#i promise i have real actual and serious thoughts and opinions about him beyond just “marry me already”

[acacia-may]

Thank you so much for the tag @lyranova! I was a little embarrassed to add my picrews to the chain (since I’m not super happy with how they turned out), so I’m making this separate post and putting everything under the cut instead. But I do appreciate the opportunity to be a little bit cheeky and completely self-indulgent (plus I'll never, ever pass up the invitation to scream about my sweet, sweet murder prince 👑💖) so thank you very much for that, Lyra! 💜

If anyone else wants to play, please see this post! 😁

(Warnings: silly self-indulgence under the cut. I would recommend not looking at this, if you don't want it to change the way you see me, friends. Please know that while, yes, admittedly, I probably am a simp for the murder prince on many some level(s), it's mostly a running joke between me, my sister, and my friends (irl), so I am at least 97% kidding around about all of this and, I promise, I actually have standards somewhere...probably...😉😂 And I definitely have actual, serious thoughts about the Murder Prince as a character beyond just "marry me already" lol)

All that said, since I have been asked, tagged, and given the opportunity, why yes, I would absolutely love to take a lovely afternoon stroll with my sweet, sweet murder prince! 👑💖 He probably would not want to go on a stroll with me, but eventually I will win him over by giving him pointers and advice on how to reconcile with his sibling. In return, he will serenade me with his beautiful music as a show of his thanks. 🥰 I considered actually dressing him as a prince, but he just wasn’t vibing with any of the clothing choices (even the one with striped sleeves). In the artbook he wore a coat that kind of looked like this so it was the best I could do, and I had to go with his natural hair colour before he added any of those fun carnival stripes. 😁

picrews link: 1 2

A/N: I think the picrew of me actually kind of looks like me. Unfortunately just going to have to use my imagination that the murder prince looks like himself. 😅

[captainaikus]

Belle!!!! It feels like forever since I’ve interacted on here 😭😭. Sorry abt that!! Honestly I’m good with either solo duds or long hcs. Maybe you can alternate between them? Either way I’m excited for the new works. Love how your angst is so phenomenal that your comfort has more notes asdjkhffggghghh 💀💀. Also. Like. It just hit me. OLIVER HAS HETERO EYES. OH MY GOD. Like I knew this before (obviously) but it’s like REALLY hit me recently and just mmmmmmhhhhmmmm yes yes yes HES SO SCUFFY LOOKINGLY HANDSOME AND ALL FOR WHAT. ahem anyways. “Should come soon if my fingers are fast enough” 💀💀. NO but like imagine saying that to Oliver as he’s a withering whiny desperate mess underneath you 👀👀. He’d love the objectification I just know it 😌. Aiku mini series you say?? 👀👀👀 I’m looking forward to it!! AKSO THESE ANON ASKS GAVE GOT ME KICKING MY FEET IN MY SHEETS AND TWIRLING MY HAIR AND TEARING UP. Like the fluff, the smut, and the angst??? UGH THEYRE ALL SO GOOD. All of it makes me want to bite something Bachiras neck. Also idea. But jealous Oliver would absolutely hate your obsessions with idols and fictional characters I’m telling you now.

“Are you telling me that if he was real, you’d pick him over me???”

“Yes. It’s like comparing a five course meal to an apple Ollie. The choice is obvious.”

*Oliver stands there in disbelief*

Asgkkkhghihhhhgffggg

I did not know that abt the ring thing that’s actually adorable. NO BUT IDEA OLIVER WOULD TOTALLY GET YOU A AMETHYST PROMISE RING WHEN HE REALIZES THAT HES SERIOUS ABT YOU AND AN EMERALD ENGAGEMENT RING FOR WHEN HE FINALLY PROPOSES!!!! ALSO thoughts. Bachira would absolutely be the kind of boyfriend that would assume you guys are dating without telling you and when someone asks “are you guys a couple” you’re standing there flustered and he’s like yes like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. AND idk why but I think Bachira would be one of the blue lock boys who marries the earliest. And it surprised everyone but also made complete sense because if Bachira knows he wants something, he goes after it and sticks with it. So when he realized that he couldn’t imagine you guys NOT growing old together, he immediately started looking for rings. Anyways. How’s are you?? How’s uni going? Tumblr bring super annoying with the tagging system atm cause I know I tagged you in a couple things and it’s not showing your responses?? And I’m mildly terrified that you’ll tag me in something and I won’t get it until later and it’ll seem like I’m ignoring you when I’m not 😭😭. Have you eaten today? Drank some water? Go do that!!! *sends aggressive virtual hugs*

- ✨ anon

This is gonna be a long ask - cause Oliver + Meguru scenarios- drabbles

Starry! It has been long but understandable cause you have exams- so on popular opinion, alternating between them... hm. good idea- i'm working on a piece rn - and yk its gonna be good when you got good music playing the bg- cause this piece is just... i don't wanna put expectations high cause i might end up disappointing you, but for me? its something that's been making me smirk the whole day.

Oh god, the comfort getting more notes 💀 i'm still confused cause- how. To begin with the pain took a lot of notes (cause istg this is a first that my works are crossing beyond 400 notes) and then the sequel is getting more notes than the prequel? the math isn't mathing rn in my head 💀💀 (even the sequel for the Tōji fic crossed 500 notes and I’m so confused) but ty for reading them and sharing your thoughts with me on this - everyone. And thanks for telling me about my work-

Yes, my husband Oliver does have heterochromatic eyes. He is scuffy looking and handsome. He is a pretty boy (¬////¬) tch. as if his pride needs to hear that.

If I said that (“Should come soon if my fingers are fast enough”) to Oliver, then it would have its own repercussions with him challenging me and then turning into a whining desperate mess on the bed - from overstimulation. (and i'm shorter than him. Imagine the amount of damage his pride would take smh) oh yeah objectification - istg the first line that came into my head as a dialogue is going into a fic (and i have used it once) so the thing with Oliver is that- this man. he gives off that whole Aura that he knows what he is doing and all right- in truth? he wants to be dominated by you. He doesn't mind being the dom but he enjoys it when you're the one who is rough on him and he likes pissing you off. (and god the brainrot i'm having rn cause of him is going into this fic that i'm writing)

The amount of searching i did to find that doc (ㅠ﹏ㅠ) it was untitled among 30 other untitled docs (ㅠ﹏ㅠ) - so i finally labeled it and i'm putting labels on other fics as well Jealous oliver is very cute. He'd go and pout on the couch, way to coax him out- is to baby him. "Is my Olive sad?" “Is my wittle Olive sad?”

Oliver : “Shut up.”

You : “I’m not going anywhere you brat. I was just kidding.”

Oliver : “You would trade me for Henry Cavill?”

You : “Nope.”

Oliver : “Cause I would trade you for Scarlet Johansson.”

You : “…”

Oliver : “Doesn’t feel so good to be traded now is it?”

You : “Is Sendou looking for a girlfriend? I might be interested since my boyfriend is being a jackass.”

Oliver : “…”

You : “Doesn’t feel so good now does it?”

Getting back to the heterochromia part- imagine doing the pupil dilation with Oliver- for "science purposes." you : "Close your eyes. Think of some random stuff." Oliver : "Why are we even doing this." You : "I wanna see if pupil dilation works. Open them." Oliver *opens eyes* : "Pft. Okay" You : "Alright... close your eyes again and think of me." Oliver : "hm...." You : "Open them" Oliver slowly opened his eyes, the center of it dilated as it struggled to adjust to the light. "You really do love me don't you-" "Don't flatter yourself Bambi, it's your rack/ ass." Yeah i like this non-existent relationship. It's a very fun one ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ cause playful banter in a relationship is like a checkbox for me- honestly. I'm not one of the lovey dovey types- even if I am it is in micro doses. Actions matter to me more than words... and Oliver is good at both- smooth jackass cause he is a charmer (,,>﹏<,,)

Oh yeah Bachira is totally the type to drop a bomb out of somewhere abt a relationship. Like imagine you both being in a situationship and he says that you are gonna meet his mom cause he arranged dinner for the three of you to meet up- and Yuu asks about you. "We're in a relationship." *spits water* "You should have introduced me sooner, Meguru. Why hide such a pretty catch from me?" "But we're here aren't we?" There is no arguing with Meguru. You're wearing his clothes? He's sleeping at your house for afternoon nap? you're cooking for two and he's doing the same? That means you're in a relationship. Simple.

Bachira is the type to take things easy and slow at his own pace. But when he realizes that he can't waste his time away- he is gonna be on the lookout for the next best thing. Poor baby starts holding his hair in despair when he realizes that the two of you are official, but there are still other people out there who are gonna look at you funny. So he does go shopping for rings... dragging Isagi with him. Bachira could be the first one to marry possibly- ꒰ᐢ⸝⸝•༝•⸝⸝ᐢ꒱⸒⸒ but i feel like karma would bite itoshi brothers in the ass first - cause they hate human touch. And rin would be the first one to marry. The shock everyone would have cause of it- ૮₍˶Ó﹏Ò ⑅₎ა (then sae, and then Oliver...) I'm doing alright- listening to Abba cause i find it very stress busting. 80s music are such stress busters and this group is my fav - along with many other 80s songs (listened to a few of kiss's songs in the library earlier- i'm very experimental with my music taste) Uni is draining me honestly- (¬_¬") my prof especially - and everyone is annoyed with this one. Not a fan of the prof, but I'm only focusing on getting a good grade and working well to learn something new everyday. Even my roommates who don't have a class with them have heard enough of their notoriety - smh but anyway, i'm keeping some positivity by day dreaming in class and making my day better with pinterest and fake scenarios - yes. i daydream abt Oliver ૮• - •ა (are we even surprised atp?) and today is just not my day- slightest bit of inconvinience and i'm ready to fly to mars (to begin with- oil fell on my pants and then it got stained with mayo cause someone wasn't looking where they were going T.T - istg)

Oml, tumblr is at it again. istg- but its okay, i get updates on my dash from time to time and i do get the number of on my notifs- and when i check you're not there but then ik its you and i head over to your blog 0^^0

I had a sandwich and a popsicle (I got a "ice cream in the morning? Really?" Yes. it makes my mood better o.o and i want it) I hope you're doing okay and not overworking yourself - ♡︎

*sending back koala hugs and Oliver spam*

[provisionalsparkle]

The Boy Next Door

Reader x Bang Chan (Stray Kids)

[Genre] exes-to-lovers au, smut, angst.

[Word count] 6.7K

[Warnings] Smut. Angst. Unprotected sex, voyeurism, ample description of bodily fluids.

[Note] This is my contribution to @feliix ’s Summer 2 Lovers collab! Check it out!

Summer.

The season of fun and sun, careless joy, long days and warm nights…

For most people.

For you, this summer is about change. It’s about the little town you used to live in, the quaint house you grew up in, the smell of your mother’s cooking or the breeze from the yard, the sound of younger kids playing in the street. It’s about the big city you will go to live in, it’s purple and orange twilight skies, black silhouettes reaching toward the skies beginning to twinkle with golden lights, the noises of the traffic coming from evening bustle, the scent of the delis and restaurants that line the streets.

You were stuck between these two places, university having been a four year long limbo of boundless sex mislabeled as self-discovery, and now visit your home one last time, reminding yourself of the life you had there before moving on to another.

You think of the past with nostalgia, yet also with a restlessness that makes you want to run from everything. The stillness, the silence, the unchanging landscape in this little town is too unbearable, too unsettling. But it’s familiar, and it’s comfortable. The life you’ll soon live promises excitement, autonomy, it’s the adulthood you’ve fantasized about. It terrifies you too, and you have these horrible dreams about missing the payment of the most insignificant bill and having the entire world collapse on you because of it. You still don’t know how to do your taxes.

College is over, a new life awaits you in a big city after landing a rather ideal job, but it felt like you were leaving things behind. Funny how, after so many years of fantasizing about this grown-up life you suddenly felt like a lost child, scared to forgo the familiar.

It’s these sort of almost-quarter-life-crisis thoughts that fill your mind on a particularly warm afternoon. You’re indecently splayed out on a couch with as little clothing as possible, the door to the backyard is wide open, letting an occasional breeze waft in to disrupt the stifling stillness of the heat. The lights are off, and you were too unbothered to turn them on as the sun set, preferring to stare at a darkening ceiling as the evening sky turned purple.

There’s a familiar jingle of keys from the front door.

“Honey? You home?”

“I’m here, Mom.” You lazily answer back. She wanders from the hall to the living room, you can feel the judgemental look she gives you.

“Have you been laying like this all day?”, indignation lines her voice. Was it so surprising to find you like this?

“Yeah…”

“You can’t just lay here all day. Go out! Get some sun! Go play with those kids you used to hang out with from school!”

“I can’t Ma, I’d rather just plank here.”

“Oh goodness, Y/n. Give me one good reason you shouldn’t go hang out with them!”

“I’ll give you two: either they grew up to be total bitches or they had kids and became a bore.”

“I didn’t become a bore when I had you!” She exclaims, although it’s not too serious and some playfulness hides beneath the surface.

“Yeah, that’s because you’re a cool mom. They don’t make those anymore.”

“Hmm… well, I think you should make a bit of an effort.”

“Mom… it’s my last vacation you know -”

“You know what?!” She suddenly exclaims, her voice brightening like a lightbulb just radiated in her thoughts. “Mrs. Carson’s son is here with her for the summer too! I bet you haven’t seen him in ages, and he’s gotten so handsome.”

“Mrs. Carson?” You didn’t have any clue who that was.

“Well… you might remember her as Mrs. Bang, but Jane changed her name when she married Norbert a few years ago. She still lives next door and Christopher’s in town spending the summer with his mother.”

Bang…

Christopher…

You hadn’t heard that name in years. It surprised you a bit actually, and a hint of a smile came to your lips.

“Yeah, yeah, Mom… I’ll think about it.”

You wouldn’t admit… something did grab your attention. A curiosity of sorts.

You were fifteen years old when you had your first kiss. He was a short boy with a kind smile, a bit awkward really, but you had a fondness for him. It wasn’t about looks at all, all boys at that age were hideous and nothing would change your opinion on that, but you’d swoon whenever you saw him. It was mutual, an icky teenage infatuation that had your friends poking fun at both of you whenever you’d become giddy at the sight of one another. Hot faces, nervous glances, trembling innocent touches.

He sat next to you in chemistry and you’d hold hands under the lab table while the teacher gave class. His left hand always felt soft in your right one. Cute. It’s a bit silly but you’re glad you had that sort of adorable and silly romance. While it lasted, that is.

Christopher wasn’t a bad guy. He was stupid, like all boys that age.

When you saw him kissing another girl, of course you cried, but you knew it had to do with him being stupid more than anything. This simple looking girl that you had been friends with in elementary school, you can’t even remember her name.

You know why he did it, beyond his stupidity. Your mom had let it slip long before - you knew it was coming.

“Honey, would you believe? Mr. and Mrs. Bang are divorcing!” Probably just some hot gossip from one of her PTA yoga groups, no ill intention on your behalf. She didn’t know you were seeing Christopher - over your dead body. You were fifteen and a horrible student, you didn’t need to give your mother yet another element to ground you with.

“Oh no…” You acted as normally as you could, your first thoughts went out to Christopher first though. “Do you know why?”

“Well… I’m obviously not going to ask, duh! But I do know that Mr. Bang is taking the kid with him abroad.” What?! What did she just say? Chis is WHAT?!

“I - uh, what?” Act normal, act normal, act normal.

“Aww… sweetie, was he your friend?” Goodness, parents can be so oblivious, but it’s beneficial in this case. She doesn’t pick up on the depression of your mood.

“I guess.” A sniffle is about to threaten your composure so, in your teenage arrogance, you leave before your mother can see your teary eyes.

The subsequent days were strange. You expected Christopher to tell you the news, you expected to comfort him, you expected to live out the rest of your young romance as best as you could. And then… you saw him.

And he said nothing. He was cold, pushed you away. He must be going through a lot of pain, you thought. More days went by and he still said nothing, and his demeanor grew worse, no affection, no smiles. He must be having a hard time, you reasoned.

Sometimes you thought he was on the verge of saying something to you, like he was about to say something and the words threatened to come out but he’d suddenly pull away and swallow them. You didn’t question it really, it was so confusing but you just went with it.

You never held his hand in chemistry again.

Time made you realize that Christopher didn’t want to be with you anymore. You weren’t sure if it was because he stopped liking you, and that hurt a little, but you knew what he was going through, and you stood by him in case he ever chose to open up and cry on your shoulder. You’d be there for him.

When he kissed that girl, it didn’t really surprise you. Damn it, what was her name? You cried, you thought it was because you were ugly and your boobs were still pretty small - stupid reasons.

It took a few months for you to understand the real reason.

He left without saying goodbye. You never spoke to him after he kissed what’s-her-name. Maybe he tried to do so a couple of times, but you ran away or didn’t let him. Or maybe you remembered it that way to comfort you, just so you’d live with the thought that he tried to apologize, tired to make things right.

But the fact of the matter is he didn’t speak to you and he didn’t say goodbye. He didn’t want to.

He didn’t want to say goodbye because it hurt.

He was trying to ruin your relationship so you’d break up with him and he wouldn’t have to say goodbye, so that he could kill the feelings you had for him to spare you from the pain of his departure.

Or maybe you were just imagining it like that to make it a cuter memory and think about it fondly.

Maybe in the end, Christopher was just a horny teenage boy that cheated on you. Maybe.

Regardless, you giggle as you think back on the silliness of it all, and how serious and life altering it all felt in your childishness. It seemed so long ago, so distant, and you were so changed that it felt like it had all happened to a different person. You wondered about the man next door, and the entirely different boy who had once been next door. What kind of person had Christopher become?

University did you well. It was four solid years of irresponsible drinking and uninhibited sexual exploration paired with relatively easy academics. You don’t know how it happened, but it had been like a transformation from one day to the next.

You, sort of, kind of, absolutely plain and normal girl that no one would notice lest you stepped in their line of sight. One day, there you were - normal.

Two weeks in - boom. Confident. Your roommate was an okayish girl, another plain one. Then you started noticing how comfortable you were undressing in front of her, to change clothes or whatever, as if it was the most normal thing in the world - which it was. Wearing shorts and skirts became less of a worry, just something that felt better. Sometimes you’d be thrown icky glances from some boys, which you hated, but others were acceptably flirty and you loved those. The best ones were the boys that would get shy and who would quickly whip their heads the other way once you caught them staring.

That definitely flipped the switch. It made you feel strong, it made you feel damn good. You, who at the most had dipped a finger into the world of heavy makeouts during high school, now became a seasoned seductress of all kinds of men. So long as you could wrap them around your finger with your demeanor, so long as you could prowl over them and take the lead.

Ah… the good old days.

What was going to happen now, though? Four years later, no slightly inexperienced men left to be wowed. Everyone you knew was turning into a bland and bitter office worker. Was this the end of it?

To think that you’d be ending this glorious chapter of your life in this tiny town, lounging on the same stuffy couch in the same hot living room every day, having your routine philosophical melodrama where you’d stare at the ceiling in the afternoons until your mother came in inquiring if you were alive. It was a terrible fate.

A few days after the revelation of Christopher’s presence, which you would never admit had been circling your mind nonstop, your mother returns with another piece of information.

“You know, Jane and Norbert are having a get together of sorts next Saturday - just the usuals from the block.”

“Is that so?” You said with disinterest.

“In fact, I borrowed a baking pan from her last week… why don’t you go over and give it back to her for me? She might need it, and you probably haven’t left this house in days.” You didn’t reply, but you could feel her eyes on you, waiting for you to obey.

“Fine…”

The afternoon was enjoyably fresh, although your white t-shirt stuck to you like a second skin, the bikini top you wore underneath tracing its silhouette into the cotton. You lazily stomped your way to the house next door, admiring the tall window where you had snuck into Christopher’s room a couple of times during your short romance. A ladder was perched up against the exterior toward that window, they must have been fixing things up. The porch was full of cans of paint, tools, boxes. It was only when you rang on the doorbell, begrudgingly holding the large tray, that you realized that Jane might not be the one to open the door but instead it could be -

The door swings open and you gasp. Christopher.

Well… his face hadn’t changed much. But he was slightly taller than you remembered, far more masculine, oh, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Yeah, he was shirtless… jeans hanging low on his hips… shirtless… abs… fit waist… arms…

“Hi! Is Jane home?” Good… pretend you don’t remember him.

“I - Uh… no, my mom’s actually out right now.” He replied. His voice had grown deeper, and where did he get that accent? Wait - did he not remember you? Now, that just made you angry, but you wouldn’t let it show.

“Oh, well… my mother wanted me to return this.” You say handing him the tray, avoiding trailing your eyes downward.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll give it to her.” He says. He seems a little frozen, an expression between surprise and caution lingers on his face, but you don’t know if it’s good or bad.

There’s a moment of silence where you just stare at each other.

“Y/n…” He finally says. There’s hesitation in the way he says your name. He’s scared, not of you, but he’s scared about the fact that you’re on his doorstep.

You don’t say anything, calmly, almost coyly, waiting for him to continue. You’d gotten rather good at pretending you were calm, and the slightest tint of a smile painted your lips so you wouldn’t seem cold or ingenuine.

“Do you remember me?” He asks. You can’t help but huff, a tiny laughter really.

“Of course. You know, you haven’t grown much taller.”

With those slightly playful words, you turn to walk back to your home, and with each step your impression of the encounter with your childhood love became more bitter and less sweet.

It was strange how you thought about him, about it. The situation, that is. Seeing him, talking to him, both of you now being older. A few days of thinking now.

You don’t know why you thought about it so much, but you thought about it. You thought about it without knowing how you felt about it or what you thought about it. This man you had only gotten a glimpse of, too overwhelmed to take in his features properly, now walks around your mind freely. He wasn’t the boy you knew. He wasn’t the boy next door whose hand you’d once hold in chemistry, who you’d kiss before turning the corner towards both of your homes. The boy who left all those years ago.

No, it wasn’t that boy. It was that man, who kept perturbing you. What did you feel? Interest? Yes, there was something quite intriguing about all of this which sparked your curiosity. Lust? Of course, absolutely, the man next door looked divine. Suppose you could abstract the person from his body, so that you wouldn’t be so bothered by who he was and what he meant to you, and you’d easily bend over in front of him and invite him in.

You supposed a conversation was in place, though, because after all, he was still the Christopher. You couldn’t just go around fucking people like that anymore - unfortunately. That was something you got away with in college. It’s a shame college boys grow up to be boring men, sex gets more boring, they think they have all the authority… Maybe you should go back to school.

You’re sitting on the windowsill of your second floor bedroom, one leg hanging out and stepping onto the roof. Opposite to your window, beyond a neat shrub, is the window of the guest room of Mrs. Carson, formerly Bang, which seems unchanged from when you last saw it. You remember watching her from your room, also unchanged, using the TV in there to do some aerobics she followed along from a VHS… was it a VHS? No, that’s the machine. What were the things you used to put in the VHS? A cassette? No… regardless, eventually she must have started using DVD’s.

Damn it, it all seemed like thousands of years ago.

Damn it, you were still so melodramatic throwing around words like poetry over some Richard Simmons tape. Aha! It’s a tape!

Your crotch is being dug into by the window frame, and you let your weight rest on it, the slight grind tempting you to have a round of masturbation. But you’ll finish the cigarette you stole from your mother first. It tasted awful, it was another adult thing you couldn’t understand. Why did everyone at university smoke so much? It was just another thing their eager teenage selves did to emulate the adults in grown-up world, to feel a little more grown-up. Who the hell likes this stuff?

But you liked watching it burn, occasionally inhaling its airy and bitter smoke. It wasn’t your preferred type of smore. You preferred watching papers and matches burn, their sweet and rich smell, the warmth of the fire that would sting the edges of your fingers. Shame your mother only used a lighter, you didn’t like the smell of that fire either.

You just surrendered to watching the bright tip of the cigarette and the white streams that came from it.

“You know those are bad for you.”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You exclaimed, your heart nearly jumping out from your chest. A man had sprung out from the window in the guest room of the Carson house, formerly Bang, and that man was Christopher Bang himself.

“Sorry I didn’t -”

“You almost gave me a fucking heart attack - what the hell?!”

“ - mean to startle you…”

“Damn it, Christopher!”

“Ah! So you do remember me?” He says with a bit of joy, but you just look at him, realizing that this is where the talk will come. His features grow a little more somber. He continues, “So… I guess I -”

“Where’d you get the accent?” You interrupt, genuinely curious. “You sound like the crocodile hunter.”

“Well… I was living in Australia with my dad.” He says it in a normal tone, but you make sure it doesn’t stay normal.

“Oh, so that’s where you went?” You both wince at what you just said. Yep, it’s finally time for that talk.

There’s a bit of silence, but you’ll let him be the one to fill it.

“I…” He sighs deeply. Uuhh… it’s quite a masculine sigh. “I didn’t know you’d be here. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again but I… there’s something I’ve always wanted to say.”

“I’m listening…” You say. It’s a flat tone, but it’s funny. You hope it’ll ease him.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry.” Some silence again, “I’m sorry for being an ass, I’m sorry for cheating on you -”

“Chris, we were like fifteen… you kissed a girl with braces, big deal.” You waved it off. Really, kissing that girl didn’t bother you so much, now almost ten years later.

“I left without saying anything.”

“Yeah, you did. Hard to not notice.”

“I was - I know it’s not an excuse, but I was going through a lot and I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“So you left without saying anything?”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok… we haven’t spoken in years. I practically forgot about it.” No you didn’t.

“Did you?” He says. Was he hopeful when you insinuated he hadn’t hurt you as much as he thought he had?

“No, not really. I mean, yeah, you kissing another girl was pretty insignificant, we were just kids. It did hurt that you left without… I don’t know… There wasn’t any closure. There wasn’t a goodbye. I felt confused for a while, I guess.”

“I’m so sorry about that. But my parents were splitting up, I was going to have to leave everything behind. You were the first girl I loved and I was going to have to say goodbye and I couldn’t handle it. I was too hurt and embarrassed to even tell my friends. I wish I had done it differently.”

“Yeah, I wish you had too. I wanted to be there for you, you know? I wanted to hug you, hold your hand, tell you it was going to be ok.

“I really messed up there…”

“It’s okay Chris, you were just a kid. We were just kids.” You offer your sympathy but he doesn’t soften.

“Mhmm. Doesn’t make me feel less guilty about it.”

“Can I ask you something?” He nods, “Did you do all that stuff… you know, treat me that way, for real or where you…?”

“I was hoping you’d break up with me, get over me. That way we wouldn’t have to say goodbye and we wouldn’t get hurt.”

“I got hurt.” You admit.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” You insist. “It’s fine. We’re fine. We’re old and grown and fine. All of that’s in the past, I can’t blame you for acting like a kid. It’s okay.”

“Well I can agree with you there. We did grow up, not kids anymore.”

“You didn’t grow that much.” You laugh, he laughs too.

“You certainly did.” He’s being flirty. It could have been bad timing, but the mood felt right.

“Oh, you noticed?”

“Hard not to.” Goodness was he being direct. “You were really cute back in school, I had a crush on you for like, forever.”

“Really…Plain old me?”

“Really. And now here we are and I think I could have a crush on you all over again.”

“So you can go off and kiss another girl with braces and leave the continent?”

“No, I’m a one woman man.” He says while making himself comfortable on his own ledge. It’s getting comfortable overall, like you’re talking to someone you’ve known for the longest time, like a decade of separation didn’t do much harm.

“Well, well. And who is that lucky woman now?”

“There’s no one at the moment. I’m in the middle of some life changes.”

“Do tell.”

“I’m moving back. Well, not here, just in the country again. A big city, big job, kinda scary.”

“Seems we’re on the same boat. I just came back to say goodbye to this place forever and I’m ooout.”

“Did you finish school already?”

“Yeah… I wish I hadn’t though.” You think back on your experience with longing, lamenting it’s end.

“Wow, can’t relate. I couldn’t wait for it to end. What’d you miss about it?”

“Well, I didn’t have to work, grades were good and easy. And I guess, it was tons of fun.”

“How so?”

“Being on a campus full of horny and stupid guys - it was open game.” Chan hisses at your admission.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for that type.” He chuckles, “You would stutter for like the first two months we went out.”

“We were just kids.”

“I guess we were…”

Another comfortable silence as you stare off at the sky, your cigarette burnt through with only the spongy bud left to pinch.

“Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m single too, you know.”

It might have been a bad idea, you said it on impulse after all, something quite instinctive having taken over you. Maybe you were just horny and Christopher was just hot, regardless, the conversation was over. Before he could even process what you said, and the implications to it, you had already slipped back into your darkened room and out of his sight.

Chan felt like a teenager again. Not in a good way.

Chan remembered your first kiss, holding your hand. He remembered your breasts being the first he had ever really noticed, your legs being the first he ever caressed. He remembers how you’d press your bodies together while you kissed, not really understanding what both of you felt, only understanding the urgency of it.

Now he can name those feelings, the ones that once belonged to an inexperienced boy, merely dipping his toes into the surface of that world. But now that he dove, and had dived into its waters several times, he knew how to swim in them.

Yet, seeing you made him feel like he didn’t. It made him feel like he couldn’t swim, like he couldn’t breathe. He felt like he was drowning.

The first moment he saw you on his doorstep he felt his stomach drop, a pang of guilt that had lingered on his mind during countless of sleepless nights hitting him with full force. He didn’t expect it. He thought he would never see you again.

And after taking another look, a longer look, it was like he was swimming in completely different waters. He felt submerged, and he didn’t know which way was up. He wanted to open his mouth and swallow it all up, let you drown him.

He hadn’t felt this raging feeling since he was a teenager. He certainly hadn’t had a specific woman make him feel like this until you.

It made him feel another kind of guilt. Shame even.

The following days he’d watch you, shamefully. His mother had him painting the house and when he stood on the rooftops he took his time to enjoy the view of you swimming in your pool, wearing tiny bikinis that stuck to your skin and showed the buds of your niples and the lines of your labia through the fabric. He would admit, shamefully, that he stopped watching from the roof because he needed to get closer to see these beautiful details.

He now watched you from over the fence in his backyard. Getting incredibly hard watching you swim, watching you oil your body down.

It was all horribly, horribly shameful.

But weren’t you the one that mentioned you were single? It had caught him off guard. He was being cheeky in that moment, but he didn’t know what waters he was testing then. Now he knew, and it was making him behave so, so shamefully.

Should he go over there, push you into a corner of the pool and pull your bottoms to the side? Should he kneel at your feet while your rubbing yourself with that golden oil, and beg you to let him fuck you?

It wasn’t just the thought of sex that drove him mad, it was you in general. How inferior he felt in front of you, like he had to prove himself. Every day he worked shirtless, hoping you’d get a glimpse of him, but you were just so unbothered by it all.

It was driving him fucking insane.

If only you knew.

Except - of course you did. Of course you did. This is what you craved, what you were best at. Driving boys, technically men but boys sounds tastier, to be absolute slaves to their desire for you. Christopher wasn’t doing a good job at hiding it. Did he really think that you would suddenly spend every day swimming in the tiniest bikinis after having not left your couch for over a week? They really are such stupid, fuckable animals.

And Chris was particularly fuckable.

Day four of his perverted project, he was hammering away at some boards in the back porch of his house. Your mother wouldn’t be home for hours, his parents were away for a couple of days.

Everything was perfect.

“Chris?!” You call loudly over the fence from your chaise lounge, carelessly flipping through a book. The hammering stopped, he had heard you. “Chris, it’s hot today. Don’t you think you should come over for a swim to cool down?”

Why on earth were you acting so damn unbothered and confident, he thought. Why on earth were you asking him over?

It’s only a matter of time before he circles his own house and slides in through the gate on your end. He’s still wearing jeans and a utility belt, gloves too. No shirt.

“You can’t really swim in those, take them off.” You hardly peered at him from over your sunglasses. He was just standing there, frozen. That’s usually a sign that you’re working your magic well. Good. “Come on Christopher, take them off.”

“I - uh, I’m actually not wearing trunks right now. Uhm… I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, you don’t have to go.” Insert unbothered page flip. “Why don’t you just undress and get in the pool so I can join you?”

“W-what?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He genuinely thought he had imagined it, maybe all of his hornyness was driving him insane.

“Christopher!” You whine. “You’re ruining the fun!” You slam the book shut and throw it over to the side, taking your sunglasses and hat off. “Chris, I think it’s obvious. Do you think I haven’t noticed you being a peeping tom for the past half week? Look! You’ve already got a tent in your pants and everything!”

“Fuck.” Shit, you were right.

“This is like, hmm, like an open invitation to fuck me.” You say with an eye roll, but your eyes roll toward his abs because they are absolutely distracting you.

“Are… are you serious?”

“Well… You want to, I want to. You’re nice, look like you’ve become quite a decent man - and I’m not just referring to your physique Chris. Maybe, just maybe, it would be an excellent idea if we finally fucked this tension away.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. You’re here for a few weeks, so am I. Why not enjoy each other while we can? After that we can just go our separate ways, just like before except we’ll end it on good terms.”

Too many points for him to argue with - you were right on all of them. He couldn’t disagree. In fact, he eagerly agreed. Little did he know you had this pitch rehearsed to perfection, to your benefit, because he seemed to be completely subdued by it.

“Fuck.” He mutters under his breath. Fumbling with his belt, zipper, exposing the line of his abdomen down to his hardening cock. A fat, heavy cock that swung between his muscular thighs. He was fully nude now, standing in front of you, his tan skin glistening in the sunlight. You’re quick to urge him over with a finger.

He pounces, but once he’s crawling over you on that narrow chair, he becomes slow.

“Hi.” You manage to whimper out, now feeling a bit small beneath him, feeling nervous even.

“Hey.” He’s just as nervous but there’s an energy that goes beyond either of your wills pulling you toward one another.

He kisses you. It’s a kiss you melt into, and he sinks his body against yours, with you spreading your legs so he can slot between them. His cock rests against your lower abdomen, his body pressing further into you.

You can’t help but slide your hand between your two bodies in an attempt to finger yourself, prepare yourself, but he stops you and pulls back.

“No.” He growls.

“No?” Is he going to leave you like this?!

“Let me.”

And you do. Chan lowers himself, adjusting you so he can easily bend over the chair while kneeling on the ground, and his hands shake as he dips the tip of his fingers into the hem of your bottoms, just slightly tugging at the material, playing with it before he starts to play with you. You’ve got the perfect view of him basically drooling over you.

He slides the bottoms to the side, but you pull at the strings at your hips, so they come undone and he pulls them away completely. Your lips and the juices coming from between them are just as glossy than your oiled skin.

He can’t help but dig in. Fucking you with his mouth, jamming his fingers in you. It’s an animalistic frenzy and it’s hot and slippery and sticky. You cum and your fluids spill over the impermeable cushion below, pooling under your ass. He can see every sparkling droplet fall from you.

It’s just a haze, he nearly jumps on you, bending your legs nearly over your head, bouncing his pelvis on your cunt like a trampoline, smacking with every thrust. You’re completely glued to one another. If he’s not abusing your mouth with his tongue then he’s biting on your shoulder or grunting, growling, into your ear. It’s filthy. You’re absolutely sure you’ve never been fucked like this.

He cums, several times, as do you. He pulls out each time, jerks himself off on your body, although a couple of times you urged him into your mouth and face. He pulls the triangles on your top to the sides, so your breasts are exposed. He made sure to cum on those too. Semen, sweat, squirt, oil, spit, everywhere there are droplets of your fluids shining on your body like jewels.

It ends with him lying on top of you, nearly sleeping from exhaustion, and your lips feel deliciously sore and sensitive, almost ticklish as he softens inside of you.

It happens again. Several times in fact. Many, many times. When his parents are away, when your mom is away, you fuck all the time. Just a little call of his name over the fence or from your window and he’d be running to you. You were too comfortable with one another to bother with formalities, it was like you’d never been separated. You’d wait for him on all fours, wet cunt on display for him to dive in, but he’d always greet you with a gentle kiss.

Fucking each others faces, drinking eachothers fluids. You even let him fuck you in the ass, multiple times, and he was the first guy to make you cum that way. You were just as hooked and as desperate as he was.

Things started to change though.

The welcoming kisses became longer, you’d talk between the rounds…

You’d fall asleep in his arms, or he in yours.

You’d fuck slowly, deeply, staring into each other’s eyes.

You’d talk to him, tell each other stories of all these years, asi if you had been together the entire time.

You’d smile as you made love, gently. You’d let him cum inside of you.

He’d hold your hand again. They were as soft and warm as you remembered.

You were holding his hand on one particular pink evening, your head resting on his heaving chest, teaching circles into his pecs and nipples. On your bed, in your quiet childhood room. It was a painful silence now. It had been weeks, weeks closer to your respective departure dates.

“I wish I had never left.” He eventually says. You don’t know what to say. “I wish we could have stayed like this for longer.”

“Maybe we would have broken up eventually, or left for college.” You ponder.

“Maybe I would have taken you to prom, or we would have had sex together for the first time…” He returns.

“On this bed? Hmm? With my cute school uniform?” You tease. “Yeah, maybe.”

“But I guess this is what was meant to be.” He sighs, as do you.

“I’m sorry.” Is all you can say.

“What for?”

“I don’t know, I just feel bad. I started this and now we have to go our separate ways again.” You feel something sting in your eye. You can’t cry now.

“Shh…” He coos as he hears you sniffle and feels you twitch. It makes his heart ache like it did all those years ago when he left.

“I - I…” You cry. “I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to go.”

He pulls you into his arms, crushing you in an embrace. Your eyes are closed but you feel the tears fall from his face, he’s crying too.

“I know… but what else can we do?”

There was nothing left to do, other than fuck the days away, crying, holding each other until it hurt. It was a horrible, horrible thing to have fallen in love with Christopher Bang this final summer.

You didn’t go with him to the airport. You didn’t want to say goodbye, you didn’t want to see where he was going.

But he did slip into your room that final night. You made love quietly, he kissed you as you cried.

He said it was the second time he loved you, and the second time he had to leave you.

It hurt much more this time around. Maybe you shouldn’t have done it, maybe you shouldn’t have gone next door.

Being in your house was unbearable once Chris wasn’t next door.

A week later, you’ve arrived at your new place. It had been a whirlwind and you stayed at a hotel the first couple of nights while your new furniture got brought in, most of your personal belongings only fitting in a couple of bags.

It’s kept you busy. That way you think about him a little less. Crying into pillows that have that certain ‘brand new’ smell isn’t quite as comforting as you’d expect. Everything seems unfamiliar, strange, artificial. Nothing here reminded you of him - it was for the best and you hated it.

The place is nice, bright. It’s on the third floor of a small apartment building, a couple of other doors beside yours in the hall. You go downstairs to grab a few packages that have arrived, carefully treading up the stairs in a kind of balancing act once they’re piled in your arms. It’s a choreography you can dance to with expertise, always denying any help from your neighbors.

However, you do fumble with the lock and handle once you’re at your door, holding the boxes up by pressing them against the door with your body as your hands blindly fumble with the keys, nothing but cardboard in your sight.

Nothing you can’t handle, until they start to slip.

“Woah, let me help you with that!” someone says behind you, and in your complicated state it’s a bit difficult to process what happens but the boxes are soon out of the way, said someone pulling them from you and freeing you.

And then you see him.

Him.

Your him.

He says your name and you’re too stunned to react. He’s in awe too. He drops your packages, and you’re certain some of them contain some makeup palettes but you don’t give a damn at the moment.

“What are you doing here?” You finally ask, frozen in place.

“I… live in 304.” He says.

“You live in 304?” He nods. “You? You’re serious?” He nods again, eyes still wide.

You both stand there, processing it all. This can’t be real.

“I live in 302.” you manage to say, after some time. Your voice is weak, all the air has left your lungs. You shake.

“You do?” He asks. Now you nod.

This can’t be.

But he cups your face, holds it like you’re precious and delicate, he kisses you. It is real. You kiss him back, harder. Eventually you’re both clinging to one another, gripping each other’s clothes desperately.

“You live here.” He says, little tears sparkling in the corner of his eyes. You nod, the same tears coming to you.

“I do. Mm-hmm.” The sniffles you let out seem so sweet to him, he swoons with how happy you are to see him. Knowing you feel the same joy he does - it makes him feel complete.

“I live here too!” He cries, laughing, smiling, beautifully.

One more kiss, just to make sure it’s real. You pull him in and kiss him one more time.

It’s real.

[illfoandillfie]

Kinktober Day 4: Bimbofication + Cockwarming

Kinktober Masterlist | Regular Masterlist

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

Words: 3,164

Warnings: Bimbofication/intelligence play, hypnosis/trance state, cockwarming

A/N: This fic is very much set in my Future Management universe though I think you could get away with not having read the others. I’ve missed writing these two tbh and then I saw that one of the prompts for day 4 was bimbofication and decided it was a good enough excuse to get back to them. But I also really loved the second prompt for day 4, cockwarming, so decided to mix the two together!

After the long week you’d both been dealing with, you and Roger were glad to have a weekend to yourselves to relax. You’d spent too many nights out at various political functions, lobbying politicians and trying to convince the wealthy elite to donate to your cause. It was frustrating though and despite the numerous late nights and all your best efforts, it didn’t feel like you’d got particularly far. Roger had returned to the studio that week to begin recording Queen’s next album, so he was having a better time than you had been, though by all accounts everyone had been a little on edge as the week drew to a close. He’d come home complaining about how snippy everyone had been and how little progress they’d made that day. It was nice just to curl up on the couch together and zone out in front of the telly, not least because recently you’d barely found time to just be together without interruptions. It wasn’t a problem exactly, and you’d known you’d have patches like that when you first started seeing each other, but the lack of intimacy and physical affection created by your busy schedules did take its toll. So, on Friday night, Roger took great joy in turning off the alarm clock, deciding you could both use a lie in. You were too exhausted to even suggest anything more than talking before you went to sleep, but Roger made sure he was spooning you as you settled down, holding you tight.  

Roger was still asleep as you woke, carefully detangling yourself so you could tiptoe to the bathroom, but he offered you a sleepy grin when you came back.   “Sorry, did I wake you?” “Maybe a little. Thought we were going to lie in.” He pouted at you as if you’d betrayed him.   “I had to pee!” you laughed, “But I’m all for lying in now.”   Roger chuckled along with you as he beckoned you over, encouraging you to lay your head on his chest as you snuggled back up. His hand found yours, softly tracing the length of your fingers as he sighed happily.   “I missed this,” he half whispered, pulling your hand up so he could kiss your knuckles.   You hummed in agreement. For someone who’d not been in the habit of sharing your bed or encouraging physical contact, you’d certainly gotten used to Roger’s touch. He’d thoroughly converted you as the relationship became more serious, made you see how nice it was to be held, how comforting his hand in yours could be. And you had missed it over the last week when there’d not seemed to be enough time for those soft, quiet moments with him. You’d sat next to uninterested politicians who nodded politely at what you said but never offered anything useful, and thought about how nice it’d be to feel Roger kiss your temple or squeeze your thigh. And then your mind had taken it further, reminding you how warm you got when his weight was over you, how it felt to fill your lungs with his breath and to taste him on your lips. You shifted at the idea and realised you weren’t the only one who wanted more than just to relax. Scooting away from Roger so you could better face him, you began to suggest you could maybe slip down under the covers and help him get properly excited, but before you got more than a few syllables out he was talking about a different idea.  “So, I’ve been thinking about something I thought might be fun to try with my bimbo doll.”  “Oh?” You weren’t entirely sure how you felt about that. On one hand you loved when Roger turned you brainless and cock-crazed, how fun it was and how freeing. But this was the first time you’d really been able to be together in a little while. What did it say about the state of your relationship or his opinion of you, if he’d prefer your bimbo alter ego over the real you, “You want her?”  “Not necessarily right now,” he said, rubbing his knuckles softly against your cheek, “Not if you don’t want to. I’m happy staying like this with you all day.”  “Don’t pretend you don’t want to fuck. I want to fuck.”  Roger laughed, “Oh I definitely want to fuck. I’m just saying I’d be perfectly happy fucking beautiful, brainy, you, instead of the slutty idiot.”  You couldn’t help but smile at that.  “But it’s something I’ve thought about quite a lot. And I think it’d be kind of perfect for such a lazy morning.”  “Okay.” you said, thinking about it more, “I’m not entirely opposed to the whole bimbo thing. It might actually be nice to be a bit brainless, maybe even make it a bit easier to relax. Y’know, sort of keep me focused on enjoying the moment and really feeling everything. So why don’t you just tell me what the idea is and then I’ll know how up for it I am right now.”  “Hmmm. I thought maybe it could be a surprise. But don’t worry, it’s something we’ve done before. I’m just curious how she’d react to being made to do it.”  “Being made to?” you asked, raising your eyebrows in disbelief, “Is this something I like?”  “Oh yeah, definitely. Believe me, we’ve done this a few times before. Usually, it’s less part of sex and more to do with the aftercare or the foreplay.”  You tried to think of what he meant but nothing came to mind that fit the description. It was intriguing though. And you trusted Roger, you knew he wouldn’t take advantage or force you to do something you wouldn't normally do. If he said you enjoyed it then you must enjoy it usually.  Roger waited to see how you’d react.  “Nothing to lose?”  “Nothing to lose.” He said with a smile, “I promise it’ll be fun, love.”  “Okay, let’s do it. I’m insanely curious. But also, sometime later today or tonight, we’re going to have regular, non-bimbo, sex.”  “Anything you want. You ready?” 

You nodded and instantly felt Roger draw you back down so you were within easier reach. His fingers trailed lightly over your arms as he began to talk you down. You relaxed into the moment, letting his voice wash over you as his touch created goosebumps over your skin. As you closed your eyes your breathing began to soften and you felt the familiar drowsiness settle into your mind. Roger did his usual improvisation, making sure you knew how dumb you were, how easily confused and hopelessly idiodic you were. He made you understand that you couldn’t understand half of what he said, that you were just a giggly dummy who needed his help. And then, when he was sure you had gone brainless, he told you how horny you were. How all you could think about was his cock in every one of your holes, how desperately you ached for him, how being filled by him was your one goal in life. The only thing you needed or wanted. And how the longer you waited the hornier you got. He told you about being desperate and wet and you felt yourself grow desperate and wet as he said it though you couldn’t remember the word desperate. You tried you but just came up blank. The only world you could think of was cock. It flashed in your mind like a neon sign and just the thought of that word alone made your mouth water and you cunt ache.  You shifted, trying to rub your legs together, able to feel the slick forming between them as your stomach tightened with need. And then he told you one word, a simple word. No. He explained that every time he told you no, it was guaranteed to compound the horny desperation you felt.   “What’s co-com- ummm, com-pound?” You asked, confusedly.   “It means the feeling will get stronger. When I say no, you’ll get even hornier. Understand?”  “Yes,” you sighed, content now that he’d explained the hard word.  

By the time you blinked your eyes open, all you knew was that you wanted his cock. It was your very first thought and the first thing you said.   Roger looked at you, smiling, and greeted you. A pleasant, “Hi,” that made you feel warm and happy.  You’d smiled back, “Can I please have your cock Sir?”  That made Roger laugh, “No baby. That’s now what I want to do right now.”  Hearing him say that just made you want it more though.  “Please Sir? I could suck it for you. I really really really want to suck your cock.”  “No, I don’t think I want that either.”  You whined softly, “I promise I’m reallllllly good at it and I love sucking cock so much.”  “No. What else could you do instead?”  “Ummm,” it was hard to think, hard to remember anything beyond how horny you were, “Maybe I could ride you?”  “Hmmm, no.”  You groaned and clenched your hands into fists for a second as a bolt of energy ran through you, “Can I wank you?”  “No, baby, not that either.”  “Please Sir?”  “No.”  The bolt of energy ran through you again and you stomped your foot against the mattress to relieve some of the pressure.   “Keep suggesting things,” Roger grinned, “Maybe one of them might interest me.”  You scrunched your face up in concentration, trying to think of something Roger might like, “What about if you fucked me? I’d be so good and I’d stay so still and you could use my pussy and cum in me and-”  “No. No I don’t want that either.”  “But Siiiiiiir,” you whined, “You always tell me to take your cock!”  “Do I?”  “Yes!” you giggled, wondering how he could have forgotten, “You always say how good it feels in me.”  “I s’pose that’s true.”  “So can I have your cock now?”  “No.”  You whined and pouted but Roger didn’t budge.  “I’ll tell you what. Let’s start with taking your clothes off.”  “Okay Sir.” you nodded, giggling again at the idea, hoping it would lead to having one of your holes filled.  “Well go on then. Shirt off first, good girl.”  You rolled yourself off the bed and quickly began tearing off the pyjamas you were wearing, feeling hot as Roger’s gaze dragged over the newly exposed skin.   “Now undress me.”  You couldn't help but laugh as you crawled across the bed to reach him. He’d slept without a shirt so all you had to worry about were his flannel PJ pants and underwear pulling them down his legs one at a time. As his underwear came down your eyes fell to his cock, revealed inch by inch. You felt saliva pool in your mouth and had to resist the urge to lean forward and taste him.  “Can I touch you Sir?” you asked quietly, almost holding your breath as you waited for his answer.  “No.”  “Please?” you asked again, frustrated. Roger didn’t understand how bad you wanted it, how much you needed him. “I’ll do anything Sir, whatever you want.”  “No.”  With an impatient groan you threw yourself onto your stomach, beating your fists and feet against the mattress. It was the only way to relieve the energy and pressure building inside you.  But Roger just laughed, “Awww, is Dummy gonna have a tantrum? That’s not going to change my mind. My answer is still no.”  You whined and kicked your legs again, your pussy throbbing with how empty it was.  “You’re such a desperate slut, aren’t you Dummy.” Roger laughed again, “So maybe....”  You looked up excited and hopeful.  “I might decide to fuck you. Pin you down, fill you hard and deep and cum in you as many times as I can manage. Just to shut your whining up.”  You scrambled back to your knees and nodded happily, reaching to wrap your hand around Roger’s cock.  He slapped you away, “I said might, Dummy. That’s still a no. You’ll have to show me you deserve it. You’ll have to be a good bimbo doll and do everything I say. Can you do that?”  You whined but agreed you could. He didn’t need to make you promise to follow his orders. You’d have done that anyway. You’d have done anything he asked, anything to make him feel happy and pleased. 

“Sit up, hands behind your back. Show me your cunt.”  You scrambled to do as he asked, smiling proudly when he hummed at the sight of your spread legs and wrapped his fist around the base of his cock.  “You’re so wet Dummy. How’d that happen?”  You giggled again, “I told you I want you Sir.”  “Guess I didn’t realise how much,”  Your gaze fell to his hand and your breath caught as you watched him slowly stroke his length, stiffening more the longer your eyes were fixed on him. It just made everything worse. You couldn’t seem to drag your eyes away, nearly panting with desire. Wanting to touch yourself almost as much as you wanted to touch him.  “Oh you are desperate. I can see your cunt clenching around thin air and you’ve got drool on your chin. You don’t even care which hole I use.”  You shook your head. Whatever he wanted would make you happy because it’d make him happy.  “I could keep telling you no.”  A whimper slipped from your lips and you felt your pussy pulse with need.  “But maybe I’ll be generous. Lie down here, next to me. Good girl, now turn onto your side. No, other side, facing away from me. That’s right.”  “What are you doing Sir?” you asked over the creaking of the bed frame as Roger shifted around behind you. He didn’t answer though, just pressed himself against your back. You could feel his hard length being directed to your slit and you changed the position of your legs to make it easier for him.   “Good girl,” he said softly, his breath warm against your bare skin.  You moaned at the feeling of him moving between your legs, waiting for the sweet stretch of him filling you. Only it didn’t come. You could feel him between your lips, sliding easily through your soaked folds, every ridge and vein making you shudder. You tried to press back, to direct him into you, but his hand landed on your hip, forcing you to still.  “No.”  The word pulled another whine from you, louder than any before, exacerbated by how close he was to what you really wanted. But that just made Roger chuckle as he kept teasing you. It was pure torment, though worse was still to come.  

It took you completely by surprise when Roger stopped his teasing rubbing, readjusting his angle so he could sink into you slowly. The unexpectedness of it stole your breath but you managed to gasp out a small moan of thanks, finally getting what you’d been so desperate for. The position you lay in kept your bodies close as he sheathed himself fully, rocking his hips gently so as to withdraw a little and thrust back into you. You could have cried with joy at knowing you’d pleased your Sir, that you’d been so good and patient, and he’d finally decided to take what you’d offered him. And then he stopped. You tried to take over his rhythm, tried to fuck yourself on his cock the way you knew he liked. Last time you’d done that he’d praised you for being brainless and needy, called you a good bimbo whore and you’d kept going until he’d cum, laughing about how good it felt. But this time he stopped you. He pressed his hips flush against you and wrapped his arm tightly over the top of you.   “No, Dummy. No moving now.”  “But Sir,”  “No. Be good and lie still or I will make you,” He tapped the middle of your forehead with a finger, “Remember I have all the power.”  You didn’t know what he meant by that or why he’d tapped you but you knew how to be good. You knew how to please. And so you relaxed again and lay quiet and still, the way he wanted you.  “It’s still a little early for me to use you. I think I want to sleep a bit longer, so why don’t you stay here and warm my cock for me. It’ll keep me comfortable so I can sleep longer. And then when I’m better rested I’ll think about fucking you.”  You whined again, wanting to thrash your arms and legs again but unable to, wanting to be pinned down by your Sir and used, wanting to feel him move within you or to taste his cum or anything. But if that was what he wanted that was what you’d do, so you nodded and agreed softly.   Roger hummed happily which was all you needed to hear to feel happy too. He let out a tired exhale and seemed to still. You listened as his breath evened out into a shallow rhythm, and struggled to keep relaxed in his embrace. As far as you could tell he was asleep, though his hand seemed to come to life. His fingertips trailed over your skin, coming to rest on your chest. You tried to remain quiet but struggled not to moan as his hand cupped your breast and squeezed it. In response he moved slightly, though still slept on, his cock changing angle within you by a hair's breadth. In your state of heightened arousal it was enough to have you clenching again, trying not to wake Roger in case he got mad.  

There was a soft laugh from behind you and Roger mumbled, “C’mon Dummy, you should sleep too.” And then he kept talking, telling you how you’d still be horny when you woke but you’d have control of your brain again, you’d be back to his beautiful, intelligent partner. It sounded like nonsense (what did intelligent even mean?) but something about the way he spoke made your eyes droop and close. There was a small tap on your forehead and you awoke, disorientated by being brought back to the real world so soon.  “How do you feel, love?”  Roger asked and you twisted in his arms to try and see him better. You were pleased when you heard him groan at the change in your position.   “You’re a fucking tease Roger Taylor.” you half laughed, trying to sound less amused than you were.  He laughed too, clearly pleased with his little game, as he released you and withdrew his cock from your heat, “I told you you’d like it.”  You pushed yourself up to be more comfortable, “I don’t know that like is the word I’d use. All I feel is horny. Insanely so.”  “Do you want that fuck now?”  He was still laughing when you tackled him. 

Taglist: @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave @scorpiogemini

[betweentheracks]

Hello and yay for this blog!!! I have a question :D. If a certain Chinese star were to wear jeans that say "my cock is gluten free" and "pull me down and fuck me," do you think his stylist would have chosen this knowingly, or do you think it's possible they just were like "hmm english words looks good" and didn't bother to look up the meaning? If they did know the meaning, would they have likely informed the star? Very desperate for the thought process behind this Choice hehehe. Thank you!

Ah, I was wondering hoping if I would get asked about those infamous jeans and here you are!

First and foremost; the following is all speculation from my experiences in the business and is wholly subjective. 

It isn’t impossible that they weren’t aware of what was written on the jeans, but it also isn’t all that likely either. When you pull up these jeans on the Dsquared2 site there’s a listing of what is doodled and written on the jeans and it’s not something that would be overlooked by neither stylist nor client. 

That said, Yibo does know some English and while he may not have known these words exactly, there’s more than enough ways of discerning their meaning. I would also bet half a year of my salary that his stylist would have known what was written here, or any number of personnel that works with them for that matter. I would also take into consideration that even if the jeans had slipped by all these people that may or may not have had the ability to see what was all over them, some of Yibo’s fellow idols should have (looking at you specifically, Seungyoun).

Setting this aside for a moment, I’ll go into who I think is responsible for the jeans being worn to begin with - Wang Yibo himself is the likely culprit. 

Why do I think this? There’s many reasons but most are inconsequential while two points frame the scene as I see it. 

This is markedly not a choice a stylist would make. Stylists, at the end of it all, are employees and therefore it shouldn’t be too surprising to know we have rules in place we must abide no matter if we are working outside the purview of the company we are housed under. Even when we work exclusively with a client, we are still taking the name of our company as well as our own with us and are operating as an extension of the brand the company promotes and promises. I don’t know of any company here (and I live in rather free faring place which welcomes eccentricities, mind) that would allow these jeans to be submitted as part of a pitch to either buy or borrow unless they were very specifically in line with a client’s public image and style. Technically these jeans would classify as offensive and profane which means they would invite trouble and cause a stir. While stylists are not associated much with the PR side of things we are still essentially a team playing for the same client - this selection, if gone badly, would be like asking for lightning to strike twice in one place at the same time. If a scandal amounted from them PR would have to handle it and that means the stylist would come under fire for making such a bold and risky choice, most especially with a younger client that thus far didn’t have the sort of image one would think to associate with jeans such as these. 

The second reason is that, from what I can tell, this is in line with Yibo’s personality. He’s very serious about style and engages with it as he does most things; by overtaking it completely and rebranding it to suit him to the point that it makes one wonder if the style wasn’t designed with him in mind. He makes full use of what fashion is all about at it’s core; expression. These jeans in particular would have suited the Yibo of the time he wore them (2018, if I remember right?) as he was trying to break away from the image he held as a pretty boy with demure and soft looks which held the shock value of being in such contrast with his dancing and rapping. He’s mentioned before that he doesn’t really like being “cute/sy” and having to do things in the way of that since it’s not true to who he feels he is. Which, honestly, a lot of idols and stars go through this experience where they no longer wish to be constrained by the persona they play for the public and one of the most impactful means of going about it is to address the styling since it is the focal point of public image. 

The Dsquared2 jeans don’t only say “my cock is gluten free,” there’s actually quite a lot to them and I think it would help if more were aware of it so here’s the description of them on the website: 

D Squared Limited Edition Jeans. Sexy Twist Printed Low Rise. Fun, Evil Boy, Love Sucks, Pull Me Down, Open Me, Unzip, Buttons, Wine Is My Water, Tic Tac Toe, Dean & Dan, Sex, Gluten Free Cock, Hot Patches

The jeans actually say “pull me down and fuck me” right there on the ass, but naturally they can’t list the expletives in the marketing. Not strictly important to this post, but still worth mentioning given the hushed treatment of what the placement of such words could easily imply and the effect that could have had. 

Anyway, the bit that is very telling in my opinion is that “evil boy” tag. I’m not terribly certain due to having never been fortunate enough to work with these jeans myself and the internet only has so many pictures from so many angles, but “evil boy” is either written somewhere (which I think is the case since there’s devil horns present as well) or they’re being promoted as such for aesthetic value. Regardless, I am fairly certain this would be the feature which caught Yibo’s eye. It’s on brand for someone seeking to shatter the conceptual ideal of being naive, innocent, youthful, or soft.

The jeans as a whole fit with Yibo’s sense of humor, as I’ve seen it at least. He lost his mind and fell into full laughter and hysterics over a dick joke, not even minding that he was being filmed or anything. He was still laughing about it even after the other hosts had moved beyond it, making them circle back around to it and in turn making it all the more hilarious for him to enjoy. You can see it clearly in the bts footage from the CQL set that he enjoys being mischievous and stirring things up and having a good time. 

This is who he is, I believe, and it makes a lot of sense for him to have made this stylistic choice and then either convince his stylist to let him run with it or change out at the last second. Both of these are possible, though one of them is less probable than the other given how tricky it actually would be to sneak a wardrobe alteration past the many people that make up the staffing roster for any events, and then to be able to change in the limited time frame available between exiting the dressing room to being in the public sphere would be one in a thousand. Much simpler to goad your stylist into being lenient enough to give you free reign over your own styling - we can only hold out and say no when the grounds for it are met, which this wouldn’t have done in all likelihood - and most of the time we build up a good enough relationship and rapport with clients that we end up doting on them a bit and heed their requests when we can.

That’s all from me on this token moment in Yibo’s very stacked fashion history. Thanks for asking!

Furthermore, there’s the third possibility that this wasn’t a styling choice whatsoever. Or at least not one that involved the stylist in any real regard. It is very plausible that this was just Yibo in his own clothes, having dressed down after the main events wound down. I’ve never actually watched to see what that night looked like overall, but from the videos I have seen it looked to me like the actual do had passed and they were all just goofing around and having their own dance competitions and such when he was wearing them. I can’t say for sure that he did or did not have them on for the whole thing or if they were his own self packed casual wear. In which case it would fall back to his studio to tend to since stylists generally don’t hold authority over personal clothing choices and only ever have a hand in it when it is expressly stated in contracts or temporary clauses, and it just isn’t too common anymore. 

Worth a quick mention for means of distinction, here in the US this choice wouldn't have raised many eyebrows no matter if it was chosen by an artist or a stylist. The only reason I feel it necessary to say this is simply because this is not so in China and that alone lends context to the controversy of these jeans. In the scope of conservatism these jeans are outrageous and I think that a stylist would steer clear of utilizing them at all if they value their job. This is why I don't consider it likely at all that Yibo and his stylist collaborated to make use of these jeans as a way to shake away the remnants of his pretty boy aesthetic.

[noweakergirl]

tlat thoughts

Today I finished reading “The life and times” (of Lily and James) and oh my, oh my, OH MY. Imagine writing a fanfic with such an impact on the fandom, Jules is a genius. As a massive Jily shipper I don’t even want to start on how much I loved it, because I did. I started reading it because of Jily and ended up caring for the whole story. Last two chapters were hard to read and gotta say, I cried.

Now, I would love nothing more than to get to know more of this wonderful, brilliant universe that Jules created. I would love to see how did Jily get from friends to lovers, who confessed, who kissed first, who cried, who fangirled and threw an actual party at Gryffindor Common Room just because their mate got the girl of his dreams (Sirius Black) but in a bittersweet way, chapter 36 was a nice ending. And yes, I guess this is unpopular opinion (BELIEVE ME, I would LOVE to get more), but hear me out for a second. As a writer myself, I know when the story finishes and even more, when the writer themself wants to finish it. You could tell from the way Jules started the chapter that she’s gonna give us a hint of “yes, they will get together (not like we already knew that but us, Jily shippers, crave to read about an actual thing y’know), they will kiss, they will admit they love each other for they are Lily and James, and she was dramatic, he was dynamic, and matters of heart require time but their time has finally come” and “yes, all of this bickering and teasing and tears and battles and hugs and touches will mean something and their love will happen” - but. The memorial, the hints of future lovers (not just Jily but Marlene x Adam as well), Marauders, Lily and Marlene sitting on the grass together thinking of the future... it was perfect in a way. Because we all know what’s going on from here and we know it’s nothing good. They will come back to Hogwarts, there will be lots of love but losses too. The war has started and it only goes downhill from now.

“TLAT” is a wonderful odde of youth gone lost. From the very beginning of it, we could see Marauders doing mischevious things, James still being James (mostly), Lily still not being sure if she’s okay with him. Fights happened, relationships started and broke, and it was all just very youthful and innocent. But then as we go on, it gets a bit darker and darker, until the last chapter in which we clearly see that our favorite characters have changed. They have grown up in a span of just a few months and while they are still technically young nothing will ever be the same again. And THAT’s exactly what I loved about chapter 36, the lingering feeling of *something* coming, something more mature, more serious, more dark. Them sitting on a grass together gives a sense of unity, of “we are afraid, but we have to stick together in this or else we lose”.

Chapter 36 finished in the way it started, closing a circle with a promise of James and Lily. It warmed my heart and god, how I wished for more. If one day Jules ever comes back to gives us a chapter or two, I’d be the first to run and read it. But for now, I’m gonna be thankful I had a chance of seeing my favorite ship in literature get real before my eyes. I don’t believe anyone would do a better job in giving life to James and Lily and for that I’m beyond grateful. Thank you, Jules for creating something as beautiful and impactful as TLAT.

[ibijau]

Futures Past pt14 / On AO3

three conversations as Nie Huaisang's time in Gusu comes to an end

Summer had finally come to an end, implacable heat replaced by a more pleasant warmth as the world took on new hues. It also meant that the final few exams of the year were fast approaching, though Nie Huaisang felt unconcerned. He’d been ordered to fail after all, not that he thought he could have succeeded even if he’d tried.

Comforted by that permission to not study, he was currently laying in the grass in the back hills of the Cloud Recesses, enjoying the afternoon sun. A history book, chosen for the promise of the many scandals it revealed about a past emperor’s reign, laid forgotten on his chest, Nie Huaisang having realised that the contents were far more serious than he felt like dealing with at the moment. At some other time he might have taken a nap, encouraged by the warmth, but he’d found it difficult to sleep since that visit of his future self a few days earlier.

Just as Nie Huaisang was about to pick up his book again, Su She finished his series of sword forms and came to lay on the grass as well. He was sweaty and looked tired, but appeared quite happy with himself. Su She had confessed that he’d made a real leap forward with his cultivation since teachers and other disciples stopped constantly putting him down, something for which Nie Huaisang felt as proud as if it had been his own progress.

They stayed silent for a while, just basking in the sun, enjoying that beautiful day, until Nie Huaisang found that his recent worries were too heavy on his chest and he had to share them.

“Su-xiong?”

Su She made a noise to signify he’d heard, but couldn’t be bothered to speak. He looked comfortable, and had closed his eyes as if he might succeed with the nap that eluded Nie Huaisang. It was almost a shame to ruin that.

“Do you think people can be so evil that nothing will redeem them?”

The silence changed around them. After a moment Su She sat up to get a look at Nie Huaisang. Finding him looking serious, Su She’s initial puzzlement quickly turned into mild irritation at being dragged into a discussion like that on such a pleasant afternoon.

“Gusu Lan’s principles state that…”

“Not you as a Lan disciple,” Nie Huaisang cut him with an impatient gesture. “You as a person. Do you think people can be so evil that there’s no going back for them, that nothing they could do or say would ever compensate for what they’ve done?”

Some of Su She’s irritation eased away, glad as always to be given a chance to voice an opinion that wasn’t that of his sect, and he laid down on the grass again.

“That’s a pretty intense question,” Su She said after a moment. “I guess there’s got to be a limit to what’s forgivable, yeah. I’m not the best to decide what that’d be though. I’ve been told I have an issue with holding grudges. But I think yeah, in general, there’s got to be a moment where a bad person becomes so bad there’s no going back and they just need to be eliminated.”

It wasn’t the answer Nie Huaisang had been hoping for, but it didn’t exactly surprise him either. He thought the same after all, if only because a person such as Wen Ruohan existed, proving to him that some people had to be beyond redemption.

“Then do you think…”

“What’s wrong with you today? Was this morning’s lecture about ethics again?”

“It was about the proper way to address people depending on family and allegiance links, and I fell asleep. No, this is something else. I’m just thinking about stuff lately.”

“Like good and evil? That must have been a pretty nasty nap you took.”

Nie Huaisang shrugged. “I just wonder what makes a person bad or good. Do you think some people can be bad from birth? Just, they’re born and they’re evil, and there’s no way they’re ever going to be anything but evil.”

It really bothered him, the things his future self had said during his last visit. About Lan Xichen, about Su She, but mostly the way he’d spoken of that Xue Yang boy, as if that child were no better than a cockroach needing to be squashed before it could proliferate.

“I think there’s definitely people who think that about some other people,” Su She said. “I’m pretty sure if you asked some of the other Lan disciples, they’d say I’m like that, just because I have a temper and I don’t hug their knees quite enough and I ask too many questions during some lessons. I guess it’s easier to hate someone if you tell yourself they’re the worst and they deserve it.”

“You’re not evil!” Nie Huaisang cried out, reaching out for his friend’s hand. “You’re not! I’ll fight anyone who says you are!”

Surprised by that outburst, Su She blinked a few times then snorted, pushing away Nie Huaisang’s hand.

“I appreciate it, but it didn’t go so well last time you tried to fight for my honour.”

“I’ll still fight all of them!”

Su She laughed, but appeared quite happy to hear that. Even now that other Lans gave him less of a hard time, he still liked being reminded that Nie Huaisang was on his side, just as he made sure Nie Huaisang knew the opposite was true as well.

That was why Nie Huaisang was telling him about his thoughts, rather than going to Lan Qiren or even Lan Xichen who surely might have more elaborate opinions on the matter of good and evil. Su She might not have read quite as much, but he was also less likely to judge Nie Huaisang for asking that kind of thing. Besides, since Su She’s opinions were often less polished, they felt more honest than if he’d quoted great thinkers of the past.

“But really, do you think a person can actually be evil from birth?” Nie Huaisang insisted when Su She had stopped laughing. “Like. Like a child, but they’re evil. Do you think that’s possible?”

Su She grabbed a strand of grass, and started twisting it between his fingers.

“Maybe. But like I said, people will mostly say that about someone they don’t like, or someone that doesn’t play by their rules, or else they’re not from a prestigious family and they’re just doing what they have to survive.”

He paused to pluck some more grass to play with, and started constructing a knot with it.

“I have a great-uncle I’ve never met,” Su She explained. “He owned a farm before he died where he worked hard, until there was a very bad drought and hard work wasn’t enough anymore. My grandfather often said that people called his brother evil because he did some bad things to feed his wife and children, and some of it really was pretty awful I guess. But nobody ever called evil the magistrate that wanted to force him to pay his taxes instead of buying food. My great-uncle was executed for his crimes and everyone said he’d always been evil and vicious even though they used to praise him as a good man before, but the magistrate got a promotion for making sure taxes were still paid and he got called virtuous. And that’s… I don’t know, I feel there’s something not right in that, you know?”

Nie Huaisang nodded, his eyes fixed on the grass knot that Su She wouldn't stop twisting between his fingers.

His older self had said that this Xue Yang he had to kill was an orphan, and a thief of some sort even though he was just ten.

It would be harder to be virtuous and noble for someone who didn’t have anyone to turn to. Nie Huaisang had his whole family behind him, all the education anyone could have, he knew about ethics and rules, and he still found it hard sometimes to make the right choices. He was too lazy and selfish to ever be really good, and apparently he wasn’t going to improve with age. So how could a child on his own, without books or wise elders, learn to be a good person, especially if like Nie Huaisang they’d been given a bad personality?

“Ok, I have another question.”

Su She sighed, and threw away his grass knot.

“Is it a weird one again?”

Nie Huaisang grimaced.

“Yeah, that one is pretty weird,” he admitted. “So, imagine there’s a very evil person. The most evil you can think of, but you don’t actually know them, it’s just that someone told you that person is very evil. And, for some reason, you’re given a chance to go back to when they were a little kid, and that person who told you this other guy is evil also tells you that you should take the chance and kill the evil person while he’s a kid to save other people. Would you do it, or would you try to… I don’t know, maybe try to make that kid grow up around better people so maybe he doesn’t turn out so bad?”

“Those questions are getting really specific.”

“Just answer. Do you think it’d be right to kill that kid?”

Su She fell silent for a moment.

“Do I trust the person who told me the kid will be evil later?”

Nie Huaisang considered that question.

“Yeah. I guess for the sake of the argument, you trust that person,” he said, even though he wasn’t quite sure how much he did trust his older self.

“And has the kid done anything evil yet?”

“No, but he’s done bad things. Maybe he stole some stuff. But also, he’s an orphan, you know?”

Su She sat up and gave his friend a sharp look.

“Really specific again. I guess… I guess it’d be wrong to kill him though. I mean, it’s like you said, why not try to put him in a better place instead? If he’s just a kid, and he hasn’t done anything bad yet… I don’t think it’s really fair to punish someone for something they haven’t even done yet.”

“Right? I think so too. People should get a chance before they’re punished. They’ve got to have a chance to learn!”

Su She nodded, but look more and more suspicious.

“So, is this all about someone in particular, or…”

“I’m just wondering stuff,” Nie Huaisang quickly said. The truth was too weird for anyone to ever believe, even if he tried to tell someone. Su She would just think he was crazy. Maybe he was, anyway. “I’ve got to think about something during boring lessons, right? I mean, don’t you start thinking about weird stuff too?”

“Sometimes I think about leaving the Cloud Recesses and creating my own sect when I’m bored,” Su She replied.

Nie Huaisang sat up, a grin on his face.

“Really? What would it be like?”

“Like Gusu Lan, but better,” Su She retorted with a smug smile. “And I’d get to sleep half a shichen later in the morning. You’re welcome to join us if you’d like, since you know how to play the guqin now. You can be my right hand man.”

Nie Huaisang’s grin only grew larger. It sounded like a delightful idea, and he eagerly dropped all his earlier thoughts about ethics and morality to instead make Su She talk about the sect of his dreams, until it was time for dinner.

-

That had to have been Lan Qiren’s most boring lecture to date. Quite the accomplishment, Nie Huaisang thought. Another accomplishment, and one far more impressive, was the fact that he’d managed to stay awake through all of it. It was really hard lately to pay attention, especially now that he didn’t need to. His grades during tests had been so consistently low that he couldn’t have passed even if he tried, so he really should have been allowed to skip those last few lessons and go have fun somewhere. He was going to hear all that stuff again in a year, wasn’t he?

If he hadn’t feared the Lans’ punishment methods, Nie Huaisang would have skipped all these stupid classes and ran off to Gusu for some fun.

If he hadn’t feared his brother’s wrath, he would also have stopped bothering with homework. But Lan Xichen had hinted to him, not unwisely, that Nie Mingjue might be a little less angry if he could be shown proof that his brother had really tried to learn. And considering the stunt Nie Huaisang was thinking of pulling with Xue Yang… 

So, Nie Huaisang had stayed awake in class, and he’d been handed back some previous homework with a grade so high he’d actually asked Lan Qiren if there hadn’t been a mistake. Lan Qiren had told him that if the grade didn’t please him, it was always possible to lower it, so Nie Huaisang had kept his mouth shut after that. 

The rest of the lesson had passed surprisingly fast after that, and soon enough Nie Huaisang was free again, with a whole afternoon ahead of him. He had new homework to deal with, sure, and it was something that would be graded again, but that didn’t feel urgent. Sadly, Su She had already warned that he wouldn’t be free to hang out that day, due to being allowed to go on a Night Hunt with some other Lan juniors, something he’d been very excited about. That meant Nie Huaisang would have to stay on his own, or go bother Lan Xichen. 

The second option felt surprisingly compelling, even though they’d already see each other in three days for his music lesson. Lan Xichen was sure to praise him for his good grade after all, and Nie Huaisang quite enjoyed being praised, as he’d discovered. If more people praised him, he might start feeling like doing something to deserve it.

Nie Huaisang had just decided he’d try to see if Lan Xichen had time for him when Jin Zixun grabbed him by the elbow and started pulling him away from everyone else.

"How come you had a good grade on that essay?" Jin Zixun asked with unwarranted suspicion.

Nie Huaisang, who had briefly wondered if he was going to get punched again and was getting ready to escape, relaxed and allowed the other boy to drag him away.

"I'm actually very smart, thanks." 

"You're only smart on homework and never on quizzes," Jin Zixun retorted. "Is your merchant friend helping you?" 

That earned him a light kick to the shin, which he didn’t appear to feel.

"Don’t call him that!” Nie Huaisang warned. “And, no, he's said he doesn't want to think about learning when we hang out."

"Then it's Lan gongzi who does your homework for you."

That hit a little too close. Stung in his pride, Nie Huaisang’s freed himself from Jin Zixun’s grip and stopped walking, arms crossed on his chest.

"He doesn't! He just corrects my drafts! And lately most of what's in my essays is all my own, actually! I only fail in quizzes because I panic and because I don't have enough time."

It was something he’d realised during his music lessons with Lan Xichen, actually. Nie Huaisang needed to do things at his own speed, or else he couldn’t do things at all. It wasn’t a problem with Lan Xichen who allowed him to take breaks and even have a snack if he struggled too much to focus, but Lan Qiren and the other teachers hadn’t taken it too well when he’d tried to eat candies during quizzes, or when he started doodling during an exam because it helped him focus. It also fell into deaf ears when he pleaded to be given a little more time when, by some random chance, he actually did know the answer to a question and had so much to say that the allotted time wasn’t enough.

By comparison, homework was easy. Especially when Lan Xichen allowed him to come into his room and work there while he dealt with his own work. The company of a studious person really helped. 

"Fine,” Jin Zixun said, grabbing his arm again. “Then you're going to help me with my essays. I’m just barely passing and if I don't get a good grade on the last set of homework, old man Lan is going to make me come back next year."

Jin Zixun started pulling again, but Nie Huaisang resisted this time.

"Why should I help you?" 

"Because your grades are so bad you're sure to be sent back next year, and then we'd be stuck together again." 

"I need to think. I don't care that much about being stuck with you. You're not the worst person I know." 

"I'm… not?" Jin Zixun asked, sounding so shocked that Nie Huaisang snorted.

"Not even close to it," Nie Huaisang assured him, thinking of his future self. With that point of comparison, a lot of people had become almost agreeable to him. 

"Oh. I'm not sure I have another argument in my favour," Jin Zixun admitted. "Usually that one is enough." 

Nie Huaisang snorted again. He could imagine that a lot of people would do whatever Jin Zixun asked of them, just so he’d stop talking to them for a little while. He was, after all, a complete prick, without skill or above average good looks to compensate. Still, Nie Huaisang felt a little sorry for him.

Besides, he was convinced that his future self would hate to see him waste time being nice to someone whom he didn’t deem useful, and that really sealed the deal.

"Okay I'll help,” he sighed, as if conceding to something that cost him a lot, when in truth he didn’t mind that much. “But only because I'm sorry for you."

"Hey!" 

"And I'm just helping,” Nie Huaisang warned. “You're still doing the actual work.”

“You’re just lazy,” Jin Zixun complained, pulling again on Nie Huaisang’s arm who, this time, willingly started to follow him toward the cabin where the Jin disciples stayed.

“I sure am,” Nie Huaisang agreed with a bright smile. “And I’m also thirsty, so let’s have tea while you work!”

Jin Zixun complained and grumbled and called him spoiled, but still did serve him what had to be the best tea he had on hand as they worked together.

-

A loud, discordant rang through the otherwise silent room until Nie Huaisang put down his hands on the guqin’s strings to silence it. His eyes prickled with tears yet unspilled. It was a simple enough melody, and he’d worked on it all week, wanting to surprise Lan Xichen with his progress by playing for him something they hadn't worked on together. Even the other Nie disciples, who fluctuated between indifference and annoyance at his new obsession with music, had praised him for playing it so well the night before.

But now he was there, in Lan Xichen’s room, trying to actually play that damn melody, and his fingers just refused to obey him.

“Give me another chance,” he begged, quickly pressing the back of his hand to one eye, just to make sure he hadn’t actually started crying. “I swear I can play it! I worked so hard on it, I’ll show you!”

“If you say you can play it, I believe you,” Lan Xichen replied. “You’ve had a rough day, it’s normal to be affected. Let’s put away the guqin for now and have some tea instead. It’ll do you good.”

When Lan Xichen got up and turned around to go boil water, Nie Huaisang felt a few tears of frustration fall on his cheek which he quickly wiped away. It was stupid, and it wasn’t fair, and he hated that things could impact him life that.

“It’s not like I thought I had any chance of passing anyway,” he hissed, hands clenching into fists. “I knew I was going to fail, it’s stupid that I’m upset about this!”

“Knowing something and actually experiencing it aren’t the same,” Lan Xichen replied. “It’s normal to be upset, Huaisang.”

Nie Huaisang shrugged, and wiped another tear. What did Lan Xichen know about failing anyway? He was always stupidly perfect, always did everything well, a favourite of every teacher, admired by all their peers, far more handsome than a boy of eighteen had any right to be, with a cultivation level that only Nie Mingjue, a freak of nature, could surpass. It was easy for Lan Xichen to say being upset was normal, when he’d probably never failed anything in his entire life.

By the time Lan Xichen returned to the table with a teapot and two glasses, Nie Huaisang was sulking, though thankfully he was too angry at himself to cry anymore. Lan Xichen took one look at him and went to fetch something else. He carefully put a little wooden box in front of Nie Huaisang, then started pouring tea for both of them.

“Take one,” Lan Xichen encouraged, nodding toward the box. “Take as many as you like, in fact. Just don’t tell anyone about them. I’m not supposed to have those.”

Intrigued, Nie Huaisang opened the box and discovered an array of cheap candies, which made Nie Huaisang grin against his will.

“What happened to the rules about avoiding unhealthy foods?”

“Wangji would have a fit,” Lan Xichen sighed, eyes glancing toward the door, as if just by mentioning his name, Lan Wangji might appear out of thin air to scold them. “But I know I can trust you to keep the secret.”

“No choice, you’ve made me an accomplice,” Nie Huaisang replied, grabbing one piece of candy. It was disgustingly sweet, almost making his jaw ache.

So he reached for another, his fingers briefly brushing against Lan Xichen who’d done the same. Nie Huaisang quickly removed his hand, startled at the sensation of warm skin.

“Lan gongzi, what if you adopted me as your new little brother?” Nie Huaisang suggested to try and pretend he hadn't had such a strong reaction just from an accidental touch. “I promise to be a very good didi. I will never get upset at you for wanting to have a little fun sometimes, and I’ll never denounce you to Lan Qiren either. And you will be my nice Lan-gege… ah ! Better yet, you'll be Xichen-ge! Always kind and patient, and you won’t mind at all that I’m bad at everything because I’m very sweet and funny.”

“A tempting offer,” Lan Xichen replied with an odd smile. “Wangji certainly never calls me ‘ge’ because he finds it too informal, whereas I think I quite like it, so I might adopt you just for that. But alas, Mingjue-xiong would be heartbroken if I stole his beloved brother from him, and so I must decline.”

Nie Huaisang took a sip of tea and sighed deeply.

“I don’t think he’ll mind at all. As it is, he might just disown me himself anyway.”

"Your brother will understand," Lan Xichen replied while taking another candy. "He'll be angry at first, but it won't last. If it worries you so much, I can write to him and tell him how hard you've been working. It's a shame homework doesn't count more toward passing, or I do think you'd be graduating."

Nie Huaisang shrugged. It was always like that: if he was good at something, it was always something which didn't matter. Even being skilled at music… what good was that to anyone, in the end? 

"What if he doesn't forgive me though?" 

"He will," Lan Xichen replied with confidence. "You are his precious little brother, I don't think he could ever stay mad at you very long." 

Nie Huaisang thought of his older self, so convinced that Nie Mingjue despised him, and sighed. 

"Maybe someday he'll get tired of forgiving me. Maybe someday I'll… maybe someday I'll do something that's too much," he muttered, thinking of his plan regarding Xue Yang. "I'll go too far, and then he'll hate me. And if he hates me, I'll…" 

"Your brother loves you," Lan Xichen said. "He loves you as much as you love him. I don't think there's anything in the world that could change that."

That sounded like a challenge. As it happened, Nie Huaisang had given that topic a lot of thought lately, and he'd reached a conclusion. 

"I can think of at least two things I could do that would make him hate me," he announced. 

"Is that so?" Lan Xichen asked with a smile, as if he really believed such a thing to be impossible. 

That gave Nie Huaisang some comfort. Lan Xichen was Nie Mingjue's best friend in the world, as close to him as he was to Su She. Lan Xichen had to know Nie Mingjue better than anyone else did, even if things were fated to start going bad between them someday. 

"I could betray him to Wen Ruohan," Nie Huaisang said. "He'd never forgive that." 

Lan Xichen took a sip of tea and nodded. 

"Not if you did it on purpose, no. But I also think it isn't in your nature to willingly side with his enemies, and he would forgive you if you were tricked into it." 

"Xichen-ge has a very high opinion of me, I feel undeserving." 

"I'm only stating the truth. Now, what's the other thing you think Mingjue-xiong wouldn't forgive?" 

"Marrying into Lanling Jin." 

Lan Xichen chortled. 

A real, honest to god, ugly laugh. He tried to hide it under a cough, but it was too late, Nie Huaisang had heard it and it delighted him. So even the ever perfect first jade of Gusu Lan could laugh like that! 

"Well? What do you think of that one?" 

"I think you're right this time," Lan Xichen agreed, still coughing. "It might be too much for him. In fact, I'll even say you'd deserve it." 

"What? Xichen-ge, how cruel!" Nie Huaisang lamented, one hand over his heart. "Maybe I’ve found my one true love, and…”

“So all Jin Zixun had to do was break your nose and now you want to marry him?”

“Oh that’s pushing the joke too far,” Nie Huaisang said with a grimace, quickly bringing one hand to his nose, following the bone with one finger to try and feel the break. “He’s not my type at all, and anyway we’re both brats, it wouldn’t work out at all. Still, in theory, if I were to marry into Lanling Jin…”

Lan Xichen only smiled more widely. 

“Would you, though?”

“Why not? There’s got to be a few that are decent. I mean, Zixun is occasionally almost tolerable, he can’t be the only one.”

“Oh, certainly there are some very fine people in that sect. I was talking more about the fact that you’d have to wear yellow for the rest of your life. Is that really something you could put up with?”

Thinking of the way those Jin disciples dressed, Nie Huaisang gasped and pressed both hands to his mouth to silence a cry of horror.

“That’s a good point! It’s not even a nice shade of yellow, either!" he cried out, trying to picture himself wearing it. It would be awful, he quickly decided. "I think it would wash out my complexion and make me look sickly. Maybe if it were a touch closer to brown, or even better a bit greenish, maybe I could consider it, but I really can’t marry into a sect that favours such a dreadful colour. I guess I’ll… why are you smiling?”

Lan Xichen, once more hiding his face behind his sleeve, turned away as if it might help dissimulate his grin. 

“Because you are quite funny," he chuckled. "I don’t think anyone else would consider it a deal-breaker for marriage that they don’t like another sect’s colour.”

“Easy for you to say, Xichen-ge, you’d look good in any hue! Some of us have to be careful!”

Lan Xichen lowered his hand, his face suddenly serious once more except for a certain glint in his eyes.

“Huaisang, you really sell yourself short sometimes. I think you’d look quite good in any colour,” he eagerly said, before breaking into a fit of giggles as he added: “Any colour except Jin yellow, that is.”

It wasn’t even that funny, Nie Huaisang thought as he started laughing too. But Lan Xichen’s unexpected hilarity was too contagious to be resisted, and he’d been feeling down all day, so he just went for it and enjoyed the moment. It took them ages to ever calm down.

When they did though, Lan Xichen suggested that perhaps Nie Huaisang might try again to play that song he’d practiced.

This time, he played it perfectly, better even than he’d ever done before.

[ready-to-obeyme]

I see that ask is open! I've been thinking what if MC decides to stay with the demons forever, after all she's only human, years will pass and she will keep aging, losing her beauty and becoming more fragile, while the demons will remain young and handsome. Can you write about MC sharing this concern with the demon brothers and how they'd react to it ❤️ "Would you still love me when I'm old and ugly"

Scenario: “Would you still love me when I’m old and ugly?” + Demon Brothers Reactions

//the theme of devotion and dedication ALWAYS has me emo; I ADORE this prompt, so thanks for sending this in! I’m a real sucker for the immortal/mortal relationship conflicts 

let me know what you think! :)

starts singing Young and Beautiful by Lana del Rey 

Note: I kept it gender neutral “you” as per usual! 

--

Lucifer

“Yes,” Lucifer says to you, taking your hand and pressing his lips to your knuckles. “And I’ll continue to love you even after. Death will not stop me from loving you, let alone how your face may change-- though I dare say I’d still think you’d be beautiful regardless.”

Calm as ever on the outside-- especially if you’re evidently concerned about this. He won’t hesitate to ensure that you know that his love goes far beyond what you look like on the outside or to how capable/strong you are. Lucifer refuses to hear anything self-deprecating, and he will NEVER let you doubt that he loves you as you are. (He’s real good at smooth-talking AND dirty-talk-- don’t test him or do.) Body worship probably becomes more of a regular thing because he really does adore every part of you because they make you you.  

When he’s alone with his thoughts though, his mind tends to wander and it scares him to think that one day he will lose you, but it makes him cherish the times you do have together even more. He surprisingly is indulgent to a lot more of your whims thereafter and tries harder to not let work get in the way of being with you. If anything, this concern of yours has reminded him that time is finite for you, so he’d like to be able to spend the rest of your life with you, if you’d allow it. 

-

Mammon

Mammon is actually a little indignant and goes on a tangent because the thought of even not being in love with you is just… not possible to him. Who cares if you’ve got a few wrinkles? Who cares if you need a little help walking? You’re still going to be the person he fell in love with.  

“First of all,” he starts, fuming, “you’re never gonna be ugly to me-- so get that squared away, alright?” 

“Secondly, when you’re old, I’m gonna be there for you. No matter what!” 

“Thirdly,” he says, surprisingly serious. “there’s nothin’ in all three realms that would make me fall out of love with ya. I’m crazy for you, can’t you see?”

He’s definitely a little embarrassed after that outburst (especially if that was in public), but he needs to let you know that you’re important to him. He can’t have you think for a second that his feelings will waver the moment something changes-- he’s your first man FOR LIFE. Forgive him for being a little extra the next few days; he’s going to compliment you for everything you wear and probably get into squabbles with anyone who says otherwise-- but he’s doing it for your sake so you feel a little warm. If you were ever feeling sad about that concern, the thought is gone from your mind when Mammon is there looking at you like you hung the moon and stars.

-

Leviathan

I think this question may come as a surprise to him, and it does make him a little flustered. It’s never crossed his mind that things would eventually change because you’re a human because, to be quite honest, he’s focused on time he spends with you in the now. But he supposes he does see some changes. Your hair grows, your appearance changes as you age… but did you think he wouldn’t love you when you grow old or that he won’t find you loveable when you’re older because his anime characters won’t age? That’s probably the first thing in his head (and yours if that is a concern of yours), and he’s quick to drop whatever he’s holding or playing and grasping onto your hands.

“Of course! Of course I will! I told you, didn’t I? You’re going to be my Player 2-- now and forever!” 

“And you’re not going to be ugly,” he tells you fervently. “Never. Not possible. Not to me.”

He’ll try his best to comfort you if you are feeling down about it though, probably using comparisons and how seasons may change a character but that doesn’t mean Levi loves them any less-- which applies to you even MORE. How could he not love you? For whatever enjoyment he gains from anime and games, there is nothing better than to know that you’re by his side, which means that he’s going to be by YOUR side too when you need him. If life was a co-op, he’d like to be your Player 2 for as long as he can. 

Satan

“Of course I will. Nothing will change how I feel about you.”

Satan’s answer is straight-forward, calm, and almost immediate-- which is sweet, like there was never a question in his mind that his feelings will remain the same no matter what happens. If you’re feeling a little down about it though, his eyes will soften and he’ll pull you into his arms and kiss your forehead. “I’m in love with who you are on the inside-- not that I don’t think you’re beautiful,” he fumbles, embarrassed but pushing through to make sure his thoughts were known to you. “But I fell in love with everything about you: your laugh, the way you wake up in the morning, how your hands fit in mine… And these things just don’t change.” 

“And even when your mind wanders,” he says, kissing your brow. “I’ll love you still.” 

No matter how many times you bring this up, he always patiently lets you vent to him. He can’t possibly imagine how it must feel to grow old and change in such a small (to him) amount of time, but if anything he’s ready to understand how you feel so he can help you feel better-- as much as he can. Satan does probably push the thought of you growing old to the back of his head-- not because he doesn’t think he’ll love you (definitely not, he’ll stay around you as long as you love him), but because the thought of losing you to old age is not something he’s thought of much.

(That’s something he’ll have to reflect on on his own.) 

-

Asmodeus

Asmo probably makes jokes like him being beautiful enough for the both of you, but I think in reality, he takes your concern quite seriously. No matter how much he may take pride in his own appearance and the beauty of others, it is you who he’ll love regardless of how old you grow. He genuinely believes that you truly are beautiful, no matter the number of wrinkles on your hands or the crows feet by your eyes. In fact, he thinks they’d be lovable on you. As you change he’ll find that there is something lovely about those changes because now there are other sides of you he’ll get to love and discover. 

“Don’t you know true beauty is on the inside?” He’ll tell you, holding you to his chest and stroking your hair. 

From then on, he takes offense if anyone negatively points out any signs of aging on you (“Aging is not a bad thing, honey-- it makes you look more distinguished”) and discourages you from hiding your blemishes and wrinkles if you think they make yourself less appealing to him but would help you if you would like to do a little make-up. (He definitely would make love to you just to show you eagerly that you are still attractive to him.)

-

Beelzebub

He doesn’t understand at first. He knows how short the human lifespan is-- certainly, in the back of his mind-- but the idea that you could become even weaker and more fragile than you already are as a human is-- to say it simply, terrifying. If you’re asking this truly out of concern, he will undoubtedly come up to you and hold both of your hands in his gently.

“I’ll love you no matter what. And I think you’re beautiful no matter how old you may look-- you’re still you.”

He’s a little scared to think how easily you could get hurt, so he makes sure to be extra careful with his strength and learn how to support you when you need it. Beel will protect you as you grow older, be patient when you are no longer spry, and help you when your body fails you. He is (physically) the strongest in the family, so he takes it as a personal mission to make sure he takes care of you when you no longer can. He probably takes extra note to compliment you every time you ask for his opinion, and will continue to tell you you look beautiful everyday-- even if you aren’t wearing anything special-- just to remind you that he thinks you’re beautiful inside and out. 

-

Belphegor

“If all you want to do in the future is sleep, I’ll do that. If all you can do is be with me, then that’s fine too. I’ll love you anyways.”

A little alarmed when you address this concern to you, but you wouldn’t have known. He keeps a pretty calm veneer but much like his brother, the thought of losing you so soon is terrifying. Regardless of how scared he may feel thinking about the day that you’ll one day grow old and pass away in this short human life span of yours, whatever he said was the truth: it doesn’t matter to him if you’re old or if you’re ‘ugly’ (as if that would ever happen in his eyes), because he promised to protect you and to be there when you needed him-- and he takes that promise very seriously. (Till death do us part.) 

Belphie clings to you a little tighter when you sleep together and follows you around a little more for the next few days, and makes it a point of making sure he wouldn’t care how much you change your appearance. If anything, this makes him fall even more in love with you. He’s always loved humans and the fact they make the most of their lives despite how short they are-- and he want to make sure that every second of your life is the best he can give you.

[soobrat]

*･༓☾ bloodshot // johnny ☽༓･*

chapter i // masterlist

*pairing* you x johnny + jungwoo

*chapter rating* mature

*warnings* gore (I'll put a marker up to where it starts and ends for the squeamish), explicit sexual content, mentions of slurs and sexism

*word count* 2.4k

*disclaimer(s)* I obviously don't think johnny or any other members would act this way. Please don't take anything I write seriously as it is just for fun. I in no way view idols differently and inappropriately in real life because of my smuts or any of their contents!

((TW: you “injure yourself” in this chapter but it’s not driven by any mental health circumstances))

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

Well, everyone thinks you're crazy now. You really didn't think kicking a toothpick under your toenail would catch this many headlines. Or maybe it was the reason you did it that has everyone's panties in a twist.

"Popular Streamer _____ Injures Herself After Altercation with Fellow Streamer jonssuh"

You had to prove your point. You had no desire to be cordial with that son of a bitch.

"Come on, ___. You love me, right?" Johnny taps on his cheek with his index finger. The gesture was seemingly in slow motion as your blood boiled. You wanted to knock that stupid grin off his face. You balled your fists tightly as the men- no, boys laughed at his joke. Or lack thereof.

"You're so overdramatic." Lucas rolls his eyes at your stubbornness. You felt triumphant as you felt the boys getting upset. Finally their smug acts were over. It was suffocating. You glared at the two massive men as they leaned on the kitchen island, glaring back at you.

"You actually hate Johnny?" You turn to see Mark on the sofa, pushing himself forward a little so he can see beyond the other men on the sofa. His face read of concern. Good. He should be concerned.

"That's what I've been trying to fucking tell everyone. My viewers, you guys, the commentary youtubers, your viewers, everyone! I'm not joking, I was never joking, I could sleep easy knowing I'd never see Johnny again." You turn your gaze back at Johnny who had that amused smirk back on his face.

"You're so full of shit, you know that?"

"And why is that?" You maneuver around the island to stand firmly in front of the human skyscraper. You felt your adrenaline pumping as the air grew more tense.

"Okay guys this is getting stupid. Stop before you do something dumb." Taeyong piped up, you could hear the annoyance in his voice. You stayed put, awaiting Johnny's response. He tilts his head upward and crosses his arms, feigning deep thought.

"Well I don't know, you always seem to be around me. And hm... I don't know... the fact that I did nothing to you." The venom in Johnny's voice made you shift in place with glee. It was very difficult to not smile. You were successfully getting under his skin.

Finally a man among your mutual streamer friends was the one someone made squirm for someone else's amusement. No more sexism and just flat out being a jerk for shock value. Or to just solely make you feel like shit while everyone else laughed. Now you were laughing while Johnny gritted his teeth.

"You see, you did do something and you know you did. Look it's just my personal opinion that you're a piece of dog shit." You finally let a smile stretch across your features as you let one of his signature lines rip.

"Ah, so that's what this is about?" Johnny scoffed, shifting his weight.

"Those are just jokes. You always take them way too seriously."

You feel the power dynamic shifting again. No, you weren't going to let him use this idiotic defense to gain his position back.

"If those are jokes then you're a shitty comedian." You walk closer to him, looking straight into his eyes as you over-enunciate each letter in your insult.

"Everyone else seems to like them." Johnny shrugs, keeping his composure. The dynamic was shifting once more. You snort at his reply.

"Who's "everyone"? The little boys in this room?" You hear the boys grumble in protest around you.

"Or your 12 year old fans who think saying the N word is a punchline. Very impressive audience, Kevin Hart." You chuckle. Johnny stayed quiet for a while nodding as he shifted back and forth. You could feel how no one was on your side, but you muscled forward, trying to ignore it.

"So you're telling me you hate me, because of some stupid jokes-"

You laugh loudly.

"Of course you take two steps back when you're backed into a corner."

"We're not stupid, ____. I get it, I'm a popular streamer and beef with me would get you some decent numbers. But keep it on stream, babe." He pats your shoulder and attempts to move past you.

"I would rather kick a toothpick under my toenail than be forced to coexist with you. I promise it's not a publicity stunt." You cross your arms tightly.

"Oh yeah?" Johnny's footsteps thunder past you as he reaches for a package of toothpicks. He brings them to the island, dumping them onto the countertop. Countless toothpicks clatter onto the granite, some spilling over onto the linoleum tiles. The guys groan and protest in the background, most notably, Taeyong.

"See- This is what the fuck I'm talking about, man. You guys are so fucking ridiculous."

(gore marker)

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

It was the anger that Taeyong didn't understand why you loathed this man. It was the way Johnny's nostrils flared at you as he gestured to the toothpicks that egged you on. Your movements are theatrical as you take two fingers to lift a single toothpick from the countertop.

"No fucking way?!" Lucas cackled in disbelief. Everyone watched in awe as you saunter to the nearest wall, placing the toothpick under your right big toenail.

"____ cut it out! What the fuck?" Taeyong shot up from the couch, attempting to stop you but it was too late. The mixture of searing pain and screeches of disbelief and disgust overwhelmed your senses. The room spun as your eyesight faded in and out. You stumbled backwards but Taeyong caught you before you could fall. Your toe was burning hot while blood ran down from the wound in various directions. You didn't want to look at it. Taeyong scoops you up and quickly whisks you away to the bathroom.

The maddening discourse was just blurred background noise as Taeyong sat you on the toilet. Your vision was going blurry, hearing going in and out as Taeyong reprimanded you. You couldn't decipher a word he was saying.

"Could you shut up and take it out please." Hot tears poured down your cheeks. Taeyong paused, shutting the bathroom door. The decrease in volume brought you back down to earth. Unfortunately, this meant the pain was clear as well. You inhale sharply before exhaling shakily. Your foot shook violently as you finally saw the viscera. You whimpered worriedly, in disbelief at yourself. Your hands shook as well as you grabbed for something, anything. One hand landed on Taeyong's arm. The other tugged a towel off a bar, the poorly assembled bar coming down as well with a loud clang.

You began to sob, not knowing how to deal with the excruciating pain. You choked, looking away as Taeyong finally removed the toothpick. Your lips tremble as you attempt to stifle your sobs. You squeeze Taeyong's arm but your body never stops shaking.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"I'm sorry... I didn't know you were serious."

"You still laughed." Your voice quivered. The words came out louder than you anticipated. Johnny probably heard that. Great.

You hiss loudly as Taeyong applies peroxide.

"You need to go to the hospital, this is worse than I thought."

"Yeah, whatever." You stay turned away from him and the wound. You hear him sigh.

You gave permission to Lucas to tell the story on his stream. You wanted people to know that you will not just sit pretty and giggle while a greasy man talks down to you. You do not associate with Johnny Suh. And now the world finally understood this fact.

Except, your plan backfired. People think you're insane. For good reason. The more days go by, the more idiotic you feel. Of course if backfired. Also, "jonssuh" was bigger than you. Of course people would side with him no matter what.

"People hate me now." You see the opportunity to steal Jisoo's knight, so quickly you do so.

"Checkmate." Jisoo utters as you realize your king is fucked from all directions.

"Fuck."

"You always take the bait so fast. Also, who cares if a bunch of racist white boys hate you. They're all probably 13 anyways." Jisoo starts to put the pieces away but you stop her.

"One more round. Also, that's what I said. But let's be real, they're not all 13. Full grown adults are calling me over-sensitive. Some of them are female as well. That shit hurts." You set up your side with a pout.

"Even so, their opinions still don't matter. They have horrible senses of humor. If "go make me a sandwich" makes them laugh, their opinion is no longer valid." You make you first move.

"I guess."

Even so, the comments and tweets still stuck in your brain. Some of the boys defend you over social media which made you feel a lot better. At the same time, however, it made you feel worse. Your mind flashes back to that night, the things the guys screamed were finally clear.

Mark was just repeating "oh my god" over and over while gagging. Lucas obnoxiously screamed "YOOO!". Typical. While Johnny... well he pressed both hands to either side of his head, repeating,

"You were serious?"

Yes you dipshit. How could he be so dense?

How are men this influential over you?

-

You wished Jungwoo streamed. He's so funny and sweet. Not to mention he would stick up for you with no hesitation when you were with the other streamers.

"I would've just slapped him as soon as he said you take his "jokes" too seriously."

"I know." You melted into Jungwoo as he traced shapes into your arm. Your cheek squished against his bare chest as his other hand smoothed over your hair. Your legs tangled together under the covers. Jungwoo kicks them away, muttering something about being hot. The motion causes his legs to brush firmly against your panty clad core. You whimper, digging your nails into the flesh of his bicep.

"Are you needy, princess?"

You nod sheepishly, humping lightly against his leg. He climbs on top of you, spreading your legs apart with his own. He grinds his bulge against your mound, sending shots of electricity up your legs. You look up into his dark eyes. His dark hair messy and half wet. His mouth hung open as he looked at your half naked figure with want.

You twitch, trying desperately to get as much friction as possible. His motions deepen as he grinds against you. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. His thrusts get shorter, brushing perfectly against your hardened clit. Your lips brush against his, both breathing heavily. Your moans become audible as your legs quiver slightly.

He pulls away before freeing his newly erect penis. He jerks it a few times before pushing your panties aside and entering your sopping hole. Strangled noises escape your throat as he bottoms out. You use your legs to pull him even closer. You whimper loudly at how deep his tip burrowed into you.

His hips are poetic as they sway back and forth. His cock was warm and hard as a rock as it moved in and out of you. Your noses bump against each other as he bites your bottom lip. His moans whine and tempt as they twist into your ears. He bites the lobe of your left ear as his love noises increase in volume. You dig your heels into his ass as you let out shallow open-mouthed breaths.

Jungwoo slides his hands underneath your ass to give it a firm squeeze. While doing so he pushes himself even deeper than you imagined he could go. You curse and writhe, raking his back with your fingernails. You bite his shoulder, tears threatening to spill as your stomach tightens. Your wetness spread all over both of your upper thighs. His cock was nearly lost in a sea of your juices as it plummeted deep inside you.

Getting closer, you start bucking upwards. You chased your high feverishly, encouraged by the passion behind your hatred for Johnny Suh. You thought of him. You thought of him as you snapped your hips towards Jungwoo's. You grunt hungrily, thighs quaking as you blindly chased your high.

"I'm so fucking close-" You breathe out as you grind your hips up to meet his. He snaps his hips against yours, movements more erratic and moans more determined. Your pelvis feels hot, stomach tightly wound, and legs going increasingly numb as his cock barreling into you sends you over the edge. Your moans border on a scream as you tug at Jungwoo's hair.

You trail your nails down his neck and back as he continues to thrust sloppily. His hips snap violently a few more times as he ribbons sperm into you. Your chests heave against each other, skin searing hot to the touch.

"Is all that pent up frustration gone now?" He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck as he laughs. You just nod breathlessly. Your stomach flutters as he peppers soft kisses all over your neck and shoulder.

"I could tell that guy really pissed you off."

"Well it was more than just Johnny."

You were both silent for a moment.

“Taeyong too?” He lifts his head to look at you cautiously. You just nod wordlessly.

“It’s also the constant losing fight. I think it may be better to just separate myself from them completely.”

Jungwoo slides off of you, snuggling into your side.

“It must be really difficult.”

You pout slightly, tears pricking at your eyes. You were being such a baby.

“Yeah.”

“Especially with Taeyong not siding with you before the toothpick intervened. I honestly thought you and Taeyong would be an item.”

“Me too.” You chuckled, it seemed so stupid now.

“But he’s in a relationship now, with someone he knows I’ve hated for years now.” Saying it out loud, you couldn’t chuckle anymore.

“This is just a shitty situation, huh?” You force a smile, looking over at Jungwoo. He was far from smiling, however. It almost looked like he was going to cry for you.

“I’m so sorry you have to go through this, ___.” Jungwoo snuggled even closer to you, nuzzling his head into your shoulder again.

“Yeah, me too.” You replied numbly. You didn't know if you regretted Lucas telling his stream or... the entire thing.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　끝　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

[madamebaggio]

Notes: As promised, here is the Margaery ship chosen by you!

This is a direct continuation of this.

I hope you enjoy it ;)

***

Thranduil was incredibly old. He remembered things that history itself had forgotten, and some that he himself wished he could.

He’d seen countries rise and fall, kings and lords losing everything, humans learning and destroying. He loved dearly, he lost things…

Thranduil could go on for days about things he knew -when he was feeling particularly bored he’d do exactly that, just to make his guards sweat.

Legolas -still young and impetuous -would roll his eyes and call his father dramatic. And Thranduil imagined he could be considered dramatic by some standards, but he was too old to actually care.

Besides, drama was one of the last things he could actually enjoy.

As he was this old and experienced in life, it was downright insulting that a human would think of lying to him. Most wouldn’t even try, because they could see in his eyes that he wouldn’t take kindly to it.

But this woman…

If Thranduil was in a generous frame of mind -he hardly ever was -he’d concede that she wasn’t exactly lying to him. She was -at most -hiding parts of the truth, and Thranduil normally didn’t care humans all that much to really be bothered by it.

However, this time, there were dragons involved.

“Let us try this again.” He told her slowly. “What does your Queen want?”

At least Lady Tyrell was smart enough to stop flowering her words. He could see she was still smarting from him calling her out a few minutes ago.

“As you probably already know, Your Majesty, my Queen had to fight hard to get what was rightfully hers.” She started again. “This led to a war, and that itself brought many consequences. Most of all, we are short on allies and some goods. I am here as her emissary to question about those things: friendship and trade.”

Thranduil hummed his understanding, now knowing she was speaking the truth. It wasn’t as pretty as she’d made it sound at first, but it did make sense that the Queen would look for new allies.

He hoped Lady Tyrell wasn’t in a hurry.

“We can discuss this later.” He decided. “I hope you enjoy your stay.”

***

Margaery had dealt with many people throughout her life. She was raised to be the lady of a big house, groomed to be a Queen if the chance presented itself. Her grandmother had sat her on her knee and taught Margaery a lot.

From a young age she’d learned how to read people, and -consequently -how to get what she wanted from them. She always hoped she’d get to be like her grandmother one day.

She talked to lords and ladies, made them think she was sweet and kind; talked to commoners and made them love her. Margaery knew that alliances were important to get what she wanted and she had wanted a lot.

The war for the Iron Throne curbed her ambitions, to the point she was happy to be alive. Many hadn’t  had the same luck; like her grandmother.

Margaery had always wanted to be a Queen, but she’d learned that she’d rather survive this. She wasn’t unhappy serving Queen Daenerys, but she wasn’t sure what she wanted anymore.

She enjoyed the respect brought by her position, and even liked the fact that she was actively doing something for Westeros, but…

Some days she felt as if she was doing things just to survive, just to keep going.

Like this, right now.

It had been a week since she’d been ‘welcomed’ into Greenwood, and she hadn’t seen King Thranduil since then.

When Daenerys suggested going to the elves, everyone thought she’d finally lost it. There had been no contact with the elves for centuries at that point, and everything that was known about them came from songs and legends.

Daenerys had pointed out people thought the same about dragons.

Therefore, Margaery, Tyrion and Varys had sat down and tried to figure out what could be real and what was fantasy.

At that point, immortal beings didn’t seem that far fetched. There had been an army of undead and dragons, so why would that be impossible?

The songs agreed on a few things: elves were beings of pure light, they were beyond beautiful, and they lived for a long time. Everything else was… Not so simple. Some stories pictured them as extremely benevolent creatures, full of goodwill and wisdom. Others portrayed them as fickle and untrustworthy, always willing to sacrifice what they considered ‘lesser’ creatures. It was hard to determine what was fiction, personal impressions, and they didn’t feel comfortable considering any of that actual information.

They poured over maps and figured a general direction and sent messengers.

Margaery hadn’t expected an answer, but she got one.

Tyrion had wanted to go, but Daenerys asked him to let Margaery go instead, since she was much better at first impressions. Marge was starting to think Tyrion might have had better luck with the King.

They were all beautiful; it was downright ridiculous. There wasn’t a single elf she’d seen that was less than stunning; men or women, they all had perfect facial symmetry. And there was this… Strange glow. It did look like they were made of light -or at least had great skin care. And the King…

Margaery wasn’t a girl to be infatuated with good looking men, but… She had never seen a face like his. It was… It was perfect, because there was no other word for it. Even his hair was perfect.

She was still figuring out what was true from what she’d read, and mostly elves were… Odd. She could imagine that being immortal could get boring after a while, and maybe that’s why they seemed too detached from the world.

The only elf who’d talked to her more was Lady Tauriel. She was supposedly guarding Margaery, but the young woman knew she was just keeping an eye on the human.

Tauriel was a fierce warrior, and extremely young by elves’ parameters. She wasn’t even a thousand years old yet.

She was also full of questions. She wanted to know about Westeros, the dragons, the dead, the Queen, the war…

Margaery didn’t mind talking to her, because she was the only one willing to talk back and let the lady know what to expect from elves in general.

There was also prince Legolas, who was also extremely beautiful -not as much as his father, of course. He seemed to mistrust her on principle, but Margaery didn’t care about his opinion at all.

She wanted to talk to the King, but he was never around.

Tauriel admitted that the King did this occasionally, then came around saying that weeks were a blink of an eye to him, so he’d forgotten. She was also unsure if he was serious about it, or just messing with them all.

That wasn’t encouraging.

“Lady Tyrell, the King has invited you for dinner.”

Well, finally.

***

The dinner was intimate, for lack of a better word. If he was anyone else, Margaery would think he was trying to get her alone and seduce her, but the idea seemed laughable when it came to him.

They sat together for the meal and she was served the best wine she’d ever tasted. She tried making small talk for a while, but then got the distinct impression he was amused by her attempts, so she became quiet and waited for him to say something.

“Tell me about your Queen.” He asked eventually. “Not the pretty lies and the poetry. Tell me the truth.”

Margaery took a minute to think about it. “What do you know about the Targaryens and the war that almost ended then, Your Majesty?”

“Nothing about that.” He replied easily. “I don’t pay attention to human affairs. Once the last dragon died, I didn’t care anymore.”

“I see.” Margaery told him about the Mad King and the rebellion against him, and how Daenerys and her brother had escaped and lived in exile. She told him about Daenerys being sold into marriage in exchange for an army.

During the whole tale of Daenerys’ conquests in Essos, Thranduil barely moved. Margaery wasn’t even sure he was actually listening to what she was saying, but -as he didn’t tell her to stop -she just carried on.

That was until she spoke of their first meeting.

“What did you think of her when you first met?” He finally asked.

“I thought she was pretty.” Margaery admitted. “I thought she couldn’t possibly be the woman of the stories. She’s quite short, and looks very dainty.”

“And after?”

This was a tricky question. Margaery had already learned she couldn’t lie to him, and the answer to that question was…

“I was…” She took a sip of her wine to buy herself some time. “I was intimidated. She’s fierce and the people that serve her are loyal. Honestly, at that point I just wanted someone to kill Cersei Lannister.”

“So you didn’t mind what type of person she’d be.”

“No, not really.” Margaery confessed. “I just wanted her to end Cersei, I didn’t particularly care how. I barely escaped King’s Landing with my life, I wanted retribution.”

“Do you believe in your Queen?”

“She’s young.” Margaery spoke diplomatically. “I think she will grow into her role, and she’ll be a great Queen.”

“How political of you.” Thranduil took a sip from his wine, and Marge felt as if she’d lost his interest. “Do people in Westeros still talk about the gods tossing coins to know if a Targaryen will be mad?”

“I… I didn’t know that story was that old.”

“Trust me, it is.” His eyes turned back to her. “Is your Queen mad?”

“No.”

He hummed. “You are uncertain.”

She was. Margaery didn’t dislike or envy Daenerys, and she had supported the Queen and intended to continue doing so.

But…

“Only time will say, sire.”

“You do have a way with words, Lady Tyrell.” He sighed. “I don’t care to listen more about the Dragon Queen. Tell me about yourself, Lady Tyrell.”

“Myself? What would you like to know, sire?”

“The truth, but only the interesting parts.” He was still watching her. “You don’t strike me as a simple woman, and you do seem smarter than most humans.”

Margaery couldn’t help but chuckle. “How kind of you, sire.”

“There’s something about you, Lady Tyrell. Something that is vaguely interesting.”

This time Margaery couldn’t hold in her laughter. “Oh sire. You are so charming.” She couldn’t stop giggling. “I think this wine is too strong.”

The corner of Thranduil’s mouth was curled up. “For some, yes.”

“I can tell you whatever you want to hear, sire, but it’s not that interesting. Or pretty.”

“Pretty stories are normally lies, Lady Tyrell. I’m interested in the truth. Tell me something that will make me pay attention.”

“I’ve been married three times and all of them are dead.” She blurted out a bit less gracefully than she’d have liked. That wine was going way too fast.

Thranduil arched an eyebrow. “Now that is something that sounds interesting.”

[iamdeku]

Friday (I’m In Love): Oikawa x Reader

You don’t know Oikawa Tooru. You don’t want to know Oikawa Tooru. But when fate and circumstance bring you two together, you’re forced to confront, over a series of Fridays, your worst fear. You might have been wrong. Also, you might be in love.

Wordcount: 4.3k

Warnings: Some brief bullying from a girl I accidentally named Annoying. Pining.

Oikawa Tooru was one of the most obnoxious guys you had ever met. He thought he was the coolest guy in school, and he was not at all shy about sharing that opinion. He never stopped talking about himself in that high-pitched, whiny voice of his. You hated him. 

So why you had agreed to tutor him was beyond you.

You supposed it paid well enough, but you were dreading your first session. You had prepared yourself to bite your tongue until it bled through his mansplaining. You were probably going to want to die by the end of the experience, but at least you would have some extra cash for the holidays.

Your boots kicked through the drifts of snow, pure as a coal miner after a long day doing overtime. The cold ice crunched under your weight, and you pulled your coat closer, wishing you had a scarf to help provide protection against the biting wind from the cold flushed skin on your face. Your headphones offered some protection to your ears at least, blasting your favorite song in an effort to raise your spirits.

The warm rush of the library’s heating system slammed into you in a wall of heat as you searched for the annoying setter. It took you longer than you thought to find him, expecting the loud man you knew and instead finding someone significantly more studious. He was hunched over one of the library tables, gray cardigan wrapped around his body, glasses perched on his nose.

You hoisted your satchel more firmly up your shoulder, bracing yourself for whatever weird thing was about to happen. Was he trying to look like he knew what he was talking about? Did he want to show off? You really weren’t sure.

You were hesitant to venture forward, but you did anyway, taking a seat next to him. Oikawa immediately looked up, blinking at you a couple of times before giving one of his usual smiles.

“Oh good, you’re here! As much as I’m great at everything, I have to admit that this has been giving me a little bit of trouble. I was so happy to hear you could help me. Iwa-chan won’t anymore, that traitor.”

You couldn’t blame Iwaizume for getting frustrated with Oikawa’s behavior, even if he had chosen to befriend the disaster sitting casually in front of you. You pulled out your books, writing utensils and laptop. You were a self-professed nerd, so you had brought a surplus of pens, highlighters, and other instruments to the table. You had a reputation to keep up after all.

“Well, I guess we should get to work. What part of this are you having trouble understanding?” You asked, pulling open your textbook.

Oikawa explained his troubles to you, and you were surprised to find how intelligent he was. Everything he found difficult to understand was...well, understandable. You could see why he would struggle in those areas, and for some of them you had struggled as well, despite this being your favorite subject. 

Even more surprising, you found out he could be a good listener when he wanted to be. It was alarming, actually, how attentively he could listen. Damn it, he took notes on the things you said, writing down the important parts of your explanations.

As you started to pack up, you saw sparks of the Oikawa you knew.

“Thanks for that, cutie. You’re pretty smart, you know? Of course, you’re smart enough to already know that. Besides, I wouldn’t have asked you to tutor me if you weren’t the best.” He winked. “See you next Friday.”

He didn’t even ask if you wanted to meet him next week. Gosh, he was the worst.

 Even with Oikawa “I’m the Worst” Tooru dragging you down, you were still resolved to keep showing up to these tutoring sessions. They weren’t half as bad as you thought they would be, and you hadn’t stopped needing the money. You could have gotten a better gig, but frankly this was a pretty easy job, easier than you thought it would be. It was, loathe though you were to say it, the best option.

Besides, you were the kind of person who kept their promises, though you weren’t sure you could say the same of Oikawa.

He was late. He was a whole 3 minutes late and you were only on your second session. If he kept up this kind of behavior you were going to have to have a serious discussion with him about timeliness. Your time was valuable, and none of this had anything at all to do with you needing something to justify your dislike of him.

You were halfway through writing your future lecture on timeliness when Oikawa arrived, slightly breathless and windswept, cheeks pink from the cold. Despite looking as though he had run all the way here, he had the nerve to still look all handsome and charismatic. It irritated you.

“Sorry about being late. The guys and I were practicing volleyball and we totally lost track of time.”

He gave you a sheepish smile, recognizing his mistake, and something in the general area of your chest did a little flip. It was probably a rib rotating in disgust.

“It’s alright. Just don’t let it happen again.”

Oikawa gave you his signature charming smile as he sat next to you.

“You know, you could stand to loosen up a little. I know you’re more fun than this, somewhere deep down in that nerdy little heart of yours.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not my job to be having fun with you.”

“Ah, but it could be.”

“Just open your textbook, Oikawa-san.”

He pulled the book out of his bag, flipping it open on the desk but not bothering to look down at it.

“Come on. Seriously. I got a way better grade than usual on the pop quiz we got this week. I feel like I should thank you for everything you’re doing for me. What are you doing tomorrow?”

The truthful, sad answer was that you were doing nothing at all, actually. You had tried to make plans with your friends, but they were all “busy” with something or other. While it pained you deeply, Oikawa was right. You had no social life.

You sighed. “I’m not busy tomorrow.”

“Well, that settles it then. The guys and I have practice. You can come watch the end of it if you want, and then we’re all going out for dinner. You should come.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Oikawa’s face lit up in a way you hadn’t expected, and he smiled down at his textbook as he turned it to the relevant page.

“Good. Prove to us that you can have fun after all.”

“Watch it. You’ll remember it’s in your best interest to stay in my good graces.”

Oikawa just laughed at your threat like it was meaningless. He was right to do it. You hated to admit it, but even now he was starting to grow on you.

Oikawa started explaining what he was having trouble with, and just as you were really getting into your subject, you were interrupted by a shrill scream. You stiffened in immediate panic, swiveling in your chair to find the source of the sound. Oikawa, on the other hand, looked momentarily annoyed before pulling his Prince Charming façade into place.

“Oh my gosh!!! Tooru-kun is that you!”

You felt a wave of deep-set annoyance go through you at the girl’s tone of voice. Not only had she caused you to be genuinely alarmed, but she was clearly being way to familiar with Oikawa, unless he had a girlfriend you hadn’t heard about.

“Hey there!” Oikawa turned to face the girl headed towards you, an indulgent smile on his face.

“Oh my gosh! I saw your practice earlier and you were like, so good.” The girl gushed.

“Thank you. That’s very nice of you to say.” Oikawa seemed genuinely flattered at this, if you were so bold as to assume you could tell the difference between the fake him and the real him.

The girl giggled, stars in her eyes before they turned to you, darkening dramatically. “Oh, who is this? Is she like, your girlfriend or something?”

You didn’t like the turn the girl’s tone of voice had taken. There was something distinctly catty to the way she said the world ‘girlfriend’ that made your stomach turn. You had met plenty of mean girls in your life, and now alarm bells were going off in your head.

“No, no. Just my lovely tutor. She’s helping me out in my worst class. She’s very talented.”

Oikawa seemed to have picked up on the change in tone, shifting slightly to be in front of you. Presumably, this was to block you from the daggers the girl was glaring at you.

“Remind me your name, would you?” Oikawa’s smile had grown tense.

“Oh, my name is Miko! How could you forget?” She pouted elaborately.

“Silly me!” If at all possible, Oikawa’s megawatt smile grew brighter as he caught her attention again, drawing her in once more. “I remember now. How have you been, Miko-san?”

You smirked to yourself at the honorific, so different from how she had referred to him earlier.

“I’ve been great! Way better now that I get to catch up with you. I missed you!” She stuck out her lower lip like she was trying to catch something with it.

“Well, I hope to see you at my next game, once we’re back in season. Thanks so much for stopping by!”

Oikawa’s body turned towards the table, clearly indicating that the conversation was over. Miko didn’t get the message.

“What are you studying? Maybe I can join you. I’m pretty smart, you know.”

You had officially had enough. You stood from your place, glaring at the girl in a similar fashion to how she had looked at you earlier, but for very different reasons.

“Listen, Miko-chan,” you said, purposefully pitching your voice up into an imitation of her own calling for Oikawa. “I don’t know who you think you are, but this is a tutoring session. So unless you intend to pay me for my services, I really am going to need you to find somewhere else in this rather large library to study.”

The girl turned to you, and you expected some kind of temper tantrum, maybe a few crocodile tears before she walked away, but what you got was far worse. She smiled at you sickly sweet, planting a hand on your table and leaning in.

“Pay you for your services? Oh, so I guess you’re nothing more than a common who-”

Oikawa stood from his chair, the legs loudly scraping across the floor as he grabbed her arm. He turned her to face him harshly, and you would never forget the look on his face. You had seen the prince of Aoba Johsai wear many faces, most of them some version of the charming, charismatic boy you knew. You had never before seen the look of cold rage he wore now, grip firm on her forearm as he practically snarled at her.

“You’re not going to call her that. You’re not going to call anyone that ever. If I see you at one of my games, I will make sure you are promptly escorted out. Leave. Now.”

The girl stood still for a moment, frozen in terror, before turning on her heel and bolting as Oikawa released her. You blinked in shock a few times, unaware that your classmate was capable of such emotion, let alone such anger.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” you said quietly, the first words to cross your mind. “She’ll go around telling everyone you’re an awful person now. I wouldn’t be surprised if you got in trouble or if she started some kind of weird hate club.”

Oikawa scowled as he sat back down, mind clearly still elsewhere.

“I don’t care. People shouldn’t talk to you like that. Nothing about what she just did was okay. Whatever repercussions I face for that, so be it.”

You stared at him in surprise. Oikawa had come to your defense, at no personal gain to himself. Sure, anyone should have done that, but you never thought he would. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

“Hey.” You nudged his side gently, and he softened, looking down at you. “That invitation to your practice still open? I think I’d like to see you play. I hear you’re ‘so great’ or something.”

He smiled again at your gentle teasing. “Yeah. We’d love to have you.”

  As the months went on, you began to acknowledge that Oikawa was not what you had thought he was. Reluctant as you were to admit it, you considered him a friend now. As you had grown to know him better, it became obvious that everything you had thought about Oikawa before had been a mask he put up to impress people.

“If you keep poking me with that pencil, I will stab you in the eye with it,” you mumbled, not bothering to look up from your paper until a soft spring breeze floated through the library door as it opened.

“Iwa-chan! She’s being mean again!” Oikawa whined.

Iwaizume, ready to join your Friday study session, cast a lazy gaze over the both of you, assessing the situation in half a second.

He shrugged. “It looks like you deserved it.”

“I’m wounded, Iwa!” Oikawa threw an arm over his chest, falling back in his chair.

You rolled your eyes even as a smile tugged at your mouth. You had gotten used to Oikawa misbehaving. Some might go so far as to say you liked it. Some might even go so far as to say you liked him.

You would deny it if asked, of course. The way you blushed when he complimented you was the same as the way you blushed when anyone complimented you. The warm tingle left on your skin when he touched you was just because he was warm, infecting you with it, burning you alive. And the way you couldn’t breathe around him sometimes? Well, nobody could prove that.

Nobody could prove that Oikawa Tooru was your best friend, and nobody could prove that you were in love with your best friend.

Oikawa rested his head on your shoulder, and you wish you could say you had long learned how to ignore the jump of your heart, but you were only human. You still caught your breath, still felt an ache somewhere in your chest when he did it. It was the sort of feeling you got when you saw something in a shop window you couldn’t have but amplified by a million. It was so strong that sometimes you wanted to scream it out, wanted to stomp your feet and throw a fit like a kid in the grocery aisle because you wanted something you couldn’t have but oh, how you wanted it.

It consumed you some days, the way you wanted Oikawa. The way you wanted to peel back his layers, make him reveal that real self you caught glimpses of when he was with you. The soft boy who cried during sad movies, the brave boy who fought for you when you were sad, the silly boy who made faces just to get a rise out of you. It creeped like a sickness through your bones until you wanted to throw up, wanted to lay in bed all day in your sticky sweet misery and sob taffy tears, taste them on your tongue.

“Who are you going with to the spring dance?” Oikawa asked you, breath blowing against your neck in a way he couldn’t know sent shivers through you.

“I’m not going,” you said, returning to your textbook now that Iwaizume had established his presence.

Oikawa sat up, posture stiff with his indignance.

“Not going? How can you be not going? I know for a fact there are at least 5 boys planning to ask you.”

“They asked. I said no. I’m not going.”

“Why not? It will be fun!”

You grit your teeth, trying to ignore the nasty feeling in your gut. You couldn’t very well tell him that you didn’t want to go just to watch him dance with every member of his little fan club. You refused to explain how absolutely heartbreakingly awful it would be to go and watch him rotate through his carousel of girls, all of them beautiful, all of them wanting him, none of them you.

“I’m studying. You know, that thing smart people do when they want to pass their classes?”

Iwaizume snorted.

“I know what studying is.” Oikawa glared. “I thought you would want to come, though. I figured you would already have a dress picked out and a date and everything.”

For a guy trying to convince you to go to this thing, Oikawa sounded almost sad talking about it. He especially seemed rather melancholy at the prospect of your date. You wondered if maybe one of your potential dates was somebody Oikawa hated or something. Not that it mattered, since you had turned them all away.

“I don’t really want to go. These things aren’t really fun anyway. Besides, all the guys who asked me were jerks.”

“That’s true,” Iwaizume said. “Didn’t Itsuki ask you? That guy got in 4 fights just this week. Pretty sure I heard him in the bathroom bragging about…actually, never mind. Point is he’s a jerk.”

“Trust me, I know. They were all like that, too.” You groaned. “If one decent guy had asked me, maybe I would have gone, but apparently there’s something about me that draws in the Itsuki’s of the world. So, I’m not going. I’m just going to stay home and watch tacky movies and do homework.”

“Go with me.”

You froze at Oikawa’s offer. He couldn’t be serious. Didn’t he already have a date? Didn’t he already have girls lining up around the block to go to this stupid thing with him?

“Don’t you already have a date? I thought…” You trailed off, unsure what exactly you had thought.

“No. I…I heard the person I was planning to ask was rejecting everyone who asked her. Didn’t want to risk it.”

For whatever reason, Iwaizume rolled his eyes from where he sat across from you.

“Okay. Well…can’t you just go with one of your fangirls?”

You weren’t sure why exactly you were fighting this. This was what you had wanted, but not like this. You had wanted him to ask you because he liked you, not because he was too afraid to ask some other girl who was apparently too good for the student body population.

“I don’t want to go with them. I want to go with somebody I like.”

Oikawa’s soft brown eyes were too earnest staring into your face. You couldn’t say no to him when he looked at you like that, so open and vulnerable you could almost pretend it was a confession. It would have been terribly cruel of you to turn him down now.

You sighed. “I guess I have to buy a dress now.”

Oikawa smiled. “Yay! You don’t deserve to be cooped up all night in your room. I promise I’ll make this fun for you.”

“You’d better,” you teased. “I’ll tell you once I know the color of the dress. That way you can match your tie.”

“Perfect.”

If you closed your eyes and didn’t think about it too hard, you could almost pretend it was a real date.

 When the Friday night of the dance came, you really did almost believe it was a real date. Oikawa had told you he was going to pick you up, but he hadn’t told you that he was going to bring a corsage or charm the pants off your parents. He was acting like you were the girl he had wanted to take this whole time.

He opened your door for you before you got into the car, taking your hand to help you balance as you stepped into the car in your heels. You were dumbstruck when he reached over to buckle you in and make sure you were safe before heading over to the driver’s side. You tried frantically to control your breathing as he got the car started.

It was a short drive to the school, but the whole way there you could barely talk to him, trying to figure out his game. Was he doing this because he didn’t want you to feel like you were missing out? That had to be it. He was probably just trying to show you what a good date was like.

When you got to the school, he helped you out of the car, and you finally admitted it to yourself. When he escorted you in, despite everything, you sort of felt like a princess. Oikawa looked so dashing in his tux, his tie matching the shade of your dress, everything coming together perfectly for a moment before it came crashing down with the realization that you were not the person he had wanted to take to this thing.

In spite of that, though, he seemed intent to act like it. Oikawa’s fan club mobbed you as soon as you entered, but he ignored all of them entirely for once.

“Sorry ladies, but as you can see, I am escorting my date. Any other day you know you all have my attention, but I’m afraid tonight is all about us.” He flashed you a shy smile as he said it, cheeks turning pink on the word us. “Do you want to dance?”

“Uh….sure.”

He was being weird about this. You didn’t have much time to think about that though before he swung you out on the dance floor, swaying you to the beat of the music. The first few songs were fast, but eventually they played a slow song, and so you two danced a slow dance, Oikawa’s hands settled gently on your waist and yours around his neck. He had you pulled close though, enough so that his head curved over your shoulder and your ear pressed against his.

“So, I was thinking,” he said.

“Oh no. That’s always dangerous.” You laughed a little bit.

“Haha, very funny. But seriously, we’re graduating soon, and I…I don’t want to lose you.”

You couldn’t see his face with the position you were in, but you could hear the tenderness of his voice. Your heart ached with it even as he voiced the thought you had been having for a while now. You were coming to the close of your final year and you had wondered if, when you were no longer in school, you would have to face the reality of Oikawa no longer wanting to spend time with you.

“I don’t want to lose you either,” you said softly.

“Yeah but…” Oikawa released a shaky sigh. “I don’t know if that means the same thing to you.”

Oikawa pulled back, far enough to look you in the eyes. You were too astonished to protest, staring up at him with your mouth fallen open in surprise.

“I want something more. I know you’ve just barely accepted me as a friend and you hardly even tolerate me and I know I’m annoying and loud and brash and obnoxious. I know all of that, but I need you to know that you’re everything I’m not. You’re gentle and smart and careful and considerate and you were the one I wanted to take to this dance. You. Not anyone else. That’s all I have to say.” He laughed bitterly. “I guess that’s my confession. I don’t expect you to accept it.”

Before you could stop him, he let go of you, starting to retreat through the crowd of dancing bodies around you.

“Tooru!” You used his first name in your excitement, forgetting any need to pretend distance.

He stopped when he heard you, a look of desperate hope on his face. You grabbed his hand, pulling him back into you.

“I wanted to come to the dance with you too. You’re my best friend, but you’re so much more than that. I’m so stupidly in love with you, but I never thought that you would feel the same. I do accept your feelings. All of them. Even the big, loud, obnoxious, dramatic ones. I love them. I love all of it. So let’s not lose each other. I was thinking that after we graduate, I’m probably going to go to college, but I don’t know if you have plans to go pro with your volleyball, or maybe-”

You were cut off when he grabbed your face between his hands, crushing your lips to his. Right there, in front of everybody, Oikawa Tooru started making out with you in the middle of the dance floor. Nobody really noticed the two extra teenagers kissing on the dance floor, but you felt your heart soar.

“We can work all of that out later. For now, I just want to dance with you.”

“And kiss me?” You teased.

“Yes. I would very much like to keep kissing you.”

You laughed, leaning into his shoulder again. The song changed, picking up pace to something more upbeat, and you changed your dance style in accordance with it. You could see Iwaizume on the side of the dance floor looking at you two approvingly, and when you made eye contact, he gave you a thumbs up.

Later, you would have to worry about college and volleyball and everything else. Eventually, it would all work out in the end, though not without some troubles. That Friday though, you danced the night away with your best friend turned boyfriend, and finally admitted to yourself that Oikawa Tooru was the best.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Just A Taste

Characters: Spencer Reid x reader, minor characters

Word Count: 2,925

Warnings: talk of men abusing their female partners (very implicitly), smut, oral (female recieving), fingering, a bit of dom!spencer

request by @theitcaramelchick​: Okay but imagine Reid interrogating a suspect and you, an assistant at the BAU office, happen to hear how domineering he is with them and you get all hot and bothered? Jesus. 🥵 And the way he would make the suspect tell him stuff. ...Could you do a one shot with this?

Summary: You assist Spencer with an interrogation despite having no experience with it all. Turns out, there is a reason why Spencer chose you, and it’s not all for work.

Squares Filled: office sex for @cmkinkbingo // free space for @cmbingo​

Author’s Note: If you have any requests, please send them in! this is unbeta’d and every mistake is all on me.

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

For the first time in… ever… you’re going to assist the one and only Dr. Spencer Reid in an interrogation room with a real criminal. You’re only an office assistant, but they wanted you to be in there with him. You know nothing about how to talk to criminals or where to even begin, but they wouldn’t take no for an answer. You don’t even know what you would do in this interview, but you’re not going to question it. This is your chance to prove you belong with the rest of the BAU.

Your dream is to be a profiler that catches bad guys. If you can see how they think during this interrogation, then maybe you can start to work on your own profile. While you’re very nervous to be in this interrogation room, you’re more worried to be in that room with Spencer. It’s not that you’re worried for how bad you might be in front of him, you’re afraid he will figure out your feelings for him. He’s the most talked BAU agent on your floor. He’s so smart, innovated, talented, and very handsome.

His brown eyes can be so soft and caring, but can also turn hard and threatening in a moment’s notice. How he hasn’t landed himself a girlfriend yet is beyond you, but you’re glad he hasn’t. Him being available makes you less guilty for the thoughts you have about him. He’s tall, lean, has curly hair that you really want to tug, and he has a habit of biting and licking those damn lips. He’s definitely been the center of far too many fantasies you relive over and over again.

Your office is one floor below the BAU team. You’re best behind a computer, but you’re trying hard to prove yourself worthy enough to be a profiler. Because you’re great with a computer, your best friend is Penelope. When the team is away, you like to go to her office and hang with her when she’s not assisting her team. You use her to gather intel on the rest of the team, and you’ve learned the following details:

Rossi loves to drink. He has a very impressive collection of old alcohol that he doesn’t really use all that often, but always loves to show off. Hotch loves his son, and would do just about anything for him. One year, Jack dressed up as his father for Halloween. You thought that was the best thing ever. While Emily isn’t on the team anymore, Penlelope does talk about how brave and selfless she is. She’s saved the other teammates in more ways than one.

JJ has been through so much; not only as a mother but as an agent. She’s suffered the most, but she works the hardest. Derek is the muscle of the team, and Penelope has said some raunchy stuff that you’d rather not repeat. Last, but certainly not least, Spencer. He’s had a kind of serious girlfriend, Maeve, but she ended up dying right in front of him. He’s been through a lot as well, but he won’t ever give up on helping people. He’s really great with kids, and he is definitely husband material. Even Penelope is surprised how Spencer hasn’t settled down by now.

Fine by you, as long as you get a piece of him at some point.

It’s hard to put yourself out there for a man like him because if he somehow rejected you, then you won’t be able to recover from that. You don’t want to be one of those women who centers her world around some guy, but Spencer is just so special that you wouldn’t bounce back by a rejection from him. You’ve voiced your thoughts and opinions to Penelope, and as far as you know, she’s kept all those opinions to herself.

Now you have to work with the guy you are already nervous to be around. No one told you why they wanted you in there with him, but it’s not like you’re going to complain. You head up to the floor above you where Spencer is waiting for you. Once he sees you, he heads over to you. Your heart pounds just a bit faster, and your breath comes out a bit shakier. You try to keep your complexion the same color, but you know you’ve revealed how pink they are.

“Are you okay? Do you need a minute?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Your cheeks are flushed. Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I’m just a bit nervous. I’ve never done anything like this before. I don’t know why I’m even here,” you chuckle nervously.

“You’re going to be fine. I promise.”

“Why am I here, Spencer?”

“I asked for you.”

He leaves your side without another word, and you follow him to the interrogation room. The unsub they caught, Frank Bishop, sits inside the room silently. From what you’ve heard about this guy, he’s killed half a dozen men. The BAU doesn’t know where he’s buried them, and they have to get him to confess to their murders as well as their locations. You’ve seen some terrible people, but he is on your radar.

First and foremost, this man is accused of killing men who were physically and emotionally abusive towards their wives or girlfriends. He sees himself as some sort of God or savoir in the eyes of these women. Not that you agree with his method, but these women aren’t suffering anymore. You’re actually nervous to talk to a man like him because of the person you are.

Yes, you’re a submissive. Everyone who meets you knows this. You don’t broadcast it, but it’s all in the way you present yourself. You’re also showing signs of nervousness, you rarely say no to people in fear of what they would do to you if you did, and all your friends are dominants. They just embrace life and want you to do the same. You’ve done some stupid shit in your day because of them, but your life wouldn’t be what it is now if you didn’t have them in your life.

Spencer gives you one last look before entering the room. Frank’s head pops up, and he straightens when he sees you. He must have seen the way you’re presenting yourself because he can’t take his eyes off you.

“Don’t look at her, look at me. Tell me where you buried those five men,” Spencer demands.

Seeing him like this is putting you back into your late night fantasies. One thing you never considered is the way he is with hardened criminals. He can get so threatening that sends a heat sparking up your core. You push your thighs together to relieve some tension, and you cross your arms loosely.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. What five men?” he asks and smiles at you.

The way he smiles makes you nervous, and you begin to bounce your leg aimlessly. Frank likes how nervous you are, so you try to keep it under control.

"Don't waste my time here. Where are they?" Spencer asks again.

The man doesn't answer. All he does is stare at you. Your leg bounces faster so that's the only thing you can hear besides the ticking of the clock in the room.

"Stop bouncing your leg," Spencer demands.

He puts his hand on your thigh to stop you himself and that doesn't go unnoticed by Frank. You immediately stop what you're doing and look at Spencer with wide eyes. Once he knows you won't do it again, he takes his hand away.

You wish he hadn't.

"We know you stalked and killed men who abused their partners. They'd be somewhere where you can visit and continue their humiliation. You wouldn't want a proper burial for them, would you?"

"I didn't kill anyone else besides Jack Harmer."

"Yeah, that's because we caught you in the act. We know you did it. We found traces of your DNA in their houses."

"Doesn't mean I killed them."

The tension in the room thickens, and you feel trapped. You can't go anywhere, you haven't said a single word since you got here, and all Frank has done is stare at you. You'd leave, but you're afraid Spencer is just going to yell at you. You knew he wouldn't, but your anxiety doesn't know that. Because you feel trapped, you result in biting your nails. It's one of the things you do when you don't know what to do. However, as soon as you put your thumb between your teeth, Spencer swats your hand away.

"Don't bite your nails," he orders.

Why is he being like this? He is never this aggressive towards people—or that's what Penelope told you.

"Why don't you let her do what she wants?" Frank asks.

"Is that what you told Jason Hurley, Jared Bush, Harold Jenkins, Bailey Pickett, and Cody Campbell?"

"Who?" Frank smirks.

You shrink back into your seat because this interrogation can literally take a number of turns. Spencer looks at you with fire in his eyes, and you actually became scared at the thought of what he might do to you.

"Sit up straight. We're in a goddamn interrogation. If you can't handle that, then why are you even here?" he snaps.

Okay, you have no idea why he's treating you like this. Is it all for show, or does he really think he can boss you around like that? Of course, you're not going to say anything to him about it, but that doesn't mean you won't complain to Penny about this.

"Leave her alone! Who do you think you are treating her that way? Jason, Jared, and Harold all thought they could get away with treating their women like that. It's why I threw their bodies in the lake behind my house. Now, don't get me started on Bailey and Cody." Frank blew up.

He confessed to all five murders including revealing where their bodies were located. It wasn't long before you were able to leave. However, you didn't get very far because Spencer was pulling you into the nearest empty office.

"Look, I'm sorry for how I treated you there. Frank looked for men who "bossed" their partners around. I figured if I did that to you, he would reveal where he hid those bodies."

You knew Spencer was one of the good ones.

"You could have just told me. I would have played along."

"Your reaction needed to be real. I chose you because I know you're a submissive. I needed all of it to be real."

"How did you know that?"

"Besides how you acted today... Penelope told me."

"She what?"

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. Though, that's the other reason why I picked you."

"Which is?"

You meant to say that accusingly, but it came out in a breathy whisper.

"You're attracted to me. I need that attraction to be real," he reveals. You want to deny it, but your brain just isn't cooperating. So, he continues when he sees you wanting to deny it. "I knew it was true when you came up this morning. I asked you if you were okay because your cheeks were pink. They were like that because of me. I'm sure your heart started pumping as well. The next sign was in the interrogation room. You were rubbing your thighs together because of me. Should I continue?"

Goddamn, the man really knew how to sweet talk you. You could deny it, but what would the point be? He already knows your feelings. The other option is to come clean and hope he doesn't reject you.

"What are you going to do if what you said is true?” you wonder.

He takes three large steps toward you, and you, purely out of intimidation, take five much smaller steps back. Your back hits the wall next to the door, and you realize you trapped yourself. He places one hand on the wall next to yours and with the other, he locks the office. He leans down so that his mouth is right next to your ear.

"If it were true, I'd get down on my knees, yank that unbelievably tight skirt down your legs, and bury my tongue in you," he whispers.

Shit. Did he really just say that to you? Your panties are so wet right now, and it's all because of the man right in front of you.

"Hmm? Would you like that?" he asks as he tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear. You can't help but nod slightly. He's taken your ability to talk. "That's my girl."

You could have come right there, but you really want to know what his tongue feels like inside you. He presses his lips on your neck and gives a few kisses. He has you exactly where he wants you. You are his and he knows it.

"Remember, we are at work. Be a good girl and don't make a sound," he whispers before dropping to his knees.

Holy shit, this is exactly what you pictured in your fantasies. Now, you're getting the real thing. His hands grip your waist, digging his fingers into your skin. You know bruises are going to show up even through the couple layers of clothing. He gives you a questioning look as if to ask if this is alright. You just nod once, and he gets to work.

He slides down both your skirt and panties until they are on the floor. He keeps your heels on, and you make a mental note that he likes heels. He rests one leg over his shoulder, and he presses light kisses to your inner thighs. It didn't occur to you that you're exposing yourself to him for the first time. He has an eidetic memory. If this whole thing doesn't work out, he will have the look, taste, and feel of you embedded into his mind.

The smell of you messes with his mind, and he knows he has to get a taste of you. He gives one kiss to your clit, and you do your best to keep that moan in. Whenever you had sex, it’s always a challenge to stay quiet. You did it, but it always came at a cost. Spencer loves it when a girl moans for him, but not at work where his coworkers and bosses are.

Too much time has passed since he first got a whiff of you. Maybe he can take his time later, but for right now, all he wants is to make you come. From the bottom to the top, he licks one thick stripe up your center. When he sees you dripping with anticipation, he shoves his unbelievably long tongue inside you. You bite your lower lip to keep yourself from screaming out. Spencer looks up through his lashes and swipes his tongue from one wall to the other. The way he's looking at you makes you clench around his wet muscle. You have to get your tension out somehow.

There is finally an opportunity for you to satisfy one of your urges. You reach down and grab a fistful of his curly hair. You tug, and he moans. The vibration sends ripples through your body, and you give another hard tug. Your head bangs against the wall behind you, but you're too caught up in the moment to care.

He grunts when you give another yank. You file that piece of information in the same place as the heels. He pulls away only to suction his lips around your clit. He doesn't want you to feel empty, so he slides in two very long fingers.

“Shit! Spencer!” you hiss.

That response only makes him suck harder. You tighten around his fingers, making it almost impossible for him to remove them. He keeps his fingers right where they are and wiggles them so that he's hitting places not even you knew you had.

"I'm close! Fuck!"

Without going too hard, he nibbles on your clit with his teeth. The stimulation, combined with what his fingers are doing, is enough to push you over the edge. Your orgasm washes over you just as your come spills over his fingers. He pulls away and sticks them in his mouth. He sucks your juices from them before diving in once more. You're very sensitive from the first orgasm, so you twitch away from him. However, he grips your hips to hold you in place. He licks you clean until there is no more evidence lingering.

Once he finishes, he sets your leg down and redresses you. Your legs are wobbly, but you're doing a good job at keeping yourself up. He pushes your hair back to expose your ear, and he leans down to whisper in it.

"I never knew you tasted so sweet. I'm going to have a hard time focusing on work now that I got a taste. Be a good girl for the rest of the day, and I’ll show you what else I'm good for."

He presses a kiss to the side of your neck before leaving the office. Did that really just happen? How can you get through the rest of the day when you've experienced how well he can work his tongue? Plus, you also won't be able to stop thinking of his proposition. If he's that good with just his mouth. What else will he be good at?

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[sullustangin]

Not a disaster spy.

Note:�� I speak in lawful/neutral/chaotic alignments as seen in D&D.  I’m not getting into good, evil, or neutral, nor “Dark Side” or “Light Side” activities. 

There were more than a few reasons why I commissioned a piece of art that depicted some pretty gnarly scars on Theron Shan (and on my smug, Eva, but you don’t care as much about her, let’s be real). It’s part of a story I’m telling.  It’s part of my headcanon.  Also, it’s my own sort of protest against the habit of writing Theron off as a hot but inept spy.  He’s an impulsive fool despite being intelligent, which is why he ends up in bizarre situations. He always gets hurt because of this (but he’s always magically healed up in time for any smut). 

To be clear: Theron totally has issues due to his early life and an inability to play well with others; you can label him with attachment issues, intimacy issues, whatever keeps him a bit of a lonely character (which he admits).  Personal life -- disaster.  That’s canon, explicit and implicit.

What I object to are his skills and abilities being discounted because of that.  His professional life is far from being a disaster.  Director SIS Marcus Trant brands him as one of the best field agents, and long term, he ends up being operations manager for a covert base for an upstart independent government.

Reasons:

In the book Annihilation, Theron runs around in his boots and briefs trying to destroy the Ascendant Spear.   Hot, funny, and strangely effective.

But why?

Because Jace Malcom and Marcus Trant were ok with sacrificing a few planets of people “for the greater good.”  They let Ruan be attacked.  They planned on letting Duro be attacked, because they wanted the Pub fleet to focus on the Ascendant Spear, the Empire superweapon.  They watched a planet get wrecked and planned on doing it again.  It’s war.  It’s a lawful action, for the greater good.  It complies with society’s expectations -- the Republic leadership’s expectations -- in a time of war. Lawful neutral, probably.  Maybe lawful good if you squint and do the math about the Spear’s potential fatality rate, galaxy wide.

But Theron isn’t a lawful character -- he doesn’t just do stuff because society says it’s ok.  That’s why he goes off and does impulsive stuff because sometimes, society is wrong.  Theron is a neutral, leaning chaotic character -- he mostly follows the law, but also relies on his own intuition and gut feeling about what is right. Neutral characters balance what society says is right and what a person internally thinks is right.   Chaotic characters -- like my oc smuggler -- don’t rely on society’s views at all; it’s all about her gut and moral compass.  Theron at least considers lawfulness and order in his response, which is why he is (mostly) not a chaotic character.  He has his moments, though - no character is pure.  In contrast, Lana is a Lawful character in the context of the Sith Empire.  She does things that her society approves of.  She does like to think of herself as ‘her own woman’, but her behavior patterns are heavily informed by the Sith upbringing and training - she is Lawful but leaning Neutral on occasion due to her own sense of pragmatism.  She does not go by her gut alone. 

(Please remember I’m not addressing good/evil, Light/Dark side in this post.)

That’s why Theron ends up dehydrated with cramped leg and half naked.  He didn’t want people to die "for the greater good” when he personally could stop it.  So he and Gnost Dural fool Darth Karrid into participating at Duro, which means the Republic Fleet has to defend the planet, since its target is the Ascendant Spear.  The only way that happens is that Gnost-Dural is tortured, and Theron has to manually slice into the nearly uninhabitable bowels of the ship.  Hence the whole strip tease by the end of the incident.  

Consequences: 

In the example above, it’s mostly situational embarrassment for Theron, and the Jedi gets tortured. 

In an earlier part of the book, Theron is beaten up to keep his cover and acquire important information (and loses a few teeth in the process) and leaps off a building and probably fractures a few things -- he dislocated a shoulder too.  Still didn’t blow cover, and he is able get off Ziost with Gnost Dural. 

Every SWTOR player knows about Rishi -- it’s easy to argue that Theron doesn’t give up Lana because that could burn his Republic ally.  But if  you’re playing Imp side, what’s stopping him?  Flirting is nothing to this point.  Why not burn all the Imps down?  He could save his own skin, infiltrate the Revanites that way and save the Republic Fleet -- to hell with Darth Marr.

Because it’s not just “ooo rah Republic” informing his choices -it’s not Republic society saying it’s ok and lawful that makes him sit there.  It’s his own moral compass that says it’s wrong to burn Jakarro and the operative, even if Lana did give him up.  So he holds out under torture, even as Revan tries to make his descendant his ally. 

Theron had been in SIS for about 12-13 years by the time we get to Rishi.  We know he’s fallen from high heights and survived worse falls than leaping between buildings on Nar Shaddaa -- survived, not gotten out unscathed. He was a swoop racer for awhile -- that’s a risky hobby.  As an agent, It’s reasonable to assume he’s been shot at with blasters and possibly slugthrowers (if he came across a Mando), stabbed with traditional blades or vibro-blades, got burned if he was in an industrial area or a hot engine room or a chemical lab -- the list goes on.  After Yavin, we know that the one agent possibly more chaotic than he is, Jonas Balkar, ends up giving him a few broken ribs in the name of busting up an implants ring. 

So Theron does have very real consequences for his decisions, in all likelihood.  That’s what I wanted to reflect in the recent commission; although it happens shortly before the torture session on Rishi, it shows the viewer that this is a path he’s been on before, and not by accident. 

Cutting here because boy, did I have a lot to say about what happens AFTER SoR in terms of alignment/characterization.

The KotFE and Beyond: Consistency Issues

Theron registers his approval and disapproval on certain decisions in later xpacs, and he often takes the more benevolent “light side” end of things -- whether that’s based upon his societal expectations or personal moral compass is not as clear.  But he still does disagree with the Commander (one of the more obvious examples being  storming out of the room if there are too many Pub casualties on Corellia when the player is Imp side).  While it remains a touchy topic, the Traitor Arc does reflect his neutral-chaotic tendencies. He goes with his internal moral compass.

Electrocuting the Commander on Iokath was part of Theron gaining the Order of Zildrog’s trust. Theron’s smart enough and probably familiar enough with the Commander’s bio data to know how to make it happen and look bad enough without serious ill-effects. This is part of what he does as a spy, and there’s likely a guide on double agent sabotage somewhere in SIS -- how to look like you’re doing bad stuff without actually doing as bad stuff as requested.  This is also part of what he personally believes to be a better path -- certainly not by Alliance “what to do when bad things happen” book, which was to tell his Commander.   

Does Theron fail at Nathema?  Yes; there is a major loss of war materiel (the Gravestone and the Eternal Fleet).  But what would he have considered more important?  The loss of the fleet or the loss of the Commander and others if the Fleet was unleashed?  The loss of life or the loss of stuff? That’s where Theron’s neutral-chaotic alignment comes in. 

It also does matter how the player views the entire situation -- Theron’s boss also has a say in ‘success,’ which is why Trant matters in judging Theron’s previous actions. At the end of KotET, some people had been miserable that they HAD to either be a ruler or a peacekeeper instead of just getting on their ship and riding off into the sunset for more class-specific adventures. By the end of Nathema, some people were mad about losing the weapons and the power.  Some people were relieved that they weren’t so OP anymore; the writers had written story/character development into a corner, and ending the whole Throne/Fleet thing had to happen. (It’s still not fully out of a corner, in my personal opinion.)  

Theron doesn’t get out of the Traitor Arc completely clean, no matter how many stans we write about it -- the writing is what it is.  He assuredly gains a new scar.  But it is player choice as to the severity of the failure -- and the consequences: Theron can end up married, still in love with the Commander, dumped by the Commander but in the Alliance, exiled, or dead. Those were the consequences for what he believed was the right thing to do -- this was probably his biggest leap into the chaotic alignment in terms of decision making, and this was the most dramatic spectrum of consequences.

As a side bar, the latter xpacs suffer from writing issues; there’s a lack of nuance compared to the vanilla stories and even Hutts and SOR.  Although the writers did promise that characters would leave if there were enough negative actions, only Koth actually left because of something we did; Lana never leaves, and Theron leaves regardless of prior actions -- because he’s doing the  double agent thing. (I thought the opening speech on Umbara was ill-fit for most classes, frankly -- the writing got better as we got closer to Nathema, but there are plotholes that make me fume.)  Lana and Theron never leave because the player makes too many LS or DS decisions. I honestly wish that was a consequence, because not having a consequence for decisions hallows out both characters and makes them lackeys rather than the stronger, distinct characters they were prior to Popsicle Time. Lana never leaves no matter what. Theron ultimately remains gone by player decision, not by his own.  Koth was at least granted that autonomy, for which I respect the writing for Koth. 

Theron Shan is a good spy that accepts consequences.

Theron is good at his job -- the best at his job, around the time of SoR. Because of how Theron approaches the world, he takes risks so others don’t -- so others don’t get tortured, so other planets don’t get blown up.  It doesn’t mean that he’s some inept idiot that fumbles his way toward mission success. He  knowingly suffers for his choices that are a combination of by-the-book training and his instincts. He doesn’t complain about it, even when the player points it out on Rishi.  It is the job.  Spies do really, really strange stuff to keep their covers. He also doesn’t complain as he’s limping around after Nathema, nor does he object if he’s exiled or dumped.  He knows what he did.  He can live with it (if the player lets him). 

Spies that remain alive and get back to their home nations without giving anything important up to the enemy are successful spies.  We see this in pre-SWTOR media.  Rishi is a success for Theron -- although he is exposed, he remains alive and uncooperative.  The temporary Alliance between Marr and Satele gain massive amounts of intel, including Revan’s base on Yavin.  Later, Theron is able to keep the Odessen base functional and secret.  We even get to do some infiltration work on Zakuul -- the Alliance’s spies don’t give anything up while surviving and making it home with gains.  He succeeds overall at Odessen.  He fails at Nathema, though that failure is mostly interpreted by the player in terms of severity. 

Few spies are perfect and survive to become old men.  Even if Theron is killed at the end of Nathema, he did make it further than many; if we consider that Theron was about 37 or 38 at Nathema and he started SIS at 16, that’s upwards of 20 years in the field.  That’s a long lifespan for an active field agent, even in real world estimates. 

For those of us who let Theron live, then he still has potential for more spy escapades, though probably with some serious oversight.  We can leave that to headcanons, since Lana and Theron have taken a step back in prominence since Onslaught.  Theron will never be orderly like Lana; if you favor lawful characters, you will rarely see eye to eye with Theron.  He is not a by the book spy, and even Trant complains about that.  At the same time, the instinct, the skills, and personal conscience is there, which is why Theron is successful all the way up to Nathema -- and depending on the player, arguably still is. 

Personal life -- sure, a disaster. No doubt. But as a spy?  I don’t think disaster is an accurate assessment.

[cakelanguage]

Another gift I made for the Malec Secret Santa 2020, this time for yorit1 on AO3! It was my first time venturing into high school AUs, and it was actually quite fun. I hope you enjoy this goofy and fluffy high school au <3

You can also read this on AO3

--

Alexander Lightwood was different. He was nothing like his brother, Jace who was the star quarterback of the football team and a bit of an egomaniac at times. He wasn’t like his sister, Isabelle who was free-spirited and made a statement with her fashion choices and opinions.

No, Alec was quiet. He tried to take up as little space as possible no matter how much room he was given. Despite his towering stature he tended to hunch unconsciously. Like he was afraid he was always taking up too much room.

But he was stubborn and terse to the majority of people and doted on his family. He stood up for others and advocated for LGBTQ+ rights at school and outside it. He took in those who wormed their way into his heart with nary a thought but kept them away from knowing him besides the front he presented.

He was an array of contradictions that only made him more interesting in Magnus’ eyes.

And he stared. At Magnus. A lot.

Initially, Magnus hadn’t even noticed Alec’s gaze. He’d only realized it when Ragnor and Catarina had brought it to his attention.

“You’re being watched,” Catarina commented offhandedly, taking a bite of her salad.

Magnus smirked. “I’m always being watched,” he purred.

A groan echoed beside him. “I swear, if your head gets any bigger they’ll be no way to hide it,” Ragnor groused.

“I refuse to have this negativity within my eyesight.” Magnus made a shooing gesture. “Remove yourself at once.”

Catarina giggled at their banter before clearing her throat. “I’m being serious, though. You’ve been being watched by mister brooding over there.” She inconspicuously pointed to somewhere diagonally to them.

Not one to shy away from attention, Magnus whipped his head around to try and meet the gaze of his admirer. His eyebrows shot up when he met the gaze of Alexander Lightwood.

Alec seemed to have met his eyes too because his face reddened. The boy gave him a timid wave before ducking his head to gaze at his food, seeming to ignore the other occupants at his table.

Magnus would have continued looking at the bashful boy if his vision wasn’t suddenly obstructed. He squawked and turned a glower to Ragnor. “Are you really trying to cover my face up with a paper bag right now?”

His best friend grinned. “You were staring.”

“He was staring.”

“You wouldn’t have even noticed his staring if Cat hadn’t informed you.”

Conceivably, there was some truth to that. He wasn’t short on admirers so it didn’t surprise him that he hadn’t noticed one person’s attention.

He was curious to see how this would all play out.

It happened at a party.

A Magnus Bane party.

Magnus Bane had risen to popularity with these outlandish parties he threw while his father was away on his business trips. They were grand with drinks flowing in red solo cups and music blasting so loudly that they had the cops called on them more than once.

Magnus could easily party the night away. Immerse himself in the sweaty, hormonally charged throngs of his fellow student body. Ordinarily, he would.

But Alec actually came to this one and that wholly couldn’t be ignored.

The boy still hadn’t acted on what Magnus assumed was attraction to him. He merely continued to covertly admire Magnus from afar. The few times they’d talked, Magnus had reduced the boy to scrambled word-vomit. Alexander was bright red and Magnus was beyond flattered.

Here under the colored lights, the boy was a wallflower if he'd ever seen one. He stuck close to the wall and people watched with a dour expression. Magnus had seen people more excited about midterms than Alexander looked at one of his parties. And that wouldn't do at all.

Optimistically, this conversation would go better than their previous ones.

He saddled up to him with an extra cup of whatever brew Catarina had concocted and a charming smile. "Staying over here all by your lonesome, pretty boy?" Magnus inquired lightly.

Alec lurched beside him and looked at him bug-eyed. "What?" He asked.

"Well, you're denying the party-goers a fine specimen while you hunker to the shadows." Magnus couldn't tell if the boy was blushing with the colored lights gleaming across the room but his expression seemed flattered if not terribly shy.

It was adorable.

"I'm uh—My siblings wanted to come."

Magnus hummed thoughtfully and looked around the room until he spotted Alec's sister dancing amongst the crowd. "Ah, Izzy seems to be having a blast." He turned to Alec with a smirk. "I'm assuming Jace and Clary are making out somewhere around here."

Alec groaned and thumped his head against the wall. "I didn't even want to come." His eyes widened, and he jerked his head back to Magnus with his hands raised. "Not—Not that it isn't a great party because it is uh—everyone loves them and I—" he sighed and shrugged his shoulders, "Parties have never been my scene and it's just easier to stay on the sidelines."

"Perhaps," Magnus conceded, "or maybe you just need to keep trying." He handed the extra drink to him. "Start with something to drink. It'll do wonders to relax those tense shoulders of yours." And what gorgeously broad shoulders they were.

Alec shook his head and pushed the cup away. "Can't, I'm the designated driver."

Magnus arched a brow and poured the new drink into his original cup. "More for me, I suppose." He took a sip, ignoring the fire that licked his throat on the way down. "In the meantime, we might as well see if we can entice you into enjoying the party,” he set the cups down on a random table and held out his hand, “dance with me."

It wasn't a question and Alec recognized that but still, he shook his head. "Unless you want me to accidentally break your toes, I’m gonna… I'll just stay here."

"Pretty boy, I taught Ragnor how to dance." It'd been his own personal hell for half the summer but Ragnor had gotten significantly better at dancing enough so that he didn't look like he was suffering a seizure when the desire to dance struck him. "I'm sure I can teach you something."

Alec swallowed and looked around the room for anything that might help him. "I'm really not a good dancer," Alec insisted even as Magnus started to coax him from the wall. "I'll look stupid which means you'll look stupid."

Magnus waved him off. "Practically everyone looks silly when they dance, so you won't be alone there." He seized Alec’s hand and pulled him away from the wall. “Give it a try for five minutes, and we’ll see how it goes.”

Alec let himself be dragged to the dancefloor with consternation. “Five minutes and that’s it.”

This conversation was going lightyears better than their first few conversations. “If you want to stop, that is.”

He let go of Alec’s hand to grab ahold of Alec’s hips. “We’ll start with a sway, literally everyone can sway,” Magnus instructed as he started to sway his hips with Alec’s. He quickly directed their swaying to match the beat of the music. “See? Just gotta listen to the music; your body should pick up on the beat.”

A nervous laugh bubbled from somewhere in Alec’s throat as he bopped his head. “Yeah—okay, now what?”

“Arms, you don’t want to just flap them about.” You could knock someone out by accident if you did that. “Though if that’s your style, we can work with that.”

Alec raised his arms, shifting them side-to-side like muscled windshield wipers. “This?”

Magnus threw his head back and laughed. “God no, that’s—“ Magnus dissolved into another fit of giggles, waving a hand at Alec, “I’m not laughing at you, I promise. I just—I wasn’t expecting that.”

Alec scowled. “Then show me how to do it,” Alec commanded.

The scowl on the boy’s face resembled more of a pout than anything scary so Magnus figured the boy wasn’t too bothered by his laughter.

“You have to loosen up. You’re too tense!” Magnus ran his hands down Alec’s arms, relishing the shiver that ran through Alec’s body. “Relax your shoulders.”

“They are relaxed.”

He quirked an eyebrow and massaged at Alec’s shoulders feeling the tight muscles jump and release under his ministration. “Darling, I’ve seen assholes looser than your shoulders.”

Alec wheezed, his face twisting up, and squeezed his eyes shut. “That’s—why did you have to say it like that?” Alec groaned with a snort like he couldn’t decide whether to be upset or laugh at Magnus’ comment.

A Cheshire smile spread across his face. “I’m not wrong.”

Alec flushed, his eyes settling everywhere except Magnus’. “Well, I’m relaxed now.”

“Good, now just watch me for a moment.” He winked, biting his lower lip. “Try to keep your gaze virtuous.”

The laughter that tumbled out of Alec was beautiful and something he’d never heard before. His laughter echoed between them, somewhere caught between rough and warm. He’d never heard the boy laugh before.

But he wanted to hear it forever.

Magnus swayed his body, gyrating his hips and moving his hands up his body, letting them move with him. Lidded eyes gazed at Alec who’d stopped dancing altogether and was just staring at him with a familiar intensity.

“Feel free to admire me.”

Alec grinned and shook his head, already miles past his original comfort levels. “Thanks for the consent.” He crossed his arms and gave him a look. “You want a complete too? I feel like your fishing for one.”

“I very much am fishing for compliments,” Magnus said, “I’m just waiting for the hook to pick some up.”

“Normally people don’t admit to fishing for compliments.”

“Normal is subjective, Alexander.” He beckoned Alec over. “Now come join me, let that body talk.”

Alec shook his head again as he walked back over. “You’re so weird.” But his voice was husky belaying his real feelings on Magnus’ behavior. He clumsily joined Magnus and was soon following the beat more or less.

Magnus had thought this would be an innocent folly – just figuring the other boy out – but he found he was having fun. Alec's inexperience and awkwardness were endearing, and Magnus couldn’t turn his gaze away.

And he didn't want to.

He wasn't even sure what it was about Alec that drew him in. Magnus lived for partying, standing out, and being unashamedly himself. He wore glitter and sheer shirts that got him dress coded constantly.

Conversely, Alec was an introvert who orbited around the ones he loved. He'd started an archery club and followed all the school rules to an alarming degree. The only thing Magnus had thought stood out to him about Alec was that he was openly gay.

But just from his interactions with the boy tonight had revealed a hidden charm behind that stoic front. He had a laugh that made Magnus' heart skip a beat. His smile lit up the room way more than the assortment of lights did. He could dance only marginally better than Ragnor could now – which wasn’t saying much – but it made Magnus enjoy dancing with him all the more.

Just these observations made him wonder why he’d never noticed Alexander Lightwood before.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Alec interrupted, nudging him in the side.

Magnus shook his head from his previous thoughts. “My thoughts are worth plenty more than a penny,” Magnus sniffed.

Alec rolled his eyes. “Offer still stands.”

Magnus closed the distance between them. “You surprised me.”

“I surprised you?”

“Don’t sound so shocked.” Magnus put his arms around Alec’s neck and slowed their dancing down to a sweeping sway. “You’re more than I expected when I came over to you.”

Alec frowned. “More...?”

He shook his head. “I mean that in the best of ways,” Magnus reassured. “There’s just something about you, Alexander.”

Alec ducked his head down sheepishly. “There’s uh… something about you too.”

Magnus grinned, running his fingers through the short strands of hair at the back of Alec’s head. “Glad we’re on the same page about that.” He chanced a look around the room his eyes zeroing in on the clock before turning back to Alec who was finally looking at him again. “It’s been more than five minutes, still want me to leave?”

Hands grabbed at his hips as Alec leaned his head closer. “Please stay.”

Any quieter and Magnus would’ve missed Alec’s plea, but his grip on Magnus was telling enough. “Only if you’ll keep dancing with me.” Magnus gave Alec an exaggerated pout.

Alec snorted, shaking his head. “Stop being so cute.”

“Can’t, darling,” Magnus sighed, “it’s a curse.”

At this point, Magnus could feel Alec’s breath against his lips. With each moment his restraint grew smaller and smaller. He doubted Alec would gather the courage to mention his feelings. But he wasn’t going to wait for the other boy to make a move first. “Maybe this is the alcohol talking, but I really want to kiss you right now.”

Alec’s breath hitched, and for a second Magnus thought he’d ruined their moment until Alec let out a pleased sigh. “I – you uh… If I let you kiss me,” he paused to gather his thoughts, “You have to let me take you on a date.”

Magnus’ face lit up. “You wanna take me on a date?”

The tips of Alec’s ears practically glowed. “I’d like to.”

“I think,” Magnus drawled, twirling a piece of Alec’s hair, “that would be more than okay.”

The other boy’s mouth gaped and he seemed caught between awe and joy. Alec pressed their foreheads together. “So do I get that kiss now?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

Magnus bumps his nose against Alec’s. “How are you feeling about parties now?” Magnus inquired. He genuinely wanted to know if Alec’s opinion had changed.

Alec hummed thoughtfully before shrugging. “I won’t say I like them, but I got to spend time with you.” He brushed his lips against the corner of Magnus’ mouth. “So if you’re there, I can see the appeal.”

“Sweet talker.”

Magnus closed the distance between them. Alec’s lips were dry and deliciously warm against his. Just like his dancing, Alec’s kiss was inexperienced and their teeth clanked together before they got the right angle. Magnus led the kiss, coaxing Alec’s mouth to move with his own. It was hungry and sweet and profoundly earnest.

It was perfect.

Reluctantly Magnus pulled back to let them both breathe. Alec tried to chase his lips for a moment longer, eyes still closed as if he thought he’d open his eyes and Magnus would disappear.  Eventually, Alec did open his eyes, and quiet awe transformed his face.

“Would it be greedy to ask for another?” Alec asked between them, their lips still barely an inch apart.

“Terribly greedy,” Magnus chided with a grin, “But if you take me to that Thai place four blocks from the movie theater I’ll happily give you another.”

Alec laughed, their noses nudging against each other’s. “Promise?”

No answer was needed; his kiss was enough.

[mummybear]

You’ve Always Been My Girl

Words: 6526

Warnings: Soooo Much Smut, Smidgen Of Angst, Jealous Tommy ;) Getting Caught

Pairings: Thomas x Reader

Characters: Thomas, Reader, Newt, Gally, mentions of others.

A/N: Okay guys! Be gentle with me, this is my first ever Thomas fic and I’m still super nervous! This is in aid of Tomuary! Thank you to @writingsbychlo​ for coming up with this amazing idea that is Tomuary! Let’s celebrate! Please let me know what you think! Hope you enjoy!!

The glade had been your home now for what felt like forever. You didn’t remember your life before this place, so what were you really missing out on? In your opinion, there was nothing to miss out on. You had gained more from being here with these amazing people, than you ever would out there, with the morons that put you all in this place. You had a new family in the glade, people who you could count on, people who you would trust with your life. Just like any other family, you’d lost people, but you had all worked together to get through it. 

So a few months back when the new greenie had arrived, you’d thought nothing of it at all, it was just another brother to add to the ever growing family right? You had no idea just how wrong you’d been back then. Now though, Thomas was the bane of your existence.

If he wasn’t glaring at you, he was avoiding you totally and completely. If looks could kill you were sure you’d been dead by now. He’d tried to hide it, at least you’d assumed as much since every time you caught him, he had looked away. The trouble was, that he was terrible at doing it, since you weren’t the only one who had noticed the tension between the two of you. You weren’t sure what his problem was with you, but you were damn sure going to find out soon, you were beyond done with his shit, he had no right to do it, you hadn’t done a damn thing wrong. 

Being one of the only girls here was sometimes difficult, you and the other girls had hardly ever seen eye to eye on anything at all. They had mostly stuck together, they didn’t like the fact that you were close with Newt and Minho, being the only female runner you had spent a lot of time with the guys which didn’t go unnoticed.

But you just couldn’t work out why Thomas was only this way with you, seemingly he had no problems with anyone else, except maybe Gally, but they seemed to clash on a monumental level. Whenever you saw Thomas and he didn’t realise you were there, he was so happy, carefree, laughing and joking with Minho and your best friend Newt of all people. Not that you had a problem with it of course, Newt was adorable and kind as anything, people tended to love him, gravitate towards him. 

Letting out a quiet sigh you stared off into the distance, where you could just about see Thomas and Alby talking. You were so distracted wondering what the hell they could be talking about, that you didn’t hear Gally calling your name. Not until you received an elbow to the ribs. “What the fuck was that?” you asked him, levelling him with a glare. 

Eyebrows raised he held up his hands in defence, “Just try and pay bloody attention would you?” Gally huffed out in annoyance, knowing better by now than to push your buttons too much. 

“I was paying attention Gally, I’m sorry. I’m just totally knackered,” you sigh running your hands through your hair and down over your face.

Groaning to himself, Gally dismissed the others before turning back to you, and asked, “What’s up? Something’s got your knickers in a real twist lately. You’ve not been yourself for months” he sounds worried, which surprises you a bit, and you watch as he takes a seat, gesturing for you to do the same 

You know he’s right, you haven’t been yourself at all and you know why, even if you don’t want to admit it to yourself. But before you can speak a knock at the door interrupts you. 

“What is it?” Gally calls and the door cracks open, revealing Thomas and Newt. 

“Alby needs you,” Thomas says simply, focus completely on Gally as he speaks, his voice almost void of any emotion. You can almost feel him actively avoiding looking at you, as if you aren’t even there at all. You kind of get the urge to get up and punch him in the face, stupid perfect fucking face. You shake those thoughts from your mind as soon as they appear. You know just how dangerous those thoughts can be.

Newt walks into the room, taking the seat beside you and you can’t be sure,  but you swear you see Thomas stiffen as your best friend pulls you into a hug. 

“Newt talk to your girl. For the love of god, she’s driving me insane,” Gally grumbled under his breath as he quickly exits the room, practically slamming the door behind him as he leaves. Newt turns to you, giving you the cocked eyebrow the way he always does. It always goes along with the silent questioning he sends your way. If there’s one person here who knows you better than anyone, it’s him.

“What is it shortass?” Newt all but whispers, glancing over your shoulder you presume at Thomas, before his gaze falls back on you. 

You can’t help but crack a smile at the nickname, “You know what it is, who it is,” you reply in a hushed whisper. 

Over Newt’s shoulder, you meet Thomas’s eyes as he shifts closer you notice that he’s moved, you swear his eyes are darker, that gorgeous honey brown you pretended not to notice is almost black now. His posture has changed completely, he’s clenching his jaw hard, his arms are folded over his strong chest, so that you can see the muscles more clearly than ever. His foot kicked back against the wall, in what seems to look like an act to make him seem relaxed, when in actual fact has the opposite effect. The way that he’s looking at you, it makes you shiver and you’re not sure if it’s your nerves getting the better of you, your excitement about the fact he’s looking at you or if you’re slightly scared by it and what it means. Hell, maybe it’s all three of them.

You hadn’t realised you were still staring, not until Newt waved his hand in front of your face. Shaking yourself free of your daydream, you focus back on Newt, giving him an awkward yet sweet smile. Hoping that neither man had noticed you staring at Thomas. Newt took hold of your hand and tugged you off of your chair, until you were following behind him, “You and I need to blow off some steam. Have a chat and a drink or something, so, come on,” Newt grinned at you, in that cheeky way that had you laughing almost straight away. You don’t even have time to look back at Thomas before you were tugged from the room.

Newt marches you out by the fire pit, grabbing two glass mugs from the table. “What are you playing at?” you question him, trying not to let the seriousness seep into your voice. 

“Well, you haven’t been yourself lately. I think I can guess why. So, we’re not going to talk about it right now. Instead, we’re gonna have a good night, together. Take your mind off of things and we can talk in the morning,” he bargains with you, holding up his mug to you cocking his head to the side the side like a curious puppy as he waits for your answer. “Besides you’re a lightweight, won’t take long for you to pass out,” he grins and you shake your head at him with a smile that probably says it all.

“I like that. But you’re wrong about one thing, my dear sweet Newt. I can drink your lanky arse under the table any day of the week!” you giggle at the bemused look on his face as you clink your mug against his. 

“Cheers” you both call out happily, you take your seats away from a lot of people. Opting to sit somewhere a little quieter, on one of the logs further back from the fire. The two of you talk about everything and yet nothing. Before you know it you’ve gotten through more moon-shine or whatever the hell this stuff is, than you had in a long time. 

You’re feeling the effects of the alcohol at this point, the pair of you had abandoned the log completely. Instead the pair of you had chosen to lay on the floor, staring up at all of the stars in the sky. “I’m so hot right now I’m about to evaporate!” you huff out blowing the hair out of your face. Turning to Newt when you hear the snort of laughter.

The laughter stops as soon as it starts as Newt looks at you with a straight face, “I’m so sorry. I’ll catch you before you float away” he promises sounding a little serious which only serves to make you both burst out in laughter. 

“You are soooo drunk” you snort through your laughter again when his laughter subsides. “Maybe you should go say hi to her” you say discreetly, pointing at the girl who hadn’t stopped staring at him for the longest time. “She hasn’t stopped staring at you” you inform your best friend happily.

“Pffft, you’re drunk. I’m fine, besides she isn’t looking at me. Maybe she likes the tree, or you. Besides I’m looking after you, maybe another night” he tries to reason, you roll your eyes and shove his shoulder before turning to face him.

“Newt! You know I love you, you’re the best friend in the entire world. But I’ve got work I need to get on with in the map shack anyway. So go, I swear, if i need you I can come get you” you tell him as you stand, helping him to his feet. He’s looking at you like he doesn’t believe a word you say, in truth, you didn’t have a single scrap on work to do tonight. There was no way in hell that you were about to stop Newt having fun. Besides, you had a lot of thinking you needed to do, maybe have a talk with yourself about what was going on in your head lately. 

“You sure?” he asks sceptically when you sway slightly once you’re upright. 

“I promise you! Now bugger off and have fun” you grin pulling him into a hug, leaning up on your tiptoes as he squeezes you. “And thank you for everything, for being you” you smile happily. 

“See! So drunk” he grins jokingly as you wave him goodbye, heading over to the map shack. 

The torch was still glowing in the room when you closed the door behind you with a gentle click, which surprised you since it was empty when you walked inside. Taking a seat at the table, you pulled out the hidden bottle you had taped under it. Wincing as you took a sip. But as usual when you were alone your thoughts wouldn’t let you relax.

Your mind went straight back to him, back to Thomas and those stupid fucking moles, on his stupid perfect face. You would never admit it out loud but that man was something else, somehow he was like fire and ice at the same time. His laugh that you’d only heard from afar was still one of the amazing sounds in the world to you. The way that he seemed to laugh with his entire body was just fucking adorable. The way that his clothes seemed to be made for his body, it had you almost dribbling, his voice made you shiver to the point that you had to clamp your thighs together, you wished more than anything that he would use it to say a word to you. But the most you’d received from him, since his second week was a grunt in reply whenever you spoke, so you’d stopped trying months ago. 

Folding your arms on the table you drop your head down onto them, willing the ever present thoughts to leave you the hell alone. You don’t have long to dwell on it before the door clicks shut somewhere behind you. You flinch at the noise, forcing yourself to sit up in your seat and turn around, to your surprise you’re looking right at Thomas. 

You don’t even try and fight the glare that you’re sending him, unfortunately neither does he. “Can I help you!?” you sigh loudly, making sure he can hear you. Currently you’re trying to decide whether you want to throw the chair at him or throw yourself at him. 

So you decide not to bother with the chair at all, you stand instead and lean back against the table. “I’m surprised you could pry yourself away from Newt long enough to get yourself in here alone” he spat spitefully, stepping further into the room, more importantly closer to you.

“What the fuck is your problem exactly Thomas!?” you practically growl, sick of all of the pretence. You throw your hands in the air as you stand from the table, opting to start walking closer to him, maybe subconsciously. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Y/N, I don’t have a fucking problem” Thomas replies with a slight smirk, which only serves to make you angrier. 

You want to throw him through the window right now, then there’s that part of you that wants to throw him against the wall and…. No. Do not finish that thought, he’s done nothing but treat you like shit and ignore you. You scold yourself internally, realising you haven’t said anything. “Oh fucking hell he knows my name! No you’re right! You only have a problem with me. Sorry I should’ve been more specific! So come, what did I do to make you hate me so much?” you accuse him voice full of the anger you’ve been holding back all of this time.

“Of course I know your name! What are you talking about!? I don’t fucking hate you! I came in the other shack earlier to try and talk to you! But you were busy as usual, and of course you’re Newt’s girl, just like Gally said. Nobody else can even get close to talking to you” he fumes coming closer than he had been in ages. 

You swallow hard taking in the look on his face, you haven’t seen that look before and you can’t place it. But you do your best to stay strong, even though you’re unable to ignore the fact that your anger has faded quite a bit since he’d started talking. “He’s my best friend Thomas! That’s all Gally meant! Besides, it doesn’t mean you need to fucking glare at me constantly! Or that you can’t talk to me if you want to. Anyway it isn’t just me, everyone sees it, you don’t need to lie” you tell him truthfully, trying to hide the shake in your more annoyed than angry tone.

He rolls his eyes as he steps closer again you realise then that he almost has you back against the wall, there’s not much room between you either now. You can feel your nerves bubbling under the surface, “For fuck sake woman! I don’t hate you, not even close! It’s just… It’s just-” he practically growls slamming his hand on the table beside him. 

“What is it Thomas!! Because I can’t take much more of this bullshit. Are you Tired, Angry. Or are you just plainly and simply jealous?” You practically spit, his eyes snap to you the second the words leave your mouth, you don’t even know why the hell you said it, before you can take it back or apologise he steps impossibly closer. His are hands pressed to the wall either side of your head, boxing you in between his body and the wall behind you. “What are you doing?” you question nervously, voice shaking slightly as you look up at him trying not cough as you swallow the lump in your throat.

He looks down at you from where he’s standing over you, running his teeth over his bottom lip. “You’re right. I am jealous. Every damn time I see you and I think I can get close, you’re with someone else. Usually it’s Newt, I just can’t help but think the worst, just like I did today. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a great guy” he says quieter than before, but his voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it. There’s a pause as one of his hands cups your jaw, which as practically dropped open at this point. 

It doesn’t improve when he speaks again, neither do your weak knees. “But you should be my girl not his” he says calmly, as his thumb gently brushes your bottom lip.

You’re still in complete and utter shock, there is no way this is happening, you must’ve fallen asleep. It was the only answer that made any sense. But then he dips his head and presses a kiss to your lips, one that has your knees sure to fall out from under you. You suck in a breath as his soft perfect lips touch yours, his hand is firm against your jaw, as he pushes his body closer. 

When you whimper against his perfect mouth, he pulls back to look at you, you aren’t sure your voice will work but you have to try and ask. “T-This is some kind of bet right? O-Or something to prove to yourself right. Like that you can have whoever you want?” you stutter out, feeling your heart hammering in your chest, blood rushing in your ears, with eyes still locked on his, as he stares down at you can’t help but notice that he looks angry again.

But when he talks he sounds more frustrated than angry, “Why the fuck would I do that! You’re gorgeous, you’re funny” he takes your hand and rests it on his chest, right above his heart, you’re not sure if you’re even breathing right now. “Nobody can make my heart beat like this, make me, this angry, and this happy all at the same time. You’re fucking infuriating, your sexy, your feisty and I know you’ll call me on my shit. I know this is a lot, if you don’t want me, or any of this you just have to say t-” he tries but you can’t even let him finish the sentence, you wrap your hands in his t-shirt and pull him back down, roughly pressing your lips against his. 

It took him a moment to react but when he did his lips moved against yours perfectly, one hand still cupping your jaw the other moved to your hip, as he fought to hold you as close as possible. Meanwhile your hands remained gripping his shirt tightly. Thomas adjusts his hold slightly, slanting those perfect plump lips against yours, your tongues meet at the same time and you can’t stop the moan that slips past your lips. The slow firm drag of his tongue against yours was like a drug, you couldn’t get enough of him or the tight grip he had on you. 

When Thomas finally pulled away to breathe your lungs are screaming at you. But he doesn’t stop kissing you, the hand that was cupping your jaw moves to your hair. To your surprise and excitement he tugs harshly, pulling your head back making a burn blossom against your scalp. 

As he exposed the line of your neck, soft lips pressed against the bottom of your throat, then the tip of his tongue ran up the length of it, you’re still panting hard when he’s nipping at your chin. Then he pressed a chaste teasing kiss to your lips, you tried to chase his lips with your own but his hand tightened in your hair. “Fuck Thomas” you groaned when his lips, teeth and tongue worked their way down your neck.

“You know you’ve got a filthy mouth princess?” he asks hotly against your neck, the way he says that makes your shiver. 

You finally release his t-shirt, slowly dragging your hands down his chest and over his stomach, until you reached the edge of the tight fitting material. With a final hard suck against your neck and the dragging of his teeth, Thomas moved from your skin and pulled back to look at you. Just like that the nerves were back, but you tried to ignore them as you allowed your hands to push under his t-shirt. You move your eyes back to his as your shaking hands make contact with his soft warm skin, “You know, I can tell you’re holding back” you tell him in a hushed voice, as your hands reach the middle of his stomach, you can feel the ripple of the muscles beneath your hands. 

“Oh yeah? You can, can you pretty girl?” Thomas rasps huskily, jaw clenched and hands practically shaking.

You hum in agreement, locking your eyes with his as his shirt rides up his body with the movements of your hands. Removing his hands from your body Thomas helps you tug the t-shirt from his body. You can’t help but whimper at the sight, from his arms to his chest to his stomach he’s perfectly toned. 

You have to shake yourself a little before you trust your voice, “Y-Yeah, I think you’re the kind of guy who likes to take control. Who knows what he likes and what he doesn’t” you breathe out shakily as you pull your own t-shirt over your body. Hearing the deep growl that leaves his throat when you lock eyes on him again and toss the shirt away. “I just wanted you to know Tommy, that I want you, so fucking bad” you tell him as seductively as possible when you pop the button on your trousers, you’re sure his gaze darkens further somehow. You watch him biting on his plump bottom lip, looking at you like he’s about to tear you apart. “ So, I don’t want you to hold back, I want everything. I promise you won’t hurt me. I can take it” you tell him truthfully, swallowing your nerves as you drop your eyes to where your fingers have started tugging at his belt.

Thomas didn’t give you chance to react and suddenly he has your hands pinned above your head, one of his hands tight around your wrists. The very tip of his nose gently brushes along your jaw as he moves his lips to your ear, you can’t stop the shudder that rolls through your body as his breath ghosts over your skin. “Do you know how many times I wanted to get you alone. Wanted to make you mine, hear you moan my name” he practically purrs as his tongue flicked across your earlobe, shortly followed by the drag of his teeth.

You needed more, you needed him to touch you before you exploded. The fingers of his free hand were just barely grazing the skin of your stomach. Then you involuntarily gasped when his finger dipped into the waistband of your panties, pinging them back against the skin of your hip. “Please Thomas, please. I need you to touch me” you whimper, a needy noise leaving your throat as you push your hips from the wall, so that your back was arched away and his thick thigh drops between your legs and pushes you back. 

You roll your hips against him, needing some kind out friction to stem the ache of emptiness. “So fucking sexy princess” Thomas all but growls, finally letting his hand dip into your panties.  You’re happy he’s holding you up when his long fingers finally come into contact with your throbbing clit, because you aren’t even sure how or if your legs are even still holding you up. His movements are slow and precise, he’s watching your face as his fingers come into contact with your soaked center and you can’t help but whimper at the feeling. “Shit baby girl, you’re so wet. Is this all for me?” he asks knowingly easily slipping his middle finger inside you, his chest anchors yours to the wall. Breasts pressed tight against his strong chest as he slips in the second finger alongside the first. 

You can’t help but cry out in pleasure as he crooks his fingers just right, the hand that’s holding your wrists tightly, lets them go and clamps over your mouth. “You gotta keep it down baby, you don’t want everyone knowing right now, do you?” The question was clear in his voice, but then he shifted his hand in your pants. Pushing the heel of his hand against your clit, you moaned against his hand when his fingers picked up speed, breathing through your nose the best you could. 

“I don’t care anymore. Feels too good” you moaned against his hand, Thomas chuckled removing his hand away from your mouth. 

Thomas moves his free hand to your back, skilfully unhooking your bra with a simple pinch of his skilled fingers. You could feel the blush on your skin as the material slides down your arms and drops to the floor between you. “Shit, you’ve got the most perfect tits i’ve ever seen” he groans deep in his chest, he ducks his head to suck a nipple in his mouth as his finger continue to move inside you. 

You’re sweating and panting with need, teeth sunk into your bottom lip, right as you feel your orgasm approaching is when those long fingers repeated slam into your g-spot perfectly. You cling to his strong shoulders, forehead resting against his doing your best not to beg for release and scream his name.

Your thighs squeeze around his hand as everything gets more intense, your stomach is on fire and your head drops back against the wall. Thomas pulls from your nipple with a pop when he feels you fluttering around his fingers, “Gonna, oh fuck Tommy. I’m so close” you mumble incoherently, as his lips and tongue attached to your neck working the skin between his teeth.

“Come on princess, let go for me” he breathes against your neck his hardness pressing to your clothed thigh. You nod rapidly, gasping incoherent words, like his words somehow give you permission. As your nails dig into Thomas’ shoulders, the band in your stomach snaps and you can’t hold back the whimper at the intensity of it. You come hard, squeezing his fingers tight. Your body practically vibrating against him as he works you through it with his fingers and whispered praises against your skin. 

Your eyes flutter open as you lift your head up and you find his eyes immediately, you swallow hard breathing heavy still at the intense look in his eyes. Neither of you say a word as his hands move to push into your hair, then he’s pressing those plump lips to yours again. Claiming your mouth with his skilful tongue. It doesn’t take long for the kiss to heat up and intensify, to something needy and desperate. The way that he dominates the kiss is better than anything you could have ever expected, you don’t even realise he’s pulled your trousers down until you feel them hanging at your ankles.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders you don’t break the kiss as you kick away your trousers. Reaching for his belt, this time he doesn’t stop you, your small fingers inch the leather from its place, until it makes a gentle clang against his thigh. With shaking hands you manage to pop the button and pull down the zip. Pushing the material from his slim hips you can’t help but smile into the kiss as he awkwardly kicks them away, leaning into you and holding you close.

You can’t help but gasp when his thick leaking cock brushes against your thigh, so warm and the surprise that he’s totally naked is a welcome one. Pulling away from his lips you look into his dark eyes when he tries to kiss you again, you bite your lip effectively stopping him. Before he can speak you drop to your knees in front of him. “Fuck princess” he groans tangling his long fingers in your hair, keeping it away from your face as you wrap your small fingers around his length.

When he tugs gently you look up at him loving the way that his firm grip burns your scalp, you lick your lips, as you lean in close. Keeping your eyes on his, you watch him bite into his lip as your tongue flicks across his leaking slit, a small moan slips past your lips at the taste of him. 

Keeping your hands resting on his strong thighs you swirl your tongue around the swollen head of his impressive cock. When you wrap your lips around the head of his cock he lets out a choked moan, hips twitching a little pushing him further into your mouth. “Shit princess, so fucking good” 

You pull off of him with an obscene pop, licking your lips looking up at him with an innocent expression. “Want you to fuck my mouth Tommy, please” you all but beg, fidgeting where you sit as he adjusts his grip in your hair. Pulling it into a ponytail, he wraps the hair around his fist and tugs harshly. 

“Shit you’re so fucking sexy, you wanna choke on my cock baby?” he groans deep and throaty, making you whimper desperately. When his cock brushes your lips you open your mouth for him immediately. He tugs your hair harder forcing your head back a bit further, when he thrusts his cock into your mouth you moan around him, closing your lips and sucking, tongue moving with his movements. You can’t help but gag a little when he bumps the back of your throat, your hand drops between your legs, pushing past your panties as he continues to thrust his hips. 

You’re moaning around him when his cock starts thrusting harder, the pre-come leaking on your tongue. Your nails drag down his thighs when a particularly hard thrust of his hips, causes him to push right into your throat. 

He pulls you off of him fast, you can feel his thighs shaking under your hands. “Fuck me Tommy please, I need you so bad. Wanna feel your thick cock stretching my pussy” you cry out as your hips roll against your hand, you’re so fucking close again and the look on his face his enough to drive you crazy. His eyes are dark and predatory as he helps you to your feet and pushes you back against the wall. 

You suck in a breath as he leans in close wet cock brushing rock hard against your stomach. His lips continuously brush yours as he speaks, “You know how many times I’ve thought about you doing that?” he asks cupping your breasts with those long fingers, thumbs brushing across the nipples as his nose bumps yours. You shake your head not trusting your voice in the slightest, you swallow hard as he groans seemingly searching his memories. “Thought about it so many times baby, you on your knees for me, those perfect lips wrapped around my cock. I never thought you’d take me so good though” he says husky and entrancing, as his eyes roam your body, you watch those perfect white teeth sinking into his plump bottom lip. 

His cock rubs against your clothed pussy and your legs go so weak he has to catch you, he smiles as he kisses you slow and firm. Hooking his fingers into the sides of your underwear he pulls away from your lips. “You good princess?” he checks sweetly, tucking stray hairs behind your ear as your pants panties hit the floor. You kick them away with shaking legs and nod at him. “Need to hear you say it” he says gently, lips brushing across your jaw. Hands staying firmly on your hips.

“I’m okay, I want this, I promise. I’m just extremely turned on and nervous” you giggle which quickly turns into a moan when his fingers slips between your slick folds. 

“Any time you wanna stop, you tell me” he says gently, tipping your chin so you’re looking him in the eyes. 

“I will. But I won’t need to. I’ve thought about fucking you every day for the last few months” you tell him truthfully, feeling the grip he has on your hip tighten further. 

“You won’t need to just think about it now baby” he moans when you take hold of his cock, his fingers fall away. Gripping his own cock he slips it through your folds, “So fucking wet for my princess, can’t wait to feel your tight little pussy wrapped around my cock” Thomas groans pushing the head of his cock inside you, your hands grip onto his shoulders tightly, he tugs your leg up over his hip and holds it there. “Shit you’re so tight” he breathes out shakily, as continues to inch his way inside of you. 

Your foot digs into his firm ass as you try to pull him closer, you can’t help but scream of his name, followed by a few curse words when he pushes the last few inches in hard and fast. Nails digging into his skin harshly his hand clamps across your mouth, pressing a breathy kiss to the palm of his hand he removes it. “So deep Thomas, fucking hell” you whine as he helps you jump wrapping both legs around his hips. 

“At least people know who’s fucking girl you are now” he growls possessively, rocking his hips gently back and forth as you continue to cling to him, his hands grip your ass tightly fingers digging harshly into your skin. 

“Tommy, you don’t need to be jealous. I only want you” you breathed heavily against his mouth, gasping for air when he pulls almost all of the way out of you, then suddenly he pulls you towards him and thrust hard at the same time. He’s so fucking deep, as he picks up a slow deep rhythm you swear he’s hitting your fucking cervix every time. 

He buries his face in your neck, nipping at the skin, sucking marks into your skin. Your head drops back against the wall giving him more room, you jump in his hold as one of his hands pulls back and slaps your ass hard. “See, I think that you like it, now that you know I’m jealous” he grits out between thrusts, “You smile every fucking time you say it” he growls hips picking up speed as your pussy flutters around his thick cock.

“God I love your filthy mouth, gonna make me come Thomas. So close” you cry out as he pins you to the wall, his hips slamming into you roughly.

“Fuck come on princess, come all over my cock” he growls harshly, that’s all you need to send you spiralling into an orgasm that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head, Thomas keeps moving, fucking you through your orgasm until your shaking in his arms. 

Thomas barely lets you recover from your mind shattering orgasm, carefully he lowers your legs and pulls out, you shiver as his hands touch you. Carefully turning you so you’re facing the wall. You grip blindly for something to hold onto, Thomas hitches your leg up onto the small table beside you, groaning at the view in front of him. “Thomas please” you beg shamelessly, pushing your hips back.

“You’ve got it princess, just hold on” he warns you, his breath hard and shaky. Pulling your hips back he pushes easily back inside you, “I’m never gonna get tired of how good you feel wrapped around my cock” he groans words shooting straight to your core.

You lean back against him, head dropping back onto his shoulder as he fucks up into you harshly. “Kiss me Tommy” you whimper as his lips press harshly to yours, his teeth dragging over your bottom lip, you let out a whine into his mouth when his fingers brush your clit. You’re so sensitive you know it won’t take much more of the ruthless pounding to make you burst.

“So Fucking close baby girl, think you can come again for me” he moans against your lips when your pussy squeezes him tightly. 

“Yeah Tommy, just, uh-” you pant awkwardly grabbing his hand and holding it to your hair.

He grins against your neck, wrapping his fingers in your hair and tugs harshly, “Like it rough do you Y/N, my dirty little princess. You gonna fucking scream for me baby? Gonna let everyone know who’s fucking you good?” he questions hotly against your neck all you can do is moan in reply, you know you will. The way he says your name catches you off guard in the best way, your hands hang on to his arms when you can. “Fucking say it” he demands roughly, practically fucking you into the wall.

“F-Fuck Tommy, yes! I’m yours Thomas, all yours” you all but scream, your babbling the words over and over like a prayer as you come, you pull Thomas right over the edge with you. He slams his mouth over yours, groaning your name into your mouth as his comes, his tongue languidly stroking yours as his hips stutter with the final thrusts, he’s shooting his come inside you. 

Thomas wraps an arm around your middle as you stumble forwards both sets of hands slamming against the wall. You’re laughing giddily as his kisses tickle your neck. His cock slips out of you, making you whimper cutting your laugh off, “Nice catch hot stuff” you giggle again, which quickly turns into a scream when he drops back into a chair with you in his lap.

You turn awkwardly in his arms and straddle his waist, wrapping your arms around his neck. His arms wrap tightly around your waist, you sigh happily resting your head on his shoulder. Pressing soft kisses to his neck, finger tracing the moles on his skin.

“Hey is everything o-” you and Thomas both turn to the voice and Thomas almost falls off the chair when Newt walks in, in an effort to cover your body. “Okay! I’m sorry, have fun kids!” he laughs turning to leave immediately. 

You can’t help but burst out laughing, the look on Thomas’ face isn’t helping you at all. “I’m sorry it was funny! You wanted people to know, now they do” you try and defend still laughing. 

“Yeah except that, it’s not really helping with the jealousy, when another man sees you naked though babe” he groans as your lips brush his, rolling your hips against him. 

“You can always show me again Tommy” you murmur against his lips, the resounding growl coupled with the renewed grip on your hips is proof enough that he’s far from done with you. One thing was for sure, nobody would ever forget who’s girl you were again.

Tags: @lusyschwa​ @chewie-redbird​ @julzdec​ @lettersofwrittencollective​ @stiles-o-dylan24​ @mogaruke​ @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone​ @dylanholyhellobrien​ @desiree-0816​ @emichelle​ @lilulo-12​ @22sarah08​ @deanwanddamons​ @screamxqueenx94​ @brien-odylan​ @fox-in-a-mousetrap-8​ @riseandshinelittleblossom​ @ceceliaking-18​ @mrs-mitch-rapp93​ @yaya2503 

[miracleboiz]

Making a Home Ch. 16

Kita Shinsuke had experienced a lot in life. He had been raised with his grandmother, a loving foster parent and for some time he followed in her foot steps before finding his own path. He thought his foster care license had expired before getting a call at three am with two small boys thrust into his arms. Miya Osamu and Atsumu, from broken homes but still fighting. Thirty days before his license expires. Thirty days to make a choice, keep the boys or let them be separated into different homes. Thirty days to fall in love with them.

Words: 4k

Relationships: Gen

Warnings: Mention of past child abuse, non-graphic abuse

Not from Kita, but it is mentioned. I will post any warnings before any panic attacks or vague descriptions of abuse.

Read below or on AO3

This week is Rintaro, Hitoshi, and Akagi’s POV:

Suna Rintaro wasn’t the biggest fan of people. He didn’t really have a lot of experience with them as it was, and when he did they tended to just rub him the wrong way.

If he went with his parents to events he had to deal with countless adults asking if he was as smart as his parents, if he was going to be doctors like them, could he even read? If he said yes he was as smart as them, no he wasn’t going to be a doctor because they never seemed happy, and ‘I’m six not three, do you know how to read?’ Then he had to deal with two hours of admonishments about pride instead of leaving him alone.

On the other hand, the other kids at school felt like screaming babies. Rintaro already knew how to write his name in Katakana, Kanji, and Hiragana, and yet they just went over it every single day. The other kids were still scratching out the characters slowly as if they’d never read anything before and Rintaro was bored.

Not to mention how often he had to deal with laughter when he used bigger words and the teachers would ask if he actually knew what they meant. Why would he use it if he didn’t know what it meant?

Hitoshi, atleast, seemed to catch on quickly to what Rintaro was saying. He could actually talk and didn’t care if Rintaro said too many big words. Plus he didn’t seem to care if Rintaro wanted to drag him around town trying new things.

Hitoshi did have a strange crush on Matsukawa Shinji that Rintaro just couldn’t understand. Shinji was nice but… boring. Shigeru was much more interesting, he could not only keep up with Rintaro in class but also wouldn’t cry if Rintaro punched him. What more could someone want in a rival?

Overall, Rintaro didn’t like people and liked having a single friend and a single enemy and not having to worry about anything else.

Then he met the Miya twins.

He wasn’t sure about Atsumu, he seemed angry and Rintaro didn’t really think that was worth dealing with. He was nice enough when talking though, and he was nice to Hitoshi so Rintaro couldn’t write him off just yet. If he was good enough for Hitoshi to like then Rintaro could put up with some anger issues.

Osamu though, was interesting. He seemed quiet like Hitoshi at first, until Rintaro started poking and prodding with a few quick words about his brother. Instantly he’d started to puff up like an angry bird before Rintaro had added that they could be friends. The bewilderment in his eyes was well worth risking getting punched, in Rintaro’s opinion.

Osamu had settled a lot faster into ‘friendship’ then Rintaro had expected. Most of the other kids still wanted to punch him even after nine months of school, but Osamu genuinely seemed to want to be friends. Even after Rintaro had scared him by fighting with Shigeru.

Secretly, guilt rolled in his stomach about that. He still didn’t understand why Osamu had looked so shaken when Ito-sensei came over to yell at them, it wasn’t like adults didn’t yell all the time. Yet Osamu looked seconds away from tears even after lunch ended and he’d held onto his brother the entire way, only cheering up a little when Shinji started talking to him quietly.

“Hey… Don’t be mean to Osamu or Atsumu…” Rintaro was shaken from his thoughts by Shigeru’s voice, so much softer than he’d ever heard. His rival’s eyes were pointed directly at his brother, looking almost sad.

“Why the hell would-” Rintaro started, anger filling his chest. He wasn’t like his parents, he didn’t just bully people for being sad.

A hand smacked his chest, narrowly avoiding Hitoshi who squeaked quietly before trying to square his shoulders in case another fist fight broke out.

“I’m serious! He’s not like you, okay?” Shigeru hissed, finally turning to look at him. “He’s like me… He’s a foster kid, the other kids are going to find out soon and they’re gonna be mean, real mean. Remember my first week? Me and Shinji didn’t tell anyone but they found out and kept pickin’ on him until I punched ‘em. They’re gonna find out, and I don’t care how long we’ve been friends. If you bully them I’ll punch you too.”

Rintaro froze, glancing over at the two twins talking with Shinji and then back to the silver haired one who had him stuck in the middle of the hall. How long had he and Shigeru been friends? Were they seriously adopted?

After a second, Rintaro realized he was an idiot for not noticing sooner, but it wasn’t like he listened to the other kids and their gossip anyways.

“I’m not going to say anything… I don’t care about that.” Rintaro insisted, glaring back at Shigeru until the other kid finally dropped his hand. “Who cares if they’re adopted? Atleast that means their parents want them.”

“... Sorry, Rin.” Shigeru muttered, gently punching his shoulder with a half smile. Rintaro punched him back and the smile immediately brightened, seconds before an actual blow bounced off his arm and the silver haired rat took off.

Hitoshi immediately wrapped his arms around Rintaro’s left arm, keeping him from running after Shigeru.

“Why’dya always gotta fight with him?” Hitoshi whined, blinking up at him when Rintaro glowered at him. Hitoshi had long since learned that while Rintaro would fight Shigeru any day of the week, he wouldn’t hit anyone else. Which sucked, because now he didn’t care about putting himself between them and Rintaro couldn’t do anything.

“He punched me?” Rintaro whined right back, letting himself be dragged towards the classroom again. “Besides, he likes it.”

“.... Just… Don’t hurt him.” Hitoshi said, squeaking when Rintaro stopped and looked at him with a scrunched up face.

“Ew, don’t tell me you… like Shigeru? Atleast Shinji's pretty, Shigeru’s like… like… a ungly mean creampuff.” 

“Wha- No!” Hitoshi shook his head, looking embarrassed. “I just… Rin-kun… I… Papa hit mama and she left. And if Shigeru leaves then you’re going to be really upset and I’m going to be upset and then I’m going to cry and then Neesan will tell me to shut up and then you’re going to be angry and then I’m going to cry again and-”

“Hitoshi, breathe.” Rintaro reached forward in a panic, smooshing Hitoshi’s cheeks together and the smaller child sucked in a loud breath and let it out again. Directly into Rintaro’s face.

“Ewww, you’re gross… And you didn’t brush your teeth this morning. I can smell nachos from yesterday.” Rintaro pressed his cheeks again. “I won’t hurt Shigeru. Pinky promise.”

He held out his hand and Hitoshi watched him, face still red from his momentary panic before he nodded, reaching and curling their pinkies together.

“Hey! Slowpokes, are ya comin’?” Shigeru’s face came from the class, glancing up at the clock across the room. “You’re going to be late.”

“Don’t close the door!” Hitoshi and Rintaro yelled, running at the room as the bell rang.

“Hey, Osamu,” Rintaro said quietly, offering Shigeru the scissors.

They were separated into groups and Atsumu, Hitoshi, and Shinji had been banished to the other side of the room after Shinji and Shigeru had started to giggle together too loudly. Thankfully both Atsumu and Hitoshi seemed fine with it, beyond a few eyerolls from Atsumu. Rintaro was worried Atsumu or Osamu were going to start crying at being separated again but whatever Shinji had said to them after lunch had apparently helped.

“Mm?” Osamu looked up from his paper, a shredded piece of paper stuck to his cheek. His face was rather blank when his brother wasn’t around, which Rintaro found strangely comforting. Finally he wasn’t the only one with a ‘dead face’ as his mother called it.

“What’s it like bein’ wanted? Y’know by your parents? My parents don’t want me at all, but if you’re adopted, they chose ya right- Ow!” Rintaro spun to glower at Shigeru, whose foot was still against his leg. Shigeru’s face was scrunched up in anger as he glared back, opening his mouth probably to tell Rintaro off.

“I wouldn’t know.” Osamu said, and Rintaro turned back to see him staring at his paper. “No ones ever wanted me. Well, ‘cept ‘Tsumu.”

Rintaro froze, terrified to press for more. He thought Shigeru said Osamu was like him, which would mean that he was adopted right? Or were his parents like Rin’s?

Another kick to his knee was followed by a hissed “Say you’re sorry, jerk! He’s doesn’t have parents yet.”

“S-sorry… I thought you were adopted already.” Rintaro tried to explain, trying to fix the guilt that was crushing his chest. 

“Oh…” Osamu brightened a little at the new information before shaking his head. “No, no, Shinsuke-san is just fostering us, cuz no one wants us…. I do hope he decides to let us stay though… He’s a lot nicer than the other foster parents.”

Rintaro wasn’t sure what to say to that. Though… His parents probably wouldn’t notice a new kid in the house and he knew how to write their signatures…

“I really like Shinsuke-san,” Osamu continued, his voice soft as he glued together two shapes. “He’s really nice and I think he likes us too… And I like going to the shop, ‘cuz it’s pretty and it’s fun to make things with all the ribbons. And I don’t want to lose my friends again when I have to leave.”

Rintaro blinked twice at him before reaching over and hugging him as tightly as he could.

“If anyone tries to send you away, me ‘n Shigeru’ll fight ‘em and you can stay with us.” Rintaro promised. “Pinky promise… Or you can stay with Hitoshi-kun, his Okaasan is super super nice, you just have to watch out for his neesan because she likes to bully people who are shorter than her, but I’ll fight her for you and you can just hang out with his Okaasan.”

Shigeru collapses onto Osamu’s other side, squeezing him between his two new friends.

“And if she can’t take you, I’ll ask Tatay and you can be my new baby brother and Atsumu too and you can be Akira’s big brothers and he’ll hug you for hours and be grumpy about it.” Shigeru laughed, holding tighter and Osamu giggled.

Rintaro watched Osamu melt between them, trying to hug both of them at the same time while laughing. Three more shaped pieces of paper had been glued to his cheeks and a few shreds were on his fingers, transferring themselves to Rintaro. He couldn’t really bring himself to care.

He had two brand new friends now and he was going to protect them just like Hitoshi.

Hitoshi wasn’t a big fan of fighting. It had always scared him, even just watching cartoons on tv when he was a toddler would quickly send him into a crying fit. He remained the same through the first few months of school, crying at any minor argument between the other kids until the school bullies realized he was the easiest to pick on.

It continued until he heard them laughing at Rintaro for using ‘condescending’ towards their history teacher. In a flash of bravery he never saw coming, he’d spun around and told them to shut up.

“You’re dumb, and you’re condescending.” Hitoshi had shouted, bringing everything to a standstill as the awful realization washed over him that he’d yelled at someone who could hit him. He’d been sent to the office for the remainder of class and by the time he’d returned he’d found himself with his first school friend.

He didn’t mind only having one friend. Rintaro was always really nice to him and liked to teach him new words just like Hitoshi’s mom had done before she had to get a second job. He never left Hitoshi alone or ran off with other people and forgot about him and he even got his neesan to stop calling him a baby.

Hitoshi didn’t think Shigeru counted as his friend because he was always messing around with Rintaro but he was nice so Hitoshi didn’t mind it when he came over to play during recess or spent the classes talking with Rintaro. After all, Shigeru might decide Hitoshi was interesting too and then he’d have two friends.

He’d tried to become friends with Shinji, after all the Matsukawa brothers were known as the friendliest in the entire school and the least scary. However, twenty seconds into being handed a fresh muffin from a smiling Shinji for saying hello, Hitoshi had decided he would never talk to him again. The hot face and nervous stomach was not worth a muffin, even if he did think Shinji was very nice. Very very nice.

Rintaro thought his ‘crush’ was funny but Hitoshi honestly just wanted to give Shinji something cool back. Since he didn’t have anything as nice as a fresh muffin, Hitoshi was just going to never talk to Shinji again.

It was foolproof.

Until the new kid, who was also nice but didn’t have muffins, immediately started a conversation with Shinji with absolutely no hesitation or worry. Hitoshi didn’t know what he was more jealous of, the fact that the new kid could make friends so quickly or that he didn’t get super nervous just by looking at Shinji.

Now, he was squished between Shinji and Atsumu in the back corner of the room trying to glue together a bunch of paper shapes to make cards. Part of Hitoshi wondered if this was payback for every time he didn’t stop Rintaro from eating Shigeru’s lunch. 

The gods must have been laughing because as soon as Shinji sat down he was pulling out two slightly squashed cupcakes.

Internally Hitoshi swore he was going straight home today and giving the gods anything they wanted if they stopped torturing him. Instead of saying any of that, he just inclined his head gratefully to Shinji and shoved the cupcake in his mouth before the teacher noticed and told them to put it away.

Atsumu was carefully peeling his and nibbling at the rich pink and white frosting, a giant cat cut out from paper in front of him. Hitoshi took a moment to watch him, curious.

Everyone in school knew Shinji and Shigeru weren’t the Matsukawa’s real kids, but it wasn’t the same thing. They were already adopted, but the Miya twins were actual foster kids and Hitoshi had never met one of them before.

Atsumu didn’t look any different then the other kids, other than the black bruises down the side of his face but Hitoshi barely noticed them. His mom was really clumsy too and used to have bruises all the time too.

He was a little grumpier then Hitoshi thought especially since Shigeru and Shinji were always so happy. Then he thought about it. If he was taken away from his mom he’d be upset and angry too and Atsumu didn’t even have a mom or dad to go home too. 

“What’re you starin’ at me for?” Atsumu grumbled and Hitoshi jumped, squeaking out an apology and shrinking down when he was glared at.

“Atsumu,” Shinji intervened with the talent of someone used to keeping Shigeru from fighting other kids, “he was just looking at you. Hitoshi-kun doesn’t talk much, he was probably just trying to think of something to say… right Hitoshi-kun?”

The urge to run screaming to hide behind Rintaro built in his chest as Hitoshi nodded, trying not to look Shinji in the eye in case he turned into a tomato. That didn’t stop Shinji from smiling as widely as he could at him before turning to Atsumu.

“See? You don’t have to be mean to your friends, Atsumu… and yes, being grumpy at them is mean.” Shinji giggled, endlessly cheerful as Atsumu seemed to sulk slightly in his chair. Hitoshi couldn’t help but be fascinated by him.

He had been so nice at first even if he was really protective of his brother, and now he was grumpy again. Was it because Osamu was having fun without him? Hitoshi’s neesan always had fun without him so he didn’t really see the problem.

“Atsumu-kun,” Hitoshi started, only to squeak as a paper ball struck the back of his head.

Sniggers erupted behind him and Hitoshi sighed, shrinking down slightly. This was why he always tried to group up with Rintaro and Shigeru. No one was going to fight those two just to make him cry.

“Hitoshi-kun?” Atsumu looked confused at his squeak, head tilted almost completely to his shoulder. Shinji on the other hand, already had his eyes narrowed on the group of laughing kids behind them.

“It’s okay, really… Really Shinji-kun, it’s okay.” Hitoshi tried to insist without letting his voice pitch too high. Shinji glanced at him before sighing and offering him the glue stick.

“You know, you should just tell Shigeru,” Shinji said, silver eyes glowing with a surprising amount of hostility, “He’d take care of any bullies.”

“Shigeru-kun would get in trouble for it and it’s not worth getting in trouble for me. I can handle it-” Two more balls smacked against his back, tearing out a small shriek before Hitoshi clamped his hands over his mouth.

The sounds of two chairs being thrown back made the room go silent as both Atsumu and Shinji stood up. There was a moment of silence as everyone else tried to understand what was going on and Hitoshi had to wave his hand frantically to stop Rintaro and Shigeru from rising up.

“Atsumu-kun! Shinji-kun! What are you two doing? Sit back down.” The teacher called from the front, lips twisted in a frown. “Don’t make me have to call your parents, especially you Shinji-kun. You haven’t been listening at all today, its not like you.”

Slowly, they lowered themselves back into their seats. Shinji looked only a little annoyed but Atsumu looked genuinely upset and Hitoshi immediately scooted closer.

“It’s okay, really.” Hitoshi whispered over to him, trying to offer him a crayon. “I’m used to it, don’t get in trouble with the teacher.”

“I don’t care about the teacher, but Shinsuke-san…” Atsumu cut himself off, looking close to tears.

“Shinsuke-san?” Hitoshi prompted, glancing up when Shinji stood up and started making his way to the teacher.

“Shinsuke-san… is my… foster parent.” Atsumu looked away, voice getting softer and softer as if he was embarrassed by what he was saying.

“Is he… mean?” Hitoshi said after a moment of confusion. Atsumu looked up immediately, shaking his head panickedly.

“No! No, Shinsuke-san is really really nice… He’s… He’s the nicest parent I’ve ever had… but foster parents don’t like it when you get into trouble… they say you make them look bad and then they don’t want you anymore… and if… If we do really good then… Shinsuke-san might keep Osamu so… Osamu will have a dad.”

Hitoshi hesitated, trying to think it all over. How could a child make their parents look bad? His mother loved him no matter how bad Hitoshi did in school or if he got in trouble. She’d be upset but she always wanted him, always loved him. 

Suddenly Hitoshi felt terrible for anytime he’d thought about wanting parents like the other kids. At least he had his mom and she’d do anything for him. Osamu and Atsumu didn’t have anyone at all.

“What about you? Why don’t you get to be adopted?” Hitoshi forced the question out, certain he didn’t want to hear the answer. Atsumu looked confused at Hitoshi’s question, like he couldn’t understand why Hitoshi didn’t already know.

“No one wants me, Hitoshi-kun. I’m a bad kid. Kids like me… we just get kicked around until we’re adults then we take care of ourselves. Nobody willingly adopts trouble-makers. But Osamu is a good kid, he listens to all of his elders and eats his vegetables and he’s good at cleaning. He never talks too much and doesn’t trip and get hurt or make too much noise. If he gets adopted then he won’t have to leave, and he can be happy.” Atsumu didn’t seem to see anything wrong with what he said but Hitoshi felt sick.

His mother always told him that there was no such thing as a bad kid, just a misunderstood one. How could anyone tell Atsumu he was bad? He was nice, even if he was grumpy, he just wanted to protect his brother.

He opened his mouth, ready to tell Atsumu that he and his brother could move in when a pencil smacked against his cheek.

He yelped, immediately shielding his eye as his cheek twinged with pain. Atsumu was standing up again, hand closing around Hitoshi’s shirt like he was going to throw Hitoshi behind him.

“No, what about, what about Shinsuke-san?” Hitoshi squeaked and Atsumu froze. Guilt and panic flooded Atsumu’s eyes.

“Sensei, they’re…” Atsumu said, barely catching her attention from Shinji who immediately stopped talking, looking worried. “They’re throwing things at Hitoshi-kun.”

Atsumu seemed to be shaking even as the teacher glanced over at the other group of tables. She sighed, shaking her head at them.

“You and Shinji both today, stop it with the tattling.” The teacher sighed, shaking her head and pointing back at their table. “Finish your cards, I don’t want to hear anything else about this. They’re just paper balls.”

Atsumu looked as sick as Hitoshi felt, watching Shinji walk towards them with stiff shoulders. The sniggers were grating on Hitoshi’s ears as Shinji took his seat, all of their faces bright red after the teacher’s words.

“I’m sorry,” Hitoshi whimpered, tears already starting to leak out of his eyes.

“No, Hitoshi-kun. It’s not your fault.” Shinji reached out, trying to wipe them away but it did nothing to stop the stream. Instead he just hiccuped and sobbed, nodding his head. 

His new friend was getting in trouble because of him and Atsumu looked scared and it was Hitoshi’s fault. Hitoshi got him in trouble and he might get in trouble at home too. Hitoshi just messed up everything, every time, he couldn’t do anything right.

Atsumu reached over, trying to nudge his new friend to break him out of his panic when he hit someone else. He looked up to see the kid sitting behind them that had thrown the pencil. Already Atsumu wanted to smack him to get him away from Hitoshi.

“What are you two doing with this baby? I know your brother likes to hang out with them but I thought you were better than that Shinji-kun.” The other kid said, sneering down at Hitoshi’s choked sobs. “He’s just a baby, he shouldn’t even be in school.”

“Shut up.” Shinji snapped, turning to Hitoshi and dabbing at his eyes with his sleeve. “It’s okay Hitosh-kuni, don’t listen to him. It’s okay.”

“Seriously? He can’t even stop crying.” The kid looked disgusted, turning and shoving Hitoshi out of the chair. “Look he’s just a-”

Whatever he was, he didn’t get to share because Shinji launched himself out of his chair with a string of words that didn’t sound like Japanese. In seconds the other boy was on the ground, the full weight of the older student on him and holding him down.

Atsumu didn’t even think, moving to Hitoshi’s side and pulling him up to his feet before standing in front of him, arms out in case anyone else tried to hit him.

“Shinji! Atsumu! What are you two doing?” The teacher yelled and Atsumu’s heart sank.

Shinsuke was going to be so upset with him.

Akagi had known Kita Shinsuke since their first year of middle school. Since the moment the kid had taken the watch Akagi had stolen from the middle school bully and put it back in the bully’s bag and sat by passively as the teacher admonished the bully for lying about thieves.

“You shouldn’t have stolen it… But he shouldn’t have broken Yuna-chan’s nose.” Shinsuke had said and Akagi had refused to leave his side ever since.

He’d met Ojiro Aran on the first day of highschool with a spike to the face and he’d never made a friend faster.

He’d grown up with them and watched his team spread apart.

Akagi never worried for Aran. Aran knew where he was going and absolutely no one would ever stop him. Until he basically dropped off the map three years ago.

Sure, Akagi knew he was actually just in France and he was still playing at the top. Yet, even Akagi who spent his days travelling over the entire world freelance saw their friends more than he did. For three years Akagi only saw him once a year, still happy, still healthy, but so far away.

Oomimi, of course, was never someone anyone had to worry about. He was the only one Akagi knew should actually be trusted to be an adult, because even after having the title for ten years Akagi knew he wasn’t an adult. He’d chosen to become a social worker, helping children and trying to battle against the system to protect them.

He always left a key for Akagi and never minded a visit. He always checked up on Shinsuke and kept updates on Aran as best as he could between the man’s erratic texting skills.

Shinsuke, however, Shinsuke always worried Akagi.

Not because he wasn’t mature, no, no, he was the most emotionally aware and probably the strongest person Akagi had ever met. Sometimes, though, Shinsuke would get trapped in his own mind without realizing it. 

He always had his routines, the way he’d clean the bathrooms at exactly 2:58 until 3:13 then move to the locker rooms and change in precisely three minutes. He’d stretch for ten minutes, run four laps and stretch for another three. Then serves, then blocking, then receives. Everything was planned and ordered and any deviation would scratch at him like an itch until he either broke or fixed his schedule.

Shinsuke’d become more tolerant of mishaps in his routine as he got older, no longer completely breaking down when not able to finish something properly. He’d insisted that he learn how to handle it, refusing to lose even a second of his life to panic.

He was doing well, Akagi knew it. He adapted to the changing schedules of his employees, making his own routine in little things. Getting up, cleaning the house, visiting the shop, leaving for the gym, evening reading. The foster kids helped, keeping him on his toes and away from a routine set in stone while he still got to encourage and help them.

Shinsuke always loved kids after all, and he’d been so excited to take after not only his Grandmother but his late parents’ old wedding shop. Then he’d quit being assigned foster kids, not through any fault of his but there just wasn’t as many in their area and the government wasn’t in the habit of shipping kids across prefectures over and over again.

Shinsuke had fallen into old habits. Every part of his day was perfectly planned out, even to the point of letting him craft a ‘plan’ for the next few years that panicked him to deviate from. Though he adjusted better than Akagi thought he would with the twins, he could still see the way it picked at him not being able to follow his routine.

He could see it in the way Shinsuke twitched toward the door before he’d remember he had promised to show Osamu how to make pancakes. The way his breath would catch when he saw the time and would shift to look away. Even the constant tapping of his fingers gave him away, the itch that burrowed in his mind and was driving him subtly insane.

The adoration for the twins was holding back the worst of the reactions but Akagi knew Shinsuke would start to crack soon if he couldn’t get it out. If he didn’t face it head on and start adjusting his ‘plan’ accordingly.

Akagi knew his best friend far too well. He saw the way Shinsuke had grown too attached to the boys, his endless pride for each tiny step in the right direction, the way he shifted his routine to try and welcome them regardless of the internal consequences. Yet Shinsuke insisted he was going to let them go and find them a ‘proper’ home as if they couldn’t all see how much Shinsuke loved them. He would hold to that ‘plan’ until he was torn apart.

Which was why Akagi had harassed Tooru into helping him. Tooru hadn’t been the most willing, as loyal to their boss as everyone else in the shop but he also was the most stubborn. Once he heard about Shinsuke refusing to take a day off, he’d immediately jumped on board and promised to keep Shinsuke out of the shop. Then Akagi told a white lie to Oomimi and waited until he knew Shinsuke was going stir crazy after a too long set routine of constant mental and physical stimulation and told Oomimi to call him and ask him where he was.

Akagi hadn’t planned on Aran taking such advantage of the chance to hold Shinsuke, much less straight up hold his hand, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Even now, as he skated toward the rink wall, he could see them sitting together with Shinsuke’s head on his shoulder as they talked.

“If they find out you’re trying to set them up, you’ll be in trouble.” Oomimi hummed, offering him a water bottle. The tall social worker didn’t seem bothered by Akagi’s tricks, but he’d also known Akagi was going to try and shove Aran and Shinsuke together from the moment Aran was back in town.

“It’s okay, Oomimi-kun will protect me.” Akagi laughed, fluttering his eyes at the bored look in Oomimi’s eyes. “Besides, they’re so busy just starin’ at each other they wouldn’t notice if I stripped naked.”

Oomimi froze, eyes narrowed before he relaxed again when he realized Akagi meant it only as a joke.

“Why do you care anyways? You don’t even believe in romance.” Oomimi sighed, taking back the water bottle and putting it on the bench behind him. He glanced back at the two, watching their lips curve up in identical smiles neither party aware of it. Much more and Oomimi was going to have to interrupt to tell them to either kiss or stop looking at each other like that.

“I don’t not believe in romance,” Akagi said, flicking his hand dismissively, “I just think most people chase after it thinking it’s this great feeling. Then they give up as soon as it goes away. I find it shallow and honestly boring, makes me glad I don’t have to deal with it. But…”

His eyes traveled to the two talking, the light pink on Shinsuke’s cheeks and the laughter coming from Aran. In over fourteen years, he’d never seen them look at anyone else like they looked at each other. They just molded together perfectly, enhancing every moment and supporting each other endlessly. Theirs was the only romantic story that could ever make Akagi wonder what it would be like if he felt the same romantic feelings they did.

“They make each other happy. Even just being friends, they’re really happy. They know each other even after being apart, ‘Mimi. They know how to keep each other stable and they deserve to have that. They’re just both dumb. Aran’s stuck in his own world of ‘someone like Shinsuke could never love me, because I’m a big dumb gay baby’ and Shinsuke’s stuck in this world of ‘If I didn’t put it in the plan it’s not happening and I will fight the gods for my right to fuck up my own life.’ I love them so much.”

Oomimi snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Michinari. Stop bullying them.”

“Ren, make me.” Akagi stuck out his tongue and Oomimi rolled his eyes, reaching out to flick his nose.

“They’ll figure it out. You don’t have to push them together, they’re adults now.” Oomimi looked rather amused, leaning against the skating wall. “Trust me. Everything’s going to be just fine.”

“... You sound a little bit too certain of that.” Akagi narrowed his eyes at his best friend, gasping at the curve of his mouth moving up. “What did you do?”

“I don’t know what you mean… But I will tell you that you should buy a house if Shinsuke doesn’t decide to adopt the boys in two weeks because Aran still lives in an apartment and I’ve got so many paperwork packets that just need signatures.”

“So… If Shinsuke doesn’t adopt the boys… I get to adopt them.” Akagi gasped, amusement flooding through him as Oomimi seemed to immediately regret what he’d said.

“On the other hand, I can buy a house and just give it to Aran, it’s fine.”

“What! No, no I want the boys. Give me the twins, I pinky promise I’ll only teach them a few bad words.” Akagi whined, squawking when another voice cut in.

“You will not be teaching the boys any bad words.” Shinsuke was half wrapped around Aran’s arm, still slipping even on the rubber mats. He looked only mildly annoyed in the turn of his lips, his gaze bright with amusement and Akagi cackled softly.

Aran looked as soft as ever, easily carrying Shinsuke’s weight and looking at his two other friends. He still had a tinge of dark blush over his cheeks and Akagi had to admit he was cute, no wonder so many people had confessed to him senior year.

“Hey, Aran, marry me and we’ll steal Kita’s kids.” Akagi chirped, laughing even louder when Aran face palmed.

“I’m not marrying you to adopt the twins, I’ll just adopt them on my own.” Aran said, ignoring Akagi’s dramatic gasp.

“Don’t touch my kids… Don’t let him touch my kids. Osamu doesn’t need to know any bad words, he’d like them far too much.” Shinsuke said, looking at Oomimi before stepping towards the ice carefully.

Akagi held his breath, hoping to hear him squeak or yelp but he got nothing. How boring, his friends were so inconsiderate to not help him out and give him something to laugh at them for.

Aran held him carefully until he was sure Shinsuke wouldn’t fall, then stepped after him. Akagi yowled as an arm wrapped around his neck and tucked him into a firm chest, then he relaxed, sticking his tongue up at Aran.

“C’mon Ren. You can watch me fall.” Shinsuke teased, holding his hand out to Oomimi who sighed dramatically before skating over to Shinsuke’s side and taking his hand.

“If we go down, we’re taking them with us.” Oomimi told Shinsuke who nodded and tightened his hold on Aran.

“Oh I plan too.”

Aran’s complaint made them all laugh and Akagi relaxed into his friend's hold. Aran shook his head at Shinsuke, eyes gentle and adoring as he looked down at his best friend. Akagi took the first step forward, dragging them all forward. Oomimi was right, they would be just fine. All of them.