#i really think i'm incapable of answering asks like these briefly

[practically-an-x-man]

I'd love to see your take on trying to write Siv, if you're still open to prompts!

Sure! I'll see what I can put together! It's ~~emotional vulnerability time~~

____

"Who's this?" Hailey asked, flipping the faded Polaroid around to show Siv. They peered at it, then offered her a tilted half-smile.

"My best friend Jay. He, uh, he found that camera at a yard sale back in high school," they replied, "He was so proud of the fact that the film was the most expensive thing about fixing it up."

"Heh." she laughed, and inspected the picture a little longer, "You look so different."

Siv fought the urge to wince, but still found her fingers tracing over the barely-familiar planes of her own face.

"Yeah, they- uh, they had to reconstruct my face a few years back," she answered, her voice a little so flippant it felt forced, "Didn't get everything quite right."

She ducked her head, staring a hole straight through her laptop screen. They felt Hailey's eyes on them for a moment or two, but refused glance up or elaborate. After several long minutes, Hailey stood up and crossed the room. She slid onto the couch beside Siv, the overstuffed cushions sinking under her weight, and laid her arm across Siv's shoulders.

"My turn." she said, with a strangely intimate hesitance to her voice. Siv lifted their head to find a bright phone screen held out in front of them, and blinked uncomprehendingly at the photo for a moment.

"My friend somehow managed to dig this one up. From my military days."

A few things fell into place, namely the sight of the tall fatigue-clad figure in the center of the screen. Siv's eyebrows jumped up her forehead, but at the same time her heart kicked out a fluttering little beat.

Sharing that old Polaroid had been a bit of a secret - they generally fought hard to keep the past in the past, especially when it came to things like that. Hailey's photo was just as much of a secret. It was an act of trust. And that meant... something. Siv wasn't completely sure what that something was, but it felt valuable.

"Promise me you won't take what I'm about to say the wrong way."

Uncertainty danced briefly across Hailey's face, but she nodded.

"It is so unfair that you're so beautiful as a woman and were so hot as a dude," Siv said, "I mean, you know I'm not into masc types, but military-Hailey might have turned me. And I mean that in a good way. I think you're incapable of not being hot."

Hailey let out a brief laugh, more relief and affection than real humor, and her fingers walked their way lightly across Siv's shoulders. A tight knot unwound behind their ribs.

"But you still think I look better now?" Hailey asked, though it was light enough that Siv knew it wasn't really a test. She knew the answer. She just wanted to hear them say it out loud.

"I think you're a fucking goddess," she said, and ducked in to steal a brief but passionate kiss.

The past belonged in the past. Few things were worth tearing open old wounds.

But there was something nice about being able to share those glimpses with someone she loved.

[neetily]

Alex catches you

— ✧ warnings: recently established relationship, Masturbating — ✧ word count: 881

— ✧ A/N: reposting from my old account since i was asked to! formatting might be off, but it's still readable.

Alex doesn't bother knocking. He doesn't have to, seeing as you've already told him your door is always open for him, his steps light to try and hide his presence from you so that he can surprise you! Being in a new relationship and all his heart is full of giddy beats, slowly closing the front door in secrecy before hearing what appears to be... moaning? The door clicks to signal that it's fully shut, his ears instead burning with the sounds of your soft gasps and muffled moans just behind a wall. It's unmistakable what you're doing and for a moment he's frozen in place, hand still locked around the doorknob. Fuck, okay. There's really no way to know how to approach this, no set in stone protocol for how to carefully set about alerting you to his presence when you're busy making yourself feel good but he finds himself walking towards your door anyway, breaking a sweat when your sweet sounds steadily rise in volume. He stands there for a second, briefly debating on whether he should knock or not. Erection quickly growing the whinier you get and when he thinks he hears a mumbled version of his name drawn out with another moan he's convinced to enter, resolved in his thinking that there's no need to knock. Because after all, your door is always open to him.

He sort of stumbles in, immediately breathless from the sight of your fingers stuffed into your tiny cunt. It's not a sight that he hasn't seen before, but things are still new. Still fresh, and his chest is tight with adoration when he sees your blushed cheeks. His mouth left open to speak but he's simply incapable of speech as he watches embarrassment wash over you. Your voice soft and meek and sent right to his hard cock when you whisper his name again. God you're so pretty on the bed like that, your fingers gradually pulled from your wet cunt for him to admire. A deep groan sounding from his chest, eyes squeezed shut and fists clenched with need to do something, but he's so utterly in love that he's afraid of doing or saying the wrong thing, taking a deep breath before settling into his default. Cocky, knowing of how much you want him, standing tall to show off his tenting cock to try and soothe your worries. He likes it, he likes you, and more than anything right now he just wants you to feel safe and comfortable in his presence. Because for as cute as your big wide eyes and shaking legs are he wants you to know it's okay. There's nothing to be ashamed of, and if anything — it's his fault anyway. "Take yer pick baby, but I’m either joinin' or watchin'."

And the look of stark arousal on your face answer his question for him, but he waits until you give him the all clear before attempting anything. Reassuring you with praise of "Y'didn't have t'stop y'know? Think yer s'cute. I'm happy with either." Planting his feet in the ground to assure you that he won't move until you say so despite how painfully hard his cock is at your open legs. At the fast rise and fall of your chest, your plump wet lips that just beg him for a taste. No, despite it all he'd much rather hear you want him. Giving in to his instincts only when you nod a small "Please help me Lix..." Your rosy cheeks turning a shade darker at his eagerness to get closer, positioning himself right between your legs as his own blush appears. Your cute needy expression getting to him the closer he is now, the smell of your pretty cunt, the glistening slick on your fingers that he wants to wrap his greedy lips around. His cock trembling under your openness to receive him, legs spreading wider for him to wiggle between, back arched in an unspoken want for more. He loves you. Fuck he knows it's too early to say but he loves you, stomach filled with butterflies at your display of submission before him, at your asking for help from him. "W-What d'ya want?" He stutters, cursing under his breath from the lack of assertion he'd like you to rely on him for, but the anxiety filling his lungs easily dissipates when you smile up at him, tenderly stroking your thumb against his shoulder as you hold on.

"You. Inside, please."

How could he ever deny you when you plead so prettily for him? His bottoms off at record speed with his hand fisted tightly at the base of his cock to calm himself down. It's not your first time together, but really every time feels like the first time to him, cock seemingly harder than each previous first time, leaking fat drops of precum down to your already slicked up cunt, the hand that was buried into your hole sticky on his shoulders as you use him to leverage your bottom half up for his ease of access. He's so lucky, and he'll help you just like you asked the best way he knows how — by railing you so hard into your sheets that you'll be left begging for him to stop.

[piningpercussionist]

a shadowy figure walks into the corner of your vision. "Apologies for the late response. but.... you are correct, mortal, I am suggesting his stupidity may be of... unearthly origin. Of course, I could be wrong. he may just be particularly pathetic. I know many things. but on the grand scale of things. I'm quite lowly. now... 'Zetans'. as your particular language terms them. are a race of grey skinned extra-terrestrials. advanced far beyond yourselves. they began visiting Earth only relatively recently. (A wise choice, for any writhing thing or wraithful god that could bother them was either sleeping, imprisoned, dead, isolated, incapable of exerting influence, or simply nowhere near Earth by the period in your history which the Zetans began visitation.). as for that Blind Idiot... I refuse to speak anything close to his true Name, for Names have power. all you need to know is that he's asleep. and it is *fortunate* that he is. for if he woke up, all things would no longer be." Doc... shudders?

*Kim startles, quite harshly in fact, at the sudden appearance, whipping around with a hand clutched to her chest. She looks frightened, and confused- but just for a moment, until she's blinking out spots again and turning her eyes back to the ground. She rubs at them, irritated with herself, and still looking a little concerned about something.*

*Whatever it was, she does not voice it, shaking her head before briefly scowling at the floor. (What was that? Get a grip, Kim...) She focuses on his words as she calms herself, though she finds herself lagging a little behind- (Just what the hell is up with me today?) She's still managed to retain what he's said, at least.*

... You're alright, du-Doc... I mean, he is just really pathetic. But... I guess I won't write it off. Weirder shit has happened.

(How loaded are his parents again? I feel like if it's a legitimate "old money" kind of situation, it definitely stays on the list of possibilities... Rich people are always tied up in weird shit.)

*Reaching behind her, Kim picks her mug up off the counter, taking a long sip. When she's done, she holds it in her hands, staring down into it; she warms a hand with it before bringing it to one of her temples to rub soothing, warm circles..*

And wow, that's not super ominous or anything. That's nothing I'd have to worry about ever, right? I don't really think I need a new end of the world scenario to be concerned about right now; especially if it happens just because some dude happens to wake up.

(ooc: going to include it in the text of the post: this ask is again being answered as though an event yet to happen has happened, so there is a deliberate vagueness being used in parts of this response. I can elaborate on what happened here when the event has occurred, if desired!)

[yaminerua]

Struggled to get this one out but I'm glad I pushed on with it to get it done tonight instead of having to leave it to tomorrow;;

As always, prompts are by @a-literal-toaster-wtf

Day 11's prompt was Touch and I could not shake that little hand on the knee from Terrorform out of my mind for this one. And apparently Rimmer can't either.

Words: 2740

****

“It was all baloney wasn’t it?”

“What was?”

“All that hugging stuff back there. It was just a way of escaping, wasn’t it? I mean you didn't really feel that deep down I'm an OK sort of bloke; that I'm not such a bad old stick once you get to know me.  You didn't really mean any of that, did you?”

The others turned, briefly, to look at each other, a singular connected thought passing silently between them before they turned back and responded together, in cold, earth-shattering honesty: 

“No.”

Rimmer didn’t know what he’d expected. He didn’t know why or even how he could have ever expected anything else. Of course they hadn’t meant it. Why would they? Right before they’d all come waltzing back through the door suddenly singing his praises they had just been dragging him through the muck, reminding him in excruciating detail of all the little reasons he had good cause to hate himself – why they all surely hated him.

It was no surprise then that after all that sweet talk, all that nonsense about how great he was and how they actually liked him really, it had just been a means to an end, a little white lie to get them off that infernal psi-moon. He knew better than to believe any of it, to let himself fall for it for even a moment.

So why did it bother him so much?

Lying on his back on the lower bunk in the still quiet of the otherwise empty bunkroom, accompanied only by the endless background hum of the ship all around him, Rimmer heaved a heavy, tortured sigh.

He had been safely back on Red Dwarf for hours now, the terrifying ordeal of being tormented by a physical manifestation of his own mind far behind him and yet as he lay there quietly, trying fruitlessly to will his body into a state of blissful unconsciousness, he was being rudely, miserably reminded that he could never truly escape from any of it. His mind would follow him wherever he went.

He hadn’t said much of anything to anyone in the aftermath of breaking free from the planetoid’s gravity. Even though he had fully expected and even pre-emptively anticipated their answer, somehow hearing it delivered so matter-of-factly, as though it were blindingly obvious and there could be no other alternative answer, had rendered him utterly incapable of speech. He hadn’t even been able to summon the energy to fire back a retort. Instead he had dropped rather despondently into his seat in the cockpit and spent the rest of the journey back to Red Dwarf staring miserably into the middle distance, absently massaging his right knee and wishing fervently that he just hadn’t asked.

When they’d finally reached Red Dwarf he had taken off like a shot, stealing away to some quiet, deserted part of the ship far away from the others whereupon he had largely busied himself with pacing the empty corridors briskly trying to find anything that would work well as a distraction.

After a while of wandering aimlessly he had ultimately decided that in all honesty he was quite done being conscious for the time being and had wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bunk and fall asleep and put the whole mess behind him but that was easier said than done when you shared a bunk room with someone who had effectively just pulled the rug out from beneath your feet, who had lied brazenly to your face about giving a single solitary smeg about you, made you think foolishly for half a second that maybe for once there was someone on your side, in your corner, who cared about you, and then crushed that tiny burgeoning seed of hope underfoot before it could even have had so much as a tiny chance at taking root.

Maybe they should have just left him behind. He was at the mercy of his own inner demons even at the best of times so what difference did it really make if they had become something physically real and threatening?

He shook that thought vehemently out of his head. He was just being irrational now. Of course this was still better than that alternative. At least he was used to this, the constant waves of negativity and self-loathing, the swells of doubt and anxiety, the hopelessness coupled with a doomed determination to try to keep pushing on trying for a life that seemed to be against what the universe itself had in mind. He could continue to live with that, had already lived the entirety of his life with it up to this point. At least like this he was safe in the familiarity of it all.

One thing, however, was very, very new.

Hovering an aggravated hand over his right leg again for what felt like the billionth time that night, he lowered it down and rubbed vigorously, desperately, at a spot just above his knee, digging the nails of his fingers into the hologramatic fabric of his trousers, willing the memory of warmth and weight against it to fade, but as with every other attempt he’d made at it thus far, it made no difference whatsoever. No matter how frantically he scrubbed and clawed away at it, the ghosts of one single little moment of physical contact seemed to have burned themselves into the every particle of his being, indelible and utterly inescapable.

It had been such a bizarre experience, being in possession of a physical body again, solid and warm and human, after so long stuck as a hologram with all the limitations that usually entailed. It had filled him with such a deep sense of longing for something he had almost forgotten he’d missed. It had been so long since he had been able to indulge in even just the simple sensation of being able to press his hands against an object and have his digits connect with it instead of gliding eerily through like some sort of technological ghost.

Over the course of that whole gruelling experience he had found himself feeling acutely, excruciatingly aware of every last sensation down to the finest details, the chill of the air against his exposed skin, the tickle of warm oil trickling down his bare chest, the thrumming, pulsing rush of blood flowing through his veins and the relentless thudding of a heartbeat – his heartbeat – hammering away frantically behind his ribcage.

It had been almost too much after all this time, too real in a way that even his experiences on the holoship The Enlightenment hadn’t managed to be. There was a stark difference, he now knew, between two holograms composed of soft-light interacting and two real, solid, flesh and blood human beings doing the same and the latter was proving to be so much harder to shake from his brain.

Lister’s hand had been so warm…

Clenching his eyes shut, he shook his head furiously and let out an anguished groan, enraged at himself once again for failing to keep the memory from resurfacing. Why was he fixating on it so much? It had all been a smegging act, a false, empty gesture intended to help bolster a lie. Lister hadn’t meant anything with it. And yet…

“I’m just tryin’ to say that whatever happens here, I want you to know, I really care about you.”

Rimmer’s hand stilled where it was, resting tentatively over the place Lister had placed his, the memory blooming, unbidden, behind his closed eyelids again. If he had still had an actual heart in his artificially projected chest it would be racing.

He’d wanted him to mean it then, hadn’t he? In spite of everything else he knew that warned him not to, everything that told him this was nonsense and that he knew better, he’d still wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that at least from Lister maybe there was a chance for some small shred of truth to exist there.

Kryten and the Cat he hadn’t believed for a minute. Rimmer knew very well, after all, what they thought of him and largely felt the same about them in return but Lister was a little bit different. He couldn’t be quite as sure about him.

Even now as the scene played out in vivid detail in his mind he could picture the earnest look on Lister’s face, the warmth of his eyes and the unwavering steadiness of his stare. He could recall the way he’d held his gaze evenly as he’d lifted his hand and moved it carefully, deliberately, to settle it down upon Rimmer’s leg and leave it there, hot and heavy and real.

The mere memory alone sent an involuntary shudder rippling its way all the way down Rimmer’s hologramatic form, making him feel a little light-headed and dazed and more than just a little winded.

It made him feel peculiar, antsy in a strangely nervous way, his fingers twitching reflexively where they lay, throat suddenly tight and tense just as it had been then.

He hadn’t known what to do or how to respond. In that moment his whole body had felt as though it were on fire, as though something not entirely unlike a jolt of electricity had sparked through him like lightning from the point of contact, setting every nerve in his body ablaze.

His heart had been beating so hard it could have burst.

Rimmer swallowed thickly and tried not to think about it, tried to pretend the persistent tingling sensation over his thigh was simply that of his own hand resting there, that it wasn’t anything else. He tried to pretend that the fact it wasn’t working didn’t mean anything.

It was unfair. Why was this what his mind had decided to latch onto and remember? Why was that the physical memory his body chosen to retain? Couldn’t it at least have chosen to fixate on the handmaidens and their ministrations instead? Hell, even Kryten’s pathetically insincere attempt to mimic Lister would have been preferable to this, paradoxical as it sounds. Why did it have to be Lister and his stupid warm, soft, tenderly placed hand making him feel inexplicably confusing things?

Even now, hours after the fact, the mere thought of it still filled him with an insatiable, anxious energy to do… something. He didn’t even know what that something was but he wanted to do a lot of it, whatever it was. God, what was happening to him?

He opened his eyes and stared helplessly up at the empty bunk above him. He felt feverish, as though something was gumming up his lightbee and making him malfunction. He wondered, distantly, whether the psychological effects of having his mind projected out of him onto the planet’s surface had warped something somehow, given him the equivalent of some sort of hologramatic shock response. Maybe that explained some of the lingering unease, the weird fluttery nervousness that kept washing over him in waves, the aching tension in his chest as though something heavy was weighing down on it, attempting to crush it. He hoped if that was the case that it would pass soon. He wasn’t really sure what he would do if it didn’t.

The door to the bunk room slid suddenly open with a hiss and Rimmer hurriedly snapped his eyes shut and pretended to be asleep, tried to even out the pace of his breathing and relax his face enough to be convincing, inwardly cursing all the while that he hadn’t managed to actually drift off in time before Lister finally decided to turn in for the night himself.

He stayed stock still while he listened to the sounds of Lister moving around, the tell-tale rustle of leather as he slipped off his jacket and let it drop to the floor with a heavy thwump. The urge to snap at him to pick it up and deal with it properly was so powerful he almost had to bite his own tongue to keep from breaking the illusion of unconsciousness. Stupid Lister and his stupid sloppy habits and his stupid leather jacket and gloves and his stupid warm ha—

Smeg. Not again.

He clicked his tongue in frustration and then stiffened immediately in regret when he heard Lister pause, probably to look over at him, trying to gauge if he was awake or not. He absolutely did not want to have to talk to him right now, didn’t want to have to even look at him. The only words he’d said at all in the last several hours had been to brusquely and pointedly inform him and the others that he was going to bed early and did not wish to be disturbed. He didn’t want to change that now.

He held his breath as he waited for Lister to start moving again, not daring to risk cracking open an eye to take a peek.

Heavy footsteps approached and then stopped just shy of the ladder to the upper bunk and Rimmer wished to God that he had had some sort of duvet cover to shield him from view, feeling altogether far too exposed lying as he was without one. He wondered how obvious he looked, how tense and unnaturally rigid he appeared trying in vain to feign the illusion of sleep with Lister’s gaze surely scrutinising his every breath. He probably wasn’t fooling him for a minute.

“Rimmer?” Lister’s voice sounded out, tentative, wary. “You awake?”

He sounded like he wanted to talk, like he had something he wanted to say. Rimmer wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction, whatever it was. He pretended he hadn’t heard him, schooled his expression into remaining as neutral and blank as possible and waited for him to give up.

Whether he’d believed Rimmer was really asleep or had simply got the message that he was in no mood for conversation, Lister breathed a heavy, defeated sigh and made to climb up the ladder and if Rimmer hadn’t known better, hadn’t been well aware of the fact that Lister felt not a shred of remorse for lifting him up and then shooting him down earlier on, he would have almost thought he’d sounded a little apologetic, a little guilty.

Once he had safely clambered his way up and out of sight, Rimmer waited a good few moments more for Lister to get himself settled, listening closely until he heard his breathing even out and the first quiet little snores begin emanating from him before he finally opened his eyes and glowered furiously up at the underside of the bunk with such intensity his glare alone could have bored holes in the solid metal.

He envied how easily Lister could just drift off to sleep, as if it was as simple as flicking off a switch. That was all fine and well when you didn’t have a loud and obnoxious brain that wouldn’t shut itself up long enough to let you rest, let alone an infuriating leg that still wouldn’t let go of the sensation of one of the last somewhat meaningful physical touches it had ever felt and would ever feel again.

Unconsciously, the thumb of his hand stroked little circles across that same maddening little spot, tracing the edges of Lister’s invisible palm print, mapping it out in his mind, unwittingly committing it to more and more to memory as though he was carving its shape deep into his very skin.

He was going to have to get used to this, he realised begrudgingly, beginning to move at last into some reluctant form of acceptance. One way or another he would simply have to learn to adjust to it and live with it moving forwards, and hope that like most of his other distant memories of human touch it too would eventually fade on its own with time.

Maybe it was the emotional exhaustion of the day’s events finally catching up with him after everything, maybe it was something else, maybe he was just lonely and tired of the prospect of never touching – never being touched – again but as he let his tired eyes slide closed and felt his breathing begin to gradually match Lister’s, a distant, traitorous, yearning little part of him questioned quietly whether forgetting the warmth of Lister’s touch was actually something he wanted to forget at all.

His hand had been so warm…

[omniscientwreck]

Tell me about your special little guy and his philosophy :3

Thank you so much for asking I've literally been thinking about this all day! The special little guy in question is Xaryl and he's a Knowledge Domain cleric I play in a game with some mutuals (oops!all party this probably isn't gonna contain serious spoilers for Xaryl but it isn't all stuff that he's fully laid out in campaign so i'm putting it under a cut. Do with that what you will) (sorry there's a lot, I created my own hyperfixation when I created Xaryl and I'm incapable of speaking about him briefly)

So this question is in regards to the ideas expressed in this post about the Luxon and the part about the Luxon that always stood out to me is the questions of Identity and how does one Know themself.

So Xaryl is a reader and a philosopher. He was isolated from his family as a teenager and taken away from most peer interaction his age to go assume a role in the Den he didn't want or ask for. His anamnesis didn't go correctly and his memories of his previous life are fragmented and have plagued him his entire life. He's hidden himself away and acted purely out of self preservation for decades, as long as he'd been with the dens.

So Xaryl's thoughts are essentially this: we cannot know ourselves devoid of each other. People (humanoids) are social creatures, we form groups and alliances and forge collective identities on various scopes (for example, being a Communist, being a nurse, being a particular person's brother, being a part of a certain family) and those add to, and inform our identites.

Further, we have different identites to and around different people. Then the question becomes something more like: which version of me is real? is every version of me real? do I have one identity or do I have many? does my identity exist as mine or is it a way for others to interpret me?

So with the Luxon, it created the primordials and then they were lost to the darkness as they warred within themselves, and so it scattered itself, hoping that eventually life would be refined and those that were bound to its light would live and live again and teach it about itself. It went dormant after that, it doesn't talk, so Luxon worshippers are left to determine "who am I and why am I?" for a being that hasn't really had any contact with it's followers.

So like, through all of this, lonely lost little Xaryl determines, in the middle of 80 years of isolating himself for his safety, that our purpose, and the Luxon's in turn, is to be known and to know. He works his way around to community and love as the meanings of life, and things to aspire to (despite not having those things for much of his life) so the way he prays turns into becoming the Luxon's friend. For decades instead of like "praying" he told the Luxon stories about his life, he tried to send it sensations of flavour or the smell of rain on cobblestone, or the sound and feeling of music. And he fought with the Luxon in his mind and said things he regretted in anger. He formed this totally one sided (until very recently but that's game canon) friendship and relationship and identity based entirely on something that, if he didn't literally get clerical powers from it, he might think existed only in his mind. So what does that make him? Xaryl, friend of the Luxon? Does that make it his friend in return? Is the true answer to "Who am I?" contained in the viewpoint of a single person? Is it responsible for the things its followers have done in its absence and silence? Is that its identity? What about the other side of the world, where surely there must be beacons? Do the people there think the same things? Could the same being's beacons elicit two completely different and opposed schools of worship? Much to consider.

Sorry this isn't as coherent as I'd like it to be and also sorry it's so long but thaaaaaaank you for asking I had a very tiring work day and it's nice to just talk about my oc's :3

[thornstocutyouwith]

As the woman fell silent Xian squinted slightly, taking in the quiet before she started to again talk. Turning his gaze away briefly he listened to her go on. Expecting it to be a minute before he could get a word in edgewise. He didn't need to be told all of this, after all, he was the only parent the children were around. He knew they were his blood. That's why he was the one seeking to give them the best possible life he could, not their mother, who had run off and abandoned the family.

All in all, it seemed she was preaching to him as if he were some ignorant child for the most part. As if he did not understand these things. Perhaps even, that he was not already aware of these facts, or he was not doing those. That didn't also mean he could not find a mother for them, at the same time. The two could certainly work in tandem. Xian liked to think they were. Once Darla was finished he ducked his head a bit "Wow. Thanks for telling me that." He muttered with a hint of sarcasm, not afraid to let her know she was being a bit heavy on the tone of assumption she spoke to him with.

Xian then shrugs and shakes his head "But they are only children, right now. Too young to really be at fault for all of that. I'm their father, I know better. I can raise them to be good, conscious, aware adults, and also find them a mother, for my happiness, and theirs." Xian finally answered after a moment more of silence "That you seem to think that I'm incapable of doing both, or more, for either party is very presumptuous of you." Calm, he let the moment sit, then went on "That is why I asked for a date. Let's stop with the assuming, hm? I'm a father, seeking a mother for my children. Is not mutual to my seeking a woman to serve me and my children. Which I am not looking for a servant, if I were, I assure you, I could afford one with less contempt toward the idea."

As Darla spoke on about what she liked he listened closely, taking in her words. Letting her say her peace still he stood quietly as she spoke. Xian then gave a nod "Okay. I will meet you there, tonight. After my children have gone to bed." He confirmed. Already considering the wine he could bring. Turning then he decided to leave before more was said by either of them that would continue to make them misunderstand one another.

Maybe it was better, Darius and Darla not knowing each other as well as they probably should. Everything happened for a reason, after all.As Xian asked her, rather rhetorically, if she would like to hear about all his problems, she had remained silent - knowing quite well that she had indeed talked too much.

"The thing is, your children will always be blood. But, eventually, they will move on to raise their own families and all you can do is hope you were a decent enough father to set them on the right path. In the mean time, you shouldn’t lose focus on yourself and your own happiness either. And if you have done your job right, your children will want you just as happy as your attentiveness to their well-being has allowed them to be”

Without saying the words out loud, she had hoped that Xian would find exactly who and what he was looking for. Though it was strange to her, at that moment, as he asked her if she was free and where she wanted to go eat, she had felt a stirring in the pit of her stomach.

— the intention of promised company, had made her realize, just for a moment, how lonely she was and how this strange and somewhat awkward meeting had her appreciating the fact she had run into him in the first place. “— I like a home cooked meal, but I have something in mind for the two of us. There is a hill I passed on the way here that seems to overlook city and I bet you, it is a wonderful view at night. Why don’t you meet me there, after the children have gone to bed. I’ll bring the food, and you can bring the wine.”

[fytheuntamed]

How much of the novel do you think was Mxtx's actual outline for the story, how much was to keep the audience engaged, and how much was the request of her readers? I'd say most of the explicit romance stuff was to keep the audience. Whenever wangxian need to be physically intimate alchol was involved because she knew the ml would never do those things on their own and she needed a excuse to write it. Which imo is bad writing if you can't get the ml in your romance to be intimate without alchol.

Well there’s certainly a lot to unpack here, anon, but I’m afraid my ability to respond is quite hampered by a few things: I’ve only read a portion of the MDZS novel and I haven’t read any of MXTX’s other novels, MXTX’s initial intended audience was readers in China (which I am not), and I don’t know MXTX, so I can only guess at her intentions. That being said, I will share a few of my thoughts on the matters mentioned in your ask.

I think that with any story that is heavily plot driven, as opposed to a more slice-of-life story, the author has to have a fairly well thought out outline for the story before they begin writing, or at least before they begin publishing. Absent this, it’s inevitable that the story will become full of plot holes and loose ends. While the plot aspect of the novel may not be perfect (plot holes that exist in the drama don’t necessarily exist in the novel), the most common complaints I’ve heard about it weren’t plot related, leading me to believe the plot of the novel must be fairly cohesive. Reading your ask, though, I get the impression that what you’re asking about isn’t the plot plot, but rather the dynamic between lwj and wwx. Did MXTX make wangxian a couple to boost readership? Again, I don’t know MXTX, so I have no real way of knowing what her intentions were. That being said, I’m leaning towards no. My guess is MXTX just wanted to write a story where two guys are in love, and it probably wasn’t for any deep reason other than that she wanted to. I won’t get into the reasons why, as that would be a whole other post, but lots of girls really like writing mlm stories.

I want to stress again that I don’t know how the platform on which MXTX published the novel works, therefore I don’t know what level of communication existed between MXTX and her fans on said platform.

As for the physical intimacy between wangxian, again, I don’t think she wrote it just because she wanted to please the fans, but rather I think she probably wrote it because she herself wanted these scenes to exist. Was she also aware that readers were hoping for such scenes? Of course! (Assuming she read fan comments). I think it’s very standard practice in many countries, regardless of the medium, to include one (or multiple) scenes in which the main couple have their first time together. If you’ve properly written and developed the relationship between the couple, depicting them being intimate in this way with one another should be quite gratifying to readers. Now I don’t mean this in a, “if they haven’t boned, they aren’t really in love” way. I simply mean that such scenes can be used to show a deepening of the couple’s bond, which for readers who are invested in said bond, is really nice to be able to witness.

as far as novel!wangxian are with physical intimacy, i think their novel dynamic does rely more heavily on some classic tropes that didn’t make it into the drama because of censorship. Things like lwj’s possessiveness and jealousy that existed far more heavily in the novel couldn’t make it into the drama, as these were deemed to be too obviously non-platonic to make the cut. I think MXTX wrote lwj throughout the story as a man who is very repressed due to his upbringing, so I honestly don’t think it’s too surprising that she made him drunk during such intimate scenes. Putting aside whether it’s good writing or not, as that’s a can of discourse I don’t particularly want to get into right now, I don’t think it’s that lwj wouldn’t want to do such things with wwx while sober, but rather that he wouldn’t allow himself to do such things while sober (at least initially when he isn’t sure of wwx’s feelings for him). So in this case I don’t think it’s a case of bad writing in terms of inconsistency of characterization, as one could easily understand why someone like lwj would be hesitant to act in such a manner while sober. It would be one thing if lwj had been raised in a clan that was all, “follow your heart and your dick, go be free,” and still needed to be drunk to get intimate, but that just isn’t the case here. again, i’m not getting into any of the discourse surrounding their intimate scenes because i think i’ve already touched upon the matter in a previous post and said what i wanted to say on the matter.

in conclusion, because this post has gotten far too long: i don’t know MXTX - none of us do - so we can only guess at her intentions. i don’t know how large or small a role her Chinese fans played in shaping the story, but my guess would be MXTX wrote the story as she wanted to, not as her fans may or may not have wanted her to. i also want to say that because wangxian’s relationship is the backbone of the story, i don’t think it’s something she could have slapped together haphazardly in the middle of the story. their love story is so interwoven with the plot that i would be very surprised if MXTX revealed their relationship was simply an afterthought or the wishes of the fans. finally, in my opinion, novel!wangxian’s intimate scenes, putting matters of consent aside, do appear consistent with MXTX’s characterization of lwj as someone who is both possessive and repressed. whether fans prefer this characterization of lwj or the drama’s characterization of lwj is between them and themselves.

[sadlyghost]

Okay, I saw your "Marc Spector As Your Older Brother" post, and I would personally really like a little ficlet for that. Perhaps Teen!Reader is feeling frustrated/upset by something, and Marc helps her through it? Just a thought.

Thank you, and take care.

Summary: Your older brother Marc helps you through your school stress and frustration over an essay that you just can't seem to get right.

Pairing: Marc Spector x (platonic) Teen Sister Reader

Words: 1000

Content Warnings: Slight swearing, self deprication(?), school stress (?), tears(?)

A/N: Sorry this literally took forever to write. I hope you're happy with it :)

GIF CAPTION - "We can do this"

You sat at the dining table, head in hands as you groaned in frustration. You had been trying to write this essay for hours, and for some reason a magical solution to your problem hadn't fallen into your lap yet - which was inconvenient to say the least. The blank crumpled paper stared back at you. You had tried and tried to write, but you kept on erasing your words over and over. You just couldn't get it right. The paper had ended up beaten from your many attempts. Write. Erase. Repeat.

You had started to convince yourself that you were just plain stupid because you couldn't write a simple essay. Why did it seem so hard? You had been trying for hours and still had absolutely nothing.

Your older brother, Marc, stepped through the door into the apartment behind you.

"Heyy I'm back y/n" he calls out as he heads into the kitchen and puts his keys down casually.

You just let out a shaky breath and nod to yourself, trying to will yourself not to cry.

"How was studying?" he asks casually as he checks the fridge for a snack. You don't reply. He looks over the fridge door with a frown as he notices you staring down at the blank beaten paper with teary eyes.

"Not so good I'm guessing?" he ventures. At your silence, he closes the fridge quietly and walks over, pulling out a chair and sitting opposite you. He asesses the situation. School books splayed across the table. Crumpled paper. Essay guides left and right of you. And most importantly, teary eyes.

"The essay?" he asks softly, concluding that this was a school stress problem. You nod as your lip trembles slightly. Marc sighs. Before he can say anything else, you voice your frustration.

"I'm an idiot" you say weakly, almost a whisper, but Marc hears it. His frown deepens. You shouldn't think that way about yourself.

"No you're not" he tries to convince you softly, but you ignore his words. The frustration was too strong right now.

"I literally can't do anything right. I fucking suck at this. I suck at everything" you say harshly.

"I'll ignore that language just this once" he mutters to himself before sitting up straighter in his chair, readying himself for a pep talk he senses he is about to need to give.

"Why do you think that?" he prompts. You gesture to the paper and your study materials splayed across the table as if the answer was obvious.

"I'm incapable" you say shakily. Marc sighs and shakes his head.

"You're spiralling y/n. Lets come back to the essay. What are you finding difficult?" he asks, trying to guide you out of the self depricating pit you had fallen into. You flail your hands around the beaten paper and point at the study guides, your frustration essentially affecting your ability to think straight.

"I don't know- everything. It's all too hard. Too many words. I don't understand any of this. Why does it have to be so damn complicated? I'm not smart enough for this!" you exclaim before putting your head back into your hands to hide the tears that had escaped your eyes.

Marc watched sympatheticaly as your shoulders begin to shake. He sighed and stood, making his way to stand next to you. He gently placed his hand on your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you as he briefly looked over the materials infront of you. Honestly, it did look pretty overwhelming. Seeing that briefly took him back to his time in highschool. Thinking back, he remembered his fool proof way to de-stress when worrying about school work.

"Wanna go for a walk?" he suggested randomly, tapping on your shoulder. You paused for a second, looking up with teary confused eyes to him.

"What...?" you asked.

"Walk. Great way to de-stress. You've been working on this all day haven't you? I think it's time you had a break" he explained. You turned to him and wiped your teary eyes.

"But this is due tomorrow" you stated.

"We'll get it done after a short break. Trust me, you'll make more progress once you let your mind rest for a little bit" he reasoned. You hesitantly looked over the study materials on the dining table.

"Come onnnn" Marc said playfully as he gently pulled you up from the chair and turned you around by your shoulders. He lead you to the door.

"Lets go. It'll be fun. I promise" he said, both of you now heading out of the apartment.

Soon enougn, your essay was forgotten. Marc had taken you to a park down the street to clear your mind. The different environment, fresh air, and lack of study materials surrounding you all helped in easing your frustration over your essay.

On the way back, Marc suggested a quick detour. You happily agreed, now in a much better mood - which was about to improve even more.

"Icecreammm" he exclaimed next you to, earning a laugh from you. He gestured to the local icecream store near your apartment. You smiled.

Marc noticed your smile and smiled to himself as well. He felt like he was succeeding at his older brother duties.

"See? Told you a break would do you some good" he said. You gently elbowed his side playfully.

"Yeah, yeah Mr 'I'm right all the time'. Whatever you say" you joke. He is just happy you're feeling better and able to joke around again.

After the icecream stop you both head back to the apartment, still with plenty of time to work on the essay.

You both sit next to eachother at the table, Marc organises all the books and papers and guides next to eachother so that everything doesn't feel so messy and overwhelming. He looks at you beside him.

"Lets do this together. Yeah?" he proposes. You nod, feeling like you could approach this essay again after a nice break. The help and support of your older brother was also very very much appreciated.

"Together" you say in agreement, filled with determination to conquer this essay and move past your current school stress.

[shorkbrian]

Taking the risk of scaring you I must go on w my Tama thirst. I just can find a blog to I welcome my twisted self 😭 so Tama... I just want to kiss every part of him, kiss him through his pants, give hickeys to his thighs and after I use him throatfuck myself (I'm sure he'd go limp), I'd just overstimulate him to the point he isn't shy to be vocal, I'd give his balls, inflated or not, much love!! then I'd beg him to go balls deep in a mating press but I'msureIdwastehisseedasIcanthelpbutrub

Bro I am incapable of being scared, there is no kink shaming here ever!

(What to expect - NSFW, safe, sane, and consensual.  You’re hot for Tamaki and he’s BURNING for you babe. Body worship, hickies, throatfucking, overstim. Everything the ask contained basically lol.)

The thing about Tamaki, is that no matter how much he wants, anxiety takes over and stops him in his tracks.

His day is spent thinking of you, your sweet voice, pretty eyes, soft hands.... He’s always so distracted by his thoughts of you, it’s hard to get his job done.

But when he bumps into you, he’s a blushing mess, can barely talk, and usually ends up turning tail and heading somewhere else, just because he doesn’t know what to do. He’s afraid that you think he’s weird, or that he’s weak and limp and can’t compare to the brick houses that are Mirio and Kirishima. That he’s not a real man, can’t even build up the courage to talk to people for more than five minutes without freaking out.

God, you love him though.

So you’ll have to make the first move, have to invite him out for dinner or drinks. At first, he freaks out and shoots you down, stuttering out some excuse that doesn’t make any sense. But it’s obvious that he’s interested in you, so you ask Mirio how to get through to his friend.

Next time, you ask Tamaki to come watch a movie at your house, and Mirio is right there by his side, answering before Tamaki can blush and stumble his way through an apology.

“He’d love to! Friday night?”

Secretly, Tamaki would be thanking the lord for Mirio, but also cursing his existence at the same time. How was he supposed to survive being alone with his crush?

He was going to die.

The movie happened, then another, and then you argued that it was too late for Tamaki to go home, that he should just stay over.

And damn it, Tamaki didn’t know what came over him, maybe he was swayed by your eagerness, maybe it was because he himself was eager and wanting, but he said yes.

You offered to let him borrow a shirt, but it was obvious they wouldn’t fit, so Tamaki walked himself through the five second rule. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 - and then he was stripping off his shirt, even though he felt anxious.

Would you laugh at his body? Mock him for being smaller than other heros? He had some muscle, but he was definitely on the leaner side.

To his relief, you breathed out a little sigh, an “oh-” that had the tips of his ears turning red at your tone of voice.

“Tama... can I-can I touch?”

He felt himself bobbing his head, gulping as you stepped closer, greedy hands rising to his chest.

At first contact, he felt goosebumps erupt down his arms, your fingers slightly cold upon his skin. You flashed him an apologetic smile, before suddenly leaning down, placing a small kiss right below his left clavicle.

Tamaki stuttered out an awkward laugh - he felt like he was short circuiting.

Somehow, the two of you ended up in your bed, in nothing but underwear.

The man was beet red, trying to be respectful and not ogle your chest, drool over your tummy, stare and lick his lips with his eyes fixed on the jewel between your legs, the beautiful flesh covered by thin panties.

But you directed his gaze with a soft hand under his chin, a gentle “Don’t you like how I look?”

And immediately he was bobbing his head yes, staring into your eyes when you smiled down at him, directing his gaze to your body with a wave of your hand, giving him permission to shamelessly gaze at your body.

You were so beautiful, he could look at you forever. Tamaki didn’t even know how he got this lucky, being able to share this moment with you, where you both appraised each other’s bodies with awe.

But you were impatient, crawling forward to gently push Tamaki onto his back. Your eyes flickered up to his as your hands ghosted over his chest, as you leaned down until your lips were mere inches from his skin. 

“Is this fine? Tell me what you’re comfortable with.”

And oh god, oh god, this was more than okay. This was everything he could ever want, everything he could ever dream of. 

At his enthusiastic nod, his “I’m-I’m good.... please.” You gave him a soft, loving smile, before touching your lips to his chest.

Kisses were placed everywhere, his chest, the quivering flesh of his soft tummy, his delicate shoulders. You peppered his slender throat with soft pecks, grinning when Tamaki unsuccessfully tried to hold back an embarrassing, keening whine when you closed your lips around his adam’s apple.

“Feels good? Tell me.�� But he was too shy, shaking his head as his hands found purchase in your hair. He didn’t have the words to explain how you were making him feel.

You huffed at his forced silence, drawing away from giving little smooches, just so you could look at his face. He was sure his cheeks were red, eyes blown out and huge.

“Tamaki, I want you to enjoy this. If you aren’t feeling good, or wanna slow down, tell me. I don’t want to do anything you aren’t okay with, alright?”

Tamaki felt his heart clench a little - you were so careful with him, so tender. He nodded again, trying to find his voice.

“Yes, yes (Y/N)-this is good. I want.....” He held himself back. What if you weren’t comfortable with this? What if you wanted an out? He didn’t want to force you either, he wanted you to enjoy yourself. Right now though, his thoughts felt jumbled, like his brain was rolling around in a hamster wheel.

“What do you want Tama?” Your voice was breathy as you leaned down to whisper in his ear, and Tamaki almost came in his fucking pants when you nibbled at the lobe. His ears were so sensitive, and he was so embarrassed by the way his hips involuntarily shifted when you continued to give his ear attention.

“I want-I want.... um, more? P-Please?” God, his voice kept cracking, he felt like a teenager again, nervous and awkward and scared of rejection.

But you were there to alleviate his fears with a soft laugh, a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll give you whatever you want.”

And then you were kissing down his body, brushing past his boxer-clad erection-oh god.

Down to his thighs, which you parted easily, helped by Tamaki’s eager movements. He wanted to let you have all of him - just as you wanted to give him anything, he wanted to give you everything.

You latched onto a thigh, a few inches above the knee, sucking at the flesh with a smile, tongue circling and patting and it felt good-

Then you moved to a different area, higher up, intent on sucking a beautiful bruise into his pale skin.

Tamaki had to grab the sheets, already close to cumming from the sensation of your lips against his skin. He wanted you so much, you were so perfect. He tried to hold back his voice, keep his moans and gasps and sighs in check, but it was difficult. Still, he didn’t want to weird you out or anything, so he tried his best.

The man really wanted to hear your own voice, hear you talk to him, walking him through what you were going to do to him, what you wanted to do. Wanted to hear you moan and laugh and say his name over and over again until you couldn’t speak.

For now, he was content with watching you suck at his thighs, leaving messy trails of saliva as you got closer and closer to his dick.

You stopped at the hem of his boxers, teasingly licking over the fabric, before scrunching it up with your fingers, letting your nails scratch lightly against his sensitive skin.

“Oh-” Tamaki breathed, before shooting his hand up to cover his mouth, eyes trained on your mouth. You smiled, lifting your eyes to meet his own, and he-

You were so pretty, so beautiful. Tamaki felt so insignificant in your presence, so lucky. How did someone like you find someone like him attractive?

Those thoughts were quickly purged from his mind as you quickly closed your teeth around the skin of his inner thigh, close enough to his cock that when it twitched, it skimmed against your nose briefly. Tamaki had to tear his eyes away from yours, falling back on the bed to grasp at the sheets, breathing hard as he willed himself not to cum.

Working at the skin between your teeth, you sucked at the flesh, swirling your tongue around it, making sloppy little sounds. Tamaki was going to melt, he couldn’t stop thinking about your mouth around his cock, how your pink tongue would feel digging into his slit, drenching the crown, laving over the veins on the underside.

He was gasping now, a hand clutching his naked chest, eyes squeezed tightly shut, legs twitching.

You pulled away with a sultry chuckle, and this was it - Tamaki was going to get his dick sucked, Mirio would be so proud-

But you moved to his other thigh, starting at the knee again, licking and biting at the skin.

Tamaki didn’t know whether to feel frustrated or relieved.

The process was the same, teasing little bites, hard suction to purple the skin. It all felt good to Tamaki, but as you got close to his crotch, he found himself tensing up, wanting to clench his thighs together and rub his cock.

But you were leading now, and he wanted to follow.

Holy fuck, he wanted to touch his cock though. He was aching, boxers getting a little damp where his tip rested against them. Tamaki felt himself twitching, tender and wanting. 

He couldn’t stop himself from reaching down, quickly palming over his cock as you got closer with you mouth, using your nails again to roll up the hem of his boxers, to right underneath his balls. They scraped over the globes slightly, and Tamaki’s thighs tried to snap shut, stopped by your body between them.

“Sorry, here, let me?” Your hand covered his own, and he let you move it to the side, unable to stop his chest from heaving. He was so worked up already, he felt like he had just finished running a marathon.

Instead of palming over him with your pretty, soft hands, you brought your lips to the bulge, kissing it quickly, drawing back and giggling when it twitched.

“Oh, please-please touch me.” Tamaki didn’t feel bad about begging at the moment, too caught up in the physical sensations, and you seemed to like his voice. 

Without another word, you met his eyes, simultaneously opening your mouth and letting your tongue loll out flat. Still maintaining eye contact, you lowered yourself closer and closer, and Tamaki couldn’t catch a goddamn breath, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight before him.

You were so enthusiastic, licking at his cock through the material of his boxers, grabbing at the fabric with your teeth, pulling it back only to let it go, let it snap against his cock and make him keen. You went from soft, loving kisses to fast licks, closing your lips around part of it and sucking quickly, and Tamaki was losing it.

He was struggling to keep his hips down, to stop himself from thrusting into your face, chasing the heavenly feel of you. It felt so good, he didn’t have words, couldn’t even begin to quantify how he was feeling, other than good good good, and he wanted more.

“Don’t tease, please don’t tease. ‘M so close-” He gasped out, slim hands patting your head quickly, trying to catch your attention as he wiggled underneath your ministrations.

With a laugh, you pulled away, meeting his eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” Thumbs hooking into the waist band oh his boxers, you couldn’t stop yourself from pulling the band, letting it slap down against his skin and make Tamaki jerk and his lungs punch out a gasp.

“Can I take these off?”

“Yes, yes, anything. Just-just touch me please.” He stumbled over his words, face aflame. “But only-only if you w-want.”

“Oh-” you smirked, beginning to shimmy his boxers down his hips, licking your lips when you managed to free his cock. “-I want to touch so bad.”

And then his boxers were off, and you were gripping his cock with your fucking perfect hands, giving him a cursory stroke that was dry and rough but so fucking good.

“You’re so lovely, everything about you is so handsome.” You spit over his cock, and Tamaki fisted his fingers into the sheets as the saliva hit the head before dripping down his length.

You used your spit to slick him up, running your hands gently over his flushed cock, enjoying the squelching sounds.

Tamaki almost died when you put him in your mouth.

Lips pursing around the head, you twirled your tongue over his skin, lapping at the slit, digging underneath the rosy crown. Tamaki barely had time to process the sensation though, because you were sheathing his entire length down your throat.

“Oh-h god!” he yelped, hips bucking upwards before he could stop them. He felt so bad, you gagged a bit and drew off his cock, coughing. “I’m-I’m so sorry! I d-didn’t mean-”

“Do that again, fuck my throat Tamaki.” You rasped, immediately swallowing him down again.

What if he hurt you? What if-

He didn’t get the chance to be anxious. 

You didn’t like how he wasn’t moving, his muscles tensed as he kept his hips still. Taking it upon yourself, you began bobbing your head, up and down, and Tamaki wanted to cry because it felt so good.

“I don’t w-want to hurt you, oh god, please wait!” He yelped, and you immediately pulled off, spit dripping down your chin.

“Hey, hey, don’t worry.” You breathed, patting his hip comfortingly. “I want you to do this Tama, I’ve practiced. No gag reflex, see?” You grabbed his hand, curling his fingers until only two were held straight, and promptly stuffed them into your mouth, pushing at his wrist so his fingers went as far down as possible.

Tamaki’s throat had never been dryer. It’s like he couldn’t speak, only dumbly nod his head as he felt your throat convulse around his fingers, all wet and velvety smooth. 

You pulled his hand away, licking seductively at his fingers before letting go. “I want you to fuck my throat, please.” You were looking at him with such honesty, such desperation. “I want to suck you off and have you cum down my throat, want it to fill up my stomach Tama.”

The ravenette could barely nod, eyes glassy, chest heaving. He wanted that so bad, you sounded like a vixen, looked like one two, batting your eyelashes at him like that.

You settled between his thighs again, giving his cock a nice, lengthy lick on the underside before fixing Tamaki with a confident stare. “Don’t hold back, I want you to feel good.” 

He was already feeling good, but if you insisted.

Cautious at first, hesitant, Tamaki was afraid of pushing too deep, moving too fast. But you grew impatient again, moving your own head while tapping his hip, encouraging him to speed up.

And he did, a bit, but he was still measuring his thrusts, trying to keep his head steady despite the tight suction of your throat.

You grabbed his hands, guiding them to your head, pressing them flat so he could hold your head. You looked up at him, completely stilling your movements, forcing your mouth as wide as it could go, fixing him with the most intense gaze.

Tamaki got the message.

He gripped your head tight, kept you in place before snapping his hips up, and you closed your eyes, as if you’d finally got what you had wanted. 

It’s like his restraint flew out the window, now that he was confident that you wanted this, sure that it wasn’t hurting you. His balls slapped against your chin, a lewd rhythm of smacks and gurgles and wet sucking coming from your mouth.

Drool was dripping off your chin, onto his balls, over his taint. When the liquid touched his hole, Tamaki shouted, eyes suiting shut as his stomach flexed. He felt so good, this was more than he had ever dreamed of, more than he could've ever imagined.

And then he was cumming, probably far too soon, but you wouldn’t make fun of him, he knew that.  He cursed, holding you flush against his hips, cock twitching against your tight throat as he shot his seed down your throat.

A few last desperate rocks of his hips, and then he was pulling you off, tiredly patting you face as you coughed.

“Are y-you okay?” And you, the angel you were, smiled, giving him a cheesy thumbs up.

“Couldn’t breathe for a second there, but that comes with the territory. Did that feel good though?”

Tamaki nodded, eyes closing blissfully. You were too good to him, too good for him.

Where did he go from here? Should he offer to finger you? He didn’t know how, he never thought he’d be in a situation where he’d be naked in bed with anyone, let alone you, a literal walking wet dream.

“You’re so quiet Tama-” You noticed, a hand stroking over his quivering tummy as he calmed down from his orgasm. “-I kinda want to hear you.”

With that confession, your mouth was on his cock again, slurping and suckling at the sensitive length.

“A-h-h! W-wait! God that’s too-fuck, no, wait!”

You pulled off quickly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “I’ll stop if you want me to, I’m not gonna force you to do anything, ever, okay?”

Tamaki nodded, cheeks flushing. “I just need... a moment. You’re-you’re good with your mouth.”

A smile graced your lips, and you tilted your head. “I still wanna hear you though, you’ve been holding back your voice this entire time. I like it when you lose yourself.”

Another nod, the man biting his lip. ‘I just don’t want to-to scare you off or anything. I’m loud, and I sound-I mean....” He averted his eyes bashfully “-My voice can get kind of-of h-high.”

That was embarrassing to admit.

You didn’t miss a beat, clambering forward until you were laying beside him, face even with his own. “But I like that Tama, I think it’s sexy when you lose control like that.”

The admission made Tamaki gasp, blushing even further, and you leaned in for a kiss, which the man eagerly returned. 

“I-I think you’re sexy too.” Was his lame reply. He wished he was better with his words, could describe how amazing and beautiful and stunning you were.

Your hand fell to his cock, drawing him out of his self-doubt. You were pumping him gently, focusing more attention on his balls, lightly pinching the skin, massaging the flesh, before giving him another stroke.

“I wanna see you cum again, and this time, you’re gonna moan nice and loud for me, yeah?”

Again, you were whispering in his ear, biting at the shell, liking over the cartilage with your warm, slippery tongue.

Tamaki drew in a breath.

“And I don’t want you holding back any of your cute sounds. If you do, I’ll have to make you cum again and again until you’re too fucked out to feel self conscious.” The promise made Tamaki’s stomach burn hot with arousal, and his cock was starting to throb again, hastened along by your helping, smooth hand.

“I’ll-I’ll try.” He whispered, voice catching in his throat. He could imagine it now, him writhing in overstimulation as you sucked at his cock, holding his hips down as he cried and shivered and moaned about how good it felt.

“Then, I’m gonna finger myself while you watch, and when I’m nice and ready, you’re gonna fuck me.”

Tamaki felt like passing out, blood rushing down to his cock so fast that he felt all fuzzy and weak.

“I’m gonna lay back, and hold myself open, and you’re going to stick your pretty little cock deep, and you’re not gonna stop until you cum inside.”

The ravenette had never been felt more turned on in his entire life.

“Sound good?” Your voice was soft, sweet. he knew that you were giving him an opportunity to say no, to express any discomfort or unease he felt.

But Tamaki only felt lust.

With a sudden surge of confidence, he turned to his side, lips seeking out your own. He kissed you desperately, eagerly, probably clumsy but he didn’t care.

When he separated, he paused for a moment, breathing against you while he tried to find words to convey his excitement.

“Ruin me, (Y/N). Make-make me cry.”

[primrose-path-of-dalliance]

jester began falling in love with caleb in episode 103.

not any earlier in my opinion, and not later, either.

there's two elements to why i believe e103 is the turning point.

(1) the first is caleb's actions and jester's responses to them during the night they all sleep by the waterfall—his support of her idea to sleep underwater, his conversation with her after her commune with artagan, and his casting of programmed illusion in the dome.

(2) the second is the way her behavior toward caleb pivots around e103. before e103 is a noticeably different beast to how she begins to treat him after e103—the attention she pays him, her efforts to hold more standout interactions with him, and a dramatic swell of emotion and thematic meaning in these scenes’ respective subtext.

the rumblecusp arc is the point in which jester’s character growth, and caleb’s efforts to unconditionally support her, really begin to shine. throughout the complex growing pains that jester and artagan's relationship was experiencing, the one person who truly takes a moment to offer her support without any agenda or judgment is caleb.

(e103, 1:22:55, bold mine)

CALEB: You okay over there?

JESTER: (tearful) Yeah, I'm fine. Just—I'm just drawing.

CALEB: Maybe didn't go as well as you were hoping?

JESTER: Um... In some ways it went better. But no.

CALEB: I can't speak for him. But you do have us.

JESTER: I know.

CALEB: So whatever you land on, Jester, we'll make it happen.

JESTER: (shaky laugh) I have to figure out what I want to land on.

CALEB: That is the, uh—sticky wicket, isn't it?

JESTER: Yeah. Everything's confusing.

CALEB: Maybe... Maybe we sleep on it, it'll make more sense in the morning.

JESTER: Yeah. Yeah. Thank you, Caleb.

CALEB: I didn't do anything.

jester confesses that her commune with artagan didn’t provide the answers she was hoping for—that he knew about the curse on the island—and caleb doesn’t remark on what that seems like. he deliberately avoids speculating on why artagan is doing these things because “he can’t speak for him.” he doesn’t assume anything about what she might choose to do and explicitly leaves that choice up to her. jester vents briefly about how difficult the choice is, and caleb offers her reassurance, a reminder that some time will make things clearer. he doesn’t suggest solutions.

unlike fjord or beau, caleb doesn’t ask her to voice outright whether artagan is being a good friend. he doesn’t continually question his character and imply any personal opinions to her or what he thinks she should do. instead, he asks whether she’s okay. he listens. and he offers unconditional support.

this is consistently the stance caleb takes in the rumblecusp arc. and it’s not discussed much, i think, exactly how monumental that was to jester.

(hold on, this is a long one.)

jester is a young woman who grew up sheltered and wants to define herself outside of that shelter. for her, this campaign has essentially been a coming-of-age journey (talks for e76-77, 14:12). she is deeply sensitive to whether or not she’s respected because she’s aware of how her personality and general lack of experience makes others think she’s naive, immature, or incapable (talks for e79, 31:51).

it’s also incredibly evident that her relationship with artagan is unique. in e105 (1:15:01), jester tells the m9, “he really got me through a lot when i was younger, you know? and he was all i had, really.” he was her best friend from childhood in a home where she spent most of her time hidden in a single room. when she was younger, the few times she left the chateau, she was bullied by other girls (e110, 3:34:59). her best friend, though? her best friend was a god. a god with an incredible sense of humor, an aggrandizing attitude, and adoring respect for a young girl in a difficult situation who had as wonderful a personality as him. in every way that matters, artagan’s friendship undoubtedly saved jester’s life.

and she is so, so aware of this. she cares for him deeply, trusts him unconditionally, and is determined to be there for the one person who had been there for her when no one else was, not even her mother.

the renegotiation of this friendship after artagan revealed his full identity was clearly extraordinarily difficult for jester. she was having to reevaluate her entire relationship with the being that pulled her through a childhood of isolation and misery, question his intentions with her and whether they could even remain friends at all. and this was amidst her arrival at a dangerous island with her other friends to help him clean up his mistakes.

asking her to make a judgment on artagan before she’s ready to do it on her own, while managing some high expectations at the same time—not only is it a lot of pressure, it’s frustrating and painful. jester did not want to judge artagan without giving him his fair due and a proper conversation. knowing that her new friends dislike her old friend, besides being hurt by it, distracted her. she had to both defend him outwardly and interrogate him internally. and if she tried to explain how important artagan is to her, a lot of vulnerability would’ve been necessary when she was trying to be a leader and seem competent and capable, instead of a child who needs patronizing guidance.

this latter point is exceptional. because jester lavorre is so vulnerable when it comes to how much she thinks her loved ones respect her and consider her a valuable, equal, and trustworthy individual. and it’s difficult to feel like you’re being valued and trusted when people are repeatedly questioning you about a person and a relationship that they don’t understand in a way that, despite genuine concern, comes across as them doubting your own judgment of one of the most intimate parts of your life.

in this precise moment in e103, caleb is the only person who acknowledges—to her in person, even—that he doesn't have any place in judging her relationship with artagan. that it’s not what she needs from him or anyone else. that he’s content waiting for her to reach a decision. that he will respect that decision.

and jester can believe him. caleb’s done nothing but remain consistent on this stance. he repeatedly supports her choices to run travelercon, trust artagan, and come to his aid.

when other party members question artagan's legitimacy, caleb is the one who almost always speaks up to support jester (some examples: e61, 30:43 / e77, 49:17 / e95, 1:09:17 and 1:15:24).

he actively and enthusiastically offers his magical talents to her to provide for the event preparations. he has a whole conversation with her in e91 (beginning 1:53:41) where he expresses his immense respect for her and her personality, explicitly validates her faith in artagan, and shows her a tangible example of how he wants to help her during the upcoming travelercon. when she suggests some ideas, despite their arguable silliness, caleb takes them at face value and openly admits his lack of expertise in this area (e91, 1:58:35).

when they first arrive at rumblecusp, he directly reassures jester about the ‘travelercon 3000’ banner she leaves on the wrong beach by mentioning that he can make her a new banner (e101, 48:18). once preparations begin in earnest, caleb expends spells very freely, including ones of higher-level, to produce whatever jester requests.

in e103, he hears out her idea of sleeping underwater and gives it equal consideration in spite of other party members trying to shoot it down. the first time she suggests it (36:23), caduceus comments against it and no other party member acknowledges her except for caleb, who agrees with her quietly while the others move on. the second time jester suggests it (46:08), veth comments against it and caleb steps in to openly agree that it’s a good idea, even after fjord and beau join veth in being dubious.

compare these active, consistent moments of support and validation from caleb to similarly active and consistent examples of the other attitudes that manifest during the rumblecusp arc, in contradiction to people’s apparent claims of trust (one such claim of trust: e95, 1:00:21).

plainly insulting artagan to jester as if it’s a given, such as fjord’s “he’s generally full of shit, right?” (e107, 49:42);

fjord, beau, and caduceus’s conversation about “not ruining jester’s big day,” yet distrusting artagan to the extent of planning to keep her from being alone with him, preparing to attack him should he try to sacrifice 200 people for some speculated unknown ritual and/or hurt jester, and discussing all of this behind jester’s back (e108, beginning 15:41);

caduceus’s said shift to distrust of artagan because of a semi-disturbing conversation that jester was equally a part of (e107, beginning 20:40);

and the discussion right before jester’s commune with artagan where beau questions if artagan sent them to rumblecusp knowing of the memory problems, without regard for their well-being (e103, 29:40).

the unfortunate assumption being made by these party members’ repeated questioning and protectiveness of jester is that she cannot be trusted to have good judgment. despite their familiarity with some of the context of her relationship with artagan (especially after e105), they disregard her repeatedly-expressed support of him. they indirectly disrespect her ability to judge for herself whether someone is dangerous to her or her friends. they don’t acknowledge jester’s own role in creating dubious situations and instead direct all their negative feelings and sense of fault to artagan, minimizing her agency.

the e108 conversation is a dense microcosm of how the party perpetrates these assumptions throughout the rumblecusp arc as a whole. without qualm, they discuss deliberately controlling jester’s time with artagan to ‘protect’ her and their willingness to kill the evil image they’ve constructed of him, and dodge jester directly asking them what they’re talking about—even though it is a known given that the m9 would defend her with their lives with or without any prior discussion. the purpose of holding this conversation isn’t to make sure that jester is safe. like caduceus near-explicitly says, it’s to “feel better knowing” that “anybody else was on board with this” (20:26 and 18:57)—to validate their unacknowledged distrust of jester’s judgment with each other, behind her back.

and as laura has said: jester, with her very high wisdom, tends to know what’s going on even if she acts like she doesn’t (talks for e79, 32:39).

in e103, when jester is crying because she’s found out that artagan did know about the island’s memory problems, caleb doesn’t show any sign of taking this as proof of artagan's ill intent. what he does instead: he offers compassion for her pain with zero judgment. he promises to support her, no matter what she ultimately decides to make of this information. these are offers of safety and trust, ones that jester desperately needed.

then—caleb creates a programmed illusion of the m9’s lives. and it’s beautiful.

in comparison to all the analysis prior, this moment is straightforward. jester is an artist. she paints, draws, and creates, and she loves doing it. moreover, she loves making art for other people. though she doesn’t get many chances to do so, the mural of a flowery meadow that she paints for yasha’s room in the xhorhaus is a perfect example. similarly, she enjoys the art she makes when defacing other people’s property—altered signage or statue of the platinum dragon painted in rainbow—in part because they’re gifts to the traveler. she loves making those she loves happy.

happiness and love to jester is overwhelmingly about emotional intimacy. i’ve talked about this to some degree in a previous post about jester’s jealousy. please refer there for in-depth explanation. in brief, though, she puts value on how deeply she knows a person; how often she’s been able to be there for them. this is the love she learned from her mother and from artagan, and how she continues to love once she’s older.

caleb’s arcane rendition of the m9′s lives floating around the inside of the dome is a display of exactly this kind of love. not only is it art crafted from his magic and imagination and love—it’s blatant evidence of how much he cares for every member of the party and where they’ve come from. he remembers their stories and hangs them in the air in hopes that it’ll help them resist the memory erasing. he moves the memory of yasha and zuala in a meadow over to yasha’s pillow-side so she can watch it until she falls asleep. he creates a memory for vilya of her, her husband, and her daughter, listening to and respecting the emotional gravity of what she’s confiding in them.

only a few minutes after jester’s disappointing commune with artagan and her conversation with caleb, she walks into the dome and sees this art. she laughs and stares in wonder at all the memories (e103, 1:46:08). when beau points out the humorous memories of fjord being attacked by turtles so they can all laugh, she tells caleb with equal awe and joy, “wow. this is amazing, caleb” (e103, 1:47:04).

...of course, as lovely and meaningful as these back-to-back moments were for jester, it's not quite evidence of her starting to fall in love with caleb around this time.

that’s where the following episodes come in.

[id: three screenshots of messages sent in a discord channel by the user “prim” (the op). all are timestamped to friday, august 28, 2020, the day after the live premiere of e107. the first has an additional timestamp of 12:53 PM, the second 1:03 PM, and the third 1:30 PM. they read:

honest to god though i don't know if it's just the shipper brain that is making me think laura is trying to roleplay jester beginning to reciprocate caleb's feelings [...]

like........ the golden dick hunt teasing is definitely on par with jester's past shenanigans, but the compliments have been Catching My Attention bc it's honestly not normal for jester to compliment caleb of her own volition like that, just as a one-on-one "i appreciate you" reassurance

and i'm thinking less about the spells from last night's episode (although how much jester was emphasizing the compliments made me go "awwwww") and more of the moments like jester telling caleb "that was impressive" after getting cad out of the tunnel with beau's help

but laura is absolutely a shipping troll with jester this campaign so i'm here like "I'M MAYBE 80% SURE I'M BEING FUCKED WITH BUT IT MAYBE HOLDS UP????" [...]

basically laura keeps doing things that make the alarm in my brain go off and i don't know if i'm picking up something legit or if i'm projecting my hopes, like the recent pattern of compliments from jester LOL

/end id.]

i’m not going to lie, if i try to list every single receipt like i otherwise prefer to do in these metas, i think we (and especially i) would all lose our minds. so while i’m about to provide a lot of citations, they genuinely are just a few possible examples that will mostly be within the dozen episodes after e103.

the more important detail that can be observed from this is that e103 is a turning point.

prior to e103, jester does not particularly go out of her way to interact with caleb. by and large, most of their direct interactions are either initiated by caleb or prompted by the context of a general party conversation. the majority of other moments that could be referred to as ‘widojest’ are of caleb’s evident feelings. beyond early campaign days, jester rarely teases caleb about sexual topics while insinuating things about her own sexual life at the same time.

after e103, laura and jester begin to go out of their way to interact with and intertwine jester’s time with caleb.

the rate of jester’s compliments and enthusiastic gratitude to caleb skyrocket (some examples: e104, 30:36 / e107, 16:49 and 1:11:28 and 1:12:15 and 3:10:39 / e110, 15:58 and 3:37:24 / e111, 36:15 and 38:41 and 50:58);

several mature jokes/flirtations she makes involve both caleb and herself (examples: e107, 1:16:17 / e110, 1:18:07 / e115, 1:52:53);

she deliberately and specifically engages caleb in full-blown interactions, such as the conversations during the tour of her childhood bedroom (e110, beginning 1:11:38), hanging out with him on the icebreaker ship (e112, beginning 3:45:29), and the reading of der katzenprinz (e115, beginning 1:52:43);

as well as the expansion of more extended ‘conversations’ like their motif of dancing (e108, 13:39 / e109, 2:54:14), their parental relationships (e110, 20:44 and 3:38:41 / e115′s der katzenprinz / e121, beginning 1:52:12), and polymorph shenanigans (examples: e107, beginning 2:58:41 / e117, beginning 1:13:55 / e118, 43:57).

thrown in are additional background details that further tie jester to caleb, such as her determination to recover caleb’s amulet after their defeat of vokodo (e106, 25:33), the knowing comments on his purchasing of paper (e109, 22:32 / e111, 1:25:49), her deliberate choice to ride whaleb during the avantika chase (e113, 2:32:28), her retrieval of caleb’s coat when he’s attempting to remove the necromantic emerald (e115, 1:30:56), and her deliberate reference to der katzenprinz to iver (e120, 3:05:14);

and simply everything about the tower. it’s another example of the art and creativity caleb produces with his magic to make his loved ones happy, which jester acknowledges at least twice (refer to the e111 compliments). contrarily, jester also makes note of the signs that this tower shows less love to caleb than she thinks he deserves, in keeping with her value of emotional intimacy (e115’s der katzenprinz / e122’s floor 8, room 1).

the reading of der katzenprinz in e115 is arguably the pinnacle of these examples. it’s intentionally initiated by jester. she both takes the step to visit caleb's room and indirectly requests him to read the story to her. laura’s implication that she remembered this subplot because of beau’s reading of a very romantic letter from yasha is particularly suggestive. the story itself incorporates many similar characters and themes that are present in jester’s backstory: the lonely, sheltered boy and his single working mom as jester and marion; the dubious cat prince who ultimately gives the boy freedom and confidence as artagan; and the deep love between the boy and his mother because of how they only have each other, which compels a powerful being to have compassion and thus set the boy free so that they can be together. very similar to both jester’s depth of relationship with her mother and her pleas on artagan’s behalf to the moonweaver’s celestial servant.

and the post-story conversation—caleb’s confiding of its importance to him because of his mother. jester’s open willingness to compare the cat prince to artagan, knowing that caleb respects their friendship and has treated artagan fairly. jester’s lingering, repeated looks toward caleb while smiling and holding her copy of der katzenprinz to her heart.

with all this dramatic expansion of the emotional and thematic intimacy between jester and caleb beginning to roll down the hill after e103—in brilliant contrast to their more muted, less reciprocal dynamic before this episode—e103 is more than likely the turning point of jester’s feelings. and based on the events and context, it was caused by the combined emotional appeal of caleb’s offer of unconditional support and his display of love for his family in the programmed illusion of memories.

[colorlesschristmastree]

Salty ask game: 9 and 21

Salty ask game answers!!!

Number 9: Most disliked character(s)? Why?

Well I'll start off with an easy one, as we all know I really dislike Nesta. I don't think she's an appealing character and I find her writing to be a bit lacking. Her treatment of the people around her and the justification for it irritates me. And just her dialogue and the way she speaks and thinks of herself is also irksome. All of that is amped up by the things her die hard stans say about both her and the other characters.

Hmm.. I also really fucking hate George from Grey's anatomy. He's just an annoying little cry baby bitch and I wanna bash his head in. Or well I did until the bus did it for me lmaooo.

I also really dislike mcu Steve Rodgers, he's so bland and was very clearly rewritten in the mcu to accommodate to nationalistic "good guy" white men.

OH OH OH AND I HATE HATE HATE HATE MAL FROM SHADOW AND BONE FUCK HIM. I apologize for my out burst I just had forgotten him briefly and then when I remembered that little fuckers name I got excited. He's just such an immature piece of shit and I'm made to feel bad for him and that I should like him because he's "written realistically". And ykw imo that's what makes him worse, he is realistically an asshole and those are the worst types to me. He only loved Alina when she was weak and dependent on him and lashed out at her anytime she stood on her own two feet. His anger and brattiness was fucking ridiculous and obnoxious and I am physically incapable of feeling empathy for that man. He should rot. And wanna know how I know I and the anti mals are right and the Mal stans are wrong? They had to completely alter his character in the show and change any scene where he was a pissy little whoreish cunt to Alina and make him some nice soft simp who understands her perfectly. If he was so good and likable they would have kept him the same as he was in the books, but no they needed to do a complete 180 to make anyone think that Malina isn't a garbage ship. Idc if the darkling was allegedly inspired by Leigh Bardugo's abusive ex boyfriend, I don't care if Nikolai wanted her for power, I don't care if you claim Genya and Zoya are straight. Literally anyone else would have been better.

Number 21: I am not against crack ships and don't have any problems with them, I just think you need to be able to be mindful and respectful to the actual characters. Like I've seen people shipping Tamlin with Feysand's future daughter and that's just fucking disgusting. Like I'm ok with characters that dislike each other or have a negative history together but I think there has to be a limit, like it can't be gross. It can't be shipping someone with an abuser or rapist or someone you know shouldn't be shipped with anyone.

[fayeimara]

Meant To Be || One For Every Billion

6. By My Side | Pt 5

It takes you just a moment to understand his last message but you're already looking up as the dots are being connected and there he is, walking towards you with a real smirk on his real face.

So when he reaches you, you immediately say, "Definitely cute." and watch his mouth drop as he blushes.

Pretty boy didn't think you'd say it, did he? People should really know better than to dare you.

Although he gathers his composure pretty fast, responding after a beat, "Not cuter than you."

You laugh and shake your head, finishing the rest of your drink before standing, "Do you want anything?"

"I'm good, I just had a milkshake from the snack bar on the corner."

He moves to let you pass by him, following your lead as you move to exit the lounge and comment, "That's how you got here so fast. Where are the others?"

"Decided to do their own things, I guess. I think Maki was tired. I don't know what Iwa-chan and Mattsun are up to."

"Uh huh." You had a pretty good idea. They're probably busy being some of the best wingmen ever. That or Toru just ditched his friends, but you don't think he'd really ever do that.

But he'd also be complaining a little more that they ditched him if he didn't have some sort of idea so... you don't know what to think. Which is becoming a constant issue in his presence but it doesn't feel bad or scary.

At this point, you're not going to question it. If everyone is okay and happy, then you're going to focus on the now. Toru is really good at bringing that out in you, you realize as you come to a stop in the warm night air.

Turning to face him with a smile, you ask, "So, then, any requests from the birthday boy?"

His eyes light up with excitement and he responds, "Yes, but it's a surprise!"

"Okay, but.. shouldn't I be surprising you?" You question as he starts to lead you away from the lounge entrance.

"You already did! Now I know we have all night to enjoy the rest of the park."

"Or at least until it closes in a couple hours."

"Then we can gather anyone who's still up and have a party in my room!"

"Yeah, that's real ambitious. We'll see on that but- what's first?"

He stops briefly when he sees a cotton candy stall and answers in his sing-song manner, "First, something sweet for my angel."

Oh he's so cute. Seriously. But you let him buy it for you before prompting, "And now?"

"And now," he looks over at you with a satisfied smile, "we enjoy a ride down a river in a boat." He reveals, just as the two of you reach the entrance to the small, peaceful dock.

"Don't they close the river rides after dark?"

"In ten minutes, actually. So we should hurry because it'll drop us off to our next destination."

You look at him in surprise as you both join the relatively short line. Did he have this planned for before, when he thought you were going to leave? It's a little bittersweet because that's really thoughtful but, it also makes you sad to realize that would mean that maybe he thought the two of you wouldn't see each other again until the next time you visited. It also made you question... Were you unintentionally pushing him away when you visited?

Or you're just overthinking as per usual and he just puts this much effort into it every time he's spending time with a girl he might like. Right.

The two of you reach the front of the line in just a couple minutes and listen to the instructions from the staff member who tries to hand you down into the automated boat. You say 'try' because Toru's hand cuts in between and he helps you instead, giving the guy a pretty condescending smile. He's not even threatened, just.. acting like there was no other possibility because, well, it's not even a contest. You can't lie, you like it.

You settle down and he gets in after you, pretty steady himself as he elegantly plops down into the seat next to you, his arms stretching forward for a brief moment before leaning back into the seat, shifting his legs forward, and placing his hands in his jacket pockets. And whatever he just did there.. that's pretty hot too.

As your boat moves away from the dock, you're struck by the romantic atmosphere of the ride. The quiet melody of the water you're gliding through, the trees dotting the sides of the river that sway with a breeze every so often, their branches reaching towards the water like the leaves are looking for a cool, gentle place to lay. You and Toru, under the stars that are peeking slightly out of the sky, like shy observers to your secret little adventure.

He isn't saying anything either, studying the environment and in his own thoughts you suppose, but you don't mind the silence. You do, however, offer him the cotton candy, tilting the base of the cone you're holding so it's angled towards him. He pulls a hand free from his pocket to reach out and grab a tuft of the cloud-like candy before popping it in his mouth with a smile.

"Do you think about where you want to be in the future?" He's looking up at the sky, head tilted back against the seat, when you look over at his question.

You bite your lip, considering what he's asking. You think way too much about it sometimes, you suppose. "How far in the future?"

He looks over at you in surprise, like he expected a quick answer instead of your clarifying question. Now it's his turn to think. "I guess in a few years, after graduating. What do you want to do?"

"What I want to do is probably very different from where I might be, I think."

"How so?"

You're both looking at each other, lost in another bubble together, so you try to be as honest to yourself as you want to be with him, "In an ideal world, I would either write or play volleyball. Realistically, I'll end up tied to... my family business more than I'd like. Which means I likely won't have the time or energy left to do the things I love."

His eyes are wide, you think he's realized he just turned a mountain, not a rock. Maybe even you wouldn't know what to say in response to someone who just said what you did. But then he surprises you yet again, "If you know what you want to do, what stops you from making sure that's where you end up instead, no matter what?"

"You know," you smile at him softly, "That's exactly the battle I'm currently fighting. So we'll see how it turns out, I guess."

"So," his voice turns teasing, "will you pick writing or volleyball, when you win?"

"Probably writing," you answer with a laugh, releasing the weight that just took a break on your shoulders.

"Why?"

"You love volleyball, right? So much that you can't see yourself doing anything but that for the rest of your life?"

He sends another shocked, wide-eyed look your way but you're surprised he doesn't realize how clear that is to read on him, how easily you figured it out really early in the course of your correspondence this past year. You tuck that away for another day and continue your answer to his question.

"I love both like that and, the way I see it, I'm lucky to be able to love more than one thing at a time. And because I do, they'll both always have a place in the future I want. So it's not really that I'm making a choice between one or the other, I'd be incapable of that. Volleyball will always be in my life, even if it isn't the same way it is now. It's just that I'll pursue writing as my vocation while continuing to enjoy volleyball however I can."

"So you won't go pro." He doesn't state it as a question but it sounds like there's still one in there somewhere.

"I don't think so. That's... a little more complicated."

He shifts to turn more towards you, pulling another piece of the cotton candy you're holding between the two of you and encouraging, "I've seen your videos, Y/n. You're as much, if not more, talented than either of your cousins."

You laugh again, "Aren't you a little biased, Oikawa?"

"Sure, but I'm still telling you the truth as I see it. You've already filled the gaps they lack as players, you almost seem to have none. You're part of the powerhouse teams in your region, even country. And you can only improve from there."

"Yeah. But it's not talent or skill or even anything about volleyball itself that makes me so sure about its role in my life."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I promise, I will another day. But I know it'll be a long discussion and I want to hear your answer."

"My answer?"

"Where you want to be after you graduate."

"Don't you already know?" His lips pull up into a confident smile, "Because you said it, Y/n-chan. I can't see myself doing anything but playing volleyball for my future."

"No matter how you get there?"

"No matter how I get there." He confirms, watching you with a tilt to his head, "But I will get there."

"Of that, I have no doubt. I've seen you play, too."

And like that, his smile twists into a satisfied smirk, "Just on video, huh? You still have to come to one of my games in person, though."

"Oh, I do, do I?" You're grinning as the two of you fall back into lighthearted teasing.

"Of course. I think there's still a thing or two I could teach you."

"I'm sure. Without a doubt."

By the time the boat reaches the end of its line, the cotton candy is completely gone, much like any space between you both. The two of you are just short of leaning into each other, your sides already pretty much pressed against each other for most of the fifteen minute ride, as you and Toru talked and joked about various things with only the blinking stars and swaying trees as your witnesses.

You take a deep breath in as your boat approaches the dock, starting to pull away from him slightly, but you also catch the now-familiar scent of some product Toru uses and it smells divine. It's the sort of scent that makes you want to lean into his chest or neck and just relax while he holds you.

Oh my god. You need to slap yourself. That was pathetic, right? And after just one romantic boat ride, holy shit. You still have another hour and a half to go unless you completely bail on him. And for what? Because you caught yourself slipping? Again?

Ugh. No. You're here to be a good friend. And okay, take it slow and see what else could be between the both of you. But that shit wasn't slow.

You've pulled away, physically and metaphorically, by the time your boat docks but you still accept his hand as he helps you off, blocking the attendant yet again. He doesn't pull away though and neither do you, so you're still holding hands as you and Toru walk to your next destination.

Just taking it slow. Right... Shit.

Turns out your next destination is the carousel. You two keep switching horses, messing around until you're politely removed. After which you hit up some of the rides like the one that spins really fast so that you're pressed back against the reclined wall, or the one where you sit in a claw that swings you up, down, around, etc.

Following that, it's mini coasters and then upgraded back to some of your favourite thrill coasters from earlier in the day. You tell him it's a completely different experience at night. After the first one, he agrees. So you two hit up four more.

By the time the two of you get off the last one, teasing and laughing about who was screaming louder (it was him, obviously), you only have a little over twenty minutes left before the park closes. So your hand finds Toru's, your fingers lacing together with ease and electric familiarity by now, and you pull him along in order to run back to the hotel through the remaining crowd.

"Why are we going back?" He's barely even out of breath as he easily catches up to race beside you, but you guess neither are you. Thank you, conditioning.

"It's a surprise!"

The concierge barely startles when he sees two teens just run through, raising his hand to call out before lowering it in defeat. You're already gone anyways. You reach the elevator bay and hit the button for your floor, thankfully the door to the middle one opens immediately with a smooth tone. When the two of you get in for the ride up to the top floor, the pace steadies and you're just looking at each other while you each catch your breath, then you burst out laughing again.

"Okay so you're still not going to tell me?" There's a little bit of mock attitude in his tone but it's washed away by his genuine smile.

"Just wait."

The elevator dings as it reaches your floor and you're pulling him out with the doors barely open. The two of you reach your room and you swipe the card over the lock, opening the door, pulling you both through and closing it in swift motions before letting go of his hand and running to the balcony.

"Come on!"

You look back to encourage him forward as you open the double doors and he strolls up to your side before you both step out together. Just as you reach the rail, faint music starts to drift up from the park's speakers, getting louder and louder until you can hear its strains clearly, playing the orchestral melody that indicates the park will be closing in fifteen minutes.

It's what you can see only from up here that you wanted to show him. Because with the music that plays, there are lights quite literally at every inch of the park that turn on in an incredible show.

Many people gather on the streets or at particular locations for the ground level view. But those are always crowded and honestly a pretty limited view of the show's true scale. It's the guests who have park facing rooms and know to stop for the view from their balconies at this time that experience the true and complete nature of the stunning spectacle.

"Wow." He barely says it, it's more like a word he releases with his breath, but you're so happy knowing you were right.

This is the perfect ending to an incredibly special day that deserves no less. You and Toru stand there, side by side for the full fifteen minutes, still under the carpet of stars that seem a little closer from up here. The two of you hold hands, arms and sides pressed against each other as you both lean on the balustrade and listen to the crescendos and decrescendos, glancing at each other with smiles and the occasional comment. Sometimes pointing to a corner or edge of the park laid out beneath you to pull the other's attention with a tug on your linked hands.

And when the music starts its final rise only to move into its final descent, you look instead at Toru and find him looking back at you. With your hands still linked, you lean into him further to place a soft kiss on his cheek, mirroring the one from a year ago, this on his other side. Then you lean back to look at his flustered but happy face with a soft smile and add your wish for him to your blessing-

"Happy Birthday, Toru."

Prev | Next

Masterlist

Behind The Scenes!

-ngl but that moment when Toru takes a seat in the boat was fully inspired by my memory of him at the Karasuno vs Shiratorizawa match, just after Iwa hops over the seat like wow, but then the way Oikawa stretches out from his previous position... just more wow. Sorry, I can't explain it. I love that scene (and the others with those two that follow) and I don't know if I'm the only one it stuck with like this...

A/N: Okay...time for the vent... I will be the first to say that I love Kuroo and Suna primarily, and both the Miyas are a close second.. but I DO NOT KNOW HOW OIKAWA KEEPS PULLING THIS ON ME like... this whole episode really got away from me again. I mean, I did like Oikawa as a close second to Kuroo (who's been my steady the whole time, js, it's unwavering) for a LONG time before being intro'd to Inarizaki but... then Suna just came in and turned my head until I was like.. Oikawa, who? But maybe this just goes deep, so I didn't know he was always still in there. He IS incredibly lovable after all, you can't change my mind about that, and I really respect him as a complex character and okay, yeah, I honestly can't remember who was my first between him and Kuroo at this point because I was simping for them both before I really even remembered their names (and was trying to avoid being teased by my bf for rewatching scenes with them since he had to bribe me to watch the show in the first place). Anyways, I don't know what I'm saying anymore since I desperately need to go to sleep, maybe for a whole day, so I hope you guys like this one! Because.. just, yeah. Toru <3 I guess

Taglist: @delusivist, @prettyinblack231, @kac-chowsballs, @sakusasimpbot, @hawkthekinnie, @poppi144

[johnismyreason]

Henry - part 3

Yaaaaay it’s finally here ! after over a year, Henry part 3 is finally done ! I plan on writing two more parts, but it depends on the feedbacks I will have from you guys. I really hope you’ll enjoy it :) Please reblog to help me ! 

Read part 1 and 2 :)

Warnings: fluff, angst and few cursing words. Also bad English because I'm French. 

I don't dare to talk anymore for fear of saying something stupid or confessing I'm afraid. I try to look out the window to avoid his gaze. My fingers intertwined between them, I nervously scratch the skin on the edge of my nails. He stares at the road, a very slight smile drawn on his lips. The soft blazing light of the last evenings of September illuminates his face, which seems unchanged to me since his departure. Or maybe it has. In any case, he always gives me the same effect: butterflies in my belly and the feeling of rejuvenation every second that my eyes look at him. And yet he is different. Everything's changed about him, his clothes, his posture, his hair, his name. His name. Mr. Gray. Henry Gray? I don't know.

"Don't you speak?" he cuts me off from my thoughts. I blink quickly to return to reality and smile.

"Oh... I was in my thoughts," I replied, sweeping the air with my hand.

"What were you thinking about?" he turned his head briefly towards me, a curious look on his face and running his tongue over his lips. 

"Nothing important, I was wondering if I had closed everything at home before I left. I wouldn't want to go home and find my house ransacked," I muttered.

"Speaking of home..." Henry turns into a gravel driveway leading to a huge mansion. The lawn on either side of the driveway is meticulously mowed, like a castle. The house is so big, I'm afraid it might swallow me up. I don't say another word and I can't believe Henry can live here.

"Y-you live here?" I stammered, pointing at the house. He bites his lower lip in a smile and gets out of the car. I don't open my door, too surprised to make a move. Henry walked around the car and came to help me down.

"Princess..." he called out to me, holding out his hand. I blushed before I put my palm on his and he closed his fingers on the back of my hand.

"Henry... But how did you manage to afford a house, a palace like this?" I immediately corrected myself.

"I've done good business," he replied simply and guided me inside.

Surprisingly, the interior is more welcoming than the exterior. Despite the size of the entrance hall and other rooms, it is not cold. Henry takes me through each room, each one more splendid but still warm, before ending with his favourite: the library, which also serves as his office. It opens onto a terrace which itself leads to the garden, a huge plot of land that is just as well mowed as the front of the house.

"It's beautiful here, Henry," I said as I scanned the grounds, which stretch as far as the eye can see. I feel his presence behind and beside me, and his eyes glued to my face.

"Do you like it?"

"Do I like it?" I chuckled as I turned to him. "Who wouldn't love this place?" I draw closer to him. His smile gets bigger with every step I take toward him. "You must have done more than good business to be able to afford a place like this. Better than that poor sheep you sold for a pittance at the village market, remember?" I laughed.

"Y/N can you stop harping on that story every time we see each other?" he exhaled as he tilted his head back.

"Never. I can still see the look on your mother's face when you told her the news. She could have gutted you if she didn't love you so much." Henry changes his facial expression slightly when I mention his mother, but I don't pay attention to it. "Besides... we don't see each other that often," I continued in a less jovial tone. He took a deep breath and looked away. "Do you want something to drink?" he asked to change the subject. I nodded. "Whiskey? Scotch? Wine?"

"Um, just tea." I cut him off.

"Oh, all right... don't move, I got this." he walks out of the room, closing the door behind him, leaving me alone in the silence. I take the opportunity to explore the library and its collection of books. There were all kinds. Novels, historical works, poetry, encyclopedias... It's strange, I don't remember Henry reading so much. Even though he was the best at school, the boy I knew preferred math to literature. But he's not the boy I knew anymore, I remember. Henry comes back, but without any tea.

"The water's getting hot," he replied to my questioning air. He walks towards the pedestal table where the bottles of alcohol and glasses are laid out to help himself to a whiskey. "Tell me," he begins, "what hospital do you work in?" he turns to me, bringing the glass to his lips.

"Oh, it's actually halfway between Birmingham and home - um, my home." I catch up. "in the new hospital they've just built" I sit on the couch in front of the desk.

"When do you start?" he joins me.

"A week from today. I can't wait !" he smiles at my enthusiasm. "It was my dream to become a nurse."

"I know," he said, putting a lock of my hair back behind my ear, "I remember." His voice is so soft and soothing, I could fall asleep in his arms. " Besides, it was always you who thought of my wounds," he laughed.

"You had a gift for finding yourself in unlikely situations." I reply. "That seems to always be the case," his hand, which continued to caress my hair, fell behind me on the back. He looks at me intensely and hesitates to speak. The tension gradually increases but is still bearable. Silence surrounds us and I don't know who will break it first.

"I'm sorry Y/N." I expected anything but that from him. "I'm sorry I left without saying anything, not even goodbye. Sorry I left my mom behind, my friends and especially you." my heart feels good and I can feel my cheeks change color. "You more than anyone. I should have talked to you, told you what was going on. I didn't have the courage. Forgive me." He's not angry or sad. He's just relieved to finally say what's been in his heart for five long years.

"What was going on, Henry?" I asked, thinking he was finally going to tell me every last detail.

"Your tea, Mr. Gray" presents the maid as he opens the door. I was startled when I didn't hear him come into the room, and then that name came to my ears. Mr. Gray.

"Thank you, Therese, you may go." he says, looking at me. When the door closes behind her, I stand up at once, freeing myself from Henry's grip. I mean Mr. Gray. Good heavens!

"All right, you must tell me something," I say, breathing heavily, running a hand through my hair. "Who the fuck is Mr. Gray?!" I freeze incapable of moving.

"Y/N..." Henry stands up to get closer but I reach out my hand to pull him away from me.

"Don't even try to bullshit me Henry" I warn him.

"My name is not Henry. It's not my real name." he starts to explain. I'm so confused and lost, I can barely breath.

"What are you telling me? I've called you Henry all my life, your mother, your father, everybody calls you that!"

"My real name is Michael Gray. My family is not my real family, Y/N. I was adopted shortly after I was born. My real mother's name is Polly Gray. One day my cousin Thomas Shelby came to meet me at my house, a week before I turned 18. I'd never seen him before, I didn't know who he was. When my mother and I came home, she told me everything. I felt like shit. I had a thousand questions and no answers. I wanted answers. So I went to Birmingham one day, to find my real mother. I met my real family, their business, their money, and I never wanted to go back. So on my 18th birthday, I left this lost village, this well that I've always hated, everything and everyone."

His voice was steady and his hands in his pocket. I didn't dare move, breathe or even look away for a second. All this information is projected in my face and I try as best I can to receive it without everything collapsing around me.

"Your real mother, your real family... But we are your real family Henry!"

"Michael." He corrects me curtly. "My name is and always has been Michael." My lips tremble and the tears at the edge of my eyes threaten to fall into the void.

"So you left just for the money and the fame. I know who Thomas Shelby is. You turned into a fucking gangster and abandoned me." my voice trembles, I try to hold back the tears.

"I wanted to tell you about it Y/N-"

"Bullshit!" I slap his hand that was trying to take mine. "You left without saying anything because that's exactly what you wanted. You killed Henry. You killed the only boy I ever loved." This time I can't hold back my tears. What's the point?

His eyes go wide open at my confession. He walks timidly towards me so I won't reject him, but I don't have the strength to do so. He places his hands on my cheeks so that I look at him. Mine cling to his wrists.

"Y/N, I'm sorry for the pain I've caused you. You were and always will be my family. Y/N..." he wipes my tears and gently lifts my head to look into mine. "I thought about you every day that God made. I wanted to call you, write to you, but as time went by, I told myself it was no longer worth it. I was afraid you'd reject me. Y/N... I love you." I breathe out the breath I was holding in and look down. "Look at me, Y/N, look at me. I don't want to lie to you anymore and leave. Meeting you at the train station like you fell out of the sky, after 5 years, it was a blessing. That's got to mean something. I won't go anymore Y/N. It's over. I won't go away anymore." Our foreheads meet and I try to breathe but nothing goes in or out. It's me and him. Five years and confessions later. Our lips are drawn together, but they're not touching yet. God, I want to feel those lips. They're only a few millimeters away now. Come on, just a little more.

"I can't." I exhale as I pull myself away from his hands. "I can't," I repeat in a whisper... I leave the room, then the hall and finally this house which has finally managed to swallow me up. I don't bother to get my coat or my bag and I leave. I walk down this huge gravel driveway with my heart ready to explode. I cry without holding back, my moans break the peaceful silence of the countryside that I could not appreciate because of the drums in my ears that my heart is playing. I realize what has just happened. I find my childhood friend and the only boy for whom my heart has ever beaten, I discover that he is not the real son of this mother I admired, and that he preferred money to me. But there he is. Right next to me. And it's the only thing I ever wanted. For him to be near me, with me. It's him and me. And he loves me, I know he does. I stop walking at this reflection and turn around to look at the house. Without thinking any more I turn around and run back to where my reason has left me. I go back through the hall, the hallway and arrive quietly in the library. Hands on his desk, head down, it is as if he is waiting for his punishment.

"Michael," he straightens up immediately and turns to me. Unconsciously my feet move towards him, then my hands reach up to his waist so that finally my lips are crushed on his. And I breathe. His warm hands have an electroshock effect on my icy cheeks. My head spins, our pulses are the same and his arms hug me tightly against him.

"It's you and me, Michael. You and me," I whisper to him.

"Henry. Call me Henry."

TAGLIST: @fandom--0verdose @haphazardhufflepuff @enjoy-the-destruction @lovemissyhoneybee @xshinytrashcanx @lifesacrime24 @estefmsxo @smallheathgangsters @peakyfuckingblinders1919 

[kinetic-elaboration]

September 8: Homecoming Dance

Wrote another HAICG ficlet! Could probably use more editing but tbh I’m going to crash at pretty much any moment so I’m just gonna throw it out there. Maybe I’ll fix it up some more before putting it on AO3.

This is for @ellavere who asked for Kirk and Spock being embarrassing parents.

Post-5 year mission, ~1600 words

*

Sevin leans in closer toward the mirror, adjusting the knot in his tie one more time. Logically, objectively, he knows that it’s already perfectly straight, and that he should leave it alone. But he can't stop himself from fidgeting with it.

"It's fine, you know," a voice behind him declares. "You look great."

He doesn't turn around, but he does watch in the mirror as his dad stands up, and walks over from the bed to stand behind him. He rests his hands briefly on Sevin's shoulders, smoothing out invisible wrinkles in his jacket. Sevin is in his parents' bedroom, because they have the only full-length mirror in the apartment. But he's wishing he'd just stolen the mirror and set it up in his own room, because at least then he'd have an excuse to tell his dad to get out of his space.

Being alone with his own unfettered anxiety would be easier. Not comparing himself to his confident, handsome, Starfleet Captain parent would be easier. His dad is smiling at him in the mirror like he's the proudest person in the universe, and Sevin can barely remember to keep his shoulders straight. And he won't remember anything else, either, like how to act or what to say, and his suit is the right size, but feels like it’s much too small.

"This is dumb," he says, instead of trying to explain the rest. "I should—I should tell her I'm sick—"

"No! No, you're fine and you're going to have fun. Spock—!"

Sevin glances at the mirror again, at the bit of movement from the hall that caught his dad's attention. Jim is waving Spock over, drawing him into the room.

"What do you think? Doesn't he look great?"

Sevin half-turns so that he's facing both of his parents now, his dad still grinning and his father, next to him with his arms crossed, and what any human would think was an inscrutable expression on his face, deeply and seriously considering. "You look very handsome," he says finally, seriously, and reaches out to straighten the knot in Sevin's tie.

"It's already straight," he insists, with a hint of a whine, and his father just raises his eyebrows innocently.

"I must admit, I still do not fully understand the concept of the high school dance," he says, and Sevin rolls his eyes, because he knows this isn't true. His father does understand. He just doesn't entirely approve. Sevin's not sure if this disapproval is his protective streak showing through or just the way he sets himself apart from purely Terran rituals—or if it's no more than the usual parental denial that his little boy is a full fifteen years old. But if his father forbade him to attend the Fall Homecoming Dance, he wouldn't even put up a fight about it.

"Oh, they're great," his dad answers, while Sevin pulls at his jacket sleeves. "A real coming-of-age thing for Earth kids. You go to a crowded, stuffy gym, decorated with streamers and balloons, and stand around by the bleachers and drink unnaturally flavored punch, and sometimes dance a little, and try to avoid seeing too much of the chaperones."

Spock raises his eyebrows again, the corner of his mouth pulled sideways, his eyes starting to narrow. He is immensely amused. "That does not sound 'great.'"

“He means ‘terrible,’” Sevin mutters, in Vulcan.

Jim doesn’t hear him, but he considers a moment, then admits, "No, it's awful. But," he adds, turning back to Sevin, "also important. Rite of passage, like I said."

"Did you actually have fun at any of the dances you went to?" Sevin asks.

"I did. Once, my sophomore year. I went with my girlfriend at the time, and it was actually pretty decent. Plus, I bet a San Francisco high school dance is a step up from a Riverside High dance, so—" He reaches out, claps Sevin once on the arm. "You'll have fun."

"You will have to tell me about your experiences," his father adds, "as I have never been to such an event, and I am very curious."

"Or dad could just tell you about his and I could stay home," Sevin mumbles. His parents are already standing with their two forefingers touching, which they do almost any time they're in reach of one another, and they don't even seem to hear his comment, because his dad says:

"It's too bad we didn't sign up to be chaperones. Then you could see for yourself."

Sevin fully expects his father to protest, as he himself is protesting—"Oh, no, I don't think you'd have any fun"—but Spock seems to be giving the idea serious thought. He's tilted his head to the side, watching Jim with a careful, appraising, subtly pleased look.

"That would be an interesting experience. Of course, I do not dance—"

"That's a lie. You dance. We've danced."

"That was on a diplomatic mission and thus not comparable."

Sevin's dad is wrapping an arm around his father's waist, pulling him close, only half-joking as he drops his voice a little lower:

"What about our wedding?"

He feigns shock. "A special occasion."

"Okay—can you just—?"

They stop abruptly, almost nose to nose; both turn to him but do not disengage. Spock, at least, looks faintly embarrassed. But Jim just grins.

They are always like this. Sevin can imagine them, showing up to the dance, probably in the dress uniforms that are their only conception of fancy outfits, completely failing to police amorous teenagers because they're too caught up in their own little romantic bubble. As if fairy lights and wilted balloons really set a mood. He has a sudden fantasy of one of his teachers, perhaps Ms. York from Physics, forcibly disentangling them and chiding them for their bad example, and it almost makes him laugh.

"You can't be chaperones anyway, because who would watch Selen?" he asks, proud of himself for his logic.

His parents exchange a glance. "A babysitter," his dad says.

"Nyota, perhaps. Or Dr. McCoy," his father adds.

"Oh, well, too bad they have all the chaperones they need. Maybe another time." Another time, when he stays home with the baby, and they enjoy last year's pop hits echoing drearily in a poorly lit gym. Before either of them can answer, the doorbell sounds, and he's flooded with an intense and refreshing sense of relief.

The relief is followed just as quickly with a twist of nerves so intense, he's half-sure he's about to be sick. Do regular humans feel this way, he wonders, this strongly, or is the strength of his emotions part of his Vulcan heritage? And what mental barriers or strategies could possibly hold the Vulcan version of adolescent confusion at bay?

"I'll get it," he says, in the half-second's pause that follows. That's his date. His date and this is really happening but it will probably be fine--it's just a dance! It's just a dance. Something to laugh about when he's thirty and high school is just a series of anecdotes from his past.

He gets two steps toward the door before his dad reaches out, grabs him by the shoulder, and turns him around. He rests his hands on Sevin's forearms, and looks at him seriously, right in the eye. His dad's go-to move for weighted moments. He'd like to squirm out of the grip, and he could—he's twice as strong as his dad, at least—but in a sense more important than the physical, he is completely incapable.

"Dad, what—?"

"Just wait a moment, okay? I know you have to go. I just wanted to tell you that I've been to these dances and I know that sometimes...the night goes in a direction you don't expect, so... I want you to be prepared. No sex without safe sex, right?

He can feel his face turning red, like a tomato. Like a furnace. He is going to overheat and then faint. Maybe if he tries hard enough he can sink into the floor.

"Dad."

"I know! Dad, so embarrassing. Just promise me, okay?"

He wriggles himself out of the grip at last, ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck with his hand. He can feel his father staring at them both. "I'm—You don't have to worry because I'm not having sex, okay? I'm... not in the same galaxy as having sex."

He glances at his father, stone-faced and tense, his mouth a thin and impassive line.

"He's not having sex," Jim says, as if to translate, and Spock nods, once.

"Good."

Even to Sevin's ears, it sounds like a threat.

Luckily, the doorbell rings again, and he's saved from further embarrassment—of the parental variety, at least.

"I really have to get that!" he says, and half-sprints from the room.

Three steps down the hall, he realizes both of his parents are following him, and he turns abruptly on his heel, almost running into his father in the process.

"What are you doing?"

"Meeting your date," his father answers.

"And taking pictures," his dad adds.

Sevin opens his mouth to argue, but one look at his parents' faces, and he knows he's already staring down defeat. "Just one picture," he insists, as he starts walking toward the door again.

"Three," his dad counters, while his father suggests, "Perhaps four," and Sevin starts calculating the odds that they will scare away his date before he even gets her out of the building.

The outlook appears, at first, bleak, but they are ultimately in his favor. 

[codename-bewareofthefangirl]

Hi hi!! AkaMido anon here! I'm in need of some...you know...Akashi in love with Midorin. *blushes crazily and hides my face to your chest* So I wanted to ask, is it possible to ask for more than 1 prompt? I mean, if you accept ofcourse, can I have a (longish?) fic with #16sentence, #12dialogue and #14dialogue all in one together? Maybe break my heart for a long while then a small promising-happy-ending? I love the way you write internal monologues btw ^-^

Hi my sweetdear! *pat happily his head* I’ve finally written it! Sorry for the wait! Iswear, I’ve tried to make it angsty but the fluff and the fun conqueredeverything and I don’t know why, I hope you’re gonna like it either way. Thanks also for yourcontinue support!

Have a goodday!

 In the most inappropriate moments

 Midorima groaned again, shifting uncomfortably in hisposition, seated on the hard ground.

“Shouldn’t we try to move again?” Akashi whisperedhesitantly, seated a bit far from him.

“Akashi, please.” The other growled and his formercaptain stretched the lips in a thin line, “This is all your fault.”

“I disagree.”

“That’s because your pride is too big to admit it. AllI know is that one of us is right, the other is you.”

Just to describe their situation briefly, they werefucked.

It was half past ten in the night and they were lostinto a woods, without signal, a decent backpack, food or water. Not mentioningwithout a proper map. And, Akashi had sprained his ankle falling in hole whilethey were wandering around with only torchlights to light up the path.

Ah, they were obviously arguing too.

They had started arguing five minutes after havingentered the wood, fact that brought them to focus more on their unresolvedproblems than on the path and consequently lead them to lose the way back. Or theway in general.

Why did this happened?

Simple answer: because Akashi couldn’t act like anormal person, no. He, having decided that he wanted to fix up things withMidorima, had first organized a training camp with all the former players ofthe Miracle of Generation, without leaving them choice to participate or not.He had threatened them to come. Then the previous night he had, or that waswhat Midorima thought, food poisoned all the others so that the next day theonly ones capable to raise from the bed were them two. Finally, in theafternoon he had dragged Midorima away with the excuse of the good weather andthe necessity of a daytrip in the woods to a famous, mysterious shrine.Midorima couldn’t even understand why Akashi had thought that talking thingsout while going on an excursion was the best idea, but now he didn’t even wannaknow.

He was cold, without ideas and hungry.

And mad, so mad with Akashi that if the boy hadn’t hadalready hurt his body by himself Midorima would have surely done it in his stead.

Even because, during the time they spent together,instead of clearing the past misunderstandings, they had just accused eachother of every, petty things that happened since the first year in Teikou. Notreally useful.

 In the end, tired of the silence, the hostility andthe guilt, Akashi tried to stand up, wobbling. Midorima glared at him.

“What are you trying to do?” asked while looking athim resting unsteady against the trunk of the tree they took cover under.

“I’m going to find the way out,” he calmly repliedwith all the dignity he could muster, “Staying here doesn’t help us.” Commentedsharply.

“I doubt that moving around with that ankle andinjuring yourself more is gonna be of any help.” Midorima replied bluntly,fixing his glass. As always, a small part of him admired Akashi for hisdetermination.

“Then come with me and let’s search it together.” Heoffered, giving Midorima his back. But the other boy didn’t need to see hisface to recognize the implicit request into his words. What an Emperor.

“If you need help, just say it normally.” Hissed,standing up and grabbing his arm to stop him, and the boy grimaced, “As youshould have done instead of bringing us here. Really, can’t you do anythinglike the other, normal people?” Added salty, passing an arm around his waist.

Akashi adjusted his own arm around Midorima’s shoulderand leaned on him, as his ankle was throbbing with pain; not that he was gonnaadmit it.

“Everything would have gone smoothly, if you only hadlet me speak till the end.” He murmured in his defense, offended.

“You started a monologue were you defended yourself.That’s not how discussions go, nor how you fix up things.” Midorima bluntlyshut him, starting to walk without a proper aim. All the trees looked the same,he didn’t remember where they came from nor how read those damn stars like ananimal.

“While you walk, keep the phone in your hand, maybe wecould find signal.” Midorima ordered with a sigh and Akashi, scowling did as hewas told.

“I was just trying to find the right words.” He upheld,“You interrupted me immediately and brought up again my madness and “abuse ofpower”.”

“That’s was he problem. Together with cutting everybonds, using us only to win and destroying our minds.” Midorima listed plainly,taking a casual turn; he felt Akashi’s body stiffening against him, butcontinued, “Without mentioning your behavior during the first high schooltournament, you Emperor. Not even a handshake.” he remembered in a mutter andnow Akashi caught the hurt tone in his voice.

“Well, I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it all. Andwhen I finally understood my mistakes, returning to my original self, it hurt alot. I knew that I couldn’t restore everything easily, I understood the amountof pain I’ve inflicted to you…but I was lonely too. I suffered too.” Explainedanimatedly, gripping hard around the fabric of his sweater.

“Want do you want then? That we just hug you again andpity you?” Midorima roared, still feeling the humiliation he caused him intheir last match.

“I JUST WANT TO APOLOGIZE!” Akashi burst into apained, angry yell that startled Midorima, who immediately turned to look atthe boy who kept his head low.

“You what?” Mumbled, blinking at him. He probably hadheard wrongly.

Akashi lifted his head and looked him in the eyes,firm and desperate at the same time.

“I wanted to apologize.” Repeated in a murmur, “I’msorry for having left you alone back in Teikou. Sorry for having betrayed yourtrust. I’m sorry for having been the Emperor. I’m sorry for having underestimatedand belittled your team, refusing your handshake. I’m really sorry.” Heearnestly apologized, trying to convey with his stuttering words the guilt thatwas eating him from the inside.

Midorima didn’t have words to reply. He wasn’t readyto confront an apologizing Akashi. He couldn’t even remember the last time hehad apologized.

“I thought that maybe we could start restoring newbonds again. That’s why I brought all of you here, that’s why I dragged you intothis damn wood, that’s why this afternoon I started talking from the past. Ihad a lots of things to say and explain, and lots that I wanted to ask…” Hisvoice dimmed in a whisper.

Midorima’s glasses slide down his nose and he feltblushing. Now, he was the one feeling guilty.

“Akas-”

HONK!

A big truck sounded its horn and made them jump ontheir feet; they got so startled that Akashi lost the grip around Midorima andfell on his back before the other boy could catch him in time. Midorima widenedhis eyes, looking astonished in front of him, while Akashi looked around as ifhe was waking up from a dream.

“We are…out?” he observed incredulous, frowning at thesight of the empty, silent street on which side they were standing dumbfounded.

“I think so.” Midorima agreed, instinctively cleaninghis glasses with the hem of the shirt.

“How?” Akashi inquired shaking his head.

“I wasn’t paying attention, actually.”

“Me neither.”

They exchanged an amazed glance and twin smirksblossomed on their lips.

“I can’t believe it.” Midorima whispered trying toconceal his amusement.

“But we didn’t arrive from here this afternoon, sowe’re still lost.” Akashi noticed, narrowing his eyes.

“Better than being in that wood.” Midorima exhaled adeep breath of relief, shrugging, and stretched his hand to Akashi.

“So? Now what?” the boy accepted it gratefully andstood up, unsteady.

“I don’t know. I didn’t think we’d get this far.”Midorima honestly admitted, “The phone?” asked hopefully, but Akashi grimacedlooking at the screen.

“It seems the battery has run out.” Told him blanklyand Midorima felt the need to slam his head against something.

“Well, since you can’t walk, we can only tryhitch-hiking.” Dared to say, fixing his glasses and Akashi sighed, exhaustedly,but nodded.

 After fifteen minutes, they were luckily sat in theopen trailer of a small truck; the driver, a local farmer, after laughing attheir misadventures, had kindly accept to bring them to the hotel, which theydiscovered was two hour by foot far away from there. Midorima had picked upAkashi and helped him sitting comfortably, and now they were in silence next toeach other.

Midorima looked at the pearly moon that shinedbrightly in the sky. He was still thinking about what Akashi had told him,knowing the boys was waiting for an answer. Now, all the negative and confusedemotions he felt before were melting in the quietness of the dark blue sky.

“Akashi.” called and felt him shifting nervouslybeside himself, “All the things you wanted to say and explain. All the thingsyou wanted to ask, tell me. We’ve time, I’ll try my best to not interrupt you.”Midorima offered, searching for his red, amazed eyes.

“I-” He stuttered confusedly, happiness for havingreceived a second occasion and fear of messing up again mixed in him, but thenhe took a deep breath, “Okay.” He manage to reply quietly.

And Akashi told him everything from the start. Thecoach, his fears, the situations of his family and the issues he had with hisfather. He told him how he felt losing himself, being incapable to reason andto care about them properly. How victory became the only important thing. Hearrived talking even about the recent matches: the jealousy he felt seeing himand Takao pairing up, the high due to the crushing victory and finally the voidhe fell into when he returned to his original self. Scared that it was toolate. Scared that he couldn’t be saved or forgiven anymore. He listed patientlyall his attempts to find a way to restore things as they were before, to fixall of them again.

Midorima listened to him silently, just making smallcomments here and there.

“So, this was the last attempt to bring us together?”Asked Midorima thoughtfully. It was a lot to take in, of course, but he wasfeeling more and more relieved as Akashi told him everything. He wasdiscovering that the boy he had loved was still there.

“Yes.” Akashi nodded with an embarrassed smile, “Ithought it was a good idea.”

“That’s questionable.” Midorima harshly shot him down andhe glared, “However, I have to think then that yesterday you didn’t food-poisonedthe others on purpose?”

“I’m not a killer.” Akashi coldly replied, offended,and Midorima smirked.

“You tried to stab Kagami with a pair of scissors.”Reminded him, arching an eyebrow.

“First, I thought we had agreed I wasn’t completelymyself at the time;” argued lifting his chin, “Second, I knew he could dodge.”He wanted to add, “Because I’m never wrong.” But bit his bottom lip andrestrained himself. He was trying to be humble.

However, Midorima seemed to have read him, as hechuckled a bit.

“Leaving this aside, why the trip outside then?”inquired again and he saw Akashi blushing slightly.

“You were the one I desired to connect with the most.I needed to have you back. I hoped the excursion could bring us together andmake the tension vanish. I hoped being outside and far from everything elsecould help me find the courage to tell you everything and apologize properly.”Whispered bitter sweetly, bringing his knees to the chest “Not the best plan inthe end.”

“Yeah it was a horrible plan, you should haveapproached me like this from the start.” Midorima agreed, making him curl onhimself more, but then continued, “But if that is what you needed to reach thispoint, than I’m glad to have gone through and survived that hell.”

Akashi’s head perked up and his scarlet eyes shone.

“I’m relieved” thanked him with a small, grateful andgiddy smile, “Losing Midorima’s friendship had been my greatest defeat andregret.” Admitted softly, looking with fondness at the sky.

His words froze Midorima on the spot.

He had forgotten Akashi was born to be charming andadorable when he lowered his defenses.

“You…!” he cursed rubbing his forehead and Akashiglanced at him perplexed, “You are the worst. You should stop saying those kindof things.” Growled, glaring at him.

Akashi blinked: what had he done now? He thought tohave been sweet or at least friendly saying those things, why Midorima was mad?

“What kind of things?” asked confused, his heart onthe verge of shattering.

“The kind that makes me want to kiss you in the mostinappropriate moments.” Midorima revealed with red cheeks but a firm,unwavering gaze.

Akashi heart didn’t shatter. It stopped. Then startedbeating again so fast it could fly out of his chest.

He blushed furiously, taken completely by surprise.

“Like, for example, in the trailer of a truck in themiddle of the night, after a day spent arguing?” wanted to verify, in a hopefulvoice. This was too good to be true.

“Exactly.” Midorima assured him, embarrassed, annoyedand nervous altogether.

“Then,” Akashi whispered with a smile escaping hislips, “I wouldn’t mind it.”

Midorima risked to choke with his own saliva, butmanaged to compose himself rapidly.

“You asked for it. I’m not joking.” Mumbled as awarning, but, seeing Akashi looking expectantly at him under the moonlight, hecouldn’t restrain himself. He leaned towards him and, with a kiss, cleared thepast misunderstandings and opened the doors to a future of happiness for bothof them.