#i will also be the most boring host to ever host BUT u will not have to pay for a hotel sooooo

[reikunrei]

if i have my own place by the time s5 comes out and they do a premier event in la i hereby offer up my abode for my st mutuals to crash at so that we can all go together

[kisses4kaia]

on my knees, foaming at the mouth, begging for more sub coryo

u guys are so funny oh my goodness😭 (slight au where sejanus did not die because we love him🥰) i got a bit carried away as you can see!! but that’s ok !!!! also, university!corio .. okok go read now plz enjoy and reblog :)

being the girlfriend of the winner to the plinth prize whilst simultaneously biting your tongue constantly was no easy feat.

every thoughtless, careless, borderline sexist, comment corio received from older men—and even some of your male peers—along the lines of, “oh, she’s a pretty little thing, isn’t she? bet you keep her on her knees, huh?” (whilst you were right there, mind you!), infuriated you beyond belief and typically made corio tense up and awkwardly brush them off.

because no, corio did not always keep you on your knees. as a matter of fact, it was quite the opposite. you had him on his knees, every night, begging and pleading for a taste of you. and if he was a good boy, he would get one. you were assertive, not cruel.

you so badly wished you could shut them down, tell them exactly how it is, but you still loved and respected corio, and you knew what might happen to his reputation if that kind of secret got out.

so you kept on biting your tongue.

and tonight, corio’s arm is snaked around your torso and his large palm rests on the small of your back.

you’re at a elite party he was invited to, making friendly conversation with clemensia and sejanus while throwing witty comments back and forth with your boyfriend, when all of a sudden, one of crassus snow’s old friends come up to the both of you and it goes how you would expect; however, this time, something’s different.

this time, he laughs boisterously and nods, agreeing with the crude comment the man made. coriolanus shakes his hand and says “oh, absolutely. would you expect any less from my father’s son?”

you are fucking appalled, and the astounded expression on your face doesn’t do much to hide it.

when the old man whose name you didn’t bother to remember finally leaves, corio finally looks down at you to see your narrow eyes shooting daggers into his.

you say no words and storm off, and he’s hot on your trail. “baby? baby, hold up, slow down!”

you heed no mind to his words, and only stop your stampede when you find an unoccupied bedroom and drag him inside.

it was glamorous, which was to be expected, considering the host of the party was volumnia gaul; she always was one for dramatic flare. the ceiling was high and the walls were crowned in gold paint. the layout was simple, there was nothing but a queen-sized bed, an empty dresser, and bare vanity gracing its presence, all but proving that it was not it use, and perfectly fine for you to punish coriolanus in.

“what the fuck was that?” your voice is scornful and with the way your face twists up and contorts into a look of contempt, he knows he’s in for it.

he stumbles over his words, trying to think of a way he can phrase his words to deescalate the situation, lessen the blow for himself. “i-i’m sorry. i don’t know what i was thinking. please, honey. please forgive me. i’m begging you,”

the last phrase causes you to look up at him before smirking wickedly, “are you?”

you can see it dawn on him, the realization that you really are going to make him beg—the proper way, down on his knees.

he sighs ashamedly before letting his knees buckle, right one hitting the ground, the left following suit.

the slicked back hair on his scalp gleams perfectly underneath the warm overhead lighting the small chandelier provides, and his glossy, devastatingly blue, eyes are boring into yours as his bottom lip begins to quiver ever so slightly.

“i’m so, so, so, fucking, sorry. i’m so stupid, i just didn’t want him to think lowly of my fathers kin. i fucked up, i know, just, please, please, forgive me,”

he sounds like he’s on the verge of tears when he speaks and you can’t help but revel in how hot this all is. having one of the most powerful men in the capitol at your feet, pleading for you, you have to work hard in order to conceal the ache between your legs.

“show me, then.” you turn around on him and walk to the bed, sitting, before crossing your legs and leaning back, dangerous, siren eyes inviting corio to crawl to you.

he doesn’t even hesitate before getting on his hands and knees and desperately pawing at the ground, trying to get close to you again. and when he reaches your sat figure, he grabs your ankles, uncrossing them and pulling your high heels off slowly, all before kissing his way up your calf, and up to your mid-thigh, where the slit in your dress begins. he looks up at you pleadingly, expression reading ‘may i?’ and you could praise him for being so polite if he wasn’t enduring punishment.

you nod slightly, raising your hips just enough so corio could hike your dress up, bunching up at your waist.

his eyes stay on yours, watching you intently as he pulls your delicate, lacy, black and pink, panties down your smooth legs, before gently placing them on the floor next to him.

when you part your legs ever so slightly, the eyes boring into yours spark up with excitement and hope. he finally breaks eye contact when he shuts his eyes and lays his tongue flat against your cunt, lapping up the ego-boosting amount of arousal that’s drooling from your achy hole.

he’s so perfect for you, timing his transitions between fucking into you with his tongue and sucking on your clit just the way he’s learned you like just right, never lingering too long on one part of you.

at this point, you have your legs wrapped around his head tight, nearly restricting his facility to breathe, shamelessly moaning and praising his ministrations. “fuck, yes corio! oh fuck, you’re gonna make me cum? yeah? so fucking pathetic,” you spit at him in between borderline moans so pornographic that you’re apprehensive that somebody outside of the four walls you’re in may hear you, but it doesn’t seem to bother you that much, considering the lack of you lowering your own volume.

and the sounds, the sounds are vile, fucking disgusting. his salivated muscle messily dragging all over your labia, his perfectly pouted lips making out with your pussy like he’s in love with it (he is). all of the insanely erotic factors of this moment don’t do anything to hold off your impending release, and with a weak cry of the boy beneath you’s name, sweet syrup leaks out from your tight hole lands onto corio’s anticipating tongue, and you can feel him smile against you at the taste of it.

he drinks it all down in no time and when he continues to lather his tongue all over your clit, not seeming to want to be done, you have to physically pull his head away from you as a result of overstimulation.

he frowns but when he sees the look on your face, your exhausted, satisfied, fucked-out, face, he has to bite his lip to contain his smile.

“i did good?” there’s a special twinkle to his eye, and you find it all-enamoring.

“so good,”

“you forgive me?”

“yes, but next time you pull some shit like that, i’ll jerk you off under the dinner table, you hear me?”

[spookygingerr]

Tag Game Wednesday

this wednesday's tag game is hosted by yours truly, and we're talking hairrrr 👩🏻‍🦰

what is your current hair like?

i now have peachy ginger hair, maybe i need to change my name to spookypeachyy. it's not too long right now as i had a good chop but its reaches like halfway down the top of my arms. i've been doing a wavy hair method a lot recently which i love

what is your natural hair like?

i think a lot of people think i'm a natural ginger so i'm here to shatter that illusion. i actually have that 'dark blonde, light brown hair'. if i let is dry naturally it's mostly straight but kind of puffy with some waves at the back. i used to hate having such 'boring' in between hair but i love it now. it can easily be styled straight or wavy, it holds curls from a curly wand and it also holds colour really well. in other words it's versatile which i love because i like to play around with it a lot.

what’s you favourite hair style/colour you’ve had?

it would have to be what i currently have. i did have black box dye during university though and that is a very close second. it was very fun and made me very happy at the time.

what hair style/colour do you find most attractive on other people? (if you have a preference)

i love brunettes, i think super rich brown hair is so gorgeous!

what’s your biggest hair regret?

even though i just said that the black box dye was my second favourite hair, it's also my biggest hair regret because i had it when i worked at an american summer camp. i couldn't really do regular touch ups on my roots since i was staying in a bunk with campers but the pennsylvania sun turned my roots blonde which was not a good look for me with the black hair!

what’s the longest your hair as ever been?

my hair was sooo long in high school (waist length). i got over 11 inches off just before prom and donated it, kinda wish i waited a few weeks though and had my long hair at prom!

what’s the shortest your hair has ever been?

probably like collar bone length!

what’s your go to style when you’re due a hair wash?

i love a messy bun when my hair needs washing! or french braids with leave in conditioner in!

tags below the cut

@gallapiech @roryonic @em-harlsnow @transmurderbug @ian-galagher

@jrooc @creepkinginc @sleepyfacetoughguy @celestialmickey @mickittotheman

@mickeym4ndy @lee-ow @transmickey @transsexual-dandelions

@callivich @blue-disco-lights @thepupperino @sirrudo @burninface

@suzy-queued @doshiart @crossmydna @energievie @jademickian

@the-rat-wins @bawlbrayker @pookiebearmick @kandyzee @spacerockwriting

@vintagelacerosette @gallavichsuperfan @stocious @iandarling @darlingian

@sam-loves-seb @especially-fuk-u @fendeavor @kiennilove @wehangout

@tanktopgallavich @deedala @michellemisfit @mybrainismelted @sgtmickeyslaughter

@nozenfordaddy @deathclassic

[aliveinacoffin]

I feel like ur getting bored of just writing aizawa so can u write about either present mic or Deku (or anyone u want i won’t mind!) and just write about them. It could be about anything! I love ur fics so much I wouldn’t mind! Thank you 💗

Omg ty sm! You're so nice 😭 I don't mind! But it's definitely nice to write other stuff. You're literally so nice omg I could just smooch you 😭😭

You're Not Just Him

Hizashi x F!Reader

Your husband deserves a break, and you're the one who needs him to drag him away from work to do so.

Feel like I punish my little guys too much, so here's a cute lil' family fic for you lmao

Hizashi Yamada and Present Mic were two very different people. One was a very famous night radio host who also doubled as an English teacher, who also doubled as a pro hero. The other?

A big doofus who so happens to be your husband. And the father of your children, how unfortunate.

"Presentation Micheal!" You called out, using your mom voice™ on him. You were standing in front of him, hands on your hips while you blocked the view of the TV in front of him. Your two older kids, Kanato and Carmen froze on the spot. They took one glance at one another before sneaking off into their rooms.

"Y-yes, honey?" Hizashi gulped out, a sweet smile twisted up nervously.

"¿Qué es eso? What is that?" You swept your hand across the dark coffee table. You looked at him with a deep frown.

"Uh, work?" He replied nervously. His hair which was usually slicked up was now hanging loosely around his shoulders, all over the place. Most people didn't fully realize how long his hair was, it reached to the middle of his back, thick and luxurious. It was a real pain in the ass to wash.

"And may I ask you why you're doing work on your day off?" Your voice was dangerous now, a scary look came across your face. You looked terrifying, as if there was a dark shadow covering your scowling face.

"W-well! I just have a lot of paperwork to catch up on and-!" He started to defend himself, sweat building up as he waved his hands about.

You sighed, cutting him off, and looked up at him with a gentle look. "You promised you'd spend the day with us. It's a long weekend Hiz', take advantage of that!" You scolded lightly, coming around to sit next to him. You brought your hands to cup his face, slightly rubbing away the deep creases in his forehead.

He sighed, looking down at your bulging belly. You were seven months pregnant, and while you only had two months left, it still felt like this pregnancy was being stretched on forever.

It was probably because of how little time Hizashi was spending at home now. You knew his hero job was important, and you were in complete and full support of him, but it felt like now more than ever was it eating away at his time at home. His duties of being a radio host/emergency contact coordinator were also dragging him away from home, forcing him to spend fewer and fewer dinners with you and the kids.

"I'm sorry my love, you know how my job is." Hizashi sighed again, pressing a small kiss to your forehead.

"I know amor, but that's why you need to take a break. You're not just Present Mic you know? You're also Hizashi Yamada. The lovable and gentle guy with a wife and kids who love him very much." You said, concern in every word you told him. He stared at you with those tired eyes, and it pained you to see the eyebags he didn't hide with makeup.

"I love you so much." Hizashi said softly, kissing one of your hands cupping his face.

"And I love you, you dork." You smiled, pulling him into a deep kiss. His lips were soft against yours, and you put all your love and adoration into it.

"Ewww! Get a room you two!" A voice cut the kiss short, and you both looked over to see Carmen peeking from the hallway with a disgusted look on her face.

"We own this house! We'll smooch where ever we want!" Hizashi proclaimed, grabbing your face and pulling you into another deep kiss.

"Ayy! Stop it! ¡Ustedes parar!" She cried, covering her eyes with her hands.

"What's all the yelling abou-Aw sick!" Kanato cried, also covering his eyes.

You pulled away from Hizashi, both of you laughing breathlessly at one another. He put his head in your chest, stuck in a giggling fit. Your laughter trailed off, and you smiled at your two children. "I heard there's a festival going on downtown today. Why don't we check it out?"

"Okay, but only if you two promise not to kiss again!" Carmen cried.

"Sorry hun, no promises!" Hizashi smiled deviously at her, and she just cried out in misery in response.

___________________________________________

Hizashi secured the large sun hat on you, while you checked your purse to see if you had everything you needed.

Carmen came bouncing out in the same sun dress as you were, she even had the same shoes and sunglasses you were wearing. Hizashi laughed, picked her up, and twirled her around.

"My two favorite girls are matching! How will I ever tell her apart!" He cried.

She laughed, "Mommy is pregnant, not me!"

"That's right, and you better keep it that way." Hizashi lightly scolded, though there was no real heat behind his words. Kanato came waltzing out of his room, wearing a breeze-themed tank top and simple shorts. He had his headphones in, and before he could walk out of the house Hizashi plucked them off.

"We're all hanging out together today, alright son?" This time, his scolding was real.

"Alright." He groaned, rolling his beautiful green eyes.

"You're father's, right honey, it'll be fun, I promise." You kissed his cheek before heading out.

"Yayyy! Festival day!" Carmen excitedly ran out of the house, running up to the car and trying to get into the locked car.

Hizashi scooped her up while you slid in the passenger seat, buckling yourself in while he buckled your youngest in.

Katato easily slid into his spot, and being twelve he easily settled himself in. Carmen still needed a bit of help, even though she was a capable and headstrong six-year-old, she still struggled with the seatbelt. You figured she had a slight fear of pinching her fingers in the buckle.

Hizashi then got into the driver's seat and adjusted the radio before looking in the rear-view mirror to take a peak at the two kids.

"Everyone ready!"

"YesYesYes!"

"Yeah."

"Yes sir!"

"Then we're off!"

___________________________________________

"Ice cream mommy!"

"Oh look at that game, can I play please Mom?"

"Let me win this for you babe, it's a strength babe don't worry."

"Oh gosh, I'd kill for some food right now."

The whole time spent at the festival was time well spent. All of you walked around marveling at all the booths that were there. Buying, winning, and losing a fair amount of prizes and games made the whole experience that much more fun. Plus, you stayed late enough to watch the fireworks together while eating ice cream.

You and Hizashi realized it was time to go when your feet started to swell an unbearable amount and Carmen was starting to tear up at her tiredness.

"Oh gosh, they're not out like a light." Your eyes flashed to the two behind you. Your hand ran up and down your belly subconsciously, soothing the unborn baby to sleep in your stomach.

"Yeah, they had a lot of fun today." Hizashi said, a content smile forming its way on his face.

"They missed you and today will definitely cheer them up. I'm glad I got to tear you away from work too." You reached a hand to hold his thigh, squeezing it lightly before you looked at the window. The passing building looked beautiful late at night.

"I missed you guys too. I'm sorry work as been pulling me away. I didn't realize how badly I needed a break until you dragged me away. I'm glad you did." Hizashi looked at you, gaze soft.

"Don't look at me like that! You're making me nervous." You teased, lightly hitting his arm.

"Like what?" He laughed, soft and confident.

"Like I'm the stars and moon."

"No, you're my sun and my rain." He said dreamily, and you couldn't help but melt.

.

..

...

"Get a room you two." A soft voice murmured out, and Hizashi swerved the car out of shock.

[wandering-words]

17 & avanine !!

17 - fixing the other persons clothes absentmindedly or like tucking their hair behind their ear U KNOW WHAT I MEAN THAT SOFT STUFF

I got this prompt twice but I loved getting the opportunity to do more with it :)

~~~

Janine was going on a date with Maurice, and Ava rolled her eyes at the prospect.

She’d overheard Janine’s conversation with Gregory about how she was talking to Maurice, a friend of his apparently, and watched as Gregory’s already wide eyes widened more in surprise.

Now they’d been going out for a little bit, and Ava still didn’t really understand why.

From the short description Gregory gave of Maurice, and from the many mindless entrances he’s had to make through Ava’s office to get a visitor’s sticker, Ava realized that he was nothing more than a slightly smarter, slightly more considerate Tariq.

It made Ava’s stomach roil uncomfortably with a feeling she was unwilling to unpack.

She didn’t really care, she had better things to think about, but it didn’t make sense that Janine would go after someone who was so much like Tariq when Janine broke up with him in the first place.

The rest of the school day passed in a daze as far as staff interactions went. Ava’s assistant fielded calls all day (because Ava already hosted a staff meeting and wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone else) and Ava hunched over stacks of paperwork from the district she’d been meticulously working through ever since her job scare at the school board meeting, realizing that she’d have to stay late in her office again.

It wasn’t a bother, really. Iggy was busy playing at one of his basketball games in LA and Ava was willing to commit herself to reading the paperwork necessary to become a better principal. The budget had been extra tight this year, and she was reviewing the breakdown so that Barbara and she could come up with strategies in the morning to delegate the money where it was the most necessary.

Her late night reading was interrupted by shuffling at her office door. Ava looked up through her sweeping glass windows, half expecting to see Mr. Johnson giving her a disapproving look like he usually did the few nights she stayed this late.

Mr. Johnson would look at her with his narrowed brows and that thin frown just a bit deeper on his face.

“Don’t you have places to be?” He asked one night, and Ava rolled her eyes.

“I work here.”

He clucked his tongue. “So you’re bored and your social life is trash.”

If it were anyone else, she’d be insulted at the way he tried to usher her out of her own office through insults, but she knew that he minded his business and let her mind hers, only annoyed that Ava wasn’t letting him have Abbott at night as his quiet sanctuary.

Tonight, instead of seeing Mr. Johnson reminding her how late she was staying, she saw a disgruntled Janine getting up off the floor. She’d clearly fallen, and Ava watched as she bashfully brushed a few stray curls from her face and smoothed down her red skirt, also brushing invisible dust particles off of her slightly wrinkled white button up.

Ava looked up at her with a raised eyebrow, and Janine averted her eyes, looking down at the floor as if it was the most interesting thing she’d ever seen.

“Janine? What are you doing here?” Ava asked as Janine opened her glass door. (Why Janine was coming in or was still at school was beyond her.)

“Um… I’m preparing for my date. I’m going out with a guy named Maurice. He’s… a friend. Of Gregory’s.” With every word her voice went from a confident tone—though wavering with every word—to practically silent.

She was a bit disheveled from her fall, and Ava could see that Janine’s posture was rigid, the woman standing straight as a soldier with her shoulders tense as a bowstring.

Ava found herself itching to care for the shorter woman, and she realized that nothing was stopping her. No one was there to see them (Mr. Johnson had begrudgingly tossed her the keys and told her to lock up, properly this time) and even if Janine said anything about Ava’s care, no one would believe her.

“Let me smooth everything out for you,” Ava said, and she watched Janine’s eyes grow wider as Ava drew closer to her, Ava’s shadow growing until it enveloped her like a dark blanket.

Ava touched Janine’s shoulder lightly, and Janine’s brown-eyed gaze was curious, imploring as Ava smoothed out the wrinkles on Janine’s white blouse. She felt a shiver go through the shorter woman at the heated touch of Ava’s fingers through the skin of Janine’s blouse.

Then her hands moved from Janine’s shoulders. (It took everything in Ava to ignore the small, disappointed noise Janine made at the loss of contact.) Ava noticed that Janine’s curly hair was still in a slight disarray from her fall, and Ava reached up to tuck a few curls behind Janine’s ear, watching as Janine closed her eyes when feeling the warmth of her touch, absorbing it, savoring it, keeping it close to her chest as if she wasn’t sure when she would be touched again.

Ava found her hands moving from Janine’s curly hair to her cheeks, cupping her face and gazing imploringly into Janine’s now open, wide eyes, searching for something she didn’t know she was looking for.

Janine nuzzled her face into Ava’s hands, and that was the touch to bring Ava back out of the Janine-induced haze she’d been lulled under. She pulled her hands away quickly, as if Janine’s face had heated up to an unbearable temperature, and she pushed down the lump that arose in her throat when Janine’s mouth twisted into a hurt line.

“Thanks.”

Janine’s voice was barely a whisper, the two of them still recovering from the surprising intimacy of the moment before.

“Yeah.”

That’s all Ava could say without spilling some embarrassing thought about the shorter woman that had been shoved to the back of her mind for a reason.

You deserve better than Maurice.

I’m better than Maurice.

Choose me.

[dojae-huh]

I really get overwhelmed by something that I saw on tl today...i guess an au writer, dont knw just saw the post..was asking suggestions for their fic about cheating...like is it okay to cheat someone for being with his true love or smthng..the matter is cheating here..

Does that mean whoever read that fic enjoyed the cheating? Nd if they enjoyed it who should we actually blame it on...the reader or the writer?

Just like what happens in ty's matter...I have seen lot au nd fanfics authors criticized him that if he read it that means he enjoyed evry word that written on it...they should sit nd think where do they stand when they write something like this..even if u think it's a minor sin, that doesnt matter...the point is when u write something gore, isnt that just to aware ppl there is lot of similar things happening in the world,nd u should knw these things through these stories...nd dont make prejudice that ppl actually enjoying it nd they r bad...when u persue literature in a good way u should feel nd think it in the same way too....

Tbh, I want to convey what's on my mind in a lot clearer way..but lang is a big wall to write...if u get the point that's it...I just want to share it with u...thanku

It depends. If a radio host spreads propaganda and urges to kill other people, he is up to a trial. He spreads dangerous ideas, brainwashes people with lies and installs hatred. If a reader of Crime and Punishment takes an axe and goes and kills a woman, the author is not to blame, he only explored human nature and contemplated about guilt.

If a story describes how justifiable cheating is, how wonderful is the experience, how it can be a test to the relationship and "true love" because "if he/she really loves you, you'll be forgiven", the author is partially to blame. Partially because in the end it was the reader who read the story till the end and made the decision to cheat, who acted in the real world. The author just played the devil and used the right for free speech.

As a rule, fanfiction is not a propaganda media, it is low class literature for fun to spend the time and get distracted from everyday life and chores. The author' only responsibility is to provide correct tags and warnigns, to make the reader aware of what is inside their story for an informed choice. Everything else is on the reader.

What people consume, what stories they read, what scenarios they fantasize about often have little ties to reality. You can't judge a person's real character on what he/she reads or what video games he/she plays. Like take the horror movie genre for example. People who watch it want a little bit of thrill, a scare to satisfy the primitive part of our brains that evolved to look out for predators and find joy in escaping danger (people feel more alive going through hardships or danger). Those people (most of them at least, can't vouch for sociopaths and mass murderers) don't watch the horror movies to enjoy teen girls being brutally killed or kids being devoured by aliens.

Stranger things is also a series about the charm of 80-s, friendship and family. Deaths, experiments on kids and maiming by creatures is in the plot as a story-telling tool designed to bring the best out of the protagonists, not to treat viewers with gore.

Back to cheating. Many people feel bored with their daily life, so they want some "spice". This makes them look for stories with "not vanilla"/"forbidden" themes. It's because they didn't experience the thing in real life which makes them be able to read about it. Even gang rape is a kink.

It is well known that once a couple gets together in a tv-series, it becomes dead. Writers know how to write romance, but not married couple interestingly. Same could be the case with "true love". So they live happily ever after, and what can one write about them? Kids and domestic fluff, or "trouble in paradise" - cheating and break up. If fanfic writers were as smart and creative as they like to think of themselves, they'd be earning acclaimed authors with prizes in literature.

There is a mangaka Hiroaki Samura. He likes gore. He incorporates it in his mainstream series, he also draws niche artbooks and short-stories with nude and very graphically tortured women. You can be narrow-minded and prejusticed and jump to a conclusion that he needs to be cancelled. In reality, he is one of the rare authors who writes women as real characters, who does the "strong woman" trope correctly. He also has great sense of humour, he brings all his characters to life. And I have a suspicion that his oneshot about orphaned women being gang raped was an attempt to digest the history of "war brides", something that Japanese try to pretend never happened. Hiroaki doesn't give interviews with deep self-exploration for me to know why he is into gore, but I can see whatever it is (dealing with trauma, artistic exploration of human sins, whatever) it doesn't make him a "bad human" with "bad influence". On the contrary, I'd like Japan to offer more authors like him.

Showing violence can be a way to teach about compassion or serve as a warning. Like the old fairytales were Cinderella sisters' toes were actually cut off or sibings burned a witch alive.

The art of drawing is especially detached from reality. Even though the brain matches the drawn objects to the real ones, without smell and sound, 3D-ness and other information signals of "the real world", the drawn things stay unreal. A drawing of a dead person can be considered beautiful art (Ophelia). It certainly wasn't meant to evoke those realistic feelings of disgust and fear that a real smelling, bloated and floating in water corpse will do. And the painters who decided to make their own version of the famous scene certainly weren't into dead women as sexual objects.

I think Tae being dragged into that manga controvesry in the end will bring him new fans, lol. He is too anime looking to not pick up anime folks' interest.

[demcnsinmymind]

everyone be out there talking about their demon/host combo sorta being besties and a symbiont power couple, meanwhile there's the boy, the az and me. And though I also do have a symbiont late post canon verse which is super fun, for the most part I am here to tell u that no, I am boring and do not have a real symbiont power couple on this blog

the az is extremely obsessed, manipulative as hell, chaotic as shit and that is all.

Like, it's important to me to stress that this is not your typical supernatural-y type of possession either. Lance let it in. He's not exactly trapped in his mind 24/7 and it is not in charge 24/7 and it's not forcing him to do stuff all the time. It has never physically harmed him and would never torture or mentally hurt him in any way. It does want him its version of 'safe' and 'comfortable' and it does want him alive, and it enjoys letting him be in charge most of the time because to it it's like watching your fav tv show BUT

There still is a severe imbalance of power and no real equality here and there never will be. Both of them will abuse each other's perks for their own gains regardless of whether it's useful or good for the other. Az will keep gobbling his mental trauma right up for food and funnsies and it will keep using him as its home for comfort and for the heck of it. Lance in return will keep manipulating its protectiveness and obsession to trigger its powers against others and eventually will use its powers all by himself to his own benefit, to bascially become OP just so no one can ever hurt him again. Both their number one goal is to keep him alive, yes, but other than that, Azzy's extreme obsession with him is mainly unhealthy and nothing positive. It'll kill people over it. It'll try to destroy genuine relationships to keep him all to itself and just itself. And Lance's attachment to it is based on nothing but fear of abandonment and trauma aka it's a trauma bond/stockholm's syndrome. And he's the type of character who doesn't have many friends, doesn't know how to make genuine friends, is terrible at keeping them, and post canon, is afraid of having them and hurting them, so he's trapped in a way since this leaves him with Az as his only 'friend' which he doesn't want to lose.

Not throwing any shade at anyone, just thought it'd be fun to make that a little clearer because I myself tend to forget the idea at times and catch myself thinking "okay but maybe Azzy is right and it really isn't so bad actually, it just wants to keep him safe and protected, so maybe it actually really is his friend" and that is true, but it still fucked up my friends because the motive and intentions behind it are important, and let me tell u those are not at all about Lance but all about itself. Because we all know if it truly cared about him and his wellbeing and just wanted him to be safe and happy, it would leave him alone if he got better. But the thing is that it won't EVER leave him again because it is way too obsessed with him and the endless food supply of his time paradox and suffering and it literally just wants him because that's all it cares about. Not needing or reason or anything else. Just endless hunger and want.

Having said all of that, I still can't picture a post canon reality where either of the two actually get rid of each other. They're stuck with each other either way - for better or worse. Especially since Lance literally needs it in his head because otherwise there would be nothing in place to keep the physical damage to his brain away. It's literally like a pacemaker, and that just adds up to the 'hostage' situation without it being a true one. It's just...a mess all around.

[heliads]

okay hi i love ur work anddd if it’s cool with you could i request a peter maximoff x reader (x-men) where the reader needs glasses but like usually wears contacts bc they’re kinda insecure about their glasses bc it makes them think they look bad or whatever and like peter is super sweet about it and yeah just fluffy stuff if that’s cool with u. have a nice day/night!

omg YES i adore writing for peter (also i'm a fellow glasses wearer myself so this was fun <3)

masterlist

This might be the most peaceful you’ve ever seen Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. For once, the hills surrounding you are quiet, and you swear you can even hear the songs of birds usually kept silent by explosions or rampaging mutants. Sure, this place is a place of study, but it’s host to dozens of genetically unique individuals, most of them prone to using their gifts at all hours of the night.

Tonight, though, all is calm. It’s an hour or so after dusk, the moon combining with the last residual glow of the newly sleeping sun to drench the place in light. You can see for miles, you can see forever. No gift required for that. It’s just perfect.

You cross the room to your window and throw up the sash. It rained recently, which is why no one’s outside. Technically, your friend Ororo could have lifted the storm, but she’s on strike due to one of the younger kids teasing her about a recent slipup involving lighting hitting where it shouldn’t. She’ll be right as rain, so to speak, by tomorrow, but you don’t mind her leave of absence today.

You can feel the cool air playing upon your cheeks, the slight humidity and faint breeze the only sign that the weather hasn’t been perfect. It’s not that late at night, but you’ve been tired recently, and you wouldn’t mind using tonight as an excuse to just lay back and relax.

You spare one last moment to stare contentedly out your window, then lean back into your chair once more. You have a knitted blanket nearby, if it grows cold enough for that, and your roommate, Jean Grey, won’t be back to your shared quarters until late at night. You believe her excuse had something to do with getting in some last minute mutation practice, although you swear you saw her heading towards Scott Summers’ room instead of the training hall.

That’s her business, though, not yours. You’re happy to stay here for as long as you can, alone in a blissful bubble of calm. Eyes still on the quiet grounds, you reach for the book you started last night, but your hand closes on empty air.

No. You whip your head around to stare at the corner of your desk where you’d just left the text, but it’s true. The book is gone. All traces of serenity bleed away from you, and you desperately wrack your brain, trying to brainstorm where you could have possibly left the thing. It’s not in your bag, no, you cleaned that this afternoon for what must be the first time in months.

At last, you realize where the book is. You brought it to one of your classes this morning, as one of what feels like dozens of instructors has been growing more and more boring as the year progresses. Unfortunately, she’d chosen this day to be aware of her class, and she’d confiscated the book the second you pulled it out. You must have forgotten to get it from her at the end of the day.

You set your jaw. You refuse to let this evening escape you, which means that it’s time for a heist. You’ll be taking that book back now, instructors be damned. There’s only one problem, which is that, seeing as you assumed you’d be in your dorm room until the next morning, you’ve already taken out your contacts. They’d been dry all day and you couldn’t wait to take them out, but now you can’t see without your glasses.

You’re not against the glasses, like most of your peers you do enjoy being able to see things, but the problems is that they’re just not great for appearances. You infinitely prefer contacts– they’re fantastic for peripheral vision, for one thing, and they don’t steam up or get covered in raindrops. You’ve seen too many movies and read too many books where only weirdos and nerds wear glasses, and it’s caused significant trauma. Contacts forever, or so you claim.

Now, you have no other choice. You glare at the accursed frames before grabbing them and slipping out the door. You keep your head down as you navigate out of the dorm building and start crossing the grounds of Xavier’s School. If you do this well, you can grab your book and get back before the peaceful atmosphere entirely deserts you.

However, this doesn’t appear to be the case. You’ve scarcely rounded the side of the math and science building when you get the feeling that you’re not alone. There’s a suspicious wind rustling only the trees by your left side, which is weird. It’s as if someone is out there rattling the branches, or perhaps running by so fast that he’s upset the natural balance of things.

Your concerns are confirmed when you hear a sound behind you, someone trying to make creepy ghost sounds under their breath. You roll your eyes.

“Peter Maximoff, that had better not be you.”

The supposedly ghostly murmurings break out into laughter, and seconds later the freak wind brushes by you again. You take advantage of the moment before Peter arrives to hurriedly tuck your glasses into the pocket of your jacket. Peter’s like a shark at the first scent of blood, no other kid is ever able to identify the best weakness for teasing as well as him. It would do you no good to have him see your glasses, you can already imagine what he’d think of that.

Just as your hands leave your pocket, Peter Maximoff appears in front of you. Dusk looks good on him, you think, it darkens his usually bright hair and makes him appear as if he were a creature of the night, a physical manifestation of all the moonlight you see around you. 

Peter cocks his head to the side, grinning as if he can tell exactly what you’re thinking. It wouldn’t surprise you if he could, Peter always carries himself with the casual confidence of someone who both knows precisely what everyone has to say about him and doesn’t give a damn about any of it. 

“Late night, L/N? I assumed you were always indoors by the time the sun set. There might be monsters around,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. 

You roll your eyes. “The only monster around here is you, Maximoff. You and your creepy way of showing up in the middle of nowhere.”

Peter waves his fingers to emphasize his inherent creepiness. “This is my school too, remember? I’m allowed to go where I please, as well as see what I please. Speaking of which, why are you here? I thought skulking about in the dead of twilight was only something I did.”

You cross your arms against your chest. “Super secret business. I wouldn’t tell you under torture.”

Peter grins. “Ah, okay. Super secret business. Not anything like getting this book, for instance?”

As you watch, Peter pulls a small trade paperback out of the inside of his jacket. He waves it triumphantly before your stunned eyes. 

“What?” you ask, “you knew I forgot to get it?”

More importantly, the question you’re not daring to ask is that Peter not only knew it was missing but already got it for you. Sure, he could have been heading back to his dorm room to hold it as blackmail, but he also could have been heading your way to give it to you. The thought of it makes you smile. 

Peter scratches the back of his head self consciously. “I was rummaging around in our teacher’s desk for, uh, reasons, and I saw it.”

Despite his seeming confidence, you know the excuse for what it is. Peter searched all of your teachers’ desks a long time ago, to the point where everyone just keeps their valuables on their person because they’d vanish otherwise. There’s no reason he would be looking in a teacher’s desk except for the sole purpose of finding your book. 

Peter must realize that your thoughts have reached this point, because he gestures hastily at you. “Say, are my eyes deceiving me or did you try and hide something in your jacket pocket before I showed up? Surely there are no secrets between us, Y/N. I would be deeply hurt if there were.”

Shoot, the glasses. You’d forgotten about them, but it appears that Peter hadn’t. 

“What? That’s nothing.” For someone who’s had a lifetime of lying about your mutation, you’re terrible at coming up with an excuse now. 

As per usual, Peter sees right through you. “Yeah, right. Come on, what is it? Don’t tell me star student Y/N L/N has been caught with illicit materials on school grounds. That’s illegal, you know.”

You laugh, incredulous. “I’m not dealing drugs, if that’s what you’re asking. They’re my glasses.”

You say the last bit in a quieter voice, ready for Peter to start making fun of you. He certainly seems like it, as his whole face brightens the second you mention the glasses. 

“Really?” he asks through a grin, “No way! I didn’t know you had glasses.”

You grimace. “Yeah, I’ve been trying to keep it that way. They’re super dorky.”

Peter’s smile softens. “Well, now I’ve got to see them. Come on, bring ‘em out.”

You move to block the pocket, but Peter just uses his mutation and has your glasses in his hand about half a second later. 

“Aw, they’re cute. Put them on, there are enough of us monsters around here that you shouldn’t have to go blind.”

You give him a look. “You’re making fun of me.”

Peter’s face is dead serious. “Am not. This is serious.” At your exasperated look, he relents. “I’m not joking, Y/N. I’m being honest, I’ve never seen you in glasses and I want to see what you look like in them. I wouldn’t make fun of you at a time like this.”

You arch a brow, although you can feel your last defenses silently crumbling. “Promise?”

Peter sighs, although his smile is picking up again at the corners. “Promise. Did you really think I would make fun of you, though?”

He almost looks hurt as he asks the last question, like he genuinely cares what you think of him.

You look away. “Well, I don’t know about you specifically. I thought people in general would make fun of me, how about that?”

Peter brightens. “Perfect.”

With that, he hands the glasses to you, and you carefully slide them on. You blink once and look at him, feeling oddly exposed despite the new surfaces between you. 

All the glasses do, though, is make it easier for you to see the delighted smile that crosses Peter’s face, sudden as a thunderstorm on a summer afternoon. He’s looking at you like he’s never seen you before, or never taken the time to list out just how much he likes seeing you. 

“There,” he says after a moment, “That wasn’t that bad, was it?”

You giggle. “Actually, I think it was terrible. Pure torture.”

Peter’s lips quirk up. “Not for me. I think I’m going to have to steal your contacts so I can see you with glasses more often.”

“Really,” you say around a smile, “it’s that different from my normal face?”

For some reason, Peter’s cheeks seem to be turning pink. “It’s good, that’s all. You look good.”

It’s fun seeing him like this. Peter is rarely as lost for words as he is right now. 

For once, you decide to take pity on him. “Well, like you said, it is getting late. Want to head back with me?”

Peter’s brow arches, the picture of surprised intrigue. “Are you inviting me to spend the night in your room? Y/N, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

You laugh, embarrassed, and swat him on the shoulder with your newly re-acquired paperback. “Stop that. I’m just glad you managed to get my book, that’s all.”

Peter smiles. “I’m sure. You lead the way, sweetheart.”

Looking over at Peter as the two of you walk, you find yourself grateful for the clarity of your glasses. It gives you the chance to treasure how he never seems to stop looking at you, and it also gives him an excuse to keep his eyes on you. Perhaps he’s right, you should wear your glasses more often. You certainly enjoy the results. 

xmen tag list: @enchantedcruelsummer, @awaywiththe, @amourtentiaa, @elaineygrace, @rogueanschel, @caswinchester2000, @gods-fools-heroes

[tyonfs]

cat & mouse

❝ rule number one of bro code states that sisters are completely off-limits, and, y/n, we just pushed that limit. ❞

PAIRING ▸ na jaemin x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ smut, crack, fluff, college au, friends with benefits au

WARNINGS ▸ lots of !! sexual tension !! and jaemin acting like a dick, protective big brother!jaehyun, lots of sneaking around, jaemin calls you princess a lot, teasing, fingering, alcohol consumption, hooking up, thigh riding, smut, oral sex, aftercare

SUMMARY ▸ tired of meaningless hookups and dull parties, na jaemin had always been hesitant to indulge himself. that is, of course, until he met you. however, upon realizing you’re none other than jeong jaehyun’s little sister, jaemin has to keep his relationship with you under wraps to make sure his team captain doesn’t find out. 

PLAYLIST ▸ move! by niki • playinwitme by kyle (feat. kehlani)

WORD COUNT ▸ 17713 words

TAG LIST ▸ @chubsluda​ @celestialchans​ @treasurestay​ @luvlyjaemin​ @lanadreamie​ @kylomeyon​ @taehinsano​ @jenotation​ @ovelha-colorida-v​ @hrjflrt​ @to-blessed-2-be-stressed​ @honeyju​ @chanluster​ @sweetjaemss​ @najaemsenthusiastttt​ @neovrse​ @jjikyuu​ @treasurestay​ @ahgastayzen​ @wcnderlandss​ @jaehy9ngs​ @jaemxins​ @syhznanny​ @lilminyoongles​ @bbnana​

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ thank you so much for all of your love and support !! it’s beyond me & i hope you guys enjoy this ! part of the dunk shot! series but it can be read separately ♡

NA JAEMIN HATED PARTIES.

In the same vein, he hated basketball to an extent. It wasn’t the sport itself that he despised, it was the commitments that followed it. As a vital player on the team, he was obligated to attend every afterparty despite how much he loathed parties. Yet, what he couldn’t stand was being nagged by his teammates, so Jaemin went to the parties. He went to the parties and drank until he was numb and the party was tolerable.

He didn’t even like drinking that much, but he didn’t have much of a choice when most of the members of the basketball team were his seniors. Jaemin was pretty sure his brain cells depleted one-by-one every time he took a shot, but sometimes he got away with faking his alcohol intake when the others were too drunk to keep track. His best friend, Lee Jeno, on the other hand, lived for parties like this. Jaemin used that to his advantage; Jeno was the perfect target to hand off his unwanted shots to.

“Jaemin!” Jeong Jaehyun, the captain of the basketball team, made his presence known easily. After all, the parties were always hosted at his house. “Let’s do a love shot.”

If it were anyone else, Jaemin would’ve turned them down with some sarcastic, witty comeback. However, Jaehyun was different. Jaemin admired him since they were high schoolers on the basketball team. Jaehyun was two years older but his skills were on another level. Jaemin had always worked to see if he could surpass him but to no avail.

“Sure.” Jaemin got off of the couch, where he was aimlessly scrolling through his social media and observing the party. He followed Jaehyun to the kitchen counter. “You got tequila?”

It was a stupid question. Jaehyun was loaded; his supply of alcohol seemed endless.

“Of course,” Jaehyun replied. He took a red solo cup and measured a shot of tequila. “By the way, why don’t you talk to any of the girls here? You seem tense. You should get laid.”

It wasn’t like Jaemin intentionally avoided the girls. He just had no interest in people who wanted to blindly hook-up and forget about it the next morning. He didn’t completely ignore them either. Jaemin distinctly remembered a pretty blonde passing him her vape pen, which he politely refused. While he didn’t mind destroying his liver, he wanted to keep his lungs intact.

“There’s no one here I want to fuck,” was Jaemin’s impassive response. “Especially not when they’re drunk off their ass.”

“Is that so? How much did you drink tonight?”

“This is my third or fourth shot, I think.”

Jaehyun snorted and held out the red solo cup to him. “Well, here’s to your intact virginity.”

“I’m not a virgin.” Jaemin took the cup and swished its contents around. “Can’t we toast to something more practical? Like basketball?”

A chuckle escaped Jaehyun’s lips, bemused like a father to his son. He eyed Jaemin as he held the red solo cup to his lips. “Ready?”

Jaehyun didn’t wait for Jaemin, though. He tipped his cup up, downing the contents, and Jaemin followed suit as quickly as he could. The tequila was a smooth burn down his throat, but it made Jaemin feel slow and hazy. The fire spread across his chest, spreading to his arms, legs, and then his head. He felt fuzzy and was sure he had hit his limit for the night.

Jaemin took an unstable step forward, and Jaehyun put a firm hand on his shoulder, asking, “You good?” to which Jaemin answered with a dazed nod. With a grin, Jaehyun patted his back firmly. “See you when we’re both conscious again, man.”

The next thirty minutes were a blur. Jaemin found himself at a beer pong table and, in his drunken state, pretended he was practicing his free throws while he relished the crowd cheering him on. He felt a pair of hands on his shoulders, cheering wildly at the side until he got a headache. Eventually, the house felt too stuffy and he decided to go out to the backyard to let his buzz fade out.

Outside wasn’t any better. The cheers were louder outside and the music was still blasting. The fog in Jaemin’s head thickened and he was sure he felt hands trying to guide him to the pool, but he brushed them off. He narrowed his eyes onto a lawn chair and willed himself to walk straight towards it.

Sit, he ordered himself. Do not get in the pool and make a fool out of yourself.

After pushing past a few of his teammates and the girls hovering around them, Jaemin’s knees buckled under him as soon as he got to the lawn chair. It was damp when he sat down, but he was too drunk and dazed to care. Jaemin looked up at the sky, unfocused, and was only pulled from his thoughts when his phone went off.

annoying jeno: where tf did u go? this girl wants me to introduce her to u

It was time for another shot.

Jaemin felt heavy. He sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair, and spotted a red solo cup on the side table to his right. He reached for it and inspected the contents, sloshing it around sluggishly until he noticed a pair of eyes boring into him.

You were isolating yourself from the rest of the party, just like him. You weren’t giving him the sex eyes like he had expected; you looked more confused. Unlike Jaemin, you looked much more sober and functional. It was painfully obvious by the way Jaemin couldn’t seem to focus on you without seeing double.

He wasn’t sure if it was because of the alcohol in his system, but Jaemin had no idea who you were, but fuck, he wanted to. He pushed it down, though. Hookups were never fulfilling, and Jaemin wasn’t here to let himself go.

“Why are you staring at me?” Jaemin asked in a low voice, trying to speak coherently without slurring his words. He wasn’t sure if it worked, but you seemed to understand.

To his surprise, you fired a question back at him. “What are you doing?”

Jaemin wasn’t sure how to answer that. He was obviously drunk off his ass, so what was he supposed to explain when it was clear as day?

“Waiting for this stupid party to be over,” Jaemin replied. He dropped his gaze back to the cup he held on his lap. “Why are you still staring? I’m not interested.”

“You’re holding my drink.”

Jaemin stilled. He looked between you and the cup for a moment before muttering a pathetic “oh.” He flushed and held the cup out to you. “Sorry.”

You took the cup gingerly and downed your shot before advising him, “You know, you shouldn’t be taking random cups and drinking from them at parties. You never know what they could be laced with.”

Jaemin’s head lolled to the side, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. He didn’t want to join the party, but he didn’t want to sit back and be scolded. He was debating making a run for the fence in Jaehyun’s backyard. His house was only a few blocks away and he was pretty sure he’d be sober enough to make it. Jeno, however, was the obstacle he was worried about. If he ran off without telling Jeno (who was going to disapprove anyway), he was sure to get an earful the next day.

“Also,” you continued, “don’t go around assuming every girl who looks in your general direction wants to fuck you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jaemin grumbled, too drained to argue back. “Shouldn’t you be partying with everyone? It’s depressing over here.”

“This isn’t my party to celebrate,” you said, biting down on the rim of your cup delicately. “I’m just here for the drinks.”

Jaemin didn’t know what to say to that, so he decided to introduce himself. “I’m Na Jaemin, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you replied. “Pleasure to meet you, Na Jaemin.”

Jaemin’s eyelashes were obscuring his vision as he tried to squint to make you out. He wasn’t sure if it was the drunken stupor, but you were breathtaking. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing that Jaemin was currently seeing double of you. Jaemin wasn’t sure how he had ever missed you at any of the other parties (if you even showed up to those), but he was glad he snuck away to the backyard now.

Jaemin turned back to look at the scene before him, full of shrieks and shouts from partygoers as they danced off-beat to the blasting music. He almost didn’t notice the ultimate bastard, Yuta Nakamoto, walking over with his eyes set on not Jaemin, but you. Yuta only seemed to see Jaemin when he neared the two and, despite the awkward pause in the air, held his hand up to fistbump him. Jaemin lazily returned it, not really processing until seconds later when Yuta had already passed him.

It wasn’t that Yuta and Jaemin had any bad blood between them. Rather, Jaemin found the older boy quite fun to be around, and on top of that, he was a really supportive and caring teammate. However, when it came to parties, Yuta tended to be a lot more high-energy than Jaemin was.

“Hey, Y/N,” Yuta crooned deviously, standing over you with his hands shoved in his pockets. He crouched down so he was at eye-level with you, holding onto the arm of your chair. “Care to dance with me?”

“Yuta Nakamoto,” you drawled, a smile appearing on your lips. “I’m good over here, but you go have fun.”

Yuta stood up again, a cat-like grin spreading from ear-to-ear across his face as he stepped back toward the pool. “You’re gonna miss out, Y/N. You cool with that?”

The smile never left your lips as you rolled your eyes at him. Yuta turned to dive into the pool, making Jaemin’s nose scrunch as the splash was big enough to get water on his clothes. When Yuta surfaced, he smoothed his hair back and wiped the excess water from his face. He caught your eye again, winking before swimming toward Jungwoo and splashing him, leaving you shaking your head and chuckling.

“You two close?” Jaemin asked in a mumble, not quite sure where he was going with the sudden conversation.

You were shocked momentarily, but smiled when you looked over at Jaemin. “Let’s just say he wants to get in my pants but I find the age gap inappropriate.”

Jaemin snorted. “Really? How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

Jaemin rose a brow. He was just a year older than you but not so far off from Yuta. He hadn’t seen many college students be so conscious of a legal age difference of a year or two. After all, nearly everyone was an adult anyway.

“That’s not so far off from Yuta,” he told you.

You hid a smile, nearly going unnoticed under the dim light, but Jaemin had just caught it in time. “He’s like, my brother’s age,” you replied. “It’s just weird.”

Jaemin didn’t really get it, but he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to. He was an only child so he didn’t really think his opinion was valid anyway. Yet, he must have been looking at you weird because you bit your lip and shrunk under his gaze. Jaemin swallowed and turned back to look down at his feet, trying to get his head out of the clouds, but the buzz was still too strong.

He couldn’t stop himself from blurting out, “What if it was me?”

“Huh?”

He wasn’t looking at you but he could feel your gaze boring into him. Jaemin wanted to melt into a puddle then and there. He was never the type to make a move like that, usually expecting girls to approach him, but now that he did, his skin was crawling with shame. Although, he figured it wouldn’t be too bad if he ended the night in bed with you.

Jaemin worked up the courage to turn his gaze to you. “I’m a year older than you. Would you be down if it was me?”

“Yeah,” you admitted bluntly, causing the tips of Jaemin’s ears to go red. “But I don’t know you, so…”

“Do you want to?” he asked, then clarified, “Get to know me, I mean.”

The two of you were silent for a moment, and it was far more deafening than the booming party around them. Jaemin’s gaze dropped from your face to look back at the college students wading around in the pool. Someone must have messed with the pool because it had started to fill up with bubbles, making the crowd cheer louder. Entranced, Jaemin nearly didn’t notice you when you were standing right over him. He arched a brow at you, scooting back a little out of shock.

“Do you want to get out of here then?”

You were smiling coyly and Jaemin didn’t have the willpower to resist anymore. He stood up, looking around for Jeno, before turning to you and nodding. Everyone was so consumed with the pool foaming up that it would be easy for them to escape from the backyard.

“I’m way too drunk to drive, but we can go for a walk,” Jaemin suggested, leading her out through the backyard fence. He had escaped from there countless times, only for Jeno to drag him back, but this time, Jeno was preoccupied.

Yet, something unsettled him about not informing his best friend, so he decided to shoot him a quick text.

jaemin: i’ll see u back home, i’m with a girl lol

annoying jeno: deadass? have fun

Now, at least Jaemin had one thing off his chest.

“So what’s your deal?” Jaemin asked you as he tried to focus on walking in a straight line. “You have guys like Yuta Nakamoto lining up for you and you’re passing up my boy?”

“If he’s your boy then why are you trying to make a pass at me?” you shot back, grabbing his arm to provide leverage when he stumbled.

“Touché,” Jaemin grumbled. “It’s not like he was scoring, so I might as well shoot my shot.”

“Did you score?”

The corner of Jaemin’s mouth twitched. “That’s for you to decide, isn’t it?”

Mutual attraction was such a strange feeling because the sexual tension was there and so loud. Granted, about 90% of it came from Jaemin, but something about the way you were still holding onto his arm and laughing at his stupid jokes made him feel like something was going to happen tonight.

“We should stargaze,” you offered, pointing at a grassy hill behind a park the both of you were passing by. Jaemin nodded in response, so you dragged him by the arm to the chosen location.

Stargazing meant laying down, and laying down meant not having to focus on walking in a straight line anymore, so it sounded absolutely heavenly to Jaemin right now. Somehow, he felt like such an amateur right now. No girl had ever asked him to lay down and stargaze with him; they always just skipped to the bedroom fun.

You let go of Jaemin to lay down on the grass, positioning yourself like a starfish before patting the space next to you and then moving your hands to rest on your stomach. You looked entranced with the stars above you, but the moment Jaemin laid down next to you, you turned to him, catching him off-guard. Jaemin’s eyes flickered from you to the sky above.

“The stars are beautiful,” he said weakly.

He couldn’t even see the fucking stars.

“Damn, I thought you were gonna call me beautiful for a second,” you teased, nudging his shoulder lightly.

“You wish,” Jaemin said with a light snort, swallowing thickly. “There’s no way I’m calling a girl that over my dead body.”

He was a terrible liar. It was clear when Na Jaemin was feeling lustful. His eyes would turn half-lidded and his voice would drop a few octaves. Right now, all of that was happening along with his fingers twitching at his sides. You were looking back up at the sky when he turned his head to look at you, and god, you were so pretty.

“Girls must come running for you,” you told him, “otherwise I really can’t figure out the ego.”

“That’s the problem when you’re a star basketball player and devilishly handsome.” Jaemin grinned, folding his arms behind his head. “You turn out like me.”

“How mortifying.”

“I know, right?” Jaemin turned onto his side for a brief moment to look at you. “How come I’ve never seen you around before. I’m sure I would’ve remembered…”

“Because I’m beautiful?” you offered.

Jaemin groaned, pink dusting his cheeks. “Why are you so fixed on that?”

You laughed in response while Jaemin just stared at the heartstopping curve of your lips. He felt himself grow hot, anticipation mixed with the weight of the situation. He had never been the type to feel so jittery around a girl, but here he was, a touch anxious because he was afraid of doing something wrong.

“That’s Orion’s Belt there,” you pointed out. “Can you see Betelgeuse?”

You turned to look at Jaemin to see if you had his attention, but did a double-take upon realizing that you, in fact, had his full attention. His eyes were directly on you, not the night sky above. The both of you were so painfully close, and Jaemin couldn’t resist when he reached over to brush a few strands of hair behind your ear.

“I can’t see the stars,” he mumbled, his large hand moving to cup your cheek. When your gazes were locked, he caressed your cheek with his thumb gently and leaned in to kiss you.

Well, he was about to kiss you until he felt your finger pressing against his lips.

“I’m down for whatever,” you told him sweetly, “but I don’t kiss on the first date.”

Jaemin wasn’t sure what to make of that. Sure, he found it a little weird, but he could see the reasoning behind it. You were probably one of those people who saved your kisses for something special—whatever that meant. Honestly, Jaemin didn’t really care about the significance, but he did know it would be amplified if he found “the one.”

“So this is a date now?” he asked, amused.

“Somewhat.”

Jaemin huffed lightly and leaned back, letting his hand retract back to his side. “Down for whatever? Even sex?”

You raised a very attractive eyebrow at him, making Jaemin short-circuit for a split second. “If you play your cards right,” you said airily, your voice all light and fluffy.

“Down for whatever but the offer isn’t extended to anyone over the age of twenty-one.”

You punched his shoulder hard this time. “Bite me.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Whatever made Jaemin’s confidence swell was taking over fast. In seconds, Jaemin propped himself up with his elbow, using his free hand to brush your hair to the side and tilting your neck so he could have easier access to it.

To test the waters, Jaemin nipped at your supple skin, earning a hitch in your slowed breathing that encouraged him to do more. Jaemin left open-mouthed kisses down your neck, sucking harshly with each one. He licked his lips when he pulled away to look at your neck. You were tough to bruise but he loved a challenge. He maneuvered his body over you so he could indulge himself further, holding himself up with his forearms.

Jaemin dipped under your chin again, ravishing the side of your neck that he targeted. He littered the column of your neck with dark hickeys, smirking against your skin upon the sight. You were a squirming mess under him, tugging at his hair and bucking your hips up against his. Jaemin grunted softly, his hands pushing your hips down so you could no longer tempt him.

You wrapped your hands around him, one hand sliding up the nape of his neck to curl your fingers in his hair. Hands weren’t normally something that made Jaemin weak, but yours were driving him crazy with one in his hair and the other bunching up the fabric of his shirt.

He cupped the apex of your jeans, smug as you whined at his touch, yearning for more. Jaemin’s free hand grazed your waist before he lowered it to your hip. He pulled away from your neck to meet your gaze, biting his lip at your lustful expression.

“Can I?” he asked, pressing down slightly against your apex.

You nodded, about to say something but got cut off when Jaemin moved his hand down and palmed your clothed clit. Jaemin smirked once he heard the soft sigh falling from your lips. His breathing got heavier, mixing with yours as he started fumbling to unbutton your jeans.

You looked up at him through half-lidded eyes. “Jaemin…”

Jaemin swallowed hard and tugged your jeans down your hips a little. He felt like he was losing control with every touch. He just wanted to hold you in his arms and spend the rest of the night with you, and it was impossible to shake off that feeling when you were looking at him like that.

He playfully snapped the waistband of your panties, letting out a chuckle when your face twisted up and you pushed at his chest. Then, you drew him closer again and guided his hand down your pants. Jaemin took a shaky breath when he felt how wet you were. It filled him with pride, of course, but he had suddenly felt so nervous. He had hooked up with girls before, but this felt weird to him. Different, to an extent. They were just going through the motions, but he was struck with some strange feeling that he didn’t want to mess up or do something wrong. It was like his first time all over again when he had no idea what he was doing.

His silent cry for help was answered with rain.

“Jesus, it’s raining now?” Jaemin asked with a disapproving huff, pulling his hand out of your pants. He wondered if the people in Jaehyun’s backyard were going to move back inside or keep partying through rain and storm.

“It is?” You frowned and reached a hand over him to catch some raindrops. “You make a nice umbrella, Na Jaemin.”

“How kind of you,” Jaemin replied, a bit distracted by the rain pelting his back. “Should we make a run back to Jaehyun’s or do you want to, like…”

“Do I want to do it outside in the rain?” you asked, quirking a brow at him. “Absolutely not.”

“Worth a shot.”

Jaemin hauled himself up to his feet, holding a hand out for you so you could stand. You started patting down your clothes and fixing your fly. Jaemin did the same, making sure he looked presentable but he kept quiet about the dark hickey on the side of your neck. He squinted up at the drizzle of rain from the sky.

Cockblock, Jaemin thought bitterly.

Yet another distraction came in the form of a text message. Specifically, a text message from Lee Jeno.

annoying jeno: i’m going back to the apartment and ik ur with a girl but i left the keys at home so pls open the door

“Son of a bitch,” Jaemin grumbled to himself. He shoved his phone back in his pocket and looked at you when he noticed your questioning stare. Jaemin ran his hands down your arms, then held your waist gently. “I have to go.”

“Go?” you asked him, startled.

“Yeah,” Jaemin replied with a sigh, not wanting to divulge how idiotic his roommate was. “Can I get your number?”

This perked you right up, thankfully. Jaemin was satisfied as he watched you enter your phone number in his phone. This almost made him feel better about having to leave you alone to walk back to Jaehyun’s house in the rain.

Scratch that. He still felt like a piece of shit.

Jaemin slept off the party rather well.

He was in a bit of a mood, however, seeming tired and cranky in the morning. He had nearly thrown his phone at Jeno’s face when his best friend tried to shake him awake in the morning. It was a miracle that he showed up on time for his lecture. Around the afternoon, he received a text from you and was far more awake and alert after that. By the time he got to basketball, though, he was in a much better mood.

That is, until Jaehyun called for a team meeting.

The basketball team members were all sitting on the bleachers, waiting for a pissed-off Jaehyun to speak. Jeno picked at his nails next to Jaemin while YangYang in front of them was fiddling with the basketball. Jaehyun was only ever serious during games, but now his anger showed in a subtle and scary way that even Taeyong was a bit shaken by the change in his mood.

“Now, I’m going to say this once and you all better listen up carefully,” Jaehyun said in a low, dangerous voice. “If anyone—and I mean anyone—lays a hand on my little sister, then I will make sure you look uglier than you already are.”

Taeyong whistled lowly, impressed.

“Yuta,” Jaehyun continued, eyes narrowing at the older boy, “this message was inspired by you.”

“Received, reflecting, and apologizing,” Yuta said, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’ll back off, Captain.”

“Good,” Jaehyun replied curtly as Yuta and Taeyong started to banter playfully over the topic.

Jaemin was unsettled. Jaehyun was upset over someone going after his younger sister? Now, Yuta was a flirt, but he recalled him pining for you last night and there was no way you were Jaehyun’s sister, right?

“Hey, Jeno.” Jaemin nudged the boy with his elbow. “Who exactly is Jaehyun’s sister?”

“Isn’t it Jeong Y/N?” he answered.

Goodbye world, was Jaemin’s first thought.

Yuta was flirting with you last night, but Jaemin straight-up nearly fingered you and—oh god, the hickey. Jaemin was at the end of his line right now, and if you said anything to Jaehyun, he was sure he was going to get his ass beat. He was starting to regret giving up his non-hookup life because of you; the only person Jaemin was flirting with now was Death.

“You good?” Jeno’s brows were knitted in concern.

“Jeno.” Jaemin swallowed down the dry lump in his throat. “Remember how I told you I was with a girl last night?”

“Yeah?” Jeno asked, searching Jaemin’s eyes for an answer. He found it rather quickly, eyes widening and voice dropping to a whisper. “Oh my god.” His gaze flickered from Jaemin to Jaehyun several times. “What are you going to do?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Jaemin whispered back. “We were both drunk. I’ll just ghost her subtly and she’ll forget about me. Easy.”

Jeno raised a brow at his plan. “Is hooking up with Jaehyun’s little sister worse than breaking her heart?”

“Oh please, it was one night. Give it a day or two. She won’t give a fuck.” Even though I kind of do, he added in his head.

The next time Jaemin saw you was after practice ended a few days later.

It had to be impossible that you could look any better than you did the last time he saw you, but here you were. It was unfair, really. Jaemin was a college student that was amped up with testosterone and hormones, and now he had no place to channel it. He was a second away from dragging you into an empty room and letting himself go with you, but then he remembered your older brother, and the horny thoughts dissolved into fear and shame.

“Ah, Jaemin,” you greeted with a cheerful smile.

Fuck, why did you have to be so cute?

Jaemin opened his mouth to reply, but quickly closed it and looked away from you. He leaned against the side of the bleachers and sighed while you were puzzled by his behavior. Although he wanted to ignore you, you were right there and the two of you were alone. Jaemin knew that the other guys wouldn’t be out of the locker rooms for another five minutes.

His gaze dropped to your hickey. It was so clear that you didn’t bother trying to cover it up, and the sight made Jaemin feel proud in some twisted way. Instinctively, he reached over and brushed his thumb over the sensitive bruise, smirking when you shivered.

“It looks good on you,” Jaemin complimented.

“Thanks.” You scoffed, then a mischievous glint shone in your eyes. “Maybe you should give me some more then.”

Jaemin stiffened, in a lot more ways than he should’ve. He gritted his teeth, willing the blood not to rush down all at once. He could not get horny at school when Jaehyun could walk out any second. And the older boy did. Jaemin backed away from you instantly, acting as if you were just some stranger passing by.

“I’ll pass,” he muttered under his breath and was sure you heard when he saw your face drop.

Great. Now he felt like an asshole.

“I gotta go,” he mumbled quickly before you could say anything else, moving past you to walk over to Jeno, high-fiving Jaehyun as he did. Jaemin didn’t have time to register your expression, but nevertheless, he felt like shit.

Jeno looked suspicious as Jaemin approached him. “Did you…”

“End it?” Jaemin finished for him. “I think so.”

“Can you just stop being a dick and talk to her?”

Ticked off, Jaemin took a deep breath. “If I talk to her, then one thing will lead to another, and Jaehyun—”

“Jaemin,” Jeno interrupted. “This isn’t about Jaehyun. This is about you and Y/N.”

Jaemin screamed out something incomprehensible and put his hands over his ears. “I can’t hear you, Lee Jeno. Can’t hear you over me getting ready to go to a party and get wasted tonight.”

“Na Jaemin, you’re my best friend but you’re an idiot.”

“I know that.” Jaemin made a face. “But it’s time for me to go and forget that.”

Jaemin never failed to forget how much he hated parties. He was starting to regret showing up in the first place. One of his teammates, Jungwoo, had let him into his frat party. Normally, guys were selectively chosen because the frat boys wanted more girls, but Jaemin was wasting his opportunity of getting in by doing absolutely nothing.

This was why he didn’t like drinking. He wasn’t even fun when he was drunk; Jeno was a social butterfly, Yuta was a flirt, but Jaemin would just wonder if plants existed and think about you.

“You look pissed off,” Jungwoo observed, holding out a red dixie cup to him. “Are you sure you want to party?”

“Yes,” Jaemin grumbled, taking the cup from him and downing it in seconds. “I need to let go.”

“Of?”

“Myself.”

Jaemin patted Jungwoo’s back firmly and moved to the kitchen to pour himself another shot. He didn’t know what he was thinking. He let himself get all worked up over some girl he barely even hooked up with. All he did was kiss your neck and here Jaemin was, looking like some cheap, heartbroken loser.

Oh, Jaemin thought out of the blue. I never told her she was pretty.

Jaemin took another shot, closing his eyes firmly as he thought of laying next to you again under the stars. Your lips looked so soft and kissable, your eyes so curious and alluring. He tried to push it away and focus on the party and getting drunk, but you kept appearing in his head like a mirage.

Let go, Jaemin, he told himself. Indulge yourself.

Jaemin leaned against the counter, bored. He sloshed the contents of his cup around, taking another shot when he felt the buzz start to wear out. A pretty brunette walked past him, flashing a coy smile.

He supposed she was one of the cheerleaders, or maybe she was a sorority girl. Either way, she was attractive and Jaemin could use the physical contact tonight. Part of him felt like it was the wrong thing to do, but all he could think about was how annoying it was to overthink every little thing he did.

Jaemin made his way over to her, tapping people’s shoulders and maneuvering his way through the cramped frat house. Everyone was clustered like schools of fish. Jaemin hated this kind of environment, but nevertheless, he put on a mask and did his best to fit in.

“Hey,” he greeted the girl once he found her. “I’m Na Jaemin.”

She smiled in that pretty way again. “I know you. You’re on the basketball team.” She looked embarrassed for a moment, flushing as she tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear. “I bet you don’t know me, though.”

“I don’t,” Jaemin admitted, “but you have a gorgeous smile.”

She beamed at this. “Hey, could you hold my cup for a second?” she asked, holding out her red dixie cup to him.

You want me to hold your cup when you can barely hold a conversation? Jaemin thought distastefully but took the cup anyway.

He leaned against the kitchen counter and waited for her patiently, and when she came back, Jaemin could tell she had left to touch-up her makeup. He could also detect the faintest spritz of perfume, but he wasn’t exactly sure, so he leaned closer to make sure.

Jaemin wasn’t sure how they ended up making out in one of the empty bedrooms upstairs, but by the time she was taking off her bra, he wanted to leave. He did his best not to look as bored as he felt throughout the heavy petting and removal of clothing, but his biggest fuck-up was worse than he had expected.

Even Jaemin himself felt mortified by what had just escaped his lips. By the disgusted look in the girl’s eyes, he was fairly confident this was going to spread around the school. As Jaemin was trying to conjure up some excuse for his actions, the girl stood up and started gathering her clothes.

“I’m not Y/N,” she muttered and left him alone in the room.

“Well, shit,” Jaemin grumbled, running a hand through his tousled hair after she left. “Should’ve told me your name then.”

Jaemin laid back on the bed, putting his hands over his face. He was royally screwed at this point and wondered if he had a shot at redemption. The fact that you were still on his mind was messing with him. Even now, after totally embarrassing himself, he was still stuck on you. To avoid further embarrassment, he pulled out his phone to deflect whatever impulsive action was creeping up his limbs.

jaemin: ok jeno im texting u instead of drunk texting y/n and confessing how badly i wanna kiss her

y/n: hi this is y/n

Jaemin wondered what sin he committed in his past life to get this unlucky.

jaemin: shit

jaemin: don’t talk to me i’m drunk at a party

y/n: jaemin you texted me first

jaemin: ugh i wanna see u so bad

jaemin: wanna make it up to u

y/n: oh my

y/n: you’re a little too drunk for that

y/n: but send me the address. i’ll come over and take you home

Jaemin was 98.75% sure that this was, by far, the stupidest thing he could do. Nevertheless, he shared his address with you and waited for you to come to get him. He hung out with Jungwoo in the meantime, slinging an arm around the older boy’s shoulder and confessing his embarrassing hookup while Jungwoo was high as a kite.

When you texted Jaemin that you were outside the frat house, he opened the door almost instantly. Jaemin couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across his face when you were standing right in front of him. You opened your mouth to say something, but Jaemin cut you off.

“I might have… might have called out your name during a hookup,” he confessed, slurring his words while he tried to speak coherently.

You looked like you were deciding whether to think it was funny or be suspicious over the fact that he tried to hook up with someone and then texted you afterward. Eventually, you ended up laughing at his story, tutting at his actions. Jaemin walked by your side, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He closed his eyes in an attempt to come back to his senses, only to be dragged back onto the sidewalk by you because he was apparently straying into the road.

“How much did you drink?” was your first question and one that Jaemin wasn’t sure he had an answer for.

“Six? Seven shots?” Jaemin counted but lost track after he held up five fingers. “I haven’t gotten this hammered in a while.”

“You’ve been flighty,” you told him. “I thought I wasn’t going to hear from you again.”

Jaemin rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “That was the plan.”

“What?”

End it now, Jaemin, the devious half of his mind instructed. Break it off before it’s too late.

“I don’t exactly do hookups anymore, Y/N,” he said, which wasn’t exactly a lie, but you happened to break that streak for him. But then came the lie. “I’m not looking for anything serious now either, and I’m sure you aren’t.”

They walked in silence onto the campus grounds, turning into the street where the student apartments were. You looked down at your feet, a little more disappointed than Jaemin had expected. More than that, it looked as though you were embarrassed.

Cue Na Jaemin feeling like a douchebag, which he was.

“Aren’t you the one who asked if I wanted to get to know you?” you asked him, brow arched.

Jaemin panicked, his words trapped in his throat for a second. Well, you got him there. He didn’t have a good excuse that made him sound less of a dick. Although, he was already probably about to be blacklisted from your life pretty soon, so it didn’t really matter.

“I was drunk,” Jaemin said as his brain was trying to throw random words at him. “I didn’t know what I was thinking.”

They made it to Jaemin’s apartment, which was thankfully on the first floor because he didn’t think he could stand an awkward elevator ride with you. You didn’t look at Jaemin once, but it didn’t seem as though you were angry. Rather, you looked confused, but Jaemin swallowed down his guilt and took a step back once they were at his door.

“Besides,” he continued shamelessly to deliver the final blow, “you always have Yuta.”

You rolled your eyes at him and stormed off at once after those words. Jaemin was left alone, still looking down at his feet. He let out a long, dragged-out sigh, hitting his head back against the solid wood of his door.

“Idiot,” he scolded himself.

It took Jaemin a whole week and a half to get over you.

Even then, he didn’t really get over what happened. He just stopped blaming himself for it in front of Jeno and internalized everything else. Talking to Jeno didn’t really help, anyway, because Jaemin would just be hit with the “I told you so” and then be silently judged by his best friend.

Jeno had gone home for the long weekend, though, so Jaemin could finally mope about his apartment without Jeno smacking him upside the head and calling him a loser. Although Jaemin agreed with that, he was tired of remembering how shitty of a person and it was a constant reminder of how he treated you.

Although, he didn’t expect that reminder to physically manifest when he saw you in the hallway of his apartment on Friday night.

“Y/N?” he blurted out impulsively.

Jaemin had just decided to get something from the vending machine, not expecting to see you when he was standing in front of his doorway in his grey sweatpants and lack of shirt. His hair was bedraggled from staying in bed all day after his morning lecture ended. In short, he wasn’t exactly presentable and this wasn’t the look he wanted you to see.

“Jaemin,” you said softly, looking a bit startled. “I was just leaving my friend’s place.”

“Look—”

“It’s fine, Jaemin.” You managed a small smile for him. “There’s no hard feelings, okay? Water under the bridge.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you said, biting your lip afterward. “I just hope you’re not one of those guys who ghosts the girl if they don’t get sex out of it.”

Jaemin could feel the ice in your tone but brushed it off. “Honestly, I don’t care about sex that much.”

“Then what do you care about?”

Jaemin fixed his gaze on you, narrowing his eyes. He should have been grateful that you didn’t take it too personally and had forgiven him, but something was off. He didn’t doubt your reasons for being here, but an undercurrent of desire was definitely still there.

His morals were bouncing around his skull, warring with each other. Jaehyun was yelling at him to stop, but you were also there, and so fucking pretty. You wanted him, and he wanted you—it was almost perfect if it weren’t for your overprotective older brother who Jaemin respected too much. Then again, Jaemin had been shouldering too much guilt over the past week. He was sure he could handle some more.

What Jaehyun didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, right?

The hallway was empty, doused with lingering sleep. The world was dark outside but under the dim, flickering hallway light was you. And Jaemin was at his limit; he couldn’t get enough of you.

“Jaemin?” you asked, and something inside him snapped.

He grabbed your hands first before pushing you up against the wall and sealing his lips over yours. Your face morphed into a shocked expression, only making Jaemin amused as he pinned your hands up and over your head. Your lips were so warm and soft, molding against Jaemin’s lips perfectly. He felt your hands wrap around his neck to draw him closer, inciting a soft groan from the back of his throat. It was kind of pathetic that he was already hard, and he was sure you were aware of it by how he was pressed up against your lower body.

Jaemin picked you up effortlessly, scooping you into his arms by your thighs. You let out a little shriek and grabbed onto his shoulders, wrapping your legs around his torso at his encouragement. Jaemin took you into his room, kicking the door closed with his foot before heading to his room and dropping you on his bed.

He had never actually let a girl into his room, so this was a first. Somehow, seeing you on his own bed was so arousing, and he had half a mind to just take you then and there. Jaemin made you sit at the edge of the bed while he stood between your legs, hands on your thighs. You looked confused for a moment, but let Jaemin run his hands up and down your thighs.

You and Jaemin should not be in bed together. Under no circumstances should the two of you even be acquainted in the slightest. The fact that you two met was all one big, cosmic coincidence, but sometimes the stars loved fucking around with human affairs.

“I told you I had to make it up to you,” Jaemin said in a low voice, running his thumb across your bottom lip. “You don’t have to forgive me but I can’t keep being a coward.”

“A coward? More like a douchebag,” you told him, holding his wrist so you could bite the tip of his finger as you looked up at him through your lashes. “But glad you came to your senses.”

“So you forgive me then?”

You smiled, all innocent and pure, unlike your words. “Not unless you make it up to me.”

Jaemin dropped his gaze down to your shorts, eyeing them for a moment before he started tugging them down. You raised your hips to help him take your shorts off, followed by your panties. Jaemin nearly sighed at the sight of you; you were so gorgeous and so ready for him. He wanted to completely blow your mind.

Then, the nerves got to Jaemin again.

“Y/N,” he started, “we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. We can just cuddle or something.”

“Na Jaemin, if you don’t make me cum, I will scream,” you warned.

“Yeah?” Jaemin chuckled at your reaction. “I think you’re going to scream either way, though.”

“Shut up.”

Jaemin laughed, brushing your hair out of your face. He caressed your cheek, rubbing slow circles with his thumb before he dragged it down to your jawline. A small pout appeared on your lips and he ran his thumb over your bottom lip again as if he could wipe your pout away.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” Jaemin said.

Before you could open your mouth to say something, Jaemin plunged his finger in you, thumb quickly finding purchase on your clit and rubbing in slow, languid circles. He wasn’t very satisfied by your shell-shocked silence, so he added a second finger to get you moaning and squirming at his actions.

You gasped when Jaemin curled his fingers, and he relished the dazed expression on your face. He watched your eyelashes flutter and eyelids droop as he scissored his fingers in you, earning him blissful moans from your pretty lips. One of your hands was gripping the sheets at your side while the other was gripping Jaemin’s shoulder tightly. He knew he was doing a good job by the way your walls clenched around his fingers, and it made him swell with pride.

“You’re such an asshole,” you whimpered out, moaning again as he curled his fingers in you.

“Then why do you still want me?” Jaemin hissed. “You should have just hated me. I would have been fine if you weren’t so fucking perfect.”

You cried out as he plunged another finger in you. “Shit, you’re just—oh god.” Jaemin could tell you were at your peak, so he pulled his fingers out of you immediately, smirking at how distressed you looked.

Jaemin popped his fingers in his mouth, sucking off your juices. “You taste so good, princess.”

You scowled at him. “F-finish me off, at least,” you pleaded.

Jaemin gripped your thighs. “Oh, trust me, I will.”

Jaemin lowered himself and met your eyes before he leaned forward and sealed his lips over your clit, sucking harshly on the ball of nerves. You were so sweet and so wet, but what made Jaemin go crazy was the way the both of you locked eyes while he was between your legs. He let out a groan that vibrated against you.

He licked a strip along your slit, pleased with his reward of pants and moans from you. Your thighs squirmed around him so he gripped them harder and moved his hands up to your hips so he could eat you out with more vigor.

Jaemin snaked his tongue along your folds and you were gone. Already edged from being fingered, you were at your peak already. Back arching off the bed and hips squirming, Jaemin tongued your clit as he coaxed you into your orgasm. By the sound of your moans and cries, he felt like he was going to cum in his pants any second if you didn’t stop. You released over his tongue so easily, and Jaemin lapped it up as you made an effort to catch your breath.

At first, Jaemin was over the moon. He hooked up with you and wanted more. You were so enticing and Jaemin couldn’t get enough of you. Then came the crushing guilt. It registered a bit late, but it was all the more painful. He had just eaten out his friend’s little sister and couldn’t help the fact that he wanted her so badly.

“Not bad, Jaemin,” you breathed out, fixing your hair as your thighs still stiffened and twitched every now and then. “Is this the part where you push me away and ghost me for another week?”

Jaemin ran a hand through his hair, battling frustration and shame. “Look,” he started, “the reason I pushed you away was because you didn’t tell me your brother is Jeong Jaehyun!”

“Oh.” You blinked at him. “Yeah, he’s my brother. Is that a problem?” Jaemin let out a heavy sigh and you raised a brow at him. “You got a crush on him or something?”

Jaemin’s expression soured. “No! He’s my friend and teammate, Y/N. There’s an unspoken bro code between us men.”

You rolled your eyes. “Here we go.”

“Rule number one of bro code states that sisters are completely off-limits,” Jaemin said. “And, Y/N, we just pushed that limit.”

“You know, in girl code, we ask the friend for permission,” you offered.

“Jaehyun rounded us up at practice and told us that if anyone lays a hand on his little sister, he’s going to kill them,” Jaemin said. “I’m too young to die.”

You stood up to push Jaemin down by his shoulders, sitting him on the edge of the bed. Jaemin’s breath got caught in his throat when you sat on his lap, right where his bulge was painfully tented beneath his sweatpants. You traced his v-cut abs, making Jaemin shiver in response. He held your hips and swallowed thickly. He was pretty sure he knew where this was going. If you were about to ride him, he was sure he could die a happy man.

“Jaemin, my brother doesn’t control my life, so he’s not killing you over anything, okay?” you reassured him, then leaned in closer, nibbling on his earlobe. Jaemin shivered at the contact, tightening his grip on you. “But, if you’re so worried about it, then we could sneak around.”

A guttural groan escaped Jaemin when you rolled your hips against his. Were you teasing him? Because it was hard for him to think and this distraction wasn’t helping. Either way, all he could think about was making you cum again and seeing that delicate look on your face as you crumbled in front of him.

“Sneak—sneak around?” Jaemin stammered, mouth going dry when you started taking off your shirt, and fuck, you weren’t wearing a bra. “Huh?”

“Jaemin,” you said slowly, smirking as you traced a finger along his jawline. “If you don’t want Jaehyun to catch us, we can just meet up secretly.”

If this was a game of cat and mouse, there was a clear power difference right now; Jaemin felt more like the mouse while you were the cat.

Jaemin’s eyes darkened a bit. “Fuck yeah,” he mumbled, hand grazing your bare skin. His eyes devoured the way you looked, and you wanted to squirm at the hungry look on his face. It was kind of embarrassing how badly Jaemin wanted to skip this whole conversation and fuck you into oblivion.

“Jaemin,” you called again, noting how his eyes flitted from your lips to your eyes.

He gave up. “I’ll be honest. I have no idea what we’re talking about but if we’re keeping this going between us, I’m all for it.”

“Good answer,” you hummed and pressed your lips to his.

You were a damn good kisser, Jaemin observed. He didn’t notice it before, but you had on some sort of fruity chapstick on that was making his head go fuzzy. The taste was addicting, and thank god you bit down on his lower lip because he wasn’t sure if he could handle another second without his tongue in your mouth.

He pulled away for a moment so he could push you down onto the bed, getting over you. Jaemin sighed deeply as you skimmed your hands down his bare chest, fingers tugging at the waistband of his sweatpants.

“You know, I lied that night,” you told Jaemin, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’m not usually down for whatever, but I wanted to try my chance with you.”

Jaemin tutted at you, circling a finger around your nipple. “You shouldn’t have lied, Y/N,” he said, making you whimper when he pinched your hard nipple. “Could’ve stroked my ego a little more.”

“Sorry, but I’m not here to stroke your ego, Jaemin,” you simpered, choking over your words when Jaemin pressed open-mouthed kisses to your chest, eventually snaking his hot tongue across your nipple.

“You already are,” Jaemin murmured against your skin, littering hickeys as he kissed your chest. “Your reactions are so cute.”

Jaemin sucked on his fingers for a brief moment to provide some extra lubrication, not that you really needed it. He used his pointer and middle finger to rub against your slit, your whines growing needier as you became more and more aroused. After one more needy mewl from your lips, Jaemin had enough. He tugged his sweatpants and boxers down in one go, his hard cock slapping against his stomach once it was free.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned brokenly, eyeing the length of his cock.

“Such a good girl,” he crooned down at you, teasing his cock against your slit until you were a gasping, moaning mess under him. Then, Jaemin pulled away, clicking his tongue and grinning while you narrowed your eyes at him. “Condom,” he remembered.

Jaemin got off the bed to retrieve the silver packet from his nightstand, tearing it open with his teeth in one go. He caught you staring at how incredibly hung he was, smirking proudly as he slid the condom onto his shaft. He pumped it once for good measure and moved back onto the bed with you.

He stayed on his knees, angling your hips up so that they were positioned with his cock. You looked confused by the awkward position, but Jaemin melted away your worries with a powerful thrust into you. He groaned at how tight you were with your warm, wet walls clenching around him rhythmically.

Jaemin could tell he was hitting all the right spots by the broken moans that were escaping you when he pounded in you. His own growls were low and grating, relishing the way you felt around him. You were clutching his sheets so tight and bucking your hips so often that Jaemin had to use a hand to push your lower abdomen down, smirking as he felt his cock move in and out of you.

“You’re so big,” you gasped out, looking visibly frustrated at how you couldn’t hold onto him.

“Princess, I regret not doing this earlier,” Jaemin admitted with another rough thrust into you, making you sob out some distorted version of his name. “You feel so fucking good.”

“I’m close,” you choked out, and Jaemin kindly aided you by rubbing your clit as he brutally fucked you into the mattress.

You tucked your head into your shoulder, biting back your cries, so Jaemin grabbed your hair in a fistful and tilted it back so he could see your face. A shudder ran down his spine. Your expression was so perfect, so fucked in and glazed over.

“Shit,” he growled, voice raspy from arousal as you came undone in front of him.

His nimble fingers continued to work on your clit as you fell apart, moans ringing in his ears like a song. He followed you into your bliss, unable to hold back. He leaned over you and continued fucking you through your orgasm, holding you and groaning as he, too, released.

Jaemin stopped when he was done and spent. His arms buckled as they struggled to keep himself over you, and he could only pull out and collapse by your side. He muttered out a few curses, struggling to find the right words to say as he stared up at the ceiling. That felt good? No, too dry. I’m the only one who gets to fuck you like that? No, too possessive.

He settled with “you’re amazing” as his chest rose and fell in tune with yours.

“Likewise,” you breathed out and looked over at him. “I have to go home soon.”

Jaemin didn’t know what came over him, but he rolled over and wrapped his arms around you tightly. Normally, he wasn’t one for cuddling or aftercare, but he didn’t want you to go so soon. You relaxed under his touch as Jaemin drew you closer to his body, pulling the sheets over you both.

“Don’t go,” Jaemin whispered, tucking some hair behind your ear.

You turned to look at him, running your finger along his cheek tenderly. “Jaehyun’s gonna ask.”

Jaemin threw the sheets off of you and stood up quickly. “Have a safe trip back.”

It was the very next day when Jaemin hooked up with you again.

You had sent him a rather suggestive text, stating that you found it strenuous to walk after the previous night. In some sick and twisted way, Jaemin found this extremely hot and invited you over that night. Needless to say, you found it even more difficult to walk afterward.

The next day was the last day of the long weekend, so you spent nearly the entire day at Jaemin’s place before Jeno came home. Sure, you had sex once or twice then, but Jaemin really liked having you around. Even when you both weren’t exactly doing anything, your mere presence was comforting to him. In past hookups with other girls, he would always just get up and leave after the deed was done. However, with you, he was suddenly a sucker for aftercare.

Jaemin still felt like shit for going behind Jaehyun’s back and he was starting to question his stealth when Jeno came back home and discovered your bra on the couch.

“Oh, that’s where it was,” Jaemin said blankly, taking the bra from Jeno. “By the way, how was visiting your family?”

Jeno was still stuck on the bra, however. “Hold on,” he started, “whose bra is that?”

“Mine.”

“You wear bras?”

“What? No.” Jaemin made a face. “The fuck?”

“Na Jaemin, did you sleep with a random girl on our couch?”

“First of all, it wasn’t a random girl. It was Y/N,” Jaemin defended. “And secondly, we did it against the wall, actually. The couch was just a poor observer.”

“I don’t know if I should be impressed or disgusted,” Jeno replied, pondering over his best friend’s words. He glanced back at the wall and inched away from it. “Did you figure out what you’re going to do about Jaehyun?”

Jaemin grinned sheepishly. “I mean, what Jaehyun doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?”

“What happened to the Jaemin who was trying to ghost his sister?”

“He got laid.”

“This is so gonna backfire on you,” Jeno replied, shaking his head. “But I kind of want to watch it happen.”

“Dude,” Jaemin whined, rubbing his chin with his hand. “I broke the bro code so hard, but honestly, the sex is too good.”

“Jaemin, I don’t want to hear about your sexcapades, thanks.”

The next time Jaemin hooked up with you was almost an absolute disaster.

Keyword: almost.

“Jeno,” Jaemin warbled in a desperate cry, “I’m fucked. I’m absolutely fucked.”

“What’s up?” came the disinterested voice of his best friend who was sprawled out on the couch, flipping listlessly through a textbook.

“I need you to help me out,” Jaemin begged. “Y/N wants me to go over to her place but Jaehyun’s home.”

That was how Jaemin ended up behind your house, trying to hoist himself up onto a tree that was close to your window. Jeno was on the phone, keeping a lookout from his car that was parked on the street. This was, quite honestly, probably one of the stupidest things Jaemin had ever done because not only did he have a fear of heights, but he was risking his life just for his friend not to see him walking in the house.

There was something about hanging onto the branch of a tree for dear life that made a man question his pride.

“All this for some pussy,” Jeno tutted through his AirPods.

“Shut up, Jeno,” Jaemin muttered, a flush of heat rising to his cheeks. Truth be told, he just really wanted to see you, not that he would admit that.

He hauled himself onto one of the thicker branches that led to your window and inched his way along it to reach the windowsill. A frown crossed his lips as he reached out to knock on the glass. You told him you’d keep the window open for him, so why was it closed?

The answer was obvious, but it didn’t sink in until Jaehyun opened the window to see Jaemin dangling from a tree branch.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, was all that was running through his mind. His head felt like it was going a thousand miles per second but the rest of his body was short-circuiting.

“Jaemin, what are you doing outside my window?” Jaehyun asked, looking absolutely perturbed.

“I’m, uh…” Jaemin paused to think while he could hear Jeno laughing at him through his AirPods. “Jeno and I wanted to prank you.”

“Jeno? Prank?” Jaehyun questioned. “Are you not here for a study session with Y/N?”

Jaemin stilled. He wasn’t sure he had any classes with you, but surely you must have made up this excuse to Jaehyun so that Jaemin could be in your house freely. Jeno’s laughing intensified as Jaemin blinked at his team captain.

“Right, well—”

“Jaemin, what are you doing there?” your sweet, innocent voice rang from Jaehyun’s door.

There was a mischievous glint in your eyes despite how concerned you tried to look. Jaemin saw right through you, though, and grimaced.

“Just… hanging out,” Jaemin grunted out as he tried to crawl in through Jaehyun’s window.

Jaehyun reached his hand out to help Jaemin and dragged him through the window with ease, so smooth that Jaemin pretended he didn’t hit his head against the side of the frame of the window as he was pulled inside. The tree branch bounced back to its original position, its leaves rustling wildly once Jaemin’s weight was off of them. Jaehyun helped Jaemin dust himself off and grabbed one of his shoulders firmly, using his free hand to pat his back.

“Jaemin,” Jaehyun said slowly, “use the door next time.”

“Got it,” Jaemin croaked out.

“We can go to my room and study, Jaemin,” you piped up, turning on your heel to head back to your room as soon as you were sure you had his attention.

“Right, um… see you, man,” Jaemin told Jaehyun, awkwardly following after you after Jaehyun returned the goodbye.

Jaemin had been to Jaehyun’s house for parties, but being there in the daytime was unnerving. He ended the call with Jeno, quickly texting him that he was safe before stuffing his phone and AirPods in his pockets. Jaemin turned the corner to see you sitting cross-legged on the floor of your room. A loud sigh escaped his lips before he made his way in, closing the door behind him.

“You’re paying for that,” he warned.

“Oh yeah?” you asked, a laugh falling from your lips just before Jaemin strode over, pushing you down onto the floor and hovering over you. You parted your lips to speak but whatever you were going to say died on your tongue as Jaemin swooped in and kissed you.

This is a terrible place to be doing this, the rational side of Jaemin’s brain provided, but then he was kissing you and it didn’t matter anymore.

Jaemin lost himself in the kiss as soon as he was tasting your fruity chapstick. He cupped your jaw, intoxicated by the way your lips felt against his. He was so dazed that he hardly noticed you unzipping his pants, tugging them down by his belt loops.

“Aren’t we studying?” Jaemin teased, brushing his nose against yours. He glanced over at the mess of books and papers at your table.

“Mm, do you want to study instead?” you asked, drawing him closer to you. “Pass up on this and read up on some cell division?”

“Fuck no.” Jaemin scoffed, dragging his nails up your thigh. “Spread those legs for me, angel.”

A mewl escaped your lips when you spread your legs because Jaemin immediately started palming your apex without missing a beat. The burst of pride that followed made him a little braver, a little less worrisome over your older brother.

“Take off your pants,” you breathed out, tugging once more at his waistband.

“No.” Jaemin moved off of you and hauled himself up to sit on your bed. “I want you to ride my thigh.” His eyes practically devoured the way you looked. “And keep the skirt on.”

You stood up, biting your lip as you moved to straddle his right thigh. Jaemin’s hands ran up and down your thighs, moving up to your hips eventually to rub slow circles with his thumb. His lips were attached to your neck almost immediately, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column.

You let a whimper slip from your lips and Jaemin started bouncing his leg steadily, his muscular thigh rubbing against your clit. He guided your movements with his hands as you rolled your hips against him. Jaemin flexed his thigh every once in a while and made sure to pull you down on him whenever he could make use of the friction.

Another moan from you and Jaemin sneered. “You’re getting off so well on my thigh, Y/N. Such a fucking tease but you react so easily.” You whined again and Jaemin shushed you. “Be quiet, princess. We don’t want to be walked in on, right?”

And, because the world hated Jaemin, Jaehyun decided to walk in.

“Y/N, can I come in for a second?” he called from outside the door.

In an instant, you practically flew off of Jaemin’s lap, scrambling back to your table and burying your nose in your biology textbook. There were a few long seconds of Jaemin silently communicating with you out of frustration. You had escaped just fine, but Jaemin just had to get a hard-on, and now that you were off his lap, it was far too obvious through his pants.

But you already told Jaehyun he could come in, so Jaemin put both hands over his crotch in a valiant (but stupid) effort to hide his boner while the door opened.

“I’m going to the store,” Jaehyun said, looking between you and Jaemin from the doorway. “Want anything?”

“No, we’re good,” you replied, but Jaehyun’s eyes were fixed on Jaemin, narrowing slightly.

“I’ll get going then, but are you good?” Jaehyun asked, gesturing at the awkward position Jaemin was in. “The bathroom’s across the hall if you need to go.”

Jaemin’s eyes flitted to yours to see an amused look on your face, and he could practically hear your voice bouncing in his skull: This is fun.

This wasn’t exactly Jaemin’s textbook dictionary definition of fun, however.

“Thanks,” Jaemin croaked out, looking down at his lap in shame. A flush of red crossed his cheeks and you barked out a laugh as soon as Jaehyun was gone. “Not funny,” he grumbled out.

An impish grin crossed your face as you asked, “Need me to take care of your problem?”

“Please,” Jaemin almost begged.

The moment you stood up, Jaemin was quickly trying to tug his pants down, hooking his fingers in the waistband of his boxers to take them off with his pants. This was awful in the absolutely best way possible because Jaemin’s hands felt clammy but then you were kneeling down in front of him, helping him take his pants off. You looked up at Jaemin when his hard cock curved up against his stomach. A breath escaped his lips like it had been punched out of him and he wondered if his eyes were as comically wide as they felt.

When the sound of Jaehyun closing the front door echoed, you grasped Jaemin’s painfully hard cock in your soft hands. Jaemin’s tongue felt like lead in his mouth. He couldn’t even ask you to do anything with all his bravado from earlier suddenly vanishing. So, he curled a hand in your hair, more for his own leverage.

Jaemin’s stomach rearranged itself to feel like some crazed etch-a-sketch rather than the human anatomy when he felt your lips wrap around his cock.

“Shit, that’s it,” he growled when you went down on him. He flushed all over, clear in the way his cock twitched in your mouth, and it made him feel like some silly, lovesick teenager. “Oh god, you feel so good with your mouth wrapped around my cock, princess.”

A sound of approval came from your throat, vibrating against the throbbing vein along Jaemin’s shaft and making him go crazy. You bobbed your head up and down, teasing him by going so slow to the point that it was nearly unbearable for Jaemin. He felt like a coil of fire was tightly woven inside him, ready to snap at any given moment.

“Fuck… don’t tease me—wait, are you asleep?”

Jaemin looked down to see you half-asleep on his cock, lips brushing against the vein along the side. Your eyes weren’t hooded but fluttered shut, head lolling to the side and your tongue grazing the underside of his head. A hiss escaped Jaemin’s lips at your teasing, but he felt more incredulous than turned on.

“I’m tired,” you said, “and you didn’t finish me off, so why should I finish you off?”

“Well, this is just unfair,” Jaemin replied with a frustrated huff as you pulled off of him. His gaze softened when he saw you rub your eyes, though. He fumbled for a moment, pulling his boxers and pants back up and tucking away the frustration of not getting his release. “You’re actually tired?”

“Kind of,” you admitted. “I’ve been studying my ass off all week for midterms.”

“Okay, well…” Jaemin faltered before scooting back on your bed until he was against the wall. “Let’s take a nap then.”

“Nap? Oh, so we—oh, okay,” you mumbled and Jaemin’s heart skipped a few beats when he saw you suck in your lower lip nervously.

You crawled into your bed and laid down, pulling the covers over them after Jaemin moved so he was right next to you. Jaemin had never exactly slept with a girl like this, but with you, his chest felt warm. It felt right. Without a word, he pulled you to his chest so you wouldn’t have to see how nervous you were making him feel, praying you couldn’t hear his heart pounding in his chest.

“You’re warm,” you mumbled to him.

And, because Jaemin was a loser who feared rejection and the reality that he was an actual human who felt real emotions, he pressed his lips to your head and whispered into your hair, “I like you.”

If you heard him or noticed, Jaemin wouldn’t have known because falling asleep was so much easier with you in his arms.

“You slept with her? Like, without sex?” Jeno asked Jaemin that night, to which he nodded. “You didn’t hook up with her at all?”

“Jaehyun walked in the first time and the second time… let’s not get into that,” Jaemin replied. “The point is, we fucking cuddled, Jeno.”

“That’s kinda weird.”

“Right?” Jaemin tugged a hand through his hair, letting out an aggravated groan. “Maybe I shouldn’t go to Jaehyun’s place on Friday.”

Parties were one thing, but at least once a month, the basketball team would hold bonding events for everyone to unwind and chill. Jaemin usually attended every event since he was close with all of the members, but Jaehyun’s house became dangerous territory now because of you. However, Jaemin was expected to take the place of team captain when Jaehyun graduated, so he knew it would be bad if he didn’t attend all the socials the basketball team held.

“Why? Can’t keep it in your pants?” Jeno teased.

Jaemin threw a pillow at him. “Fuck off.”

“It’s been postponed to the end of the month, anyway,” Jeno assured. “Jaehyun said he had a date this Friday or something.”

“Then I’m safe for now.”

It got silent for a moment before Jeno asked, “Are you catching feelings?”

Silence.

Did Jaemin like you? Sure, he mumbled it for himself to hear when he was holding you, which was pretty suspicious of him to do that if he didn’t actually have any feelings toward you. He perfectly understood the feeling at an intellectual level, but absorbing it emotionally was beyond his realm of understanding. Plus, there was no point in having feelings for someone if they didn’t reciprocate.

Right?

Jaemin only had a few crushes before, and the feelings were so surface-level that he started to wonder how many aspects of life he had missed out on because of his inability to grow close to people. That was why he had confined himself to the hookup culture because the “no strings attached” aspect was so appealing to him, but now it was backfiring because of you. It was so fucked up because Jaemin didn’t even want to fuck around with you anymore. Scratch that. He did, but he also wanted to hold your hand, go on dates, and kiss you until your fruity chapstick made him dizzy again.

You were great in bed, but what got Jaemin’s heart racing was the way you laughed when he made a lame joke and you couldn’t get over how terrible it was; the way you told stories with your hands, and your face would light up because you would get so excited; the way the food you made looked absolutely nauseating but, for whatever reason, it tasted amazing, and Jaemin could go on, but he was afraid he’d start melting in front of Jeno.

“No way,” Jaemin lied. “It’s just for the sex, that’s all.”

It wasn’t fair that you always showed up at the one place Jaemin was most vulnerable: basketball practice.

Truth be told, you were causing Jaemin problems well before you even arrived. Hell, you had been causing problems for the past three weeks. Not that Jaemin hated it, but he couldn’t keep it in his pants every time you dragged him to a blind spot or invited him to your place. There were also times where Jaemin would just simply walk with you, or talk about your day in bed, or just hold your hand and stroke your hair until you fell asleep.

Pretty weird for fuckbuddies.

Earlier in the day, Jaemin had run into you while he was walking to his biology lecture, and after some light conversation, he had you pinned up against the back of a building. He ended up getting a very noticeable hickey on his neck from you that he didn’t know existed until Jaehyun pointed it out during practice.

“Jaemin.” Jaehyun let out a low whistle and gestured to his neck. “Finally got over your weird celibacy phase?”

“What are you—”

“Nice hickey,” Yuta complimented while he was passing by, “finally got laid, huh?”

Only then did Jaemin realize that you had marked up his neck, and did so proudly. You knew people would see but you still went ahead and did it. Jaemin would’ve been mad but somehow, the thought of showing off something you caused turned him on.

Thankfully, you showed up when practice had ended and the others were heading into the locker room, all sweaty and tired. Absorbed in their own conversations, the rest of Jaemin’s teammates were focused on talking about their last play and looking forward to a cold shower. Jaemin, however, did a double-take when he saw you, nudging Jeno to keep going while he stayed back.

You really had no good reason coming to the basketball courts. It wasn’t like you or your big brother actually wanted to walk home together.

“I’m starting to think you come here to see me,” Jaemin said smugly, making his way over to you.

“Not even,” you replied, although your fazed look said otherwise. “But I appreciate the eye candy.”

Jaemin reached out to take your hands in his and pulled you toward him. You looked down at your feet, right foot circling around one of the stray basketballs that had been left behind during practice. Jaemin, however, had his eyes focused on you. He couldn’t get tired of looking at you, especially when you were wearing that cozy purple sweater that made him want to pull you into his arms.

Jaemin noticed your foot on the basketball and held your hands a little tighter as you put your weight on it to get your other foot on. You were shakily balancing on it, grabbing Jaemin’s hands tightly as a grin slowly spread across your face.

You’re too cute, was what Jaemin wanted to say.

“You’re still shorter than me even when you’re standing on a basketball,” he teased instead, one hand slipping around your waist to keep you steady.

You pouted. “I’m basically the same height as you now.”

“Really?” Jaemin smirked at your expression, moving closer so that his lips were at your forehead. He moved his hands so they were both holding your waist, keeping you planted on the basketball. “I think I still have an inch or two on you.”

“That’s not fair,” you whispered, but Jaemin was tilting your chin up and smiling at how you were visibly growing shy. “Jaemin, my brother might walk out any second.”

“Fuck your brother,” Jaemin murmured and kissed you.

People threw around the term “time slowed down” so casually, that Jaemin believed it was a silly hoax; however, he was starting to understand it. Each kiss he shared with you before felt so rushed, but now, everything around him didn’t matter anymore. It was like every fear, every concern he had was lost as he was lost in the taste of your lips.

Your hands cupped his face, deepening the kiss and making Jaemin nearly forget that you were barely balancing on a basketball. He tightened his hold around you when you pulled a hand away to run through his hair and god, he relished that feeling. When he desperately needed air again, Jaemin pulled away, nipping at your bottom lip cheekily as he did so.

He didn’t want to see your reaction, though, so he pulled you down from the basketball and hugged you, burying his face into the crook of your neck. You were visually overwhelming, anyway, and Jaemin wasn’t too keen on seeing your reaction to his tenderness. Jaemin felt like such a melt for being this affected over a simple kiss, but all he wanted at the moment was to be closer to you.

“Jaemin?” you asked, shocked by his sudden intimacy.

“Shut up,” he murmured into your neck, “I just want to hold you right now.”

“Bruh.”

Jaemin didn’t process the fact that a third person was in the gym until it registered that the masculine voice couldn’t have been coming from you. On the bright side, the voice came from the one person who knew about whatever was going on between you and Jaemin. He then wondered why he was starting to become an optimist.

You and Jaemin both pulled away quickly like repelling magnets. There was a flicker of panic in your eyes, seeming to cool down when you noticed that Jaemin wasn’t freaking out. It was quite devastating for Jaemin to come to realize that he was the standard for what to worry over.

Jaemin, not sparing you a glance, walked over to where his best friend was standing and shoved him, not straying from his direct route to the locker room.

“You have some explaining to do,” Jeno muttered before Jaemin passed him.

“Fuck off, Jeno.”

Jeno flashed a sheepish grin at you before turning back to follow Jaemin, patting him firmly on the back to tease him. Jaemin, however, was unsettled. Whatever he felt for you was moving past sexual attraction to something much deeper, and he wasn’t sure if he could suppress it any longer.

You truly were the cat, and although Jaemin refused to believe it, you had already caught him.

Jeno somehow managed to stay quiet about what had happened between you and Jaemin until after they reached their apartment. Jaemin almost believed he was going to pretend like he didn’t see anything, but it would be laughable to think that Lee Jeno wouldn’t mock him about it.

“That’s the thing with fuckbuddies,” Jeno explained as he shrugged off his coat, “someone’s gonna catch feelings eventually.”

“Thanks, Jeno,” Jaemin spat, tone laced with sarcasm. “You never cease to make me feel like shit.”

“So you admit that you caught feelings?”

It was like an arrow through a bullseye, not that Jaemin was going to admit to that, but the thought of him potentially catching feelings for you was terrifying. It was even more frightening because he probably already did. This was supposed to be the time where Jaemin blanched and would become shockingly avoidant around you, but he was waiting for those instincts to kick in rather than the desperate urge to run over and kiss you.

But, moreover, screw Lee Jeno for majoring in neuroscience. His best friend studying the human brain and its cognition was the worst thing that could have ever happened to Jaemin.

Jaemin paused, hesitating before he spoke, “No… I’m just worried that one of us will.”

Jeno raised a brow at him. “Whatever you two were doing was not normal for fuckbuddies.”

“It’s called hugging, Jeno. It’s not my fault you have the emotional range of a teaspoon.”

Jaemin moved to sit on the couch, turning his back to Jeno and hugging a pillow as he shrunk back into the cushion. But Jeno knew that Jaemin always listened to what he had to say. It was a natural instinct by now. Although Jaemin would rather die than say it aloud, his best friend always gave the best advice even though it was probably not what Jaemin wanted to hear.

“Are you okay?” Jeno asked instead.

Jaemin froze. He was never any good at expressing himself. He presented himself as a simple man on the outside, but he was really just layers of multitudes. But, sometimes, your mere attention was like uncut cocaine to him, and then Jaemin would wonder if he really was simple.

“I’m fine,” Jaemin muttered back.

“You’re good at being fine, aren’t you?”

Jeno fastidiously fixed his hair before he retreated to his room. Jaemin was surprised by how he cut the advice session this time and left Jaemin to his own thoughts.

Exhausted, Jaemin stared at his lock screen. It was a picture of you and him at a park. Ducks in the pond. You caught off-guard with hair in your mouth. Jaemin with a smile brighter than the sun. Who the fuck took selfies with girls they fucked on the down-low? And who the fuck set them as their wallpapers? Apparently, Jaemin did.

He was sick.

Maybe Jeno was right, but Jaemin refused to accept that possibility because that would make him even more disgusted with himself.

He could only think of one thing and it was how he was in love with you.

Sex was one thing, but love? The number one rule of best friendship was probably don’t fucking fall in love with your best friend’s sister.

Furthermore, Jaemin didn’t know how to act around you now. In the conspectus of Things That Could Go Wrong in his brain, he hadn’t anticipated actually falling for you. He should’ve taken your godsent looks and heavenly laugh as a red flag that first night because now he was addicted.

It wasn’t like Jaemin had absolutely zero experience with girls, but usually, he just went with it. Being the one chasing after you was mentally taxing and the thought of you possibly not wanting him back was unthinkable. Then again, it was pretty clear that it was mutual between the two of you, but Jaemin was confident that you were a breath away from snapping at him for his inconsistency.

He was the one that pushed you away, after all. A sudden transition from resisting to wanting you completely was sure to freak you out, so Jaemin was stuck at a crossroads.

After a few Google searches of asking the internet if he caught feelings and an episode of self-denial and self-loathing, Jaemin decided it was high time for him to call you and tell you how he felt. That, or he was going to panic and break things off before he got emotionally invested.

Before he could do either, Jeno walked back to the living room, putting his coat back on. He looked dressed up as if he was going out somewhere, and Jaemin’s suspicions were confirmed when he went to get his shoes.

“What’re you all dressed up for?” Jaemin asked, sitting up straight again.

“Jaehyun’s house.” Jeno raised a brow at him. “It’s Friday.”

God, if you’re out there, Jaemin thought, defeated. Screw you and your son. Amen.

Jaemin had to psych himself into the proper state of mind for tonight.

That all went to shit, however, when he saw you sitting in the living room, laughing at something Yuta had said.

“Oh my god,” Jeno said in a low voice when he saw Jaemin frozen in the doorway. “Tell me you’re not jealous right now.”

“Piss off,” Jaemin spat, kicking off his shoes at the entrance. “It’s nothing like that.”

Except that it was exactly like that. Jaemin wasn’t the jealous type, but right now, his blood was roiling in his gut. Deep inside, he knew it was probably nothing to worry about, but the way you smiled around Yuta was pissing him off. Then, he realized that he had no relationship with you that gave him any right to stop Yuta from flirting with you.

And then, you turned to see Jaemin in the doorway and smiled at him.

Oh no, Jaemin thought in complete devastation. She’s pretty.

“Y/N, tonight’s for the basketball team,” Jaehyun told you from the living room, making a motion with his hands to signal you to leave. “Go to your room.”

“You’re such a nosy older brother,” YangYang chimed in, nudging a chuckle out of Jaehyun. “But yeah, Y/N, Friday nights are for the boys.”

“I know, I know,” you said with a laugh. “I’ll go now. I was just grabbing some water.”

Jaemin was still frozen stiff at the doorway as you grabbed a half-empty bottle of water from the kitchen counter (despite Jeno’s several attempts to get him to move) and then walked to the staircase to Jaemin’s left. But then you grabbed Jaemin by the front of his shirt and started dragging him upstairs with you. He barely registered it all happening in the span of a few seconds, but he was able to catch Jeno saying he’d tell the others that Jaemin was running late.

“Y/N? What are you doing?” Jaemin whispered harshly, although he still followed you into your room and let you lock the door.

This was far too risky. Not only was Jaehyun home, but the entire basketball team was downstairs.

You started tying your hair up and Jaemin gulped, realizing where this was going. “Do you want me to suck you off or not?” you asked, smiling.

“Say no more,” Jaemin breathed out, unzipping his pants hastily.

He sat down on your bed, letting you tug his boxers down, your eyes full of mirth. Jaemin felt so pathetic when his cock twitched as soon as you wrapped a hand around its girth, but he was ready to put his pride to the side for once.

Jaemin was about to rasp out something but then you took his head in your mouth and a sudden wave of heat punched him in the gut. But then you pulled away, lips against the underside of his head, and Jaemin was a second away from just crying.

“You have nice hands,” you complimented with a mischievous smile as Jaemin held the back of your head eagerly. He felt like he was going crazy with the way you were mouthing your words against his cock.

“You have nice lips,” he returned through gritted teeth. “But please shut the fuck up and get to it already.”

Your lips curled slowly. “So impatient,” you cooed, tongue dragging along the underside of his cock. Jaemin bucked his hips forward, trying to chase the sensation, but you were teasing him.

“God, you’re gonna be the death of me, Y/N.”

You smirked up at him, moving your head to lick against the slit before taking his cock in your mouth again. A few laborious seconds passed with Jaemin biting his lip so that he didn’t make any noise, and then you finally started sucking him off. He fought the urge not to groan when your tongue rolled along the vein down his shaft.

You showed Jaemin no mercy, however. It was almost like you wanted everyone downstairs to hear. He gritted his teeth when your teeth grazed his cock, and he wanted more. He gripped your hair for anchorage and fucked into your mouth. The smallest whimper escaped you when Jaemin’s cock hit the back of your throat.

Jaemin let out a strangled groan. “I’m close.”

You took this as your cue to suck him off even harsher, and Jaemin was on the brink of sweet release. A tear escaped your eyes as he fucked into your throat, and Jaemin wiped it with his thumb, drinking in the wrecked sight of you that was bringing him over the edge. You let a broken moan vibrate against Jaemin’s shaft, and he was done for.

Jaemin couldn’t recall being able to cum this fast because of someone’s mouth before, but here he was, groaning as his hot seed shot down your throat. You obediently swallowed it, eyes hazy and tear-soaked from the size of him.

A few moments of silence passed before Jaemin leaned down and pecked your lips, heart fluttering a bit in his chest as he did so. “Good girl.”

He swore he saw you lifting a finger to scratch your cheek lightly, which was a nervous quirk of yours that Jaemin had picked up on, but you turned away quickly to fix your hair while Jaemin was pulling his pants back up. The tension that followed made Jaemin unsure of whether to leave or take you against the wall. He decided against the latter, knowing that Jeno couldn’t stall forever.

“Leaving already?” you asked, reaching for Jaemin’s hand, which he gladly entwined with yours.

“I’m already on thin ice,” Jaemin explained. “I have to go back down there and hope they don’t question me.” You moved closer to him, hands moving down to graze past his waistband. Jaemin hissed slightly under his breath and diverted by rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, so you and Yuta…”

“You’re still on that?” you asked, pulling your hands back. “I can’t laugh around another guy now?”

“No, no!” Jaemin groaned, tugging a hand through his hair out of frustration. “Nevermind, it’s nothing.”

“Is it not obvious, Jaemin?” you asked him, an edge of desperation to your voice. “You really can’t tell how I feel?”

Jaemin sighed, looking down at his feet. “You can’t tell how I feel either?”

“You—what?”

“We’ll talk later. I have to go.”

He turned to go back downstairs, but you grabbed his wrist, saying, “Jaemin, remember that you’re the one who didn’t want anything more out of this.”

Jaemin gave you a puzzled look but before he could ask for clarification, you had pulled away from him and gestured for him to leave. He mumbled a pathetic excuse, spitting out a string of words for a moment before he gave up and snuck downstairs as quietly as he could.

He hated that you were right. Even though you had suggested sneaking around, Jaemin was the one who tried to draw the boundary. He did this to himself.

“Yo, Jaemin,” Yuta called, “when did you get here?”

“Just now,” Jaemin answered, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked into the living room where all the basketball team members were sprawled over the couch. “What’re we watching?”

“Pulp Fiction,” Taeyong answered. “Can you get the ice cream from the kitchen?”

“Sure.” Jaemin opened Jaehyun’s freezer to see two tubs of ice cream nestled in the corner. While he was pondering over whether to grab chocolate or vanilla, he felt a presence behind him and looked over his shoulder. “Did you need—oh my god, go to your room,” he whispered harshly at the sight of you.

“Are you my mom?” You raised a brow at him and reached for an ice cream tub. “Let me help you open them.”

“Fine,” he mumbled, voice fracturing at the end. He watched you move to the kitchen’s island and, carefully eyeing his teammates in the living room, letting his hand graze your thigh and whispering, “Hey, I’m sorry for earlier.”

You stiffened at his touch. “It’s fine,” you whispered back, opening the tubs of ice cream. “You’ve just been acting weird lately.”

“Weird?” Jaemin asked as he opened his tub. The ice cream dripped off the lid and onto Jaemin’s finger. “Ugh. Do you have napkins?”

“You’re so messy, Jaemin.”

“Shut up.”

“Let me help,” you insisted, grabbing his wrist and taking his fingers in your mouth.

Jaemin’s eyes widened by a fraction as your hot tongue circled around his fingers. He fought down the urge to take it further and bit his lip as he watched you. Before he could do anything, however, an awkward laugh and wolf-whistle from the living room made him freeze.

Jaemin’s head shot up to see his teammates staring at him, shell-shocked. Some looked absolutely confused while others looked more proud and impressed. Jaemin wondered if you had no shame because, despite all the eyes on them, you didn’t let go of his hand, your pretty lips still wrapped around his fingers.

“I don’t know why she’s doing that,” Jaemin rambled quickly, and his tone was so frazzled that Jeno had to hide his laugh behind his fist. “Come on, Y/N,” he urged, voice dropping for you to hear. “Let go of my hand.”

It would have been sexy if Jaemin wasn’t absolutely terrified.

Only when Jaemin caught sight of Jaehyun’s expression did you let go, saying, “Thanks for the ice cream.” With a playful smile, you looked up at Jaemin expectantly.

“What the fuck did we just witness?” Jungwoo asked, lit up silly like he had just witnessed the biggest scandal.

“We’re friends,” Jaemin croaked out. “Right, Y/N? Jaehyun? Jeno?”

Jeno ducked his head and Jaemin could tell what exactly he was thinking: I can’t help you out of this one, Jaem.

Jaemin couldn’t exactly read Jaehyun’s expression. It was a mix of emotions so varied that they didn’t make sense to him. He couldn’t even pick out any distinguishable one, but maybe it was better he didn’t know what the captain was feeling.

“I swear, it's not what it looks like,” Jaemin defended.

“So Y/N wasn’t sucking on your fingers?” Taeyong asked, a ghost of a laugh on his lips.

“Okay, so it’s exactly what it looks like,” Jaemin muttered and pursed his lips together. “But it’s—it’s nothing,” he reasoned, and at this point, it seemed like he was trying to convince himself more than them.

Either way, it wasn’t working.

Who was he kidding, anyway? They weren’t stupid, and it was clear as day that Jaemin couldn’t get enough of you. For heaven's sake, he even got jealous over Yuta making you laugh. Before, one would have to pry open the cold, hard jaws of his corpse to get a word out about how he felt, but now Jaemin felt like you had broken down his last line of defense.

Jaemin could already see the consequences that would follow, but he still blurted out, “Fine. You got me. Jaehyun, I’m in love with your sister.”

Jaemin’s neurons were tearing themselves over the fact that Jaemin had just professed his love to you and was now experiencing a state of total humiliation. He was confident he wouldn’t ever live this moment down.

The room went silent. Not only were the boys shocked, but you were, too. Jaemin himself couldn’t believe he let that slip, but there was no going back now. Jeno sat there with his jaw hung open and Jaemin couldn’t blame him. He didn’t even know he was going to drop the love bomb like that out of nowhere. Taeyong looked like he had just witnessed a murder as his eyes kept darting between Jaemin and Jaehyun, Jungwoo looked a little too proud, and Yuta was just washed over with realization.

“Oh.” Jaehyun blinked. “Cool, I guess. Does that mean you’re not joining us for movie night then?”

Jaemin wasn’t sure how obvious the shock showed on his face, but this felt too easy. For a little over a month, Jaemin had been skirting around his relationship with you because of your big brother, and now he was acting scarily nonchalant.

“You’re not mad?” Jaemin asked, wide-eyed.

Jaehyun laughed. “I mean, it’s kinda weird that you’re dating my little sister, but why would I be mad?”

“Maybe it’s because you said ‘if anyone lays a hand on my little sister, then I will make sure you look uglier than you already are,’” Yuta reminded him with Jaemin nodding along at his words. “And that was verbatim.”

“That’s for people hitting on my sister to get laid, not people dating my sister,” Jaehyun corrected. “I don’t control her decisions.”

Jaemin smiled through the internal pain of realizing he did exactly that. If Jaehyun found out he wasn’t dating you, then Jaemin was in for an earful. Thankfully, you were too dazed over Jaemin’s earlier confession to decide to start shit.

“Plus,” Jaehyun continued, “I knew you guys had a thing.”

“What?” Jaemin spluttered, blinking wildly. His tongue was performing acrobatics to formulate words but it wasn’t working.

“I had a suspicion when you climbed up my tree to get into the house,” Jaehyun said. “When I walked into the room later, that just confirmed my suspicions because, you know…”

Jaemin’s cheeks went hot when he realized that Jaehyun had probably caught onto the fact that he had a boner back then. Without a word, you rushed out of the kitchen, gaze averted which was what Jaemin supposed was embarrassment. Jaemin heard the front door open and close. He turned to follow after you, but swallowed thickly and froze in place.

“Go, Jaemin,” Jeno urged him, a tone of seriousness taking over.

“Yeah, don’t sweat it,” YangYang said cooly. “It’s just movie night.”

Jaemin clenched his jaw and nodded, thinking about how shitty it would be if he did all of that just to be rejected. Jaehyun’s house was a warzone and he knew better than to come tonight, but he still did, and he still fucked everything up. If things went wrong with you—

“Jaemin,” Jaehyun cut into his thoughts, “just so you know, I’m cool with you dating my sister.”

It was funny how a few words could make someone’s day, but Jaemin was surprised at the weight those words took off of his shoulders. He contained the joy to a half-smile and left the kitchen and walked out of your house to find you.

You hadn’t gone far at all. You were pacing along the sidewalk looking frazzled, hands lacing together and eyes cast down. Jaemin walked over to you and tried to take your hand but you pulled away.

“Did you mean what you said?” you asked, overcome with raw emotion.

“Yeah,” Jaemin replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I know I’m the one who didn’t want to start anything, and I lied about not wanting anything, but… this is how I feel, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“I’m not exactly expressive if you haven’t noticed.”

“Oh, trust me, I’ve noticed,” you replied incredulously, lower lip starting to quiver. “I just—I don’t know—I thought I was just going to be an afterthought to you.”

Jaemin froze when he saw tears start to gloss your eyes. He never knew how to deal with people crying, especially when they were girls. He took your face in his hands and wiped your stray tears away with his thumbs, sighing softly.

“Let’s go to my place.”

“What? Why?”

“I need to show you how much I love you,” he replied firmly, taking your hand in his and walking in the direction of his apartment. “It’s kind of funny that you thought that because you’ve been all I could think about for the past month.”

More tears were starting to well up in your eyes, but you blinked them away.

Stay calm, Jaemin’s brain instructed him. Cupid can sense your fear.

“I love you,” he continued. “Should I say it again? I love you, I love you, I love—”

“Alright, Jaemin!” Your face beamed like a Christmas tree but you were still a flustered mess. “God, stop looking at me like that.”

“No,” he said, stopping in his tracks. “I’m going to keep saying it because I don’t think you get it.”

“Jaemin, we’re in the middle of the sidewalk,” you squeaked out as he kissed your cheek.

“I love you.” Kiss. “I love you.” Kiss. “I love you.” Kiss.

“J-Jaemin, I get it,” you whined out, scrunching your nose up at his affection. Jaemin continued, though, and you happened to reach your limit. You gripped his shoulders and held him away from you. “God, Jaemin, I love you, okay? You have to give me a chance to say it back at least.”

This time, Jaemin was the one to get shy. “Huh? You like me back?”

“Jaemin, you idiot, you’re so slow,” you mused, “I’ve liked you this entire time.”

He took your hand, his gaze never leaving yours, and rubbed your palm in circles with his thumb. “I know I’ve been a dick… on multiple occasions,” he admitted, “but I want to be with you.”

“Jaemin—”

“Will you be my girlfriend?” he asked.

Jaemin wondered how many seconds passed after, but it felt like centuries to him. He didn’t budge, however, because he wanted you more than ever.

“Yes,” you finally confessed, which, in essence, was a fever dream in itself.

Jaemin expected his reaction to be different, but instead, his eyes wandered off, lost in thought. He looked toward the moon overlooking that hill where he nearly hooked up with you on the night of the party. That felt like eons ago despite being not that long ago, but it carried a comforting wave of nostalgia.

“You know, on second thought, we’re gonna stargaze.”

You looked at Jaemin like he was some undiscovered specimen, but you still followed him. He laid on his back, scrunching up his nose when the grass tickled his face, and he held his hand out to you. You took it, crouching down to lay down next to him. This time, Jaemin spread his arm out so that you could lay against his chest.

You cuddled up against his chest and Jaemin thought he could die a happy man.

He looked over at you, heart hammering against his ribcage like he was hopped up on ten energy drinks. The glow of the moon illuminated the gentle curves of your face and Jaemin didn’t realize he was kissing you until he realized he had tilted your face toward him and cupped your soft cheek. His whole body felt fuzzy when your hands rested on his chest, when he could taste your fruity chapstick.

It was kind of embarrassing how nervous Jaemin was getting. His hands were starting to sweat and he was feeling kiss-dazed, smiling like an idiot because your soft lips were everything. When he pulled away, he pecked your lips one last time, his eyes unable to leave your face.

He threw his pride to the wind and confessed, “You’re so beautiful.”

Your expression was priceless. Jaemin indulged in watching you become a stuttering, faltering mess in front of him, struggling for words that could come out coherently.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t call anyone beautiful over your dead body,” you managed.

“Well, you’re not anyone, are you?” Jaemin raised a brow “You’re Y/N.”

“You’re such a smooth talker sometimes,” you acknowledged, “you know, when you’re not completely malfunctioning.”

“Shh.” Jaemin pulled you closer. “Let me enjoy this.”

“Fine, but you’re making it up to me later for playing cat and mouse for a month.”

Jaemin scoffed. “Please, I was the mouse most of the time.”

A bubble of a laugh escaped your lips and you wrapped your arms around your boyfriend. “I’m really happy, you know?” you mumbled into his chest.

Jaemin kissed the top of your head, whispering a “yeah” into your hair. Maybe one day he’d admit that he was just as over-the-moon as you were, and maybe it would be coerced out of him hours later, but right now, under the starry night sky, he could only think about how lucky he was. It was funny, though, because now he could see the stars.

And they were so beautiful.

[bikerjongho]

recs game!

Tagged by @blossom-hwa, thank u lina!!!!

recommend 5 or more of your own works that you would rec to someone asking what they should read first & explain a little bit about the work. these can be the most popular, the ones you think are underrated, or your own favorites! then tag five other writers!

santiago ― this fic, unlike the other four that I will also recommend, is very light and silly! I think if you had to pick up one of my fics for the first time and are not a fan of horror or supernatural, this is the fic for you. im also extremely proud of the concept! san works as a waiter at a mexican restaurant and everyone that goes there thinks he’s hot stuff (younger crowds think he’s Hot and older crowds think he’s the sweetest and kindest gentleman). he is called santiago by a sweet older woman that he’s besties with. san is the reason why this restaurant is booming, people just adore him. but when a rival mexican restaurant opens and takes customers from san’s restaurant, san has to reel in the help of dancer friends (wooyungi) to win a dance off against dancers from the other restaurant that hired them (fun fact, those dancers are stray kids members!!!) to get their customers back. I remember writing this fic and feeling so joyful and the words came so easily. I wish people loved it more!

piracy and pyromania ― this was my first ateez fic... ever! this fic is special to me not only because it was my first, but because I wrote it after a really long writing drought and also I wrote it during an extremely difficult time in my life and I found some solstice in writing this fic, because finally, something im doing is enjoyable and maybe life is worth living. just a bit. anyway, this is an ot8 fic where all of them are pirates with supernatural abilities and they’re all very ruthless and evil. they do shit like set other ships on fire or raid towns and kill people. not for the faint of heart! this fic was inspired by pirate king, and I remember it playing in my shower playlist while I was taking a shower and the entire plot came to me and I feverishly wrote the entire thing in one sitting. it was extremely cathartic.

stradivarius in flames ― the first fic starring hongjoong that I wrote! this fic came about on a whim because I saw a Tumblr post about music teachers and them sacrificing old instruments to a bonfire (or something. I linked it on the actual fic) and I thought that was insane so this fic was born. hongjoong is a demon hunter except he specializes in music demons, which are demons that use musical instruments as hosts to cause problems. one is being hosted inside a stradivarius violin so hongjoong crashes an orchestra concert where it’s being played... and I won't say any more because that will spoil it! this is another fic where the words came super easily and I wrote the entire thing in one day. I think it’s a really unique concept (though, I think a lot of my concepts are super unique and creative)!

corpsehands ― probably the fan favorite. ironically, I hated this fic when I wrote it. I thought the concept made no sense and it was a boring fic, and instead I was bombarded by all of these people that adored it! I was really pleased! in this fic, wooyoung is a bartender during prohibition (so, alcohol is illegal and this is a speakeasy) with a supernatural gift. I cant explain a lot of the plot because it revolves around his supernatural talent, but I think the plot and themes in this fic are extremely compelling and interesting!

card bender ― out of these five, this is the only jongho fic! Im putting this one on this list because it’s a personal favorite of mine. I just think jongho is so so so so so so hot in this one and there’s a sentence in this one that might be my favorite sentence ive ever written. in this fic, jongho is a poker player and he’s extremely good at it. poker is somewhat of a luck game, but jongho always wins, implying he’s a little supernatural or he’s cheating somehow. he’s drunk, cocky, and extremely good looking. what’s not to love?

tagging: @mathgoatwrites @abiaswreck @itsapapisongo @straykits and anyone else that wants to do this! you also dont have to do this if I tagged you, ofc

[dirtydancingdean]

✨ fic recs ✨

ok so back in like 2014 i watched supernatural for a solid 3 years until they killed kevin and charlie and i got bored of the bmol storyline. now im here again let’s not talk about it. BUT during this time i accumulated a Lot of fic and in the past two months i’ve gone through all 213 of my bookmarks and gone through like every rec list made after s12 in order to read fic set during every specific season while i rewatch the show. because im insane <3 im on s8 rn and wanted to share my list of favourites from each season so far as well as my favourite aus ! they’re all generally nsfw so minors be careful, and also check the warnings ! and i will update this when i finish s15 <3

aus

asunder by rageprufrock (23.8k, e, background samruby)

obviously the most perfect thing to ever exist. 

and this, your living kiss by opal_bullets (56k, m, background saileen)

poet dean fic need i say more. part dean studies if dean studies was elaborated on lovingly in detail for 56k words, part gorgeous and beautiful poetry, part incredibly clever commentary on meta and fan allusions, and part stunning exploration of the relationships in the show turned on their heads.  

one white little lie by komodobits (11k, gen)

this is SOOO cute. cas is so embarrassing i was covering my face the entire time i was reading it. if u want to be cheered up. read this. 

broadway musical by griftings (12k, m)

this is genuinely sooo funny. big “castiel did you fuck the michael sword” energy and jimmy novak as that “am not against gays” tweet, plus jo <3

c-s-t-l by komodobits (90k, m)

i haven't read this in a while but from what i remember it was incredible and also had cassie <3 

rest is under the cut because it got long fhjfkfklf

pre-series/season 1-3*

a turn of the earth by microcomets (time travel, 95k, standford era, m)

i think everyone’s read this at this point but if u haven't. what are u doing. go read it. it’s absolutely everything i reread it in the week before the finale without remembering half of the stuff it talked about and i was a WRECK. if u think about standford era dean every day read this. cas punches john winchester in the FACE. 

geography by aeli_kindara (3k, teen and up, warnings for discussion of rape/non-con and prostitution)

not dean/cas but a really wonderful and needed conversation with sam and dean during 2x02.

season 4

so says the sword by komodobits (85k, e)

yeah. i dont need to say anything.  

consequences of falling by fayjay (37k, e, background samruby, warnings for rape/non-con)

THISSSS FIC. pls it’s perfect literally everything i wanted when i was watching s4 and obsessed with love as an act of worship + ruby and cas parallels. ruby and cas get drunk together! ruby says this: “dean and castiel sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes the fall from grace, then comes battling the hosts of hell and wishing that you’d managed to get your skinny ass laid before the freaking apocalypse”! what more could u want!

named by rc_machlan (94k, m)

literally the best fic in the world i am not going to say Anything if you love dean and angels and the mythology of s4-s5 that was promptly dropped, you absolutely have to read this.

four people ruby seduced & one she actually fell for (or: ruby's epic love affair with humanity in general and sam in specific) by tuesday (3.7k, e, samruby, ruby/jo)

this is more background deancas than anything else and does contain brief, not romantic in any way dean/ruby and dean/cas, but like. if u love ruby (which i do) u have to read this.

season 5

final fantasy by orange_crushed (1.9k, m)

endverse.....this made me want to die

the (mostly accidental) courtship of dean winchester by tuesday (11k, m)

a classic for a reason. really cute and soft and the handprint and cas beating dean up in 5x18 are angelic marriage rites. what more could you ask for.

the girlfriend experience by rageprufrock (15k, explicit)

of Course i mean of COURSE. thee s5 deancas fic.

strike me down and i’ll come back more powerful than you can possibly imagine by trinityofone (10k, gen)

post 5x22 dean and cas rescue sam from hell with the help of some special guests. PERFECT. the only valid good omens crossover.

season 6**

something stupid by zatnikatel (20k, e)

this broke my heart and put it back together. one of my favourite cas characterizations, takes place over s5-s6 and it’s just stunning. 

a crash course in someone else’s history by annie d (11k, teen and up)

s4 cas ends up in the body of cas in 6x20. fucking life-ruining.

season 7

make known by domesticadventures (16k, teen and up)

this is a really heartbreaking look at dean’s headspace near the end of s6 and throughout s7, and it’s really wonderful with a hopeful ending.

redemption road by a whole bunch of people (652k, virtual season, explicit)

oh boy. ok. know ur herstory ! this was written from 2011 to 2012 and it is thee s7 fic, a virtual season written by 17 fans all together. it’s very very long and it suffers sometimes from having being written a decade ago, but im making my way through it right now and it still fucking holds up. i really do recommend reading at least some of it, you can stop around halfway through and you should be fine.

season 8***

rinse, repeat by ias (3k, teen and up)

exploration of cas when naomi forces him to kill copies of dean and then his perspective in goodbye stranger.

my keeper by whelvenwings (5k, gen)

another goodbye stranger fic, this time with bonus artist cas!

though the course may change by imogenbynight (51k, e)

au after 8x23. i love this fic so much. dean accidentally ends up making himself have to go undercover with cas and pretend to be fake engaged. also, charlie and kevin. do i need to say more.

apres by imogenbynight (24k, e)

au after 8x23 where dean goes to find cas after the angels fall in paris 🥺

*i have found exactly one bela fic that i loved, and zero henriksen fics that i loved, so IF u have recs for those. i would appreciate that.

**mostly the s6 fics i read were uh...vampire dean fics...

***have found one (1) good dean/aaron fic but im still searching for the perfect purgatory crew fics 

[knullanon]

how the symbiotes stole you from one another #3

this took 5 hours in total yay

words: 4627

warnings: manipulation, kidnapping, dads being assholes, lmk if I missed any!

Routines in the area where Knull had dropped you off were almost nonexistent. The only reason why you woke up at all was because of the fact that it was already something you did before you got here.

Here, as in this place where Knull seemingly… owned? It was weird. He didn’t just own the land, either, he owned the symbiotes, and by that, Knull, whenever he wanted to talk to you, would just go inside one of their minds, take over, and talk to you. He had done this one multiple occasions, with him always being an asshole about everything. From trying to stop you from going outside, to bitching about your old life, and how you must be enjoying this one. It was really annoying to have to deal with him every damn day, and it was starting to become borderline creepy.

He wouldn’t care about your privacy, only how you were holding up. Literally nothing could stop him from entering your room. He removed the lock when you first got there, and then just left you. Nothing to do besides clean, fuck around, and be bored to death. The only thing you could really do otherwise bsides talk to that asshole, is just try and find something to look at.

So far, you’ve been able to tell that the previous owners of the land were evicted: probably by force by the numerous blood stains all over the place, hiding under whatever Knull didn’t want to clean. Another thing you noticed was that the area you were in used to be covered with trees, but they seemed to be all cut down recently. They smelt fresh and didn’t have any dirt or grime on the stumps. You had to assume it was a safety precaution. For him, at least.

It didn’t take long for you to start snooping around and finding different things, like a hidden diary, all written in russian, an old art kit, and a calendar dated to that year. These items, and their good conditions they were found in, only solidifies your theory that Knull just found a random property and killed the people living there. It also solidified the fact that Knull really didn’t know you existed until that night. Or, morning. Whatever time you were at the gas station. You were able to tell how long you had been taken. 2 weeks just tonight.

It was annoying the hell out of you how long staying with these assholes would seem. Two months with Eddie and venom, and then 3 months with carnage and cletus.

And now 2 weeks with this asshole, probably more. You really wanted out of this damn place. Actually, you wanted out of this weird game they had. Whoever got you first got to keep you until someone else came along. And tried to do the same thing.

As you grabbed some random clothes, and walked into the bathroom, you tried to remember before everything had happened. Before you decided to walk back home alone, like an idiot. That's what you were, wasn’t it? A fucking idiot for thinking it was a good idea. You really thought that nothing would happen, would it? And now this.

Shoving open the bathroom door, you almost didn’t see the 7 foot tall symbiote sitting in the chair across from the bed. This one was known for having a more emo look to them. With being dark blue and with little streaks of even darker red, they were always quiet and silent when you saw them. They were usually the ones to bring you food, guard the house you were in. They were also the one that Knull preferred to get into when he decided to speak to you.

The symbiote themselves were rumble, and he was… actually quite pleasant. It seemed Knull had let this batch keep their personalities, maybe at the price of kneeling before him. You didn’t know.

What you did know was that Knull was now controlling Rumble through whatever bullshit he did to be this powerful. Rumble, or, Knull technically, was reading an old newspaper dated a few months ago. It was from somewhere in Idaho, where you would assume you were located. Yes, Eddie lived in San Francisco, but when carnage took you wherever the hell he took you, and then Knull, well, it was confusing to say the least.

Anyways, the one good thing about Knull was that he really didn’t care what you thought of the place, as he said it, “a temporary arrangement on both our parties''. Pretentious bitch.

Knull put down the newspaper, and gave a smile, before gesturing with his arm to the bed you had just made. “Ah, _____, sit. Let's talk shall we?”

You didn’t want to talk to him, or even look at him, but you followed his command anyway. You tossed your clothes into an old bucket that you had placed in the corner of the room and walked towards the bed, before sitting on it. Knull smiled again with that weird mouth. Rumble never smiled, so of course it would look weird when he did. Of course, not of his own will, but still.

“So, how have you been liking your new enclosure?” Did- Did he just-

You brushed it off, not wanting to anger him. “It’s… fine. Every home comes with its ups and downs.” you hoped he would get the message about calling a home an enclosure. It makes you feel like a pet rather than a person. If Knull noticed your wording, then he ignored it. Instead, he picked up the newspaper again, saying, “Good, good. I’m glad you could understand the circumstances of your predicament.”

You tried hard not to roll your eyes, remembering what Carnage or Venom would say- even now, if you had no idea where they were, their words and opinions still sat with you months later. Instead, you nodded your head to his words, and sat in silence waiting for him to say anything else. Knull did not say anything for a few minutes. Long, agonizing minutes. It reminded you of being with Eddie and Venom, those two assholes. When they were working, they required the utmost silence otherwise they couldn’t focus. They never got mad at you, but they would always try to put you up to something, like reading. Which is why you would read all their books on crime rates, detectives, natural disasters, anything to pass the time while they were working.

It got you entertained for the most part. Sitting in a room with nothing to do, for 2 months was more difficult than you ever thought it would be.

“Are you thinking of your previous hosts and their accommodations?”

Knull pulled you from your thoughts, and even though he was reading the newspaper, you were able to tell he wanted an answer. You shifted from your spot at the edge of the bed, before answering with, “U-Uh, yeah, I am.”

“Hmm.”

He continued to read for a moment, before he pulled the newspaper down a little to view you. “Are you not tired of them?”

“What do you mean?”

This time, he put the newspaper in his lap. “Venom and Eddie. Carnage and Cletus. How have they treated you in the few months you’ve known them?”

You had to sit there and think for a moment, wondering where this conversation was going. What was he trying to do this time?

“Well, venom and Eddie were… constricting. I never had anything to do. Besides reading the books on the shelf, but even then I had to do that discreetly. They didn’t like me doing those things. Or, rather, reading those things. They said it was too… graphic.”

“Ah, I see.” he acknowledged, picking up the newspaper again. “And Carnage and Cletus? How was their company?”

You really wanted to hide in a hole now. “They were… fine.”

“Were they, though?”

You wondered if it would just be worth it to tell everything: how you felt about Eddie, how you felt about Cletus, and how you felt about this asshole doing the same thing the rest of them had done.

“...No, they weren’t.”

He gave a small smile, before he asked, “Oh? Please do tell me more.”

You knew what he was doing, what he was playing at, and yet, you fell right for it. “They would tell me… they would say that no one was going to come for me. No one cared. Not my family, not Eddie, no one. Only them.”

He nodded along, and when he realized you were done venting, he said, “well, aren’t you glad that you’re with me now?”

Turning to face him, you gave him a glare. “Excuse me?”

“Think about it. With one of them, they gave you limited resources to entertain yourself, and the other made you feel like nothing. With me, I give you free reign to do whatever you please. You may ask for whatever you wish, visit whoever you choose, as long as you plead your loyalty to me.”

You stared at him, before you turned your back towards him, mumbling, “Liar.”

He chuckled, and you heard the newspaper crinkle. “I’m not making any jokes. Pledge our loyalty, and you will receive anything you would ever want.”

“Would that include being let go to see my family again?”

“Yes, actually. You would just have to come back when you were done with your visits.”

That caught your attention. He would let you go back? Really? He did say you would go back to him when you were done with your “visits”... but still, better than what the other two were offering.

You thought for a moment before the doubts started to kick in. How do we know he won’t betray you when you do pledge your loyalty to him? How do we know he won’t just keep you here forever? What ounce of trust should we put in him when everyone has kicked us when we were already down?

Almost as if he heard your thoughts, Knull said, “I will give you time for your answer. After all, I have years and years to spare.”

With that he folded the newspaper, setting it down gently, before you saw something spark in his eyes and Rumble returned to his own mind. He sat there unmoving for a few moments, before he sat up and looked at you. “I assume he just wanted to talk?”

You sighed, feeling tired only at 7 in the morning already. “Yes, Rumble, that’s all he came here for.”

He gave a hum of acknowledgment before he got up and walked to the exit to the room. Before he left, however, he said, “Do not be surprised if the water runs out: this was called a temporary enclosure for a reason.”

Before you could say anything, he left you to watch the door again, just before you could ask him to stop calling the home an enclosure, he shut the door softly. You were about to say something, but decided it was not worth it, so instead, you opted to just continue on with what you had to do throughout the day.

~~~~~~~~~

As Rumble looked on as you would clean and dry out clothes on line and leave them for the hot summer day to dry, hopefully by the end of the day, you had mumbled out when first getting out the big hamper. Next to it, you had a couple pieces of clothing sitting in another basket covered by water and soap. Currently, you were wringing out all of the water from a white top, trying to not stretch it out.

Rumble grumble out something, before he heard him in his head:

“Rumble, I would assume you would have the decency to not talk badly about my daughter behind her back.”

Rumble froze up before he quickly set his posture more straightened as he watched you put the shirt on the line, before going to grab another piece of clothing. “No, Lord Knull, I was just noting the… strange enclosure you had chosen for her.”

He heard Knull chuckle, before responding with, “Oh, Rumble, you should know my plan by now.”

Rumble sent a wave of confusion to Knull, indicating that no, he had no idea what his plan was.

Knull simply sighed, before he continued. “I have had plans to bring her to Klyntar, our homeworld, and yet, I have a feeling she will not be able to live there. For a while, I thought I would only be able to visit her through the symbiotes already on earth, or just get there myself, with obvious consequences. However, I’ve found a third option. There is a way to bring her here without having to worry for her safety.”

Suddenly, Rumble received a vision, or more specifically, a live feed of what Knull was looking at. It looked like a symbiote, and yet, it was… odd. It did not have a mind of its own, it's like it was waiting to be filled by something. And this one did not need a host, either. From Knull’s own memories, it seemed he created this one to rely solely on its own, however, for the need to do normal things, it needed someone to fill its mind. Rumble suddenly realized where this was going.

“Lord Knull, you aren’t saying-”

“Yes, I’m saying exactly what you are thinking of.”

Rumble saw Knull walk up to the symbiote, and stroke it with his claw. It did not respond. “This symbiote that I have created will need a mind, someone who has already been born, only their mind. I am planning on giving it to ______ and then letting her rest there, before taking away her body and giving her mind to.... Well, I have not named this one. Maybe I will name it… _______. After her.”

~~~~~~~

You laid the last shirt in the bucket, and when you tried to grab another and felt that there were no more, you sighed and grabbed the dirty water, and poured it out on the grass, not caring if the soap would kill the already dead plants. Then you put the hamper and the bucket on top of each other and carried it back into the house. When you reached the sink, you put the buckets in the sink and turned the tap: only for nothing to come out.

“Do not be surprised if the water runs out: this was called a temporary enclosure for a reason.”

Fucking hell. You got the hamper out and when you saw that it was relatively clean, you let it go, but the dirty water one…

Yeah, you had to clean this before the next laundry day.

It did not help that there were dishes that needed to be washed. You sighed and left the bucket on the counter, and you were about to walk back up to your room, when you had an idea. You walked outside and saw Rumble standing near a cut down tree, waiting for something. Walking up to him, you said, “Hey, Rumble, is there another water source around here?”

He gave you a look, before he said, “Yes, there is one, why must you use it? We will be moving next week to a new location.”

“Well, if it's gonna take a week, I hope you have some form of water to bring up here for the dishes, or showers, or clothes, or-”

“Alright, alright I get it.” he stalked over to you and looked towards another symbiote, probably trying to talk to them before the other symbiote simply nodded and walked to another part of the property.

“I will take you to a river, but after that, the others will gather the water for you, am I clear?”

You nodded. “Good, lets go.”

~~~~~~

Anti-venom stood at the clearing, looking at the decomposing bodies, just two women and two men. He could tell they had been there for more than a week, but not enough for them to completely decompose.

Anti-venom looked around before he tried to smell where they were from. Unfortunately, whoever dumped their bodies was smart in how they covered up the scent. There was almost nothing out here, and with the fact that someone covered up their scent made it more unnerving.

He didn’t try to think of how they died, only giving them his wishes before he started to walk away. Just a couple meters away was a little river that he knew expanded as you went up the stream. He walked over and saw nothing of old blood on the rocks, so they must’ve died somewhere else-

What was that?

He whirled his head towards the start of the river, upwards maybe by a few miles. Even out here, the stench of Knull and his underdogs were there. He growled, remembering how Knull used them for his own gain. He quickly theorized that for some reason, Knull was here and he had killed these people- but why? What would make him do this?

Anti-venom decided to find out on his own, as he started to sprint his way up the river.

~~~~~~

“Why did Lord Knull choose you, anyway?”

“Choose me as what?”

You were currently at the river, cleaning out the dishes in the bucket, and then rinsing them off. Rumble was nearby, sitting in his own little area, and he was also bored. He wanted to know things that Knull would not tell him: would not tell anyone, to be more precise.

You looked back at him, before you turned back to the dishes. “I don’t question it anymore. I never had a choice, I was just… chosen. It’s something I’ve had to get used to for the past months, and even now I don’t have anything to do, anything to say.”

Rumble quirked an eye. “But Lord Knull gave you a choice, did he not?”

“Oh, yeah, please tell me, what did he give me a choice on?”

“On being free to do as you please.”

You stopped washing the little plate you had, and you turned back to face him. “What?”

“He gave you a choice. You could swear loyalty to him, or-”

“Ok, enough with the loyalty bullshit, I’m tired of hearing it.” You had gone back to the dishes, scrubbing furiously at the plate. “I get it, it's a better option than Carnage or Venom, but could I at least have the option of never seeing you fucks ever again?”

Rumble did not say anything more, letting you get out your anger by scrubbing the dishes that were left, and tossing them into the bucket.

When you were finally done, you tried to pick up the bucket, but all of that scrubbing and cleaning made your arms sore. Rumble decided to restore his reputation with you by getting the bucket for you. You didn’t complain, as your arms were extremely sore from your anger washing.

The walk back to the property was peaceful. You weren’t angry at Rumble: to be honest, he was a sweetheart. He would help you out with so many things it was almost unbelievable. He was much more pleasant to be around than Knull, that was for sure.

Even if he had to call Knull “Lord Knull” each time you met, it was fine. The little trail that you two took was getting more smoother as you got closer and closer to the property. When you reached the clearing, you saw the normal sight:

5 symbiotes around the area stalking, waiting. They were most likely on guard, and even then, they had their eyes on you, making sure there was no funny business between you and Rumble.

Walking up to the one story house, you felt… wrong. Of course, this had always felt wrong, but this time it was like someone was watching you from afar. Before you got onto the porch, you turned to look at all the symbiotes watching you. Nothing unusual, the normal amount that would stand guard in this area. Maybe one of them is looking too long, you thought, as Rumble opened the door for you and you both went inside.

Unfortunately, no one noticed the speck of white in the bushes, hiding. Waiting.

~~~~~~~

It was almost time for you to start getting ready for bed. You already had dinner, and now all you needed was just a nice warm bed. You sighed as you made sure everything was in its place, before you walked back in the hallway and into your room. You got out your favorite pair of pajamas, and started to change. You already had a shower last night, it wouldn’t matter if you had one today.

As you changed, your mind went back to the conversation with Knull earlier that day. Would he really let you do whatever you wanted if you just… spared your loyalty, as he called it? Could you see your family and friends again? Could you tell them you were ok and not harmed?

But, he did say that you couldn’t stay there… you would have to go back with him… where did he live, anyway? He was an alien god, so… space? But… where?

Maybe he lived on some random planet and acquired a bunch of power, you had no idea-

“YOU WOULD ALL DARE TO HELP KNULL AND HIS PLANS?!”

That didn’t sound good. You rushed out of your room, pajamas halfway on, and peeked outside of the kitchen window, where you saw everything.

In the middle of the clearing, stood tall and bloody, was another symbiote. He was white with some black accents here and there, and most importantly, he was holding fire.

You already knew that symbiotes didn’t like heat, or fire. Especially not fire.

You remember one time when you tried to escape Eddie with fire. It did not work out well. You were locked in a closet, and fortunately for you, that was where you stored your books.

Anyways, you had no time to think of those times, when you were running from whatever the fuck is going on outside the house. You ran back to your room to put on a shirt, and when you were finished putting on your socks, running was heard from the hallway.

Rumble came through the door and dragged you by your forearm down towards a specific spot in the floor. He then lifted a larger floorboard that revealed a crawl space. He shoved you in, gently as possible, before he said, “Stay. Here. I’ll come for you when I beat him.”

“Who?” You were about to ask, but he slammed the door shut, leaving you to fear for the next few minutes.

You sat there for a few more minutes, before you heard crackling. Crackling of fire. You were desperately trying to open the door, but it seemed to be glued shut: there was nothing that could open it.

At this point, you were starting to cry. The symbiotes couldn’t stand fire, how would they stand this? You were desperate to leave, to escape: you never wanted to be here, with these people who thought they could help you. You wanted to go home, to see your family, friends, the people who loved and cherished you, and actually respected your boundaries.

The door was broken inwards and you felt every muscle in your body stop. You crouched a little from the trap door, hoping they didn’t hear you. From they're desperate steps and quick feet, it was obviously not Rumble or any other symbiote you knew.

You were pulled from your thoughts as the steps went into the hallway. As they walked by, slower, you held your breath. If they found you… well, you knew what happened when new symbiotes would find you.

You let out a silent sigh when they passed the door… only for them to come rushing back. Without even knowing it, they ripped open the trap door, revealing you, tired, scared, and cold.

The symbiote you saw was the exact one that was outside, who was attacking all the other symbiotes.

He looked shocked, as if he didn’t know you were there. “Child…” he asked, as he reached down to try and grab you, “what are you doing in a place like this?”

He picked you up with the utmost gentleness and care, like you would shatter if he just yanked you out. He cradled you within his arms, like you were a baby. He was a giant compared to you, being almost 7 or 8 feet tall.

“Where are your parents?” he asked, taking you with him, walking out of the house. You tried to crawl out of his palm, but he stopped you each time. “I-I don't know.”

He tried to give you a sympathetic look. “Oh, my sweet dear, don’t be afraid. I will k-”

He suddenly jumped into the fire, and you screamed expecting to be burnt along with all the weeds.

However, you didn’t feel anything. Turns out this was because the symbiote had taken you up into the air, so while he was holding you by your waist, he was also holding you out of the reach of the fire. He held his hand up high, not only to make sure that you wouldn’t be hurt, but as you saw Rumble on the ground, close to the fire, you realized it was to get you out of his grip.

“Rumble. You used to be such an open minded symbiote. Now look at you. You are just leeching off of Lord Knull, the one who enslaves you and the rest of our kind!”

The white symbiotes seemingly noticed you again, and said, “and you have the audacity to bring an innocent child into this mess! How dare you!”

With that, he started to walk into the fire, which surprisingly was not burning him. He still held you up high so you wouldn’t be burnt by the flames, which was nice. You looked back at Rumble, who was trying to get up, but the injuries on his legs seemed severe. The fire was closing in on him as well.

You felt bad for him. You reached out, but before you could do anything, Anti venom started to sprint away from the house. The last thing you saw of Rumble was him collapsing onto the ground, broken and beaten.

When you were out of the fire, the symbiote lowered you to his eye level. “My name is Anti-Venom, tiny child. What is yours?”

BONUS:

Rumble sat on the remains of the house: nothing was left of it when Lord Knull appeared. It was a miracle he had even gotten the distress alert, a bigger one he had arrived in time to save rumble himself. Every other symbiote was gone, either from the fire or the white symbiote. Anti-Venom was his name.

“So, you failed at getting back _____ for me?”

“... Lord Knull, I am deeply sorry, but-”

“I don’t want to hear excuses, Rumble, I want to see my daughter! I want to seeher before the other two get her, or worse she falls for that idiotic Anti-Venom, do you hear me?!”

Rumble sat there waiting for Lord Knull to be done with his rant, before he said, “Yes, Lord Knull. I understand.”

Lord Knull stood up and started to walk away. “Good. I will try to locate her myself. In the meantime, find out everything you can about this Anti-Venom. I want his secrets, every dirty little thing about him, do you understand?”

“Yes, Lord Knull, it will be done.”

And with that, Lord Knull was gone, leaving Rumble to dwell in his own failures.

--------

almost forgot, @anxiousnerdwritings this was for u

[volleychumps]

Ok finally (my last one) a scenario where the Karasuno boys (I will always trade Kenma for Tanaka) are at a Halloween party and their crush comes in wearing the sexiest/hottest costume that boy could ever wet dream of (they’re crush lost a bet and had to wear it). I’d love to see what each boy would want their crush dressed as and to see them flustered when their crush comes over to chat them up. Again you’re an amazing writer and I hope you see these! I’m crossing my fingers.

This request was suuuper fun to write and I chose the costumes off the personalities of these nerds, I hope you enjoy!!!

I wrote for the ones I chose in the mix of our boys considering they’re scenarios, hope that’s okay!!

Karasuno Boys (+Kenma) w/ a Crush in a Sexy Halloween Costume 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Daichi (lmao don’t blame me for the choice of costume Dai is a simpleton)

“Consider yourself lucky I even came.” 

“Boo, no fun, Dai!” 

The captain narrows his eyes at his vice-captain as Suga shares a knowing grin with Asahi and Kiyoko as the first and second years run about through Kuroo’s abnormally large house. The shared halloween party hosted by the Nekoma captain himself consisted of the teams of Fukurodani, Nekoma, Aoba Joshai, and Karasuno along with their managers- a party in which Daichi Sawamura was not informed of the magnitude. 

The Karasuno captain was decked out in a pirate costume, chosen to match with Sugawara, a costume Daichi would have never agreed to wearing had he known the party would be consisting of people outside the team he trusts. 

However, there was no purpose in pouting. Before Daichi could scold Hinata and Kageyama for perpetrating a challenging game of Just Dance against Lev and Yamamoto, Yachi tugging on an arm of someone who had yet to emerge into the entrance caught his attention. 

“Y/N~, come out!” 

“I said I would wear it, not that I would show myself in it.” Your voice snaps, and Daichi involuntarily feels heat rise to his cheeks as he realizes: as a manager-in-training for the Karsuno team, the invite also obviously extended to you.

Daichi looks away from his conversation with his fellow third years to gape at the sight. He had definitely wondered what the girl he liked would look like in one- 

he just wasn’t expecting to see it. In person, and not out of his late-night fantasies of seeing you in his jersey with nothing underneath it. 

Yachi, dressed as a simple princess, giggled as you attempted to pull down the volleyball shorts that clung to your legs so tight almost like a second skin, a Karasuno jersey just barely covering your ass with low in behold-

The number one gracing your back. 

Instead of the standard ponytail or braids, your hair fell in delicate waves down your shoulders, your goregous makeup out of place for the volleyball player costume you wore. You glare at Kuroo’s wolf-whistle and manage a small grin to the first-years that rush up to you- 

“Y/N-chan, you look soooo pretty!” 

“Shut up dobe, it’s not like our uniform is anything special-” 

“It’s still a costume. She doesn’t play volleyball.” 

“Thanks for the analysis, Tsukishima.” You laugh a little, moving through them to get to try and get to your seniors as you glare at the one who made the bet with you. 

“Why Dai’s number, Kiyoko?” You whine, leaning on Daichi with totally platonic intentions as the captain feels himself stiffen. In more places than one.

Daichi keeps his lips sealed shut at the wink from Kiyoko as said woman shoves both Asahi and Sugawara along, claiming she needed their help with getting more drinks with the intention of leaving the two of you alone as Daichi bites back a groan. The usually steady captain leans against the wall, looking away nervously. 

“U-Uhm y-you look-” 

“Nice costume, Daichi-senpai.” You wink once they leave, moving to lean against the wall as well while running a hand through your hair. “Guess you could say I’m you, huh? It’s weird being in the uniform, not being a player and all-” 

“Y/N.” 

You arch a brow at the crack in the captain’s voice, surprised at how flushed the captain’s cheeks were before realization dawns on your features. 

“You look really really nice tonight. The jersey suits you.”

“You think?” You fiddle with the hem of the jersey, noting the darkened expression on the captain’s face: either one of restraint or lust, you couldn’t tell. You smile through a bitten lip, finger tracing up his chest as you glance around, making sure no one could see as your breath tickles the captain’s ear in a surge of confidence. 

“I think I’d look better without it, don’t you think?” 

Daichi’s jaw slackens as you giggle, walking off to watch the Just Dance battle emerge with a sway to your hips, feeling the captain’s eyes bore into you from afar. 

Looks like he could consider himself very lucky he had come tonight. 

Sugawara

“Y/N, I will drag you. Don’t doubt I won’t.” 

“Nooo Bokuto, You never said anything about actually coming in to the party.”

 “You’re making a commotion, sweetheart.” 

Suga frowns, raising the rim of his cup to his lips at Bokuto’s choice of names for you as the Fukurodani captain attempts to drag his manager into the party. Although the vice-captain knew damn well you would never make the mistake of going for the playboy known as Bokuto, Sugawara still felt an itch of jealousy at the close bond the two of you shared, hence the slightly tightened plastic cup in his hold. 

Bokuto smirks at the stare from the gray-haired boy, thinking that the vice-captain should actually be thanking him, as a final tug pulls you into the party. 

Suga chokes on his juice. 

“A-Are you a sexy nerd, Y/N?” Akaashi manages out at the sight of his manager, heat flooding his cheeks at your knee-high socks and short school girl skirt, a pair of frames resting on your nose as your white button up only had two of the bottom buttons buttoned. Your hair had been pulled back into a messy braid, complete with a pair of open suspenders as you groan at all the eyes on you. 

Sugawara moved his damn eyepatch just to make sure what he was seeing was the real thing, feeling sensual emotions wash over him at the unexpected sight. 

The vice-captain remains shocked when you move through the herd of your boys to make your way over to him, a pout on your lips that was so unnecessarily attractive Suga had to gulp as you cross your arms over your chest, covering your red exposed bra with both arms. 

“You’re the only sensible one here right now, Suga.” You sigh to your friend, plucking the cup out of Suga’s hand and drinking from it. “Is this capri sun? You know me so well.” 

Snapping out of his trance, Suga clears his throat before chuckling lightly, tugging you out of the common area of the living room and into a more secluded, yet not completely empty room. Karui and Saeko point at the two of you excitedly, before leaving the room quickly as Suga takes even breaths through his nose- amazed he’s able to keep his composure. 

“This-” Suga pulls you forward by the two sides of your exposed button up, fingers buttoning up the rest of the buttons, covering your bra. “Is dangerous in a house full of men.” 

“Oh tell me about it.” You sigh as your close friend finishes closing up your top. “I lost a damn bet to Bokuto and-” 

“You exposed yourself to these boys because of a bet?” 

You blink at the raspiness and irritation now prevalent in Suga’s voice, suddenly at a loss for words as the look in his eyes makes your knees slightly weak. 

“U-Um...yes? Is there a man to show it to only?” Your tone is teasing, but Suga’s burning stare makes your mouth go dry. 

Suga clicks his tongue, eyes tracing over your figure one more time possessively as he suddenly turns, hand on your wrist. 

“I have extra clothes in my car.” 

He doesn’t have to turn around for you to see the redness on his features as a smile tickles the corner of your lips. 

“Only if you want them.” 

“Oh I do!” You chirp, letting him guide you out of the house as all tension drains out of the atmosphere, and Suga smiles to himself-

his hand moving to clasp in yours just a little tighter with his heated skin. 

Nishinoya

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m a ninja. Duh.” 

Nishinoya huffs, wondering why he had to explain it for the third time as Asahi laughs heartily, decked out in a sailor costume that exhibited the definition on his arms vividly. The shorter boy goes to pull his mask back up until the sound of your groaning voice catches within his hearing, the libero’s heartbeat automatically picking up. 

“No! Oikawa, don’t be more of an asshole than you usually are-” 

“Rude. A bet is a bet Y/N-chan~” 

Pulling up his mask can wait. 

Your sexy devil costume was tight in all the right places as your cheeks matched the shade of red your attire adorned as you stepped into the party, a steady silence settling around the room at your entry. Bokuto broke the silence with a sharp whoop from his spot next to Noya, who still had his jaw on the floor as you shyly pull at the leotard that resembled basically a red bikini, your attempt being futile. 

Shoving out of Oikawa’s hold, you rush over to to Kiyoko, pouting all the while as the woman dressed as an angel giggled and adjusted your devil horns as she strokes your hair in a there there motion, making Noya’s heartbeat skyrocket even higher at the sight. 

“N-Noya-san are you alright? You look faint.”

“I can die now. As a happy man.” The libero sniffs, not noticing you come over to the drink table and startling him from his position in front of the coolers. Now suddenly the most timid boy at the party, Noya blinks once to see that Asahi had left with the purpose of leaving him alone with his crush. 

The shorter boy gulps when your finger presses at the bottom of his chin, shutting his dropped jaw as wide brown eyes gape at you, pink dusting over his features. 

“You’ll catch flies.” You say simply, smiling a little through your bright red lipstick as Noya’s cheeks suddenly match your costume. 

“HahAHAH flies. Right.” 

You arch a brow, pulling at your stockings- oh god you were wearing stockings- as Noya tries to find steady ground, thinking that if any deity was ever giving him a sign- this was it. 

As you throw back a drink, Noya does as well, the sound of the shot glass hitting the table. 

“You look extremely sexy tonight, Y/N. I’m saying that in the least pervy way possible.” The words come out rushed as an amused tilt to your lips makes the libero calm a little, hand over his heart as if he was swearing something. 

Your devilish attire had sent a rush of confidence through you as you find yourself playing coy. 

“Well,” you take another step forward, Noya gulping when your fingers find the cloth of his mask. “I suppose this costume did make the guy I wanted to see it most find it that way.” 

Noya remains frozen in shock as you pull down his dark ninja mask to place your lips over his cheek sweetly, winking once before escaping back to Kiyoko right as the adrenaline could rush down-

Noya soon following in your escape path soon after, your scent filling his nose as he wonders if he would be sinning tonight. 

Kenma

“Your parties are lame.”

“Says the guy who didn’t even wear a costume.”

Kenma rolls his eyes as he relaxes more into his seat on the couch, the console in his hand sounding with beeps and the like as he mildly points a finger to the top of his head to an annoyed Kuroo through the heavy music and beer pong. 

“This is a costume.” 

“A pair of dollar-store cat ears is not a costume, Kenma!” 

Kenma blinks at the foreign voice, looking up once to not only see a smirking Kuroo, but you-

your sensual cat costume hugging your figure amazingly along with drawn whiskers, a pair of more appropriate cat ears resting on your head than his as your sheer tights seemed to show even more skin than without them. 

Subconciously, Kenma turned off his console right away, wondering just when the team manager of Nekoma he just so happened to have the biggest crush on walked into the party, much less up to him.

“Great party, Kuroo!” You beam innocently as Kuroo shrugs with an I-told-you-so expression to his childhood friend, Kenma glaring at him with flushed cheeks as the setter tries to find the right place to look. Anywhere else to look, please. 

“What are you drinking, Y/N?” 

“Juice. For Kenma too- and you better not be drinking alcohol Mr. Underage-” 

“You’re not a manager tonight, remember?” Kuroo grins cheekily as you take a seat next to Kenma, ignoring all the pairs of eyes on you. “That was apart of the bet~” 

“I’ll shove your bet right up your ass if you keep it up~” You respond in kind as Kuroo barks out a laugh before taking his leave, leaving you with the brain of Nekoma in the middle of a Halloween costume party. 

Kenma clears his throat, setting his console down before looking off to the side shyly, a hand on the back of his neck. 

“W-What bet did you make with Kuroo?” 

“Trust me, you don’t want to know- I came here in this cat costume and that’s that.” You giggle, crossing your leg over the other as Kenma’s eyes slowly trail towards the movement, looking quickly away again before shyly looking down at his lap.

“Can I take a turn?” You nod over to the shy boy’s console as Kenma mumbles a barely coherent yes, before handing it over, giving him an opportunity to calm his racing heartbeat as he watches you take it excitedly. 

“Parties really aren’t my thing.” 

“...Same.” 

Kenma feels a quirk to one side of his lips as he watches you- something out of a wet dream- excitedly fight against a computer in his game as he suddenly becomes glad he came to this lame-ass party.

“Are you gonna watch all night or play with me?” 

“I suppose beating you once or twice won’t bite.” 

“Did the Kenma Kozume just give me sass?” You raise your brows at the challenge as Kenma brushes some of his hair back, shrugging confidently as the man of the hour breaks your little moment. 

“How are my two favorite kittens doing?” 

“Go to hell, Kuroo.” 

You and Kenma look at eachother before laughing at the simutaneous reply, the Nekoma captain biting back a comment at the fact that they were bonding over insulting him-

honestly glad that his plan had worked. 

Tsukishima

“I really let Saeko help Y/N get ready for this halloween party.” 

“...and why are you telling me this?” 

“Oh you’ll see.” 

Tsukishima spares Tanaka’s shiteating grin another moment of wonder before shrugging and going back to watching Hinata and Kageyama try to outdo each other in a (furious?) game of Cards Against Humanity, finding it wonderfully hilarious that neither of them seemed to be very funny at all as Bokuto won every round. 

“And so she arrives.” 

“Tanaka-san, why are you telling me like I care?” 

“Cut the shit, Tsukishima! The whole team knows you’re a big softie for her.” 

Before the cynical blonde could absolutely deny that claim, the loud cheer of Saeko grabs his attention before doing so. Tanaka’s older sister pulls you into the party with a knowing grin on her face as you embarassedly comply, stepping into Daichi’s house party timidly. 

The nurse costume your body adorned was unreasonably tight, highlighting your upper and lower body parts amazingly, matched well with a nurse hat atop your head innocenly along with knee-high socks that seemed to make your already short skirt even shorter. You wave with a shy grin to the players from Karasuno as Tanaka has to hit Tsukishima to get his attention. 

“I-I’m sorry-what?” 

“I knew it, you softie.” Tanaka snickers, eyes widening when he sees Hinata and Kageyama making it a race towards you to compliment your costume, shoving Tsukishima before he can think about it. 

“Go! Before those two can!” 

Tsukishima goes to deliver a snarky rejection to the wing spiker only to find himself bumping into you, crude words falling on silent lips as your chest presses up against his frame in the process. 

“Oh crap, Tsukishima-Kun, I’m sorry!” 

The blonde moves to speak, but no words come out- only a blush coming instead to involuntarily spread across his cheeks.

“D-Did I hurt you?” You squeak out, and Tsukishima finds it extremely hard to meet your eyes when literally every aspect of your body he had admired from afar before-

was simply magnified with your costume. 

“No.” The blonde rasps, taking his glasses off to wipe them at the bottom of his shirt. “I’m fine.” 

“Are you really? Do you need a check-up?” You joke, doing a little jazz hands pose that the blonde couldn’t help but think was absolutely adorable. 

“Sure.” Tsukishima finds himself saying before he can stop himself. “Give me one. You’re supposed to be a nurse, right?” 

You blink, surprised, as Tsukishima glares at the crowd of Karasuno players looking on from behind you, suddenly wishing he could whisk you away somewhere private as a majority of them giggle like little schoolboys. 

You timidly take out a prop stethoscope, looking down at it and fiddling with it. “I don’t really know where your heart exactly is, much less if this thing works at all-” 

Tsukishima takes the device gently from your hands, moving to put it into both his ears and the circular part over your chest, trying his best to be as gentlemanly as possible. 

“Here.” The blonde arches a brow. “Your heart’s beating out of control.” 

“R-Really? Oh crap, you can tell?” Your eyes widen as Tsukishima continues to pretend to listen, a smirk overtaking his features as you had fallen for his trick.

“Nope. But I now know that it is.”

You squeak when Tsukishima returns the stethoscope to your nurse pocket, leaning down to mumble in your ear, 

“It’s just a prop, but you’re cute for trying.” 

So, as you stood there with a dazed look in your eye and reddened features to match the red cross on your hat, Tsukishima shoved his hands in his pockets before turning and walking off, looking pleased with himself as Tanaka and his sister high five from a distance. 

[squishmallow36]

Magic: the Gathering

Part 3 of Sokeefitz: the Gathering. Part 1 here. Part 2 here.

Written for day 2 of Sokeefitz Week: family, hosted by the aemazing @xanadaus and @gay-otlc

Also a big thank you to @uni-seahorse-572 for listening to my rambling about this fic

Word count: 3.9k

Tw: swearing, food

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed!): @stellar-lune @gaslight-gaetkeep-gayboss @kamikothe1and0lny @nyxpixels @florida-fruity-frog @poppinspop @uni-seahorse-572 @solreefs @never-mourn-the-good @rusted-phone-calls @when-wax-wings-melt @cotyledon-tomentosa @good-old-fashioned-lover-boy7 @dexter-dizzknees @abubble125 @blossomsxgalorex @callum-hunt-is-bisexual @callas-pancake-tree

On Ao3 or below the cut!

    “I’m bored,” Keefe signs, sighing heavily. 

    “What, is Tammy Boy refusing to talk to you again? What is this, the second time this week?”

    “No! Well, yes--but no! I don’t want to argue about Tam’s stupid bangs.”

    Fitz rolls his eyes, going back to his book. Keefe doesn’t know what he’s reading this time but it could be a history textbook for all it cares. 

    Foster, the beautiful angel he is, asks, “Do you know how to shuffle a deck of cards?”

    Keefe shakes its head, bouncing up and down on the couch. 

    “Hang on. Give me one second.” Foster pulls a side table in front of it and starts rummaging through drawers in an attempt to find some cards. 

    It takes several drawers and many seconds before Foster announces, “Yeah, I guess this’ll work,” and drags a chair over to sit across from Keefe. 

    Keefe takes the deck of cards--which has “Magic: the Gathering” written on the back and five small differently-colored dots on a brown background. There’s more details, but Keefe finds a card that’s backwards before it can fully process it. 

    But, when it flips the card over, it also has a picture on it. “Ooh, who’s this?” it asks Foster. 

    “Keefe, did you ever learn how to read?” he answers. 

    It looks at the card to find “Jace, Vryn’s Prodigy” at the top. 

    “Exile, Jace is kinda hot.”

    “I know, right? I’m glad I don’t have a Jace, Cunning Castaway because that’s more than enough motivation to make you or anyone else for that matter become a pirate.”

    Keefe doesn’t hear half of what he says, as it’s destroying the deck Foster set in front of himself, trying to find another one. 

    And he does, but this one only has one side, is shiny, has a red background and is named “Chandra, Bold Pyromancer.” It holds it in front of Foster’s face, who understands immediately. 

    “Now you understand why I’ve been trying to teach you how to play.”

    Keefe nods. 

    “Hey, Fitz. Do you want to learn how to play too?” Foster asks. 

    “I’m good.”

    “Show him Jace,” Keefe suggests. 

    Foster stands up and places it in the place between the pages where a bookmark would rest. “You sure?”

    “This’d make a good bookmark.”

    Foster snatches it away from him, clearly overprotective of Jace. As he should be. 

    Fitz smiles, making butterflies flutter in Keefe’s stomach with that movie star grin. 

    “Do you want me to play?” he asks, looking up from his book for the first time in the last millennia. 

    “Well, Keefie will be angry if I win so I’d like to try to avoid that. At all costs. Because then it’ll never play any games with me ever again.”

   “Fine. Teach it how to shuffle while I finish my chapter. I’ll join you when I’m done.”

    I’m willing to bet his whole book is one giant chapter. Just a feeling. 

    “Alright,” Foster allows, coming to sit in front of Keefe once again. “This isn’t actually that hard. Step one is the most difficult. Split the deck in half, approximately. It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

    Keefe is fully tempted to count out half just to piss Foster off, but figures it’s a bit too early in this conversation for that specific brand of its bullshit. 

    “Then you’re gonna hold each half in your hands like this,” Foster holds the cards with a thumb on the short end, his index finger curled up on the back of it, and the rest of his fingers on the other short end. 

    It takes a second of finagling to get its hands into position, and Keefe figures out why Foster wanted to teach it. If it’s holding things, it can’t sign. 

    “The first few attempts will be yucky, but you’ll figure it out after like a dozen tries. Now it’s just a matter of building up your index finger’s first knuckle because I legit have, like, little calluses from when Amy and I used to play.”

    Keefe does as he instructs before asking, “You and Natalie used to play?”

    “Not with these decks, but yeah. All the time. You didn’t know this?”

    “No.” Keefe tries again to shuffle, more gracefully than the first but by no means elegant, “I am an expert now.”

    “Yes, indeed you are,” Foster replies. 

    That’s when Fitz miraculously joins them, sitting on the couch next to Keefe because the chairs are not good for his knee. That or he wants to see what cards Keefe has. Not as though it would help all that much when he doesn’t know what the cards would do.

    Lots of words on these fuckers. 

    “Okay, what the Exile are we doing?” Fitz asks, head resting on Keefe’s shoulder. 

    Foster thinks for a second before deciding, “Let’s start by picking colors based on their basic philosophies. You get two colors to make a standard sixty card deck, and I have enough of these so you don’t have to fight if you both want the same one although I’ve met both of you so it seems unlikely. And please don’t pick the same colors as the other one just because you feel like being an ass.”

    “I want all the colors. I want gay,” Keefe signs. 

    “You get two. If you’re on your good behavior, maybe you’ll get to move up to a tricolor deck. Maybe. So let’s get started. There is an official order of the colors, so I’m going to start with white’s philosophy. White represents order, peace, and I’ve made you play DnD--which was also made by Wizards of the Coast, by the way--they’re just a bunch of lawful goods.”

    Keefe fake gags, knowing Fitz is just such a lawful good. When he wants to be. And Alvar is six feet under. 

    “They’ve got some mean cards in there, including a whole lot of flyers,” Foster continues. “Then blue, despite you thinking it’ll be a watery color, really isn’t. There are certainly some decks themed around that, but I only have one commander that uses it that way. The others are either artifact or pain in the fucking ass by using instants and sorceries and flying creatures to just shut the other player completely down decks.”

    “Alright, that’s slightly less boring.” Keefe notices Fitz is blushing harder than usual. “Oh, my stars, Fitz. Are you gay for the blue deck?”

    “I’m not saying it’s Jace’s fault…but it’s Jace’s fault.” He picks up the card lying on the table. “Wait. He’s a telepath?”

    “Yeah,” Foster replies condescendingly. 

    “Stars fucking exile.”

    “I didn’t make the card. Apparently you running around the Lost Cities looking for me inspired Wizards of the Coast to make a card based on this kid who kept popping up in the news everywhere.”

    I mean, they do look kinda similar. Fitz is definitely more tan, but there is a resemblance, especially when you consider that the little picture can’t show all the small details. 

    “That…doesn’t sound right. But okay.” Fitz nods. 

    “Moving on,” Foster continues, “Black is like zombies and vampires and using your own health to make yourself stronger. Blue/black is definitely fun, but mono black…eh. I’m not a fan, personally. Red. Red is fun. It’s fast and it’s one of the easier colors to play. It also has a lot of chaeos and fire and all that fun shit. Direct damage and dragons.”

    “Fun shit indeed,” agrees Keefe.

    “Then, finally, we have green, which is just a little slower than red but about as easy to play. It features gigantic creatures and trample which allows any overflowing damage to go to the player you’re attacking. So. How are we feeling?”

    Foster grabs Keefe’s freshly shuffled deck and starts separating it into its blue and green parts. 

    Fitz answers, “Definitely blue and maybe white.”

    Keefe is tempted to pick blue/white but those don’t sound fun. “I’m still mad I can’t make it gay but I guess I want Chandra and the Aggressive Mammoth I saw while shuffling so that’s…red and green, right?”

    “Yep. And that’s exactly what I predicted you two would take. Now. How to play. There are five main card types--land, instant, sorcery, enchantment, and creature, and we will be ignoring artifacts and planeswalkers for the purpose of this lesson, I’m sorry, but Jace will be able to stare into your soul from here.”

    Foster takes both Jace and Chandra away, and Keefe is kind of tempted to wrestle them out of his hand. 

    It holds itself back though. Save that for after the game. 

    Foster explains, “Lands create mana to allow you to cast the other card types. The cost is displayed in the top corner that isn’t the name of the card because I know you struggle with left and right so we’re gonna phrase it that way. And like this one,” he reveals a Shivan Dragon, “is four of any color plus two red so you need six total. You really don’t have to count beyond seven in this game.”

    “Fuck. I don’t know if I can do that,” Keefe signs. 

    “I can help you out with any conversions of mana cost or strategies or special abilities like this one,” he shows a Volcanic Dragon, “has haste. Which may or may not be defined on the card because I’m not looking at it but it basically means it can attack on the turn it’s cast. Everybody else has summoning sickness on their first turn.”

    Keefe signs, “I’m superior!”

    But Foster has to burst its bubble. “Lots of creatures have different abilities like this so don’t let yourself get too confident yet. I realize as I’m saying this that it’s extraordinarily futile. And, uh, an important ability both of you will probably have come up is flying. Flying creatures can only be blocked by other creatures with flying or reach. I don’t think there’s anything with reach in here, if either of you do, it’s probably you, Keefe, but I don’t know anymore.”

    “Okay,” Fitz nods. 

    “One more important aspect of this is how to actually win. The goal is to be the last one alive. You start with 20 health and between direct damage like shock or creatures like the canopy spider, that’s gonna get whittled down pretty quickly. So to know how much damage a creature does or can take, you look in the bottom corner like with this guy,” Foster shows us the canopy spider still in his hand, “is a 1/3. That means when he attacks, he deals 1 damage but he takes 3 in a single turn to kill.”

    “Pretty accurate to real spiders, then,” Fitz remarks. 

    “And then there’s a giant spider who’s a 2/4 and a mammoth spider who’s a 3/5 so I’d say yeah. They aren’t in this deck, but I’ve played with both before. Fitz, I know you’d love to read the entire rules manual before we start but I think this is a good enough intro for us to start if you don’t have any questions.”

    “I feel like I don’t know enough to even know what questions to ask.”

    “Yeah, that’ll work. You’ll figure it out. Do either of you want to go fir--” he notices Keefe’s hand already raised excitedly. “Why do I even ask anymore?”

     He gives it its preshuffled deck, although it does one more shuffle just in case. It doesn’t trust anyone, least not Foster, enough to think they haven’t rigged the deck. 

    “Draw seven cards. If you like them, keep them. If not, you can reshuffle and draw seven new cards. We aren’t playing yahtzee so don’t even start trying to argue those rules. Technically you’re supposed to reduce it by one if you take a mulligan, but house rules say otherwise.”

    While he explains, Foster shuffles Fitz’s deck, then gives it to him. “Same thing, my dude. The general guidelines are if you have between 2 and 5 lands and the color of the lands matches the color of the spells you have, you should be good. Also you want some cheap cards in there. And the vibes to be right. If you want me to check, I do have eyeballs.”

   ��“Nah, I’m going to be reckless,” Keefe says, pulling away from Fitz’s prying eyes. 

    In its hand, it has a Vorstclaw, just a little guy at 7/7; a 2/2 Goblin Smuggler with haste and can prevent little guys with power 2 or less from being blocked; a forest and a mountain; an Overcome which gives creatures +2/+2 until end of turn and trample, a 3/2 boring Fearless Halberdier; and that ever-glorious 8/8 Aggressive Mammoth which gives everybody trample.

    “Oh, I forgot!” Foster interrupts. “Just one quick note: you can only put down one land each turn unless a card specifically says otherwise. Like, uh, Aesi, Tyrant of Dire Straits.”

    “I don’t have one of those,” Keefe signs. 

    “I know. They’re a blue/green living in a commander deck. But they’re the first one I thought of, okay?”

    “...fine.” Keefe puts down a single forest after much debate and then can’t do anything else. So it’s Fitz’s turn. 

    “Is this a good starting hand or not so much?” Fitz asks, sliding it over to him on the table. 

    “It’s a little dangerous, but you’ll probably be able to make it work. It’s up to you. And make sure you draw a card at the beginning of your turn.”

    Keefe tries to take a card, but nearly gets its hand slapped away. “You went first. You don’t get a card on your first turn.”

    Keefe pouts. 

    Fitz simply puts down an island before being rendered incapable of doing anything, giving the turn back to Keefe.

    Keefe draws a card, this time without the threat of bodily harm, and gets another boring Fearless Halberdier for its troubles. It puts down a mountain--so exciting--and then it’s Fitz’s turn once again. 

    He draws a card, puts down an island, and then it’s Keefe’s turn once more. This game is so captivating. Just gonna keep trading lands to put down. 

    Except it’s out of lands. 

    It draws its card, a boring 2/2 goblin assailant that it can manage to pay for so puts cer down in front of itself, asking Foster, “I can’t attack with cer yet, right?”

    “Does ce have haste?”

    “No…that’s lame.” It declares it Fitz’s turn, having nothing else it can do. 

    Fitz draws his card and whispers, “Psst, Sophie. Do I want to use this?” He carefully slides over a card so Keefe can’t see what it is. 

    “You could but I wouldn’t. It’s playing green. Wait for it to pull out something a little bigger,” Foster answers. 

    “And risk taking damage this next turn?”

    “Yeah. You’ve got 20 of them. Don’t worry about it.”

    “...okay. I’m trusting you. Don’t make me regret this.” Fitz decides, declaring it Keefe’s turn. 

    It draws its card, getting a mountain to place on the battlefield immediately, and casts a Fearless Halberdier. “Attack with Goblin Assailant, 2/2.” 

    “Fitz, you can’t block, I mean technically you could interfere with that card you just showed me as long as it’s an instant, but I wouldn’t recommend it. So you’re down to 18,” Sophie says, reaching across the table and turning Keefe’s Goblin Assailant ninety degrees. 

    Fitz glares at Keefe. 

    “I know. And it’s your turn.”

    Fitz draws a card, looks at it, places it, a plains, on the battlefield, then uses that plains and also the two other islands he has to cast a phantom warrior, a little guy who’s a 2/2 and can’t be blocked. Ze’s a little fucking bitch. 

   When given back the turn, Keefe draws its card, fixes its Goblin Assailant, and does the same as Fitz except it’s a mountain and it’s casting a Goblin Smuggler, the little guy that’s the 2/2 with haste.

    “Attack with all three of my dudes. Goblin Assailant, 2/2, Fearless Halberdier, 3/2, and our new one here, Goblin Smuggler, is a 2/2.” It turns each one as it reads the cards off. 

    “Rude,” Fitz mutters. 

    “Fitz, If I were you, I’d block the Halberdier with your Phantom Warrior.” Foster says. 

    “I can do that?” Fitz asks at the same time Keefe asks, “He can do that?”

    “Yep. Both will die in the process though.”

    Fitz does as Foster suggests, and this is an act of war. 

    Fitz still takes 4 damage from the other creatures, bringing his total down to 14. Then it’s his turn once again.

   He draws and casts a cloudkin seer, a little 2/1 guy with flying that lets him draw a card. 

    All Keefe knows is that it probably isn’t a land because he doesn’t put it directly onto the battlefield. And then it’s Keefe’s turn again. 

    It draws a Rubblebelt Recluse, a big little guy who’s a 6/5 that attacks each combat if able. Like it wouldn’t already do that. 

    Then, it casts the other Fearless Halberdier in its hand, partially because that’s pretty much all it can afford and also to replace the one Fitz killed. 

    “Attack with Goblin Assailant, 2/2, and Goblin Smuggler, also 2/2.” 

    Fitz blocks the Smuggler with his Cloudkin Seer, killing them both and takes the other two damage, bringing his total down to 12.

    Fitz draws and places down an island on his next turn, casting an Octoprophet, a nice-sized little guy who’s a 3/3 and lets him see the next two cards in his deck. Then he throws the turn back to Keefe, terrified of his inevitable demise. 

    Keefe draws an Engulfing Eruption to deal 5 damage directly to a creature. 

    I guess that’s what Foster meant by direct damage. Cool. I wonder if you could build a deck solely around that. Probably. 

    Keefe, having no patience whatsoever, decides to just kill the Octoprophet with the Engulfing Eruption while it has the chance.

    “Was that really necessary?” Fitz asks. 

    “Yes.” answers Keefe. “And now it’s time to attack with both my dudes. 2/2 Goblin Assailant, 3/2 Fearless Halberdier.”

    Fitz can’t block any of the damage, and he’s down to 7.

    On his next turn, he draws his card, then casts a Fortress Crab. 

    Foster interrupts his thinking process by asking, “May I make a suggestion?”

    “Sure, why not? I’m close to death anyway so it doesn’t really matter.”

    He points to his cards.  “Cast this and this.”

    “This and this” are apparently an unsummon on Keefe’s Fearless Halberdier and a Haazda Officer, a little 3/2 guy who’s functionally the same as the Fearless Halberdier except for an ability that doesn’t get used and the fact it’s white, not red. 

    Then, it’s Keefe’s turn once again. It draws a forest, places it down, does a little happy dance because he can cast something, and that something is a Rubblebelt Recluse. Just a little 6/5 guy that has to attack each turn if able. 

    But summoning sickness makes it unable, so Keefe decides to hold on to its soldiers for the first time since this game started. Having nothing else to do, it unwillingly declares it Fitz’s turn. 

     Fitz draws a card, buries it deep into his hand, and casts a fortress crab, a 1/6 designed to be as annoying as possible for Keefe. 

    But then it’s its turn once again. And it draws a forest. And it dances again. Now it can cast the Aggressive Mammoth that’s been burning a hole in its hand since it drew it before the first turn. So now it has an 8/8 with trample that also gives all other creatures it controls trample. 

    In its excitement, it forgot to actually put the forest down, so it adds that to the battlefield before attacking with its Rubblebelt Recluse 6/5. This gets blocked by Fitzy’s new crab. Crab is officially dead and the Rubblebelt Recluse is completely fine.

    Well, maybe zae’s a little annoyed. So is Keefe. 

    And it’s Fitz’s turn once more. He draws a card, then casts some Coral Merfolks in a desperate attempt to block as much damage as possible. 

    2/1s really are not going to do much when everything Keefe controls has trample. 

    Bracing for impact, Fitz gives the turn back to Keefe for the last time. 

    Keefe has spent Fitz’s turn trying to do the math on how much damage it can possibly do in a single turn, and survey seems to say that it’s more than enough. Especially when he throws a sorcery into the mix. 

    It draws its card, only a little sad it won’t get to use this Shivan Dragon this game. That has to be saved for a future game. 

    Keefe casts Overcome, which is a sorcery that gives all of its creatures +2/+2 and trample, as though they didn’t already because of the Aggressive Mammoth. 

    “Attack with Goblin Assailant 4/4, Rubblebelt Recluse 8/7, and Aggressive Mammoth 10/10.”

    “Well, that’s just a few points of damage there, love,” Fitz remarks. 

    “Yeah, and everybody has trample. Can you get Foster to double check some rules for us?”

   “Sophie!” it calls to Foster who has wandered away for some reason. 

   “Yes?” comes his response, probably from the kitchen. 

    “I’ve got two 2/1s and a 3/2 and Keefe has some dudes with trample. I was just wondering how incredibly dead I am.”

    “Well, whatever Keefe’s creatures’ strength combined minus four blocked points is how much it does to you. I don’t know if that’s the answer you want, but it’s the answer I’m going to give.”

    “So, uh, just 18 damage, right? Just a few?” Fitz asks, doing the math for Keefe. 

    “Yeah, let’s go with that. I don’t want to do addition today,” signs Keefe. 

    “I’m dead. I am very dead. I am at like negative 9 levels of dead.”

    “I am victorious!” 

    “What you are is a pain in the ass.”

    “Yeah, that too.”

    “Just hang on one second before you start your victory dance that’s suspiciously similar to Goblin dancing.”

    “But why?”

    “Because I said so.” 

    Ah, yes. The inarguable argument. Sounds like he doesn’t care enough to actually debate with me. Rude.

    Seemingly on cue, Foster re-enters the room, and sets a plate with a glorious cake in front of Keefe. 

    Fitz has never particularly tried when decorating a cake. Beyond frosting and sprinkles, of course. This one is no exception.

    But Keefe won’t argue because, well, it’s cake. You don’t argue with cake. Because then you won’t get any future cake. 

    “Consider this payment for your art lessons last weekend. And also for your victory,” Fitz says. 

    “Thank you, Fitz. It is much appreciated. I will now devour the entire thing like I’ve never eaten anything in my life.” Instead of cutting a slice, Keefe just takes a fork and starts demolishing the cake from the outside. 

    “You know, you could save some for breakfast tomorrow.”

    “The future is meaningless. The cake is now,” it signs with chocolate-crumby hands. 

    “Keefe, uh, you got a little frosting,” Foster gestures to his cheek, and Keefe tries to swipe it off, undoubtedly smearing more frosting in the process. 

   “Let me help,” Foster says, leaning closer until he licks the frosting away, kissing it on the way back down to his chair.

    “That was my frosting!” Keefe screeches. 

    “Then maybe you should’ve protected it better.”

[babybluebex]

not your duke [tom holland x reader]

➽ pairing: prince!tom holland x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 2.7k ➽ summary: at the dawn of the new century, you meet two men: one, your betrothed, and the other, a prince with a secret.  ➽ warnings: explicit language, gothic era shit bc i live for that ➽ a/n: many thanks to the loml @earthlyholland​ for coming up with the title and urging me to finish writing this i luv u kiss 

Nothing had ever drawn you into London. In fact, you were staunchly opposed to the idea when your father first told you that you were moving. What was the point of it? You knew that your father could conduct business as easily from the States as from England, but what’s done is done. You had lived in London for a short time, only a few months, before you realized the real reason why your father relocated you. 

You met your fiancé at a party. London was known for its aristocracy, and your father’s banking business had put him in high regard with many of the British elite, so it wasn’t a surprise that you were invited to a New Years party. “The Osterfields,” your father told you. “I’m told they have a son only just older than you.” 

“Really?” you asked, looking out the window, hardly curious. “His name?”

“Harrison,” your father told you. The carriage bumped along the street, and you swayed with it. “The Honourable Harrison Osterfield of Kingston.” 

“Of course he’s noble,” you muttered. “Father, will you ever stop trying to marry me off?” 

“Your younger sister is already married,” your father reminded you. “If it’s not soon, it’ll never happen. And Sir Harrison is a perfectly agreeable gentleman.” 

“Agreeable to you,” you scoffed. 

“He’s an Oxford-educated man,” your father pressed. “Well-read, which I know is something you covet. I’m told he’s a good conversationalist as well; I guess you’ll be able to judge that for yourself tonight.” 

You cried out in opposition. “Father! Am I to meet Little Lord Fauntelroy tonight?” 

“Watch your tongue, girl. You are to meet your fiancé tonight.” 

The New Years party hosted by the Baron and Baroness Osterfield was what you expected, a lush spectacle of champagne and pleasing music and perfume. It wasn’t the sort of place that you usually found comfort at, but you tried your best; the Baron Osterfield was a close business partner of your father’s, and you couldn’t afford to muck everything up by having a foul attitude. “Lord Osterfield,” my father began, placing a hand on my back to usher me into his conversation. “Might I introduce my daughter?” 

The man before you was older, his fair hair tinged with a bit of grey, but he was dressed wonderfully in his tails and a red tie. “Pleasure to meet you, miss,” he said in a sonorous voice. “You’re the lass that’s engaged to our Haz, yes?”

“So I’ve been told,” you smiled, and your father sent a warning pinch to your back through your dress. Attitude, you could hear him scolding you. 

“Have you met him yet?” Lord Osterfield asked. “He’s a strapping lad; running around with his uni mates, I’m sure.” He looked around the room, bustling with activity, and he made a quick motion with his hand when he spotted someone across the room. 

The space before you was suddenly filled by a young man, still older than you, blond hair and green eyes, a wonderful smile on his face and his cheeks blushed. His eyes sparkled as he looked at you, and he took your hand in a gentle but strong hold. “Hello, madam,” he said cordially. “I’m called Harrison. Haz, to most.” 

“Haz,” you repeated slowly. “I’d rather keep with Lord Osterfield, if that pleases you.” 

“Of course, madam,” Harrison said. “Might I interest you in a turn about the garden? It’s such a lovely night.” 

You looked to your father for permission, and he patted your back with a nod. Harrison saw this and gave a smile, and you hooked your arm with his as he led you out into the cold December night. Harrison’s body was warm and you found yourself moving into him, and he finally stopped at a metal bench along the path. “Do you mind if I smoke?” Harrison asked, settling himself onto the bench. 

You shrugged. Harrison took that to mean “No”, and he situated a cigarette in his mouth. It was rolled perfectly, either the work of a skilled amateur or a professional; either way, it was the smallest proof of his aristocracy. All of your friends smoked lopsided cigarettes that had tobacco that spilled out of the ends. 

“I’m sure you like this as well as I do,” Harrison began. “I told my parents that I prefer to marry for love, but my younger sister is already married. They said it was getting to be--”

“Too late,” you supplied. “My father said the same of me.” 

“You prefer to marry for love as well?” Harrison asked. Feeling slightly more at ease than before, you sat down next to him, fiddling with your skirt to lay right. 

“I would like to,” you said. “But we both know that’s not possible.” 

Harrison shrugged. “We only have a few minutes left of this year,” he said, looking at the Swiss watch on his wrist. “Who knows? Maybe 1900 holds newfound possibilities.” 

You tilted your head. “What makes you so sure?” you asked. 

“I’m not sure,” Harrison chuckled. A strand of blond escaped the rest of his styled hair, and you gently pushed it back, earning you a smile from your fiancé. “I’m just hopeful.” 

“Hope can be dangerous,” you remarked. 

“That’s true,” Harrison said. “But what’s the harm in having a little hope? Perhaps we can learn to love each other.”

“Perhaps we can,” you agreed. “I guess we have the rest of our lives to do that.” 

Harrison smiled at you, and you huffed out a laugh. He pulled a drag from his cigarette, and he said, “So we’re getting married, huh?”

“Seems like it.” 

There was a shout from the house, one that made Harrison look over, and you did as well to see a man, about the same age as Harrison, dressed nicely with curly hair, half-hanging out of the house. “Haz, get your stupid arse in here!” the man yelled. “Find your girl, the clock’s about to turn!” 

“I have my girl, you git!” Harrison cried. Before either of you could say anything, the man slipped from the house and came over to the two of you, and Harrison rolled his eyes. “Here we go…” he whispered. 

“This is her?” the man asked. He was British too, and he smiled at you widely. 

“Yes,” Harrison said, and he stood up. You did the same, and Harrison carefully took your hand. “This is Y/N, my fiancé.” 

“Ah,” the man said. “Hello, madam.”

“Y/N, this is one of my mates from university,” Harrison told you. “Duke Harold Holland of Kingston-Upon-Thames.”

“Call me Harry,” he said quickly. “Everyone else does.”

“Harry,” you said with a relieved smile. “I’m pleased to meet you.” 

“Likewise,” Harry said. “Have you only just met?”

“Just several minutes ago,” Harrison told him, his arm snaking around your waist. 

“Well, it’s quite cold out,” Harry said. “And the clock’s about to turn. Come in, madam, get a drink.”

“Oh, I don’t drink,” you told Lord Harry Holland of Kingston-Upon-Thames quickly. “It doesn’t agree with me.” 

“No matter,” Harry said. “I’ll warn you, though: a drink completely agrees with your fiancé.” He gave a laugh, and you noticed that Harrison shifted uncomfortably next to you. 

“Well, Christ, don’t make me out to be a drunkard,” Harrison laughed nervously. “You’ll frighten her away, and we only just agreed to go through with this.”

“Not meant to frighten you, madam,” Harry said quickly. “In fact, my oldest brother doesn’t drink. Perhaps you two will get along.” 

“Oh, no, Harry, she’ll hate Thomas,” Harrison sighed. He looked at you, then added, “Thomas is quite a bore, honestly. Not nearly as fun as me, Harry or Sam.”

“Sam? Thomas?” you asked. You agreed that Haz and Harry seemed like fun, but anxiety thrummed in your chest. If Thomas was a bore to Harrison, you didn’t want to know what he truly thought of you. You could easily also be classified as a bore: you preferred reading and drawing to the piano or squash that was popular with your friends. You had done ballet when you were growing up, but were by no means athletic otherwise. 

“My twin brother, Samuel,” Harry began. “And Thomas is… Haz is right, he’s an awful bore. He brought a fucking book tonight, can you believe it? What sort of sod brings a book to a party?”

“But Thomas is a good friend,” Harrison added. “He’s a wonderful listener and gives excellent advice.” 

You nodded slowly. Thomas already seemed like a better match than Harrison, and you cursed your father. Of course he would match you with someone who wasn’t the best option for you. But no matter. Your fiancé offered you his arm and you took it, and you followed the men back into the ballroom. There was a renewed energy, and the ballroom was abuzz. You were introduced to Duke Samuel Holland, a man who bore a striking resemblance to Harry (as they should), and were briefly told about the twins’ younger brother, a boy of sixteen named Lord Patrick. The Honourable Charlotte Osterfield came after Sam, and she was giggling the entire night; she was engaged to Sir Tuwaine Barrett of Chelsea, another uni mate of your fiance’s. 

“Where is Thomas?” Harrison asked, looking around wildly. “He promised me that he’d be my New Years’ kiss!” 

“Did he swear to it as he did to Nadia?” Harry chortled. “I bet he’s gone home already. Slipped away without any of us noticing.” 

The clock chimed, and Harrison turned his jade gaze back to you. You gave him a gleeful look over the brim of your champagne as you took a sip, and your body cowered at the bitterness of the French alcohol. “Happy New Year, dearest,” Harrison said quietly, just for you to hear. “Here’s to many more.” 

You nodded. Suddenly, your chest felt tight, and your head was spinning, and you knew it wasn’t from the alcohol. You suddenly saw the rest of your life flash in front of your eyes: The Honorable Lady Osterfield, on your husband’s arm every single day, expected to please him and serve him. You didn’t want that. 

“Y/N,” Harrison said, putting a hand on your shoulder. His eyebrows were furrowed, and you at least felt comforted at his genuine worry. “You look pale. Are you okay?” 

“Yes,” you whispered. “Quite fine. I told you that alcohol doesn’t agree well with me.” 

Harrison nodded, his lips drawn thin, and he turned to Harry. “Call her carriage,” he instructed him. “I think my dearest needs to go home.” 

Harry nodded, giving you a worried look, but hurried off to do as his friend requested. Harrison took the flute of champagne from you and set it down, and he put a hand on your back. “I hate that you’ve gone ill,” he said. “I do wish we can see each other again, though. I enjoy your company greatly.”

“And I, yours,” you replied. “I really apologize for my behavior--”

“Harrison,” a booming voice came, and you looked to see the Baron Osterfield approaching you. “I need to speak with you, son.”

“Father, can it wait?” Harrison asked. “I’m a bit busy at the moment.” 

“His Majesty needs to speak to you,” Lord Osterfield said. “A business venture, he says.”

Harrison looked from you to his father, and he chewed his bottom lip. “I’ll be right there,” he told his father. “I just need to escort Y/N to her carriage.”

“Harrison, Dominic cannot be kept waiting,” Lord Osterfield grumbled. “Especially not on such a matter.” 

Harrison looked at you once more, then his eyes caught someone behind you. “Thomas,” he said. “Thomas! Come here, please!” 

Your heart hit against the wall of your chest when you finally saw Thomas Holland. He was a well-built man, wearing nice clothes that were a bit worn in places. His hair was dark, and in frizzy curls, crawling down his face, as was the fashion. His eyes were the color of amber, his cheeks pink, his lips thin but like a rose. He had a book under his arm, bound in leather, a bit of paper sticking from the top. “Would you do me an amazing favor?” Harrison asked. “I have to speak to your father; can you escort Y/N to her carriage out front?” 

“Y/N?” Thomas asked, and your heart warmed and melted just like chocolate. He had a beautiful voice, and you could just imagine the way he sounded as he read aloud. 

“My betrothed,” Harrison said, gesturing to you. “She’s fallen ill and must be taken home at once.”

Thomas finally pulled his gaze to your face, and a lopsided smile came across his face. “Oh, of course,” he said. “Such an honor to meet you, madam.” 

“Same to you, sir,” you said. “I’ve heard tell about you.” 

Thomas’s smile faltered. “Good things?” he asked. 

“Nothing but the best,” you said. You still felt dizzy, but Thomas’s warm hand on your arm brought you comfort, much more than Harrison’s did. “I apologize again, Lord Osterfield. I hope to see you soon.” 

Harrison kissed the back of your hand. “Same to you, dearest.” 

Thomas led you out of the crowded and loud ballroom to the front of the manor. “Lord Osterfield?” he chuckled lowly. “He’s your fiancé. You should call him by his name.” 

You shrugged. “I can’t bring myself to,” you said. “I hardly know him.” 

Thomas nodded. “I understand,” he said. “So… Harrison told you good things about me?” You nodded, and Thomas let out a laugh. You could tell that it was bitter, though. “Excuse my language, madam, but that’s a load of horseshit. You know it as well as I do. Harrison only puts up with me because my brothers are his closest mates.” 

You were startled at his honesty. “I suppose that’s true,” you mumbled. “My sisters are the same with me. They call me boring, say I’m no fun.” 

“The same is said of me,” Thomas said. “I’m perhaps the least commendable of my brothers.”

You nodded carefully, then tilted your head to look at his novel. “What are you reading?” you asked. 

Thomas smiled. “You’d like to know what I’m reading?” he asked. “Are you actually curious?”

“Yes!” you said. “I just read the most wonderful novel, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. It’s called McTeague and it’s about an American dentist--” 

“By Frank Norris?” Thomas asked excitedly. He pulled out the book to show you, and you smiled at the same one you had been describing. “It’s so entertaining. You’ve finished it, then?”

“Just last night,” you told him. “I won’t spoil it for you, but it was so wonderful.” 

“Have you read The Picture of Dorian Gray?” Thomas asked. When you shook your head, Thomas’s face went red, and he laughed. “It’s my favorite. I could lend you my copy, if you’d like.”

“Oh, Thomas, that would be so lovely,” you gushed. “You’re too kind.” 

Thomas shrugged. “You’re my best mate’s girl,” he said. “I’m obligated to be kind to you.” 

You chewed your bottom lip. “And what of your wife?” you asked. “Am I to meet her soon?” 

Thomas came to a stop at the edge of the steps, casting a glance out at the carriage that rumbled closer. “I am unwedded,” he said. “Courtships have come and gone, but none have ever come to fruition. My father believes in me proposing rather than being forced into marriage, but I’ve never found a lady that I truly loved.” 

Your carriage stopped before the two of you, and the Osterfield’s servant opened the door for you. “Miss Y/L/N,” he said, then turned his attention to Thomas, and he lowered his head in reverence. “Your Highness.” 

“Your Highness?” you repeated, and your heart flipped in your chest. “But I thought that you were a duke?”

“My brothers are,” Thomas explained. “But, seeing as I’m the oldest and heir apparent, I get a different tile.” 

“Your Highness, though?” you chuckled. “What are you, a prince?” 

Your laughter died when you saw the stony look on Thomas’s face. “Yes,” he said. “Did Harrison not tell you?” 

You shifted. No. Please, God, you pleaded. Don’t let it be true. 

A smile played at Thomas’s face. “My lady,” he said. “I’m Thomas Stanley Holland. Prince Thomas of England.” 

[lovelyirony]

that rhodeytony piece with the bots........... iconic. do you think we could have more of that sweet sweet mit era?? I just think they’re neat

Look. Rhodey hadn’t meant to build another robot. But Tony was at some business conference for the weekend, and Dum-E was just pitifully sad. If Tony had been there, he would’ve convinced Rhodey that Dum-E is a drama queen and acts like the end of the world is happening at any minor inconvenience. 

But why not give Dum-E a little sibling? This is how U comes to be, and he’s quite the gentleman, far more gentle than his big brother. 

Rhodey enjoys teaching him how to pick up socks and shoes, and how to put the coffee mugs on the counter gently, something that Dum-E is not good at yet, but they’re trying their best. (He has a stuffed coffee mug that they got from the pet store that he’s flung at every single surface so far.) 

-

Tony comes back from his business conference (which ugh) looking for cuddles, dinner, and maybe a movie date night if they can get Dum-E to stop trying to escape the apartment. 

What he isn’t expecting is for his boyfriend to be mediating a fight between two robots. 

Two. 

He stares at his boyfriend for a moment. 

“Rhodey, darling, is Dum-E having a...play-date?” 

Rhodey freezes. 

“Oh!” He says, grinning. “I, um...made him a sibling?” 

“And they’re...fighting?” 

“Well, for now. Dum-E’s mad because he didn’t get to put actual coffee mugs on the counter, and U is mad because Dum-E stole the couch blanket. I think U is really into decoration!” 

“Yeah, that explains everything,” Tony says faintly, sitting. “So...U? Like, the letter?” 

“Yeah, you like it?” 

“And you thought that it made a good name for what?” 

“Well, it was more of a placeholder, honestly. But then he liked it!” 

U looks over at Tony curiously. 

“U, this is Tony. Your other dad. We used part of his code to make you!” 

The arm bumps softly against Tony’s, which is an improvement from Dum-E, who tends to go full-force. (Although they’ve worked on it.) 

“So...” Tony says. “You think with U, we won’t need to look for a babysitter for date night?”

“No, we will. We definitely will. Dum-E hasn’t adjusted to a sibling yet.” 

“Poor baby,” Tony coos, patting Dum-E on the claw. “You thought you were going to be the only attention-seeker for a while, didn’t you?” 

He glowers, wheeling back and acting very high-and-mighty for a robot who just threw the equivalent of a tantrum. 

Rhodey looks at Tony, kissing him on the forehead as he leans over to lay on his legs. 

“How was the business conference, honey?” 

“Utter shit. I didn’t need to go, I was an ego boost for Obie to tote around.” 

“Told you that you shouldn’t have gone.” 

“If I said ‘no’ one more time, we would’ve had to have a phone call about my ‘five year plan’ and ‘legacy’ bullshit. You know that that gives me a migraine. Besides, he gave me a gift certificate to a fancy restaurant, so that means we get to have a good meal one of these weekends when you visit.” 

“Who said I would visit with you?” 

“Because Jarvis adores you and I think Ana wants to adopt you and force you to stay.” 

“You make a compelling argument,” Rhodey says, pretending to think about it. “I’ll...consider it.” 

Tony snorts. 

“And they say I’m the asshole here.” 

-

Two years later, Dum-E and U demand that they get a sibling. The dads are back home together (for now) and Jarvis has grown tired of reason. 

“They want a sibling, Sir.” 

“What, each other isn’t enough?” 

“They have requested many movie nights where there are siblings or groups of friends, and I think they want to, in a sense, replicate the scenarios.” 

“They’ve already done all of it? Wasn’t it them who got onto a plane for DC just because they wanted to see Pops?” 

“Yes, yes it was.” 

“You know, J, I still think that you helped them with that one.” 

“I most certainly did not.” 

(Jarvis totally did. He gets bored, you know? Besides, Colonel Rhodes hadn’t been home for three months, which should have counted for cruel and unusual punishment.) 

“Well, regardless of your guilt in certain situations, we’ll have a family discussion about maybe a new sibling.” 

Rhodey gets a text as he’s grocery shopping. 

hey, need to talk about family stuff. can you also pick up some more colby jack cheese? 

sure. what’s it about? 

your son has decided he wants a sibling. he convinced dum-e....

got it. 

Rhodey laughs to himself as he turns his cart around, going towards the dairy section. Of course U would decide something like that, it makes sense. 

- 

Tony is looking at Rhodey with a disappointed look on his face. 

“This is all your fault.” 

“How is this my fault?” 

“You dote on the boys too much.” 

“Oh, I do that? Who makes them Halloween costumes every year and hosts a party with all of the other appliances we’ve made over the years?” 

“Oh like you hate those, Mr. ‘Here’s-the-hand-made-Halloween-playlist’.” 

“True,” Rhodey says, setting down the bags. “Help me put away all of this stuff, half of it is yours anyway.” 

“We have a shared fridge, Honeybear.” 

“Tell that to your pomegranates taking up about two shelves!” 

“Only for now, and half of those are Pepper’s! They’re not all mine.” 

“Do you think she would want a say in the robot? After all, she does have to deal with U and Dum-E worshiping the ground she walks on.” 

“And she is the reason that Dum-E usually succeeds in his smoothie-making,” Tony admits. “Yeah, sure, invite her over.” 

- 

Whenever Pepper is asked what it’s like having to be a personal assistant to Tony Stark, she always wants to answer with something like “oh, it’s really fulfilling to help a company reach its goal and learn so much from my boss to apply to what comes next” or even “oh, it’s nice.” 

She got invited to dinner, and is now in a conversation about whether or not Dum-E and U, her boss’s children, should get a sibling. 

And the fact that her boss’s children are robots, have two dads, and think that Pepper is the best thing since life itself. 

“Why do they need a sibling?” Pepper asks, chewing on her pasta. 

“Because they’re bored, and we think that maybe we’ll stop getting calls from the fire stations around town that they’re trying to wreak havoc again,” Rhodey says. “They’ll want to teach the new sibling how life works around the house, and we can start on security measures.” 

“Can’t you just put a genetic lock on the door or something?” Pepper asks. 

“They’re surpassed it,” Tony says grumpily. 

“How?” 

“Don’t look at me!” Tony defends. “Look at Jim-dear, who is obsessed with true crime documentaries! They picked up how to gain evidence and use it for proof from him and Forensic Files!” 

Pepper puts her head in her hands. 

“Just once, I wish that we had a dinner to discuss a business proposal or something normal instead of whether or not your two boys need a sibling.” 

“Well, we are thinking about a daughter,” James admits. “And we wanted to talk to you about that.” 

“Why, because I’m the only female either of you know?!” 

“No,” Tony says quickly. “We know plenty of women!” 

“Name seven.” 

“Plead the fifth,” Rhodey jokes. “But you spend time here, and so we wanted to know what you’d want to see in a robot.” 

“How the hell should I know?” 

“You work for the best tech mogul in two hundred years,” Tony says. 

“Tones, you’re entirely too cocky.” 

“Oh shut up babe,” Tony says, no real heat to the sentiment. “Besides, I’ve treated you well, haven’t I?” 

“Other than embarrassing me in front of every single government official every time you interact, sure.” 

“You love it, they hate it, win-win,” Tony says, stirring around his mocktail. “But Pepper, seriously. What do you think about a third robot?” 

“Well, can’t get anymore chaotic,” Pepper sighs. “And I think having a girl around would be...nice. Not as chaotic.” 

“You saying girls don’t bring as much chaos?” 

“No,” Pepper says. “I’m just saying that we know when to bring it.” 

- 

Butterfingers is born, and she is the most perfect definition of a “daddy’s girl” any robot has ever been. She wheels around with grace, although she can’t stop bumping into things and dropping things, being worse than Dum-E. (Which he actually adores.) 

She follows Pepper along in awe, and can be seen usually in her office. 

Curiously enough, the only time she doesn’t live up to her name is in Pepper’s office, where she handles things with grace and Pepper gives her little tasks to do, like delivering cups of pens to employees or papers. 

Rhodey gets her (and the brothers) little souvenirs from his time away, and Tony has an absolute ball of a time making them all costumes and taking a million little pictures that are hung up everywhere in the building. 

But perhaps the crowning achievement are the Christmas photos. 

Usually, Stark Industries will take pictures of their employees, put a newsletter out, and wish everyone a happy holiday and all that. 

But then the employees have an entirely different idea. 

It comes from one of Pepper’s assistants after she’s made CEO, Julia. 

“Why not have the bots be the Christmas picture?” she muses, restacking some of the papers Miss Potts had to sign. “They’re always around the office, and they’re the unofficial mascots of the business. I think it’d be fun to see their Christmas hijinks!” 

Pepper smiles. 

“Julia, remind me to add a little extra to the Christmas bonus.” 

-

Rhodey finds the idea to be the best idea anyone has come up with in years. (Although it just gives him an excuse to take more pictures of the bots during the festivities.) 

Dum-E is only too happy to finally be allowed within two feet of tinsel. (Unfortunate incident in 1998.) U is very excited to show off his understanding of symmetry and how to pick out the perfect tree, and Butterfingers just wants Pepper to tie ribbons around her wheels so that she looks “extra-pretty.” 

Stark Industries’ holiday card involves Dum-E and U at either side of the tree, with U gently readjusting one of the many ornaments they’ve had the bots make over the years, and Dum-E is trying to pull off a ribbon from the top of the tree. Butterfingers is at the center, guarding any attempt to unwrap presents, and presenting her bow-filled-wheels. 

Pepper has the picture framed in her office.