#if you can call it that.... its not exactly flattering to him either lmao

[antigonenikk]

an ode to the color red

fandom: masters of the air, band of brothers

pairing: marjorie spencer/ronald speirs, marjorie spencer/gale cleven, gale cleven/john ‘bucky’ egan

warnings: crossover, grooming, child abuse, murder, cheating, daddy issues, smut, period typical homophobia, major character death

summary: “There is love in me the likes of which you've never seen. There is rage in me the likes of which should never escape. If I am not satisfied in the one, I will indulge the other.” -Mary Shelley

"“Call me Daddy.”

Again. He freezes. Eyes wide with desire.

“Say it. Say it.”

She’s going to scream in his face until her skin is just as red as her brain. She is going to destroy him. She wants it like this. Bucky is Gale’s Daddy. And Marge is Bucky’s. And Marge’s is Ron. Like one chain link fence, unending with the weight of its betrayal."

1945

She discovers them by accident. The wedding is still three weeks away. They’ve decided on a blue and white theme. Which…. Marge doesn’t like the color blue but Gale does. And her Father does. And so it’s okay. Really.

In actuality, Marge doesn’t want a big wedding. She wants to elope, like Mary Shelley did with Percy, and go on a tour of the Continent, and write poetry while her husband tries to drown himself on the Mediterranean Coast. But with the war that dream has become an impossibility.

And really, who is Marge kidding. It was always an impossibility. Sometimes she wishes the librarians never gave her such free reign as a child. Then she wouldn’t have been so influenced by the Romantics, Joyce and Shelley and Byron. Maybe then Casper, Wyoming and its barren hills and her high school sweetheart would fill her with love. The type of love she’s supposed to feel for the things that have been so good to her. Because they have. Or. She thought they had.

She met Gale when they were ten years old. Her Father had taken the belt to her hard the night before, and had dragged her along to the race track, where she sat uncomfortably on her hands, her knees crossed ladylike, trying not to wince. Beside her a little boy sat down. Three years older, maybe. He was skinny and underfed and wearing the ugliest suspenders. But he offered to play marbles with her on the grass, and sat with her for hours until their fathers came to get them, roaring drunk and laughing together. No one had ever spent so much time looking after her. After that it was a done deal. She was his creature. Handed over like a piece of worn silverware. There was no Marge. No Gale. Just MargeandGale. If you wanted one, you asked for the other.

At first it was nice. And she liked it when Gale decided on what she should wear, and what she should think, and what she should eat. It was very easy as a little girl to let someone else take the lead. And Gale loved to take the lead. Gale wanted certain things out of her. He did not want her to read her gothic stories. He thought they were morbid. He did not want her to drink, or talk with “loose girls” from school, or climb trees in Old Mr. Jenkin’s farms for apples. He wanted her to be a good person, with firm morals, who never slipped, and was always modest. He kissed her. And he would touch her, as they grew older and she grew into her prettiness. But never anything under the blouse. It was frustrating. She didn’t know what she wanted. She didn’t know how to put it into words. Only that it was wild and it was the color red and it flew from the ancient Oak trees and would not leave her at peace.

Marge wanted to lose her virginity against a gravestone. A feeling that only intensified when her Mother died. Just like Mary Shelley. She wanted to be Mary, have everything she had. Her horrors and small griefs and immense talent. She wanted to lose her virginity on her mother’s gravestone, just like Mary did with Percy. But she was no Mary. She was mediocre. A bad writer. A worse piano player. A passable seamstress. And Gale was no Percy. He had no romantic ambitions, or love of history. He wanted an easy life. And so it was fine. She would finally, in three weeks, after years of waiting and waiting and crying and wringing her hands, she would finally have him inside of her. It would be worth it. She would prove to herself once and for all that she loved him. Him, and not… Well. The point was moot. She wasn’t at Georgia State anymore. The war was over. She was back in her little cage, and she had made peace with what she had to give up, what she wanted to give up. She stopped thinking about it. Stop thinking about it, Marge. The voice that reprimanded her sounded like Gale’s. It always did. Ever since she was ten years old.

But then she found them. They were in the barn, Gale’s barn, the one that had gone empty since his Father’s passing. She found them there, doing unnatural things to each other. Bucky, who she had thought was so handsome and charming when he breezed into town three days ago, was on his knees. His head to Gale’s… she didn’t even know you could do that. No one had told her you could do that. And Gale, with his head tilted back, was letting out little groans. She felt sick. It wasn’t right. She had given up so much. Had given eleven years to this man. She had given up her childhood home. She had taken care of the house while doing her homework after school, staying up all night to make sure her grades were good enough for him. She had sat in those pews for hours every Sunday. Hot and sour with resentment. She watched as he came down his Best Friend’s throat. She didn’t feel like crying. Really. Instead, inside her head, she started to feel a bit funny. Like she wanted to laugh. It was almost like she was Jane Eyre, really. And her evil Mr. Rochester had revealed his hidden secret at last. And then Gale whispered the word “Daddy,” and Marge had to run on silent feet back to the main house, stifling her laughter.

To think she had ever respected this man. Ever took his word for law. The type of man who called another man Daddy…

That night she lay in bed and contemplated her options. Back when Gale shipped off for flight school, when she was Seventeen, he had allowed her to apply for colleges. She had chosen Georgia State. It was in the south, like where Faulkner lived. But it was also in a big city. So she could run around, pretending to be Sonia from Crime and Punishment, doing her hair up in a bun, looking through book stores and writing poetry and drinking whiskey. And she could make friends. Real girlfriends.

______________

1942

Atlanta was hot. And humid. And the girls in her class were nice, but distant. Except of course for Birdie. Birdie wasn’t her real name. They had been assigned roommates at the beginning of term. And Marge had never been so glad of anything in her entire life. Birdie was a Fine Arts major, who desperately wanted to be a painter like Kathe Kollwitz. She had horrific black and white lithographs hung up all over their room, and Marge adored them. The hulking faces, the wide eyed starving children, the grieving mothers. They were incredible. Birdie’s really name, which they never mentioned after first introductions, was Dove. Her eight year old brother had been allowed to name her. A decision the family realized in retrospect was a grave mistake. But she had come out with white blonde hair and blue eyes and looked nothing like her Mother, so she had been handed off to a frightened eight year old boy to do with as he saw fit.

Their pasts, it felt like, were interlocked. Both of them growing up under the thumb of an older man. Except Dove’s brother was only ever half there. His presence was more an absence than anything else. Just like Marge’s parents. She was allowed to run free, reading and painting and lighting off fireworks. But like Marge her brother never let her have any real fun. No boys, no drinking, no dancing unless he was there to supervise. The two of them had pooled together their courage and decided they would make a break for it on their first weekend there, under the close watchful eye of the boarding house’s owner.

Their first stop was to a jazz club. The kind of thing that they would never be allowed to do back home. Best to rip the band-aid of rebellion off fast and with violence. They walked in, and it was like the whole world fell away. It was smoky, and loud. Marge had been to a dinner club once, the night before Gale shipped out. But that was nothing like this. The place was filled to the brim with soldiers of all sorts. Laughing and screaming and making fools of themselves. The two of them stood there for a moment, grabbing at each other, desperately nervous about looking silly. And then Marge felt a tap on her shoulder. And the rest was history.

______________

1945

In between the silverware which she hid under her floorboards, Marge kept his letters. They were all there. Some of them, torn and ashen from when she had half burned them after Gale’s return from the Stalag. She had thought. She had thought Gale was as good as dead. That was her excuse. The type of excuse even she didn’t put much faith in. She never thought he would get out. And then he did. And the silverware, and the looted Nazi flag, and the letters, and the slip with his phone number all went under the floorboards. She pulled out each letter, and set them in front of her in a circle. Ronnie would never call another man Daddy. That she was sure of. And there was no way he would give a damn about fucking her against her Mother’s headstone. God knows when she had brought the idea up to him, after her Mother had first died, he had gotten a hungry look in his eye. The sort of look that made her forget all about the nasty little tricks he liked to play on her. Or the way he got cold and mean and distant when she wanted to talk about her feelings. Or the way he would stare at her without blinking, like a hunter closing in on some sort of helpless prey. Well. Let him. She thought. He kept saying he wanted to steal her away. Kept raising the ante with more and more lavish gifts as he worked his way through Europe, leaving a trail of corpses behind him. Let him prove that he wasn’t all talk after all.

In the dead of the night she dialed his number. It rang once, twice, three times. He picked up.

“Speirs.”

“Ronnie…”

She felt like Catherine maybe, calling Heathcliffe home. Or like Jane Eyre still, returning to Rochester, finding the castle all in ruins. Only she was going to be the one to finish the job of burning it down.

He told her, as she put on the waterworks, that he would be there in two days. They would fix things. Together. Of course she couldn’t marry an invert. Of course she couldn’t be expected to carry the burdens of his sins. Marge didn’t care much about sin. Not in the way she should. Not even a sin like inversion. But the words were soothing excuses. The type that she could force herself this time to believe. She was very good at that. Forcing a belief down her throat until it tasted like the truth. Really, she just wanted Gale dead and fucking gone. It didn’t matter what it took to get there. For a second, she hesitated. Then she calmed her breathing, and listening to the rustling of the trees, and realized there was no other way out but through.

______________

1942

It’s New Year's Eve, and Marge’s Mother is dead. It’s New Year's Eve, and Birdie’s boyfriend is about to ship off. So she’s moping in her room, drawing sketches of dead dogs and crying about the fact that he doesn’t love her enough to marry her. She knows she could tell her friend about the death. And Birdie would drop everything. And they would hold each other and smoke bad reefer and fall asleep in each other’s arms. But she doesn’t want that. She doesn’t want it to be real. To say it out loud…Marge is restless.

Ron is leaving soon. And their little game is coming to a close. Him. Taking her dancing when he’s on liberty at every bar in town, spinning her in his arms until she’s dizzy. Him. Listening as she rambles on about Keats and Byron and how romantic double-suicide must feel, nodding along. Agreeing with her completely. They are of the same mind somehow. Everything she feels about the world, he feels twice as strongly. She tells him she thinks the painting Birdie showed her of St. Thomas poking Jesus’ holy wound is the most beautiful thing in the world. He agrees, and leans forward, and goes on a diatribe about the erotic connotations of penetration, talking about some analyst named Freud. And wouldn’t Marge want to read him? The offer of it. Knowledge freely given is a high unlike anything she has ever experienced.

She opens the book he lends her that night and starts laughing. Two years past due from a library in the Northeast. What a little thief. She tells him that if she got married, she would follow her husband to Siberia, just like Sonia did. Even if he killed an old lady in cold blood? He asked. Especially then. Killing doesn’t bother her. It should. But if it’s done for the right reasons….Killing doesn’t seem to bother him either. The same red that flows in her from the those old Oak trees rests inside of him, bubbling up and over through his ears and eyes. Wrapping them both in string, tied about the middle, unable to escape.

That night, with two Sazeracs between them, he tells her about Carthage, and about Alcibiades, who rode into battle holding only a golden shield with the image of Eros, God of desire, on it. She can’t stand it. Grief and desire fight each other inside her stomach, each one intensifying the other. You’re sick. Gale’s voice says to her. She imagines Ron to block the thought out, naked and broad muscled, holding up a gold shield, bloody and broken by arrows, and squirms in her seat. When she opens her eyes he’s staring at her again, odd and still, like a snake waiting to bite. He lights her cigarette as she tries not to cry. And he talks about what it means to have a true warrior’s spirit. And she begins to understand what it’s like to be understood. Birdie, for all that she loves her, is too sweet to withstand the idea of killing. Relentless violence frightens her in a way it does not frighten Marge.

The game is up though. She knows this as she half listens to him, the smoke making him look hazy. And the late night conversations and the absinthe and the music and the laughter. It’s all gone up in flames. She owes so much to Gale. Her whole life, really. She can’t abandon him now. But, she figures. Ron is going away. And he’s so sure he’s going to die. It won’t hurt to keep writing to him.

Right?

__________

1945

Marge has a plan. Before Ronnie arrives, she wants to have her own fun. She wants to prove to him that he’s nothing. Gale, that is. She realized, last night, after hanging up the phone, that she had loved him. For the gentle curve of his face. For his air of desperation. For the odd sense she always got from him that he was meant to die young and beautiful, leaving her a pretty widow with a big house and haunted memories of her first love. Stupid little girl ideas.

But he had betrayed her. Had betrayed her sacrifice. The destruction she undertook of any sort of real personality she held inside of herself in honor of him, of the sacrifices he took to raise her and put a roof over her head. And so, she was going to prove that even his Daddy could be stolen from him, just in the same way he had stolen her from her own Father. The way she had been given over, like a piece of day old garbage. Again. Gale’s voice. Always in her ear. Red kept growing. It never stopped. Sometimes, she thought. Sometimes killing could be right.

She catches Bucky alone that morning, sitting on the patio, white shirt stretched over his muscled chest. She won’t let him fuck her. But she’s willing to do just about anything else.

She slides up to him, pouring him a lemonade. Putting on her best smile.

“Here you go.”

He looks up to her, smiling with what she now realizes is a smug superiority, mingled with hazy lust. He thinks he’s won. She wants to claw his little blue eyes out.

He takes the drink from her, and swigs it down.

“Thank you kindly, sweetheart.”

“No problem, Daddy.”

He whips his face back up to her. She can see the shock there clear as day. Sad, and lonely, and hunted. He cracks a grin. It’s fake. She’s good at telling a fake grin.

“What?” He croaks out.

She slides into his lap, as easy as pie.

“What?” She parrots back.

He seems confused. Poor baby. She puts her arms around his neck, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

“I don’t think it’s very fair. Do you? That you’re Gale’s Daddy, but not mine.”

She can feel him growing hard underneath her. He reaches up, looking torn, like he might push her to the floor. Like he might rip her clothes off right there and fuck her in the open like an animal.

“Marge. I…”

“I don’t mind. I don’t mind, really.”

She kisses his neck. And imagines he is another dark haired, broad chested man.

“I don’t mind it, but I don’t want to be left out. You understand?”

He groans, grinding himself into her. She straddles him, slipping his hand inside her the front of her dress, until she can feel his large palm cupping the entirety of her breast.

“Do you feel it? My heart?”

He grabs her then, like a dog longing for its master. He grinds up into her, fabric on fabric. It’s the most she’s ever done with a man. And she doesn’t like it. Instead she sinks to her knees, opening the fly of his pants, placing her mouth on him like she saw him do to Gale.

He grabs ahold of her hair, tugging too tight, and fucks into her mouth.

“Jesus…fuck…fucking whore–”

She grabs his balls then, just a touch too hard, hard enough to make him freeze with pain. If she kept squeezing. What then? If she never stopped? But the rage leaves her, or rather, it grows cold. She pulls off of him. Him, her willing captive.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing. Nothing.”

She knows what he thinks about her. Luckily for him it doesn’t matter. She sucks him down again, her jaw aching with pressure. He places his hands back in her hair, hesitant this time. She goes at it for what feels like an hour, until he starts panting hard, choking out,

“I’m gonna–”

She pulls off, and grabs him by the base. She wants something out of him first.

“Please. Marge, please. Sweetheart. I’ll do anything.”

“Call me Daddy.”

Again. He freezes. Eyes wide with desire.

“Say it. Say it.”

She’s going to scream in his face until her skin is just as red as her brain. She is going to destroy him. She wants it like this. Bucky is Gale’s Daddy. And Marge is Bucky’s. And Marge’s is Ron. Like one chain link fence, unending with the weight of its betrayal. Just like in a novel. Some novel… she can’t think straight. She needs to hear it from him or she’ll die.

“Daddy. Daddy, fuck.”

She puts her mouth back on him, and he’s coming hard, his body curling over her head, face scrunched up in agony.

She gets up when he’s done, holding the bitter tang in her mouth, and spits it into his glass of lemonade. He watches her like he’s seen a ghost as she straightens her clothes, fixes her lipstick in the sliding glass door, and heads back inside. Ten hours until Ronnie arrives. She has to run to the hardware store.

______________

1944

My Percy, I’m so sorry. I can’t do it anymore. Gale has been captured by Germans. I can’t stand the thought, even in my head, of being so disloyal to him when he’s this close to death. It was never going to last. Don’t wait for me. I feel lost and alone. The dorm rooms are so empty. I’m afraid sometimes. That I’m a bad person. For the thoughts I have. Something inside of me is broken. Some cog doesn’t turn correctly. The hands of the watch have all stopped moving and I’m stuck in a world I don’t understand, which does not understand me. Please forget about me. Your Mary

______________

1945

He drives up to the house around two in the morning. Marge is in her room, sleeping next to Gale, the same way she has since she was fifteen and her Father and Mother decided it would be best if she moved up to the Cleven’s. After all, his parents had just died, and he was eighteen now, and they would be married soon anyways. She remembers the last time she went to the Casper library was the day before she moved in officially.

She can sense that he’s on the property. She gets up, slowly, and on tip toes walks down the stairs to the front door. He’s waiting there for her. His eyes shadowed in the dark night. Marge has done her part already. She put the sleeping pills in their drinks, crushed and hidden under the tang of gingerale and whiskey. Now they’re both in separate rooms, dead to the world.

“Where is he?”

She takes his hard hand in hers, and leads him back up the stairs. The night is dark and gloomy. She imagines that instead of the boring plains of Casper that it’s the moors of the Scottish Highlands that stretch for three acres in each direction. This kind of house, well, there’s no one here to hear you scream in this kind of house. She knows. She’s done enough screaming in this house to last a lifetime. And no one, until now, had ever come.

He approaches their bed, unmade, and leans over Gale’s sleeping face. She realizes that Ron is seeing him for the first time. She had made sure, before, to never wear any sort of locket with his picture in it. She can’t tell what Ronnie is thinking, but she watches with rapture as he reaches his hands out and drops a pillow over Gale’s face. She had thought…maybe a gun, or…well. This way was better. Less interesting. But better. Easier to explain.

She can tell when Gale wakes up. He starts thrashing. Slowly at first, then like a fish out of water begging for air. The only word banging around her head is “Daddy.” Daddy Daddy Daddy DADDY. As if he hadn’t been her Daddy for years and years. Even when she betrayed him, going out on little dates with Ron, writing him love letters. Even then it was all Gale in the end. Ruler of her heart and her brain. Taking up room he had carved out for himself inside of her. In the end it was always supposed to be the two of them. GaleandMarge. Now. Now she was just going to be Marge. Marge alone. With Ron two steps ahead, cold and hard edged and filled with anger. She feels afraid of the future.

Out of the corner of her eye there’s movement. Quick as anything, Bucky bounds into the room, stumbling over himself, vertigo drawing on the drugs to make him as clumsy as a newborn deer. Marge screams. This wasn’t part of the plan. Ron doesn’t panic. Not even when Bucky reaches out and grabs her by the throat, tossing her into the wardrobe. She lands hard, and is reminded of her own Father, his hulking size, his tempestuous anger. She understands for a brief moment what Gale sees in him.

Then the noise like a firecracker. Bang. And Bucky drops. She looks up from the red. Up and up and up. Ron stands there, pistol in hand, like a God of death. She loves him. She needs him. She is deathly afraid. He turns, returns to the bed, and checks Gale’s pulse. He places the gun in Gale’s hand, wiping it off with a handkerchief. She clings to his back, pressing desperate little kisses along the back of his neck, clinging like a sea urchin.

He holds her close, turning her around, mouth pressing to hers, squeezing her so tight she can’t breath. He doesn’t check the bleeding she can feel at the back of her head from when she knocked into the dresser. That’s okay though.

“You’re not leaving me again. Not again. It’s finished.”

She nods. Where else would she go now?

He takes her hand and leads her down the stairs and into the car and out onto the rough paved roads.

“Where?”

She knows what he means before he even finishes asking.

“Take a left.”

It takes them twenty minutes to get there. The anticipation is killing her. He parks the car, and giddy like a school girl she drags him along, pulling her nightgown over her head. Laughing. This is what freedom feels like. Like fresh air from the pitch black night on your naked breasts.

They reach the gravestone and he’s on her immediately. His hands wander, up and down, grasping her breasts and her naked thighs, wanting to touch every at once, wanting to consume her.

“Daddy…”

She whispers it to him, and something seems to snap. He tosses her down onto the dirt, the back of her head hitting the gravestone. She starts to bleed even more. Red everywhere. She feels behind her and touches the engraved letters of her Mother’s name. Red in the air. He stays clothed, but shucks his wool coat, his tie, places himself above her, knees in the wet dirt, biting at her neck until she cries out in pain. He touches her, but not gently.

“It’s finished. You understand? You’re not getting away from me again. Not even another war. Not even another continent is going to stop me from getting to you.”

The words should scare her, but they don’t. She’s used to being owned. At least Ron is good at it. He keeps his stolen things close to the chest, treating them like a magpie. He guards his nest. He would sooner kill her before he let her touch another man. And he lets her do what she wants. All of that. It makes her love him more than she can stand. Her mind might belong to Gale. It might always belong to him. But her body, her heart, her soul. Those she can give away as she chooses.

He slides into her, and it hurts unlike anything she’s ever felt before. She grabs at the stone behind her, bending her back to get away. But she can’t. The pain and pleasure are mixing. She can feel herself bleeding down into the Earth. She’s finally gotten what she wanted. Finally. A sigh of relief escapes her, fluttering her eyes closed. All around her, inside of her, is him. Warm and dark. From him to her, from the Oak trees that surround them like a canopy. Red flows out of her into the night. She screams out a long, loud laugh. He smiles into her neck, biting even harder. She wants to live the rest of her life just like this.

[crispyjenkins]

fic with ahsoka as Obi-Wans Padawan? Maybe some angsty jangobi? (Used to be together but broke up and now they pine from afar™️)

(i’m devastated that i don’t get to write ahsoka much, especially as obi’s padawan, so that an anon would come into my inbox.... and request jangobi on top of it..... seriously, though, thank you! can’t say i wasn’t inspired by @autumnchild22’s Kenobi Tano AU, but this doesn’t share almost anything with their take of events (ノ*´◡`) i’m flattered y’all thought i could do something of theirs justice lmao

i have written entirely too much backstory for this one, i think my brainstorming ended up longer than the actual fic so like. rip. 

support artists and writers by reblogging, message me for more info if this confuses you!)

  It surprises everyone except Obi-Wan that not only does Jango join the clones on the front lines, but he does so as the ARC troopers’ medic. That the son of the Mand’alor murdered by the Jedi would allow his kid to be apprenticed by a lifetime Council member is already hard enough for the galaxy at large to swallow; believing that the man who had at once been the most feared bounty hunter in the Outer Rim wouldn’t even ask for a command position? Impossible.

  Obi-Wan knows better. Just as Obi-Wan had picked up Soresu because he could not protect his master on Naboo, Jango had learned to put people back together because he could not save his buir on Korda 6. 

  Besides, Obi-Wan thinks Mace is a wonderful match for little Boba, even though he’s joining the Jedi older than even Anakin had been. Knowing Mace was among the Jedi to liberate the spice freighter Jango had been sold to, and that he had continued to check in on Jango for years after he got his armor back, Obi-Wan actually finds it rather silly that others on the Council had thought Jango would trust Boba to anyone else. 

  Which does leave Obi-Wan in quite the predicament, when less than a year after Anakin's knighting, Mace sends him a new padawan in the middle of a campaign. 

  Ahsoka smiles with all canines, and calls Anakin Skyguy, and has to be tricked into wearing more armor because, according to Cody, she is "not to take the General's lack of self-preservation as the status quo, nor as the basis for field safety." Which, rude, Obi-Wan wears plenty of armor when the situation calls for it; he simply doesn't find many situations where plasteel has kept his men or the Jedi from dying horribly.

  Letting Ahsoka gallivant around a battlefield in a tube-top without even a cloak, however, is out of the question, and Obi-Wan thinks Waxer does a brilliant job in sizing down the armor to fit their collective padawan over the next few months. Force, had Anakin really been younger than she when he first started taking him on missions?

  "Master?"

  Obi-Wan blinks, and smiles down at Ahsoka standing next to him, his apprentice looking quite dashing in the orange paint of the 212th. "Sorry, my dear, what were you saying?"

  She shrugs, eyeing him suspiciously. "'Was just asking if we would be working with the ARC troopers on Kiros; Captain Fordo said he would show me how to use a blaster rifle next time they were on the Negotiator."

  The Kaminoans intended for a few ARC troopers to be sent with each battalion, but it had quickly become clear that Jango had not trained them that way. Instead, he had raised and created a strike team so efficient, it would have been a waste to separate them; Obi-Wan knows Jango had hand-picked them from cadets, had searched for a spark in them that the Kaminoans hadn't already snuffed out completely. Jango had been like that once, too.

  "I would be surprised if we didn't," Obi-Wan decides on, turning back to observe the 212th loading into the Negotiator, and he would be, because the ARCs are often deployed with Obi-Wan’s men, have been since the Battle of Kamino. "But I have not heard anything from Master Shaak Ti, nor Captain Fordo as of yet."

  Ahsoka scrunches up her face into a pout, an amusing show of her age that she usually does not allow. "We'll probably get halfway through the mission and they'll just show up."

  Obi-Wan chuckles. “Hm, yes, probably,” he agrees, starting to make his way down to the hangar to join his men with Ahsoka trotting along behind, “but perhaps I can convince Captain Fordo not to surprise us too badly this time.”

-

  When the ARC troopers finally storm the Kadavo Processing Facility with Anakin and the Jedi on their heels, the warden Agruss is already dead.

  The sudden swell of Jedi presence is nearly blinding after a month of helplessness, but Obi-Wan can't tap out, not yet. Rex, satisfied and vindictive and relieved, sways dangerously and automatically reaches out to Obi-Wan to steady himself. 

  That Rex trusts him enough to not even think about rank before asking for help warms Obi-Wan in ways he doesn't yet have the words for — he wraps Rex's arm around his shoulders and takes half his weight happily.

  "Thank you," Obi-Wan finds himself murmuring as he helps Rex towards the doors, and only smiles at the captain's bemused expression. 

  "Whatever for, General?" he asks, even as he looks back over their shoulders across the room, to Agruss impaled to his chair with the electrostaff still sparking. Then he returns Obi-Wan’s smile, shaking his head. "That's not very Jedi-like of you, sir."

  "I'm afraid I haven't felt much a Jedi since Kiros, my dear." Which is perhaps too honest to allow himself before he's had a proper meal and a full night's rest, but if there is anyone who will understand, it is the man that lived it with him. "We could wait up here for Anakin to find us, but it will likely be a while before they can spare him to start looking; do you think you can keep your feet long enough for us to reach the ground floor?"

  Rex snorts and gives a vague wave of his free hand towards the elevators. "Well, I'm certainly not going to wait up here like some damsel, sir, and General Skywalker would kill me if I let you wander around on your own."

  "Well!" Obi-Wan laughs, for the first time in weeks, and hitches Rex up to get a better grip on his waist. "In that case, we really should not keep him waiting."

  They somehow time it perfectly for what the 187th and the 501st to have just finished rounding up the slavers in the courtyard when he and Rex hobble out of a side door of the warden's tower. Lieutenant Law oversees the Togrutas' move to Mace’s flagship Solace, and Obi-Wan easily picks him and Boba out from the crowd, standing at the base of the loading ramp and speaking with the Kiros colony's governor. Anakin is nowhere to be seen, but Obi-Wan doesn't get the chance to keep looking before Kix spots them from his place by the medical frigate; a shout passes over the nearby clones like a wave, until Kix and an ARC trooper break away to (gently) manhandle both him and Rex to the frigate. 

  The 187th's medic, Oro, is already on board seeing to the Togrutas too injured to wait for triage on the Solace, snapping a distracted salute that Obi-Wan quickly waves off as he helps heft Rex onto a hoverbed. He fully intends to duck back out and check in with Mace, though things seem well in hand without him, but the ARC with Kix takes off his helmet and glares, until Obi-Wan meekly shuffles to the next hoverbed over.

  He could never refuse Jango, after all. 

  "You repainted your armor," he says conversationally, as Jango pulls a scanner from the bandoleer around his chest and has Obi-Wan roll up his right sleeve. 

  "'Lost the last set to a sarlacc before our deployment to Kiros," Jango snorts, Concord Dawn accent stronger than any of his clones. "Though it looks like your mission had its fair share of excitement." Running the scanner over the electrical burns on Obi-Wan’s arm, Jango raises an eyebrow at the dried blood on the shoulder of his tunics; Obi-Wan honestly doesn't remember if it's his or not.

  And he can only smile at Jango, because even with a decade and a war between them, the corner of Jango's mouth still twitches when he's stressed. "Well, it certainly wasn't boring, my dear," Obi-Wan says, opening the neck of his tunic enough for Jango to stick him with a hypospray that hopefully won't make him too high. "And I can't say I'm looking forward to what is surely going to be a long dip in the bacta tank."

  He gets a laugh for that, and can't think of the last time they had done more than make eye contact from opposite sides of a ship. Perhaps it had been Kamino, when Taun We had first sent for the Jedi to meet the army created for them. 

  Obi-Wan had rather thought Jango dead until then, when he had disappeared from the galaxy abruptly as if he had never lived in it at all. For a time, Obi-Wan believed he had just gotten cold feet, that finally meeting Anakin made it all a little too personal too quickly, but then even Mace could not get a hold of him and no one had seen a Mandalorian bounty hunter in months.

  Their... conversation, Jango's stilted explanations of his absence and of how little he actually knew about the purpose for the clones he helped create, left far too much unsaid, but then Obi-Wan had been sent to Geonosis and, well. It's been nearly two years now, and Obi-Wan isn't sure if he's even seen Jango without his helmet since then. 

  His eyes flick over Obi-Wan’s face, the left side of his lips twitching as if knowing exactly what Obi-Wan is thinking — and he might not put it past him. 

  "Where are Anakin and Ahsoka?" Obi-Wan hears himself ask, when the silence grows heavy with those unsaid words. And he really would like to check in with his padawan, he can't imagine her last month has been a picnic either.

  Jango sticks him with another stim before answering, "Mace sent Skywalker to make sure no slave is missed, and no slaver isn't arrested. As for your new foundling..." That little smile comes back, as Jango nods out the back of the frigate to where someone is cutting a line through the clones guarding their new prisoners. 

  "Oh dear," Obi-Wan mumbles, barely having time to brace himself before Ahsoka is launching herself at him, and all he can think is how relieved he is to see her out of her slave disguise. Jango steps cleanly out of the way to let Ahsoka smother herself in Obi-Wan’s chest, though it doesn’t stop him from starting to prep bacta patches to tide him over until they can get to the Negotiator’s medbay.

  “Hello, little one,” Obi-Wan murmurs, carefully loosening the tight net of his shields for the first time since Zygerria and letting Ahsoka’s presence flood his mind. 

  “It’s good to see you, Master ‘Nobi,” she says into his tunics, and her voice does not waver at all.

  He manages a chuckle, though it does not hold nearly as well as Ahsoka’s, as he feels himself finally relax. Anakin, of course, senses the both of them immediately and prods at their minds, but neither Obi-Wan nor his padawan acknowledge him. “I take it the Queen is dead?”

  Ahsoka sighs and pulls back enough to nod. “Count Dooku was there, Skyguy barely got us all out.”

  “That was a week ago,” Jango adds, not looking up from the datapad he’s logging Obi-Wan’s injuries into. “Even with the Queen giving us the location of the Processing Facility, we had to wait for the 187th to catch up.”

  Running his palm from the top of her head down her hind lek, Ahsoka melts back against him with a Togruta churr he rarely has the pleasure of hearing from her. “Hm, and I imagine Boba was thrilled to work with the ARC troopers.”

  Jango snorts, because they both know Boba is thirteen and his rebellious stage where he wants nothing to do with his father for fear of losing his independence. “Originally, the 104th was the closest battalion, but were held up in their own campaign. ‘Honestly didn’t think we could keep Skywalker from rushing in anyways.”

  And Obi-Wan has to wince at that, because no matter what he does, he can’t seem to find a way to teach Anakin about attachment in words he understands; truthfully, Obi-Wan wouldn’t have had him knighted until he had at least attempted to master that part of his mind, but, well, the War had different opinions.

  “I’m actually just surprised he didn’t try to fight Dooku,” Ahsoka admits, finally releasing Obi-Wan only to hop up on the hoverbed next to him. Jango immediately pulls Obi-Wan’s bare arm back to himself to start slapping the bacta patches over the worst of his burns. “Master Windu had a talk with him, though, I think it was good for him.”

  “I’d like to see that!” Jango barks, only half sarcastically: he knows better than most, the sorts of things Mace Windu can talk someone out of, and if it worked for one ex-slave, why shouldn’t it work on another?

  Ah, perhaps that shared history should not have slipped Obi-Wan’s mind, not here with thousands of freed slaves needing aid for injuries Jango is intimately familiar with.

  “And are you alright?” he asks before he can talk himself out of it, as Jango is cutting his sleeve further back. His brow ticks back up, clearly bewildered by what Obi-Wan could be referring to, but it’s Ahsoka that leans around Obi-Wan to sniff triumphantly up at Jango.

  “I told you he still likes you,” she says, and Jango’s hand freezes on Obi-Wan’s wrist.

  Obi-Wan sighs. “Ahsoka.”

  But instead of denying that he might have actually had such a conversation with Obi-Wan’s padawan, Jango coughs on a laugh. “So you did, edee. To be fair, I did not think that was the issue.”

  Ahsoka rolls her eyes, leaning back into Obi-Wan’s side as he automatically raises his arm to accommodate her. “He thinks he lost his chance, Master ‘Nobi,” she tells him. “Even Cody thinks he’s full of banthashit.”

  Where Obi-Wan feels a little shell-shocked by the turn in conversation, Jango simply keeps that tiny smile — even if it looks bittersweet and self-deprecating now. “Your foundling has spent the last week talking me in circles about this, I almost think she’s as stubborn as you.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment, I think,” Obi-Wan returns, sarcasm an automatic, subconscious response. 

  “I wouldn’t need to talk you in circles if you two just talked to each other.”

  Shaking his head in bemusement, Obi-Wan gently fixes Ahsoka’s slika beads to lay properly around her montrals. “I’m afraid there’s quite a lot of history there, little one; most of which I’m sure Jango did not actually share with you.”

  She wrinkles her nose. “No, he refuses to tell me anything except that you met on a mission. And that he saved your ass from Jabba the Hutt.”

  Obi-Wan snaps his eyes to Jango, who looks absolutely anywhere but at him. “Is that how you remember it going, my dear?”

  “Could we do this later?”

  “Because if I recall correctly, and I do, this is not the first time you’ve lost your armor to a sarlacc.”

  Jango looks to the ceiling for patience. 

-

Mando'a: buir — “parent”, gender neutral  Mand’alor — “Sole ruler”, contended ruler of Mandalore. edee — “teeth”, “jaws”, used here as an affectionate name for Ahsoka. because she teeth.

[sombreboy]

Wedding night⇢kth x jjk

⇢18+ ⇢pairing: Taehyung x Jungkook ⇢genre: Smut, fluff, mxm ⇢word count: 12.7k ⇢warnings: profanity which is mostly Tae cursing like a sailor, dirtytalk, drinking, dom!kth, sub!jjk, koo sucks tae off in a taxi lmao, slight cockwarming in koo's little throat?, more oral cuz Koo is cockhungry as hell, DADDY KINK, Tae eats Koo's ass like a fuckin champ, light choking ig but its with luv, anal (as always, this is fictional, use lube- koo loves when tae destroys his ass)

A/N: Serves as an ‘after story’ within the Love Maze series AU, however can also be read on it’s own.

“Damn, Tae.” Hoseok whistled, messing with the younger’s formal, silk bow tie whilst Taehyung examined his reflection through the mirror; set out to dismiss his hyung’s side comments, no matter how uplifting.

He was nervous— as he was expected to be. It was Taehyung’s wedding day, and although he’d been dying of excitement days prior, now that he stood in his assigned dressing room; his heart was racing . Of course he was thrilled to be marrying Jungkook--he wouldn’t have proposed to the man if he wasn’t 100% sure. But.. still . It was an important milestone in their life--Taehyung wanted it to be perfect.

“Jungkook’s jaw is going to hit the floor!” Jin’s elated voice joined in from his spot on the couch, where he sipped on a martini; legs crossed as if he was relaxing by the beach, living his best life.

“I can just imagine the look on his face.” Namjoon playfully squeezed Tae’s tense shoulders, grinning at the anxious man through the full-length mirror. Taehyung simply shrugged him off, grimacing as if Joon’s touch stung. “Hyungs.. can you be quiet? I’m trying to think.”

Namjoon stepped away from Tae, hands raised in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. I just can’t believe it— that you guys are getting married, that is.”

At that, an awkward smile tugged at Taehyung’s lips. He couldn’t believe it either; it felt like a dream. Tae didn’t regret getting down on one knee at all, he wanted Jungkook for the rest of his life. Some might think they’d been taking it too fast— or are in a hurry to secure their future; but this was what felt right to the both of them. They’d been dating for five years now, making Taehyung twenty-three; a young adult whose life was only beginning— supposedly. But that was the furthest thing from the truth. No matter how cheesy it sounded, Tae’s life began when he met Kook, his husband-to-be. He wanted to be married to the guy, to be able to call him his husband. They’d even started looking into adoption agencies, knowing the process could take up to a year’s time. Fuck what people thought of their decisions, they were theirs to assume the consequences of.

“Shit, I just hope it all goes well..”

“It will, Tae. This day will go down in the book of your lives.” Namjoon reassured.

Jin snickered, hiccuping, “You’re so poetic, Joon. Trust me, this day is going to slap.”

Meanwhile in Jungkook’s dressing room..

“You nervous? Need a cig?” One of Jungkook’s coworkers, Jia, offered; already pulling out a pack of cigarettes from her purse.

“Uhm.. I don’t think that’s a good idea..” Jisoo frowned, eyeing the other woman with uncertainty. “Just take deep breaths if you’re nervous, Jungkookie.”

“Ooor you could just smoke one.”

“For the last time—“

“You girls are so different, oh my fucking god.” Yoongi nonchalantly grumbled, arms crossed over his chest. Jia rolled her eyes, tucking the cigarettes back to where she found them.

“You guys are being annoying,” Jimin sighed, setting aside his beer before waltzing closer to Jungkook, studying the younger’s appearance with a pleased look on his face.

“Tae’s going to love you. You look good!”

''No smoking, I'm literally about to kiss Taehyung in front of everyone.'' Jungkook murmured, eyes hyper fixated on himself in the mirror. Honestly, a cigarette, or ten would be exactly what he needed right about fucking now. He was so nervous, his breathing was shallow-- his hands trembling. He took a good look at himself... He's always looked the same in his own eyes, ever unchanging. But today was different. Jungkook was different. Suddenly, he could see all the changes he's made since high school-- all the changes he'd been through with, and without Taehyung. The ever growing muscles finally at their peak, the suit flattering to his shape from his widened shoulders to his slim waist. His tattoos snaking out of the sleeve to his hands and by his neck. And his always way-too-long hair that he refuses to keep too short only because Taehyung had once said 'I like it long.'.. Now, that must've been years ago, but it stuck with the younger.

"I really look good?" Jungkook glanced at his friends through the mirror.

“Yes!” They all answered in unison— “Decent.”

“Yoongi, shush!” Jisoo playfully pushed the newly-dyed blonde’s shoulder, assuring Jungkook of how handsome he looked.

“Kidding, kid. You look okay.” Yoongi shrugged, successfully dodging Jimin’s incoming slap to his chest.

“Don’t pretend like I didn’t catch you trying to hold back your tears moments before, Min.” Jia smirked, crossing her tattooed arms over her chest; smile widening at the man’s taken-aback reaction.

“Wasn’t crying. You don’t even know me, anyways.” Yoongi huffed, now more hyper aware of his feelings, hence he snapped his head in the opposite direction of his peers.

“Never said you were crying, now did I?”

“Yo, both of you, stop bickering. If you didn’t hate each other so much, I’d think you’re secretly in love with one another.” Jimin didn’t bother looking at the pair, instead focusing his attention on the man of the night— well, one of the men. He was extremely happy for them; they deserved their happy ending after all the shit they went through. And it was a lot..

“You look hot, spicy.” Knowing it’d tickle Kook’s amusement, Jimin giggled whilst he verbally teased him, hoping to ease his mind even for a bit.

“Damn, Yoongi’s crying might rub off on me.”

“I wasn’t crying for fucks sake!”

~

Taehyung was left alone for some time; left to gather his thoughts once the suit was properly fitted, black hair slicked back— a couple strands falling down to his eyes. Still, he felt far from put together.. Reaching for his phone, Tae tapped on Jungkook’s profile, thumbs moving before he could think of the right words to say.

To: Kook Hey ;)) I know it’s bad luck or whatever to see each other before the ceremony, so I settled for texting I’m a little nervous, I’ve had to pee like 10 times now But fuck I’m so eager to make you my husband, bet you look gorgeous as always

Jungkooks scrunched smile and giggle grew, his friends surely knew how to hype him up; even though the nervosity was at its peak. "Thanks guys." He reached for his phone on the table as soon as it chimed, tucking his fringe behind his ear as he tapped the message. It didn't matter how long the men had been together, Tae always put a dumb grin on Kooks face with his interesting mashup of rambles and emojis. He quickly tapped back on the screen, he'd become a pretty good texter these days compared to his younger days.

To: TaeTae I'm also nervous T_T the girls (and Jimin) have been hyping me up for the past twenty minutes...I almost considered smoking a pack but I wanted to taste good lol. x) And I'm pretty sure Yoongi cried! feel so awkward in a suit, but they say I look, and I quote, "spicy" :ooo Can't wait to see you though, I can't imagine how fucking pretty you'll look in a suit.. I'll see you soon ^^ <3

Jungkook cringed, this might be the longest text he's ever sent in his entire life. But it was fun, and hopefully it would help ease the elders' nerves.

"Alright, it's time!" Jimin clapped his hands. "We will head to the audience, you got this Kook!"

Fuck, it was actually happening. They were getting married.

Taehyung comfortably sank back in his spot on the couch, chuckling at Jungkook’s use of emojis; it was fuckin’ cute. His boy was a dork, another reason Tae wanted to marry him.. The younger’s plan unknowingly worked, Taehyung felt more at peace as he typed back his reply; fingers moving quickly as he knew it was almost time to go. Now that he thought about it.. it was a waste, considering Kook probably wouldn’t see it until after the ceremony, but it did calm him down, so Tae said to hell with it.

To: Kook You always taste good tho..love everything you have to offer, you know I’m not picky And fuuuuckkk I bet you’re rocking the suit rn baby, don’t feel awkward

“Tae! Hurry.” Hoseok’s head peeked in from the other side, urging him to wrap it up— whatever had him grinning from ear to ear. Throwing his phone to the side, Taehyung looked at his reflection one last time, messing with Namjoon’s work on his tie. When jogging out of the room, Tae cursed to himself— his speech!  “Shit, never mind.” The elder was so stressed out that he hadn’t noticed the slip of paper was tightly held in his hand; it was nerve-wracking. Taehyung was the one supposed to wait at the altar; after having been decided by a silly game of ‘rock, paper, scissors’. The one thing they took their utmost time deciding on was the name, however.

Jeon. Taehyung wanted to take Jungkook’s surname. Something about wanting a fresh, fresh start. His boyfriend was his everything, and his father was nothing compared to Kook. Tae felt as if change was needed, and what better way than to refer to himself as a Jeon? It drew butterflies in his stomach..

“Fuck— sorry, I’m here now.” The elder harshly whispered to the marriage officiant, nearly tripping over a random cord on the way. Of course. Fuck, his mouth was dry. Taehyung’s chest felt heavy with excitement, squeezing tightly onto the piece of paper that had his vows written inside; just waiting to be heard by Jungkook— and everyone else, but those words were meant for the younger, truly. Shit, Tae just wanted to see him..

~

Jungkook was trembling behind the closed doors, continuously having to be stopped by Jisoo from running his hand through his hair.

"Don't mess your hair up, kookie. We spent hours on taming it!" She chuckled quietly, fixing the tie on his neck. He was a nervous wreck, his anxiety causing his stomach to do somersaults. He wants to throw up.

"I've never been this nervous in my life." Kook bounced on the ball of his foot, taking deep breaths. He was gonna get through this. He wanted this. He just wanted to see Taehyung.

"Shh, it's time. Go get that husband, Kookie!" Jisoo patted his back, grabbing the basket of flowers that she'd share with her daughter, Yuna. She was 5 years old now, and having them as the flower girls was nothing but an obvious choice. The doors slowly opened, music playing and everyone on their seats stood up, turning to look at Jungkook. It was a mix of eyes, all showing their own version of joy, whether it be with tears in their eyes or a large smile. But the only face Jungkook could see was the one staring back at him from the altar.

"Fuck..." Jungkook whispered under his breath, his feet finally moving on their own, eyes tunnel visioned on Taehyung. His heart didn't calm down, instead raced even faster, pounding heavily in his chest. But it wasn't out of nervosity, but of excitement.

“Oh, wow..” Taehyung was whipped— in awe, too. Jungkook mirrored a literal angel sent from above, and the elder couldn’t seem to look away; not for one second. The younger one looked stunning.. “Gorgeous..” Tae’s teeth clamped down on his lower lip, preventing it from trembling due to the emotions that’d taken over his body in the form of shivers. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry..

Taehyung couldn’t believe it, they were only moments away from— “Uncle Tae! I have no more flowers..!” A fit of muffled laughter erupted from the small crowd, causing a flustered Jisoo to attempt to quiet down her daughter, murmuring shh’s.

“But mama I need more flowers!” Taehyung laughed, mouthing to Jisoo that all was well; Yuna was too cute. Tae loved the little girl to pieces. Once she was done throwing her mini tantrum— thanks to Namjoon, who quickly swept Yuna off her little feet; Tae’s big grin gradually died down now that Jungkook’s figure had gotten closer. Instead, he licked over his lips, feeling the warm tears resurface once again.

“Hurry up, I wanna hold your hands..” The needy whisper came out weaker than Taehyung had intended, voice breaking whilst he made grabby-hands towards Jungkook, wanting nothing more than to stand before the love of his life. When both men finally faced one another, the elder had the strong urge to kiss him; but he held back. The time hadn’t come yet..

“Wow.. you look so pretty, baby,” is what he settled for, nervously toying with Kook’s fingers, glassy eyes shrinking the more his smile widened.

Jungkook chewed the inside of his cheek, the only invisible release of his anxious state that he could do at the moment. Taehyung looked fucking otherwordly, it blew his mind that this man... was his. Forever.

''You too.... So handsome.'' He whispered back, doe eyes sparkling from the lights around them, enhanced by the layer of tears glazing over his dark irises.  Don't cry, don't cry, don't fucking-- well, fuck, he's crying. Jungkook was always a crybaby. ''Shit...'' Kook didn't even register the warmth trickling down his cheeks until now, blinking rapidly as he looked at the ceiling to prevent the stinging in his eyes. His tattooed hands immediately intertwined with Taehyung's, squeezing to ensure that this was indeed their reality. And so, they were both reminded of this reality as the officiant's voice echoed in the venue.

"Welcome family, friends and loved ones. We are gathered today to celebrate the union of,'' The officiant paused to look at the younger. ''Jeon Jungkook and,'' And over at the elder. ''Kim Taehyung."

Jungkook's breath hitched, squeezing his husband to be's hands tighter.

"Your marriage will be a lifelong promise to love, respect, trust and honor each other through the good, the bad and the unexpected. This union represents your commitment to support one another as individual beings but share your joys, sorrows, and dreams as one." The speech continued, the officiant rambled about marriage, about love, about everything-- and Jungkook couldn't do anything but silently admire Taehyung, just as the elder did back. Their expression said it all, it always did. Ever since they were younger, the look in their eyes never changed as they found each other's gaze.

''Jeon Jungkook, do you take Kim Taehyung to be your husband?''

Jungkook swallowed tightly, it felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest at any given moment. The way he fucking loved this man was unheard of.

"I do." His voice was clear, and for that he was thankful-- even if his cheeks were damp with tears.

The officiant turned to look at the elder.

"Kim Taehyung, do you take Jeon Jungkook to be your husband?"

Taehyung didn’t need another second to think it through; he’s had five years to make up his mind—“Fuck, o-of course! I mean, I do.” He squeezed the younger’s trembling hands, twiddling with the delicate piece of metal hugging Kook's ring finger; grinning freely past the layer of tears that washed over his chocolate eyes.

“Forasmuch as Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook have consented together in holy matrimony, and have pledged their love and loyalty to each other, and have declared the same by the joining and the giving of rings, by the power vested in me, and as witnessed by friends and family, I now pronounce you married. You may kiss the groom.” The series of claps and exceptionally loud cheers (drunk Jin) from their friends barely reached Taehyung’s ears. The elder practically threw himself in Jungkook’s arms, tightly wrapping his own around the younger’s neck as Tae kissed the hell out of him, taking his sweet time with his husband. Fuck.. felt disorienting— yet extremely fitting to think that; to be able to refer to Jungkook as his husband.

“I love you so much.” Taehyung’s faint whisper only reached four ears, his and Kook’s. Their friends lingered in the beautifully lit background, cooing; some snapping hundreds of pictures (once again, drunk Jin) of the pair. “And yeah, they were right. You do look spicy..” The elder discreetly raised a brow, having yet to part ways from Jungkook’s warmth. “But tonight, you’ll look even better naked.” The elder’s hands tauntingly slid down to Kook’s waist, where he gripped at his soft edges. Taehyung’s dim smirk diminished into yet another kiss, this time needier..

“Uh, guys? You gonna stop kissing now..?” Hoseok gave them a verbal poke, “We’re still here, you know.”

Jia cheerfully butted in, “Let’s get this party started, I wanna get wasted.”

Jungkook wiped his dry tears off his cheeks when theiy kiss is broken, wide smile mixed with his flustered blush. Tae always managed to sneak in the comments that'd make his insides stir from the mere anticipation of what's to come. Their wedding night. Somehow, that thought made it even more special. And even if they've done practically everything together, Koo was feeling a bit nervous... He wanted it to be even more special. He was thankful for the fact that a bit of liquid courage would surely help with his nerves. Honestly, tipsy sex later on didn't sound that bad...

"Don't say such things yet, or I won't be able to wait until tonight.." Jungkook whispered back, burying his face in Tae's neck momentarily until his blush would subside.

Photos were taken, from Tae popping the champagne bottle for their first drink together as a married couple, arms hooked and cheesy for the cameras, Jungkook cutting their cake and feeding it to Taehyung, with all hyungs in the back cheering like dumbasses, to Yuna smearing cream on Jungkook's nose as he held her. It was the perfect gathering for everyone that loved them, and for the ones they loved. The venue had moved into the party event of the night, Kook's suit jacket came off to only wear the pants and white dress shirt underneath, sleeves rolled up to his biceps, hair slightly messy but still put together. Drinks now in hand, hyungs, friends and the married couple exchanged laughs, memories and embarrassing stories.

''Remember when Taehyungie aaalways would give Jungkookie the marshmallows during breakfast? Ah, so wholesome. And here they are, fucking maaarrried!" Jin laughed, raising his glass for another drink.

''And when they disappeared during that party...'' Yoongi added quietly, his cheeks red from the alcohol. ''Then they came back from upstairs looking all newly fucked.''

Namjoon choked on his drink at the memory, remembering literally finding them naked in the room. But, that was something he'd take to the grave, however giving the couple a look of 'if they only knew.'

Jungkook blushed, tilting his head back to gulp down one of his drinks. ''My favorite is... McDonalds.'' he scrunched his nose at the memory, glancing over at Tae. ''Remember?''

Taehyung sat his half-empty glass of wine down. The slender fingers that once wrapped around its crystal base were now on Jungkook’s thigh, caressing over the smoother fabric of the younger’s dress pants— a different feel compared to Kook’s usual, rugged style. “How could I forget..” Tae chuckled, “That’s the place where you asked me out.”

“I knew it!” Jin’s loud voice startled little Yuna, who was busy stuffing her face with a slice of cake whilst the rest of the adults conversed about different topics that didn’t intrigue her five-year-old mind. Immediately, she hid her face in Namjoon’s chest, small fists clinging onto her father’s suit. “Remember that day in the lunchroom? When both of you were being total assholes and wouldn’t tell us who asked who out? I was right.”

Hoseok’s eyes lit up, as if the memories had just registered in his brain— “I remember! Always thought it was Tae, though.”

Taehyung’s cheeky grin evolved into a laugh, comfortably leaning his body against his husband’s, “Nope. It was him, it was right after the party, too. I remember it clearly— my ass was so sore, and the stars were really pretty.. also, the milkshakes. At that moment, he just.. asked if I wanted to be his boyfriend, so I said yes.”

Jimin’s plushy lips jutted outwards into a soft pout, cooing.

“I didn’t know you back then, but that does sound cute as hell.” Jia looked over at Yoongi, seeing as he was already looking back at her. The sensual tension between those two was pungent, anyone could tell. “This man right here cried fat tears during your vows.” Yoongi’s fond expression shifted into a frown, huffing as he poured himself another drink.

“Not true, Jia. You sure love to over-exaggerate things, don’t you?”

Yoongi definitely cried. Everyone knew.

“Whatever, I’m gonna go... to the bathroom, drank too much..” The last bit was mumbled. With a quick look towards Jia’s direction, Yoongi raised his brows— she got the hint.

“Gonna go check my dress, shit’s too tight.”

And just like that, both disappeared from the table.

Hoseok snickered, “Remind you of some people?” Taehyung smirked, bumping shoulders with Kook.

“They’re definitely hooking up. Yoongi had a tent under those pants.”

“Daddy? What’s ‘hooking up’?” It was Jisoo’s turn to glare at the man at her side, “Jin!”

"That's uhhhh..... oh look Yuna, cake!" Namjoon averted the distraction with sugary sweets, which seemed to work by the way the little child suddenly forgot about any mention of 'hookups', his dimpled smile directed to Jisoo. Jungkook leaned onto Taehyung, his fond eyes travelling across the group. The fact they all managed to still be friends was a blessing. The night went on, everyone getting more intoxicated, Yoongi and Jina still gone-- probably left to continue somewhere else.. and Jisoo and Namjoon ended up leaving because little Yuna had a bedtime to attend. The rest of the group stayed around until late hours, cheering and drinking on to celebrate the newlyweds. But all nights come to an end, everyone standing outside the building to bid their farewell.

"Time for you guys to consummate the marriage huhhhh?" Jin winked, one arm clinging onto Hoseok's shoulder to keep him up straight.

"Itll be like any other night." Hoseok snickered, hissing when Jimin kicked his shin.

"Congrats on the marriage, guys." Jimin cheered, blowing kisses in the air to the sweet couple. "I'm very happy for you guys. Ahh.. I want to marry someday too."

"Maybe Mino will marry you." Jungkook giggled, his cheeks red from the alcohol heating him up, clinging onto Taehyung's arm like a child. He surely was bigger, but in a moment like this he seemed just so small and endearing. "See you guys later."

The couple waited for their cab, as neither were in a condition to drive, anxious to get home to their first night as Mr. And Mr. Jeon.

“Someone’s had a bit too many drinks..” Taehyung drunkenly chuckled, wrapping one arm around Jungkook’s loose shoulders to pull him in closer, out stretching his neck; in the lookout for their expected cab. Once the car finally pulled up, Tae slumped down on the backseat, throwing his head back with a tired groan. It’s been a long, exciting day; almost all of the elder’s energy was spent entertaining their guests. “Fuck, ‘m tired, husband..” Like a kid, Taehyung turned his head to gaze into the younger’s eyes, cheeky grin tugging at his lips. “Dunno if I’m gonna be able to fuck you dumb tonight.” Oh, Tae definitely could. Now that he was in a hazier mindset, messing with Jungkook seemed that much more amusing.. The elder might‘ve been tired; but he never got tired of Kook’s body, and tonight was no exception. “Shit, I was really gonna take my time with you and everything.. I was gonna make love to you, hard.” He forced out a defeated sigh, diverting his attention to the various lights outside.

Jungkook turned to look at Taehyung with his wide doe eyes, hands fiddling in his lap. He pouted. "But Taeeee...." he leaned in closer, hand reaching to tug at his husband's collar for attention. He really turned into such a baby when he drank with Taehyung. And maybe, just maybe it also had to do with the fact that they were horny newlyweds, he's been teased all day. "Tired? noo.. babe, we can wake you up. I'll wake youu uuup!"

“God, you’re so fucking cute..” Taehyung scooted closer to his tipsy husband, Tae’s distant laughter now coming across as raspier than before; the slight vibrations in his broad shoulders brushing against the side of Jungkook’s arm. “You’ll wake me up, huh..” Something else was already aroused awake, and the elder couldn’t bare to keep it a secret from Kook for much longer.. “I have an idea— of how you can wake me up, that is.” Taehyung pressed a small kiss onto the younger’s cheek, alert eyes trained upfront. “Wanna know what it is? Shit, why am I even asking, of course you do..” He pulled away from Jungkook’s ear, drunken-breath clashing against the latter’s clammy skin. “Get a feel, baby.” Tae cautiously led the younger’s hand to his bulge, ragged breath hitching in his throat. He was extra sensitive, and it was hard to not make much noise.. The driver would start to get suspicious. “Ah shit.. move your hand.” With a quick peek upfront, Taehyung undid his zipper, man-spreading for Jungkook. Luckily the back was dark enough, but there was always a chance of them getting caught..

Jungkook's eyes sparkled in the dark, biting down on his lower lip to prevent the needy whimper that threatened to escape his throat. He probably wouldn't admit it so openly, but there was something about the risk of getting caught that turned him on even more than if it would've been a simple wait for them to get home. Taehyung surely knew that though. Kook was his little exhibitionist. And the latter was ever grateful that the elder indulged in his deviant desires. "Can't believe I get to call you my husband." Jungkook whispered, voice more steady this time around. One hand still palming Tae’s bulge over his pants, his other hand snaked underneath the waistband for a direct contact, sighing out a shaky breath at the silky, soft yet hard length that throbbed in his hand. Kook has seen, tasted and touched Taehyung's cock what felt like a million times before, but there was no way he could ever get enough of it. Slowly, he stroked Taehyung's rigid length with lazy movements, relishing in the response he drew out from his husband in the form of twitchy hips, the struggle to remain silent.

“Fuck..” Taehyung’s tongue swiped over his lips, temporarily wetting the dry patches. He harshly tugged at his lower lip with his teeth, and the corner of his mouth twitched once as he held back a deep, thick growl. “My fuckin’ husband; you like this, don’t you? My sneaky baby.. jerking me off in the backseat of a stranger’s car. Dirty little thing.” The elder gently rocked his hips into Kook’s hand, looking down at the way the front of his pants would bulge outwards with every stroke. “So fucking good. You imagining it’s your ass wrapping around me, baby boy? Hm? Fuckin’ bet you wanna jump my bones; you wanna feel this big cock inside of you— fuuck..” Taehyung threw his head back, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Mmhm... shit, when you talk like that..." Jungkook rubbed his thighs together, uncomfortably adjusting his erection. "Drives me mad. My little ass is throbbing, clenching just thinking about your fat cock filling it up." Koo whispered into the elders ear, squeezing Taes turgid length a little harder, his hand getting more and more slick with every stroke, focusing his attention on the swollen mushroom tip than the rest of it, rubbing his thumb underneath the crease of the head. "I love you. Do you feel a bit more awake now?" He breathed out coyly, nuzzling his nose into Taehyung's neck. For one it could look like an innocent cuddle, little drunk koo just seeking leverage. But the innocence was nowhere to be found in either of the boys.

Taehyung’s nails sank deep into the fabric of his pants, feeling the strong muscles under his thigh shift into a clenched position. The way Jungkook’s thumb kneaded the spot under the reddened tip; accentuating his vigor— it had Tae losing it. Kook knew how much that gesture drove him insane. He also knew that it turned Taehyung on to the max; if the latter wasn’t in such a trance, he would’ve had to punish Jungkook for it. How dare he tease him in a situation like this one?— knowing Tae wouldn’t be able to fuck his brains out.. “Y-yeah.. more awake. Keep rubbing under there..” The elder grew harder in Kook’s hand, the rocking of his hips gaining more momentum. “O-oh.. fuuck.”

“Everything okay back there?”

Shit— shit! As if it could possibly hide the commotion going on inside of his pants, Taehyung’s hand instinctively covered over his bulge; looking like a wide-eyed idiot. He quickly turned to look at Jungkook, silently pleading with him to answer for the both of them. His voice would betray him, Tae was sure of it. Fuck, he just wanted to arrive at their expensive suite already and fuck his husband..

"All good, siiir! Just a little too much to drink!" Jungkook chirped back, keeping his eyes fixed on Taehyung's wide ones. Mischief was evident on Jungkook's expression, he was fucking thriving off of the risky situation, the embarrassment that could possibly dawn upon them. But Kook was confident the chance of actually being caught was more unlikely. "Don't worry so much, you're way too obvious..." Jungkook whispered, although he did enjoy the tension it provided. "I wonder if I could just suck you off right here?" He added lowly, eyes lowering to watch his hand resume it's work, squeezing and rubbing at the swollen head. He licked his lips, nodding to himself as he leaned down, his raven hair barely visible in the dark anyway. "Just gonna take a little nap til we arrive." He cooed out loud, quietly tugging down Tae's pants to release his length from the strain of fabrics. He sighed, the sound coming out as a quiet moan that only the elder could hear before directly taking the tip into his mouth, no teasing-- just as much as he could possibly take down his throat, tongue brushing against the velvety skin. He remains still, his gag reflex well trained throughout their years together, allowing the elder to just feel the wet warmth of Jungkook's fleshy mouth, like a good cock warming prep. Koo knew this would drive him mad, riled up to the max to get what he wanted in their bedroom later on; a desperate, rough, punishing fuck.

“Kook— wha.. a-ah..” Taehyung gasped; he didn’t expect Jungkook to actually go through with it, but now that the younger’s mouth lingered frozen around his heated cock, Tae found that to be even more surprising. Jungkook was really testing him.. “Fuck, babe quit playing and suck my dick..” His fingers wove themselves in through his husband’s long hair, tugging at its roots.  Taehyung stared down at where Kook’s warmth engulfed his most sensitive body part, desperately trying to make out the younger’s swollen lips in the darkness.  Still as cautious as ever, Tae’s eyes continuously flickered between the focused driver and his husband, slightly pushing downwards on Jungkook’s head. “Baby, fuck.. so warm, shit.” Taehyung felt as if he’d be able to stay like this forever.. “You’re taking in all of it like a champ, Jesus..”

As if Jungkook was cock-warming him, Tae threw his head back, eyes closed while he visibly relaxed. It was tempting to fuck the younger’s mouth, but after a long; eventful day, this was what Taehyung needed..

“So newlyweds, huh? How does it feel?”

The elder’s eyes immediately awakened, worried that the man would be able to see Jungkook through the rear view mirror. He pushed down on Kook’s nape, feeling the younger’s drool slither down his naked length. “Oh, uh.. it— it feels great.” Taehyung bit down on his rosy lip, slowly thrusting his hips upwards. Fuck, Kook was going to be the death of him.

Jungkook placed his hand on Tae's thigh, smoothing his hand in slow circles as a way of reassurance that he's fine. But of course, Tae knew the younger could take it all. He took a deep breath through his nose, swallowing tightly around the elders swollen length. The fleshy walls of his throat constricted, the light quiet sound of the younger gasping for more air more prominent. But Kooks hand remained soothing on Tae’s thigh. It was fine. He loved this. And, the fact that Taehyung was having a conversation with the driver only made it so much more entertaining.

"That is amazing. You two make a very handsome couple. I can hear the sighs of women from here when they see the two of you together." The driver chuckled lightly.

The moan scratching at the back of Taehyung’s throat converted itself into an awkward chuckle; his posture stiff as he relished in the comforting touch of Jungkook’s hand. “Y-yeah,” another forced laughter, “He’s very good.. very handsome. Lucky to have him— o-oh shit.”  Tae felt his husband’s throat close in around him, and the elder insisted Kook could make out the saltiness of his precum. Shit, he was practically squeezing it out of him at this point, Jungkook was so fucking tight..

“Everything alright?” Of course the driver heard.

“Yeah— yeah, ‘m good.”

Taehyung’s tongue swiped over his lips, his fingers having yet to part from the younger’s hair. “Wanna feel you even more..” Subtly, Tae’s hips fucked into his mouth, the tip of his cock repeatedly prodding against the back of Jungkook’s throat. “Oh god..” His body’s rhythm was steady, but anything was better than nothing. The elder stared down at him, admiring the way the boy’s plush lips would occasionally graze the skin of his pelvis. Jungkook’s gag reflex had gotten better, and Taehyung was big— it came as an initial surprise for both. Now, they were used to it. While his dick stayed snug inside of Kook's mouth, the driver decided it’d be a good idea to continue asking them questions.

“Any plans for the future?”

“Uh, buy a house, raise a baby— things like that.” Normally Tae wouldn’t have answered so quickly, but he was desperate for the man to stop asking them questions..

“That’s amazing. Babies are a handful, I have two of them myself, so I wish you guys the best of luck!”

“T-thanks. We’ll need it.”

“How does your husband feel about that? Excited to raise a kid?”

“Yeah, babe. How do you feel about raising a baby with me?” If Jungkook could tease him, so could he. “Come on, wake up from your nap honey. It’s rude..”

Jungkook clawed at Taehyung's thigh for having the guts to force the younger to interrupt what he'd started. He really didn't want to separate his throat from Tae's cock. However, he did, slowly feeling the rigid length brush against his fleshy mouth as he pulled back to sit up straight, combing his fingers through his hair with one hand and wiping his teary eyes with the other. "Yeah,'' His voice came out hoarse. He padded his eyes with the back of his hand, instead acting as if he's so touched by the very thought of children. "Yeah I am very excited, can't wait to raise a child with him." Kook glanced over at the elder as he said so, he genuinely meant every word that rolled off his tongue. However, right now, there was a hint of his mischievous annoyance present. He wanted to tease more. Instead, he opted for simply... Not going back down, leaning back in his seat as he placed his hands in his lap, covering the throbbing bulge he's rocking of his own. Fuck, this car ride felt like it was taking forever...

"How sweet.'' The driver chirped as he finally pulled over by their street.

"Well, here we are. It was a pleasure talking to the two of you, I wish you the best of luck with your future. And congratulations on the marriage."

After seconds of just.. waiting for Jungkook to dive back down, Taehyung passed as an actual idiot. He expectantly stared at his husband, dick stiff as a pole— but without anyone to take proper care of it. When it became obvious that Kook wasn’t planning on continuing, Taehyung scoffed, tucking himself back in with a sour expression. This man..

Once the sight of the massive hotel came into view, Tae was eager to get out of there. He rummaged in his back pocket for his wallet before paying the driver, thanking him for the thoughtful wishes regarding their marriage. However, part of him felt guilty that the man remained clueless about what took place in the backseats, so Taehyung gave him a big tip. It didn’t completely get rid of his gnawing guilt, but it definitely helped..

“Thanks. Drive safe.” The elder waved at the man, an innocent smile on display until the car disappeared from their sight.

At that moment, Taehyung grasped onto Jungkook’s bicep, bringing him closer. “What the fuck was that?” He growled into the younger’s ear, “You didn’t even suck me off, that’s low, babe.” His bigger hand snuck down to Kook’s ass, giving it a firm squeeze. “You teased me a lot back there, I don’t wanna hear a word from you when I do the same. Now come on, let’s get checked in, then we’ll see if I’m still up for it..”

Being manhandled in this manner had Jungkook speechless, the one and only sound he dared to allow slipping past his suck-swollen lips was a breathy whimper. Now, it was no secret that the younger was physically the one at an advantage if he wanted to be-- but the thing is, he crumbled so easily with every word hissing through Taehyung's teeth. Jungkook nodded, keeping his gaze low on the ground as his lips curled up in a small smile, legs trembling with excitement. This little game, it was the perfect thrill. Would he get teased until he physically couldn't take it anymore? Would he be left tied up on the bed for hours upon hours? Or would the elder simlpy be too impatient and just fuck him into a dumb drooling mess?

Not knowing what to anticipate drove the younger mad.

Once they made it to the door of their premium suite, he patiently waited next to his husband who had the keycard to the door, eyes occasionally daring to look at how Tae practically oozed with frustration-- like a cloud of power that followed him all the way from the car. Kook licked his lips at the sight, a soft shaky breath all that left him as he shifted his weight on his feet, keeping his head low still. He wanted to feel small.

Taehyung turned on the doorknob, stepping into the neat space that’d soon turn into a mess. The elder was annoyed, and Jungkook knew how he got whenever something was on his mind, especially something like this.. “What are you doing still standing there? Get in.” No trace of fondness remained put in Taehyung’s naturally lower voice. Tonight, he’d put Jungkook through the merciless teasing that the younger showed him in the car; and Tae was going to enjoy every minute of it. After closing the door behind them, the elder loosened his bowtie, throwing it to the corner where his suit jacket laid. He turned around to face Jungkook, forcing the latter to stare into his eyes by redirecting his chin upwards.

He really looked too cute..

“Why are you so shy? You look so innocent..” Taehyung clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, withdrawing his hand from Kook’s chin. “But you’re far from innocent, and I think you know why.”

With a bratty smile, Tae made himself comfortable on the edge of the bed, unbuttoning the first few buttons of his top. “Why should I fuck you, hm? You’ve been nothing but a pain in the ass.” He made zero efforts to meet Jungkook’s eyes, playing uninterested.

Jungkook's doe eyes widened as he stepped closer to the elder until he stood in front of him, knees almost touching. He tried to meet Tae's eyes, but they kept avoiding him like the plague. And that alone ignited the needy fires within the younger-- he craved the attention even more when he was deprived of it. "Please, Taehyung." Jungkook's voice was low, a just audible enough whine. He dropped to his knees in front of Tae, still desperately attempting to feel his husband's gaze on him. "I'll be good, so good for you." He added, his hands already unbuttoning his own shirt after loosening his tie; eager to free himself from the restraints of the fabrics. Eager to feel Taehyung's clammy skin against his own at some point. Kook threw his shirt to the side, leaving his tie loose around his neck purposefully. He leaned in, placing his tattooed hands on Taehyung's thighs daringly as his sparkly gaze seeked attention. "I'll do anything to make up for it." He licked his lips as he said so, genuine in every sense of his words. "Mr. Jeon." He quirked a brow, liking how his name sounded when addressed to the elder, giving him a new level of authority that had Kook's cock throb beneath his dress pants.

Mr. Jeon..

Taehyung’s fingers tightly curled around Jungkook’s loose tie, roughly pulling the younger’s body upwards, unbothered to be the one who put in the effort to make their gazes clash. In this moment, Jungkook was his little doll; Tae got to handle him as he pleased. “Anything?” Their noses were practically touching whilst the elder’s hot breath fanned Kook’s flustered face, his eyes dead-set on the younger’s relaxed lips. “Call me that again.” Taehyung not only wanted to hear, but he wanted to see. The elder’s stare fell heavy on Jungkook’s lips, anticipating seeing the way they moved as Kook referred to him by such a commanding name. “Fuck.. say it.”

Jungkook licked his plushy lips deliberately slow before he inhaled deeply. "Mr. Jeon... Please, use me." He said with a low voice, his dark eyes still seeking for any attention. But knowing he wouldn't get it until the elder chose to, he settled for observing every little reaction he was able to draw out of him. He knew Taehyung didn't go unaffected, whether he acted like it or not. "Jeon Taehyung." He repeated the full name, this time it came out more like a strained sigh due to the tightness of the tie around his neck, eyes fluttering shut when he felt Tae's hand tug at the fabric controlling his airways.

Fuck, Taehyung couldn’t take it any longer; he had to have Jungkook. It was annoying— how the younger more often than not got away with whatever the hell he wanted, simply because of Taehyung’s undying hunger for the man.. But, who said the teasing had to end there? Surely not the elder. It was more fun that way.. Tae’s bigger hand unlatched itself from Jungkook’s tie, instead snaking around to the latter’s nape, sinking his fingers into the rigid skin before forcing their lips together. The kiss was anything but gentle, instead it reflected off of how Taehyung was feeling at the moment; needy, controlling— rough. “You’re gonna regret messing with me..” The elder mumbled in between their breathless kisses, the grip on Jungkook’s nape now more prominent, and so was the bulge in his tight pants. “You’re gonna listen to Mr. Jeon’s every word, got it?” Taehyung’s thumb caressed over the smooth skin of Kook’s cheek, feeling the warmth radiating from it. “Now undress me, but undo my zipper with your teeth. Hold eye contact throughout all of it, can you do that, puppy?” Not waiting for a clear answer, Tae comfortably leaned back on his arms, waiting for Jungkook to get started.

A spark of excitement swirled in Jungkook's dark gaze, eager to please and serve his husband. It was so fucking hot to see him this way, a nonchalant expression oozing of power, leaned back to showcase just exactly Jungkook was yet to unwrap for himself to see. Kook was confident, thrilled; and impatient. The mix had his hands trembling as he firstly finished the job of unbuttoning every single button on Tae's dress shirt, letting it freely fall to his sides to expose the firm yet soft torso that the younger had seen and admired countless times; yet every single time it felt new. "Yes, sir." Jungkook dragged his upper teeth across his lower lip as he lowered himself back on his knees between Taehyung's legs, eyes never wavering from his husbands. He clicked the initial button of the elders pants open before inching down to clasp the zipper between his bunny like teeth. Kook still stared up at the other male, desperate for any praise at all; and it showed in his eyes. And he was ready to work for it, there was no challenge the younger male wouldn't attempt to conquer. With every tooth of the zipper unraveling, the sound triggered his cock to pulse beneath his still intact pants. He both relished and cursed the slow pace of this, he craved to feel full, yet the journey there was just as exciting. When finished, he kept his teeth clamped on the little metal piece on the zipper, not daring to let go until ordered to do so.

“Have I ever told you how fuckin’ pretty you look when you’re obedient?” Taehyung purposely stayed back to watch Jungkook’s patient expression, knowing he could tell the younger to let go of his zipper whenever he wanted. “Now’s when you decide to be good, huh.. shit, so gorgeous..” The elder leaned forward, a shit-eating smirk tugging at his slightly swollen lips. “Let go.” Right as Kook was beginning to pull away, Taehyung’s palm pressed flat against his throat, gripping at Jungkook’s neck with his slender fingers. Although his grip was too strong to wriggle out of, Tae made sure it didn’t hurt Kook.. badly. “If you were so confident in the car, how ‘bout you prove to me just how deep you can go, hm?” Taehyung’s thumb pressed down harder at the receptive spot on the side of Jungkook’s neck, loving the way his husband seemed taken-aback by his actions. “Suck my cock, no games this time.” Growing impatient, the elder let go of his hold around Jungkook’s skin, expecting him to follow through; just like he always would.

"Yes." Jungkook gasped his word out the moment Taehyung withdrew from his throat, his throbbing erection aching so badly it almost hurt. He wanted to please so badly, he was thriving as he would remain feeling inferior throughout. He placed his hands firmly on Taehyung's thighs, using only his mouth to pick up the tip into his mouth, leaning forward to take the entirety of his husband's rigid cock down his throat, tongue brushing against the soft skin as he did so. Taking a deep breath through his nose, he wasted no time in hollowing his cheeks, sucking with an evident hunger as he began to slowly bob his head up and down. Every time his plush lips pressed against the elders pelvis, he'd feel his throat fight the girth in the form of constrictions, his eyes beginning to gather a layer of tears. He looked up at Taehyung as he withdrew, keeping the tip in his mouth as he swirled his wide tongue around it, only for him to move back down until the bulbous head prodded the back of his throat. Jungkook resumed his ministrations for as long as Taehyung would desire, the wet, loud sounds of the younger sucking with greed striking in the quiet room.

The muscles underneath Taehyung’s throat bobbed with every gulp he took, jaw slack as he watched Jungkook get to work; in a trance from the way his husband’s tongue circled around his head. Ever since they were younger, Kook always knew how to please him during a blowjob. The younger knew what he was doing, and it benefited them both. Those times they’d sneak out of the classroom only for Jungkook to get down on his knees— that feeling of infinite bliss and exhilaration never left. And now here they were, married, yet acting like the horny teenage boys they once were when they properly met... That’s how Taehyung felt with Jungkook; young.

“Shit.. you’re gonna fucking make me burst..” The elder threw his head back, the raspiness of his moans now accompanying the lewd sounds in the room. “You love my cock so much.. fuuck yeah, that’s it, good boy.” Taehyung relished in the warmth a bit longer, cheeks flushed with color. He could endure it a little more..

Jungkook pressed his thighs together at the sounds he managed to draw out of his husband, his muffled moans still caught in his throat. He took it upon himself to ease the pulsating ache between his legs by reaching down with one hand, unbuttoning his tight pants to seek some relief. Never once did he waver the rhythm he'd built up, skillfully sucking and licking Taehyung's turgid length as if he was worshipping the man himself. Kook snaked his hand beneath his own waistband, palming himself through his underwear to find even the slightest of friction, his teary eyes forcing a tear down his cheek to join the mess of drool and precum on his lips and chin.

Similar to a favorite movie of his, Taehyung found the sight below him so foreseeable yet so enticing. No matter how many times the elder’s seen Jungkook’s drool glisten down his skin, each time felt like the first. Kook was working so hard for him, maybe it was about time he did the same.. “Shit.. that’s enough.” With his hands on the younger’s shoulders, Taehyung withdrew his cock from Jungkook’s mouth, instantly missing the warmth it once provided. He gazed down at the thick layer of drool on his dick, and then back at Kook’s face— he looked beautiful like this, with rosy cheeks and watery eyes.. But Tae knew something else had to be done. “Strip for me, wanna see all of you..”

Jungkook gasps for air, not bothering to wipe his glistening chin at all as he gets up on his feet. His cheeks are flushed when he sees his own erection aching beneath the fabrics of his pants. His already exposed torso clammy from working hard on Tae's cock, messy hair and the loose tie gives him a sure look of a good, submissive boy. Now all that's missing is to show off just how badly he needs Taehyung. "Am I doing well?" Jungkook asks, fishing for more praise. His tattooed, long fingers curl around his pants as he pulls them down along with his underwear, allowing the fabrics to pool at his feet before stepping out of them. Now fully in the nude (except for the little cute tie around his neck), he takes a step to stand right in front of his husband, hands limp on his sides as he awaits what's next, cock twitching in anticipation.

“You’re doing amazing, baby..” Taehyung’s hooded eyes skimmed down Kook’s exposed, awkward stance; inhaling every inch of the younger’s skin as if it was smoke to his lungs. Jungkook was drop dead gorgeous— even in such a vulnerable state, he managed to make the elder’s breath hitch. Taehyung was sure that feeling would never, ever go away.. He never wanted it to. It kept things exhilarating between the two; it gave Taehyung a rush like never before. “You look so fucking cute with your tie.” A low chuckle emitted from deep down the elder’s chest whilst his feet moved on his own, breaking the small distance between their bodies. One of his hands landed on the side of Jungkook’s waist, and his pointer finger hooked itself underneath the flimsy fabric around Kook’s neck, drawing him in closer. Their cocks gently grazed over one another, the small contact having Taehyung bite down on his lower lip— his husband’s lower lip, anything to be more than close. “You turn quiet real quick, don’t you?” The elder breathed out against Jungkook’s neck, running the tip of his nose along the responsive skin. “Hope you’re less shy when I pound into you, wanna hear you.” In that instant, Taehyung harshly drove the younger’s back against the wall, caging his relatively larger build in between his own. No matter how much stronger Jungkook was; or how tough he appeared in people’s eyes, Tae knew the younger man would always be his baby boy.

Those doe eyes made Taehyung want to corrupt him again and again.

“So fuckin’ pretty, goddamn.” The elder’s mouth latched on to his husband’s sweet spot, sucking on the soft skin as if it was the last thing he’d do. Both of his bigger hands held Jungkook’s wrists above his head, stopping him from wriggling too much. “Gonna give you so many hickeys, want everyone to know what we came here to do.. and that’s fucking mark my territory.”

"Ah~ yes, I'm yours...." Jungkook's rosy lips parted in a needy whimper, muscles in his arms and torso flexing as he lightly tugged against the restraints that were Taehyung's hands-- however not hard enough to actually set himself free. He could.. but he did.not.want.to.. He was thriving to be Taehyung's good boy. His regular day to day life always consisted of being the big guy, the strong guy. The one in charge. And ever since they were teenagers, the elder was the only person who could reduce him into a whiny, needy boy that just wanted to be manhandled, praised, and properly and utterly fucked. Jungkook's breathy moans were growing heavy, eyes screwing shut as he deliberately focused on the way Tae's lips sucked on his skin-- and trying his best to ignore the borderline painful ache between his legs. He could practically feel the precum drool from the swollen head of his tip. But it was so much easier said than done, and the younger's well repeated words throughout the years slipped past his lips in a quiet whine. "More, please.."

Taehyung’s lips attached themselves to parts of the untainted skin of Kook’s neck, down to his collarbones and shoulders, where he stamped a bundle of kisses— ranging from big to small— along every shuddering dip and arch. “Such a good boy for me, I love you.” With one last look into Jungkook’s eyes, Tae spun the younger around on his feet, hands grabbing at his small waist. “Just wanna devour you whole..” The elder’s breath clashed against the other’s nape, feeling the delicate hairs of Jungkook’s skin brush against his nose in a feather-like touch. Everything Kook had to offer was intoxicating.. Taehyung nuzzled his face in the crook of his husband’s collarbone, one of his hands snaking around to where Jungkook’s aroused cock bobbed. His long fingers didn’t wait to wrap themselves around the thick girth, accumulating the precum at the tip, and smothering it down to the rest of his length.

“Don’t cum yet, alright~?” The elder pressed himself harder onto Kook’s ass, pushing the latter’s chest against the wall. His rock-hard dick stayed snug in between his husband’s cheeks, taunting him with painfully slow thrusts. “Fuck..” Taehyung flicked his wrist a couple of times, then proceeded to carefully stroke Jungkook’s wet cock— from the base to the tip. “Your moans are so fucking pretty, I wanna hear them all the time.”

"Oh, fuck... Tae.." Jungkook pressed his cheek against the wall, heavy huffs and moans slipping past his lips. His cock twitched happily in the elder's hand, finally receiving the attention he so badly craved. But it quickly turned out to be not enough. Not enough at all. "You're so good to me-- god.." kooks voice tore into a higher pitched moan when the elders cock pressed against his plump ass, arching his back to seek more, to silently beg for his husband to fuck him already. But he knew better than that, Tae wouldn't give in so easily; even if they both knew and desired just that. "You drive me crazy, I love you so mu-uch!" He tensed his leg muscles, desperately trying to hold back how fast his orgasm wanted to creep up on him, whining louder with every stroke provided by the other male. Kook imagined their first time in that dirty locker room, this position way too familiar-- yet so different. Tae back then compared to now was a completely different man; and yet parts remained exactly the same. Just like Taehyung, Jungkook felt younger with his husband, like they're still a pair of horny teenagers. Now, they're just older; and much better at what they're doing. "Please... baby, I need more." Kook glanced over his shoulder, his dark doe eyes pleading to the elder like a puppy. "Stretch my tight ass for you... I want your fat cock in me.."

Koo paused for a moment, grinding his hips back against Tae's cock-- "Daddy..."

“You know me too well, baby..” Taehyung growled into Jungkook’s ear, grunts muffled against the side of Kook’s neck as his hips gained momentum; feeling the delicate skin of his cock glide between Jungkook’s ass, continuously rubbing against his husband’s clenched entrance. “Oh fuck, daddy’s gonna make you feel so good.” His hand’s dragging motion faltered, “Well, he always does, doesn’t he?” Taehyung’s teeth tugged at the back of Kook’s tie, forcefully ungluing the younger’s tinted cheek from the wall, choking him in the slightest. With the piece of fabric securely clamped down in his mouth, Tae tauntingly tilted his head to the side, wearing a sly smile upon properly making out Jungkook’s shift in blissful expressions. He looked too fucking good.. The elder’s hooded glance was casted downwards, admiring how the tip of his cock would pop out with every upward drag, standing tall in between Kook’s cheeks. “Hngh..” Taehyung tugged harder with his teeth, nails sinking deep into the flesh of Jungkook’s hips.

"Y-yeah, always-- ahn...." Jungkook shamelessly rolls his hips against his husband's cock, legs quaking to keep himself up, hands firmly pressed against the wall to keep some kind of leverage as he gasps from the pressure against his neck as he's tugged back. "Please, now-- need more..haah..." He breathes out in a choked whisper, licking his lips until they shine as if they were glazed with gloss. His fingers curled against the wall, not caring that it'd cause marks if he kept going. Nothing else mattered, only the boys-- reckless and messy, just like they've always been. Now that Jungkook was deprived of the friction of Taehyung's hand on his cock, all he could think about was to feel his clenching hole being stretched and filled to the brim, his agile hips continuously grinding back deliciously against the elder, showing him what he's missing out on. "Just shove it in me, I'm dying without it." He pleaded once more, screwing his eyes shut as he prayed for the tease to soon be over with-- he swore he'd combust at any moment if he couldn't have it.

Taehyung’s rigid mouth let go of Jungkook’s tie, letting the damp fabric resume to its spot on the younger’s nape. Now that he was able to, Tae trailed open-mouthed kisses along Kook’s flexed shoulder blades, the fluttering of his eyelashes grazing the man’s soft skin. “Just a little longer, babe. You’re a big boy, you can handle it.” However, Taehyung himself didn’t know just how much longer he could take it either.. He was good at teasing, but it didn’t mean he didn’t want to rearrange Jungkook’s guts right then and there. The elder kept it up for a few extra seconds, continuing to grind against his husband’s ass; his dick sandwiched in between each rosy cheek. But those seconds felt like hours, and that’s when Tae called it  off. “Not gonna shove it in you now, at least wait until we’re on the bed, will ya?” His chuckle caused his shoulders to vibrate, and his cock to twitch. “It’s our first time as husbands, let’s be a little classier~”

With one last squeeze to Jungkook’s ass, Tae led them both to the spacious bed, too high on the moment to part their hungry kisses. His hand securely clasped the back of his husband’s neck, deepening their kiss until the back of their shins met the wooden edge of the bed. Taehyung lightly pushed on Kook’s chest, urging him to lay on his back whilst he discarded his dress shirt that the younger had previously unbuttoned, lower lip clasped in between his teeth. Kicking off the pants and boxers pooling at his ankles, Tae proudly showed off his naked physique before situating himself above Jungkook, towering over the younger man. “So gorgeous.. so pretty.. so fuckable.” Despite their difference in size, Taehyung was used to manhandling Koo in the bedroom, so it came naturally. The elder liked to joke that carrying his buff husband around was the reason he’d been gaining extra muscle recently.. “Gonna stretch you out first, but with my tongue.. spread those legs wide for daddy, he wants a taste of you.”

Jungkook's cheeks flushed in pink at the praise and commands hurled his way, nodding as he did as told. Shuffling up further on the bed with his husband on top, he reached behind his knees to spread his legs wide for Taehyung, exposing everything he had to physically offer like a good boy. He just looked so small like this, it was pitiful yet endearing. "With your tongue...?" Kook meekly replied, leaning his head back comfortably against the soft duvet, the blush on his face spreading fast across his features. He felt a bit embarrassed, but... He wanted it. Taehyung was skilled in many aspects, and using his tongue was definitely one of them. "Taste me, please daddy...."

“Gladly, baby.” Taehyung could pinpoint Jungkook’s obvious embarrassment from a mile away, the redness in his cheeks drawing all the more attention to his body’s natural reaction. The elder could relate, but he also knew that at the end, Koo’s initial uneasiness would soon turn into pure lust; Taehyung knew how it went— all too well, in fact. “You look so pretty all spread out for me, yeah you do.. fuuck.” Tae pressed his hands against the backside of Jungkook’s muscular thighs, leaning downwards to meet his feast in the eyes. “So pink ‘n untouched.. but not for long.” The elder’s wet tongue lapped over his husband’s clenched entrance once, giving each of them a small sample of what was to come. “So sweet, too..” Tae’s chaste kisses were sensual around the rim, his fingernails digging deep into Kook’s flesh whilst he steadied himself on his knees.

A drawn out moan passed through Jungkook's parted lips, pressing his head back against the bed. His hands withdrew from his thighs to allow the elder to take over the grip of his legs, his own hands vulnerably laying above his head. His hips jerked lightly at the sensation, his tight entrance twitching from the welcoming warmth teasing around it. "Mmh, yeah.. Feels good.." Koo announced his pleasure in small, breathy whines, indulging in the way his husband is taking care of him, worshiping his body like it was his last meal in this life. Jungkook glanced down at Taehyung, and the sight had his cock throbbing. The elders dark fringe dangled over his eyes, strong arms holding Kook's legs up, the lower part of his face hiding to please and tease with one of Jungkook's most sensitive parts. "Fuck, you're so hot.." Koo was already losing any sense of embarrassment, all he could feel was the overwhelming lust drowning him-- tunnel visioned on his husband, and his husband only.

“Fuck, I know,” Tae outwardly agreed like the cocky bastard he was, allowing his mouth to linger close to the milky skin of Jungkook’s thighs, ghosting over the smooth flesh with his plush lips. “Gonna finger you first, I know how much you love that.” The elder’s tongue slightly peeked out of the corner of his lips, switching his utmost attention to Koo’s hole; and as if an indescribable pull had taken over his senses, Taehyung’s middle finger sank in without a warning. The man was still leaning down, too focused on the way Jungkook swallowed his slender digit to look away. Soon enough, Tae added in another finger.. and another; and like a small child in a candy store, he was amazed by how much his husband could endure. His eyes were shining with anticipation, mouth watering from the simple sight.. The scissoring motions inside of Kook came to a halt, and as soon as he pulled out his dripping digits, Taehyung’s lean tongue snuck its way past the gaping opening. It was a new feeling.. he’d eaten out plenty of girls before in his High School days, but having his tongue deep inside of Koo felt new— not necessarily a bad kind of new. Shit, he was so warm and.. pleasant. Taehyung’s eyes were fluttered shut, relishing in the way he flicked his tongue in the compact space, scolding himself for not doing this sooner.

"Yeah, yea- oh god..." Jungkook's moans from the familiar fingers broke into a gasp at the new sensation of Taehyung's warm, wet, firm tongue smoothing his insides, his thighs trembling in Tae's hands. "Holy shit..." Koo almost chuckles in disbelief at the fact they hadn't done this the other way sooner, placing his hand over his face to wipe his clammy skin, cheeks flushed red. "I see why you like this so much now, wow..." Jungkook ran his fingers through his hair, slightly dry from the residue of the product, taking deep breaths as he closed his eyes, allowing himself to truly focus on the wet muscle exploring his most intimate parts. "Feels so good.."

The constant shower of praise and moans of approval amped up Taehyung’s slowly diminishing confidence. He didn’t know if he was doing any good— until Koo decided to open his mouth. He gripped tighter onto his husband’s inner thighs, knuckles turning white from his secure handle. The elder’s skilled tongue lapped at every reachable inch of Jungkook’s insides, humming in pure delight at the new taste he’s grown fond of. It didn’t take long, once and Taehyung was hooked.. “Oh wow, you taste so fucking good,” Tae murmured under his heavy breath once he’d pulled away for a quick second, gathering extra spit in his mouth before aiming at Kook’s swollen hole. He placed kitten licks on the entrance, lips slightly puckered as he roughly fucked his tongue in and out of Jungkook, one hand sneaking up to toy with the younger’s warm balls.

Jungkook's hands instinctively reached for Taehyung, combing his fingers through his dark curls as his moans had gradually grown breathier and louder. "Uh huh-- shit, you're so good at that.." Jungkook mindlessly spits his verbal reassurance of the pleasure he's put through, his words coming out as high pitched whines. Kooks hips squirm for more, greedy and needy in every sense of the word. He was an absolute puddle for his husband, always have been, always will be. "I love you, I fucking love you... please, need your cock so bad, noooow..."

The elder withdrew his mouth from Jungkook’s ass, warm spit glistening around his blood-fueled lips and the tip of his nose, making Taehyung look all the more fucked as he gazed down at Kook; making a show out of the way he slipped his tongue back in his mouth, moaning deeply whilst he savored the rest of his husband. Didn’t taste overly sweet, and that Taehyung liked.. “Wanna eat you out everyday now..” Koo’s pink entrance was slick from Tae’s previous work, the rim spread wide enough for him to poke the head of his cock through— “Shit..” Taehyung’s tip was immersed in between Jungkook’s flesh, and soon enough was the rest of his long, thick length. The younger always takes him in so well.. The first time 18-year-old Tae slipped inside of Kook might’ve been a lot to take in, but they’ve both gotten used to each other’s bodies throughout the years they’ve been together.

“Fuck, you good?” Taehyung’s veiny hand guided his dick to a more comfortable position, his long fringe falling down to his eyes. “I love you so fucking much, Koo, fuck.” The elder threw his husband’s legs over his broad shoulders, resting his muscular arms beside Jungkook’s head before beginning to grind into his man, starting at a slow pace. It was their honeymoon.. it had to be somewhat romantic. “I can’t believe you’re my husband— hngh..” Tae grunted out loud, “I-I can’t wait to have a family with you, yeah.. fuck, wanna grow old with you ‘n do everything t-together— so tight..”

"Mhm, yes." Jungkook nodded, his calloused fingers grasping around Taehyung's lower arms tightly, blunt nails digging into the skin for his own sake, he needed to claw at something to release the overwhelming warmth that spread throughout his body. "So good, I love you-- shit, I love being your husband." Koo's eyebrows were tightly knit together as he stared up at Tae with his doe eyes, his blurry vision glazed over with every single emotion he could possess at a moment like this.

Lust, love, relief.

He was just as whipped for the man on top of him as he'd always been, for years already-- and he had no doubt that this was his forever after.

Jungkook bit back a raspy moan when Tae's cock finally started to tease at his prostate, eyes fluttering in bliss, struggling to keep his gaze focused any longer, simply drowning in how amazing it felt to feel his husband's hips grind into him with the utmost affection. It was fantastic, but knowing the younger man-- slow only pleased him for so long... "A-ah, your cock is so big... I love it, fuck, more... Please, Mr. Jeon.." He purred, deliberately clenching his warm flesh around the elder's turgid length, the hint of mischief sparkling in the younger's eyes.

Tae burrowed his face in the crook of Jungkook’s neck, their bodies’ shine mingling with one another whilst Taehyung sweetly kissed the pale skin, tasting the slight saltiness of his husband’s sweat on his lips. He licked over them, allowing them to hang open as grunts and groans made themselves known in the room. The elder wasn’t shy when it came to the noises he made in the bedroom; he wanted to let Koo know just how good he was making him feel.. His husband held a tight grip on his cock, causing it to twitch in anticipation as Tae gradually thrusted deeper into him. “Love it when you call me that— hmph..!” His balls smacked harder against the younger’s ass, squelching sounds taking over the invisible bubble they’ve made for themselves. “Fuck..” It came out as a hoarse whisper, and one of Taehyung’s hands snuck between their bodies to grasp onto Jungkook’s cock, giving the stiff skin a few delicious strokes. “So good..”

"Aa-aah*..!" Jungkook snapped his head from one side to the other, pressing his flushed cheek against the bed. His body trembled like a leaf at the added sensation, a drawn out moan in relief, finally touched where it ached the most. He felt like he'd been a really good boy then and there to finally earn this as a reward. "I f-feel good? fuck--" His voice was strained and wobbly, every thrust choking his words. "Tell me, tell me please... How good I make you feel."

Koo knew already, the sounds his husband was making gave him no doubt about the pleasure his body brought upon the elder. But Jungkook loved to verbally hear it. Almost like back when Taehyung had gone overseas, and all they had were FaceTime. Even though they could easily look at each other through their screens-- the verbal aspect of it was Kook's favorite. And it stuck with him since, hearing that deep voice his husband possessed tell him the most filthy of things, and the highest of praise; it turned Jungkook on.

Taehyung’s head tilted upwards, the fringe no longer as smooth. Instead the dark hairs stuck together by a thin layer of sweat on his creased forehead, giving him little access to truly look into Jungkook’s doe eyes whilst he grumbled out his next words; “Your insides are always so fucking tight, no matter how many times I push my cock in you— hngh.. it never fails to drive me crazy..” The elder snapped faster into Koo, having yet to withdraw his hand from Jungkook’s dick whilst he thrusted into him at an animalistic pace, feeling the head of his cock prod at his husband’s abused prostate. “You’re so warm, too.. the warmest I’ve felt in a really long fuckin’ time. Fuck.. so soft. You make me feel so good.” Still jerking Koo off, Tae’s mouth wrapped around one of the boy’s nipples, swirling his wet tongue around the bud before lightly nibbling on it. He quickly flicked the awakened nip with his tongue, humming into the skin.

"Fuck yes, oh my good, Taehyung..." Jungkook's whiny moans turned into sobs, his abs flexing as they tightened in rapture, the pool of heat quickly ramping up in his lower abdomen. The continous prodding of his sensitive prostate drove him mad. "I'm gonna c-cum, I'm clo-ose, ahhn..." His eyes were filled with desperation, sparkling with the layer of tears and admiration swirling within them. He was completely transfixed on his husband, absolutely whipped for the attention his body is given in so many various ways at the moment. Taehyung's cock, his mouth, his hand. It was overwhelming as hell. Jungkook could easily feel his own cock drool with precum, his thick length swelling to full hardness as if it was about to explode at any moment. All he needed was just-- one. small. push.

Taehyung’s release was also knocking at his door, begging to be spread across Jungkook’s fleshy insides as every thrust of his cock dragged Tae’s energy down bit by bit. “G-gonna cum inside, so close..” Eager to make Koo break down along with him, Taehyung’s grip on his husband’s dick tightened, feeling the stickiness of the younger’s precum cover his fidgeting fingers; easing the slide of his sore hand. “I love you, I love you— a-ahh.. fuuck I-I’m cumming so much.” Spurts of warm white shot into Jungkook, dribbling out of the latter’s entrance as it was too much to hold in despite his cock staying still in its place.

“Wow.. so, does this officially make us husbands now?” The elder’s voice was raspy as he teased, breath hitching once he pulled out of Jungkook to lay on his back, chest heaving whilst he blankly stared at the ceiling. It felt different, yet not different at all.

Jungkook's clammy chest heaved up and down and placed one hand on top of his skin, mindlessly rubbing at his peck as he chuckled. The aftermath of his own orgasm still pulsated in his softening length, the pool of his release warm on his lower stomach. "Yeah, it does." Kook's voice was just as hoarse. He turned his face towards his husband with a small, toothy grin on his face. They were both exhausted, definitely sobered up, and.. sticky, to say the least. But, content nonetheless. Jungkook couldn't have imagined a better way to spend their first wedding night together.

"Hey." His voice lowered, eyes heavy on the elder as he scuffed closer, pressing a soft kiss on Tae's arm.

"I love you. Can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you, Mr. Jeon."

© sombreboy 2020. Do not repost, edit or translate. Co-writer is my lovely @velvetwicebang​ <3

[that-wizard-oki]

Hello! I've been aware of your blog for years, and made a Tumblr blog very recently. I want to say that your posts are extremely well thought out, and give the storyline of Wizard101 a lot of much needed depth. I think if Wiz had the gameplay and story structure of Pirate101, it would benefit highly especially for worlds like Azteca and Khrysalis. Currently I'm rewriting Wiz and your posts are a huge inspiration. Finally. what are your thoughts on Arc 3? Imo it had potential but failed.

Hey there! Thank you so much for all your kind words, I’m glad you enjoy my thoughts and theories about the game-  and I’m flattered to hear they inspire you to create your own fan work :D 

Personally, I wouldn’t say that Arc 3 failed in any sense. I think the idea of a children's/family game to tackle the theme of a broken family\divorce is pretty smart- it gives the opportunity to adults who play this game with their kids to find a way to perhaps talk about their own experience with the same themes in their real lives (if it applies to them). Likewise, i also like that the story focuses on that the CHILDREN are the one who have to clean up the PARENTS mess, more or less. Often times the children in families who have a parent/parents that are either split, should split, or are abusive to one another, are the ones who get caught in the cross fire- this is SO evident with Mellori and Bat in Empyrea.

Following that, I think it was also super clever to have Mellori (and the wizard) initially ALSO be fighting against Spider’s children. Another common occurrence in families that experience abuse between their parents/ect, is that one or both of the parents will try to divide their children onto sides- furthering the divide and conflict in the family itself. THIS was exactly what was happening in arc 3- we weren’t technically fighting Raven and Spider, but their children were fighting each other in their names.

One of the most beautiful things to come out of this game was the fact that Mellori and Bat WERE able to see through that, and instead focused on the real threat at hand- their parents. In fact, it is their COMBINED power that allows the wizard to defeat the result of Raven and Spider- the Aethyr Titan. This reflects so well into reality, where when the children of broken families try their damned to support one another, instead of letting their parents continue to control and divide them, it leads to the kids being able to break the domino effect that comes with that kind of family dynamic. They are able to become individuals- instead of being some mini version or “part” of their parents (which is also clever on KI’s part to make Mellori and Bat/Rat/Scorpion LITERAL extensions of Raven/Spider, which makes it seem like they are just kind of mindless bots doing whatever their entrusted parent tells them). 

One part i particularly like as well is that towards the end of Empyrea, Mellori talk about how she’s going to go home to her mom- and it’s not Raven, it’s Baba Yaga. I absolutely love this idea that, yea, Mellori (and any kid for that matter) SHOULD be able to choose who their mom/dad/parent is if their birth parent(s) don't provide for you the way a parent should. I think that is a SUPER important lesson for Kids AND parents to hear. You choose your own family if that’s what it comes down to, and there is NO shame in that. 

That being said, i do have my issues with some things too- this might seem small, but I never liked how when we’re in the Husk, and Raven and Spider are talking to one another about who’s “really” at fault, and eventually Raven goes “oh what have i done?” and Spider just goes “.... Yea were were BOTH really bad huh?” Like.... listen, sure, Raven probably shouldn’t have locked Cob away for eternity and stole his chaos heart in order to reform the spiral, BUT imma be real with y’all... Spider also did shit to aggravate Raven- specifically, he messed with her kids into a fucking war. I mean this half sarcastically, but tbh, if you mess with a mother’s kids... that's fucking on you man, you know the grave your digging for yourself on that one lmao.

But more seriously- i feel like they REALLY tried to make Raven out to be “worse” than Spider, and having Spider just beguile her with his words at the end in a way were she ended up being like “oh nooo IM the really bad one, oh no oh noo :((” JUST for him to be like “no its ok babe :) we’re BOTH equally as bad, stay here with me and we can be bad and alone together :)”

Actually now that i write that out, it is a little.. weird that Spider kinda got what he wanted- to be with Raven, when imo, they really should have STAYED split. I don’t come from a divorced family, but I’ve many friends who do, and I’ve gathered that more often than not... divorce can be a good thing, as it is likely to stop/lessen the conflict within families. I think that yea, they both did bad things to one another, and need to stay apart, not spend the rest of eternity together.

That’s probably my biggest qualm with the entirety of Arc 3, beyond the various obvious one, which is that Morganthe played like, absolutely no part in it lmao. I’ve talked endlessly about it, so i won’t repeat myself too much lol. 

Just to briefly reiterate- i think that Morganthe, the one who re-discovered shadow magic, was groomed by the Shadow Magi, and very blatantly infused with something akin to the conversion tables we see in Khrysalis, I think she would have been an invaluable source of information and help for the Wizard. Not only does she probably know the most about Shadow Magic outside of Spider, but it’s insanely alluded to that she was under his control- perhaps even had contact or conversation with him somehow in her time as Shadow queen.

The biggest frustration of her lack of presence though, comes from the way Khrysalis built up this INSANELY interesting Foil between the Wizard and her. The way that they both weirdly fit the prophecy, the way their lead into The Hive was so eerily mirrored, the fact that we were both called the Children of Light and Shadow by Spider, and not to even mention how the shared feelings of loneliness and fear of failure as students of Ambrose... like I could go on about these two and how amazing it would have been for them both to work together in arc 3, but also help heal and grow as The Children of Light and Shadow... but that’s not what we got unfortunately. 

Anywho, i don’t wanna ramble on about that too much because i touched on it in another ask post and you can look at that if ya want in my tag, but yea! Those are my general thoughts on Arc 3. Again, i love this arc, i think it truly has some of the most nuanced writing and characters thus far in the game. 

Besides, i always think they could easily write in Morganthe’s return for a redemption with the wizard, especially now with the Wizard seemingly trying to fight their own shadows.

Hope that satisfied your question though, and good luck with your writings :D

[sugar-petals]

Can you tell us how to please a soft sub and hard sub? Like what could a guy enjoy?

it’s 95% individual, i’d ask + negotiate before ideas for play. i can suggest scenes but still, it might not be his limits. to remember is what differenciates the two: hard subs enjoy pain + power, soft subs don’t.

you can likely please the latter if you’re a gentle femdom aficionado. still depends on what kind of GFD you like, but you can grow into the role you agree on, shift. it’s a bit easier: fewer prerequisites. ofc there’s etiquette + talent, but you can please by tuning into the role pretty well. 

the former: not as flexible. there are set qualities. understand this as a ‘needed with good reason’ profile rather than gatekeeping. sadism is the requirement. no 50-50 zone, you feeling that you are a natural is key. your sub won’t be happy if you merely try it. it’s usually clear to a domme anyways, you either lick your fingers for s/m or not.

↳ as for specific kinks. what i can give you is a list of things to AVOID for each.💡it’s a roundabout way to see what he prefers and each sub’s a different case but it’s a compass.

✏︎ soft subs — don’ts

hair-pulling -> choose fondles and pats instead wherever he likes it the most.

name-calling -> praise is usually preferred

yelling -> whispering/soft-spoken, this is an asmr zone ☁️

hard spanking -> lighter squeezes

no squishy props -> use pillows, blankets, plushies if he wants. but, in any case, you’ll need pillows. can’t have enough of those.

tears -> only as a spontaneous release [during aftercare], most soft subs aren’t into dacryphilia

chaos -> soft subs love consistency. 

too much genitalia focus -> don’t forget the smooches and forehead kisses, and massages possibly. if he likes that, tend to seemingly neglegible body parts even, like ears and toes. boop the nose.

toy overwhelm -> back to basics, never forget he loves your hands. idea: choose pastels for color if you do get toys. dramatic black/red/metal is for the hardcore femdom department and suits the mood better. you likely have that preference already if you strictly soft dom.

breath play -> stick to neck kisses. mouth gags, same thing, he probably isn’t comfortable with it.

leaving marks -> 50-50, again, ask what kind you can and cannot leave. if he likes it, do 20% marks, 80% affection.

pragmatic, planned aftercare -> make it extensive + adapt easily. seems counterintuitive since hard subs take a lot more, but let me tell you soft subs think aftercare is literal catnip. if you’re a big brain domme, you transfer some aftercare favorites to the main act. also, about pragmatism: unlike with hard subs (see list below: #21), come up with a more fine-tuned safeword/limit system. these are play scenes where you can go into many different directions so that’s why. 

straightforward -> it’s no problem if you’re the indirect or shy type as a domme, it’s about careful questions toward him here. many soft subs approach their dommes well with wishes. ironically, hard subs are the other way around, they might anticipate more unless they’re very extroverted. the biggest hard subs were the quiet kiddos at school 😉 soft subs can be bubbly and reveal their demands rather easily.

deprioritize your orgasm -> make him tend to you in a lazy, slow demeanour. spoil each other.

all over the place -> stick to bedroom bed, bathtub and couch unless otherwise requested. the point is to have a safe and comfortable spot.

breaking him -> never push, always guide. again, consistency, no highs and lows.

suppressing critique -> he wants to know where to improve, show him exactly how to do things the right way and work with mistakes. not humiliating, more like teaching. 

dungeon -> keep it above ground. 

hands-on ownership -> show him he belongs to you in other ways. spoil him, that’s the best way.

high heels -> too impractical for 80% of GFD activities. fetish gear generally doesn’t work here. just mentioning, it’s probably already clear to everyone. and, purely soft dommes don’t gravitate towards dominatrix fashion in the first place.

passive -> unlike with hard subs, you likely do a lot of the work. soft dommes are busier than people expect.

atmosphere? -> switch on the fairy lights, candles, make it dim. make it as romantic as possible.

power imbalance -> air to breathe for any hard sub, but soft subs prefer flatter hierarchies. mind you, your position is still one of guidance. 

✏︎ hard subs — don’ts

tender voice > grit and growl in their ear aye

questions > proportion-wise, give more commands instead.

no tools -> introduce some devices according to your couple taste.

lenience -> tame that provocateur 😄 you define where his place is. show him, physically. under your foot, kneeling, bowing? find that perfect position for the two of you. 

only caressing > choke and slap him, but ask/announce right beforehand.

unbridled aggression -> misguided way of dominance unless it’s primal play. i know it’s more negatively connotated but deliberate brutality is the word, you exact it while keeping rather cool. unless... he fancies you as the angry mistress, or passionate, punishing. but then again, no aggression. just brutality. the difference is huge. the more sadistic the play, the more contained your action. not all understated, just very directed and according to how you spoke about it, and according to the feedback in front of you. you get perfect awareness, not dizzy tunnel vision and fluctuating feelings. i say brutality because it indicates a person knows what they’re doing. aggression and anger means you bottle your judgement. the brain switches off there, it gets too erratic. also, aggression is less severe and a means to an end while brutality is for its own sake and goes heavy which is what hard subs enjoy: since they’re masochists. aggressive and violent dommes are just assholes, brutal hard dommes... are good dommes. 😛

free reign clothes -> tell him what type of outfit makes him domme candy. experiment plenty. don’t worry, most hard subs enjoy being told what to wear. and even if they don’t, suggesting it won’t piss them off. also, you can get strict and exacting as fuck with this. hard subs want your possessiveness in creative ways.

plain undressed -> chances are CFNM could be a hot idea sometimes, or fetish wear which is often appreciated in all things hardcore. then again, dressing up is no must, but definitely try all-black outfits, suits etc, whatever makes you radiate authority and the upper hand. remember, hierarchy. your superiority is what he enjoys during sex, he actually gets confused if you don’t show it in your particular way. if it’s not clothes, it’s the voice, anyway. the voice lives in his head rent free.

no control -> full body attention, grope him the way he likes. also, the nape of his neck is where your hand belongs. guiding his head is just...mmh ❤️

monotony -> hard subs like a rollercoaster. roleplay = perfect opportunity.

static plans -> important: hard subs learn fast. since pain-pleasure is involved their sensations are more intense so feedback is usually unequivocal. mind you, soft subs can sort their preferences well but for them it takes exposure to variety.

what’s a nipple? -> pinching and more is most likely welcome. ask and test.

spoiling -> spoiling no. rewards, yes. he works for it. what does he work towards? pleasing you completely. in your body and commands.

shy domme -> when it comes down to it, you need to be resolute and eloquent. if you struggle with it, e.g. start with being stoic. pick your favorite pokerface and have a signature smirk lmao! and definitely do in-depth talks. yes, about his desires. unlike soft subs, some guys take more time to open up here. 

dry -> lube. keep it wet, especially his tear ducts anyway. 

unsure experiments/not knowing the outcome -> seriously tackle and prepare skills. yes, whip your pillow first. you can ‘try’ things with soft subs, but you ‘do’ things with hard subs. why? less room for errors. you please him by being precise. don’t let it intimidate you, simply take it as a responsibility he respects you greatly for.

heels -> hard subs might like that. plus, you’ll often simply stand. he does lots of the work. hard dommes can be more laid-back than you’d expect. remember, you kick his ass and give orders. he’s a pretty active party. exception: he’s tied up.

hesitation -> hard dommes have to be quick. especially since we edge a lot. also, never hesitate to praise.

forgetting skin -> stimulate large areas as much as you can.

unarmed -> chances are he likes knife play, ask about it.

too much caution and pampering -> an insult to his esteem. i’m not kidding. he feels in his element when you don’t hold back anxiously. trust his strength 😊 it’s a perk of femdom in the first place, you may be working on more muscles and often more space on the body, most maledoms don’t have that luxury. the same goes for safewording, keep it simple and applicable for the heat/reflex of the moment. it’s counterproductive to be overcautious since it makes it too complex.

the usual spot -> if he’s down: play everywhere, consider every room together. a cold and hard surface does something for a hard sub. as does rug burn if he likes that. make him do all kinds of things 100% naked on a carpet while you watch, it’s so humiliating. i did it, the result was my sub discovering even higher levels of sluttiness. 

suppression -> ask him to let it out vocally when he’s shy or not experienced. you’ll both love what follows. most hard subs are screamers. i hope you don’t have neighbors.

soft illumination -> use artificial light. not just to make your patient - doctor roleplay perfect, but because a hard domme needs to see what she’s doing for safety reasons already. use your (soy wax!) candles to ruin his back instead.

serious -> hardcore femdom is at its best when it’s peppered with little giggles. bring a feather just in case.

PS: these can even apply if they enjoy doing both, you have to match your tone according to the mood and plan then.

[dammitdobrik]

Twister | DAVID DOBRIK

Description: You and David's competitiveness along with Carly and Erin's meddling leads to a game of twister with interesting results.

Author's Note: Happy Valentine's Day hoes this is my gift to yall. I have school in like 7 hours but whatever who need sleep lmao. As always let me know what you think :)

Word Count: 2029

You blamed no one but yourself for getting you into your current predicament. It was your competitiveness, always your competitiveness. It’s been getting you into trouble for as long as you could remember.

It was the reason you had a scar on your forehead, were banned from this one bar downtown, and became good friends with an unruly group of Viners turned Youtubers.

You met them at a party at USC because you and a boy you’d find out later was Todd ended up in some crazy drinking competition that involved a blindfold and a paintball gun. Obviously David caught wind of this and came rushing in from the next room over at the party and filmed it for his vlog.

You too were similar in a sense that you were both crazy determined and willing to do almost anything to get what you wanted.

And what you both craved more than anything else in the world, besides maybe each other, was success.  

And that’s how you ended up where you were now, limbs entangled with David’s while one hand reached over his head to keep in contact with the red circle. Your faces were impossibly close, and you could feel his breath fan across your skin along with the swelling of his chest against yours at it rose and fell.

All in the name of winning a dumb game of Twister.

It had started as a competition between you and Zane. It was short lived, but a competition none the less. Then Heath wanted to try, then Scott, then Carly, then Natalie, until everyone had gone against you and lost.

All except one. David. The boy whose laugh and smile had been plaguing your mind longer than you cared to admit to anyone.

He was in his room editing while you and the others were playing out in his living room. He’d somehow been able to focus despite all the screaming, cheering, and laughter; and appeared once you’d successfully defeated Todd, finished with his vlog for the night.

You high fived Erin rather aggressively as you stood up, basking in the applause and adrenaline that came with winning.

“What the hell are you guys doing?” David asked, raising an eyebrow at Todd who was standing up off the floor with a groan.

“Twister,” Zane said, turning his camera on him. “And it’s your turn.”

Everyone started shouting in approval while David shook his head. “I’ll pass.”

“Aw c’mon you have too. Everyone’s already gone.”

David snorted and scrunched his nose at the wrinkled Twister mat. “You want me to play some shitty game on the floor?”

“We can’t declare (Y/N) the champion of Twister until she’s defeated everyone,” Carly said like it was obvious.

He looked over at you, and your heart thumped loudly in your chest as his eyes met yours.  “You’ve beaten everyone?”

For the sake of the camera you cracked your knuckles and cocked your head, smirking at David confidently. “And I’m about to add you to the list Dobrik.”

“I said I wasn’t playing.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and took a step closer. “Afraid you’re gonna lose?”

He and took a step forward, the corner of his lips tugging upwards into a relaxed smile. “You’re just begging for someone to put you in your place.”

“And you think you can handle that?” You threw your head back with a laugh and tucked some stray pieces of hair back behind your ear as you looked him and down pointedly. “You’re cute. I’d have you on your knees in a heartbeat.”

“You think about that image a lot?”

You scoffed and shook your head, cockiness coming of you in waves even though the way David’s eyes were boring into yours made goosebumps erupt along your arm.  “Don’t flatter yourself, and stop avoiding the question. You playing or what?”

David pursed his lips and stared at you for a moment longer before saying, “Fine.”

“I call spinning!” Erin and Carly yelled simultaneously as everyone started cheering excitedly.

And five minutes later, you could see exactly why they wanted to call the colors. Carly and Erin stood by the floor of the mat, side by side, holding the spinner in a way so no one else could see what it read.

Everyone else in their chatter didn’t seem to notice how they would study you and David’s position carefully, whisper quietly to one another, spin the wheel and glance it at for a quick second, then smile mischievously and call something that never failed to bring you and David into a more compromising position.

They were doing this shit on purpose.

“(Y/N),” Carly said, not bothering to look at the spinner, “Left foot green.”

David’s face relaxes a bit, and his eyelashes glint against the sunlight as he blinks and makes eye contact with you. “Oh there’s no way-“

You twist your hips and shift your weight over to your right leg, and in one swift motion your left leg swings up and over David’s waist to straddle him, your toes just making contact with the required circle.

You smile at him triumphantly as your noses lightly brush together. “No way what?”

David was so close to you that you can feel the heat of his skin from where his shirt had ridden up against your thighs.

Carly and Erin spin again, and you can practically hear the thumping of your heart with each rotation it made. “David, right hand blue.”

You chuckle as a groan reverberates through his body and to yours because of your close proximity. “Might as well give up now Dave there’s no way you’re gonna manage that.”

You could tell he was thinking about throwing the match to get out of this situation. But like you, David was stubborn as hell, and really wanted to win.

With a determined glint to his eye and a clenched jaw, he wiggles his arm out from between you and it brushes against your chest. He strains to keep as much distance as possible between you as his position alters.

Your mouth parts and a shaky breath escapes. You unconsciously lick your lips to wet them, and David’s attention is immediately drawn to the action.

Your breath hitches in your throat mid inhale as you feel him falter slightly beneath you. Your muscles ache and you can feel beads of sweat begin to form along your hairline. It’s getting harder to keep your hand on the red circle above David’s head, the moistness of your palms making you need to readjust your grip more and more often.

You’d been at this game for the better part of an hour at this point because you’d gone against basically everyone in the vlog squad before this round with David. You were getting tired, and you didn’t think you could hang in there much longer. Meanwhile, David definitely had the stamina remaining to give you a run for your money.

But you didn’t want to lose. Losing wasn’t an option. It never was.

And it wasn’t for David either, you knew that. He wasn’t going to back down.

Your close proximity to David obviously had an effect on him. His breathing was shallower, his eyes darker, and his gaze darted to your lips at the slightest bit of movement. Heat was radiating off him where your skin touched, and since your chests were pressed against one another you could feel his heart’s rapid beating.

That meant he could probably feel yours do the same thing, but you tried not to focus on that too much.

A hasty plan began to form in your mind to secure victory, albeit, it wasn’t the best you’d come up with, but it’d get the job done.

You leaned your face closer to David’s ever so slightly so that your noses brushed together. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and before you could think about it too much you closed the remaining distance between your lips and kissed him.

His eyelashes brushed against your cheek as his eyes fluttered closed. His lips were lightly chapped yet soft as he tensed up and moved his head forward to kiss you back. Your one free hand cupped his cheek and pressed his face closer to yours, then moved its way up to thread its’ finger through his hair.

You tilted your head to deepen the kiss and moved your lips firmly against his, tugging gently in the end of his hair. His nose pressed against your cheek as he tilted his head and began to lose himself in the kiss, responding with just as much fervor.

You waited for a moment until you knew you had him, then nipped at his bottom lips with your teeth. David’s lips parted with a gasp and he dropped to the floor.

You caught yourself so you didn’t completely land on top of him, your forearms forming a cage around his head.

You grinned cheekily at his dazed expression and pink lips, sitting up straight and standing up. “I win.”

Your friends, well, their faces were priceless. They didn’t seem to know whether or not to cheer because you won the Twister championship or stand there both confused and shocked at what they’d just watched.

Carly and Erin were undoubtedly happy and pleased with themselves though, judging by the smug expressions on their faces.

You left shortly after that along with everyone else and went back to your apartment. It was getting late, and everyone had things to do like edit while Jason and David still had to record a Podcast.

It was well past dark and a few hours since you were dubbed the Queen of Twister when there was a knock at your door.

You wiped your hands nervously against your shirt as you got up to answer it. You couldn’t decide whether or not you wanted it to be David or not.

Once the adrenaline rush that came naturally with competition had worn off, you realized what you’d done was pretty stupid. Kissing David, your friend and the boy you liked, in front of all your friends and Zane’s camera just to win a game of Twister wasn’t the smartest idea.

You opened the door, and sure enough, it was him.

His hair was disheveled and his were crossed over his chest. “That wasn’t fair.”

You opened the door wider and stepped aside so David could come in. You closed the door behind you and turned around to face him, meeting his gaze with a raised eyebrow. “You came all the way over here just to tell me that?”

“No, I came all the way over here to get you back.”

You stepped backwards for every step he took forward until your back hit the door.

David took your face in his hands and crashed your lips against his, pressing himself against you while your arms wrapped around his back and up his shoulder blades.

Any sense of hesitation that was there during your first kiss was gone and he immediately tilted his head to deepen the kiss. He threaded his fingers through your hair then towards the back of your head so that his thumbs came to rest delicately on your cheeks.

You stood on your tip toes and arched your back into him, sighing blissfully into the kiss as you basked in the feeling of warmth enveloping you.

He nipped at your bottom lip like you’d done to him and in a cloudy haze of desire you didn’t hesitate for even a second to deepen the kiss further. Months of unresolved tension were released like water from a dam and it was teeth over lips over tongue and it was absolutely heavenly.

You had to pull apart for air eventually, as much as you hated to do so.

You blinked dazedly up at David, not able to think quite clearly as of yet.

His hair was an even bigger mess than before and his lips were swollen red. His eyes crinkled at the corners as a light smirk overcame his mouth, and seemingly rather pleased with himself David said only half-jokingly, “Now we’re even.”

[thezfc]

OK- I decided to combine all the anons I have about Fiona/Zhora/Stalkers because it’s ALOT.

Anonymous said: Ok, I must vent. It chuffs my ass to no end to see these bitches brag about how this is their 3rd time meeting Tom at stage door! They're taking up space in line when someone who has never had the chance to meet him but wants to yet doesn't get that chance. Meanwhile they think the more he sees them he's going to magically fall in love with them. They're so fucking selfish. You've met him. Get over yourselves and let others have the same chance. 😠 Btw, before you say anything, I live in (pt1) (pt2) states and have no chance of seeing the play or meeting him. And I'm fine with that. It just really pisses me off to see these immature bitches act so selfishly. News flash: He's NOT going to fall for you so get on with your lives! Thanks for letting me vent. Anonymous said: To anon saying you should have Fiona on your podcast. No, don't be dumb. The problem with you guys is you're so fixated on your hatred of Zhora that you'll ally with anyone she argues with... But those people are just as bad as her. It's not a win to have a creep on your podcast just because she hates Zhora. That's hypocritical.

Anonymous said: Lmao someone asked Fiona if Tom knew she rented Airbnbs near his house and so on and she didn't answer, just got all sanctimonious again 🙄🙄🙄 What's your opinion on Fiona then, Zero? You seem to have a very wishy washy opinion on the issue. Half the time you scream stalker at anyone you hate, then you downplay it or suggest others do the same when you like them? Anonymous said: Actually the legal definition of stalking in the UK includes "loitering (in any public or private place" as one of the potential factors. There's a lot of wording about how many factors have to be present to bring a case of stalking to the police, but these fans tick one or two behaviours that *can* go hand in hand with stalking. Loitering in a public place... Near his house... If Tom really wanted to I bet he could bring a case against one or two fans, and threaten a few others.

Anonymous said: Also lmao at FR coming on here to whine about Zhora. Honey, Zhora DID talk to you about this, more than once. And you and your pack of dogs hounded her off Tumblr last time she called out your hypocrisy. Zero, I know you hate Zhora but she was right on the money about Fiona. Fiona's a hypocritical creep. She grandstanded about Grace when she's exactly the same, maybe even worse. Plus, hon, not everyone who talks about you is Zhora. You brag about this shit all over your various SM handles.

Anonymous said: I don't think Tom's "bothered" by the stalker fans, but I think he's not aware that FR also stays in his area on "holiday" and so on. That might change his outlook somewhat? But still, even if he doesn't feel threatened by it, he knows what they're doing and why. It's not like he thinks they're really cool and should be his BFF (or sex partner like they dream of). Plus him not being outwardly bothered doesn't mean its okay!!!! It's still fucked up. Anonymous said: Talking about stalkers, two french girls keep "bumping" on Tom. One even left france for months to live there and the other met him multiples times same for cumberbatch and a few others actors. Anonymous said: Diff perspective on 'stalker' fans-I have a few degree separation w/intl famous band & spouse & friends involved w/fan fundraisers/events worked w/mngmt etc. Had issues w/some stalker fans & I got irritated cuz seemed like they got 'special' treatment from band but had VERY revealing convo w/mngmt & security once on how they were all VERY aware & it was more a case of "keeping them close to keep an eye on them". So just cuz TH is smiling doesn't mean he's cool with everything (+ he's an ACTOR!) rllca submitted: “as long as the frequent flyers stay reasonable”…..but middle-aged women spending that much money and seeing his play so many times is totally UNreasonable. He must think they’re nuts! tomhiddlestonangel said: Keep holding up the mirror to these crazy stalkers. There is nothing more terrifying than having a reflection you don’t recognise. Denial is one of human natures worst enemies. Their just a bunch of Buzz Lightyears waiting for their epiphany 💡 Keep going Z, if nothing else their reactions are hilarious 🤣 Anonymous said: Here’s some piping hot tea for you: Zhora Salome is old enough to know better than to behave like a goddamn child. Why do the rules she set up not apply to her? I hope someone makes her take a long walk off a short cliff.

Anonymous said: “Photographic evidence” First of all, he’s an actor. He’s spent years acting excited to see the same people over and over again. Second ... have you looked at the body language in those pictures? He’s entirely angled away from them, the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes and he looks like he wants to sprint into the night.

Anonymous said:

If instead of paying ten grand to see him now why not invest it in something worthwhile, wait five years when his career isn't what it is now, then take it out and have a few more dollars to see him at a convention or in his latest theater project?

rllca said:

$10 000 for a few minutes of small talk, then you go on your way. He doesn't give a shit about you.

Anonymous said:

Tom is probably really flattered that these fans spend so much money going to see his play multiple times, who wouldn't be. He seems to enjoy interacting with fans at work e.g. stage door etc. I think if he realised she was staying so close to his house that she can see in to his courtyard he would probably not be so happy.

Anonymous said:

Congrats Fiona, when's the wedding?

Anonymous said:

www.instagram.com/p/ByJU1b_F1jb/?igshid=1xkp9nn1bqujk Ugh. She keeps conveniently skirting over the fact that he probably doesn't know she lurks around by his house every time she's in London. I remember her and Saney being bitches about Grace, when isn't Fiona exactly the same? It doesn't matter if Tom looks happy to see her, the FACT is, she shouldn't be lurking around his neighborhood like a creep. Stick to stage door, ffs.

------------------------------------------------

To the third anon down asking me about my opinion- I feel like you are probably the same person who called her out on her blog.  I don’t know Fiona- she messaged me just this last week to tell me about the Omaze thing- probably to get ahead of it and I have been honest with her that I have been very vocal about my thoughts around this obsessive fan girl behavior and her reply was actually pretty reasonable- she wasn’t a bitch about it and didn’t try to change my mind.  But I have received more information from other blogs and anons with receipts that she is lying that she’s never stayed near his house and she in fact has very recently. I don’t like the lying- admit it or else you KNOW it’s wrong. 

EIther way- I don’t have to shit talk every single one of these frequent fliers, I don’t want my blog to become just a place to bitch about them- there are SO MANY that it’s too much to keep track of, and I’m sure there are plenty more who don’t post on open social media accounts who have been there a zillion times- I know of plenty that I’ve said nothing about. I said my peace on my blog and podcast and this Omaze raffle was it’s own whole drama.

In conclusion- I will be very happy when this play is over and this issue stops being drama and everyone can stop treating him like a zoo attraction. I”m sure the anon is right that the frequent fliers will be all of over the place this week getting their last fix. 

[evans-fiction]

She’s Got A Choice

Summary: She was an uptown girl, he was a backstreet guy. She was running away from the realities of her life, and he provided the safe haven in a world she never thought could become her own. Falling in love with a bartender was not what Deborah, daughter of a filthy rich investor, had planned, but it seemed destiny had something else prepared for her. 

Pairings: 50s au Chris Evans X OFC Debbie

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: flirting mostly. very light angst, mostly fluff. it’s the 50s, what do you expect lmao. This is not with Steve Rogers, you can picture it but it’s 100% Chris.

Part I

It had been pouring that one evening, the water ricocheting on the pavement and splattering the few pedestrians daring to face the gloomy weather. Neon lights flickered with the rain, their glow almost blinding under the darkness, but they added a touch of colour to the dreary, but always lively Greenwich. Cars roared on the busy streets, the tires splashing their surroundings and causing an array of high pitched gasps left and right. 

It wasn’t a perfect night in New York City, especially for Deborah Collins. The young woman sulked as she walked on the street, heels barely keeping her toes dry from the water. She could feel droplets slide inside her short jacket and her hair start to stick to her neck, the newspaper she had used as a makeshift umbrella doing a poor job at keeping her protected from the rain. She damned herself for choosing to walk, finding it now absolutely stupid to have left her perfectly warm and dry car. But she had been too proud, and now it was far too late. Deborah was not even sure he would find her among the crowd anymore. 

She huffed, dropping her aching arm holding the newspaper and accepting the fact that it was doing nothing to protect her. The water was hot, it was after all the middle of August, but it felt harsh on her face, typical of storms. It would be only a matter of minutes before the thunder would come along, and she had to properly cover herself before then. 

Deborah had tried to avoid busy bars and bustling restaurants, wishing to stop at a calmer place so she could dry herself and make a call. Her quest had been very much unfruitful, and she decided to give up and abruptly entered the next bar she came across. It wasn’t exactly full, she was relieved at that, but its interior made her stand out less among the crowd. It was a dark place, few lanterns were placed to illuminate the room, but it did give it a cosier ambiance. If she hadn’t been so pressed to get a telephone, she would have taken the time to give it a better look. Instead, she hurried herself over to the empty bar, waiting for someone, anyone that could help her. 

As if the world wasn’t done making her suffer, a loud thunder rumbled, splitting the dark sky with its lightning. She couldn’t help but flinch at the sound, never having been fond of such work of nature, and to make matters worse, the few bulbs hanging from the ceiling started to flicker. “Welcome to Dodger’s, what can I serve you today Ma’am?” She turned at the sound of a new voice, a practiced smile pulling at her lips with relief.

“Oh dear, sorry for barging in so suddenly. The rain is quite awful this evening.” She said, awkwardly arranging her hair as she took in the bartender’s particularly pleasing appearance. Debbie felt absolutely mortified that a man like this was witnessing her in such a state. She removed her wet satin gloves, shoving them in her purse as she leaned on the counter.

“It’s quite alright, Ma’am. Would you like a towel?” He offered a chiffon, Debbie eyeing the stained material with a grimace. “Unless that is not fit to your taste.” He started to retract his hand but she sighed, giving up on her pride and accepting the cloth. It was dry, at least. “Now, what can I serve you?” He repeated, smiling too and it made her blush.

“Well, actually, I was wondering if I could use your telephone? I’m a bit lost, you see, and need to contact-” She didn’t have the chance to finish her sentence that another lightning struck, this time its power loudly shutting off the lights around them. “...My driver.” She whispered, defeated. The man cringed while his customers started to moan at the weather, either groggily getting out or retreating in corners to finish their beers in the dark. 

“Still want that phone?” He said and Debbie rolled her eyes at him, collapsing on a barstool. If she had no way to call Mr Rivers, then she might as well stay here until the rain stopped, or the electricity came back. “Now, Ma’am, I don’t mind you hanging around, but will your order something?” 

“Alright, a martini will be fine.” The man nodded, turning to first light up a few candles for the remaining people to not walk blindly in the dark. “And you can call me Miss, please. Hearing Ma’am makes me feel like a centenarian.”

“My apologies. I did assume from the ring on your finger I ought to call you properly.” He said while his back was facing her and Debbie’s eyes widened, hastily hiding her hand from view. She felt herself blush red, not quite sure how to recover from that embarrassment. He turned while holding her drink on a tray, a smirk hanging on his lips. “There you go Miss.” 

She watched him attentively, taking note of his deep set eyes, blue like the sea and shadowed by long lashes. His hair was short and clean cut, a dirty blonde at their ends as they swooped over his forehead. Although he clearly seemed older than her, his looks gave off a boyish appearance, almost innocent. But that stopped at his face, because his wide shoulders and strong arms did not belong to a boy. This was a man. Deborah thanked him in a whisper, sipping on the drink she didn’t quite want, but at least it would refresh her while she waited. “If you don’t mind my asking.” The bartender said, pulling at the towel on his shoulder to clean a glass. “What’s a lady like you doing in these parts of town so late?”

“I do mind.” She replied, lips tight and trying to ignore his amused expression. “Are you assuming I’m a fream?”

“Far from that, Miss.” He chuckled, eyebrows raising. “But it’s not everyday that I see someone dressed like you stumble into my bar.” Debbie glanced down at the black, silk cocktail dress she had chosen to wear for the evening. Its silver incrusted embroidery shimmered under the candle lights, matching her Dior pumps that were now completely ruined by the rain. 

“I was out for dinner.” She simply explained and he seemed unsatisfied by her answer.

“In Greenwich?” 

“No.” She said, sounding a little insulted. “If you must know, it was at the Plaza.” He whistled and she rolled her eyes, sensing the slight judgment coming from him. 

“And you still decided to visit my humble bar after that place?” He teased, smirk growing. “I’m honoured.”

“Please, do not flatter yourself.” Although she could sense he was mocking her, Deborah still enjoyed the teasing. It did make him smile, and that was a sight she would forever keep engraved in her mind. “It was the closest place to hide from the rain. And…” Her eyes gazed around the room, genuinely relieved that the tender kept the bar clean and remotely cosy. “Let’s say I’m satisfied.”

The man nodded, gladly accepting the compliment coming from a woman who clearly had great taste. But it wasn’t what mattered to him. “I hope you are not expecting a butler to waltz in and tend to your needs?” 

“Isn’t that what you’re here for?” Debbie answered. She too could play along, never having been a softie. He gazed at her, the woman now fully catching his interest. 

“I’ll take care of you, alright.” His words made her blush, but she rolled her eyes to dissipate them. “But that’ll cost you.” She scoffed, a little affronted by the undertone of what he was saying. This man clearly had no shame.

“What could you possibly want from me besides my money?” He shrugged lightly, replacing the cloth over his shoulder while gazing at her.

“Your name.” His answer left her a little stunned, uncertain if she should give it to him or not. But Debbie didn’t know that man, he could be dangerous or part of some beat gang. She pondered lying, but found it useless in the end.

“You’ll have to work overtime for that.” Her reply made him grin, a challenging light coming across his eyes. 

“Alright then, Miss. I’ll play another game.” Her eyebrow raised, wondering what he had meant, but her confusion was soon cleared. “Let me guess how a Dolly from the upper east side ended up in my bar, on a stormy night.” Her lips parted at how he had called her, Debbie straightening her posture and ready to fight back if he would continue to insult her. “You clearly look like you’re running away from something, and judging on how you’ve been hiding the ring since I mentioned it, there is an interesting backstory to this.”

“Are you writing a book?” She quipped, which made him snort. “Maybe I was just touring the Village for fun.”

“In this rain? Don’t take me for a fool.” She clicked her tongue, trying to hide her annoyance behind her martini. Although irritating, the bartender emanated a chilling aura that piqued her curiosity. She wanted to see if he would get it all. “Alright, first guess. You caught your fiancée with a mistress?”

Deborah scoffed, replacing her glass on the counter. “You’re cold.” He hummed, eyes squinting until a barely noticeable ring of brilliant blue could be seen. 

“Runaway bride?” He tried again and she motioned at her black outfit.

“Am I in a wedding dress?” 

“Good point.” A smile made its way on her lips, starting to enjoy this small exchange. He was being a nice distraction from her terrible night. “You are clearly engaged, but don’t seem happy to be.” His words made her flicker of delight vanish, face falling into a scowl, while his only lit up. “Am I getting hotter?”

She didn’t reply to him, only finishing her martini and avoiding his eyes. It seemed to have answered him. “There are two options here,” He began, arms leaning on his side of the counter to look at her. She stiffened at the proximity, not necessarily from fear, but the man was terribly handsome for a mere bartender and it was starting to get intimidating. “Either he broke your heart...Or you’re about to break his.” Her lips twitched at his last words, the man quickly catching on it and he nodded. “I’m guessing the latter.”

“Are you always so perceptive?” She murmured, keeping her eyes on his to showcase a confidence she didn’t have. He chuckled lowly, still inspecting her features for any hint of an explanation. With him so close, Debbie started to feel a tension rise, almost stilling the air around them. Imperceptibly, she saw him glance at her lips, the gesture so blunt it shook her out of the faint trance he had put her in. “You’re still cold.”

He laughed, raising both hands in defeat while slightly pulling away. “Alright, I give up. That’ll be 50 cents, by the way.” He pointed at her drink, still looking delighted at their exchange. Debbie would be lying if she told herself it hadn’t been entertaining, and quite frankly, the most fun she had had all night. And so, feeling a rush of boldness coursing through her blood, she pulled a pristine five dollar bill from her purse and neatly slid it towards him. “I’ll get another one. Please.”

Her eyebrow arched, tempting, and the man looked a little taken aback by her change in attitude, but not less fascinated with this mysterious woman. “Right away, Miss.” He said, nodding while keeping his eyes on hers. 

She smiled as he started to make her drink, feeling her heart thunder in her chest at how flirtatious things were becoming. How they had ended up here, she had no clue, but she was starting to enjoy every second of it. “You can call me Debbie.”

The man halted his movements, turning his head to look at her coyly. She bit her lip, watching him shake the martini before expertly pouring it into a new glass. “Chris.” He replied, his name perfectly fitting to his dreamy visage. “At your service, Debbie.” 

[tenebris-melodiam]

Stefano Valentini x Reader: Facade - Chapter 4

Pairing: Stefano Valentini x Reader/Female Protagonist (18+)

Warnings: Light swearing

Current Time: December 19th, 2015

=2=

Tired eyes creaked open, the blur of the dark room surrounding you filling your vision. You parted your lips, a gurgling mumble leaving your throat as you lifted your head slightly from your pillow to give a quick look around the darkened room. You blinked slowly, trying to rid the blur from your eyes as you fumbled around for the phone that rested upon your bedside table. Once you had the device within your fingers, you slowly brought the illuminated screen to your face, just barely able to make out the time: 4:33 A.M. It was only now that your mind began to register what exactly had woken you—the loud, rhythmic thumping coming from the floor beneath you, and the feeling of your bed vibrating along to the beat of the incessant music. You rolled your eyes, tossing your phone into the wrinkles of your bedsheets as you brought yourself to sit upright; this was the third night in a row that your downstairs neighbors had been partying throughout the hours of the night, and you were beginning to grow weary of it.

Knowing that you weren’t going to be able to fall back to sleep, you slung your legs over the side of the bed and rose to your feet, the sound of cracking toes and popping bones reaching your ears as your body hastily grew accustomed to its new position and relaxed itself. You gave a quiet groan as you shuffled yourself into your bathroom, your fingertips running through the messy muff of hair atop your head as you made your way over to your bathtub—you didn’t care how early it was, any time was a good time for a hot, relaxing bath. Hell, perhaps you might be a rebel and put some bubbles in there this time. You made sure that the drain was properly plugged so water couldn’t make a desperate escape, and then unleashed the torrent of warm water into the porcelain tub to allow it to fill.

You gave a quiet grunt as you tugged your pajama shirt off over the top of your head, lazily allowing it to drop from your grip and onto the floor next to your sink, and then proceeded to do the same thing with your pants and undergarments. Before you knew it, you were clad in nothing more than your birthday suit, and it struck you that you might want to do a bit of light reading whilst relaxing in your bath—after all, maybe it would help drown out the damn music that was still vibrating your apartment. You made a quick trip out into your bedroom to locate your phone, and then grabbed your favorite book from the drawer of your bedside table and hastily made your way back into the bathroom. By this time, the tub was about a third of the way full, and you hummed to yourself as you rummaged around underneath your sink for that bottle of liquid you kept for emergencies like this. Once you found it, you popped the top off and threw several long ropes of it into the water—almost immediately, the water began to form a thin layer of bubbly film upon the top, which eventually evolved into large, mountainous hills of foam.

Growing rather tired of wandering around naked, you cautiously slipped one foot under the pile of foam and into the warm water. It sent a shudder along the entirety of your figure, goosebumps forming on your flesh as your body began to make itself used to the change in temperature. You reached over and turned off the faucet before slipping your other foot underneath the foam, and gradually eased the rest of your lower body beneath the surface of the water. Once you were comfortable, you gave a sigh of pleasure and leaned your head back against the head of the tub, but not before making sure that your book and phone were safely placed on the windowsill that was to your left.

After allowing yourself to soak for a good five minutes, you heard something that you hadn’t experienced all night: silence. The seemingly never-ending thumping of music had ceased, and now the only sound that filled your ears was beautiful silence; well, aside from the occasional drop of water that fell from the metal mouth of the faucet. However, that was most certainly something that you could put up with. You reached up onto the windowsill, grabbing your book within your hand before bringing it down in front of you and opening up to where your bookmark was to continue reading.

After losing yourself within the contents of your book, you were drawn back to reality by the sound of your phone going off upon the windowsill. You glanced over to your right to take a look at the analog clock sitting upon the corner of your sink, and you now saw that you had spent nearly thirty minutes in the bath already: 5:01 A.M. You grabbed your bookmark, sliding it neatly between the pages of your book before shutting it and placing it back upon the windowsill, and then replaced it with your phone. You flicked your thumb across the screen to unlock it, not even bothering to look at who the message was from, and then opened your messaging app to read it properly. To your surprise, you had not one, but two messages—one from Vincent, which had been received at 4:56 (you must have been too deep into your book to hear your phone) and the most recent one, which was from Stefano. God, they were both such early birds; you decided to read Vincent’s message, since it was the one that had been received first.

[Vinny]: Boss called me this morning. I don’t think he knew it was me lol… he sounded pretty drunk. Not to mention he called me “Rebecca” which is the name of his wife. I’ve never been sweet-talked by my boss before, but damn. He and his wife must have some crazy bedroom life by what he was saying lmao

[Me]: Thank you for the lovely bit of info at the end there, Vincent. I guess you and I both had an early morning. The idiots beneath me were partying from like 9 to 4… didn’t get any sleep. They’ve been doing this for 3 days now. So now I’m just sitting in the bathtub to try and get some form of peace.

After thumbing the send button and watching the little speech bubble pop up on your end of the conversation, you returned to your inbox and pressed down upon Stefano’s name in order to see exactly what he had sent you. It was an image that had to be downloaded, and the name was simply “Preview”; you cocked your eyebrow curiously, and then allowed it to download—when the image finally revealed itself to you, you felt a small smile creep upon your lips. It was one of the photographs that he had taken of you at the third photography session you had done with him two days ago; it was a bust shot, but it was certainly one of the most beautiful photographs you had ever seen of yourself. You always hated how you looked whenever your picture was taken, but Stefano seemed to be the only photographer that was able to remedy such a negative outlook on your pictures.

There was no doubt about it—this photograph was going to be your new photograph for any columns that you made. You made sure to save the image to your phone, and then began to thumb down a response for the man to read.

[Me]: This is absolutely beautiful, Stefano. I hope you don’t mind, but I’d like to use it as my new image to go alongside my columns in the paper! However, why did you name it “preview?” What is it a preview of?”

[Stefano]: You’ll come to find out in due time, I assure you. I’m also quite flattered you wish to use it as your column image—please do so, by all means.

Once you had read Stefano’s response, you sighed deeply and placed your phone back upon the windowsill. The water within the tub was beginning to get a bit cold now, so you dug around beneath the water to unplug the drain before rising to your feet. You figured it would be a good time to take a shower now, especially since you were covered in bubbles and hadn’t done any real washing, so you stepped out of the tub and onto your rug, which grew dark as it soaked in water that dripped from your body. You stepped over to the glass door that led into your shower, opening it to turn it on and allow the water to heat up a bit. Thank God this apartment building had the water bill included as a paid amenity.

=2=

By the time that you were fully ready for the day, it was about eight thirty in the morning. You had taken your time, seeing as how you didn’t really have to be anywhere in a hurry, and you had spent a majority of your time laying upon your bed thumbing down responses to both Stefano and Vincent. You knew that Vincent could be rather talkative via text messages, but you had no idea that Stefano would almost be an equal match for him. You had partaken in several small conversations with him before, but this was the first time he had continuously spoken to you in a non-formal style. You supposed it might have something to do with the fact he had begun to rant about the other columns that he had read that had been released over the course of the past few weeks—they, like yours, were centered around the solo show that he had hosted, and as always, they weren’t singing his praises.

[Stefano]: It simply amazes me how ignorant the masses are, (Name). They appear to willingly ramble on for years about how a photograph of nothing more than a field of grass holds beauty and wonder, yet they refuse to acknowledge the exquisite beauty in the artwork I pour my heart and soul into.

[Me]: I know, Stefano. I don’t understand them, either. I’ll tell you what… how about I come over to your place? We can talk in person there, and maybe do a photo session if that would make you feel better?

[Stefano]: You’re too kind, (Name). I suppose I wouldn’t mind the company. What time do you think you’ll arrive?

[Me]: Hmm… I could be there in about ten minutes if I took the bus. Well… granted the bus isn’t off schedule. We all know the Krimson City bus line isn’t very reliable.

[Stefano]: Ah yes… damnable thing. Well, I will expect you over sometime soon.

You took a glance up at the top right corner of the screen to see that the time was now eight fifty-three, and you quickly got up out of bed. Thankfully the bus typically arrived at around nine, and there was a stop just outside your apartment, so all you had to do was make your way down the stairs. You made sure all the lights and such were turned off as you made your way through the apartment, and then grabbed your heavy coat from inside your coat closet near the entry door. After hastily slipping it on, you grabbed your bag and your keycard, and then made your way out into the wintery city.

The bus, which pulled up to the stop right as you got to the bottom of the stairs, welcomingly allowed you inside with the help of your bus pass. Once you had taken a seat, you noticed at it was nearly empty, save an elderly woman in the very back of the vehicle and a young man who was staring down at his phone. Wait, why did that young man look so familiar?

“Vincent?”

The man looked up from his phone, only to have a huge smile spread across his lips. He rose to his feet and made his way over to you, plopping down upon the empty seat to your left and giving you a nudge on your shoulder.

“Hey! What are the odds we’d see each other on the bus, huh?”

“I dunno, but it’s pretty nice! Where are you heading, Vincent?”

“Well, I’m just heading down to the library. Thought I’d do a bit of reading there, since I haven’t had any time, y’know? But what about you? Where are you going so early in the morning?”

“I’m just going over to Stefano’s place. He’s all worked up about the other critics and their columns, so I thought I’d give him some company.”

As soon as you answered your best friend, you realized the dire mistake you had made. His eyebrow cocked as a sly grin came upon his lips, and he stared at you as he brought his cheek to rest upon your shoulder—this was something he had done throughout all the years you had known him, so it wasn’t something that particularly bothered you. You knew you were in for some teasing, however, since that was the only time he ever acted like this.

“Giving him some company, hmm? What kind of company are we talking about here?”

“Vincent, it’s nothing like that…”

You shoved him gently, which he greatly over-exaggerated and acted as though you had rammed him full force with your shoulder. This elicited a laugh from the both of you, and you continued to talk about things going on in your daily lives as the bus made various stops around the city. Eventually, the elderly woman ended up getting off of the bus, leaving only you, Vincent, and the bus driver as residents within it. You heard Vincent say something about the next stop being where he had to get off, and you saw his eyes light up as he gave a smile.

“Oh yeah, I entirely forgot! I know you don’t like big parties with tons of people, but on Christmas Eve, we’re heading over to the club on 51st Avenue. Do you want to come along?”

“Mmm… probably not. I just get worn out too quickly when I’m around tons of people like that. Even going to your bar is sometimes a bit much, y’know?”

“Yeah, yeah! I just wanted to ask was all. It’s not a big deal, (Name). But, you better be home at midnight, cause I’m coming to your apartment afterwards and I have a surprise for you!”

You felt the bus come to a stop, and Vincent rose to his feet as he turned his attention to the now-open door that led out onto the snow-covered sidewalk. He then looked at you one last time and placed a hand on your shoulder to say goodbye, and you noticed him wink before hurrying to the front of the bus and hopping out onto the sidewalk. You rolled your eyes—Vincent always was pretty silly around you, but you loved him all the same. You saw him wave through the window as the bus began to drive off, and you waved back at him to give one final goodbye. Now you were the only one, aside from the driver, left upon the lonely bus.

Thankfully the feeling of loneliness wasn’t prolonged for much longer—your stop was directly after Vincent’s, and it felt good to step off of the bus and into the cold air of the city. You wandered a bit down the sidewalk, passing a few people who were on their way to who knows where, and then stopped once you got to the doors that led into Stefano’s building. You looked up, unable to see the top of the building from where you stood, and then pushed the door open to head inside. As you entered, you were greeted by the young woman sitting behind the main desk, and you gave a wave of your hand in response to this before making your way through the lobby and in front of the elevator. Your forefinger pressed gently upon the button with an upright arrow upon it, and you had to wait several minutes whilst the elevator made its way to the bottom floor.

When the doors opened, several residents within the building made their way out, one of which accidentally (or so you’d like to think) nudged you with their shoulder as they walked past you. You shot them a glance over your shoulder as you made your way into the now empty elevator, and pressed the button that would take you to the penthouse suite that Stefano was housed in. The doors pressed shut, and your journey upwards began—thankfully it wasn’t too terribly long, and before you knew it you were walking down the hallway that led up to the artist’s entry door. Once you stopped outside his door, you curled your fingers into your palm and rapped upon the door a few times to alert the resident within. It only took a few moments before the door was opened to reveal Stefano, who was clad in a black suit and red undershirt, and giving you a welcoming smile; as you walked past him, you couldn’t help but think of how dashing his current attire made him look.

“You look very nice today, Stefano.”

“Oh, only today? What about all the previous times we’ve met, hmm?”

“N-no, no! I didn’t mean-“

“I jest, mia cara. Come, allow me to prepare you a drink—is there anything that might suit your fancy at the moment?”

You responded that you would just like some water for the time being, and then watched as Stefano walked into the confines of his kitchen. You decided to head into the living room, where you took a seat upon the couch; it wasn’t long before Stefano exited his kitchen and made his way beside you, gracefully setting your glass of water upon a coaster before taking a seat upon the opposite side of the couch. You leaned over, gripping your glass within your fingers before bringing the rim to your lips and taking a small sip of the chilly liquid within. Once you had set your glass back upon the coaster, you looked over in Stefano’s direction.

“So… are you still upset about the other columns? I know you were pretty worked up about them before I left.”

Stefano gave a quiet hum, and you saw his gaze turn to the framed photographs that rested around the living room. He was silent for a while, but then gave a small smile and gestured in their direction.

“Look at them, (Name). Look at them and tell me you cannot see beauty in them. Glistening crimson contrasting with gentle, pale skin… to me, such a photograph brings wonderful jubilation. And yet those goddamn philistines continue to make a mockery of me and my work.”

You saw the smile that had previously been upon his lips morph into a scowl, and you noticed the whiteness upon his knuckles as he curled his fingers harder into the palm of his hand. It was upsetting to see the artist in such a state of distress, but you kept quiet for the time being—you were going to do nothing more than listen to him, since that seemed to be what he needed right now.

“It has been this way since the day I began my career. With each wonderous picture I take, fifty more fools flock to them and degrade them—degrade me. I have read every article, every column… I have taken every word to heart, though I do not show it. The time I take to make sure every detail is perfect I cannot even begin to fathom, and yet a photograph that has been taken a million times before accumulates more praise. What beauty is there in repetition, (Name)?”

He turned his gaze to you, his brows furrowed and a look upon his face that told you he was pleading for an answer. As a follower of his art for years, you knew he had to have suffered from the ungodly amount of criticism thrown at him, and you had already had a small taste of what he had endured for years. It wasn’t pleasant, to say the very least. You gave a quiet sigh, then laced your fingers together before setting your hands upon your lap.

“I’m honestly not sure, Stefano. People don’t like change… they like things to stick to the norm, and grow anxious when things begin to alter. I suppose that’s why a picture of the same sky we see every day is so pleasing to the masses—they’re used to it. It’s something that’s ‘normal’, and thus makes them feel normal. People aren’t used to seeing blood and death, and so they shame it.”

You heard Stefano give a deep sigh, and he turned his gaze to the floor beneath his feet. You bit your lip as you tried to think of what else to do; you didn’t enjoy seeing him this distraught, you were certain about that. Unsure of what else to do, you scooted yourself across the couch to the cushion beside him, and hesitantly placed a hand upon his shoulder—you felt him tense up slightly at this, but he soon relaxed against your touch.

“If it means anything… I’ll continue fighting for you. I know I’m just one person going against what feels like the world, but dammit I’ll keep doing it. You’re a wonderful artist, Stefano… and people need to recognize that.”

The room was silent for quite some time, and you eventually heard Stefano release a soft breath through his lips. He sat upright, cleared his throat, and then looked in your direction—once more, he had his normal, content expression upon his face. You had to wonder just how much pain he was hiding behind that outward façade, but you knew that you shouldn’t press the issue any further. You grabbed your glass from the coaster upon the table once more, then brought it to your lips to take another sip of the water that it held.

“You know, I must admit that your columns ease the constant criticism that society has thrown upon me, mia cara. Reading them puts my mind at ease, just as your words of praise do. I cannot express my gratitude enough.”

You felt a very faint heat begin to arise within your cheeks, and you knew that it was coming from the fact that Stefano enjoyed reading your columns. After all, you worked hard on them, and if he approved of them, then that was all that mattered. You took yet another drink from your glass, leaving nothing but crystalline cubes of ice left within it now, and then placed it back down upon the table before beginning to speak.

“I’m glad they can bring you happiness, Stefano. Now… how about we try to take you mind off of all those imbeciles, hmm? Care to do a photoshoot with me?”

You would have sworn you saw a spark ignite within Stefano’s eye, and you noticed the smile upon his lips only broadened as he hastily rose to his feet. Seeing how quickly he paced across the room to turn on his photography lights was certainly something to behold—he certainly was enthusiastic whenever it came to doing the thing he loved most. He gestured for you to make your way over to where he currently was, and you willingly did just that. After all, you wished to see him content at the very least, and if allowing him to take photographs of you did that, then you would never refuse.

=2=

Before you knew it, nightfall had already taken hold of the city. You had been so preoccupied with Stefano and his photography that time had seemingly slipped away from the two of you, but you didn’t mind this whatsoever. Of course, you hadn’t spent the entire day doing nothing but taking pictures—after a few hours, the two of you had returned to the living room of his studio and spoke about various things, which included interests that the two of you had (you were quite surprised to learn that Stefano had an affinity for older musicians, such as Doris Day and Frank Sinatra, and that he possessed the ability to play the piano).

Now, however, you were unfortunately about to leave the artist’s abode and begin the journey back to your own apartment. You slipped your coat on over your shoulders, making sure to zip the front of it up before slipping the strap of your bag over your shoulder. Stefano had been kind enough to accompany you to the doorway of his studio, and he stooped over to open the door for you to make your way through it. You thanked him, wished him a good night, and then began to take your leave down the hallway. However, you were stopped by a call of your name, and you turned to see that Stefano had stepped outside his studio and made the short walk to stop in front of you.

“I almost entirely forgot to ask you about this, but do you have any plans for Natale, (Name)?”

You cocked your head slightly, unsure about how to answer his question. After a few moments, Stefano gave a chuckle upon realizing that you weren’t aware of what Natale meant.

“Ah, forgive me. Do you have any plans for Christmas?”

“Oh! Well… Vincent, erm, my best friend, asked me if I wanted to go clubbing that night, but I’m not one for loud places with tons of people. So, I said no. But uh… to directly answer your question, no. I don’t currently have any plans. Why?”

“Well… perhaps you might partake in an evening here at my studio? I could prepare dinner for us, and we could enjoy each other’s company.”

You swallowed hard, your heart suddenly giving several hard thumps within your chest that made it rather difficult to breathe for a moment. You weren’t quite sure why, but you didn’t really care about it at the moment—you were more concerned with the offer that Stefano had made you. Once your body managed to allow you to breathe properly once more, you gave a smile and a quick nod of your head.

“Of course! I’d greatly enjoy an evening like that, Stefano. What time would you like me to come over?”

“Hmm… I believe six should be fine.”

“Alright! I’ll uh… I’ll see you then, Stefano. Have a good night, okay?”

“I shall do my best, (Name). Buona notte, mia cara.”

You gave him a soft smile, then turned around and began to make your way down the hallway towards the elevator. For some reason, you felt extremely giddy, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of happiness the entire way back to your apartment. Whenever you finally did arrive home, you sighed happily and threw your bag down near the entrance, then hung up your coat and flopped down onto the couch with a smile still plastered across your face. You felt silly—you were acting like a teenager that had just met their favorite celebrity, but you were too overjoyed to care. You were going to spend a nice, quiet evening with the artist you admired the most, and that was all that mattered to you.

You grabbed your remote from the table in the center of the room, turning on the television to one of your favorite channels and relaxing against the plush couch beneath you. It wasn’t long before sleep claimed you as its own, the background noise of the television providing you with some vivid, interesting dreams whilst you slept peacefully throughout the night.

=2=

Author’s Note (1): Apologies for the excessive summation throughout the chapter. I promise I’ll make it up in upcoming chapters.

Author’s Note (2): Yes, Stefano’s interests and ability to play the piano are head canons of my own.

Author’s Note (3): Thanks to all of you who have kept up with this story so far. The comments and reviews I have received really warm my heart, and they help me keep going forward with my writing. I love every single one of you, and I’m so glad I have the opportunity to make you guys happy.

[lovelylunarwriting]

College Roommates!GyuHao

College Roommates!GyuHao 

WHAT A PAIR 

Minghao went into college thinking "I just want a roommate that is chill and I'll be fine" 

Mingyu went in thinking "I just want a roommate that won't steal my stuff" 

Both of those wishes were not granted when you put these two together 

Hao: "it's three in the morning, why are you playing mariokart" 

Gyu: "I'm trying to beat every Grand Prix in one day, wanna join?" 

Hao: "why not, it's not like I needed to finish a paper anyway" 

Gyu: "Wait are those my earrings???" 

Hao: "ah I am foreigner, I can't understand" 

Gyu: "so they aRe mY eARRinGs, I thought I lost those!" 

Hao: "well ya lost them now. And the cup, I just blue-shelled your ass" 

Gyu: "I'm so freaking done with you I stg" 

Naw but Mingyu will be doing really random things at late hours, or try to do something very quietly because it's late and then make a huge amount of noise and wake up Minghao 

Minghao is unamused at first but he gets used to it and whenever he hears a giant 'CRASH!' at two in the morning he just thinks "oh Mingyu is probably trying to do a handstand or something" and goes back to sleep 

When they get their morning Starbucks together (because you know they do I will fight someone on this) Minghao is like "hey man. Did you die last night like what happened" 

Mingyu always tells him exactly what he did and it gets more and more ridiculous tbh 

"I tried to do a handstand" (Hao: "I fuckin knEW IT") 

"I thought I could summon Jihoon from a Ouija board but I got freaked out and threw it out the window" 

"I thought I'd take up art and make pottery but the pottery wheel was not only very loud but really hard to use??? So I gave up after five minutes" 

"I misplaced my hairdryer so I tried to use a Bunsen Burner instead and the end of my hair is a lil too toasty is ya catch my drift" 

Hao: "I may or may not have your hairdryer" 

Gyu: "I WOULDN'T HAVE BURNT MY HAIR IF I HAD IT" 

Hao: "NO ONE ASKED YOU TO LIGHT YOURSELF ON FIRE" 

Random Starbucks Employee: "excuse me but could you keep it down, you're disturbing other customers" 

Gyu: "..." 

Hao: "can you believe them, like the audacity to tell us, paying customers, that we're too loud?" 

Gyu: "yeah I know right we weren't even screaming yet" 

Basically it's meaningless (and usually funny) quarrels between each other, but 98% of the time it's them together vs everyone else 

They look out for each other and if a person is talking shit about one of them, the other WILL intervene 

Mingyu would be like "hey that's really mean and here's 3157 reasons why Minghao's great" until the person gets bored or loses interest and leaves. Or they get shook by Mingyu towering over them and nope out. 

Minghao would be more like "if I ever hear you talking shit about Mingyu again, I'll kick your ass so badly that you won't be able to physically speak ever again" *person runs away, grabs their passport and flees the country* 

So even though Mingyu is a curious yet clumsy giant and Minghao borrows things without asking, they end up getting over these differences and become the best of friends 

Mingyu, being a culinary major, is always in the communal kitchen making something because boy can EAT 

Minghao is totally okay with this because free food for him. And he doesn't have to live off ramen forever like the rest of the kids on campus 

But like if people know Mingyu is gonna cook, they flock to him because he can't say no if they ask him for some bc "wow someone wants my cooking, I'm so flattered" 

And Minghao is like "bro they just want an easy meal" but Mingyu is not discouraged by reality 

These two still want a majority of the food for themselves though so they sneak down to the communal kitchen either really late at night or deadass early in the morning and make mass quantities of food to last them the next handful of days 

Mingyu usually does all the cooking (and insists that he should because it'll taste better), but Minghao always comes with him because he's worried about Mingyu being by himself when no one else is around 

Like Minghao knows that Mingyu is clumsy and what if he decides to do a headstand, and instead of knocking over their bookshelf like last time, he breaks his neck? Minghao's thinking "if he wants to do something dumb I can at least stunt him and/or call an ambulance immediately after" 

But one time Mingyu is like "shit I forgot the <random ingredient>, I'll go run to a convenience store. Watch the rice" 

And Minghao does watch the rice, but Vernon sent him a snapchat of Hoshi drunkenly doing a cartwheel into one of the campus fountains and Minghao was like "I bet his snap story is full of Hoshi doing embarrassing things- blackmail collection time" 

So he watched his phone. And not the rice. 

He didn't even realize it was burning until the smoke detectors went off. VERY loudly. Across the whole building :') 

He's thinking "shitshitshit everyone in this dorm is gonna hate me" so he runs outside and hides behind a random bush 

All the people in this particular dorm are groggily shuffling out of the building and wondering who is to blame 

Because let's be real, 9/10 times when smoke detectors go off, there's no fire. It's either someone curling their hair and the steam sets it off, someone vaping, or someone burning food. 

Mingyu comes back after the majority of the residents of their dorm are outside and he's just like "fiRE!? Where's Minghao?!?" 

He power walks through the crowd looking for Minghao until he finds DK and is like "bro wtf is going on??? is there a fire??? have you seen a skinny Chinese man anywhere??? Why are you smiling at 3 am under these circumstances???" 

DK is like 1.) someone burnt food, idk who tf was cooking •and Mingyu is both relieved because at least Minghao isn't dying in a fire right now but also its pretty much their fault. But DK continues. 

DK: "two- there's no actual fire from the food burning, Seungcheol put it out with a fire extinguisher. three- I haven't seen Minghao but if you want someone to help you look, Jihoon's your guy. He's ridiculously observant. And four- have you seen Vernon's Snapchat story?? Lmao look at naega hosh vs the school fountain" 

Mingyu watches the video of Hoshi cartwheeling into a fountain and is only comforted a little because he just wants to find his best friend 

Mingyu is a lil intimidated by Jihoon because Jihoon has constant resting bitch face and an aura of "I'm tired and don't want to be bothered by anyone" 

But he goes up to Jihoon and is like "plz halp I can't find my wife" -and Jihoon is like "your wife???? Is that supposed to be Minghao?? Okay let's go look" 

It takes Jihoon a hot second to find Minghao crouched under a random bush, and to notice Mingyu with a bag of ingredients 

Jihoon puts the pieces together and drags Minghao out of the bush and takes them both by the ear, dragging them up the front steps of the building so that everyone huddled outside can see them 

Jihoon: "these are the assholes that set off the smoke alarms. I have a 6 a.m. class and I'm sure you all are peeved about this so to make up for it, these two are going to buy everyone coffee in the morning" 

*Half hearted screams and cheers from the crowd of tired students* 

Seungcheol the RA is like. "Not really sure if we can enforce this but I'm all for peer pressure so everyone write down their orders of what they want from Starbucks" 

And that's exactly what everyone does and Mingyu and Minghao end up paying like 3-4 hours later that morning 

Minghao may or may not have spit in Jihoon's coffee while no one was watching 

After this fiasco they've learned that when they cook at unreasonable times in the morning or really late at night, they should never leave Minghao to take care of the food 

•Mingyu makes him chop the vegetables as punishment but then lectures him for doing it wrong and ends up taking over and just doing it himself 

This dynamic duo seems like they should be completely dysfunctional but they have a lot of fun, even if it's complete chaos

[bleusarcellewrites]

It Might Be Nice // Part 2

Lmao, this took a long ass time but like ??? I didn’t even think it was going to have a second partso, yah. 

Here’s part one: http://bleusarcelle.tumblr.com/post/158130830599/it-might-be-nice-part-1

And, that’s it! It’s seems like Lance died but like...psssh, he...he’s sleeping, kay? Yah... btw LONG. POST. Translations: Ae-in (Sweetheart), Amor (Love) 

Disclaimer: Voltron doesn’t belong to me. 

One, two, three blinks and then –

Lance’s eyes stay closed.

“No.” Keith whispers horrified, his hand aimlessly patting the glass powerless, “No, no, no, no, no. Lance, please, no.”

There’s nothing at all. There’s no flutter of eyelids or a steady breathing or even a twitch.

There’s nothing but a ghost smile in those pale half parted lips.

“L-Lance.” He chokes out weakly, barely acknowledging the tears running down his face, “Ae-in?”

Lance just sits there, body heavily pressed against the glass, right in front of Keith, mouth frozen in a permanent silent sigh and Keith snaps.

“No!” He screams, “No, no, no! Lance! I-I love –! Lance, please! Come back! Come back, please! I-I didn’t –!” Keith’s voice breaks, words still falling out of his mouth without his consent, “I love you too! Please! I didn’t get the chance to –! Don’t do this, please!  I’m begging you! Lance!”

This can’t be happening. Keith thinks as his fist pounds at the glass that block his way to get to the brunet. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. This can’t be –

“Please, please, please, break. Break goddamnit, please!” He shouts, standing up  and activating his bayard, not hesitating a tick before he’s lashing and stabbing the glass, “Break, break. Please, please – BREAK!”

It doesn’t and Keith can only slash out at the damn glass over and over again. His vision gets blurry as more tears keep gathering in his eyes and suddenly there’s no air in his lungs and he can’t breath, he can’t hear, he can’t - he can’t –

“No!” He yells as soon as someone grabs him from behind and pulls him away, “No! Get off of me! Get off –! Lance! Lance, please! No!”

Lance’s figure just keeps getting further and further away from him. He’s basically slipping through his finger and he can’t do a damn thing.

“S-Stop.” Keith sobs out desperately, dropping his entire body in defeat against the strong hold he’s trapped in, “S-stop, p-please, I-I can’t–I didn’t tell him –!”

Faint black spots start appearing in his vision. He tips to the side exhausted as he look straight into the only blurry blue dot he can see.

“L-Lance.” He whispers brokenly, “L-Lan –”

Keith hears the sound of something shattering as he loses conscience but he’s just not sure on what exactly.

Must have been his heart.

Keith drops his head back against the control panel as he stares at the unmoving figure of his boyfriend in front of him inside the crypod.

The soft and faint heart beat that comes from it echoes in his ear and Keith can barely see the rise of Lance’s chest from where he sits.

Two weeks. It’s been two weeks since Keith last heard Lance’s voice, since he seen his smile or the baby blue color in his eyes.

The mere thought of them makes him feel dizzy. It’s either that or the untouched plate of food goo Hunk had brought him earlier that lays besides him, still wobbling under the slightest rumble on the floor. Keith pushes it further away from him.

It doesn’t help in the least.

Keith fingers play with the end of the blanket Shiro had left behind for him last night, right after he gave up on trying to get him to sleep in an actual room for once.

His older brother hasn’t looked amused in the least but he had looked worried enough. He left the blanket and a pillow for him, saying that if he wasn’t going to leave the room, he might as well be comfortable enough while he waited for Lance to wake up.

If he wakes up.

Keith suppresses the shiver that goes down his spine at the thought before he shakes his head. Allura had said he will be waking up, she told him so.

‘The toxin needs to leave his body, it's a long slow process,’ She had said as soon as he had walked into the Med Bay, ‘But he’s strong enough, Keith. He can get through this.’

‘I know he is.’ He thinks as the memory flashes through his head, “I know he can. He has to. I have to tell him. Please.’

He pushes himself forward and walks slowly towards Lance’s crypod, hand hesitantly hovering above its surface before he places it gently just above where Lance’s chest is.

“You didn’t hear me.” He whispers hoarsely, his red eyes blinking tiredly and raising his free hand shakily to rub the grogginess away, “You didn’t hear me and –”

The crypod beeps at him and Keith sighs, letting his forehead rest against the cool surface.

“Please, give me a chance to tell you.”

Keith jolts wide awake as soon as the cold air of the crypod hits him a few feet away from him. He shivers unconsciously before he looks up and catches the blurry vision of a soft blue.

He don’t waste a tick and suddenly he’s standing up from the floor, almost tripping on his own two feet before he gathers Lance's limp body falling out of the crypod.

He waits in silence. He waits and waits, his shaky hands just tightening their hold on around Lance and then there’s a soft whisper against his ear and Keith’s heart skips a beat at the word.

“A-amor?”

That’s enough for Keith to break down.

“L-Lance.” He calls back, lip quivering before he tries to bite it down with force.

Lance just hums, pushing himself deeper into Keith’s embrace as he nuzzles his face against Keith’s neck.

“It's okay.” He whispers softly and Keith can feel Lance’s small smile against his skin, “It's okay.”

“O-Oh, God, L-Lance.” Keith repeats, a sob escaping from his mouth and Lance shushes him quietly.

The end up in the floor, turning into a mess of limbs and bodies tangled up together as they just hold each other as humanly possible.

Keith buries his face on Lance’s hair, stuffing in his sobs as he holds Lance in his arms and yet feeling like he’s the one being held and comforted when Lance’s just keep rubbing small circles on his back.

“I-I h-have –” Keith whispers, breath hitching abruptly making him cough and shakes his head stubbornly when Lance mumbles to take it easy, “N-No, I-I have to – I have to tell you, I –”

“I know, Keith.” Lance says, voice small and hoarse after days of being unused, “I-I know.”

“N-No, L-Lance, p-please, I have – I lost you and I d-didn't get a c-chance – F-fuck!” Keith curses, sobs shaking his entire body, “F-Fuck, I can’t lose y-you again I –”

“You won’t.” Lance reassurances, his voice wet and wobbly with emotion, one of his hands stroking Keith's hair, “You won’t, you won’t, I swear to you, y-you won’t lose me.”

“But I did!” Keith bawls, “I did, Lance! I lost you and I-I’m not strong enough. G-God, Lance, I lost you, I-I can’t –”

“Sh.” Lance cuts him off gently,“Sh, Keith, baby, please, listen to me. Please, please, listen to my heartbeat, my voice, my breathing. Please, listen.”

Keith does. He bites down his sobs, dropping his head until he’s snuggling against Lance’s chest and then he listens.

The heartbeat is so strong and steady, only flattering for a millisecond when Keith places his hand over Lance’s chest. His breathing is controlled and Keith can practically feel the way Lance’s lungs fill themselves up with fresh air before letting it all out slowly.

He listens to Lance’s voice above him as the brunet keeps humming. He listens to the way it cracks and shakes but it’s so warm and fond that it almost feels like a blanket it’s being wrapped around him.

Keith smiles. He smiles through the tears and nuzzles his face on his boyfriend chest as he feels his own breathing imitating the strong steady one of Lance’s and then he hiccups softly before sighing, feeling a soft but firm kiss on the top of his head.

“There you go, amor.” Lance praises softly, “Nice and steady.”

Keith wants to snort at the praise but he ends up just chuckling tiredly against his boyfriend.

He takes a moment to remind himself. To feel and reassure himself that Lance’s alive and here with him. That he’s in Lance’s strong arms and warm embrace.

That this is his strong heart that beats rhythmically along his own.

“I love you too” Keith whispers and smiles when he feels the way Lance’s breath hitches in surprise, “I love you, I love you.”

A pause and then he’s raising his face to meet his boyfriend’s eyes and his smile just grows wider and happier when he catches the blue color in them.

“I love you too.” Keith repeats quietly against Lance’s lips, for only the two of them to hear and he feels Lance’s smile back as soon as their lips touch.

Lance doesn't have a chance to say it back, but that’s okay.

Keith can feel the words in the way Lance’s lips move against his own, in the way he pushes his mouth further into Keith’s and breaths in every gasp black haired teen makes. Even in the way Lance’s hands cups his cheeks and caress them gently with his thumbs as he pulls him closer.

It’s enough for both of them.

[beatconductor-blog]

Last Monday at 5:59 AM

circuitryme he told me he loves me, i am emotional and gay.

beatconductor oh fuck congrats

Yesterday at 12:44 PM

beatconductor you barely even felt him up Yesterday at 6:56 PM

circuitryme that changed, trust me.

beatconductor felt him up a lot huh

circuitryme correct.

beatconductor congrats was it hot

circuitryme very.

circuitryme i'm still trying to decide if it was a bad idea or not.

beatconductor it would be a complicated mess either way wouldnt it

circuitryme yeah. i'm questioning whether or not it was morally wrong though. as a human he can give consent but also he thinks we're married so does that still count as consent.

beatconductor first of all youre asking a guy with some of the most skewed morals ever but afaik being married doesnt mean totally relieved of all matters of giving consent and feelings

circuitryme no i just mean. of course he's going to trust me with something like this. he thinks we're married.

beatconductor idk man i mean he was really attached to you before

beatconductor and he said he loves you right

circuitryme yeah.

beatconductor i mean you could try explaining the whole deal to him but that just sounds like an even bigger mess and does he really need to deal with that

circuitryme yeah, that's. probably not a good idea. someone spilled that he's actually a robot and he had a panic attack.

beatconductor yeah see listen waking up from amnesia to find out theyre married to some hot caring twink is so many peoples wettest dream youre fine alright

circuitryme oh my god.

beatconductor just tellin how it is

circuitryme you think i'm hot. i'm flattered.

beatconductor is that really whatcha gonna focus on now yw

circuitryme yes it is.

beatconductor well its tru and with all the fuss over him that you make hed have fallen for you either way i bet on it

circuitryme ...

circuitryme you think so?

beatconductor look i wouldnt say that if i dont mean it

circuitryme thanks, dave.

beatconductor uh no problem

circuitryme gaylord.

beatconductor anytime

circuitryme right back atcha.

beatconductor oh no you turn down your gaylord meter right this second

circuitryme i am unable to do so.

circuitryme either accept my affections or drown in them.

beatconductor shit rip me

circuitryme i can't believe you'd rather drown than be gay with me. fuck you, pal.

beatconductor hey i didnt say that

circuitryme i'm squinting at you.

beatconductor what ok what if i accept to drown in your affections

circuitryme what. but that's both options.

beatconductor exactly didnt expect that huh

circuitryme i did not. also that's gayer.

beatconductor fuck

circuitryme you did this to yourself

beatconductor i know and thats the worst part

circuitryme so what's happening here, are you accepting or drowning in my affections. or the gayer choice of both.

beatconductor geez idk im a masochist so im picking whichever option is worse

circuitryme leave your shitty kinks out of my pure innocent love for you, jackass.

beatconductor holy shit i meant it in an absolutely platonic and self-depreciating sense but if you wanna be like this

circuitryme unbelievable.

beatconductor im a gaylord yeah youre a gaylord yeah were all gaylords yeah

circuitryme bye. wait i have a question thats pretty unrelated.

beatconductor i feel accomplished

circuitryme does someone have an icon that matches yours because.

beatconductor oh all of a sudden

circuitryme if not, you're missing the opportunity to have hi-fiving icons with someone.

beatconductor holy shit youre right

circuitryme or maybe that'd be considered a mid-five. all i'm saying is, don't waste this opportunity.

beatconductor well i doubt it since its really just a cropped fanart of myself by my wonderful talented pussy gf

circuitryme nice. but also consider: doing that.

beatconductor http://beatconductor.tumblr.com/post/154201976381/catnipin-33-beatconductor-i-made-an-even considering now doing that next

circuitryme nice.

circuitryme who are you going to match with.

beatconductor fuck idk

circuitryme lmao.

beatconductor should i open auditions for that

circuitryme maybe so.

beatconductor "why do you deserve to high five me"

circuitryme "because you owe me one anyway" done, there's my audition.

beatconductor damn it

circuitryme remember. from when i got my human body back.

beatconductor vaguely do you think i keep track of all the high fives i owe people

circuitryme i'm insulted.

beatconductor im a busy man (no i remember that alright)

circuitryme sent a post beatconductor: no headaches? fu... http://beatconductor.tumblr.com/post/155505278306/circuitryme-beatconductor-no-headaches ...i hunted it down and everything. and you were just playin me. i am hurt.

beatconductor oh my god

beatconductor youre incredible alright youll get two high fives just for that

circuitryme holy shit. how about i get the matching icon and we call it even.

beatconductor itd be weird to see you with anything but that weird ominous glowing scifi eye well ill see what i can do

circuitryme yeah, but technically that sci-fi eye is out of character for me now.

beatconductor should get a close up of your real eye now

circuitryme ugh. no.

beatconductor lmao i mean i feel you

circuitryme besides, which eye. the red one or the orange one

beatconductor uh well im biased af cause i like red

circuitryme fair enough. either way it doesn't matter because i'm not gonna do it.

beatconductor it was a joke anyway

circuitryme i know.