#ignore that part because its easier to

[elliebell77]

thinking about. maybe an au or something where dream just has a little bit of a sadistic streak in him (NOT SEXUAL). like i think it would be so interesting if he took just a little bit of delight in feeling someone else’s negative emotions, because of him. like taking control back for himself, defying the role of guardian forced upon him by things outside his control.

and maybe he feels awful about it. like i like to imagine him being just a little bit intimidating sometimes, and feeling everyone’s anxiety and taking joy in it for a second before catching himself and suddenly being crushed with guilt at the thought of breaking the rules, even indirectly, by causing negativity instead of warding it off.

anyway. no wonder shattered dream exists lmao

[myoonmii]

I keep thinking about Merlin’s love for Arthur and how it’s so clearly portrayed in the show to the point that it practically drives the plot of the show. However when it comes to Arthur’s love for Merlin it’s more subtle and sometimes difficult to even grasp, and I started thinking why that was, aside from the obvious fact that Arthur has a lot of trouble expressing his emotions affection or otherwise. I think it also lies in the fact that Merlin knows Arthur intrinsically throughout the show; he is one of the closest people to Arthur, and sees him for who he really is. Arthur admits as much.

Sure, Arthur knows Merlin but the main part of the plot is that he really doesn't know Merlin. Merlin wants him to desperately understand him and “see me for who I am” but he can't yet. And I think this subconsciously creates a barrier in the way in which Arthur can care for Merlin, and how Merlin can let himself be seen by Arthur.

Which is why I think he was also so hurt when the magic reveal happens because more than the betrayal of Merlin having magic, it was the betrayal of Merlin not letting Arthur see him for who he really is and for hiding a main part of himself. Arthur says it himself “why did you never tell me” that’s what hurt him the most.

I think the most damning piece of evidence for this is the fact that while we see snippets of Arthur’s feelings for Merlin thought the show, the biggest signs are in the last episode after the magic reveal; in which he finally gets to understand Merlin, and this time REALLY know Merlin, and as the barriers of what held them back from understanding each other truly fall away, Arthur evidently “falls in love with Merlin all over again”. We see him actually express himself to Merlin.

This is another reason why I think if anyone was ever to create another season of Merlin after Arthur’s return, it’s physically impossible not to make it about Merlin and Arthur acknowledging their feelings for each other. Because there is no way forward without them acknowledging how deeply they care for each other, obviously anyone is free to argue what kind of love that is, but its impossible not to see the deep love there either way.

They always knew they loved each other, just maybe never realising how much and what that means, because its almost second nature to everything that they do.

[frenchy-and-the-sea]

There is a very exquisite agony in playing a game you love so so so so so much, and realizing that one of the other players is trying to play a totally different game than you.

[amethystina]

The Devil’s Due - Chapter 1 (?)

TW: Mild self harm, mentions of violence, mentions of suicide

—

"Defendant."

Ga On stared down at his tightly clasped hands, the whiteness of his knuckles standing in stark contrast to the bruises and barely scabbed-over scratches surrounding them. His skin was itching, restlessness humming just underneath the surface — loud, buzzing, and insistent. Keeping his fingers laced together was the only way to stop himself from picking at the wounds.

He'd forgotten himself twice already, blood beading on the knuckles of his left hand. Ga On couldn't help staring at the little dots of crimson, glinting in the harsh sunlight slanting in from the high windows.

His leg bounced up and down, his shoulders stiff with tension.

"Defendant."

Ga On swallowed and forced himself to look up. His heart was hammering, the bitter taste of nausea thick at the back of his throat. It took several seconds before his gaze was able to rise high enough to actually meet that of the judge, Ga On's stomach bottoming out as the gravity of the situation hit him full force.

He should have known he'd end up here eventually. Professor Min had warned him, more than once, but Ga On had been too arrogant — too reckless and stupid — to listen.

He only had himself to blame.

"Are we boring you, defendant?" the judge asked, his tone flat with disapproval.

Ga On swallowed again, his throat tight, and shook his head.

"No, your honor."

The judge regarded Ga On for a couple of beats, his gaze unnervingly sharp — downright intrusive. Ga On felt like he was being picked apart, forced to bend and unravel, all at once, until nothing but the bare bones remained.

Until everything had been laid bare, leaving him exposed and defenseless.

Ga On forced himself not to squirm but, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't maintain eye contact. His gaze fell, settling instead on the nameplate propped up in front of the judge. He could still remember the concerned wrinkle that had appeared between Professor Min's eyebrows when he'd heard what judge would be presiding over Ga On's trial.

Judge Kang was relatively new to the position, Professor Min had explained, but had already made a name for himself as someone who judged with calm yet ruthless precision. He was rational, firm, and was never swayed by his emotions, immune to both pleas and bargaining.

He judged solely based on the law.

A heartless man, Professor Min had said.

Immovable.

And, from what little Ga On had seen, he had to agree. Despite his young age, Judge Kang carried himself with the confidence of someone much older — someone who commanded attention and demanded obedience with his mere existence. That had been obvious the moment Judge Kang had stepped inside the courtroom, a shift going through the air, everything sharpening — heightening — at his arrival.

A man like that had no reason to negotiate or compromise.

He didn't have to.

"How did you get those bruises on your face, defendant?"

Ga On looked down at his hands again, his fingers clenching tighter, until he could feel his bones grind.

"A fight at school."

The silence that hung over the room was deafening and, as uncomfortable as that made him, Ga On still preferred that over the alternative. He would have felt even worse if he'd been forced to listen to Soo Hyun choke back sobs from the spectator seats somewhere behind him.

He was glad he'd been able to convince her not to come.

Professor Min had insisted, however, perhaps feeling guilty that he hadn't been able to stop the trial from happening. He'd always been able to before, smoothing over ruffled feathers and promising the police to keep Ga On out of trouble. Perhaps Ga On had taken that for granted — some part of him might have assumed that, no matter what he did, Professor Min would always find a way to bail him out.

Except this time, it seemed — though not for lack of trying.

And Ga On didn't blame Professor Min for that. This was Ga On's fault. It was his own recklessness that had gotten him into this situation and he shouldn't expect anyone else to get him out of it.

He could admit he was scared, though — outright terrified.

Destruction of property and assault might not be the worst offenses one could be charged with, but they had the potential to ruin his life regardless. A tough judge might give him prison time. And prison time meant he'd be marked as a felon for the rest of his life. He wouldn't be able to get a proper job and might even have a hard time finding a place to live, since no one wanted a convicted criminal as their neighbor.

Ga On should have listened to Professor Min. He should have been more careful.

He just felt so incredibly pathetic.

Soo Hyun had stopped him from committing murder, only for him to go down for assault and something as stupid as hitting a parked car with his motorcycle. It wasn't even his bike that had caused the most damage — he had, when he'd gotten thrown off and slammed against the hood and windshield.

Ga On's shoulder had been throbbing for days afterward but, miraculously, he'd come out of it relatively unscathed. Perhaps because he hadn't been driving all that fast when he'd taken the turn.

Judge Kang let out a low hum.

"Not from the plaintiff?" he asked. Ga On wasn't sure if he'd ever heard someone's voice sound so flat. It would have been fascinating if it hadn't also been so unsettling. "Did Jung Hyun Woo cause any of those bruises?"

Ga On made sure not to look at the plaintiff in question, instead glancing to his right, meeting the gaze of his lawyer. He didn't really know the woman — she was some acquaintance of Professor Min's who had agreed to help, free of charge — but she'd been surprisingly kind and understanding so far. To the point where Ga On could almost ignore the pitying looks she gave him when she thought he wasn't looking. Those definitely made his hackles rise, but he supposed he couldn't blame her.

He must look pretty pitiful to her.

Lawyer Yeo gave a small nod, wordlessly urging him to answer the question.

Ga On only managed to lift his gaze to Judge Kang's nameplate rather than the man himself.

"No," he replied, voice hoarse. "He tried but never actually hit me."

That was something Ga On had been viciously proud of at the time, but probably didn't put him in a very good light now, while sitting in a courtroom being questioned about the crime in question. Then again, what would? He knew that, to everyone in this room — save Professor Min — he was nothing more than a reckless, violent young man who'd destroyed someone's car and then beaten the owner of said car when he'd been confronted about it.

Ga On had known he shouldn't — even as he'd taken the first swing — but he simply hadn't been able to stop himself. Perhaps because he'd seen the brand of the car — much too expensive for the kind of neighborhood they were in — or perhaps it was the way the rich guy had talked to him afterward. The arrogance and contempt in Jung Hyun Woo's voice when he'd threatened to beat the shit out of Ga On for what he'd done.

Perhaps Ga On had just been too angry — high on adrenaline, pain, and grief.

Either way, Ga On had decided to punch first. If the guy wanted a fight, Ga On would give him one.

Except the rich brat, only a couple of years older than Ga On, had been more bark than bite, too stunned to do much after the first punch had landed. Jung Hyun Woo had clearly never been in a fight in his entire life — probably never even been hit before.

Perhaps not even felt real pain before that moment.

And, somehow, that had only made Ga On angrier, his blows coming faster, harder, out of the sheer unfairness of it all. For a brief, frightening moment, Ga On had wanted nothing more than to transfer all of his pain and suffering onto that spoiled rich kid, through whatever means necessary.

He'd stopped only because some people had come out of a nearby doorway, interrupting him mid-swing.

In hindsight, Ga On was grateful for that, since he was honestly scared of what kind of damage he might otherwise have caused. As it were, he'd landed a couple of blows — enough to break Jung Hyun Woo's nose judging by the bruises and bandage he was still sporting — but not enough to require a longer hospital stay.

That was still bad, though, and Ga On was horrified by his own actions.

He hadn't been able to look Soo Hyun in the eye once since that night.

"Are you proud of yourself, defendant?"

Ga On stiffened, his breath catching. He blinked — once, twice — before slowly looking up. Judge Kang's gaze was just as cool as before, but there was a spark of something else hidden just underneath the surface. Ga On couldn't quite name what that something might be, nor if it was good or bad.

"W-what?" Ga On stuttered out.

Even if Judge Kang didn't raise his voice, it still seemed to fill every millimeter of available space within the room.

"I asked if you are proud of yourself."

Ga On was too surprised to respond at first. And, quite frankly, the answer should be obvious.

What sane person would be proud of themselves in his position?

Eventually, after far too many seconds had passed, he shook his head. He felt a twist of regret, knowing just how little that admission mattered.

It was too late now anyway.

"No," he whispered.

Judge Kang let out another low hum, leafing through what Ga On assumed had to be his case file. He couldn't quite tell from this angle.

"And what about your parents?" Judge Kang asked, his gaze rising yet again, pinning Ga On in place. "Do you think they're proud of you?"

It felt like being kicked in the chest, all the air being pushed out of Ga On's lungs.

He couldn't breathe, the grief blooming too fiercely and taking up too much space to leave room for anything else. A chill settled underneath his skin, numbing him from the inside out, sinking its claws into flesh and bone — until he could think of nothing but the dark, festering sorrow. Nothing but the grief. Nothing but the pain.

It had been over a year, but he was still an empty shell, carved out and left hollow.

The only emotion capable of filling that hole, if only for a little while, was anger.

"I didn't think so."

Ga On could barely hear Judge Kang's words over the ringing in his ears. The nausea was growing stronger, the room swaying even if Ga On was sitting down. Tears burned and, in a desperate attempt to distract himself, Ga On dug his fingernails into the backs of his hands. He could feel them catching on his scabs, some no doubt tearing, but that pain was nothing compared to the breathtaking agony washing over him.

Of course his parents wouldn't be proud of him.

At the same time, Ga On also felt a flash of fierce, selfish anger. Why should his parents' opinion matter? They were no longer there — they'd left him, all alone, to fend for himself. What right did they have to judge him when he was the one forced to live without them?

The rush of guilt that followed those thoughts was shamefully familiar, causing a lump to lodge inside Ga On's throat. He still couldn't breathe, emotions choking him.

Perhaps going to prison was what he deserved for being so angry and selfish. Always causing trouble. Always making Soo Hyun worry. Always forcing Professor Min to fix his problems.

"Do you understand the severity of your crimes?" Judge Kang asked.

Ga On swallowed and, despite the tightness in his chest — and the impending lightheadedness — was able to nod.

"Answer verbally, defendant." The command felt like a physical weight settling on Ga On's shoulders. "It's needed for the record."

Ga On squeezed his eyes shut, nails digging even deeper into his skin.

"Yes," he croaked.

"And have you been informed of the level of punishment you might receive for said crimes?"

It took everything Ga On had not to just nod. He had no idea why Judge Kang was asking him all these questions, but he also knew he was in no position to refuse to answer them. That would only make his situation worse.

"Yes."

"So you realize that you might very well have thrown your entire life away simply because you couldn't control your temper?"

Ga On couldn't open his eyes, the fear and regret spreading through his veins, cold and biting.

He could only imagine the face Professor Min was making in that moment. Ga On had been warned, so many times, but had never paid enough attention. He shouldn't have been so stubborn.

He should have listened.

"Defendant?"

There was a barely stifled snicker from somewhere to Ga On's left. He didn't have to look up to know where it came from — the smug superiority made it obvious. The rich brat was clearly enjoying himself.

Ga On gritted his teeth and pushed himself to speak, desperately hoping his voice wouldn't break.

"Yes." His breath shook. "I'm aware."

A silence settled over the room, tense and oppressive. It felt almost like a living entity, pushing down on Ga On, making him want to curl up and hide. His heart was racing, each beat pushing painfully against his ribs, but that still hurt less than the knowledge of what he'd done. Of how stupid he'd been.

He'd ruined everything — not just for himself, but for Soo Hyun and Professor Min as well.

Soo Hyun would be absolutely devastated.

Judge Kang let out another one of those low hums.

A shift went through the air.

"Hypothetically speaking, if you were given a second chance, would you take it?"

Ga On froze, everything stilling for a second.

Had he heard that correctly? The words themselves weren't all that odd — Judge Kang was clearly gearing up for a lecture of some sort — but the tone certainly was. For the first time since he'd stepped inside the courtroom, there was an emotion other than disapproval in Judge Kang's voice.

He sounded curious.

Ga On looked up, equal parts confused and surprised.

"What?" he whispered.

When their gazes locked, the intensity in Judge Kang's eyes was nothing short of unsettling. Ga On held his breath, a chill traveling down his spine, even as he felt an odd thrill of hope. Not so much because of the question he'd been asked, but rather the look on Judge Kang's face.

The man was still undeniably intimidating with his black robe and artfully styled hair — every little detail immaculate — but there was a slight quirk to his lips now. A hint of humanity that was both startling and strangely captivating.

As if suddenly being shown the man behind the stern façade.

"If you were given a second chance, would you make sure to actually do something with your life?" Judge Kang tilted his head to the side, which made him look even younger — almost playful. "And promise not to make the same stupid mistake again?"

Ga On sat staring in stunned silence, not quite sure what was going on.

Neither was anyone else, it would seem. Ga On could hear hushed whispers behind himself and, in his peripheral, saw Jung Hyun Woo lean over to whisper something to his lawyer. Even the other two judges sitting on each side of Judge Kang were giving him bewildered glances.

The confusion in the room was palpable.

Because while those questions weren't entirely unexpected, the way they were said — the way Judge Kang phrased them — made them seem like something more.

Like an offer of salvation.

"Would you treasure that second chance, Kim Ga On?" Judge Kang asked, a calculating glint in his eyes. "Hypothetically speaking, of course."

Despite knowing he was probably being tricked — or goaded, somehow — Ga On couldn't help the desperate surge of hope.

"Yes," he replied. "Yes, I would."

He held Judge Kang's gaze, the fear slowly trickling away, leaving nothing but determined conviction in its wake. If Ga On got a second chance, he wouldn't waste it. He would stop being so reckless. He would stop making Soo Hyun cry, time and time again. He'd make Professor Min proud.

He knew it would be hard, rage and grief still whirling inside of him — even now — but it wasn't worth his future. It wasn't worth causing the few people he had left to love this much pain.

He would cherish that second chance. He'd make it count.

"You would promise to do better?" Judge Kang asked. He sounded amused, with an undercurrent of gentle encouragement that was both soothing and terribly disorienting.

"Your honor, what are you—"

Judge Kang held up a hand and Jung Hyun Woo's lawyer cut himself off mid-sentence. Judge Kang still hadn't broken eye contact, his attention not wavering in the slightest — still focused solely on Ga On.

The intensity was almost too much, Ga On's heart giving a nervous flutter inside his chest.

Judge Kang lowered his hand, the room deafeningly silent, no one daring to move or speak. Ga On swallowed, trying to draw breath despite the dryness of his throat and tightness in his lungs.

"You would promise to do better?" Judge Kang repeated, lower now — smooth and cajoling in a way that sent a jolt of something down Ga On's spine.

The question sounded dangerous all of a sudden, as if Ga On was about to enter a binding contract of some sort — one he didn't even know the terms and conditions of, but also couldn't afford to say no to.

He didn't want to go to prison. He didn't want this stupid mistake to ruin his entire future.

At that point, Ga On would be willing to make a deal with the devil if he so had to, let alone the supposedly heartless judge in front of him.

"Yes."

Ga On couldn't quite decipher the look on Judge Kang's face, but he seemed pleased with the answer.

"Are you sure?"

Ga On nodded, jaw clenching. "Yes, I'm sure."

He'd spent the past year making things difficult for Soo Hyun and Professor Min, too dumb to listen to their warnings. Nor had he considered the consequences. He thought he had, telling himself he was prepared to face his punishment, should he ever get caught. Some part of him might even have hoped he would, so self-destructive that he wanted someone — anyone — to just end his suffering.

But he'd clearly been lying to himself.

He didn't want this.

Somehow, this trial, the possibility of going to prison, and the thought of ruining his chances for a future was more frightening than his suicide attempt. Bizarrely, it felt more severe — like a slow, drawn-out punishment as opposed to the quick, sudden end dying would be. And, right now, he wanted neither.

He didn't like what he'd become.

And, if he got the chance to try again, he wouldn't take it for granted.

A couple of seconds passed, Judge Kang scrutinizing Ga On with that unnerving intensity of his — as if trying to assess his honesty. Whatever answers he found must have been to his liking since he soon gave a small nod.

"Very good."

An unexpected shiver traveled down Ga On's spine and he wasn't entirely sure what to attribute that to — Judge Kang's odd line of questioning or the overall weirdness of the situation.

Ga On was unsure of what any of this meant, his heart thundering away inside the tight confines of his ribcage. He didn't dare to glance at his lawyer again, worried that this would all end the moment he looked away from Judge Kang. As if he might lose whatever imagined chance at freedom this confounding man was maybe offering.

It was Judge Kang who eventually broke eye contact.

Without a word — or explanation of any kind — Judge Kang looked back down at his papers and made a couple of notes. A wave of coldness washed over Ga On, the faint flare of hope flickering, struggling against the sudden onslaught of doubt.

Hadn't Ga On given Judge Kang what he wanted?

Was this all just a trick of some kind?

No one seemed to know, a low murmur of confusion spreading throughout the room. Ga On chanced a glance at Lawyer Yeo, but she seemed just as unsure — though she made enough effort to give him a comforting smile when she noticed him looking. Ga On couldn't bring himself to smile back, feeling too nervous and off-kilter, but she didn't seem to hold that against him.

Jung Hyun Woo's lawyer — Hwang something, if Ga On remembered correctly — was the one who eventually broke the silence, a thread of frustration in his voice.

"Your honor, what's the meaning of this? My client is a busy man and we can't—"

"Then let's continue," Judge Kang interrupted, looking up from his papers as if nothing had happened — as if he wasn't the cause for the delay in the first place. "We wouldn't want to inconvenience your client."

While Judge Kang's tone was perfectly civil — polite, even — Ga On somehow knew that last part had been an insult, not a sign of deference.

Lawyer Hwang seemed to notice as well, his expression souring. But, before he had time to do more than open his mouth — no doubt intending to protest on his client's behalf — Judge Kang crooked a finger, wordlessly signaling for the lawyer to step closer. The gesture looked utterly misplaced within a courtroom and Lawyer Hwang didn't seem to know how to react.

A beat passed without anything happening.

Then, ever so calmly, Judge Kang raised a single eyebrow. Lawyer Hwang stiffened but eventually pushed himself up from his chair and approached the bench. His hesitation was visible in the slowness of his steps and the tight line of his shoulders. He even glanced at the rest of the room, as if to confirm that he wasn't the only one seeing this.

Ga On wasn't even sure what 'this' was, but he couldn't deny that he was mesmerized. He'd never seen anyone take command so effortlessly before and while some part of him should probably feel wary — if not outright frightened — there was another that was undeniably fascinated.

With nothing more than a look and a simple hand gesture, Judge Kang could make a man do exactly as he asked — even one several years his senior, by the looks of things.

Ga On felt that odd, almost nervous flutter again — a little lower this time — but was too focused on what was playing out before him to really pay attention.

As soon as Lawyer Hwang came within reach of the bench, Judge Kang picked up a sheet of papers and held it out to the man. The angle and distance made it impossible for Ga On to see exactly what was on it, but it looked like it might be one of the photos from his case file. The lawyer looked equally baffled as Ga On felt, but accepted the photo nonetheless.

"Your honor, what—"

"You may return to your seat."

The dismissal was blatant enough to be insulting, but Lawyer Hwang was hardly in a position to refuse. So, instead, he gave a brief nod and did as asked.

Ga On had no idea what was happening and he only got more confused when Lawyer Hwang's steps faltered as he looked down at the photo Judge Kang had given him. Lawyer Hwang threw a startled glance at Judge Kang — who was blithely shuffling through his papers, seemingly completely unaffected by the tension in the room — before hurrying back to his seat.

Lawyer Hwang looked even more tense than before, his face having gone pale.

Ga On wished he knew what was in that photo.

"We will proceed," Judge Kang announced, effortlessly slipping back into his calm, businesslike demeanor from before. He didn't seem the least bit concerned about the hushed yet clearly heated whispers going on between Jung Hyun Woo and his lawyer. "Defendant, do you have anything else you would like to add?"

Ga On startled at the question, tearing his gaze away from Jung Hyun Woo and Lawyer Hwang to instead focus on Judge Kang. The previous glimpse of humanity had been wiped away, leaving the same aloof and cold judge who had first entered the courtroom. The shift was jarring — and made Ga On wonder which was the real Judge Kang — but he knew it wasn't his place to question it.

Instead, he shook his head. Then, a split second later, remembered to add:

"No, your honor."

A flash of amusement — or perhaps approval — flitted past on Judge Kang's face, but it was so brief Ga On might have imagined it. Ga On swallowed, his thumb rubbing nervously over the knuckle of the other.

"Counsel, do you have any questions for the defendant?" Judge Kang asked, turning his attention to Lawyer Hwang.

The whispered conversation cut off and while Lawyer Hwang made an effort to appear calm and in control, even Ga On could see the cracks in his composure. Ga On had no idea what had been on the paper Judge Kang had given the lawyer but, clearly, it was enough to send them both into a panic.

Ga On's curiosity grew — as did the flicker of hope.

While Ga On might not know what Judge Kang had given the lawyer, it had clearly done something. And it was enough to wipe the smug superiority off of Jung Hyun Woo's face. He almost looked frightened and Ga On desperately wanted to know why.

"No, your honor." Lawyer Hwang paused for a second, as if hesitating, but a swift nudge from his client soon made him continue. "We would like to ask for a short break, however."

Judge Kang regarded the lawyer with a measured kind of blandness, as if he couldn't care less.

"Very well. Will ten minutes be enough?"

Lawyer Hwang nodded, his jaw clenched tight.

"Yes, thank you, your honor."

"Then we take a ten-minute recess," Judge Kang announced. "Defendant, you may step down from the witness stand."

Ga On flinched at suddenly being addressed — he'd almost forgotten he wasn't just a casual observer — but hurried to bow his head to Judge Kang before doing as told. Lawyer Yeo gave him an encouraging smile when he returned to his seat next to her, but he could see the tension in her shoulders. And the way she glanced over at Judge Kang said that she, too, was wondering what was going on.

The previously low murmur of voices swelled as the recess started and only distantly did Ga On take note of Jung Hyun Woo and Lawyer Hwang exiting the courtroom, whispering furiously to each other. Ga On's focus was on Judge Kang, who remained seated at the bench, calmly flicking through the papers in front of him with a detached look on his face.

As if he hadn't just caused the entire courtroom to erupt into furious whispers and speculations.

What was Judge Kang doing? And what had been on that photo he gave Lawyer Hwang?

Ga On's thoughts were churning, curiosity and intrigue almost making him forget where he was and why.

Ga On startled when Judge Kang suddenly turned his head and calmly met Ga On's gaze. He did so with enough precision and purpose to make it obvious he was aware of the staring and had finally decided to address it. Ga On cheeks flushed with embarrassment and even if he told himself to look away, he didn't.

He couldn't.

It was as if his own body suddenly refused to obey him.

Instead, Ga On stared back at Judge Kang, helpless to stop himself, not sure how a gaze could be that intense, even from across a room. It felt almost like a physical touch.

Ga On realized his heart was racing again.

A couple of seconds passed before Judge Kang let out what looked to be a small, amused huff. Then, with a brief yet unmistakable flash of mischief in his eyes, smiled at Ga On. While Judge Kang might act unconcerned and aloof, that smile said that he knew exactly what he'd just done — and didn't regret it one bit.

Such blatant lack of remorse should probably have been alarming — and it was, at least to some degree — but Ga On also couldn't ignore just how smoothly Judge Kang had orchestrated it all, never once breaking his composure.

It was as terrifying as it was impressive.

Judge Kang was dangerous.

And yet, all Ga On felt at that realization was a dizzying flutter in his gut, his breath catching for a split second.

Which was... new.

Ga On tried to swallow but found that his throat was too dry, his thoughts tumbling over themselves. He felt his blush deepen and, finally, through much effort, was able to tear his gaze away. He stared down at the table in front of him instead, spine stiff and heart pounding. He had no idea what was going on — why he suddenly felt so nervous, his skin prickling with awareness — but he could tell now wasn't the time.

Not in the middle of a courtroom, while waiting to see if he'd sealed his own fate with one careless act.

Ga On laced his fingers together in his lap before closing his eyes, trying his best to tune out the whispers. He didn't look at Professor Min, afraid of what he'd see on his face — feeling far too raw to handle the inevitable concern and disapproval he'd probably find there. He'd wait until after the trial, whatever the verdict would be.

Ga On's throat tightened as whatever brief spark of hope he'd felt during Judge Kang's questioning began to dwindle. Of course there would be no second chance for him — not when he was actually guilty of the crimes he was accused of. He should be punished. Just because he regretted his actions now, when he was faced with the consequences, didn't mean he should be forgiven.

He would be a coward to try and run from this.

And yet, Ga On couldn't deny that he felt a clench of panic as silence began to settle over the courtroom once more, signaling that the break was almost over. If he could have frozen time, right then and there, he would have. He didn't want to hear the verdict. He didn't want it confirmed that he had, in fact, ruined his life.

He should have listened to Professor Min.

Ga On didn't open his eyes until Judge Kang started speaking again, Ga On's shoulders coiled tight with tension and heartbeats loud in his ears. He couldn't bring himself to look up, though, instead staring down at his hands — at the scabs and blood on his knuckles, and the half-moon-shaped indents from his fingernails on his skin.

"Let us proceed." Judge Kang spoke with cool efficiency, Ga On swallowing at the flat tone. "Since the defendant—"

A low, apologetic throat-clearing echoed through the courtroom.

"Your honor, if I may?" Lawyer Hwang ventured carefully.

There was a brief pause, long enough that Ga On glanced up at Judge Kang, who was observing Lawyer Hwang with the same impenetrable calm as before.

"You have something you wish to add, counsel?"

Lawyer Hwang got to his feet and bowed formally — albeit stiffly — to Judge Kang.

"Yes. My client wishes to drop all charges, your honor."

Ga On's head snapped up, staring wide-eyed at Lawyer Hwang.

He must have heard that wrong.

Except the wave of surprise that swept over the room, followed by the sudden surge of whispers from the spectators, said that Ga On wasn't the only one who'd heard those words. Only distantly did he register Lawyer Yeo squeezing his arm, his gaze flicking up to Judge Kang instead.

"Drop all charges?" Judge Kang sounded mildly surprised, though Ga On wouldn't say it sounded very sincere. "How so?"

Lawyer Hwang's jaw tightened, but his tone remained impressively polite as he replied:

"Defendant Kim Ga On has expressed his remorse over his actions and, considering his age and situation, my client has decided to show compassion and not pursue legal action. Mr. Kim is young and has his life ahead of him. It would be a shame to ruin his future because of one brief lapse of judgment. We therefore wish to drop all charges and have the case dismissed."

Ga On blinked, not sure how to react. First, while he didn't deny what he'd done, he hadn't exactly shown remorse, either, just that he regretted being foolish enough to end up in this situation. The two were wildly different things. Second, the thought of being pitied by this rich brat made his hackles rise, especially since he knew how hollow the words were.  Third, Jung Hyun Woo probably didn't have a compassionate bone in his body and couldn't care less about Ga On's future.

But Ga On wasn't foolish enough to object, that flicker of hope suddenly bright and blazing, humming through his chest. He held his breath, not quite sure if he dared to believe it just yet — too scared, too hopeful, and too shocked to fully grasp what was happening.

It felt too good to be true.

"If that's what your client has decided," Judge Kang replied, his voice perfectly even, "then the court will of course respect his wishes."

Lawyer Hwang bowed. "Thank you, your honor."

Lawyer Yeo's grip on his arm was tight, but Ga On didn't pay that any mind. He was looking at Judge Kang, both amazed and alarmed by the complete lack of emotion on his face — as if this wasn't at all his doing. As if what Judge Kang had done — whatever he'd written on that photo he'd handed over to Lawyer Hwang — wasn't what had made Jung Hyun Woo change his mind.

Judge Kang inclined his head in acknowledgment before picking up his gavel.

Everything was happening much too fast.

"The case of plaintiff Jung Hyun Woo versus defendant Kim Ga On is hereby dropped. Court dismissed."

The sound of the gavel hitting wood was sharp like a gunshot in Ga On's ears. His breath left him in a rush, like a startled little gasp, his head spinning as the magnitude of what had just happened hit him.

The relief was overwhelming — suffocating — and fierce enough to leave him dizzy.

Slowly, as if experiencing everything through a fog, Ga On became aware of Lawyer Yeo talking to him. He couldn't quite hear what she was saying, partly because of the ringing in his ears, but also the cacophony of voices echoing inside the courtroom. Ga On couldn't really make sense of any of it, but automatically nodded when Lawyer Yeo patted his arm with a beaming smile.

Ga On swallowed — feeling lost and disoriented — and, without conscious thought, driven by some nameless instinct that didn't even make sense, found himself looking toward the judge's bench again. Judge Kang was rising from his chair, effortlessly calm and composed. He picked up the folder from the desk and then, between one heartbeat and the next, his gaze flicked up to meet Ga On's — unerringly precise, just like last time.

As if he'd known exactly where to look.

Ga On held his breath, gratitude surging, but without any real way to express it. There was an entire courtroom between them — loud voices talking, Professor Min approaching in Ga On's peripheral — and too many thoughts, too much to say, for Ga On to be able to voice any of it.

A beat passed before Judge Kang tipped his head in a gracious nod, the gesture seemingly both a blessing and a warning — sealing the deal Ga On had just made.

Ga On had been given a second chance, as promised — now he had to uphold his end of the bargain.

He had to make it count.

And he would. He didn't know how Judge Kang had done it, but Ga On wasn't stupid enough to waste the opportunity he'd been given. He wasn't going to take this for granted.

Ga On's throat tightened and, with the telltale burn of tears behind his eyelids, he nodded back.

No sooner had he done so before Judge Kang turned to leave and, a split second later, Ga On felt the familiar weight of Professor Min's hand settle on his shoulder. Sounds returned — Ga On wasn't sure when they'd become so dull and muted — and he almost swayed in his seat when he turned to look at Professor Min. He felt unmoored again, left adrift, and it took a second before the rest of the world seemed to catch up, slotting back into place.

Ga On took a trembling breath, still a little lost, and realized he was shaking. The relief was staggering, mind-numbing, and when Professor Min crouched down next to him, hand still on Ga On's shoulder — safe and grounding — all Ga On could do was burst into tears.

It was over.

And, through some kind of miracle, he'd been given a second chance.

He had a life again.

—

So this was that idea my brain presented me with, all neatly tied up with a bow. And I wrote down this first chapter within a couple of days, just to make it shut the hell up x’D And I’ve taken down notes for the rest of the story, just in case.

I kind of want to continue? But, for now, I figured I’d throw it up here for... idk. Judgement? Vibe check? To make sure it doesn’t just wither away in my WIPs folder?

Fun facts about this story:

This scene happens when Ga On is 17-18, so BEFORE Isaac dies

The rest of the fic would be set a couple of years later, but also a couple of years before the drama, when Ga On is studying to become a judge

Ga On now feels more indebted to Yo Han than Professor Min for helping him get his life straight, so that will change the dynamic and lessen Professor Min’s hold over Ga On

Ga On has clearly started his gay awakening much, much earlier (his timing is the worst) so there will be fewer sexuality freakouts

Consequently, Ga On has kind of already realised he might not be in love with Soo Hyun, even if he loves her dearly (Yo Han the Homewrecker, amirite?)

Ga On is going to get a little bit obsessed with Yo Han while trying to figure him out, kinda like in the drama except for his own gay reasons instead of Professor Min asking him to

No, Yo Han didn’t just write “drop the case” on that photo — he’s too good for that xD

Ga On is going to come into Yo Han and Elijah’s lives much, much sooner and spare Elijah from so, so much trauma (though there will, of course, be some confusion due to his face)

I just want Elijah to be happy, so sue me

So yeah. I hope you enjoy it! And, hopefully, it sounds like an interesting story? Since I might just write the rest at some point. We’ll see! :D

Thank you for reading 💜

[merverelli]

👼🗡️ toddiel, the golden sword of the inconquerable dawn. 👼🗡️

[autisticlee]

I hate when someone vents about things they struggle with, and someone replies "be grateful for/focus on the things you have" yeah I get it. but that doesn't cancel out things you DONT have but need. it doesn't make your needs that arent being met just go away or suddenly be met!

[why-fucking-bother-anymore]

I swear I've gone through every emotion known to man.... (And then some) today...

[suenitos]

what other content do you consume outside of dteam/dnf?

ive been getting into rupauls drag race over the past few months actually . im not really into other youtubers/ccs lately because i dont rlly trust a lot of them LOL and to be honest none of them really excite me the same as dteam. idk im weird because i just dont get into stuff really easily unless i find a way to feel actually insane about it . but let me know if you or anyone reading this has any recs for anything! no promises i get into it but just wanna know what you guys are into as well

[m00ngbin]

JUST FINISHED THE SECOND SEASON OF MP100 AGAIN AND SOMETHING THAT I LOVE IS THAT MOB ISNT ALWAYS JUST NICE ON IMPULSE. HE HAS TO MAKE AN EFFORT. HE *CHOOSES* TO BE KIND

[nieloxychen]

not to have a moment in another posts tags so im venting in my own tags <3

[wyndford-dekarios-majima]

uhoh. i think ive had a low reading comprehension moment

[watermelonsloth]

Tags from: ciboriaadastra

I can’t say I’m a Batman expert or anything, but he’s one of the DC characters I’m most familiar with and one of the DC characters I see butchered most often. People love to turn him into some grimdark codeless vigilante (even though his code is one of the most important parts of his character) or a symbol of hypermasculinity (usually toxic masculinity as well) and it misses the entire point of his character. Yeah his brooding and wealth and ability to kick ass and use of intimidation and tragic backstory and all of that is relevant to his character, but his care for the city he grew up in, his willpower and stubbornness in making it a genuinely better place, and his optimism that it will be better one day are so much more important.

I've spent most of Ghost-Maker's time in Gotham laughing my ass off, because these two are extremely hilarious and shippable, I'm always here for a good time that annoys the hell out of Bruce and the person I'm shipping him with, I want everyone to have a horrible time except me, me, I'm having a great time, but I actually legitimately loved this moment. Minhkhoa thinks that Bruce is failing Gotham because he stopped like five different crimes before he even got off the plane, a serial murder being a big example--and Bruce destroys his argument by saying he already had someone on it, they were waiting to see where he stashed the trophies so that the families could have peace, now they have to live with hearsay, that Minhkhoa destroyed a RICO case he was helping to build because the judges in Gotham are corrupt, that Bruce had already replaced the weapons shipment that he left in place, etc. And then there's Clown-Hunter, who killed a lot of people, and would do too well in Blackgate. But that's the absolute core of Bruce Wayne as Batman, exactly the problem he faces and his solution--one that isn't perfect, but he fundamentally believes in second chances. He believes in empathy for what brought a seventeen-year-old kid to the choices he made. Not to let him off without consequences, but that Batman fundamentally is an optimist who believes that people should be given help and care to be rehabilitated. It isn't just that Clown-Hunter watched his parents die in front of him, sure, that makes this more intense, but fundamentally Batman sends these villains back to Arkham because, however imperfect that help is, he believes there's always a chance for someone to get better. That is a CORE element of Batman's character and I love love love that it's so central to his fight with Ghost-Maker here. Like, if your Batman isn't coming from a place of optimism, however traumatized and grimdark and fucked up it can get at times, then that's not Batman.

[sunlightmurdock]

ain’t afraid of a little thunder | tyler owens

“now, sweetheart… I know you didn’t come crawling in here in the middle of the night,” his gaze flickers between your shadowed, sullen face and the way your sleep shirt ends at the middle of your thighs. “just because of a little thunder?”

warnings: minors dni, 18+. smut. unprotected pinv. oral (m+f). no physical descriptions of reader except some hair pulling mentioned.

…

Blinding white light flashes, spilling through and under the gaps in the curtains. The furniture is, at once, illuminated a ghastly white. The room remains still, aside from where you lay in your bed, tangled in sheets and breathing softly. 

What comes next isn’t the rolling kind of thunder that usually spills across these parts, there’s nothing slow or melodic about it. It comes as an almighty clap, shaking the old farmhouse down to its foundations. 

Seemingly spurred on by the sound, the wind joins the symphony by crashing into the window, slamming at the shutters and making the two panels swing wide open.

The storm howls now, spilling through these old walls and waking you with a start. You shoot upright in bed, eyes wide and heart thundering in your ears. Rain splatters on the worn floorboards as you look frantically around your childhood bedroom.

“Shit.” You huff out, hurling yourself out of the creaky, old metal-framed bed you had spent your teenage years in. You stumble towards the whirling wind and wrestle the window shut, snapping the latch shut once again.

You had been jolted so violently from your dreams that you aren’t even sure your eyes are open until you’re staring at streaks of lightning painting the dark sky. With a trembling hand, you reach for the edge of the curtain and pull it back across the window.

Even with your view gone, as you slip back into bed it’s impossible to pretend that the storm isn’t happening. It whips at the house, making the foundations creak and groan. Every few seconds, the sky will streak bright white and will roar with another clap of thunder. 

Eyes squeezed shut and the sheets pulled high isn’t cutting it. The weather rages just beyond these four walls, refusing to be ignored. Your heart thunders along with the bellowing horizon.

You toss onto your left side. Then your right. A frustrated sound slips your lips as you thrash onto your back. It’s like the storm is just getting worse. Closer. 

Each flash of lightning feels brighter. Each clap of thunder feels louder. You tremble under the confines of your comforter, lips pursed. You shoot a quick look toward the little digital alarm clock on your night stand. 1:55. 

Panic flares in your chest. You remember being small in this room, terrified of these same storms. The nights where you would tear out of bed and race down the hall to the safety of your parents’ bed.

You’re a little old for that now, and they chose this week of all to be vacationing at Niagara Falls. 

You pull the blankets tighter around yourself, momentarily blinded by the prospect of being alone in this big, rickety house all by yourself in the path of a storm — you’re miles away from help reaching you.

But you aren’t all alone. 

After a tough few days of field work, you had opened your doors — well, your parents’ doors — to a… colleague, of sorts. If that’s what you could call Tyler. You had a common goal, and he needed a place to stay while the two of you got some work done, that was all. It was easier than sending him to the motel an hour away.

He’s down the hall, probably sleeping like a baby, in the guest room.

You couldn’t possibly wake him. He would hold it over your head for the rest of your life. You would never live it down. Being a meteorologist who can’t sleep through a little—

Storm.

It’s that last, tremendous crash of thunder that sends you flying, once again, out of your childhood bed as it rattles the house. You’re cursing yourself under your breath already as you pad, barefoot down the hallway. 

Past pictures of yourself missing teeth and grinning, sporting pigtails and wearing overalls — all images of yourself that you would rather the famed ‘Tornado Wrangler’ himself hadn’t seen. 

The only thing that stops you is a brief moment in front of the door to the guest room, where you stand debating whether it would be better to knock or to just slip in and hope that he doesn’t even notice you.

You should knock. He could be naked. Shit. 

Swallowing both your pride and the lump of solid anxiety in your throat, you close your eyes and rap your knuckles softly against the door. Maybe he doesn’t hear you over the storm, or maybe he’s just a deep sleeper, but he doesn’t answer.

You should leave him alone.

But you can’t stand the thought of being by yourself through this. What if it’s something big? — You should have checked the radar.

You’re already twisting the doorknob, as slow as you can. It complies silently, the door slipping open without a peep. You would have gotten away with it, if you had thought about the light in the hall.

You get a glimpse of him while he’s still asleep. Sprawled out across the bed, laying on his back on the side closest to the door, his hair mussed and his face turned away from you. Curtains wide open, still. His clothes are thrown on the chair in the corner. The sheets are slung low on his waist. A flash of lightning illuminates the ridges through the golden skin of his abdomen. 

Then, that darned light from the hallway casts across his face and wakes him. He stirs, groaning in soft complaint as he lifts his head from the pillow and blinks angrily in your direction.

He says your name, his voice deep and growly from sleep. His tone vaguely suggests that he’s checking if it’s really you, but you’re too distracted to answer him.

Tyler twists his neck and looks around for a clock, pushing himself up just a little and letting the sheets fall to reveal the waistband of his navy boxers. “What time is it?”

“Late. Sorry,” You mumble out, still standing in his wide-open doorway like an idiot. “You should go back to sleep.”

His brows knit together as he turns his head to look at you again. Grumpy looks good on him. Especially when he’s laying in bed, his hair disheveled and his clothes on the floor. 

He presses the base of his palm into his eye socket, every bit as disgruntled as he looks as he rubs the sleep away with his big hands. 

“You gonna stand there and watch me all night if I do?” 

Your immediate reaction is to put your hackles up and get defensive at the accusation, like that’s not kind of exactly how the situation would appear to him.

“No, I just… I couldn’t sleep.” Your answer isn’t really an answer at all. Tyler reminds you of this by simply raising his eyebrows, as if to say ‘and what might that have to do with me?’. You shrug your shoulders. “I was just coming to see if— if you were up.”

“I am now.” Tyler offers. “What did you want?”

Desperately to go back to sleep. You’re exhausted. These past few days have been some of the hardest of your life — and here you are, unable to sleep, trying to find a bed to sleep in, like a child.

You stand there, debating for a moment if you’re going to come clean. It would be easy enough to just admit your irrational little fear and crawl into bed, and deal with the constant teasing from then on. 

Unfortunately, your body makes the decision for you. Thunder and lightning crash together, shaking the house once again. The rain whipping at the shutters does nothing to conceal the gasp-bordering-shriek that slips your lips as you jump and rush into the room.

Tyler’s eyes widen through the dark. His gaze is quizzical as he studies the abject panic on your face, then looks to his window. Then, he looks slowly back to you. 

His mouth twitches. Excitement flashes across his face with a burst of lightning as a grin twists at his mouth.

“Now, sweetheart… I know you didn’t come crawling in here in the middle of the night,” His gaze flickers between your shadowed, sullen face and the way your sleep shirt ends at the tops of your thighs. “Just because of a little thunder?”

“Don’t be a dick about it — I know it’s ridiculous, I just can’t sleep.” You rush out, folding your arms across your chest. As you do so, your shirt bunches and rides up just enough to prove that you are, in fact, not wearing any shorts. He’d been wondering about that.

As he studies your face for the next few moments, you can see that he considers being a dick — and decides against it.

He holds his palms up in surrender, and shrugs his shoulders as he peels back the other side of the covers. Amusement coats his words as he drawls a playful, “Well, why didn’t you say so?”

Closing the door to the hallway, the room is plunged into darkness once again. You trudge around to the other side of the bed, begrudging every moment of this ridiculous night. You should have had him sleep in the barn like you had threatened to. But then you really would be all alone in this big old house.

His eyes follow your silhouette around the foot of the bed, as the sky flashes white once more he takes note of the way your cute graphic tee sits a little higher in the back, giving him just the smallest glimpse of where your thighs meet the swell of your ass.

He waits for you to reach the bed and set one knee on before he goes back to trying to rest. He lays down on his back and closes his eyes as the bed shifts slightly with your weight and the covers wriggle around with your movement.

Then, things settle.

The bed goes still, and so do the both of you as you lay side by side in it. It’s not an especially large double, but the two of you both seem to be choosing to ignore the way his warm shoulder is pressed right up against yours.

It’s just his shoulder. His bare shoulder, sure, but it’s not like you could ask him to put some clothes on — you’re the one who came crawling into his bed in your underwear. You’re just grateful that there’s just about enough room for the rest of you to not graze him at all.

You close your eyes, and inhale deeply. This whole house usually smells like lavender and vanilla, but not now. This room smells like spiced oak and pine, and the familiar smell of his cologne lingers on his clothes, his belongings— his bare skin.

His voice cuts through the dark. “So, you’re not like a bedwetter or anything, right? — D’your parents usually like give you a stuffed animal to get through this kind of thing, or—“

You reach out and smack him hard in his stomach. His hard, taught stomach. “Shut it, Owens.”

The bed rattles with his soft laughter.

“I just— I’m blindsided,” He admits, still laughing. He tucks an arm behind his head, meaning your shoulder now sits in the curve of his underarm. “You’re afraid of thunder.”

You throw yourself onto your side, turning swiftly away from him and tugging away his share of covers just out of spite. “No one will ever believe you. I’ll tell them you’re crazy.” 

He grins in the dark.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m not gonna tattle on you — you have no idea how much I’m enjoying being the only person who knows that Little Miss ‘Do As I Say’ gets this rattled over a little rain.”

You roll your eyes, then close them. “Goodnight, Tyler.”

The bed shakes again with another bout of his quiet laughter. “Yeah, g’night, honey.”

The pet names are going to be put to an abrupt end first thing tomorrow morning. You’re going to give him hell before he even gets a chance to open his stupid, pretty mouth. Until then, you have to keep yourself from doing anything that might have you exiled back to your own room.

Once again, the room settles. The rain whips at the windows, soaking the soil outside. Thunder rumbles closer again, but the lightning flashes don’t seem quite so bright. 

You focus on the sound of him breathing. Deep, slow inhales. He’s calm as could be, his weight pressing into the mattress and his body heat radiating under the shared covers. Uncomfortable on your right side but not wanting to be facing him, you roll onto your back.

Unconsciously a few moments later, you roll back onto your right side. Maybe then your left side. After that, your back again. Then your front.  

As you sigh and twist, Tyler sucks in a sharp breath from beside you.

“God damn, will you sit still? — You’re gonna spin yourself out of this bed.” It’s not until he’s done complaining that you realize he’s now holding you. His arm is secured tight enough around your middle that you couldn’t roll over again, even if you wanted to. Facing away from him, your eyes stare at the painted wall.

He huffs, closing his eyes and flexing his arm around you as he drags you closer.

“Go to sleep.” He mumbles groggily, his breath tickling at the nape of your neck. 

Well, if you were struggling before, then the sentiment is entirely hopeless now. 

You lie awake, watching the sky crackle and glow with flashes of colour. Tyler lies with you, feeling you flinch at every boom that follows.

He shifts suddenly behind you, feeling you go rigid.

“This thing really has you spooked, doesn’t it?” His fingers sprawl across your covered stomach, his voice coated with a softness you weren’t expecting. You feel him lift his head and peer over your shoulder, trying to get a look at your face.

“No.” You bite back, trying to tug yourself free from his hold and shift closer to the edge of the bed. You’ll be hanging off of the side if you keep this up.

“Here, c’mere,” Tyler murmurs, catching your bicep and turning you back around. Your brows furrow and your face grows stormy, and he can just tell that you’re batting up to argue with him. 

He opens both of his arms and wraps them around you at once, giving you no choice but to squish against his chest. Your eyes squeeze open as he presses his lips to your hairline. “It’s alright, you’re alright.”

You stare at the freckle on his neck up close as his fingers stroke at the length of your trembling spine, frozen.

“Listen,” He mumbles against your hair as another clap of thunder tears across the sky. “Two, three, four, five — it’s already getting further away. Was just passing us by.”

“I know that.” You mumble begrudgingly against his chest, hating the way your fingers instinctively splay across his bare ribs.

Quiet falls between the two of you. You get it, he’s just trying to help — and frankly you are being a little ridiculous. He gets it, sometimes there’s no explaining fear. It’s just there.

His fingers stop at the base of your spine, disrupting the soft pattern he had going. Just for a moment, before he skims them all the way to the nape of your neck and curls them around the curve of your shoulder.

Once again, his mouth grazes your temple. Barely a kiss. Maybe even something platonic. He’s just trying to settle you. But then, there doesn’t feel like there’s much platonic about the way you’re wrapped together.

“It’s alright,” He murmurs. You can feel the rumble of his voice in your chest as he gives your nape a soft squeeze. “Breathe with me.”

Tyler takes long, deep breaths. Slow, and steady, but not patronizing. The kind that make you feel a dizzy kind of sleepy. You could fall asleep just like this, wrapped in his arms and copying his breaths, but you won’t let yourself. 

You dip your head forwards just a fraction, and press your lips to his bare shoulder. It’s small, and again barely a kiss, maybe even something platonic. Just like his was. He doesn’t say anything about it, and the quiet continues for a little longer.

His thumb strokes at the column of your throat as he leans in, turning his nose towards your hair. “That’s it.” 

You turn your head too, closing your lips softly around his collarbone. This one’s an inch less polite than the others, just a bit more daring, but still easy to misunderstand.

Opening up your palm, you trail your nails along his side, brushing softly from his ribs to his hips. Then, you stretch your neck and reach higher.

His fingers squeeze at your nape as your lips close against his throat. His free hand comes from its resting place against the sheets to curl around your thigh.

The tip of your nose bumps his chin in passing, he looks down while you look up until your eyes are locked together through the dark.

You would never live this down. Your work is too important to risk it all by— he’s kissing you before you’re done arguing with yourself, and your mind is made up.

His stubble scrubs at your cheek as he presses against you, capturing your mouth with his, kneading at his hold on your thigh. 

Your palm presses into the muscle of his back, firm and pulling him against you. You’re the one who hikes your thigh around his hip. He’s the one who twists the two of you and plants you firmly on your back between the pillows.

And then, you’re looking at each other again.

Lightning flashes across the sky, making his green eyes glow emerald for a moment. They search across your face while his hands take hold of your hips.

He looks at you in a way he never has before, all those days working together, his eyes hungry with lust. The intensity in those pretty, green eyes sends shocks of electricity up your spine.

“Just for tonight, and we never speak of this again.” You breathe, eyes wide as you stare up at him. Tyler’s lips twitch.

“You’re gonna regret those terms.” He promises, letting that cocky grin of his twist across his mouth, raising his brows in challenge. You swallow, narrowing your eyes back at him. “But, sure. Whatever you say.”

Right as you’re starting to think that maybe this isn’t worth its risk, he leans forwards and turns your head to the side, closing his mouth around your pulse point. 

His teeth graze against the spot, just sharp enough of a sting to make you gasp before he’s pressing against you harder, kissing harder, soothing his mark with his tongue. 

The tip of his angled nose bumps the curve of your jaw, his stubble scratching at your sensitive skin. You hike your leg higher around his waist, pressing your foot into his thigh. His tongue dips from between his lips, flicking across your jugular before he captures the spot with his mouth.

Your fingers curl around his neck, squeezing at his nape, holding his mouth against your throat. A moan slips your lips as his teeth graze over your skin. He sucks a firm kiss into the spot below your ear.

He hums as your fingers slide up into his hair, rewarding you with another open-mouthed kiss in a spot that makes you squirm. Your eyes close contentedly as his mouth works against the smooth skin there.

When the next crash of thunder shakes the foundations, you almost forget to flinch. 

Tyler twists his head sharply and with a sudden, mutual urgency, you crash together. He pulls you flush against him, sliding his tongue into your mouth and caressing it expertly against yours.

Then, his attention turns to the large, old local team jersey you had worn to bed. It was the first thing you had found in your closet. He doesn’t seem to care, bunching it around your middle and tugging you forwards to lift it over your head.

Lightning strikes as the jersey hits the floor. As his knees sit between your thighs, Tyler studies your body. He has thought about this before, what you might look like under all that office-wear. His imagination doesn’t compare.

He sits back on his knees, cupping his palm over the tent straining against his boxer-briefs. Your gaze flickers downward, eye-lids drooping with want as you watch him palm a hand over his cock.

“Don’t move.” He mumbles, reaching out to settle his other hand against the soft curve of your bare waist. It’s clear that he has a plan in his head, you can practically hear the gears turning as his darkened eyes study your body.

Stroking himself carelessly, he drops his hand to the inside of your thigh and pushes it back just a bit. Then, Tyler groans as he lowers his mouth to your chest. One of his warm, weathered hands comes up to caress your breast while his mouth cares for the other.

He kisses softly over the swell of skin, more gentle than you would have expected someone like him to be. He glances up at you as he purses his lips and blows softly, fanning cool air against your already half-hardened nipple.

Then, that talented tongue dips from his lips again, and traces the colour of your nipple, flicking back and forth across the bud before he finally closes his mouth around it. 

Your head sinks into the pillows as your chest arches eagerly toward his kisses. Moans spill from your lips, and you just know that you’ll be soaked by the time he finally touches you.

He doesn’t keep you waiting long. Amidst his parade of kisses, as he’s approaching your navel, his hand dips between your legs. You almost flinch at the contact, keening into his touch instead. 

His fingertips are featherlight, trailing the seams of your underwear where they sit between your thighs. His thumb presses firmer, experimentally sliding between your folds. 

Taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you glance down as he looks up at you. His mouth twists as your excitement spills through the lace against the pad of his thumb.

This is most definitely territory that neither one of you have business venturing into. It’s certainly going to make your next venture a little bit more tense than usual. The irony of it being your common venture that had led you here isn’t lost on either of you either.

Tyler makes it known that he has every intention of bringing his usual cockiness to this encounter, smirking as he presses his mouth to your hipbone, circling his thumb softly over your clit.

Bright, white lightning streaks again outside the window. It bathes the farm you grew up on in sudden, harsh light. The rumble of thunder doesn’t come until Tyler’s sucking a mark into the inside of your thigh— he was right, it is getting further away.

And he’s getting closer.

You gasp sharply as he opens his lips and dives forwards, mouthing at your soaked core through the flimsy constraints of your lace underwear. 

The next streak of lightning catches all of the shadows in the muscles of his back, working and flexing as he peels your underwear down your thighs. He kisses the length of your legs, nipping and biting as he goes, tossing the lace to some far corner of the room as soon as he’s done.

Your fingers shoot into his hair, squeezing firmly as he buries his face between your legs. Eager and animalistic, he sucks and licks, holding your thighs over his strong shoulders. You shudder. He groans as you tug at his sandy roots.

As you have found with everything else he does, Tyler’s ginormous ego seems to be well-founded. He has every bit the right to be so confident. 

Though, you’ll never admit that outside of these four walls.

He doesn’t need you to. The way your body thrashes and arches against his mouth tells him all he needs to know. 

You hum softly like you haven’t been moaning openly into the chilled room, tugging at his short locks once again. He groans into your excitement. At once, ring finger slides into you alongside his middle. He curls them both into you.

The sharp gasp it draws from you goes straight to his cock, eliciting another deep groan from his chest as he grinds himself against the patterned sheets.

All you can do is breathe, heels pressing into the mattress as you chase his mouth. Unhindered whimpers spilling from your lips as he works his fingers into you. It feels better than good. Incredible, even.

For the sake of your dignity, you’re grateful to lack the ability to tell him how good this feels. 

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Tyler takes a break to nip at your thighs and coax you towards the finish line you’re already desperate to cross. He looks up at you from between your legs. Your head is thrown back into the pillows, your muscles tensed and trembling. You’re fucking yourself on his fingers. “Take what you need. You gonna get yourself there?”

Then, he leans down and licks one stripe along your core, making you cry out. “Or you need me to do it for you?”

“God, you’re an asshole,” You rush out, brows furrowing in concentration as you desperately chase that high. He chuckles softly, leaving you hanging as he waits for your answer. “Yes! Alright? — I need you.”

Tyler takes that answer with delight, pinning your thigh back against your middle with sudden strength as his fingers twist into you. You shiver as his mouth takes charge once again.

It doesn’t take him long to blind you with your orgasm, your eyes balled shut so tight that you’re seeing stars. You’re trembling as he’s kissing across your stomach

He licks his lips, still grinning as you drag his glistening mouth back to yours. Meeting you with exactly the same fervor, rolling his hips into yours. You groan at the gentle scratch of his stubble, holding him close.

“Fuck me.” You mumble against his lips, trying to reach between your bodies to push down his boxer-briefs. Your fingertips graze his straining cock, stilling immediately. You glance down, eyes wide as you take note of his size.

“I don’t have a condom.” He mumbles back, kissing you hard before you have enough time to comment on what he’s been packing beneath that stupid, huge buckle this whole time.

“You— You don’t?” You pant, trailing your nails down his back as he sucks at your throat.

“Didn’t think I’d be needing one.” His hands skim up your middle and grab at your tits together, kneading them in his capable hands. He drops his head to suck at the tops of them, his stubbled cheeks scratching at the sensitive skin in the best way.

You almost growl in frustration, thighs trying to clamp together around his hips. You don’t want the night to end here.

“I’m on birth control. If you’re—“

“I’m responsible, we’re good.” Tyler swears, flicking his tongue across your pebbled nipple. “If that’s what you want, baby. You want me bare?”

Your core throbs at his deep voice, so close and so filthy.

“Yes.” You whisper, arching your chest into his mouth as he turns his head to pay equal attention to your other breast. “Fuck, yes.” 

He finally pays himself some attention, sitting back on his knees and dipping his hand into his boxers. Your lips part, watching through lust-hooded eyes as he fists at his cock from between your legs.

“Take them off.” You demand, more urgently than you’ve been before. Tyler’s lips twitch, but you’re not letting him have this one without playing first. “You’re not shy, are you?”

He rolls his shoulders back, giving a slow and certain shake of his head. No, of course he isn’t shy. Why would he be? 

Your mouth goes dry as he pushes the boxers down his thighs and kicks them off of the bed. His cock springs free, standing to attention against the trail of sandy brown hair that trails Tyler’s navel.

It’s impressive, and pink at the tip. Annoyingly as pretty as the rest of him is.

He looks carved from stone, kneeling between your legs with broad shoulders and a chiseled chest. Hair sprawling across his pecs neatly, and just down his sternum. The same kind of pretty light brown as his hair. Angled hipbones. He’s defined all over, with strong thighs to match.

“You have no fuckin’ clue how long I’ve been wanting to do this.” Tyler’s admission catches you by surprise, and the shock of it is just registering in your system as he leans down and covers your body with his. 

His weight leaning against you feels better than you’d like to admit, caging you in. The storm feels far, far away. 

The tip of his cock notches at your entrance and you forget all of the doubts you just had about what he had said.

“So, do it. Please,” You breathe out, turning your face towards his neck, kissing the vein that trails there. “I want it.”

Tyler revels in the desperate sound you make as he drags his cock between your folds, his lip between his teeth as he watches the tip sink into you. He really has been waiting a long time for this.

He had made the effort in the beginning, tested your boundaries and swung by your motel rooms every now and again. Every interaction you’ve had has been strictly professional, and he wasn’t going to keep chasing someone who didn’t want to be chased.

As your walls squeeze him tight and your mouth sucks at the column of his throat— fuck, he wishes he had chased a little harder.

You roll your hips into his eagerly, gasping as he pulls almost all the way out and drives back in. You trail your nails along his shoulders, squeezing your thighs around his hips. Thunder rumbles somewhere far away, deep and low like the sounds of Tyler’s groans.

“You feel like you’re fucking made for me.” He mutters, pressing his fingertips into the supple flesh of your ass as he hugs you as close as he possibly can. Buried in you as deeply as he possibly can be, he stills for a moment and pants hard.

You make an incoherent sound of vague agreement, nipping at the curve of his jaw as you rake your nails along his shoulder. He groans at the feeling, his hips stuttering.

Pulling out slowly one last time, Tyler glances down at where the two of you are joined. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he buries himself into you once again, hard this time. Then, he’s relentless, dragging against your walls as he bottoms out again and again.

The old bed creaks in complaint under the two of you, but it’s the furthest thing from your mind as your moans threaten to muffle the sound all together.

The sky rumbles again, another loud clap of thunder making your eyes snap open. Breathless, your head whips towards the window. You watch the streaks of lightning paint the sky shades of electric blue and white. 

Again, that irrational feeling starts to gnaw at you. 

Tyler’s fingers curl around your chin, turning you back to face him.

“Look at me,” He orders, giving a sharp snap of his hips and revelling in the way it makes your mouth fall open. “I’ve got you. Just keep looking at me.” 

Dumbly, you nod your head. Your fingertips skim the ridges of muscle in his arms. Warm and strong under your touch, his body surrounds yours. His green eyes are focused and unwavering, his hands anchoring your hips to the bed.

There’s no room left for that stupid, irrational feeling. It’s all him. Fucking into you, and staring down at you, weighing you down into the creaky mattress. 

You arch your back, pushing your chest up against his as he fills you up. Tyler’s hand abandons your hip to hook around the back of your shoulders, grabbing a firm fistful of your hair. 

His other hand shoves hard at the back of your thigh, bending it up and out of his way. Your ankle rests against his shoulder, your mind going blank as this new position allows him to angle himself deeper.

“Fuck— Tyler.” You whimper, eyes wide as you look up at him. 

His hand flexes around your roots, tugging hard and making you cry out. You muffle yourself in the crook of his neck, kissing at his salty skin. 

“I’m gonna come.” You breathe out. 

“Yeah?” He murmurs, lips grazing your ear as his thrusts grow deep and fast. “Go ahead, pretty girl. Make yourself come on me.”

You don’t need to be told twice, grabbing onto his shoulder for leverage with one hand as the other dips between your colliding bodies. 

His mouth is hot against your throat as you circle your clit, his deep and desperate groans filling your ears, the smell of his sweat and faint cologne making you want to bury closer to him.

It isn’t long before you’re spilling over that edge. You bite at his throat, moaning at the way he keens desperately into the feeling. Your thighs squeeze around him, trembling through the feeling. Your fingers scramble for purchase against his bicep. 

Tyler grunts hard as your body tenses all over, your walls squeezing him tight. His pace stutters just briefly, then picks up. Your brain feels like mush, your eyes rolling back as he fucks you hard.

His head falls forwards, resting against your collarbone as he cums hard. His fingers flex around both your thigh, and the nape of your next, his voice strained as he groans. His chest heaves with his next few breaths.

You sigh, contented as you turn your face towards his neck and close your eyes. He lingers there for a moment, covering you like a blanket, gently stroking the spots he had grabbed so tightly moments before.

Then, he pulls out of you with a sigh and turns to flop onto his back. You’re surprised as he drags you with him, eyes wide at the prospect of the famed ‘Tornado Wrangler’ being a cuddler of all things.

He turns your head toward him, wasting no time in capturing your mouth with his. “How are you feeling?”

You smile hazily, turning your face towards his bare shoulder for a moment. “Tired.”

He chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. The two of you lie there for a few moments, catching your breath and enjoying the comfortable silence. His fingers trail the length of your spine, swirling soft patterns into your skin.

You almost let yourself fall asleep like that. He makes room for you to get up and watches you walk away as you excuse yourself to the bathroom.

He’s silent, but there’s a smile on his face when you slide back into his bed instead of your own. 

When the sun-rises and pours through the window, it wakes you first. You would complain about the curtains being wide open and the lack of sleep you had managed to get through the night, but it’s hard to when you turn and admire your view.

Tyler is asleep on his back, one arm outstretched toward you. You had been sleeping on top of it. The sheets are strewn messily around his middle and there’s a distinct purple mark at the base of his throat, a reminder of where your mouth had been.

His chest rises and falls steadily, his face calm. His hair is still disheveled, another reminder from last night. He looks even more beautiful in the daylight. 

Then, you remember what you said. Never again. How he had promised you would regret those terms— and you already do, thinking of how you’d like to wake him and repeat last night.

Unprompted, Tyler stirs in his sleep. In doing so, he shifts his hips and announces his morning wood as it stands against the sheets. 

Given that you’re still in the same room, and it’s still technically the same day, this surely doesn’t count as a separate encounter. Your terms could still stand, you reason with yourself as you lean down and kiss his shoulder. 

He doesn’t flinch. In fact, he doesn’t stir at all as you kiss your way down his muscled chest. 

His brows knit together as he starts to come to. He blinks through the abrupt morning light, squinting at the brightness as he remembers where he is. He jolts at the feeling of you mouthing along the length of his cock, eyes going wide.

He takes note, then, of the shape under the covers that sits between his legs. He peels them back slowly, meeting your gaze as you kiss his tip.

“Good morning.” You greet him cheekily. 

Tyler quirks a brow, but smiles. He shifts his hips and tucks a flexing bicep behind his head, settling back down against the pillows.

“It is now.”

[beloveds-embrace]

Part two of the Lavender Marriage au! Considered adding smut to this but I chickened out lmao if the ending is abrupt it’s because of that 🙂‍↕️

The four men are fuming.

Since witnessing the lip-lock battle, they’ve been stewing in barely-contained anger. Every time they see you- on your porch in one of those sweet sundresses, humming to yourself as you water the flower boxes or hand them freshly-baked cookies- they’re consumed by a burning desire to tell you the “truth” about your cheating husband. But the ring on your finger, and your seemingly cheerful demeanor, stop them every time.

Still, they’re restless. It’s wrong to let you live in ignorance like this. But also, it’s not their business even if they want it- even if they want you. The thought of ruining your cozy life, despite your husband’s unfaithfulness, isn’t an easy one to swallow.

It becomes easier to think of admitting it all to you with each passing day, though.

“He’s walking around like he’s done nothing wrong! The bastard. How does she not see it?” Kyle grumbles, gesturing wildly with his tea mug. He grits his teeth, watching your husband saunter inside the house without offering to help you. He just puts down a plate of steak Kyle knows is too fucking cooked. Heathen. Bastard. Ughhh.

“She’s either blind or loyal to a fault,” Johnny agrees, sprawled out on the couch, looking far more despondent than usual. “Breaks ma bloody heart, lads. She’s makin’ us lemonade an’ cookies, an’ he’s aff canoodlin’ wiith some bloke under her roof.”

Simon grunts, his eyes narrowing as he joins Kyle’s side. “What kind of man cheats on her? She’s…” He trails off, unwilling to finish the sentence, but everyone knows what he means: She’s perfect.

Meanwhile, John leans back in his chair, puffing thoughtfully on a cigar. He’s been unusually quiet, though it’s clear he’s just as agitated, fist clenching on his lap. Finally, he speaks, his tone commanding.

“We wait until he leaves,” he says, much to the others’ dismay. “We don’t meddle now. If she finds out on her own, we’ll be there for her. Until then, we keep our mouths shut.”

The others grumble, but they nod in agreement. For now.

You, meanwhile, are oblivious to the internal warfare raging next door. Your days are filled with your usual routine of pretending to be the dutiful wife, gossiping with the neighborhood ladies, sweetly cooing about your hardworking husband, and pretending you don’t know they will gosspi about you after you leave. On the way, you also deliver a basket of homemade muffins to your handsome neighbors.

Such good men; they didn’t even yet know they were your little kitchen rats to taste-test everything you make for the annual baking contest. This year, that bitch Beatrice will not win and you swore it.

“Oh, these look incredible,” Johnny says when you hand over the basket. He flashes you a cheeky grin, and you can’t help but smile back, cheeks warm. “Y’know, if yer husband does not appreciate all this, I might just have ta steal ye away, lass.”

You laugh, waving off the comment as a joke, but the other three men go rigid. “Not the time, mate.” Kyle mutters, elbowing Johnny, though you really don’t notice. Their house is coming along so nicely and so fast; the perks of having handy men as its owners, you suppose.

Later that day, while you’re trimming the hedges of your precious little garden , you spot Simon working on their roof. You catch him staring at you- not that you blame him, you are wearing your one of cutest skirt and top- and you give him a small wave. He almost falls off the roof even if he does wave back, so you decide to just focus on the damned hedges and hopefully avoid any more incidents.

They’re so distracted by your lovely self that they almost forget their rage toward your husband. Almost. Because just as Price and Johnny are helping you carry bags of groceries back to your house, your husband- traitorous bastard- walks out of the house all patient and whistling.

“Be back soon, honey! You know how long my business trips take.” your husband calls over his shoulder, giving you a quick wink before he hops into a car and drives off.

Unbelievable.

The tension is palpable. John glares. Johnny looks like he’s seconds from sprinting after the car. Simon mutters, “Unbelievable,” under his breath from where he and Kyle are watching from the window.

“Oh dear,” you sigh, though on the inside you are very happy. You know your husband’s boyfriend has a nice surprise picked for him- you helped get it, after all- and now you have the house all to yourself again. Perfect.

You turn to John, batting your lashes up at him and it is as if all his anger melts away. “Be my guests this evening, John? I’d be terribly lonely, all by myself in this big house.”

John really, truly, fucking hates your husband for doing this to a precious, lovely thing like you. But at least it means they’ll be the ones in your company.

“Alright, doll,” he nods, fond as he watches the grin stretch across your face. “Let me just go tell the muppets, then we’ll come by and help.”

“There’s no need-“

“I insist, sweetheart.”

That evening, as promised, the four of them come by to “keep you company” and help. You’re in your element, flitting around the kitchen in an apron as you serve drinks and chatter away, oblivious to the tension radiating from the group. You are practically glowing; your pretty flowers were complimented and the food looks so good you can’t wait to post it on your instagram.

Simon leans against the counter, arms crossed, staring daggers into the walls- into the portraits of you and your husband. Kyle is poking at one of the cookies you made like it’s done something to offend him, his mind adrift. Johnny’s chopping away at vegetables, muttering under his breath and wishing it was something else under his knife. And John? He’s nursing his whiskey like it’s the only thing keeping him sane. It might as well be. You talk so nicely about your husband and what he’s customized for you in the kitchen, still so unaware of the truth.

John contemplates just telling you right then and there, but then it happens.

The front door swings open, and in strolls your husband, laughing loudly with none other than his boyfriend- the one the group saw kissing. They’re holding hands, both grinning like idiots.

“Sorry we’re back so soon!” your husband calls out, completely unbothered by the fact that your house is now hosting four very large, very angry military men. “I forgot my wallet-”

The rest of his sentence dies in his throat when he notices the four men staring at him, expressions ranging from pure disbelief to murderous rage. His boyfriend freezes too, glancing nervously between you and the men like he’s walked into a firing squad.

“What the bloody hell is this?” Johnny practically shouts, pointing between the two men with the knife. “You’ve got the audacity to bring him here? Here?”

Kyle crushes the cookie when he slams his fist on the table, standing abruptly. “Under her roof? After all she’s done for you? Again?”

Simon doesn’t say a word because he truly doesn’t need to- he’s just staring, fists clenched, practically vibrating with barely-contained fury.

John finally speaks, his voice low and dangerous, pulling your surprised self against his side protectively. “You’ve got some confessing to do.”

Your husband just… blinks, then glances at you. “Wait, you didn’t tell them?”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I didn’t think it would come up like this.”

“Tell us what?” John demands, his tone sharp. He is still glaring at your husband and the boyfriend

You wave your hand dismissively, like this is the most normal thing in the world with a soft sigh. “Oh, we’re not really married for love, John. It’s just for the benefits- y’know, keeping his parents off his back and mine off mine.”

The room falls silent. Dead silent.

“What?” Simon finally growls, his voice low and dangerous. All this time…

Your husband grins sheepishly, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders. “Yeah, I’m gay. This is my boyfriend. He’s great, isn’t he?” He says, kissing his boyfriend’s cheek.

Johnny looks like he’s just been hit with the frying pan the vegetables he’d been chopping was meant to go in. “Yer what?”

Kyle stares at you, wide-eyed. “You knew? This whole time?”

You shrug, popping a cookie into your mouth. Ohh, Beatrice should count her fucking days. “Of course I knew. We planned the whole thing together. It’s not that complicated, really.”

Simon mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like a curse.

“Anyways, we do have places to be,” your husband sighs. “I’ll just get my wallet and leave you all be to your date.” When he returns with his wallet a few minutes later, he kisses your forehead. “Bye, love. I snuck some of the cookies too- Beatrice is absolutely not winning this year, trust me.” And then he leaves at last.

John exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “Let me get this straight,” he says slowly. “You’re married but it’s just… out of necessity, and you’ve just been… pretending to love him?”

“Exactly!” you say brightly, clapping your hands together. “See? Not so hard to understand.”

The four men just stand there, utterly gobsmacked.

“You mean to tell me,” Johnny starts, pointing an accusatory finger at you after placing the knife down. “that we’ve been stewin’ for weeks over a cheatin’ husband that doesn’t even exist?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” you reply with a giggle, pouring a drink. Your eyes widen then. “But you cannot tell anyone here, in this shitty town, about this!”

“We won’t, love, promise.” Kyle groans, slumping back into his chair. “I need a bloody drink.” And then he perks up when you slide him the drink you just made. “…fucking lifesaver you are, love. Thank you.”

Simon just shakes his head, muttering, “Unbelievable.” under his breath.

John sighs, downing the rest of his whiskey in one go. “You’re going to be the death of us, doll.”

You grin, completely unfazed. “Oh, come on, boys. It’s not that bad.”

The four of them exchange a look- one of disbelief, exasperation, and maybe just a hint of relief. Because as much as they’re reeling from the truth, one thing’s clear: you’re technically single. And that, at least, is something they can work with.

[tojisun]

so obsessed with the “my cock is big so it wont fit” / “try me” relationship dynamic ughhhh thinking about this with simon and reader, and how reader’s desperation made them spiral, makes me so giggly

thinking about the way you finger yourself everyday to stretch yourself out for simon; preparing yourself for him. practicing for him.

it becomes a routine; it was mundane, almost, but every time the thought that you’re doing this for simon slithers its way back to the forefront of your mind, you lose yourself—doused in the tendrils of your desire, so powerful it has you clenching on your own fingers.

they never hit deeper, never stretch you out wider, but they scratch the itch to be stuffed and manage to satiate you long enough for the next day to roll by.

it’s a lot worse when you meet up with simon because your core throbs with need, leaving you crossing your legs to give yourself that muted relief. but it’s never enough, is it?

simon’s right there, voice thick like molten lava, viscous as it washes over you. “are you alright, love?”

and you lie, gritting your teeth and clenching your fists tightly, telling him that of course you’re fine. because what else can you say? “i dream of your cock so much that i fuck myself everyday as prep”?

if you do say that, simon won’t ever let you live it down. so you stay quiet, crossing-and-uncrossing your legs at every of his deep laugh or gentle crooning, trying your best to ignore the way his palm squeezes the muscle of your thigh. you wonder if he’s doing this on purpose by now because there’s no way simon actually does naturally talk like this—

it’s all teases and taunts as a whirlpool of petnames dribble from his quirked-up lips. he calls you, baby and darling. he calls you sweetheart and lovie. but then he also calls you pup, doll, pet—anything that makes you gasp, and quiet puffs of breaths wheeze out of your trachea in your own stupor.

“you seem distracted,” he murmurs, his voice a worried croon.

“uh-huh,” you say, not really listening, because simon’s hand is climbing up higher and higher on your thigh.

simon notices your stare, because of course he does, then does…

nothing.

he drops you off to your place that night, and leaves a kiss on your forehead before driving off. you watch from your living room window as he disappears from your line of sight before clambering towards your room, tearing your pants off your body and chucking your little slip of underwear behind you as you do so.

you sink into your plush mattress, knees braced by your softer pillows, before reaching behind you to plunge yourself with your fingers. two of them slide in easily, and you crook them just right until you’re mewling. moaning. crying.

simonsimonsimon—

your orgasm is a sharp rip of euphoric release. but the tidal wave of your ecstasy wafts off into its remnants just as quick because this, fucking yourself, isn’t the fix you want. it isn’t the fix you need.

(that said, making simon buckle was a lot easier said than done.)

you parted your legs yourself, planting your hands on the underside of your thighs to pull them open for simon. simon laughs when he saw this, his pale cheeks so flushed with his own desire.

“hurry,” you whine, all choked-up with your desperation, and simon only croons a warning.

“we need ta’prepare you, pup. i’m too big f’r you.”

his acknowledgment makes you leak, your wanton thoughts turning into slick that gushes out of you. simon laughs, so utterly endeared.

“i prepared myself, si! please put it in!”

simon sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. “i thought you wanted my cock?”

he waits for you to nod. you do so, careful, as your wet eyes look up at him.

“hmm. so listen to daddy, yeah?”

“okay,” you mumble, too overwhelmed to fight back.

simon smiles, murmurs his praises, and then he’s bringing his head between your legs. you squeak, surprise dotting your vision. you expected simon to prepare you, yes, but you expected his fingers—long, rough, thick—and not his tongue—

“siii-monnnn,” you keen, legs buckling from your hold until they tumble to his back, your strength getting zapped out of you at every lap of simon’s tongue.

it’s so good! so, so good!

simon takes over, hooking your legs over his shoulders himself as he burrowed deeper, nose grinding against the sensitive underside of your sex. his tongue pushes against your walls, sliding between them, and then simon sucks.

fuck! fuck—

sorta pt 02

[luna0713hunter]

Lover,Please stay

CEO!Sukuna is a big shot,every women and men's dream. Sometimes you wonder why he settled for someone like you.

The wine tastes bitter on your tongue as you take your first sip; wincing slightly. You've never been a fan of drinking,but when your rich boyfriend invites you out for some, who're you to say no? So you suck it up,and try to swing the drink around your glass instead of actually drinking it.

And it doesn't help that the liquor is bringing out all your doubts you've been having recently.

Instead,you try to focus on the man beside you; Sukuna is busy downing his third whiskey cause he's an absolute freak when it comes to drinking. His pink hair is out of its usually neat shape, probably because of the rough day he had at work; and you watch with careful eyes as he reaches his nibble fingers toward his tie and loses it while he throws back the last of his drink.

"you're staring."

You hum absentmindedly; hating how lightweight you are unlike your boyfriend. You've barely had a few sips for god's sake.

"and what if i am?"

But now, you're staring at the reddish liquid in your glass; your thoughts running wild in your mind. Because even if you want to; even if you desperately wish to, you cant ignore the whispers and giggles you hear from the tables near you. You cant pretend to not see the lustful gazes of the women all around you as soon as your boyfriend had stepped inside the bar.

And you surely cant not hear them giggling among themselves with nothing but vemon in their tone.

"oh my gosh,look at that hottie!!"

"hold on- is that...his partner?!"

"that cant be- i mean- look at HIM!"

"i know right?maybe he's just doing it out of pity or something?"

And you dont know if its the alcohol, or you own mind, but suddenly the bar feels too suffocating.

Too crowded. Too loud.

And its not really your fault; you've been having a shitty week, and you just wished to spend some quality time with you boyfriend. You didn't want to spend your Saturday night in a shitty bar,with some rich ass girls talking shit about you and your relationship.

And its the last straw when you hear their next words.

"oh screw it; I'm gonna hit on him! I'm sure he'd bored out his mind and need a break from his lame ass partner!"

"obviously they're not doing well; they haven't talked much since they walked in!"

So without a word,you suddenly stand up from your sit; slamming you glass hard on the wooden surface of the bar. Sukuna immediately looks your way, lips parting to say something, but you dont wait to hear what it is.

You just grab your purse and rush out of the door, almost stumbling to tables on your way out.

You think they might be laughing at you, but honestly you dont care. You just need some fresh air to cool your head.

And to stop the tears from falling on your burning cheeks.

You turn sharply in the alley just next to the bar; pressing your back to the cold wall behind as you slide down on the ground below. You hug your knees close to your chest as the first sob breaks through your lips.

God,you hate crying; specially because of what others say.

And you know; you know Sukuna's way out of your league. You know a hotshot like him can have anyone he wants,yet he settles for someone like you. You know all this, but that doesn't make it easier to hear it from others.

When you hear heavy footsteps inside the alley,you immensely start to brush your cheeks and eyes harshly; but your hands are immediately stopped midway by a pair of rough ones grabbing onto your wrists.

When you look up through teary eyes,Sukuna sighs at the sight of your red rimmed eyes and blushed cheeks.

"you're such a lightweight. How much did you even drink?"

"it's not because of the drink," you mumble, pulling at your hands to which Sukuna doesn't let you, "i didnt even finish my wine."

"then why are you crying,huh?" He sighs again, raising rough fingers to brush your tears away with such care that has you tearing up again. Sukuna 'tsks' and wipes your cheeks once more, ”tell me what's wrong."

You bury your face in your knees to avoid looking at him.

"you must've heard what those women said,Ryo. Dont play dumb."

"so what?"

You snap you head up.

"so what?! doesn't that bother you??"

Sukuna scoffs, shifting slightly. His dark eyes shine even in the barely lit alleyway,and you swallow upon seeing the look on his face.

He looks utterly pissed.

"why the fuck would it bother me what a bunch of good for nothing losers say?" He hold your chin and lowers his face until you can feel the his hot breath on your lips, "nothing in this world matters. Nothing. Except you,me,and us."

When your eyes water again,Sukuna sighs presses his forehead against yours.

"the world's gonna talk shit anyways; whether we like it or not. And i dont give a shit what other's think, because nothing will change the fact that i love you."

When you look up at him with wide, bleary eyes,Sukuna scoffs and pinches your cheek rather roughly.

"dont give me that look; I've said it before."

"Well!" You grumbled through pinched cheek, "you dont say it enough!"

An evil smirk makes way on his pink lips,and your face heats up when his fingers dance across your hips.

"then," you shiver as he pushes at the hem of your dress; taking hold on your upper thigh with a dangerous glint in his eyes, "guess I'll have to show it to you, don't you think doll?"

Your eyes flutter close when he finally presses his lips to yours; and right there and then,you know Sukuna never lies about loving you. After all, he's been always a man to show his love through his actions rather than words.