#it’s only happened a few times but every single time it’s happened it was when i missed stream

[saintclay]

1) the first thing that you find strange (other than this whole dimension hopping thing) is that your chat isn't actually visible. they're not audible either (except for when someone sends a TTS message. those are audible inside your head). instead it feels like you're just... aware of everything that your chat is doing and saying.

its a strange sensation, but you get used to it.

2) from what your chat tells you, you surmise that your stream is still being broadcast. you're not entirely sure what would happen if the stream went down, but you're not super eager to find out. your gut tells you that the answer is 'nothing good'

you're not fully sure exactly where the stream is actually being broadcast from. you're also not sure if you want to know the answer to that question.

3) before you dimension-hopped your streams tended to average around 20 viewers. from what you've gathered, that number seems to have stayed the same. from what your chat says, you've deduced that they see you from a fixed point about a foot behind your head (diagonally). 4) people tend to think you're a lot more observant than you are. you don't notice shit half the time, you just have the advantage of a few dozen extra eyes on everything you're doing.

after the first few times you got sick enough of explaining it to people that you bought some costume jewellery and started telling people that it was a family heirloom, attuned to you by blood, that let you run multiple streams of thought at once. anyone who cares enough to ask normally buys that.

5) chat convinced you to join a low-level adventuring group. your cousin used to do archery professionally, so you bought a crossbow and agreed.

turns out, you were NOT cut out for adventure. like, at all. at least, not when you started. but you could cook a decent meal (thanks to chat's help), so the group let you stay until you actually got decent with your crossbow.

you still didn't like it very much. you parted ways with your group after the tavernkeeper who hired them found out that the reason his barmaid wasn't coming into work was because she got mugged. they stop by every now and then and it keeps re-affirming your decision to bow out of that whole 'adventure' thing. last you heard they were going off to fight a dragon.

6) it isn't uncommon for you to wake up and have your chat inform you that they researched things while you were asleep. it is, however, rare that you can actually do anything with that research.

you keep telling chat that it doesn't matter if they know how penicillin was made if you're not sure if penicillin can grow here. you've made trying to figure that out into a side project to get them to stop hassling you

7) your stream had (and still has) three people who have mod status; BlueLuna, Devilsound, and taiLwhip (yes, spelled like that). they're the only ones where you can tell that they're talking. the rest of chat feels almost like a single entity to you.

(you chose your mods for a reason, Luna and taiL because they're your friends, and Devil because they've been in your chat since day one. from what you can tell, they've been keeping your chat in order)

8) you want to go home you want to go home you want to go home you want to go home you want to go home you want to go home

as far as you can tell, there is no way to get home

9) someone in your chat apparently brews alcohol as a 'hobby'. they seem intent on teaching you, with the reasoning that, at the very least, fermentation can't be too different here.

you'd rather not know if there is a different way of making wine here, honestly.

10) you keep waiting for it to get better. for the homesickness to fade

it doesn't.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Can I request a fic where like reader and the salesman are married and they both work for the games. Where like instead of being a recruiter, reader is a guard? So one morning they’re both getting for the game.

game time ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪.

A/N: decided to make reader a waitress for the VIPS because the guards get ready at the games or whatever… and I feel like it’d be complicated ash to write lol

WARNINGS: mentions of canon typical squid games murder, very ooc recuriter but IDGAF SMD

MASTERLIST

Every single year, ever since you’ve been hired at 18, you’ve had the same routine before the games. Put on your uniform, your ugly black mask, and keep a stoic face the entire time you’re serving them.

At least it pays.

Now, while you would still dread getting up and working, preparing for the terrible treatment from the VIPS that would last weeks, at least you had him by your side.

His eyes were still shut, his chest slowly rising and falling with an arm lazily draped over your body. You traced patterns over his biceps, glancing down at the finger that had his ring on it.

A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips despite the pain that tugged at your chest when you knew you’d have to leave this for a while, leave him for a while.

The worst part now, about getting up and knowing you’d have to go back to that island? It was leaving him.

In a few mere moments after, his eyes fluttered open, and he had a small, graceful smile on his face when he was met with the sight of you. He glanced down upon feeling your touch on his skin, letting out a raspy chuckle when he saw your hands on his biceps, tracing circles on him.

“Good morning.” He murmured out quietly, his eyes narrowed, and you could tell he was still half asleep.

“Good morning.” You replied in the same volume, and your peaceful moment was interrupted by a sound of your phone ringing.

You let out a huff, smile faltering as you picked it up and put it to your ear.

“Hello, sir.” You spoke, hearing a sharp voice cut through.

“I expect you to be at the jet in 3 hours. Don’t be late.” He spoke, before hanging up.

You put your phone down, looking back at him.

“How much time do you have?”

“Three hours.” You sighed out.

“Oh. Well, I suppose should probably get up anyways.” He said, remembering his plans for the day.

The both of you sat up, him letting out a low groan as he stretched his arms before standing up, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips.

Both of you made your way to the bathroom at the same time, picking up your toothbrushes and beginning to brush your teeth. You stole glances at him through the mirror, letting out a little giggle when you saw him with some white paste on the corner of his mouth, and you saw him smile at the sound.

He spoke incoherently, toothpaste still in his mouth.

You furrowed your eyebrows at him, and he leaned down to spit in the sink, rinsing it out.

“What?” He spoke, amused tone in his voice, watching you lean down to spit out the toothpaste in your mouth.

“Nothing. You just look silly when you have toothpaste in the corner of your mouth.” You told him, moving your thumb up to his face and wiping it off for him.

He wiggled his eyebrows, “I look silly?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, his smile widening as he moved quickly, making it so he was behind you as he tickled you, you letting out loud fits of laughter.

“Stop! Oh my god, stop!” You squealed out, grin on his face as he continued his attack.

Eventually, he stopped, proud grin on his face as he continued to brush his teeth and run a hand through his hair as though nothing had happened.

You then hopped into the shower, knowing you wouldn’t get another nice, hot shower for another couple days. It’s usually only colder, communal showers on the island. He was in the kitchen, getting breakfast ready for the both of you.

With your towel wrapped around your body, you went into the closet, moving your clothes and going to the back, picking up your standard uniform, throwing the mask onto the bed behind you.

You began to put it on, and he watched as you struggled to tie the back of your apron. He walked back into the room, a small smile on his face as he made his way towards you.

“Here.” He mumbled, you turning around. He helped you tie it quickly, looking at how you looked at him through the body length mirror next to the bed.

His hands went to your shoulders, and he leaned down to press a kiss against your covered shoulder blade, before moving away, breaking his gaze away from your reflection. He went to the closet as well, you moving to sit down on the bed.

He shuffled through clothing and landed on a suit, picking it up and putting it gently onto the bed before going to his belts and pants.

“Do you have to work today?” You asked him with a tilt of your head.

“Unfortunately.” He hummed out, “I have to look at potential prospects for next year. That, along with some… other clientele scouting. It’s mostly computer work,�� he waved his hand. “Light stalking.” He spoke as he removed his ring and placed it on the dresser, something he did each year.

He wanted to protect you, saying how that if someone had come for him, and they saw the ring, they could come looking for you. And he .would never forgive himself if that ever happened

“Ah.” You nodded, watching him give you a small smile when he turned, before stripping down into his boxers and beginning to change.

You watched the clock tick and the minutes pass by, a gnawing feeling eating at you each time. God, you were gonna miss him, you thought as you sat down to eat with him.

The both of you ate in silence, simply enjoying each others presence for the last couple days. He picked up both plates, making his way to the kitchen and placing the dishes in the sink.

“We should get going soon.” He told you, glancing at the clock while drying his hands off.

“I know.” You sighed out, and he gave you a sad smile, picking his car keys and briefcase up and waiting for you at the door, watching you scramble across the room for the rest of your belongings and your bag.

“C’mon,” he murmured, hand on the small of your back as you both left the house, you glancing back one more time.

He opened the passenger door for you, him getting in the drivers seat.

“So… what are you gonna do?” You asked him, to which he replied with a small shrug of his shoulders.

“Work, mostly. Just to distract myself.”

You pouted at him, and he glanced at you before turning back to the road.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.” He assured you. “Plus, it’ll be better to put some more into savings.”

“I wanna quit, anyways. It’s… too much. The VIPS, the frontman, the games…”

“You know he wouldn’t like that.”

“I know.” You replied quietly, looking down at your lap.

Upon seeing your upset state, he thought for a moment, before he let out a sigh. “But… I can see what I can do.” You turned to him now, intrigued. “I’m indispensable, aren’t I? If he wants to say something to you, I’ll threaten to leave as well.”

You had a soft smile smile on your face at his words. “Really?”

“Really.” He spoke firmly as he nodded, and pulled up to the hangar, flashing his ID to the guard that stood there.

The gate opened, and you exhaled heavily as your eyes landed on all of the other waiters, along with some of the guards.

He pulled his car into park, leaning back in his seat before getting out, rounding the car and going to the passenger seat once more, opening it for you. You got out, and wrapped your arms around him quickly. He let out a chuckle, wrapping his arms around you as well, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“I love you.” He told you quietly, leaning down to hold your face in his hands.

“I love you too,” you replied, and gave him another smile, before pecking his lips. “I’m gonna miss you. Like a lot.”

“Me too.” He admitted. “But it’s alright, we’re gonna see each other in a few weeks, and I’m gonna pick you up right here, yeah?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, him smiling at your reply. He leaned in to give you one more kiss, your lips moving against his, letting out a sigh when you pulled away.

“Goodbye, love.” He told you, you smiling, giving him a wave as you began to walk over to the jet, him giving you a small wave back with a smile on his face.

His smile fell as he watched the jet leave, running another hand through his gelled hair, letting out a sigh as he thought about what he was going to do now.

[russo-woso]

Mine || UNC!Alessia Russo x reader

Request | Masterlist

Warning smut 18+, strap on, fingering, cunnilingus

Summary Alessia gets jealous when the captain of the football team flirts with you at a party

The dorm room was lively, the beat of the music surrounding you.

Everyone had at least one red cup in their hands which was ultimately filled with some kind of alcohol.

The room was stuffy, the air hot.

Your body was sweaty and hot, but despite it all, the smile on your face was no where near close to disappearing.

“There you are!” You cheered, spotting your girlfriend on the sofa in the corner of the room.

As you approached, Alessia pulled you onto her lap, her arms wrapping securely around your waist.

“Hi baby.” You smiled, the English girl kissing lightly at your exposed shoulders - the straps of your dress having slightly slipped down your shoulders.

“Your dress is too short.” Alessia mumbled, her wandering hands moving down to your thighs.

“Lessi…” you whined

“My girl, you look so gorgeous in the dress but I want to be the only one to see your—”

“—alessia!” You exclaimed, hitting her chest as you took the last sip of whatever was in your cup. “Come, let’s dance!”

“Babe… I’ll stay here and watch you. You can give me a personal show.” She suggested with a smirk

“Alessia, please.”

“Pretty girl, you know I don’t dance.”

“Fine.”

With a scowl, you turned in the opposite direction, getting lost in the crowd of college students.

“What’s with the frown?” You heard a voice say, the voice low and masculine.

“What do you want, James?” You asked, rolling your eyes as he stepped closer.

“Isn’t this weird? Every single time I come to a party, you’re also here. And every single time, we end up bumping into each other. I’d say it’s fate.” He said, that smug smile on his face.

James was the captain of the football team and with you being the lead of the cheer team, he assumed that you were meant to be together.

“James, every time this happens I tell you the same thing. I love Alessia, not you. Just get over me will you! Just leave me alone.” You told him, raising your voice slightly.

“Come on, babe, don’t be like that.” He smirked, resting a hand on your hips which you immediately tried to push off.

“She said to leave her alone.”

“And what are you going to do about it, Russo?” James spat back, his face full of disgust as he set eyes on Alessia.

Alessia’s jaw tightened as her face turned red with anger.

In one smooth action, her fist swung, hitting James’ face.

“We’re going.” Alessia said, grabbing your hand before turning towards the door.

“What the fuck, Russo!” James shouted, holding his nose which was almost certainly broken - the tip of it pointing in a complete opposite direction.

“Good luck playing tomorrow.” You smirked, knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to play.

“Fuck you, Y/N.”

“You wish.”

—

The way back to Alessia’s dorm was quiet, a lingering tension between the two of you.

“Less, I didn’t want him to talk to me. I tried to get him to go away.” You said, eventually breaking the silence as you walked through the door.

“I know, baby girl. I just wish he could understand that you’re mine. Not his. You belong to me.” Alessia whispered the last few words, her lips inching closer and closer until there were millimetres between you two.

“I’m yours, lessi.”

Alessia leaned in, connecting your lips ravenously.

The brute force of the kiss was enough to push you against the wall.

You moaned as Alessia’s tongue grazed your top palette.

Her hands sat strongly against your waist, her nails digging into the dress that clung to your body.

Your mind was everywhere.

The whole situation with James, Alessia’s lips trailing down to your neck, the grip she had on you.

Your head span as you tried to focus on one thing.

The taste of beer on Alessia’s tongue was evident, but the taste of jealousy of was more evident.

You knew she was acting like this because she got jealous.

Alessia’s lips attacked your neck with purpose, her teeth digging into your skin before her tongue soothed the sting.

“Lessi…”

“Shh baby girl, let me show you that you belong to me.”

Your head fell back against the wall at her words - them clearly having an effect on you.

She reached for the hem of your dress, her fingers pulling at the fabric before pulling it above your head.

Her lips reattached themselves to your body, this time even lower.

“Jump.” Alessia muttered, catching you effortlessly as your legs wrapped round her waist.

She carried you to her bed, placing you down before crawling on top.

“God, you look so perfect beneath me.” She breathed out whilst her hand undid your bra.

Her tongue licked over your nipple - which hardened at the contact.

“Fuck, lessi.” You moaned, grabbing at the back of her neck.

“So beautiful.” She whispered, her thumbs sliding under the waistband of your panties.

“Less… please.”

“Tell me what you want, gorgeous.”

“I want you to fuck me, I want your tongue.” You told her, a smirk appearing on her face as she kissed at your inner thighs.

Slowly, she slid your panties down your legs, throwing them somewhere in the room - not caring where they land.

“Spread your legs for me, baby.” She said, you instantly obliging and spreading your legs wide for her. “Good girl.”

You whined at the compliment, Alessia smirking as you did.

“Such a pretty pussy. All mine.”

“All yours, lessi.”

She groaned at your comment, her tongue flattening against your pussy, pulling a moan from your mouth.

“He doesn’t get you like I do. He doesn’t get to taste you, he doesn’t get to touch you.” She mumbled against your pussy, sending vibrations rattling across your body.

Her tongue got to work, flicking at your clit before sucking harshly at it.

You bucked your hips into her mouth, pleasure coursing through your body.

“Fuck lessi - oh god - you’re making me feel so good.” You said in between moans, gripping at her hair.

Her hands gripped your thighs to stop you from moving.

“Stay still, pretty girl.” She warned, her thumbs rubbing absentmindedly over your thighs.

Alessia added more pressure onto your clit.

She was desperate to watch you cum - Watch you cum and know that it was her that had made you cum.

“I’m so close, lessi.”

“I know, love.” She rasped out, bringing her fingers to your dripping hole.

Her middle finger pushed into your entrance with ease.

She moved her finger in and out with the same purpose as she’d started with.

Adding a second finger, she decided to start sucking on your clit again.

Soon enough, she found your sweet spot, continuously hitting it with brute strength.

“Oh my god - ‘m gonna cum lessi. Oh fuck, alessia.”

“Cum for me, baby. Cum on my fingers.” The desperation in her voice was just as evident as it was in yours.

Your jaw dropped as you screamed her name, her fingers still pumping in and out of you to get you through your orgasm.

“Oh my god.” You muttered, your chest heaving as you attempted to catch your breath. “That was—”

“—I’m not done with you yet. You’re gonna take my dick like a good girl.” Alessia told you, grabbing the strap front her bedside table.

You’d recently started exploring within the bedroom with toys - the strap being by far your favourite for the both of you.

With expertise, she put the harness upon herself, the silicone in between her legs.

You blushed when you saw the strap on her - there was something about it that you found so unexplainably hot.

“Remember what we spoke about?” Alessia questioned as you nodded, your voice too shaky to speak.

“Words, baby girl.”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Alessia started walking towards the bed again but instead walked towards her wardrobe.

“Put this on for me, love and get on your knees.” Alessia commanded, handing her football shirt to you.

Alessia loved seeing you in her clothes but even more her shirts with her name on your back.

You did as she said, her name now sat proudly on your back as you waited for her to fuck you into space.

“Fuck.” Alessia groaned, her hand now resting on your back whilst the other lined up the tip with your entrance.

You whined as she pushed the tip in, the stretch causing a light sting.

“A little bit more, gorgeous. Such a good girl taking my cock like this. You could never take anyone else’s dick, could you? Only mine.”

“Only yours, less.”

Your words triggered something in her mind and without a second thought she started pounding in and out you.

You grabbed at the duvet cover as she thrusted in and out.

You let out a cry when the strap hit that particular spot.

Your moans were muffled due to head being buried in the bed.

“You look so fucking perfect, baby girl. Being such a good girl for me.” Alessia praised, her hands gripping your hips as she pulled you back and forth onto her cock.

“Oh my god. Fuck — Less, please don’t stop, baby. You feel so fucking good. Please don’t stop.” You babbled as the strap repeatedly hit your sweet spot.

“I won’t, pretty girl.”

Alessia continued to pound into you, her hands now moving to massage your ass.

A loud smack was heard as a bright red male appeared on your ass and despite the pain, all you could think about was the pleasure.

“Less… I’m so fucking close. Please let me cum.”

“Tell me you’re mine and then you can cum.”

“I’m yours, lessi. I’m all yours.” You cried out as Alessia lifted her leg onto the bed, thrusting even harder into you.

“Cum for me, baby girl. Cum on my dick.”

You didn’t have to be told twice, your whole body shaking as you collapsed onto the bed.

Alessia rubbed your back as she guided you through your orgasm.

“Are you okay?” Alessia whispered in your ear as she leant down next to you.

“I’m perfect.” You smiled, pecking her lips. “I think you should get jealous more often.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you, pretty girl?”

“I would.” You hummed in agreement, a tired smile across your face.

“Let’s get you showered and then we can cuddle, okay?”

“Shower with me?” You asked

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

[lokidjarin-7567]

The Alchemy

Hwang In-ho (professor AU) x Reader

Your chemistry professor caught your eye the moment you walked into class, and as time went on, you couldn’t deny your feelings anymore. Did he feel it too, or were you doomed to heartbreak?

fem!reader x Professor Hwang In-ho, smut, fluff, a little angst and everything in between, badly edited, multiple POV, 18+ MDNI

8.5k words (sorry not sorry)

And here it is!! I’ve been obsessed with him for a while now, so very glad Squid Game is giving him the recognition he deserves from a Western audience. Decided to da a Professor AU because yum, so hope you enjoy x

Taglist: @nicki-lovesolderfictionalmen @jamiewritesfanfiction-blog @nunita23

TTPD Contents | General Masterlist | AO3

You knew it was wrong. Your obsession with him. Everything about him was thoroughly captivating to you: the way he spoke, the way he dressed, the way he walked around the lecture hall with such confidence. You were enthralled every single lesson, so attentive and studious, hanging on his every last word like it was some kind of spell for everlasting life. Really, if you thought about it, it was actuallly a good thing. Your grades were better, you hadn’t missed a single lecture since the term began, and you were putting more effort into your studies in a desperate effort to impress him. And the cherry on top of the cake was that he had noticed. He knew you by name, he always picked you first if you had your hand up, and he even added complimentary comments to your papers. Even if he was old enough to be your dad, even if there was a power imbalance, even if nothing could ever happen between you, your crush only continued to grow stronger.

“I know, I know, class is nearly over, but we’ve got a few more things to cover, so let’s wake you all up with a little organic pop-quiz.” A few groans echoed around the room, but you smiled. Organic chemistry was your favourite, especially when he taught it, so you watched as he drew a few molecules on the whiteboard. A formula, and a damn easy one.

“Can anyone tell me the primary product here?” Your hand was up before the question was finished, but you tried to limit your keen nature - only half-raising your hand lazily as you doodled the finished equation on your notepad. You liked to think you were quite good at hiding your adoration for him. Yes, you could listen to him talk for hours, but you knew when to watch him and when to take notes. You knew when to speak up and when to stay quiet. You could control your face, aside from the occasional blush, never sitting there with puppy-dog eyes or biting your pen like they do in the movies. You were subtle - small smiles after a compliment, gazing with admiration when he wasn’t looking, answering any questions quickly but with professionalism and confidence. The perfect student. But you never, ever flirted. You knew that was academic suicide, especially with a Professor as influential as him. You were content with detached obsession. For now, at least.

Your heart did flutter, though, at the smile and small chuckle he gave when he saw your hand.

“Of course, the only student I have that actually enjoys organic…” You heard a few hums of agreement from the students behind you, saw the nods from the ones in front. You smiled at your reputation.

“What can I say, at least you always have someone to answer your questions…” Another laugh, music to your ears.

“That is true. Go ahead.”

“Well, that’s ethanol and that’s ethanoic acid so you would produce ethyl ethanoate.”

“Ah, I made it too easy for you! Should have mixed up the length of the polymers so you would have to think about which prefix came first.” Another flash of a smile.

“Rookie error.” You joked, and it was the closest you’d ever been to flirting. The back and forth was making you blush, the way his eyes were fixed to you from the front of the classroom. You were in your usual spot in the third row - the perfect distance to see him clearly, but not too close to look keen. Although, that point was kind of defeated by the amount of times your hand was first up, no matter how nonchalantly you tried to do it. His eyes were glittering with a slight playfulness now, head slightly cocked and you were bewitched as a few locks of his neat hair fell across his forehead.

“In that case, come and draw it for me please.” Fuck. He looked pleased with himself, hand brushing the fallen strands back, small smirk playing across his features. You sighed, heading to the front of the room in defeat. He handed you the whiteboard pen, fingers brushing yours just slightly. They were soft, delicate and warm, and his eyes were firmly fixed on you as you muttered a quiet thank you. You didn’t get to see him this close often, but you didn’t have time to take him in beyond the deep brown of his eyes, his height compared to yours, and the light scent of sandalwood that seemed to cling to the air around him even after he had walked past you back to the front of the room.

“While she’s doing that, can someone else tell me the uses of this ester please?” You were grateful your back was to the rest of the class, a furious blush spreading across your cheeks at the proximity. He glanced back at your shorthand sketch, giving you a small nod of encouragement.

“Good, and in full please.” You obeyed wordlessly, just finishing the second bond on the oxygen when the bell rang.

“That’s it for today then, everybody. Check the online portal for the homework.” He called out above the sound of bags being packed. “Oh, and there are more practical classes this term, so your timetables are also on the portal for those. I know they’re boring, and I know you’ve done them all a million times, but you have to do them again to pass!” He sighed, half the class already gone by the time he finished his sentence. He turned back to you, holding his hand out with a smile and you passed the marker back to him, careful not to brush his hand this time. As much as you wanted to feel his skin against yours again, you would blush too obviously to get away with it. “Thank you,” he said to you quietly, “I know at least one student will show for the practicals.”

“No worries.” You didn’t want to leave yet, allowing yourself to enjoy the being around him a little now the rest of the class was clearing out. He was wearing your favourite suit today - charcoal grey wool - with a soft, baby blue shirt and a navy tie. He was meticulous as ever: understated silver tie pin perfectly level, tie itself knotted immaculately, hair brushed back neatly. Even his shoes were perfect, not a single scuff on the leather. Being around him like this was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but talk to him just a little more as the last student filed out of the room. “What will the first practical be, out of interest?” You asked, forcing yourself to move back to your desk and slowly pack up your things.

“Just a distillation, I think...” He replied, trailing off and absentmindedly flicking through a few papers on his desk. You nodded, sensing his loss of interest, slinging your bag over your shoulder with just a hint of disappointment.

“Ok, sounds good. Thank you Professor…” You turned towards the door, but froze when you heard him call your name. You turned back around to see him looking at you slightly expectantly, a nervous energy buzzing from him that you’d never seen before.

“Before you go, I was just wondering if you’d picked an advisor yet? I know the decision is coming up in a few weeks.”

“No, I haven’t actually…” In all honestly, you had two options. And he was one of them. Of course he was. He was the best in the university, not to mention one of the best in his field. You learnt the most from him, you had the best relationship with him compared to the rest of your Professors. There were only two reasons why he wouldn’t be a perfect choice. Firstly, he was very picky with who he takes on, but if this conversation was going the way you thought it was, problem solved. The second, and much bigger, issue was your little obsession. If he was your advisor, you would see him one-on-one every two weeks at least, on top of class time, practicals time and in between all of that if you had questions. And for most people that had a crippling crush like you did, they would be jumping for joy at the opportunity to spend more quality time with them. But you didn’t want that. You didn’t want to make a move on him, or make your feelings for him obvious because it could destroy everything you had worked so hard towards. But equally, having him on your side was a great accolade, and it would do you wonders in your academic career.

You were a big girl. You could handle a little crush.

“Well…” He continued, hand running through his hair again before starting to pack up his own things. “I would very much like to fill that role unless you had anyone else in mind. You’re incredibly talented, and passionate about the subject in a way I don’t see often. You don’t have to decide right now, of course…”

“I would love that.” Your mouth had answered before your brain caught up, but his wide smile solidified your resolve.

“Excellent. Well, how does Friday sound for our first meeting? I think that’s when you’re scheduled for the practical, so that makes it easy…”

“That sounds perfect. Thank you, again, Professor Hwang, I appreciate the opportunity…”

“Not at all. The pleasure is all mine.” His wide smile warmed your heart thoroughly, and you left before you could melt into a puddle on the floor at the nature of his words.

It had been a couple of months now, and dear God, it was driving you insane. You’d made a huge mistake, and unfortunately for you, it was an unfixable one. He was the perfect advisor in every way - attentive, intelligent, willing, passionate, everything you could ever want. But being so close to him was driving you crazy. Once a fortnight, it was just you and him in his office, talking for an hour, joking, laughing, fighting every urge in your body to climb across the desk and give in to your desires. You had even started to dress up for him - purposely putting in extra effort the days you knew you had a meeting. The crush was getting much worse too, obsession starting to take over. For days after your meeting, all you could do was analyse every tiny interaction you had, every time he looked at you or spoke to you or even breathed differently. And fucking hell it was driving you insane.

You were sure it was getting harder to hide too. Before, it was less of a crush, more an admiration. Yes, you were aware he was attractive, but more than anything, you were capitavated by his teaching and passion. Now, all of that was still true, but all you could think about was how much you wanted to fuck him. Twice just that week you had missed half the class caught up in a daydream, not even being able to answer him when he called on you, too busy thinking about him bending you over his desk and having his way with you. Your last paper got a B because every time you tried to write, all you could think about was him reading it. What he would be wearing when he graded it at home. Comfortable clothes, surely, hair messy and uncouth. What he would think of it, whether he would smile at your words and add little notes when he agreed with what you were saying. Whether he truly thought as much about you while reading it as you thought of him while writing it.

You’d fucked up. You’d gotten too close, irreversibly so, and now, you had to see him today. You knew he would have something to say about your grades dropping. It was getting too obvious. You just hoped he would accept whatever bullshit you managed to invent on the spot. Your knuckles rapped against his office door, heart stuck in your throat.

**

She had caught his eye the minute she stepped into his lecture hall that first day of term. He wasn’t sure what it was exactly about her, whether it was her eyes, or hair, or lips. Or maybe it was just her. The confidence she seemed to exude, her sense of style, the studious and determined look she always seemed to have on her face. She was the most active participant in his classes, and every time he called on her, she would answer with such enthusiasm and excitement. He could tell how much she genuinely enjoyed the subject from the very first lesson, and even as the term continued, her passion didn't waver like some students’ did. She hadn’t missed a single lecture - always there in the same spot on the third row, and he was grateful for her choice of seat. It was close enough to see her, not too close to make it obvious that he was staring, and it was also far enough into the classroom that he had time to admire her while she made her way to her seat. To watch her while she was focussed elsewhere - namely, walking down the stairs without falling over. He enjoyed the time it gave him to work out how she was feeling on a day, whether she seemed dejected or excited, shy or outgoing. He liked how easy it was for him to read her.

And, if he was honest with himself, he liked the attention too. The first time he saw her, he knew he would be head over heels for a little while, and he accepted that. She was his student, and nothing could happen, so he buried it and got on with his lectures as usual, with only a few extra glances thrown her way when he knew she wouldn't be looking. But then he noticed it. The coy smiles, the extended glances, the occasional time he caught her biting her lip or pen. The way she blushed furiously if he ever caught her in the act. The first few times, he wrote it off as coincidence and wishful thinking, but eventually, it clicked that there was something there. Something charged. And he thrived off that energy.

That was why he had put forward the idea of being her advisor. If he was honest, he knew it was a terrible idea. That it could get messy, that he could get too close, that he would hurt his own feelings. But ultimately, he wanted to be near her as much as possible, and at the end of the day, in every scenario of shit hitting the fan, he was always the one that got fucked over. His feelings were clearly stronger than hers - something he had noticed recently swelling in his heart unreciprocated - and he was the one with his job on the line. He was the only one at risk, and he was willing to take that risk to be closer to her.

Recently, though, she’d seemed different. Distracted. Stressed. Avoidant. Her grades were dropping, she was barely talking in class and when he spoke to her one-on-one, he would catch her shrinking back into herself if she laughed too much, as though she was second guessing everything she did. He’d done everything to hide his feelings, and honestly, he thought he was doing a good job, but maybe she felt uncomfortable around him. Maybe he was being obvious and he’d misread her feelings. Or maybe she was just going through a rough patch in her personal life.

He had a meeting with her today, and he couldn’t think of anything but seeing her for the whole day. What she would be wearing, how or if he would broach the topic, what he should even say to her… He was struggling to concentrate on his lectures, mind wandering to her.

The relief washed through his body when he heard her knuckles softly knock against the door. He was worried she wouldn’t even come.

“Come in.” She opened the door cautiously, small smile on her lips. She looked more beautiful than she ever had somehow. She wasn’t wearing much makeup, just some natural blush and mascara, and her hair was down and framing her face perfectly. Her outfit was simple but classy; all black, simple satin skirt and skintight tee, chunky knit cardigan over the top.

“Hi Professor.” She replied cheerily, but there was a hint of something unreadable in her voice. Weariness, maybe? Stress? “How has your day been?” He smiled as they fell into their usual chatty routine, mind slightly at ease.

“Not too bad, thank you, although a few too many lectures for my liking. How was yours?” She laughed lightly, the sound warming his heart.

“Same problem for me too. A lot of lectures, none of them particularly interesting…” it seemed as though she wanted to say something else but bit her tongue, and he couldn’t help but feel himself deflate. He wanted her to be able to feel more comfortable around him, but she was holding herself back.

“That’s because I wasn’t teaching them…” The words fell from his lips before he could stop them, but to his relief, she smiled, a small chuckle escaping from her.

“Something like that.” She paused for a beat, seeming awkward and unsure. “Look, Professor, before we get into the stuff about my dissertation, I just wanted to talk to you about something…” The serious nature of her tone made his heart lurch, and he wanted to reach out and hold her hands, to drain away her evident nerves. She wasn’t even meeting his eyes, just wringing her hands in her lap as she tried to say what she needed to.

“Of course, my office is always an open space to talk about whatever you need to.” He hoped his words were comforting, and by her small smile, they had at least offered some small reassurance.

“I just wanted to apologise. I know my grades have been slipping a little the past few weeks, and I just wanted to make sure you knew that I’m on it and I’m doing everything to get them back up. I think I’ve just been a little distracted, and I don’t know really…” She was rambling, and his heart hurt for her. Yes, he had noticed her grades slipping a little, but it was from an A to a B for maybe two papers and a quiz. It wouldn’t affect her overall grade, and it certainly wouldn’t affect his opinion of her. He couldn’t help but wonder why she felt the need to apologise or explain herself.

“You have no reason to apologise. Everyone has better weeks than others, and it’s not going to affect your performance in my class or anything like that…”

“But…” she looked confused, as though she was genuinely trying to figure out why he wasn’t annoyed with her. “You’re Professor Hwang. I mean, you’re the best in your department, maybe even in the whole university. You pick your students that you want to advise because they’re the best, and I’ve not been…”

“First of all, I definitely am the best Professor in the *whole university*, thank you, but more importantly, that’s not why I pick people to mentor. I pick people based on their passion, talent, and work ethic. Not because they’re a machine who churns out A* papers every single week and has nothing else going on in their life that might affect that.” Once he’d finished talking, he looked up at her to see her close to tears, still staring at her hands in her lap.

“I, um…” she cleared her throat, finally meeting his eyes with a gratefulness he hadn’t seen in her before. A vulnerability he didn’t recognise, but wanted to see more of nonetheless. “Thank you for saying that. Really. None of my other Professors seem to think in that way.” Then under her breath, barely audible, she added something extra. “Neither do my family for that matter.”

“Well, as I said, my office is always open. If you ever have something you need to talk about, I’m here.”

“Thank you, truly.” She replied earnestly, and found himself struggling to reply as his heart swelled. He hadn’t realised how protective he felt over her until he saw her upset, but now, hand clenched by his side at the thought of someone making her feel unworthy over a few grades, he realised that maybe his feelings had blossomed a little more than he wanted them to.

The day after was another practical class. Just a titration, a check box more than anything with the calibre of his students. They knew what they were doing. Especially her. It would hopefully be an easy half hour; just let them do their thing, tick it off in the system, and be finished with it.

What he hadn't banked on, however, was the student that seemed to spend his whole time flirting with her.

She had been the first in the classroom that afternoon. She seemed tired, the last lesson after a likely busy day, but even more so than usual, her normally flawless makeup doing little to hide the puffy bags under her eyes. Her outfit was clean and put together, but a lot more basic than what she usually wore, just jeans and a baby tee, with none of her usual quirky flourishes. He was about to ask if she was ok, to talk to her more than the perfunctory hello she had thrown his way at the door when another student entered the classroom close behind her. The whole space was empty, but he decided to sit directly beside her. She seemed annoyed, making polite small talk but not much else and he just didn't seem to be taking the hint. He was leaning too close, laughing too loud, looking at her for too long…

His own jealousy surprised him. It was rage, pure and simple, white hot and blinding. He felt inordinately possessive, wanting nothing more than to shove him across the classroom and teach him a lesson about personal space, but as more students piled in to the space, all he could do was glare and hope he got the hint. Eventually though, she solved the problem herself. He had been so close to interfering, so blinded by anger he had started to move towards her bench, but she just stood up, and walked away from him mid sentence, ignoring him completely. The look of shock on his face was priceless, but the joy it brought him was quickly replaced with anger once again as the kid shifted in his seat, blushing red and muttering ‘bitch’ under his breath. If In-ho had a knife, he genuinely could have killed him in that moment. Because how fucking dare he.

But instead, he breathed in deeply before moving over to him calmly and giving him a menacing, tight-lipped smile. The student met his eyes with a perplexed look, but he just spoke over him before he had a chance to say anything else.

“If you ever talk about one of my students, let alone a woman, like that again, you will be barred from my class and the entirety of the chemistry department for the rest of your academic career, both at this school and wherever else you may choose to study. Is that crystal clear?” He said it so calmly, so coldly, that the kid just sat there in stunned silence for a moment, and he had to raise his eyebrow to prompt him to answer.

“Um… yes… yes Professor.” He stammered, and he smiled again without any warmth.

“Good, now find a new desk and complete your practical, or else you’ll have to retake my class, and you really don't want that, do you?” He shook his head frantically, scrambling away with his things and finding a space near the back of the room.

She looked confused for a moment when she got back to the now empty bench, but on glancing around the room and meeting his eyes, she smiled warmly at him in gratitude, blush spreading across her cheeks. He would do anything if it meant she smiled at him like that.

It had been an hour, and apart from one broken conical flask, there had been no major mishaps, and almost all of his students had finished their titrations. Except for her. She was on her fourth attempt now, the last student apart from her silently filing out of the classroom, and she was getting increasingly frustrated each time. He was trying to be subtle, to not make her feel pressured at all, but he couldn't help but watch as she turned the stopcock so slightly, letting a single drop fall into the flask, and he watched it turn colour perfectly… until the stopcock wasn't closed properly, another few drops sneaking through and pushing it past the end point colour.

“Fuck!” Every other attempt, it had been a quiet frustration, hidden under her breath, but this time she couldn't help it, cursing loudly and slamming her hand on the table. He could hear her heavy breaths even from across the room, her hand dragging through her hair in annoyance. She almost looked close to tears, just staring at the failed experiment. He muttered her name in concern, standing up ready to help her, but she just shook her head, grabbing the flask and heading to empty it.

“I’m so sorry for my outburst, Professor, my language was completely inappropriate…”

“No that’s not it at all, curse all you want…” He moved over to her desk as he spoke, but she was busying herself setting up again, not meeting his eyes. So he said her name again, firmly but kindly, garnering her attention without upsetting her. It worked, and she stopped moving for a moment, slightly out of breath in frustration. “Are you ok? You don’t seem yourself at all…” She was grinding her jaw as he spoke, trying to hold her emotions back, but a tear fell from her eye regardless, rolling down her cheek. She huffed loudly, wiping it away quickly and looking to the ceiling, trying to blink back the other tears that were threatening to spill.

“I’m fine.” She insisted, but her voice cracked as she did, another tear escaping as she muttered another curse under her breath. “Sorry, I’m just wasting your time today…”

“Never.” He said firmly, moving to her side of the desk. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t know what going on, I just can’t seem to…” another tear rolled down her cheek, his heart broke for her.

“Hey, take a second, just breathe, ok? Sit down, cry if you need to, just take a moment.” She nodded, sitting down on the lab stool with a snuffle. He sat down too, tucking his stool slightly closer to her and waiting until she was ready.

“I’m sorry, I think I’m just overwhelmed. I didn’t sleep too well last night, so I’ve been exhausted all day. One of my professors gave me shit for being late even though the bus broke down on my way here, and that ruined my mood. Another lecture turned out to be some surprise test thing nobody had prepared for so that was horrible. And… well I’m just rambling now and I don’t know if I’ve told you this yet but I might as well at this point because I guess it’s something you should know as my advisor - I have general anxiety disorder and…” she paused, catching her breath and scoffing slightly as she continued speaking quickly, “well, and a whole host of other things I don’t have time to go into but I’ve spent most of the afternoon warding off panic attacks hence the…” She trailed off, holding up her hand which was shaking like a leaf. “So I can’t focus, I can’t control the equipment even though I’ve done at least 30 titrations in my academic career and I was honestly just looking forward to seeing… to doing something practical with my day but…” He didn’t think she’d even noticed the tears starting to fall, but he did immediately. He also noticed the way her voice was getting breathier, and the increasingly frantic look in her eyes. He was worried. She seemed worn out, way too thinly strung and now here she was, crying over an experiment he knew she could do in her sleep. She needed to take care of herself for a bit, to take it easy. But right now, maybe he could help.

His hand moved to her face, brushing the tears away before moving to her shoulder and squeezing.

“Hey, slow down. Look at me. Breathe.” He took a long deep breath, his eyes fixed firmly to hers as she copied, repeating the action a few times. He watched as she slowly seemed to calm, shoulders dropping and tears drying up. “That’s better.”

“I’m so sorry, this was only supposed to take like half an hour. I’ve derailed your whole afternoon, I just don’t know what’s come over me today.” He sighed. The way she felt she had to be sorry for being human made him feel so protective of her, so willing to hurt anyone who made her feel this way.

“You’re stressed, you didn’t sleep well and your anxiety is flaring up. None of that is something you have to apologise for. And you definitely don’t have to apologise for derailing my day - my evening consists of grading papers and getting an early night. Both of those things can wait even if this titration takes all night.” She laughed, wiping away the last of her tears with a grateful smile.

“Thank you.” Her hand moved to rest atop his, which was still sitting on her arm, squeezing slightly. His breath caught briefly at the contact, and it took all the self control in his body to not lean into her touch, to kiss her then and there.

“Always…” he muttered, smiling softly, and after another beat, he slid his hand away, feeling cold at the lack of warmth from her. “Now,” he took a deep breath, grounding himself to reality. *Student, teacher, do the maths - not a good idea.* “Let’s finish this practical.”

**

His presence was so calming to you. After four failed attempts, you were already doing a lot better - hands steady, breaths even, a serenity you hadn't felt all day. He wasn’t even helping you; just being nearby was enough. He’d grabbed a few papers from his desk and was quietly grading while you worked, the occasional turn of paper and scratch of pen relaxing you. It was starting to get to the difficult part now, but your hands didn't fail you, adding the titrate drop by drop, swirling the flask until… it stayed pink. Just enough, a soft wash of magenta, and you couldn't help but grin.

“See…” he muttered, not once looking up from his papers, “I told you you could do it.” You smiled even wider, holding back every urge within you to hug him.

“Thank you.” You settled on the sentiment instead, jotting down the final measurements. “And…”

“I swear if you try to apologise again, I will kick you out of my class once and for all.” God he knew you so well. You chuckled lightly, biting your tongue to stop you from apologising for that as well.

“Never again, I promise.”

You had packed up, moving as quickly as possible to ensure you didn't waste any more of his time, but honestly, you wanted to be around him just a little longer. Today had taught you that maybe your ever-growing feelings might not be a problem, but a help. He was so calming to be around, so good at putting your doubt and anxiety at ease, and talking to him was easy, terrifyingly so. His company was soothing, and on bad days, at least you knew you had a place to go.

And now, you had to face the long bus to your off-campus apartment, followed by an evening alone with your thoughts.

You had sorted your things, putting on your coat and pulling up the hood, bracing yourself to head out in the dark and rainy evening.

“Thank you again for everything, Professor, I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Wait…” he called out your name as you opened the door, and you paused, internally sighing in relief. “How are you getting home?”

“Just the bus from campus, its not far to the station from here…”

“I’ll take you, I’m leaving here anyway.”

“No, I couldn't ask you to do that, Sir…”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering. Where am I taking you?” You blushed at his comment, heart leaping at the authoritative tone, but telling him anyway. “That's only a few streets away from me, it’s not out of my way at all.”

“Only if you’re sure…”

“I wouldn't have offered otherwise.”

You had made it to the awning of the building, the last moment of peace before you were bombarded by the rain. He followed you out, sighing slightly.

“Do you smoke?” He asked, and the question surprised you slightly. He’d never struck you as the type, but now, as you turned around to see him standing with a cigarette dangling between his lips, you couldn't believe how natural it looked.

“Yeah…” You were relieved. You had been desperate for one all afternoon, but hadn't had a chance. You moved to open your handbag, unsure of where you'd left them, but he had already extended his pack out towards you. You smiled.

“Thank you…” He lit yours first, shielding it with his hands for you, and you couldn't help but notice how close he was to you. He lit his own, and you watched it awe at his beauty as the lighter illuminated his face. His first drag was long and desperate, the deep sigh he let out when he breathed echoing your own relief. You wondered if that's what he’d be like when you were on your knees for him quiet but needy, hand running through his hair and…

“What are your plans this weekend?” You blushed, not at the question but what it had distracted you from, taking a drag while you composed yourself.

“Not much, just studying, finishing a few papers, the usual.”

“No plans with friends? A boyfriend?” He asked almost shyly, then blushed profusely. “Or girlfriend, or partner… sorry I didn't mean to assume.” You laughed at his embarrassment.

“No, no plans. Friends are all out of town or doing the same as me, and no boyfriend to have plans with.” You weren't sure why you felt like you had to clarify that. It was an instinct more than anything, something in you felt like he should know. “What about you? Any plans?”

“Nope, no plans either. Friends are all married with children, so they don't have weekends anymore. And my brother is out of town with work, so that just about rules out everyone.” Your heart sung at the lack of a girlfriend or wife mentioned, but you somehow managed to control your face. “I got a new jigsaw I might try…” You couldn't help but laugh out loud at that, and he laughed with you. “Sorry, I know thats like the oldest old person thing I could've said…”

“No I just… I was thinking the same thing but didn't want to seem old.” His turn to laugh loudly, a sound that warmed you through.

“You don't have to worry about that…”

“Neither do you.” You had replied quickly, without thinking, and suddenly the air was charged. He was looking you in a way that was unreadable, almost curious but there was something else brewing just under the surface. His eyes were locked onto yours, and you found yourself unable to look away, not letting yourself to be the first to break contact. You weren't sure what it was about today - maybe just because of how shitty you’d felt the last few days, how kind and caring he had been, how many times you’d been in touching distance of him - but you wanted him to know you were an option. Even if it was a bad idea, if it could ruin both of you, if it could destroy everything you'd ever worked towards… you suddenly didn't care. You needed him to know you were here, arms open and waiting, if he ever wanted you.

The car ride was quiet, silence only broken by the occasional attempt at small talk. It was as though the look you had shared earlier had shattered your ability to speak to each other normally, a cloud hanging over the both of you, threatening to pour. Eventually, you pulled up outside your building, and your heart broke that it was over. You had to leave now, to be alone in your flat, to try and relax without thinking about him. His touch, his laugh, his smell.

“Thank you for the lift.” You managed to croak out after sitting silent for a moment, voice laced with disappointment you didn’t have the energy to hide.

“Anytime.” He muttered back, and your hand moved to the door, eyes glazing over at the sight of the raindrops hitting the car window. You weren’t sure why you didn’t just leave, open the door and run inside, out of the rain, out of the tension. Maybe it was the weather, pushing you to take comfort somewhere warm and welcoming. Or maybe it was the scent of sandalwood and cigarettes that clung to the leather surrounding you. Or maybe it was the way your arm was still tingling where he had touched you earlier, his hands warm and expansive and calming. It didn’t really matter though. Regardless of the reason, you still chose to open your damn mouth one more time.

“I don’t want to wait until Monday to see you again.” Your voice was barely a whisper, barely audible, but from the way he muttered your name warningly, he heard. You flushed furiously, feeling so fucking stupid. You’d ruined everything. He was your advisor, your professor, your whole support system felled in one swoop. God, you were an idiot. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I’ll go.” You reached for the handle again, tears springing to the corners of your eyes.

“Wait.” His voice was… well, you weren’t sure. It sounded frustrated, sure, but also, there was a desperation in it. A need. He didn’t want you to leave either. “God, I’ve thought about how this might go so many times and never once landed on what I’d want to say.” There was a lump in your throat, and your hands fell back into your lap, turning to see the slightly pained expression on his face, almost pleading. His hair was messy, one hand raking through it as his eyes met yours. “There’s obviously… I mean it’s undeniable the way I… but I just…” He was so nervous, eyes scanning across your face frantically. “I’m your advisor. I’m your Professor. I’m in a position of authority here, its a power imbalance and I’m old enough to…” You had sat calmly listening to him ramble, so grateful that your feeling weren’t unrequited that you didn’t care what other excuses he would try to come up with.

“I don’t care.” He whispered your name again in warning, but softer, and you could see his resolve eroding with every second he was in your presence. “I mean it. You said it yourself, it’s undeniable. And now we’ve addressed it… what’s the harm in trying?” He still looked confused, pain wrought into his features as his eyes locked onto yours. And then, it was like you could see him accept that he couldn’t stop this now. That he didn’t want to. The fear gave way to longing, his hand cupping your jaw in a way that made your breath catch in your throat.

“I need you to…” The nerves were still clear in his voice, but his hand was definite, thumb brushing your lips and you leant into the touch, body naturally caving towards his. “Please tell me your want this. I need to be sure.”

“I want this.” You were so firm in your response, so final, he had no choice but to believe you.

He leant in, cupping your face in his hand, touch so strong, so definite, that any residual doubt melted away as his lips touch yours. It was fleeting, unsure, but not a moment before he had pulled away, you pressed back into him. Your kiss was desperate and bruising, hard and needy and full of months of pent up desire. He returned so fervently you sighed into his mouth, relief and arousal washing over your body. His hand moved to grip your hair, keeping you close, and you cursed internally that you were still in the car, centre console blocking your body from his. You were desperate to touch more of him, to feel his skin under your fingers, to run your hands across the ridges of his chest and up his arms. His grip was still strong in your hair, but you broke for air, watching with a smile as his lips chased yours. His evident need spurred you on, hand moving to rest against his chest and grip the pressed fabric of his shirt as you shared the air in the space between you.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” He muttered half-heartedly, but his blown pupils and subtle smile told you differently.

“Do you want to come upstairs?”

The elevator ride was tense, hand gripped in his, half expecting him to run away, but as soon as your door was open, his lips smashed into yours once more. His hands explored your waist, pressing you to the now closed door, body touching yours slightly. His mouth was saying something different to his body language: lips hungry and needy, body cautious. You were more confident, hands falling to his back and pulling him as close as possible to you. He groaned in response, a low guttural sound that left you panting into his hot mouth. You wanted to gasp his name, but you realised you didn’t know it, embarrassment clouding your mind. You pushed it away immediately, hands snaking round his solid form to his tie, loosening it like a woman starved and throwing it to the side.

“Hey…” he muttered alongside a pant of your name, fingers tracing your face in a tender way, “are you sure you want this?”

“More than anything.” The answer fell from your lips without you even thinking about it. You needed him. He smiled against your lips, hands trailing from your waist to your hips, an invitation. You started to undo his shirt buttons, hands finally coming into contact with his warm skin, hips bucking towards his. A moment of insecurity washed over you. You were young, younger than him by a long way, and while it didn’t bother you, you couldn’t help but wonder if being with someone with so much less experience would bother him. He’d asked for your assurance twice now, and you had just assumed he wanted the same. Maybe he was just here so he didn’t lose his job…

“Is this what you want too?” You whispered, so shy and unsure you could feel the blush spreading across your cheeks.

“More than anything.” His fingers traced your lips, eyes meeting yours, and he must’ve sensed their slightly hesitant nature. “Since the minute you walked into my classroom, I’ve wanted this.” He smiled slightly sheepishly then, eyes flitting down to scan your form. “You were wearing cord flares and a white tee, leather jacket slung over your bag. You looked so confident, so excited to be in my class… you weren’t even looking at me yet, but I saw a glint in your eye that reminded me of myself in my youth. Everything about you intoxicated me from the moment I locked eyes with you. I want this.” The last statement was so final, so raw, you gave in fully. You smiled, looking deep into his eyes to see them unwavering.

“In that case..” you muttered, puling away from his just slightly, pulling your shirt over your head before unbuttoning your jeans, letting them fall to the floor. He stepped back while you were undressing, eyes darkening as they scanned your whole body with desire.

“Fuck…” he muttered the word quietly to himself, continuing to look you up and down in a way that made you blush profusely. He followed suit quickly, slowly undoing the rest of your shirt buttons with a slight smile. You couldn’t help but gaze half-lidded at his bare form, muscles rippling with every deep breath he took. “Where’s your room?”

Your bra and his trousers were long discarded, your bare form pressed to his as he laid above you, hand resting by your head, holding him up as he devoured your mouth. His kisses were getting lower, pressing against your neck and chest as you could do nothing but pant at his every touch.

“Sir, are you…” you didn’t even finish your question, words lost in your tongue as he bit down softly against the pillowy flesh of your breast, a groan escaping his lips against you at the name you had chosen in the heat of the moment.

“Shh..” the soft sound escaped his lips as he continued to move his lips lower until his fingers hooked your pantries, pulling them down slowly, savouring your squirming.

“What are you…” your words were lost yet again as his mouth enveloped your bare pussy, tongue pressing a firm stripe through your folds. You moaned loudly, the sensation enveloping you as you pressed your hips further towards his mouth. He hummed in satisfaction at the movements from you, hands gripping your hips tightly as your thighs surrounded his head. His tongue was expert, circling your clit with perfect precision and you bucked into him again with a whimper, desperate for some direct contact. He chuckled against you, smiling up between your thighs and you could’ve cum there from the sight of him.

“Relax…” he muttered, surly tone immediately forcing your muscles to loosen, pressing into the bed. His tongue flicked across your clit, and you squirmed, pants and whines filling the room as he continued his assault on your sensitive nerves. “Good girl…” his voice rumbled against your cunt, almost pushing you to the edge there and then.

“Please…” was all you could force out, words jumbling in your mind as the pleasure started to take over. One hand released from your hips, and you barely registered as two fingers pushed inside you, thick and deep. You groaned, an animalistic noise drawn from the back of your throat as he hit the spot inside you that made you sing. Every inch of your body was on fire with need as his fingers filled you, tongue continuing its relentless attack on your clit. You were all but an incoherent mess of moans and pants as he kept going, pleasure building and building close to the point of being too much, nerves burning with desire as he feasted on you like a man starved. It didn’t take long for your orgasm to arrive, fast and brutal, blinding you as your thighs squeezed around him, sobs and whines falling from your lips as you rode out the waves on his tongue.

By the time you had caught your breath, his face was an inch from yours, pressing sloppy kisses your jaw and neck. You whimpered softly, feeling the slick he had left between your thighs. You wrapped your legs around his, blinking up at him stupidly.

“I want you…” his lips cut you off, deep and passionate as your words were swallowed by hood’s mouth. He tasted like you.

“You have me. Body and soul.” Your heart leapt at the sentiment, hand brushing through his hair with affection.

“Then fuck me.”

He was pressed against your back, and was impossibly deep inside you, hitting that spot that made your back arch. His hand was tangled in your hair again, lips to your neck as he somehow pressed deeper, and your hand found his thigh, holding him there.

“You feel so good.” You whispered, fucked out and satisfied, already multiple organs in from his perfect cock.

“I’m close baby,” he muttered against your ear, grinding against your ass as you whined for him so beautifully. He fit so perfectly inside you it felt handcrafted, and he groaned softly as he pulled out quickly, slamming back inside as his hips started to stutter. “So pretty, so perfect for me…” his hand reached around to your used clit, pressing gentle circles as you cried out. You would do anything for him, but you were exhausted and overstimulated, a few tears brimming in your eyes at the bliss and pain it provided.

“Please..” you whispered for the uncountable time that night, hips backing into his as he groaned, deep and animalistic. Your orgasm washed over you as he finally came, moaning against your neck as his teeth clamped down carefully.

“So fucking perfect…”

You felt so effortlessly relaxed beside him, sleep encroaching quicker than it ever had. You were exhausted and spent, but happy. Everything you’d wanted for months but refused to admit to yourself had come true, and tomorrow, you’d have to face the reality of it all. But for now, you were at peace, head rested against his chest and feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breaths. Your slumber had started to take you, eyes fluttering closed, when you heard his voice speak softly, as though trying not to disturb you.

“I hope this moment last forever.” You thought confirming his sentiment would somehow diminish him, or scare him off, pretending your sleep had pulled you under, but your heart swelled in agreement. You never wanted to leave this place.

[omamervt]

Ok so while yes, City of Mist is incredibly simple to play in actual practice, it does have a LOT more character management rules than most PBTAs, and the Tracking Card system is something you really have to see in practice to understand.

Plus, while it's my understanding that the divided Player Handbook and MC Toolkit clarified a handful of things that were missing or unclear in the original Tome, I was not gonna spend $70 on two books to replace my single $50 one, and besides, we had started before Knights of Payne Town crowdfunded.

So long story short, there were a handful of things that, when we started, I was unclear on how they worked, and what their limits were supposed to be, and so I, wanting to be a "Good DM" (my only other experience at that point was D&D 5E) decided, "power to the players!" and let players add as many tags as they wanted to rolls.

(legitimately, the only point in the original tome I could find that said there was a 3-power tag-limit was a play example, it wasn't in the base rules in the gameplay section! Apparently it was buried somewhere I wouldn't have thought to look, but I didn't know that until much later when I was talking about something in the Facebook group.)

I also was kinda lax about the single-scene effects of some moves, because it came up so rarely. And, on the MC side, I was so nervous about not using stuff after over-preparing scenarios for the first few sessions that I'd developed a habit of delaying stuff until the party had a chance to arrive.

For the most part, I was still able to make an engaging adventure by taking advantage of what you could do with NPCs' power tags/statuses, but then The Incident happened.

Now, there were probably some other contributing factors here. First, one of my players had recently joined a D&D table, and between that and the way I'd handled my table, he was starting to develop an attitude that I was supposed to indulge anything he wanted to do so long as he rolled a Great Success. And for reasons I still don't understand, the entire party had chosen to just straight-up ignore information one of their allies had given them, opting to spend the rest of the session trying to find some other piece of evidence to back up what he was saying, but weren't satisfied with whatever I gave them.

As written, the Investigation move in CoM says that you can ask as many questions as you have Power invested on a Great Success. So this dude dumped 6 power tags into an Investigate, and spent an hour dragging it across 3 locations, upset I wasn't giving him the answers he wanted, but not telling me what he wanted to learn beyond "what are we supposed to do next," but like the rest of the party, was unwilling to accept "you already know where your target will be next. The lead you were given was real!" I ended up having to call the session early, I was so mad.

That player might have still developed the attitude that I needed to indulge every success, especially after joining the D&D game, but if I had trusted the samples in the book and every other sample of play I'd heard elsewhere, then he would have gotten 3 questions, max. If I had restricted his investigation to a single scene like I knew I was supposed to, he wouldn't have been able to drag it out for an hour.

And if I'd followed the general PBTA GM principle of "treat the world like it's alive and the story doesn't solely revolve around your players," they would have simply seen that they weren't being lied to on the news after their target did what they knew she was going to do, in the place they knew she was going to be, and got away because they were all wasting time elsewhere.

They still wouldn't have been happy, probably, but there's not much I can do about that, since they wouldn't tell me why they were rejecting clues like that.

Yes, that's the short version of events.

It ain't easy making it as a TTRPG design studio when it takes a baseline amount of effort just to convince a lot of people that your profession is even real. Like, those rules and numbers, we didn't just fill the pages up with a bunch of random nonsense, we put those in the rulebook for a reason, so that following them would result in particular challenges and experiences.

Game design is real! It is possible to play a TTRPG wrong, because the TTRPG's rulebook exists solely to tell you how to play this particular TTRPG right, and in a well-designed game, that will lead to a particular experience that the authors are trying to sell you.

[chrattho1]

bsf!chris x reader!!

“what took you so long?”

summary: chris is in love with you more or less,he never made a move on you though,always scared that might ruin your friendship. but now that you’re taken,he wants you even more. in your grey set that he loves so much,you come around for a movie night and he is painfully hard the moment he sees you walk in.

warnings: male masturbation,pet names(?) idk what else to put in,not proofread

a/n: this is a blurb for my bsf! chris au,find more of it here

“we’re not watching cars for the third movie night in a row chris!” you snatch the remote from his hands and settle down next to him on the bed.

too close for his liking. dont get him wrong being close to you only makes him happy,the way you smell,the way your hair smells and sometimes tickles his face when you move. but right now he is focused on covering his lower body with the covers,to say that he is bricked is an understatement.

“do whatever man,and can you move i feel nauseated by your perfume” he puts his head on the headboard,trying to act like he is not in excruciating pain

“woah there,whats got you all riled up?” you ask him,moving your face towards him

“nothing im just snacky,mind getting me some snacks from downstairs?” he asks with a sincere smile.

you nod thinking nothing suspicious of it,he does get hangry alot so this was nothing new,you walk out the room telling him to pick a movie before you come back

chris watches you walk out,your ass swaying in perfect sync,in that soft material that sticks to you. his thoughts not helping him one bit. he quickly puts a hand under the covers,reaching his hand down to adjust himself just a little bit before come in again. that slight friction from his hands making him bite his lips.

“okay..i got you skittles and pepsi,thank you for restocking redbull before i come,you know me so well” the comment earning you a wink from chris to which you smile,his cheeky behaviour is not-not normal to you,thats how he has always been.

you both settle on watching “how to lose a guy in 10 days” , chris lost the rock paper scissors game.

not even halfway through the movie,you notice chris moving every few seconds “motherfucker could stay still for a moment im trying watch the movie!” you scream at him clearly not having a single clue about the agony he is in right now.

“my allergies are making me itchy” chris says lowly knowing you’re too focused on the movie currently.

“im going to go to the bathroom” he finally decides he’s got to do something about it or else he might come in his pants just by looking at you for so long (he has been staring this entire time,ofcourse), you nod in response watching him go up to the bathroom in his room.

“turn the volume up will you? i wanna hear whats happening in the movie” he says standing by the doorframe of the bathroom,his oversized hoodie kinda covering the tent in his sweats.

“i can just pause it until you come back weirdo” you shrug at him with a mouth full of skittles.

“nah,i might take a little while” he smiles at your disgusted face,watching as you turn the volume up.

he closes the bathroom door behind him and lets out a huge sigh,he looks at himself in the mirror not believing what he is about to do with you sitting right outside.

he pulls his sweats down,looking down at his boxers which have a dark patch growing on them.

he cups his dick through them,biting his lips to prevent letting out any sounds.

he strokes himself a couple of times over his boxers before pulling them down,his cock desperate for touch more than ever. his tip swollen and leaking.

his thumb spreads the bead of pre-cum leaking from the tip,making him moan softly,his hand drags from there to the base of his dick,slowly starting to pump his cock in his hand.

“fuck” he curses softly,thinking about you who is in his room right now,sitting on his bed,the bed that he has imagined doing the most unimaginable things to you on.

“oh-shit” his strokes get faster,the contact of his hand with his dick making sounds,but the movie is still louder outside.

“chris!” he hears you call him outside,but he doesn’t respond,scared his voice might betray him and let out a moan.

hearing your voice only made him closer,closer to cumming,cumming on your face,cumming in you,cumming in your mouth,these are all the things he thinks about,that grey set stained with his release.

“fuck-f-fuck-oh—-fuck ma- im-gon” his voice breaking apart,his whispers so low not a chance you could hear him.

“ah—shit” with that,white ropes of cum spray all over his hoodie.

his legs trembling for a few seconds,he knew he was going to cum hard but…this is a mess.

he quickly gets rid of the hoodie,balls it up and throws it into the laundry basket that he started keeping in the bathroom after nick told him too,thanks nick-he thinks.

he was still wearing a black tee under so he wasn’t walking out shirtless,its not like you’ve never seen him shirtless but he wanted to be decent (?)

he quickly cleans himself up and walks out of the bathroom in a record of 6 mins. yes .

he quickly sat down next to,now comfortably snuggling close to you.

“what took you so long? and wheres your hoodie?” you ask him,noticing that his hoodie is not on him anymore

“had some bad food for dinner last night,and the hoodie was making me hot and itchy” he smiles at you when you reply with an “ew” not questioning his response.

taglist: @espressqe @ginswife @nononononshahsbba @sturnsburna @carolina454 @hope2244 @hotgirlbl0gger @violetstxrniolo777 @riggysworld @verycoolmiyah @kier-with-a-k @fadedstvrn @purpledreamertyphoon @mattsplaything @numberonekiddie @whore4chris @chris-hallelujah @sl4ttformattsturniolo @annsx03 @mattsdemi @chrisslittleslut @chrislittleslut @poolover123 @luvvnai @chrissturniolossidehoe @pompomprrin @idkwhatthisis2009 @harmonysturniolo @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @soph-loren @ccsturns @lovesturni0l0s @chriss-slutt @wysmols @sturniolosluttt @mattsdillion @alyssa-sturn @herewegoagain-b @bilssturns @sturnobessed @mxnsonn @izzylovesmatt @sturniolosymphony @chrissturnioloswife88 @sxphiee3 @purpledreamertyphoon @whoreforchrissturnniolo

[insidekatmind]

Your Brother's Best Friend- Noni Madueke

Wearning: slight smut

Request: yes!

Being Levi Colwill’s younger sister wasn’t always easy, especially with how protective he was of you. Ever since you were little, Levi had always kept an eye on anyone who came near you, which made you feel safe but sometimes a bit suffocated. Now that he played for Chelsea, his life was a whirlwind of training sessions, matches, and, of course, his teammates.

Among them was Noni Madueke. His radiant smile, contagious energy, and the way he joked with you every time he came over were impossible to ignore. You found yourself looking for any excuse to spend even a few minutes with him whenever he came home with Levi after training.

“Y/N, are you really staring at the wall, or are you watching someone?” Levi’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts as you sat on the couch. Noni had just gone into the kitchen to grab a drink, and, of course, your eyes had followed his every move.

“What? No! I’m just… thinking!” you replied, trying to sound casual. Levi raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Uh-huh, sure. Keep your eyes off my teammates, okay? Especially Noni.”

“Oh, come on, that would never happen!” you lied, trying to hide the blush creeping across your cheeks.

Right at that moment, Noni walked back in with his signature grin and a couple of jokes ready to go. “What’s the topic? Hope you weren’t talking about me, eh?”

Your heart did a somersault, but you just laughed nervously. “Nothing important, we were just chatting.”

He gave you a curious yet kind look, the kind that made you feel like you were the only person in the room. He asked you about your university course, and as you talked, it felt like the rest of the world disappeared.

When Levi noticed that Noni was paying you just a little too much attention, he stepped in. “Alright, enough chit-chat. Noni, let’s go. We’ve got clips from yesterday’s match to review.”

Noni chuckled but, before following Levi, he glanced back at you. “See you later, Y/N.”

And as your heart raced, you couldn’t help but hope that “see you later” meant much more than just a quick chat.

The next day Noni shows up at your house.“Hi, if you're looking for Levi, he's not at home right now,” you say, trying to act normal.

Noni’s cheerful smile widens upon seeing you.“I know, I came to see you, actually,” he replies, his voice oozing confidence.

Your heart flips. He came to see you? Why?

A hundred thoughts race through your mind, but you try to hide the excitement bubbling up. “Me? Why?”

Noni takes a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours.“I figured I needed a break from all the football talk. Plus, I wanted to spend some time with a beautiful girl.”

Your cheeks flush at his compliment. It’s hard to think straight when he’s standing so close to you.Clearing your throat, you manage to stutter out a response. “Wh-what do you want to do then?”

Noni grins, enjoying the flustered look on your face.“I don’t know… maybe we could have a quick chat? We’ve never really talked much just the two of us, have we?”

You nod, feeling a mixture of nerves and excitement. Spending time alone with him is both thrilling and terrifying.“Sure, yeah, we can chat.”

You let him into your house while you try not to freak out and close the door.

Noni follows you inside, his presence filling the room as you both find a place to sit down. He flops onto the couch, completely at ease, while you perch nervously on the edge of the armchair opposite him, trying to slow your racing heart.“So,” he begins, a playful smile on his lips, “What shall we chat about?”

Your mind goes blank for a moment as his piercing gaze fixates on you. You’re used to seeing his carefree smile and hearing his jokes and banter. Being alone with him feels different. Suddenly, your brain can’t seem to come up with a single topic of conversation.“Um… I don’t know… you tell me,” you say, attempting to sound casual.

Noni leans back on the couch, one arm stretched out across the back, still gazing at you intently.“Well, let’s see… what’s your favorite color?” he asks, with a smirk.

You smile in amusement at his question. "Do you want to know my favorite color?"

Noni chuckles, enjoying the exchange.“I do. It’s a very important question.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile on your lips. You can’t believe he’s asking about something so trivial.“Fine. My favorite color is purple.”

Noni raises an eyebrow, pretending to consider your answer.“Purple... interesting choice.”

You can’t help but smile at his exaggerated response. “What’s yours then?”

He pretends to think about it for a moment, though you’re sure he knows his answer immediately.“Mine is whatever color your cheeks turn when you’re embarrassed.”

You blushed at his words and looked away, biting your lip to hide the smile that was breaking out of you.

Noni watches you intently as the blush spreads across your cheeks. He clearly enjoys the effect he has on you.“See, that’s the color I’m talking about,” he grins, pointing at your flushed face. “That’s the prettiest color there is.”

You try to regain your composure and look him in the eye.“You say that to every girl, don’t you?”It’s a half-joke, but there’s a hint of insecurity in your voice. Noni’s smooth with everyone, why should you be any different?

Noni cocks his head, his smile faltering for a moment. He seems to pick up on the hint of vulnerability in your tone.“You think I say that to every girl?” he asks, a flicker of seriousness in his expression.

You shrug, trying to play it cool. “I don’t know, you seem pretty charming with everyone around.”

Noni leans forward, his eyes locked on yours.“Maybe it’s different with you.”

Those few words send a shiver down your spine, but you keep your cool and raise an eyebrow skeptically. “Oh really? What makes me different?”

Noni contemplates his next words for a moment, his gaze intensifying.“It’s just… when I’m with you, it doesn’t feel like a game. It feels different. Real.”His words hang in the air, making your heart pound even faster. You’re not sure if he’s just flattering you or if he really means what he’s saying.

You try to keep your voice steady, not wanting him to realize how much his words affect you.“Real how?” you ask, searching his face for any hint of insincerity.

Noni takes a moment to reply. When he does, his voice is softer, more sincere.“With you, it’s not just about the football or the banter. I like talking to you. Genuinely. It feels like we’re actually connecting, and I don’t feel that with just anyone.”

You smiled softly at his words and you could feel the butterflies in your stomach.Seeing your soft smile, Noni's gaze softens further. He leans back against the couch again, watching you intently.

"You know, I don't think you even realize how cute you look right now," he says quietly, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

Your heart skips another beat at his compliment. You quickly look down, trying to hide the redness in your cheeks that you know is giving you away."Stop it," you say with a shy smile.

But Noni’s not finished. He moves a little closer to you, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone."No, seriously. You're so damn cute when you're flustered."

You can feel his eyes on you, making you feel a mix of nervous and exhilarated. His proximity is intoxicating, and the air between you feels charged."I... I'm not trying to be cute," you stutter, still unable to meet his gaze.

Noni chuckles, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you."I know you're not trying. That's what makes it so adorable."

You finally muster up the courage to look at him, and when you do, his gaze pins you in place. It’s intense, almost overwhelming. But there’s something else in his eyes too – a hint of desire, and a flicker of something deeper.

As he speaks again, his voice is barely above a whisper.“You drive me crazy when you blush like that, you know.”

You gulp, feeling the truth of his words sink in. The way he’s looking at you sends a shiver down your spine."I..." you start, but your voice trails off. You can’t form a coherent thought with him so close and his eyes on you like that.

He notices your struggle, and a slow, languid smile curls at the corners of his mouth. He obviously enjoys having you at a loss for words.

The tension between you grows more intense by the second. He slowly reaches out and places a hand on your knee. The touch of his fingers on your skin sends electricity through your body."You know," he murmurs, moving his face closer to yours, "I'd love to see just how red you can get."His words are like a flame igniting a fire within you.

You can feel your heart racing in your chest as he inches nearer. He's so close now you can smell his cologne, a perfect mix of spicy and musky. All your rational thoughts seem to disappear, leaving only the pounding in your chest and the burning desire in your veins.

"I..." you begin again, but he cuts you off with a knowing smile.

"Shh," he whispers, bringing his fingers to your lips delicately."Don't overthink it. Just let me do this." His other hand moves up to caress your cheek, the pads of his fingers soft against your skin. You’re lost in his eyes and the sensations he's evoking within you that you barely notice him leaning in even closer."Just... relax," he murmurs, his breath warm on your face.

He's so close now you could count every one of his eyelashes. Your breaths mingle together, and you feel as though the world has shrank to just the two of you.With a tender yet firm touch, he slides his hand behind your neck, pulling you even closer. The way he touches you is electrifying, sending sparks through every nerve in your body.

"You're trembling," he whispers, his lips so close to yours now you can almost taste them. "Are you nervous?"

You nod. It's a lie. You’re not nervous. You're overwhelmed, excited, yearning.

"Good" he says, the word a hot breath against your mouth. "That means you want this as badly as I do."

And then, finally, his lips brush against yours. It's a soft, hesitant touch at first, as if he's testing your reaction. But as soon as your lips respond eagerly to his, he leans in further, deepening the kiss.Your mind goes blank, consumed by the feel of his lips on yours, the taste of him on your tongue. Every nerve in your body is alive and on fire.

The hand on your neck tightens, pulling you against him. Your bodies are flush now, molded to each other. His free hand slips from your knee to your waist, pulling you even closer. The contact is almost dizzying.

He breaks the kiss momentarily, his forehead resting against yours, eyes still closed."You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do that," he whispers, his voice hoarse with desire.

You let out a shaky sigh, your head reeling from the kiss. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, gripping them tightly as you try to ground yourself."You... you have?" you manage to ask, your own voice sounding foreign to your ears.

Noni opens his eyes, his gaze intense as it locks with yours."For weeks. Maybe months," he admits, his fingers idly tracing patterns on your waist.

"I've wanted you from the first moment I saw you."His confession sends a thrill through you, making your heart pound even louder. You can’t believe he's been harboring this kind of feelings for so long."But... why didn’t you say anything?" you ask, searching his face.

He smiles at your question, but there’s a hint of sadness in his eyes."Your brother would've killed me," he laughs quietly.

The mention of your brother snaps you back to reality for a moment. It’s true. Levi would absolutely lose his mind if he knew about this.You bite your lip, not wanting to think about that right now. Right now, you just want to be with Noni and forget everything else.

Noni seems to pick up on your concern, and he gently tilts your chin up, meeting your eyes.“Don’t worry about him. For now, just focus on me.”

He leans in again, capturing your lips in another fiery kiss. This time there’s no hesitation, just raw, unfiltered passion.His hands move to your thighs, gripping them firmly as he pulls you up closer. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, and you find yourself straddling him, the heat between you almost unbearable.

Your fingers slide into his hair, grabbing handfuls as you kiss him back with equal fervor.His hands now free, they explore your body greedily, tracing up your back and along your arms, as if trying to memorize every curve.The sensations he’s evoking in you are unlike anything you’ve felt before, and you find yourself yearning for more, arching against him shamelessly.

He groans into your mouth, the sound sending shivers down your spine. His hands move down to your hips, anchoring you firmly against him. You can feel the evidence of his desire for you, pressing into your core, making you want him even more.He kisses along your jawline, his lips leaving a trail of fire on your skin. He continue down your neck, lingering on your pulse point, eliciting a gasp from you.

“God, you’re driving me crazy,” he murmurs against your skin, his breath hot and uneven. He nips at your collarbone, sucking at the sensitive flesh in a way that makes your head swim.His hands pull at the hem of your shirt, untucking it from your jeans, his fingers gently caressing the bare skin of your back. The touch of his fingers is like a brand, marking you as his.

The need to feel closer, to feel his skin against yours, is overwhelming. You tug at his shirt, wanting to get it off, but Noni stops you, his hands finding your wrists and pinning them to the couch cushion beside your head.He pulls away from your neck just enough to look at you, eyes fiery and dark with a hunger that makes you shiver.

"Slow down," he breathes, his voice gravelly. "We've got plenty of time."

You try to catch your breath, your body thrumming with unsatisfied desire. Noni notices and smirks, enjoying your impatient state."Slow," he repeats, this time emphasizing the word with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips against yours.

A strangled gasp escapes you, the friction of his body grinding against yours sending a wave of pleasure through you.

The smirk on his face grows as he feels the effect he’s having on you."Feels good, doesn’t it?" he murmurs, his gaze never leaving yours.

Noni does it again, grinding against you slowly but firmly, eliciting another gasp from you. You can feel him against you, hard and ready, and it’s driving you wild.

“I want to touch you,” you say, your voice a bit whiny.

“You are touching me,” Noni points out, still grinding against you tantalizingly. “Be patient.”

You bite your lip, trying to regain some control over yourself. But it’s difficult when he’s looking at you like that, like you’re the most desirable woman he’s ever seen.

He lets go of your wrists, his hands moving down to the button of your jeans.“Is this what you want?” he asks, hooking a finger in the waistband.

You nod, unable to form words, your heart pounding with anticipation. His free hand slides up under your shirt, splaying across your stomach. You arch against him, wanting – needing – more touch.

Noni unbuttons your jeans, his fingers sliding slowly down the zipper. His hands linger at the edge, teasingly not going any further. Each touch is like a taunt, making you ache for more. You squirm under him, unable to bear the torturous slowness of his movements.

"Noni, please," you whisper, your voice taut with need. "Stop teasing me."He chuckles, clearly enjoying the effect he’s having on you.

“But I like teasing you,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your exposed skin. “Your body responds so beautifully when I play with you.”

Despite your protests, he continues his torturous pace, his hand finally sliding into your jeans, caressing the sensitive skin of your hip. You arch against him again, a small moan escaping your lips."God, you're so ready for me, aren't you?" he whispers, his voice rough with desire.

You can’t deny it. Every inch of your body is burning for his touch, yearning for more than the teases he’s currently giving you. You feel like you’re going to burst, like you need him in ways you’ve never needed anything before.“Noni, please,” you say again, your hands fisting the fabric of his shirt. “I can’t take this anymore. I need you.”

His answering smile is almost predatory. He can tell he’s got you exactly where he wants.“What do you need?” He asks, his fingers continuing their slow, lazy movements. The hand under your shirt slides up higher, just grazing the underside of your breast.

You can barely string a coherent thought together, let alone form a proper sentence.“You,” you manage to say, your voice breathless. “I need you. All of you.”

His smile widens at your words, and his fingers start to move a little faster now.“Is that right?” he asks, his voice a low growl now. “You want all of me, don’t you?

“Yes,” you breathe, your body responding to his every touch. “All of you. Please, Noni. Don’t make me wait any longer.”

Noni leans in to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Impatient,” he murmurs, nipping at your earlobe.

“Can you blame me?” you ask, your voice wavering as his fingers start to dip even lower. “You’ve been torturing me.”

He pulls back slightly, his eyes finding yours. The heat in them makes your heart skip a beat.“Patience is a virtue,” he reminds you, his tone almost chiding. “And I want you to beg for it.”

You almost let out a whine at his words. He wants you to beg? You’re already on the verge of begging, but you’re not quite there yet. You hold onto the last shred of pride you have left and shake your head.“I’m not going to beg,” you say, trying to sound defiant.

His eyes flash with desire as he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.“Oh you will,” he says, his lips right next to your ear. “I’m going to make sure of it.”

You were about to say something but you hear a door open, you quickly get off Noni and fix yourself trying to act normal.Noni is equally caught off guard, and he stands up, adjusting his shirt and trying to look casual.

Levi steps into the room, his gaze moving between you two. There's a moment of awkward silence as he takes in the scene before him.His eyes narrow slightly as they land on you, and then on Noni, who's standing a little too close to you for comfort.

"Everything okay in here?" Levi asks, his voice laced with suspicion.

"Yeah, everything's fine," you say, a little too quickly. You hope he doesn't notice how out of breath you are.

Levi's eyes flick back to Noni, his expression cool."What are you doing here?" he asks, his tone clearly hostile.

Noni responds with an easy smile, as if this kind of hostility is nothing new to him."Just wanted to stop by and say hi," he says smoothly. "Is that a crime?"Levi scowls at his response, his hackles clearly raised.

You notice your brother's look inviting you to go to your room and you nod, getting up. "Ok, it's getting late, I better go to my room" you murmur, giving Noni one last look.

Noni locks eyes with you, the intense heat still there, but you can also see a trace of disappointment at the premature end of your time together.You give him a small smile, silently communicating that you'd wanted things to end differently too.

As you walk by Levi, heading towards your room, you can feel his eyes boring into the side of your head, but you don't dare look back.You close the door quietly behind you, your heart still racing from Noni's proximity and your brother's unexpected appearance.

You flop down on your bed, not bothering to undress. Your mind is racing with thoughts of what might have happened if Levi hadn't interrupted you. You know you shouldn't, but you can't help but wonder...

[quarterlifekitty]

first of all i love womens hockey, strong ladies slamming up on the glass, amazing.

i went to a pwhl game and a man with his like teenage daughter were next to me and THAT MFER LOOKED EXACTLY LIKE JOHN PRICE hat and blue eyes and beard and everything it was nuts. anyways john price is a hockey girl dad of a scary 13 year old who kept staring at me the whole game.

just needed people to knoww

(fuck that mans gorgeous irl)

also i love your writing. Thank u for sharing ur brain w the internet.

That makes me think like. Imagine being John’s neighbor. You haven’t spoken more than pleasantries to him, introduced yourself to him and his daughter, made small talk at block parties.

And one cold day after school, his daughter is sitting on the front steps shivering, because she forgot her house key. You don’t have a spare, and John won’t be home for hours— so you tell her to stay inside your place until then. You call John and leave a message to let him know.

She’s a little wary of you, which is good. It’s not like you’re a total stranger, but you’re also not necessarily trustworthy yet. She just parks herself on the couch and watches whatever you’d had on tv, a little awkward as she sips the cup of tea you’d made her so she could warm up.

She ends up getting kinda attached. You joke with her that you watch the show that’s on because of the hot guys in it, and she smiles. She’s at that age, but of course she doesn’t really want to talk about it with John. You remember being 13, and she likes talking to you. John comes by once he’s home, thanks you profusely and apologizes for having to take up so much of your day. You tell him it was no trouble at all, and that she’s welcome any time.

She ends up taking you up on your offer. Usually after school, when her dad is still at work. You just leave the door open. She asks you questions about boys, about makeup— things she’s a little curious about but her mother isn’t around to answer. You get invited to all of her hockey games, with John insisting you sit next to him (when he can make it, that is).

You do holiday baking with her. She invites you to her birthday dinner. You’re welcomed over to John’s for every Christmas and other holiday they can manage to throw together a little gathering for. You’re so focused on her that you completely miss how John stares at you every single time you’re with his daughter.

Such a natural with her— and he’s had such a hard time connecting with her now that she’s becoming a teen. They’ve always had hockey, but it’s hard for him to accept that she’s not a baby anymore (even thought she’ll always be his baby). She storms over to your place every time they fight, and he’s eternally grateful she has somewhere to go for comfort when he doesn’t understand her.

She’s over at yours so much that he thinks it might be easier if you just moved in. That it would be a big age gap, but his daughter might like to have a little sibling. That if anything ever happened to him he’d want you to have every right to look after her. If that’s what you wanted, anyways.

And he loves his girl more than anything in the world, but it hasn’t been easy. Between raising her and his work, he doesn’t hardly have any time for dating. Whenever he’s tried— his daughter had found a problem with whoever he’d brought home, and that had signaled the end. It was hard enough to find anyone interested in dating a single parent.

So when you’d moved in next door, he couldn’t help himself. You’re pretty, single. He can see you through his window almost any time he wants. You don’t close your curtains nearly as much as you should, either. He’s just a man, y’know?

So, yeah, he’s made himself cum thinking of you more times than he can count. And it only gets worse once he has those fleeting thoughts about you being a mother for his girl. Maybe a few more kids if he can manage to get a ring on your finger. Insane thought to have when he’s never even asked you out on a date.

[letmereedusyou]

i’m not yours - part 8

summary: Daryl and you are (were?) friends. He dated Leah. You told him you loved him and things fell apart. Will it ever go back to normal?

words: 2.3k

warnings: mentions of abuse, injuries

A/N: Good day, everyone! I've been literally working on this for a couple of days, editing and adding shit all the time. My partner has helped me with it, he's such a gem <3 I hope you enjoy it!

I would also like to thank everyone who has followed me and liked my shit, it is much appreciated! With your help, I somehow got to 68 followers and over 600 likes which is incredible! Thank you, muffins! <3

Read the previous part here!

A few days later

Ribs hurting, body throbbing. Every single muscle screams for help with each move you make. Getting up from bed was a challenge enough, but taking a shower was even worse. You could barely move your limbs around, not to mention bending down or even sitting. The mirror image you see in the morning is somewhat depressing. Standing in front of it, in your black underwear, you assessed the damage with a pained gaze. The cuts and bruises were almost too much to look at. Their shades of purples, pinks, and reds were sticking out like a sore thumb in the morning light sifting through the window. They weren't only covering your body, but also stretching from ear to cheek on one side, with a big fat lip as a cherry on top. You feel a sharp pain in your side when you breathe in —a telltale sign of a few broken ribs.

That evening walk last night wasn't a good idea after all, you thought to yourself.

Moving at a snail's pace, you put on trousers and a grey hoodie, wincing in pain every now and then. Drawing a hood up, you cover most of your face. You weren’t trying to get any attention drawn to you, oh no. Leaving the house, you head towards the mess hall to eat your breakfast. Your hands were in your pockets. All the way down the street, you looked at your slow feet moving on the ground. You could hear people whispering about you. It was clear that somehow they already knew about your injuries. Maybe someone caught a glimpse when you were coming home last night, stumbling through the street. Or maybe you just weren't as good at hiding it as you thought you were.

Out of the blue, you feel a strong hand on your shoulder. You turn around with your fists up, almost hitting the person in the face before you realise that it was Gabriel - the community priest. You swallow hard, and you quickly put your fists down, packing them back into your pockets.

"Y/N, what happened?" He asks, a worried look on his face as he steps a bit closer to look at your face. As a respectful person that he is, he doesn’t touch you or move too close. He just points at your face, his eyes darting to the bruising and cut lip.

"Nothing," you mumble.

"That nothing sure looks like something," he retorted, examining you.

"I am fine, father," you say, stepping away from him and clearing your throat. "But may I suggest praying for all the wicked tonight."

"If we confess our sins, He is faithful, and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness," Gabriel quotes a Bible to you and smiles a little.

"It's not my sins we have to worry about, father."

You say, turning around and leaving him standing there, visibly confused. You walk all the way down the street, turning onto a gravel path that winds a little to the left, and you get to the mess hall. By mess hall, you meant the biggest building in Alexandria where some tables and chairs were put down, alongside a modest buffet so people could get their food before work. There usually wasn't a lot to choose from, but no one complained - food was a blessing these days, no matter how bad or good it tasted.

Getting a clean, but worn-out white plate, you put some scrambled eggs on it, a rare sight in the zombie world. You guess someone found some powdered eggs somewhere during the supply run. You don't complain and take some onto your plate, heading to sit at one of the empty tables.

Your jaw hurts as you slowly eat your modest, bland breakfast. The only thing you could eat, really. Soft enough so there's not much chewing involved. You dart your eyes up carefully to look around, and you spot Daryl’s crossbow, poking above the bustling crowd. He barely glances at you across the dining hall, and you know he probably is here to grab his food pack quickly before heading out on a supply run. It was busy anyway, so you weren't surprised he would not see you. You were just another face in the crowd. You didn’t expect him to pay much attention to you. Especially after your past arguments. And his own relationship explosion a few days ago. You resort to going back to your own plate.

All the hope of people not noticing you or your injuries dwindles when you overhear some hushed voices from the table next to the open buffet counter.

"You see her face?"

"Yeah, looks awful."

"Wonder who fucked that up."

"I’d hate to see the other guy."

You try not to react to the whispers and cover up more with your hoodie. You keep on eating, blocking out the noise as much as you can. You usually didn't care about people talking about you. You learned that it didn't matter. But somehow, having been beaten up and having clearly visible injuries made you uncomfortable and anxious when people stared and talked about it.

Lost in your thoughts, you get brought back to reality with a can of soda clash and hiss against the floor from next to the buffet counter. Startled by the noise, your eyes shoot up to look in the direction.

Your eyes meet Daryl's in the crowd. He is looking at you; his eyebrows fly up before he scowls. Horror and concern quickly flash across his face. You look back down to the plate, hoping he doesn’t react, pulling your hood instinctively to hide more. You can hear Daryl's loud grumble even from the place you were sitting, and as you peep around your hood, he's already moving quickly, slipping past everyone. You start to dissociate, and that built-up anxiety starts to blister and pop inside you.

Please don’t...

Please, don’t make a scene...

Maybe he isn’t coming over.

You are broken out of your mind by his hand slamming on the table next to your tray. Daryl’s eyes flashed across your face. Anger, no… rage, completely enveloped his eyes.

“Who did this to you?!” His growl resounded through the mess hall, and you almost flinched at how aggressive that sounded.

„Daryl, please…”

„Do not ‚Daryl, please’ me!” You were sure that if eyes could kill, his would leave you on the floor with two X's instead of eyes.

„I don’t know. It was dark. I didn’t see,” you try to explain. „Please, stop making a scene. I really don’t need any more eyes on me.”

Daryl looks around cautiously. A lot of people were paying attention to you both now, and it made you uncomfortable. He saw that. He knew that. He pursed his lips a little and then gave out a loud exasperated sigh. Before you know it, you’re dragged by your arm towards the doors. His grip was strong and relentless—it almost made you wince in pain. Your head swung down to cover your embarrassment and redness in your cheeks.

Once you are outside and out of the view of all the people, Daryl pulls on your hood, taking it off fully. He stands there, looking at your bruise and your cut lip, as if he were assessing the damage, taking in the sight before him. He steps closer, taking your chin into his fingers, and tilts your head to the side.

„Who the fuck did you piss off lately?” He asks, his gaze falling onto your eyes. When he doesn’t get a response, he scoffs and lets go of your chin. „I need to know who did this.”

„I told you already. I don’t-,” you say, rolling your eyes.

„How bad is it?”

The question falls from his mouth before you even get to finish the sentence. You think about it for a minute, trying to figure out if you should tell him about your broken bones or if you should just leave it alone. Why would you tell him? What’s that going to do? It will just piss him off even more.

„It’s just my face,” you say, and you hear an immediate dry laugh rolling out of his lips.

„Liar,” he says.

You stare at each other for a minute or two. Your throat goes dry, and you bite your lip, making yourself curse and wince in pain. His icy blue eyes were way too much to handle for you. It felt like he could just blow up at any second if you kept being silent, so you muster up some courage. Taking a short breath, you get ready to speak, but Daryl stops you by putting his hand up in front of you.

„Your face just told me everything I needed to know,” he grumbles.

„What?” your voice sounds squeaky, and your eyes widen in surprise.

„You can’t breathe deeply. Your face grimaced when you tried to. You have broken ribs,” he says confidently, and you're stunned at how he reads you like a book without even trying hard. „You shouldn’t even be on your feet if this happened just last night.”

„How did you—?” you ask, but you already know the answer. Of course he’d know. He probably suffered it himself at the hand of his father. Maybe even worse than this.

„It looks fresh; the cut on your lip is not healed yet and still red, which means that it can’t be more than a day or two old.”

„You a doctor or summin’?” You mumble, and you pull your hood up again. You look at him, fiddling with the sleeve of your hoodie. His expression is almost unreadable, but you can see concern and worry on his face.

He rubs his temple before sighing.

„Let’s get you home.”

He takes your arm in his hand, more gently than when he pulled you up from the table but still hard enough that it made you silently wince at his touch. Though painful, his touch soothed you. Somehow, his concern made you feel like there was still a bit of compassion left in his heart for you. As he guided you towards your house, you didn’t protest. Truth be told, you are tired; you want to lie down or at least find a comfortable position to be in.

All the way down the street, Daryl stayed quiet. Didn’t ask questions, just walked beside you, his hand on your arm loosened a bit, so it didn’t hurt you. Once your house comes into view, your eyes dart around to see if any people are watching. They were. From everywhere. Of course… This wouldn’t go unnoticed—you and Daryl suddenly beside each other after months with no real contact. Plus, the hood on your head probably didn’t help.

Daryl walks into your house, drags you inside, and slams the doors behind him. You jump a little at the sound, but you keep your eyes glued to the ground.

„Look at me,” he says, his commanding tone making you bring your eyes up almost immediately.

He steps closer to you and once again pulls your hood off of your head with one swift motion. Daryl’s eyes glance all over your face, as if trying to read through the wounds about the people who did this to you. He takes a deep breath and huffs quietly before stepping away and motioning to the living room and the couch. You take a few steps and then lower yourself on the couch carefully, trying not to get any pain.

„Here,” Daryl says and puts one hand on your shoulder and the other wraps around your waist carefully to help you move down the couch into a half-seated, almost laid-down position on one of your sides. Your legs get put on the coffee table. „The best position to make sure you’re not hurting.”

„Thanks,” you mumble quietly.

„What do you need?” he asks. „Water? Pillows? Books?”

„All of the above.”

He huffs a half laugh and stands up, disappearing from view. You wondered why he’s helping you. He’s been absent from your life for months, and now he’s back, and at first glance, you’d say nothing had happened between you two. But you knew it wasn’t the truth. You argued. Badly. You couldn’t just go back to normal that easily, could you? Your mind also itched to ask about the fight he had with Leah. You wanted to ask if it was about you or if you just dreamt the entire thing, but you bit your tongue.

Daryl shows up with pillows from your bed, a book from the bedside table, and then goes to the kitchen to get some water. He brings you a glass and puts it on the armrest of the sofa.

„You should sleep in an upright position; it will be more comfortable,” he says, propping you with pillows on each side.

„You mean I sleep here?”

„Yeah,” he nods. „When my pops used to beat me up, breaking some ribs, I spent a lot of time in a position in which you are right now. It helped to ease the pain a bit.”

„Right,” you say and nod affirmatively. "How long?"

"As long as it takes for your ribs to feel better."

He stands there for a bit in complete silence, scanning your body like he had x-rays in his vision and could see the broken bones through your clothes. When he looks into your eyes, you could've sworn you saw some emotions that reminded you of the old times.

Care.

He quickly averts his gaze after less than a second and he nods once again, heading towards the front doors. He reaches for the door handle, but before he leaves, he speaks again.

„I am going to find out who did this. I promise they will get what they deserve.”

[simpforchuchu]

My Enemy’s Sister | Mitsuya Takashi x Haitani!reader

a/n: Hello, it’s been a long time since I wrote for Tokyo Revengers. I’m watching season 2 again and wanted to write something for my dear Mitsuys… Anyway, I hope you like it 🌸💕

Sorry for the grammer or spelling mistakes.English is not my native language.

Thank you and love you 🥰

Warnings: fights, violence

Even though it was summer, it was still cool because it was evening. Although the young girl didn't like walking through these streets in the evening, she couldn't say no to her friends and was now returning home. As she was passing through the dark alley, she heard voices that didn't come from far away and continued walking nervously.

When she approached the end of the street, she knew she shouldn't get involved when she saw a large group of gang members threatening a young boy her age on one of the side streets.

Her brothers warned her every day to be careful, but the fact that so many people were attacking a single person angered her. At first, she thought of calling the police without saying anything, but she gave up on that idea thinking that they wouldn't come in time.

She was scared, she had to leave now. But when she looked back there and caught the eye of the boy with his lilac hair shining under the streetlight for a moment, she realized that she couldn't leave.

The fight started soon after. The lilac-haired boy was quite strong. But when she saw that the others had iron pipes in their hands, the young girl's purple eyes widened in fear.

She had to do something, she was scared, but she overcame her fear by thinking about her brothers. She was a Haitian, wasn't she? Her older brothers had always taught her to be strong.

Then something terrible happened. One of the iron pipe hit the lilac-haired boy hard on the head and he fell to his knees. Y/n shouted in fear.

“Don’t! What are you doing? Let him go!”

The gang members weren’t the only ones surprised, the lilac-haired boy - Mitsuya - was also looking at the young girl in shock. She wouldn’t do it, would she? She couldn’t be that stupid?

The gang leader looked at the young girl while waving his pipe in his hand. He laughed and shouted with a disgusting look

“This is none of your business, shortie! If you don’t want us to break your bones, get out of here!”

Y/n was scared because of the person who was yelling at her. But she was determined not to back down. With shaking hands, she picked up a beer bottle on the ground and broke it. She looked at the leader, carelessly waving the remaining piece of glass in her hand.

“I told you to let him go.”

“Are you crazy? Get out of here quickly!”

Mitsuya had also screamed in fear, but y/n had no intention of backing down.

The gang members were really angry this time, when a few of them tried to walk towards the young girl who was yelling at their leader, Mitsuya slowly got up. His head hurt like hell, but he was also afraid that a young girl would get hurt because of him. Drawing strength from her courage, he punched one of the people walking towards the young girl and started fighting again.

Y/n watched the lilac-haired boy with admiration. His injuries looked serious, but he was still able to fight. The piece of glass in her hand had made her hand bleed, but she was so focused that she hadn't even noticed it.

Unfortunately, one of the gang members had reached her before too long. Mitsuya noticed this, but he couldn't run there immediately. The young girl wanted to show him the piece of glass in her hand and scare him, but the boy pushed her hard and the young girl fell to the ground.

While the piece of glass cut her hand deeply, y/n only looked at the person coming towards her. She thought it was over here. She was afraid of not being able to see her brothers again.

“You are gonna die here, bitch!"

Y/n closed her eyes tightly, expecting the metal pipe to hit her. But it didn't happen. When the young girl suddenly opened her eyes, Mitsuya was in front of her, holding the pipe tightly.

Mitsuya knocked the tall boy in front of her to the ground with a hard kick and turned to the young girl and smiled.

"If you can get up, wait for me under the wall there, I'll finish this shit."

The young girl looked at the wall in surprise and then at the lilac-haired boy. She nodded slowly and stood up and walked towards the wall.

The fight continued for a while, Mitsuya was the winner even though he was quite tired and looked at the young girl with a smile.

"She really gave me strength," he thought to himself and smiled. Then he slowly walked over to her.

“I’m Mitsuya Takashi, I guess I can say you saved me, thank you-?”

The young girl smiled when she realized what he was asking.

"Y/n, you can call me y/n.You saved my life, I was stupid even though I was weak. I'm sorry."

Mitsuya looked at the young girl with his usual warm smile and patted her head.

“Sometimes it’s not strength that’s needed, y/n, if it wasn’t for you, I might have died. Thank you so much.”

The young girl looked at the boy in front of her for a while with her cheeks turning red, then smiled and bowed her head.

When Mitsuya noticed the blood slowly dripping onto the ground, he took off the kerchief he tied around his wrist and reached for the young girl’s hand. While Y/n looked at him in surprise, he gently wrapped the young girl’s hand and smiled without looking at the eyes that were watching him carefully the whole time

“I’m sorry you got hurt because of me, y/n-chan”

Y/n shook her head, her eyes widened when she heard a familiar voice just as she was about to tell him it wasn’t important.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

When Mitsuya turned his head, he wasn’t expecting to see the infamous Haitani brothers. There had been enough fights tonight, his body couldn’t handle another one. But there was something more important he needed to think about right now. Why were the Haitani brothers here?

“Mitsuya… What is Toman’s rat doing with our little sister?!”

When Rindou shouted, Y/n was startled, this was the first time she had seen her older brothers so angry. Ran tried to understand what was happening, his eyes widened when she saw Y/n's bloody hand.

"Y/n! Who did this?" Then he turned to Mitsuya. "You? Did you try to harm our little sister, you bastard?!"

Y/n realized that her older brothers knew Mitsuya. She didn't know how they met, but there was definitely a misunderstanding. Mitsuya took a deep breath and opened his mouth to explain, but Y/n acted before him.

"Onii-chan! Mitsuya-san saved me. He wasn't the one who hurt me, please calm down."

Ran came to his senses with the young girl's frightened voice. They had always kept Y/n away from this dangerous life they were living. That's why their younger sister didn't know how dangerous they were. She didn't know that they knew Mitsuya, and she definitely didn't know about Toman. So he had to end this topic right there.

While he was thinking silently, Mitsuya was silently waiting for him to say something. Y/n actually looked a lot like her older brothers. He should have realized that even at first sight, but it was too late. He also realized that the young girl was very different from her older brothers, she seemed like a good person.

Ran sighed loudly after a while and smiled. Mitsuya knew that this smile was definitely not sincere

“Rindou, you go ahead with Y/n. I’ll come back after thanking Mitsuya.”

Rindou nodded silently and gently held his little sister’s arm. Y/n, despite how worried she was about her older brother and Mitsuya fighting, didn’t say anything and followed her younger brother silently.

When Ran and Mitsuya were alone, Mitsuya said nervously

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I wasn’t the one who hurt her. She was just passing by and-“

“I know you didn’t do it, I’ll find the ones who did, but that’s not the point now. I’ll let you go this time Mitsuya, but if I see you around her again… I’ll kill you.”

[fxckedupdaydreams]

Aspen the Loser Yan! Loser x Reader Tw; Stalking, Obsession, Yandere Themes, Creepy behavior, unconsented photographs, slight nsfw (he's obsessing over pics), Pathetic Yandere themes, You're into it and make it easy for him to obsess over you lol Note; Gotta start my blog off with a pathetic yandere that coincidentally has a willing reader <3

Yan! Loser that's extremely shy, an introvert who's majoring in art and minoring in photography, carrying a camera around 24/7 and taking pictures of everything he finds visually appealing.

Art block having reached him, his sketchbook pages remained bare and untouched, procreate not having been opened in weeks on his device.

Yan! Loser that only met you because you both took a portrait photography class together and happened to sit beside each other, partners for the quarter.

One look at you and his face was visibly turning two shades pinker as you smiled at him.

Yan! Loser that almost collapses when you tell him to take a picture of you on your first day, claiming that you'd love to see the improvement on your last day of the course.

His hands are steady as he snaps a couple pictures, shyly showing you once he finds one that's to his standards.

Yan! Loser that follows you to your next class that same day, hood up as he watches you interact with others, trying to shove past students to keep up with you.

Did you need to walk so fast?

Yan! Loser that can only think about you after meeting you, finally having the motivation to draw after just talking to you once.

His sketchbook is finally put to use, he doodles and draws and creates artwork, you being the center of it all as he moves on from projects.

Yan! Loser that writes down everything you like, your whole schedule, your friends names, your major and classes you could potentially take together.

Yan! Loser that continuously follows you around everywhere, each class you're in, he's following a few steps behind to make sure you walk in safely.

Yan! Loser that follows you home after a few days, camera in hand and hood over his head, snapping away from outside your window.

Yan! Loser that goes through every single picture when he finally goes home after you've slept, practically drooling over himself at each angle he's got of you.

Yan! Loser that doesn't get much sleep, slowly sitting down beside you the next day with exhaustion clear on his features.

He's overjoyed when you offer some of your caffeinated drink to him, patting his back and commenting on the amount of homework you have too.

Yan! Loser that feels much more energized knowing that you just gave him an indirect kiss.

He watches what trashbin you dump your drink into and is quick to go fish it out once you've left the room, clinging to the plastic/glass and shoving it into his bag.

Willing Reader that just knows that Aspen is stalking them, quick to notice when he's behind them.

He's not the best stalker, constantly gasping when you're changing, the click of the camera each time he shoots a picture of you, the bright red face he has each time you even look at him.

The way he carries around the drink you shared with him weeks earlier.

You take pity on that pathetic stalker of yours, making it easy for him to follow you around, asking him to take random pictures of you in class.

Touching him constantly, whether you cling to his side in the morning because "its just too cold!!" or patting his head when he does a good job.

He's good at pretending he's done nothing wrong!

As long as you don't ask to see his camera or sketchbook.

[redsrooftopprincess]

Hey so how do you think raphael would deal with a s/o who goes all out for holidays. And also they tend to throw flirty seasonal comments at him. Trying to fluster him every single time. Valentine: “I think cupid might of struck me hard years ago when I laid mine eyes on you”. Halloween they’re a vampire “the only one I want to turn into a vampire is you ;)” and xmas they’re like “All I want for xmas is you”? Or mistletoe is on the ceiling above them suddenly and s/o is like “How’d that get there?” Nearly convincingly. 😂?

Hi there!!! I'm really hoping this turned out okay. 😅

Valentine

RaphaelxFem!reader

Warnings: none, pure fluff

He arrives to an empty apartment. It's only 7, so you're probably still on your way home from work. He heads to the kitchen and grabs a beer from the fridge, before moving toward the couch to waste time with video games while he waits for you.

As he crosses to the living room, he hears keys in the lock and moves casually out of sight of the door. It explodes open with almost pressurized force, pushed by the enormous collection of plastic shopping bags barely contained by the arms in your fluffy red sweater. You kick the door closed behind you and he's taking the bags from you almost instantly.

"Okay!" you grin, striking a pose as he sets the mountain of bags onto the kitchen table, "I'm here! Now what were your other two wishes?" He rolls his eyes and sighs, but he can't help the quirk of a smile. You're adorable. And he has to admit, you look damn good in his color.

You have a... thing for holidays. You honestly love any excuse to dress up and be silly. It doesn't hurt that it usually earns you a laugh from a certain red-banded bara who is so very pretty when he laughed. You only met a few months ago, but so far, over Samhain, Thanksgiving, and Solstice, he's thankfully gotten used to you going a *little* over the top.

Somehow (surely not all the decorations at your desk and themed outfits over the last year), your co-workers have also figured out how much you love holidays, and when they approached you about taking charge of their "Valentine's Day Luncheon," you were more than happy to oblige.

Now you survey the collection of red and white and pink in plastic before you, your mind whirring with potential. You'd asked Raph to come over on his night off because you had an excuse you needed help, and he was pretty hot handy with a glue gun.

After giving him a run down of everything in the bags, along with your "vision" as he liked to call it (complete with sarcastic hand gesture), you each grab an armful of craft supplies, and move into the living room to get to work. He clears off the coffee table while you order dinner, and soon the two of you are elbow deep in pink glitter and construction paper.

Everything starts out well enough. The drinks and creativity flow and your favorite romantic comedy plays unobtrusively in the background as you eat and laugh between cutting and pasting. You feel good. Valentine's Day may be tomorrow, but tomorrow is in about three hours and you're going to get to spend your first Valentine's Day (at least part of it anyway) with a guy you actually may be falling for and-

Your stream of consciousness comes to a screeching halt, the needle in your hand stilling halfway through the felt plush heart you had been sewing. You look over at him, telling some story about Mikey and Don when they were kids, and you definitely feel... something. But love, that kind of love, is big. Important. Especially for the Hamatos. Seeming so far out of reach for them they may as well be alone on the planet. This isn't the kind of thing you should even joke about until you're absolutely sure.

But it's Valentine's Day.

And wine is happening.

And as the night goes on, your heart and your tongue form an alliance against your brain.

Over the course of the evening you develop a habit of calling him anything *but* his name, and the way words like "Hot Stuff" "Romeo," and "Heartbreaker," roll off your tongue affects him in ways that are not allowed. He's fine. A deep breath and he's back to being cool. But the spark of trouble in your eyes when you call him, "Bruiser," leaves him needing a minute.

You see it. You can't help it. He's hot, and you're single, and it's Valentine's Day, and it seems like he can't get enough of you, and you are about half a bottle in. You start shooting the occasional cheesy pick up line his way, just to see what'll happen. And you are not disappointed.

Mike had subjected him to months worth of shitty pick up lines when he discovered them as kids, but you're so damn cute that they just come out silly and endearing.

"Hey," you call over to him across the living room, "do you like raisins?"

He looks confused, "I guess?"

"How 'bout a date?" You grin.

He rolls his eyes, but the adorable smile and slight color shift in his scales as he looks away is just addicting. With that kind of reaction, the wine in your bloodstream reasons, how the hell are you supposed to stop?

So, between the beer, and the constant back and forth between him thinking you're adorable, and him trying really really hard not to think about what those pet names coming out of that pretty mouth are doing to him physically, halfway through the night he was almost regretting agreeing to help you.

But then, it does stop.

He doesn't know when, through the haze of mild inebriation, and physical and emotional turmoil it's difficult for him to track, but at some point he notices the stupid pick up lines become less frequent, and the pet names become more and more tame until they almost stop completely.

He looks over at you, jaw tight, glaring at the felt plush heart in your hands. You had to make 120, this was your second one, Raph was already sixteen in, and the tangled mess of twisted pink thread was beyond unraveling.

You sigh, frustrated, "Raph, can you toss me the scissors?"

Sewing isn't exactly your forte. It's not that you don't get the mechanics of it: needle + thread + fabric = thing. As long as you can move in a straight line and you don't stab the shit out of yourself it should be easy right? But your hands are uncoordinated and sewing machines can smell fear. You've tried. You just can't sew. Why you decided that *this* was what is needed for the party tomorrow, you will never understand. You thought it'd be easy. It was supposed to be easy.

He stares at you for a few moments, brow knitted in thought as he takes in what's happening. "Having trouble, princess?" He asks. He smirks, but not unkindly.

"Huh? Oh yeah, I guess..." You respond, taking the scissors from him and attempting to carefully cut through the tangled mass to remove it... which results in you cutting a quarter inch whole through both layers of felt. Your jaw tightens, and you sigh heavily. "I can't sew," you admit, almost shamefully.

He makes a face, "What do you mean you 'can't sew?'"

You sigh, tossing the ruined decoration into the plastic bag the two of you have been using for trash, "I mean I can't sew."

"Anyone can sew," He states, as if it's an objective fact.

You attempt not to snort derisively. You fail.

"You really don't think you can sew?"

You look pointedly at the ruined heart, before looking back at him and wordlessly raising an eyebrow.

Disengaging, you snatch another couple of felt pieces and some pink thread off the coffee table and settle back into your spot in the papasan. He watches as you try and fail to thread the needle. Three times.

You're embarrassed. And frustrated. This is supposed to be your favorite holiday and you're spending it fighting with a stupid needle and looking like an idiot in front of the guy you... something-like-love-...-maybe, and you're so stuck in your own head, you don't notice that he's moved until he's kneeling in front of you and stilling your hands.

He holds up a small metal disk. It looks slightly like a custom made swiss army knife, that has Donnie written all over it. He pushes a lever and a wire... loop? I guess? Pops out of it. You look at him quizzically.

"May I?" He asks, holding his hands out. He takes the needle and thread upon your acceptance. He flicks a small lever and a small pair of scissor pops out of the other side, which he uses to snip off the frayed two inches of embroidery thread. He dexterously replaces the scissors, and, holding the needle, you watch him push the wire through the hole, feed the thread through, and then pull it back out, the needle now neatly threaded.

You blink up at him. He smiles, holding up the disk, "Needle threader," he tosses it in your lap, "your new best friend."

You give him a stunned half smile and start working on your second heart for the second time.

Your not sure how, but somewhere between the first and the fifth stitch, your thread twists and knots itself, resulting in a smaller version of your previous tangle. He cringes.

"Y'know... I could teach you," he ventures hesitantly, "if you want, I mean."

You pick up the disc in your lap and examine it. A specialized tool that Red just happened to have on him, despite him having no idea what fresh insanity you had planned for tonight. Needles, thread bobbins, and several other things you don't recognize, all easily accessible and deployable. The kind of tool you don't have unless you do something very specific. Your frustrated gaze becomes more thoughtful.

"Do you make all your clothes?" You ask, softly, the ghost of a smile hiding in the corner of your mouth as you look back up at him.

The shift in tone catches him off-guard, and when your gaze finds his, it feels like all the breath has left his body. "Well, yeah..." He says, almost transfixed, before clearing his throat and recovering with a smirk, "you really think they make clothes in our size?"

"No," you say, your smile slightly resurrected, "no, I suppose they don't." You look down at the felt in your hands, and it dies again, "I'm afraid you may have your work cut out for you. A lot of people have failed to teach me to sew. I'm pretty sure I'm a lost cause."

"Bullshit," he says, pushing the coffee table back far enough that he can sit in front of you.

After twenty minutes of neat and simple failure, you drop the heart in your lap and cover your face with your hands. "This is hopeless. I can't make the needle do," you gesture vaguely, "whatever it is that you're doing to make this work. We need to pivot," you start looking around at what craft supplies are left, your mind trying to find something you could make as a replacement.

"No."

"What?" Your eyes return to his.

"Excuse me," he clears his throat, "Hell no."

You look confused.

"I said I was gonna teach you to sew, and that's exactly what I'm gonna do if it takes all damn night."

"Raph, it's 11:30, we are out of time for that. We need something easier."

"Please, I can knock these out by myself in an hour, this is more important." He gently places a hand on your knee, and you try to ignore the way it covers nearly half your thigh, "If you want to learn, I want to teach you," he says softly. "But only if you want." He adds, backing off slightly, afraid he might be pushing too hard.

"Look," he continues, "after D, you're probably one of the smartest people I know. So, while it's really cute watching you struggle this hard at something for once," he smirks when you glare at him, "it seems like this really bothers you, and if I can, I want to help."

Okay, this is not helping your little something-like-love situation *at all*.

"Though, I'll admit, there might be a tiny part of me that would, selfishly, really like to show off teach you something that I'm really good at I really enjoy." He gives you what he hopes is his most convincing smile. He doesn't often get to flex outside of the weight room.

You're hesitant. You really *really* don't want to look like any more of an idiot in front of Raphael, and you have zero confidence that this will do anything more than frustrate the both of you, but you can see the poorly concealed hopeful excitement in his eyes, and, Fuck, how is he so damn cute?

"Okay, fine," you relent with a sigh.

"Cool," he says, standing and trying not to grin. He grabs a stack of felt hearts and some thread from the table. "Would you be cool with me sitting behind you? It'll easier to see what you're doing from there."

It's a move he almost immediately regrets when you nod and he settles himself behind you on the papasan. You're close, very close, and he's been drinking. He tries desperately to focus as you command the attention of all his senses. Your warmth radiates through his plastron, and the shape of the chair traps your scent around him. He wills his hands to stay right where they are, as you settle against him.

It's... difficult. He tries talking you through everything, but somehow it isn't translating to your stupid hands. He can feel it, your body almost as curved and rigid as his own carapace with tension. He puts a hand on your arm. "You're pulling too tight. Here," he rumbles into your ear, his rough hands gentle as they move down your arms to your own, "like this." You hope he doesn't notice the gooseflesh that has scattered over your skin.

Over the next half-hour, he guides you through the motions, your small hands moving within his own, and it isn't long before the two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm. It starts to feel less like your fighting with the damn thing and more like you're actually capable of handling this, your smile even claws it's way out of it's grave a little.

About fifteen minutes in you start to notice something. A sound or a feeling, you can't quite figure out which, seeming to envelope you. It takes a good few minutes before you realize... It's him.

Donatello told you about this. You heard it once in the lab when Don had been tinkering, contentedly, with a new graphics card for a good while. He seemed embarrassed when you asked, but he explained, very clinically, what it was and why it was happenings.

He called it a "churr," and explained that it's something involuntary that happens when they're content, or happy, or excited, or pissed. Similar to a growl or a purr. (The squeal you had to contain when you found out they purr luckily only came out as a quiet squeak. Don gave you a look.)

And now it's surrounding you. Vibrating against your spine and down your arms. He seems to not even realize it's happening. You suppress a smile. You consider saying something, but your worried he'll get embarrassed and stop. He's pretty sensitive about the non-human parts of his life, so you instead choose to just shut up and enjoy the fact that he's evidently enjoying his time with you.

And he is. It's the first time the thought of Valentine's Day doesn't entirely leave a bitter taste in his mouth. Normally, he wouldn't even leave the lair today, but you'd asked him to come over and help with decorations, and he stupidly agreed. It was you. Of course he was going to say yes. And, honestly, it isn't as painful as he thought it was going to be. You're hot, and fun, and if his terminally single ass is going to do anything other than sulk on Valentine's Day. This ain't half bad.

Once you seem to have the hang of things, you both start working as individuals, though neither of you move far from your positions. That's when he notices it, too, in a lull in conversation, a deep rumble from within his chest. He shifts in the chair, uncomfortably, and clears his throat in hopes that it'll stop, or at least interrupt the involuntary process. But, no. He's not that lucky. Maybe if he just pretends it isn't happening. You don't seem to have noticed yet.

He continues on as if nothing is going on, and eventually settles back into a comfortable rhythm. The mild embarrassment remains, but overall if you don't mention it, maybe it doesn't bother you? You've never really flinched at his weird turtle shit, and maybe this is no different. By 3:30, all 120 hearts have been completed, and his churring has faded almost into white noise.

You steel yourself and sigh internally. You don't want to. You really don't want to. But you have to be at work in five hours, so you stand, yawning. "Okay," you grin, stretching, "thanks for the help, now get the fuck out."

He gets up and tosses the last heart onto the pile, grinning, "Well, shit, how's that for gratitude?" Tonight was a good night.

After a few minutes of both of you finding any reason to stall, you run out of them, and he makes his way out to the fire escape. Speaking, crouched, through the window, he's at eye level, and you kiss his cheek, softly, "Thank you," you say sincerely.

He tries to play it cool, but the hunter green stripes down the lines of his throat darken just a little, and his smirk shifts into something just a bit more bashful.

Gods damn it, this boyish fucking asshole.

"Hey," you say before he can run off, "so, um, it's Valentine's Day, and I'll be getting out of work after sundown tonight, so..." Play it cool, damn it. "You know, there's probably going to be a lot of creeps out, and-"

"I can walk you home," he interrupts a little too eagerly, his stripes darkening further, "uh, if you want, I mean. I'm not saying you couldn't handle some creeps on your own, I just, uh..." He laughs, nervously as he trails off, embarrassed.

You try not to grin, "I'd appreciate that," you say, blushing, and you swear he lights up like Christmas morning.

He gets back home at about sunrise, and doesn't sleep all day. At about 5:30 in the evening his phone buzzes, and he can't help the smile that blooms across his face when he sees your name. When he opens the message the smile fades and is replaced by something very different.

It's a photo of you, probably taken by one of your coworkers, posed coquettishly in front of a Valentine's Day themed step and repeat banner, in a vintage red dress that hugs your curves deliciously. Which you fully didn't pick out with a certain guy in mind, why would you think that?

If you'd been present, you would know that the dress has done it's job, and after a few minutes staring dumbly at the now saved photo on his phone, he starts prepping for a night of protecting the good people of New York City.

Okay, maybe just one, in particular.

.....

Tag list

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll @silverwatergalaxy @gornackeaterofworlds @daedric-sorceress @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo @milykins

[atlasofsalt]

consider: Grian having flashbacks to killing Scar in Last Life while having their alliance in wild life, and the guilt being the reason he waits until scar dies to kill Jimmy

brain rot brain rot not exactly this but here yes yes

Bile rises up his throat as he locked eyes with Jimmy. All he could think of was his promise to Scar, the many nights they shared. Sat together with knees brushing, and hushed giggles while looking at the stars.

Third life was originally a joke to him, something fun to pass the time. His ending fight with Scar was nothing more than dramatics

Then Last life happened and his heart beated just a little faster when their eyes met. The rush of adrenaline that flowed through his vines when their matching red eyes latched onto each other.

Double life is where it got tricky. Those feelings from the past two seasons just grew stronger and soon his fingers twitched to lock with Scars. Their shoulders lean against one another as they travel down the deep dark.

Limited life caused him to find himself savoring every single second he had with the vex hybrid before his team pulled him away. His body shivering with a chill with the lack of heat from his best friends’ breath.

Secret life was when he struggled with the bursting magic from his cursed blood. So desperate to scream those words that echoed in his head at the clueless man before him. To warn him of the dangers- to cheat for his survival. His lungs burned and his throat tight as he clutched onto the sunflowers.

Wild life. Wild life is where he lost it- he couldn’t handle it anymore. The burst of smothering affection escaped his body as he hugged him. His soulmate. His bestest friend. His greatest ally. “Promise me you’ll give Jim-Jim a chance okay? He’s had a rough few seasons.” Scars only request to the Watcher seemed simple enough. Grian didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth.

Now here he stood- Scar dead while Jimmy hugged onto Lizzie’s breathless body. The voices roared in his head, cold claws dug into his skin. For once he felt it. He felt guilt. He felt remorse, shame, fear, grief, love. He felt it all as he looked onto Jimmy's eyes.

“It was always going to be like this Jim.” His voice was hollow. It was cold. He watched as explosives surrounded the avian in front of him and ignited.

He stalked away from the Bambunker with his head low. As he walked along he glanced up briefly, there planted before him was a single, wilted sunflower. And he found he felt nothing.

[chainslobber]

One of my favorite furry stories was this one time I happened upon a picture of chili on the front page of Furaffinity. It's not uncommon for people to post pictures; fursuits, or figures, or plushies. I don't know what compelled me, but I clicked on it and then read the description. It was some lady's first attempt at a chicken chili. I know chili never really looks appetizing but it looked...bad.

Regardless, she was SO happy about this chili, she talked about the things that went well or the things that were difficult, the things she messed up on and the way her cat was so annoying on the counter the whole time.

Curiosity piqued, I checked her page. Her description was that she was a 'cinnamon bear in her 50s' and lived alone. She couldn't draw, or write. She didn't fursuit or sculpt or make music. She claimed she was getting to grandma age and still couldn't understand 'what the devil' crocheting was because she couldn't figure it out. Most of her gallery was pictures of her little house, a very messy garden (looked like a tiny yard she made the best of), her cats. But the rest was pictures of food.

Much like the chili, it was different recipes. Some looked good! Some looked like literal slop. Every single picture was posted and the descriptions were like the chili: things she did well, or learned, or messed up on. I followed her, and within a few hours, she noted me and told me she was so happy that I followed her. She had maybe 50 followers on her paws but she was so genuinely warm.

Every day or every other day, she posted pictures of food and a new story. Her food got better. Her pictures got better. She grieved the loss of a cat. She praised her brand new crockpot for being 'a mean old bitch' that seemingly read her moods, burning food for bad recipes but making food tender and juicy when she was happy.

I followed her for maybe three years before she posted a final image of some hospital food. There was no love in this story. She had been fighting a rare blood disease for years. She complained the jello was ass, the plating could use work, how the food was somehow too salty and somehow bland all at the same time. This woman had a mouth on her but she was always so funny with it. She passed away only a few months later.

But that's when something weird happened. I started seeing food on the front page for a few weeks. I don't know what compelled me but I clicked on a picture, and wouldn't you fucking know it, it was her fucking chili recipe. it somehow looked worse than her original attempt but the uploader basically said 'looks like a pig's ass, tastes like heaven. I hope you're proud up there, momma bear'.

Furries have always been the kindest people to outcasts. They saved my life time and time again. They helped me raise almost $8,000 for my dog's surgery. They've helped pay my rent for fourteen years, have given me some of the best friends I've ever made, have let me experiment with comics and use a Patreon and be myself. The community is niche but the love is strong. I hate seeing people dunk on them because 'oh they're weird'.

Maybe they just want to make chili.

[welp-here-goes-nothing]

Oh hey look. ANOTHER one

I would like to preface this by saying that I know literally nothing about Tim Drake. The extent of my knowledge of him is from the occasional batfam skit I would get on tiktok and the like seven pages of the Wayne family adventures webtoon I've read. Not kidding when I say I have his wiki fandom page open in another tab so then I know what the fuck happens and how the fuck he became robin in the first place as I write this. So this will probably be OOC for him.

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

"Bruce you need to stop, you put one of Riddler's men in the ICU." Carson scolded his husband.

"They deserved it." Bruce grunted.

"Did they? Bruce they were twenty, it may not have been the best but they had a life. Now they have six broken ribs, a shattered femur, blunt force trauma to the head, and a punctured lung. What happened to your no excessive brute force rule?" Carson replied.

"Oh you're one to talk. You did the exact same thing to the Joker when you found out he killed Jason." Bruce spat back.

"You're right I did, and maybe me telling you all of this is a little hypocritical. But at least I directed my anger towards the man who actually killed Jason and not any living creature that may remotely look a little villainous, or like they might be having a criminal thought." Carson rebutted.

"Oh well I'm sorry that I'm delivering justice and trying to avenge Jason. You aren't even acting like you care that he's dead!" Bruce snapped.

"Because Jason isn't the first person I've lost Bruce! I am over two hundred thousand years old, I have seen entire civilizations die, bustling planets that took to the stars become barren wastelands. I'm sorry that I'm not handling Jason's death the same way you are by going on a rampage and deciding to be judge, jury, and executioner for anybody who looks at me funny! But if you think for one minute that I don't miss Jason, that I don't wish I could bring him back, or go back to that night and save him. I can bring an entire universe to its knees with a snap of my fingers. Stars and suns can go out if I cough at them, solar systems will crumble if I look at them the wrong way. I have all of this power but I can't bring my own son back. Do you really think that doesn't eat away at me every day? Knowing I can do all these incredible things that people can only dream of and yet I couldn't be there to save him. Do you really think I don't miss Jason? Or that I don't blame myself for his death every single day? If you really believe that I don't care that Jason is dead then I don't want to talk to you. I don't even want to be here right now." Carson snapped.

The manor was silent as Carson made his way towards the front door, his hand was on the doorknob when he looked back at Bruce.

"I'll come back when my husband is back. Not some bloodthirsty vigilante who thinks I'm some heartless bitch and that I don't care about my son." Carson said before leaving.

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

It had been a few weeks since the fight between Carson and Bruce and true to his word Carson had yet to come back to the manor. Clark had visited Carson multiple times and tried to get him to come back but Carson was adamant on not returning until Bruce had apologized for what he said. Truth be told Bruce more than wanted to apologize for what he had said that day but he just didn't know how to. He had tried to send multiple texts conveying how he realized saying that Carson didn't care about Jason's death was wrong and he never should have said something like that but none of them sounded right. Hell he had even driven to Carson's house a couple of times but he was at a loss for words on what to say before he could knock on the door so he ended up leaving.

Carson was in his kitchen baking some cookies when there was a knock at his door. Stopping his mixer and pausing the music he was listening to he walked to his front door and opened it, surprised to see Alfred standing on his porch with a young boy behind him.

"Alfred, what a surprise! And who might this be?" Carson elated as he looked at the boy standing behind him.

"Tim Drake, I'm here to save Batman." The boy answered.

"Oh?" Carson said raising an eyebrow as he looked at Alfred.

"May we come in? I am afraid this is a matter that should be discussed discreetly." Alfred replied.

Carson nodded his head stepping aside to let the two in. Once inside he closed the door behind them and led them to the kitchen as the timer went off for the batch of cookies currently in his oven.

"Alright so what's going on." Carson inquired as he pulled the tray of cookies out.

"It appears Master Bruce, and Master Dick have been apprehended by two face." Alfred explained.

"Is Dick okay? Do you know?" Carson asked almost immediately.

"They are fine, for now. Though you know how Mr. Harvey can be." Alfred warned.

"So that's why we're gonna go rescue them! And we need your help." Tim chimed in.

"Why not call Clark? I'm sure it'd be a lot easier to get them back if you took Clark with you." Carson replied.

"It would raise many questions if superman was seen rescuing Batman and Nightwing. We need someone of your caliber." Alfred answered.

"I'm sorry but I can't." Carson said turning away from the two.

"Why not?! Isn't Batman your husband? And Nightwing he's your son right? That means you should definitely come with us to save them." Tim interjected, confused as to why Carson refused.

"Ha, you're a smart kid. Batman is my husband but we've hit a rough patch. I doubt he'll be happy to see me. And I know Nightwing, he can handle himself." Carson said.

"I am sure Master Bruce would be more than happy to see you Master Carson." Alfred replied in a hopeful tone.

"I doubt it. You know how we left things, but..... If things go south, more than they already have. Call me and I'll be backup." Carson said.

Alfred nodded knowing this was the best they were going to get from Carson as things were still rocky between him and Bruce. With a parting gift to Tim from Carson of one of Dick's old robin suits the two left, leaving Carson to his baking and his thoughts. He looked down at the golden band on his arm that pulsed with light momentarily and Carson thought about going with Alfred and Tim but decided against it.

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

Laughter filled the manor as everyone sat down at the dinner table to eat, a delicious looking feast prepared by Alfred filled the air with a mouth watering aroma. Smiles plastered everyone's faces as they idly chatted about their days.

"And the Riddler was all 'ahhh don't hurt me!' and I was all 'I'm not gonna hurt you, I'm putting you behind bars where you belong!' It was so funny seeing his face as he realized he got beat by a thirteen year old!" Tim exclaimed as he explained his patrol with Bruce in great detail.

"Well glad you had fun bud." Clark smiled as he dished himself some potatoes.

"You two seem to be quite the duo. Reminds me of somebody else I know when they first started out as Robin." Carson said in a teasing tone as he looked at Dick.

"Hey! I was not that excited about taking down criminals." Dick replied trying to defend himself.

"You were worse." Bruce chuckled causing the table to erupt in a small fit of laughter.

The rest of dinner continued like this filled with happy chatter and laughter bringing a bright air to the previously dark and solemn manor. After dinner Tim all but begged Dick to show him some acrobatic moves down in the cave, which the latter happily obliged to leaving Bruce, Clark, and Carson to their own devices upstairs.

"He seems to be adjusting really well. I'm glad he's doing so good here." Clark smiled.

"Me too. I was worried for a bit that his motivation would be fueled by revenge after what happened to his parents but he really seems like he just wants to make the world a better place." Bruce said.

"Speaking of. What is with us adopting kids who have dead parents. First Dick, and then Jason, and now Tim. Starting to think we have a penchant for adopting traumatized orphans." Carson said causing the other two men to laugh.

"Well someone has to. And who better than a traumatized orphan and two aliens." Bruce chuckled.

"He's got a point." Clark said.

"True. Well we should probably head down to the cave to make sure Dick isn't trying to twist Tim into a human pretzel." Carson said making his way to the hidden elevator.

[bunnyboy-juice]

spent the first hour and change at work deleting some old files and am having a grand ol time laughing at myself for not realizing i was a lesbian sooner