#its watching someone in their 50s try to fit into their high school days to prove it still fits

[brw]

ITS LIKE. ITS THE MCU. THE BAR WAS IN HELL. AND YET THEY CAME WITH A SHOVEL. THEY HAD TO GO DEEPER WITH RACIST MISCASTINGS. THIS IS SOME SICK JOKE GENUINELY.

[moriiartist]

‧₊ IT’S THE MOST WONDERFUL TIME (FOR ME TO KICK YOUR ASS)

PAIRING: C!Technoblade x GN!Reader

SYNOPSIS: (High School AU) You and Techno have been self-proclaimed ‘rivals’ since the seventh grade, constantly trying to one-up each other every chance you get. Now that the holiday season is getting into full swing, it’s only logical that the two of you make Christmas decorations a competition as well. The winner gets to decide their prize, and you aren’t losing this thing for the world.

WARNINGS: Language, violence mention, racism mention

A/N: Enemies to lovers? In my self insert fic??? More likely than you might think... Seriously though, I did have a lot of fun writing out you and Techno’s ultimate battle for dominance, and I hope y’all enjoy the chaos!

If someone asked a normal teenager who their mortal enemy was, they’d probably tell them: “What the fuck are you talking about, that is some superhero bullshit.”

If they asked you who your mortal enemy was, you wouldn’t hesitate to inform them that it was, in fact, Technoblade, that stuck-up bastard from the fencing team.

It was no secret at your high school that the two of you had been at each other’s throats for the past decade, forming a heated rivalry that had burned strong for the majority of your lives. If you were honest, you weren’t quite sure how the whole thing began. Maybe he had stolen your favorite crayon set, maybe he had said something far too condescendingly for the last time, or perhaps he had marked you ‘out’ on the FitnessGram Pacer Test when in actuality you had been behind the line when the bell rang.

Who could say?

Whatever sparked it, you and Techno hated the other. Every opportunity you got to make your classmate’s life a little bit worse, you did it. Whether it was hiding his fencing gear all across school grounds, bribing Wilbur to put pink hair dye in his shampoo (which he, unfortunately liked), or getting a higher score on your literature tests, you did it.

Of course, your antics were reciprocated with as much, if not more, ferocity. Every time you sat down in your seat, there was a 50% chance that the entire desk would fall apart under your weight, having been discreetly disassembled until its structural integrity was only hanging on by a thread, or in this case, one loosened bolt. 

You were so sick of his smug face when he turned to you with a perfect score, knowing damn well that you had placed a few points beneath him. But this fight with him, constantly trying to one-up each other in an unending battle to be “the best”... it was addicting, to say the least.

Today was a nice day. You had woken up early, made your breakfast and looked over your chemistry notes before you had your big test today, and boarded the bus with no issue. Today was a nice day, until you opened your locker to find a hundred bouncy balls crammed into it, all spilling out onto the floor and around your feet before you had time to even blink.

You would’ve cursed aloud if you didn’t already know that the perpetrator was standing a few feet away from you, self-satisfied stare burning holes into the back of your neck as he watched you for your reaction to the situation. Allowing yourself a sharp exhale, you spun on your heel to glare at Techno, eyes sparkling with barely restrained ire as you met his gaze.

“I was wondering when you’d make another move,” you said drily, toeing at one of the balls that had made its way to rest itself against your shoe, distaste blatantly stamped across your features.

Techno smirked, brown eyes glittering with a sadistic kind of glee as he took in your annoyance, waltzing closer to you with his hands tucked in the pockets of the signature red parka he always wore when it came to be winter time. The brunette- well, pinkette, you supposed would fit better- had always moved with a grace and confidence that you envied, something gained from hours of fencing practice and physical activity. Not that you’d ever tell him this, though. He always found other ways to embarrass you.

“Move swift as the wind and closely-formed as the wood. Attack like the fire and be still as the mountain,” he said, an air of self-righteousness about him that made you simultaneously want to exit your body and break his pretty face in.

You groaned, tearing a hand through your hair in exasperation. “I swear, we read The Art of War, like, one time for world lit and you suddenly become Sun Tzu’s biggest fan. I mean, seriously? At least throw in some Churchill for variety.”

Techno snorted, towering over you as you glowered at him, leaving you with the distinct impression of a Great Dane next to a particularly pissed-off chihuahua. “Churchill was an imperialist and a racist and I don’t respect him.”

You paused, a thoughtful expression replacing your previous scowl.

“Yeah, that’s fair,” you eventually conceded, pointedly ignoring how his smirk grew at your words. “But you’re still a dick.”

You turned your head, missing Techno’s roll of his eyes, and sighed heavily as you saw the absolute mess that had spread through the hallway. It wouldn’t be long before a teacher or member of the school staff would come around the corner to start berating you, and you only had a couple of minutes to start cleaning up before you had to be in class.

Grumbling to yourself, you crouched to start collecting the bouncy balls in your hands, carefully stuffing them into whatever pockets you had available. You fully expected Techno to gloat about his victory and then disappear, so you startled slightly when he shifted to start picking up the prank debris as well.

“The fuck are you doing?” you asked, barbed words softened slightly by the genuine confusion behind them. Techno shrugged, cherry blossom pink hair falling over his face to obscure his expression.

“What does it look like I’m doin’? If Ms. Puffy finds out I made this mess and didn’t clean it, I would be banned from participating in the club meets for the next month.”

You resisted the urge to groan aloud, instead settling on shooting the teen an unamused look. “Ah, of course. We couldn’t have our ‘star performer’ out of commission, could we?”

Techno huffed a laugh, and you elbowed him in the side on your way to deposit the, quite frankly absurd, amount of bouncy balls in a nearby trash can. However, as you turned to face the tall teen, you found yourself clueless on how to continue the conversation. 

You had never really… talked with Technoblade. Normally, that is. You were more than familiar with the witty banter and traded insults that came with the animosity that crackled between the two of you, but it had been years since you’d held a semi-casual conversation with the pinkette. It was almost ironic how much more intimidating it was to try and break the silence than when you challenged Techno head-on in a battle of intellect.

To your surprise, Techno looked about as uncomfortable with the quiet that had fallen as you did, averting his eyes from your figure and awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck. Mercifully for you, though, he buckled over the rising tension first, blurting out the first thing that popped into his head.

“Have you put up your holiday decorations yet?”

You blinked, your brain buffering for a moment before you finally processed the teen’s rushed question, and it was a few seconds before you were able to force an answer out through your surprise. “Uh- not yet, no. Why do you ask?”

“Oh,” Techno seemed a little lost for words, as though he had no idea why he had said that either. ‘Just curious, I guess? Phil already put all of our stuff up, an’ I thought you would be the type to do it early too.”

“Of course you would be the one to start decoration in November,” you muttered, rolling your eyes in one exaggerated motion. “I wait until later to start, like a sane person. Everyone knows that the more you wait to put yours up, the better they’ll be.

The pinkette’s face smoothed over into a deadpan. “So you’re telling me our decorations suck?”

Grinning devilishly, you nodded. “Well, it’s only natural for them to be.”

Techno leaned forward, the competitive gleam in his eye sending a thrill through your entire body. “I bet I can make our yard look a thousand times better than yours.”

“No way,” you shot back immediately, not even hesitating before stepping up to meet his challenging gaze.

This- this was what always brought you back for more. The hunger for the win, the tantalizing opportunity to lord your victory over one of the most accomplished students at school, and the look that Techno had on his face. Eyes narrowed, lit from within with a blazing fire, and a cocky smirk spreading from ear to ear.

“Prove it. The day before Christmas, we’ll show everyone our houses, and then we’ll see who's decorating skills suck.”

You tilted your head, making a show of thinking his offer over. “What’s in it for me?”

“The winner gets to make the loser do anything they want.”

Nothing else could compare to the rush of energy that shot through you, and, knowing all of that, you felt an answering grin stretch across your own face, a twin to his. It was no surprise, to you or anyone else, that you took him up on the offer.

You were going to beat Technoblade Craft into the ground. That is, if the custodian didn’t murder you first.

Long story short, you prepped for this competition like you prepped for your end-of-course exams. Any free time you had was spent fervently researching ‘good Christmas decorations’ and scribbling down designs in the margins of your school notebooks. It even got to the point where you were obsessing about it during your lunches, casual eating and friendly banter with your friends replaced with your nose stuck even more in your work than usual.

A few days had passed since you’d accepted Techno’s challenge when your ‘studying’ was interrupted by a lunch tray slamming down onto the table you were sat at. Jolting out of your manic-charged stupor, you jerked your head up to see Wilbur flop down into one of the seats across from you, sighing heavily.

“I fucking hate the both of you,” the brunette groaned, chocolate brown eyes pinned to the paper you were sketching on as though it had personally offended him.

You blinked once, twice, before opening your mouth to say something. “Excuse me?”

“Techno’s been going on and on about that stupid decoration thing you two have got going, and I am going to throw myself into the ocean if he goes on another goddamn tangent about the intricacies of light stringing.”

Wilbur Soot wasn’t a friend of yours, exactly. You two got along just fine, but the teen had made it clear many times that he mostly hung out with you to get back at his brother, who considered Wilbur abandoning him for you an ultimate act of betrayal. Don’t worry though- you were 100% okay with this arrangement. More than okay, actually- watching Techno get progressively more and more annoyed as he oh-so-subtly glared at the two of you was hilarious.

“You know how they get Wilbur,” Quackity spoke from where he was seated next to you, leaning forwards to rest his elbows on the table. “This shit’s not gonna let up ‘till one of them wins.”

Wilbur groaned again, voice pitching high and whiny as he dramatically slammed his head down to rest next to his tray. “But why do we have to get involved? Why can’t we just watch them try and flirt with each other from the sidelines?”

You couldn’t stop yourself from choking on the sip of water you had just taken, nearly spewing it all over your papers.

“What the fuck?” you gasped, coughing and spluttering as you stared at the brunette in pure disbelief.

Quackity rolled his eyes. “He’s not wrong. It’s amazing how the both of you are so smart but so dumb at the same time.”

“We don’t- Quackity, I- what?” you spluttered, feeling as though you were going through all five stages of grief at once. “I don’t like Technoblade. You two of all people should know that.”

Wilbur raised his head just so you could see the skeptical expression on his face, one dark eyebrow raised as he appraised your dumbfounded expression. “Wow. Somehow, you’re stupider than I thought.”

Feeling heat rush into your cheeks, you made a noise somewhere between a squeak and a shriek and chucked your drink at the brunette.

It was worth it to see him squawk, even though it was only a couple seconds before you had to run for your life.

Other than your friends being annoying and not understanding that you and Techno were Bitter Rivals™, you lived your life with relative normalcy. The little competition that you and the unfortunately pretty pinkette had going on ramped up quickly, and it wasn’t long before the rest of the school was aware of it. On more than one occasion you had caught sight of flyers hanging on the bulletins or hallway walls as you made your way to your classes, each advertising their support for either you or your opponent. (None of them stayed up for long with the school’s rigorous policy against vandalism, but you guessed it was fun while it lasted)

And, in proper high school fashion, it wasn’t long before you heard about the betting pools that people were making for who would win, for who would be named the ‘ultimate victor’ over the other.

In the end, though, it didn’t really matter to you- whatever people thought about the bet was irrelevant. What was relevant, however, was that you were almost a 100% sure that Techno was stalking you. Not like that, of course, but, well… let’s just say you had seen him a suspicious amount of times when you were trying to put up your stuff.

You had already finalized what design you wanted to make- something inspired by the legend of the snow queen, full of blue and gold lights and icicles (although where you lived it was too hot to get any real snow), and you were wrapping the trees that grew in your front yard with strings of little yellow LEDs when you spotted him for the first time.

You didn’t think much of it when you saw him, after all, you lived in the same county, and it wasn’t all that odd to see one of your classmates out and about. No- you only got suspicious when you turned around thirty minutes later to make direct eye contact with him.

It was as if he was actively spying on you, face blank and almost bored as he jotted down things into one of those small notebooks that you thought only detectives from those old noir films had.

You could be doing something- anything, really- in your yard that was somewhat related to the competition and he would show up.

One of those times you were fiddling with the icle lights you had fixed to drip down from the eaves of your house, balancing precariously on your mother’s ladder, when you heard the crunch of boots on grass behind you.

“What do you want, Techno?” you said, not even having to turn around to see who it was.

The teen hummed, rocking back and forth on his heels as he observed the work you’d already done with a critical eye. “Oh, nothin’ much. I was in the area and wanted to see how you were doing.”

You felt your eyebrows climb up your forehead, feeling a mix of disbelief and amusement. Oh, so you were doing this now?

“Really? Well, now that you’ve made your inspection, I think it’s time for you to kindly fuck off.”

Technoblade laughed, and you found your lips tugging up at the sound, finally shifting to look down at the pinkette. He was wearing his glasses today, the golden frames glinting in the slowly dying sunlight, and his pale face was flushed pink from the biting chill that nipped at your face. It was a cold day, one of the coldest in the season so far, and you weren’t able to stay warm even in your thick winter jacket.

“Nah,” he said nonchalantly, watching with a bemused smile as you sighed heavily.

“God, you’re so difficult,” you muttered, the statement most intended for your ears only, although the sound of Techno’s breathy chuckle made it evident that he had picked it up.

Hardly a few seconds had passed before Techno was opening his mouth to speak again, a more contemplative expression washing over his features. “What are you going to do with the favor thing if you win? Which, of course, will never happen- but just for the sake of the argument.”

You rested your arm on one of the ladder rungs as you looked down at him, snark forgotten as you genuinely considered the question.

“I’m not sure, actually,” you started, a note of honesty in your voice that made your words ring true. “Probably make you dye your hair another color or make up your senior quote for you.”

“Huh,” Techno mused, something strange crossing over his face that you couldn’t quite recognize. “Nothin’ else? Not even, like, my mythology books or somethin’?”

You wrinkled your nose, something bitter rising in your throat. “No, of course not. I may hate you or whatever, but I would never take those away. Everyone and their mother knows that your mythology is important to you.”

“Right,” he said, although his gaze had taken on a glazed-over quality that gave you the impression that his mind was far away. He took a few steps back, giving you an awkward wave as he turned to leave. “Yeah, um- good talk.”

You thought that you had a pretty good understanding of how Techno’s brain worked, but it seemed as though he loved to defy all expectations- including those you had about his investment in the competition.

You see, while you were out and working on your exhibition every day, the few times that you had gone past the Craft household there had been no change beyond what Phil had already done. None, nil, nada. It was as though Techno had no ideas to backup all of his bluster, which you knew for a fact had never happened before.

You didn’t trust it.

Not. One. Bit.

The days flew by until it was finally the night before Christmas Eve. It had been a hassle to get all of your friends out to judge you and Techno’s decorating skills, especially Wilbur, who had made several complaints despite living with one of the competitors, but you had managed to do it.

Night had fallen an hour or so ago, so the sky was painted in hues of navy and velvety black as you and the rest of the group made your way down the empty streets of your neighborhood, breath clouding in the near-freezing air.

“D’you think you’re gonna win?”

You glanced up to find that Quackity had fallen behind the rest of the group to walk in step with you, the blue beanie that he usually wore pulled even tighter around his head to combat the nippy weather. You rolled your neck to the side, eyeing him with a confidence that came from working many, many hours on your décor.

“Yeah, pink bitch won’t know what hit ‘em,” you murmured, something final and self-satisfied in your tone, convinced of your own victory. “As far as I’ve seen, he hasn’t even touched his house.”

Quackity hummed, not completely convinced. “Are you sure? Techno can still surprise even you sometimes.”

Scowling, you absorbed the dark-haired teen’s words unhappily. Although he was right about the pinkette, you didn’t want to believe that he could pull off a trick as dramatic as that.

“Maybe,” you finally conceded, breaking eye contact with your friend to stare up at the sky. “But if he does, I’m going to commit several acts of violence.”

Quackity laughed, a loud, bright sound, and you found yourself grinning as you finally made your way onto your street. However, as your house came into view, the sound of banter and giggling from the rest of the group shifted to gasps as they sounded their appreciation as the effort you had put into making it look like the winter wonderland from your fantasy stories. 

Bathed in blue and gold light, the icicles that you had hung from every available edge- the roof eaves, tree branches, and porch fence- glittering coldly. You had hung wreaths from your doors and windows, each frosted white and blue from the cans of spray paint you had found in your garage. A family of wire deer were posed in the very center of the yard, twinkling merrily as if in greeting to you.

You grinned, crossing your arms as Techno shifted to look at you, and locked gazes with the pinkette. You couldn’t help the smirk that spread across your face at his expression, the teen looking almost impressed, but your mood quickly morphed into something resembling dread as amusement flashed through his features.

… What was that look for? Techno- Techno what are you planning?

Walking over to Wilbur and Technoblade’s house was a nerve wracking experience once everything you had done had been appraised, your eyes glued to the pinkette’s head as you tried to read his mind through sheer force of will.

When everyone finally saw his house, the reaction that they had given to yours paled in comparison. There was a riot of noise as your eyes set upon what Techno had done, and you felt the blood drain from your face as you realized that: oh shit, you had just lost.

Through some witchcraft or black magic, your rival had completely transformed his yard seemingly overnight. What had once been a simple set of lights strung through the bushes and maybe an inflatable decoration or two had turned into an explosion of color and noise. Somehow, the pinkette had hooked up a speaker to play ‘Carol of The Bells’, and rigged the many, many lights he had laid to flash to the music. Santa and his reindeer, or at least a statue of them, were placed on top of the roof, mid-landing, and somehow, the grass had been frosted despite the fact that it had never snowed.

Upon your wide-eyed look, Techno just shrugged. “It’s tough, bein’ the best.”

You could only gape at him as Wilbur clapped you on your shoulder, face filled with something that was a little too amused to be genuine sympathy. “Well, it seems like the general consensus is that Techno is the winner!”

Resisting the urge to scream into your hands, you shook yourself out of your shocked stupor to shake his hand in a sportsman-like manner, dying inside as the group around you snickered at your obvious embarrassment.

“I don’t know how you did this,” you started tiredly, rubbing at your eyes. “But at this point I’m too afraid to ask. GG and all that, I guess.”

Before Techno could answer, Wilbur was barging into the little bubble that the two of you were in, slinging one arm around the pinkette’s shoulders as he looked at him expectantly.

“Well, Techie? What do you want our loser here to do?”

You grimaced. Ah yes, the prize. The reason why you had agreed to do this at all. Steeling yourself, you made eye contact with the teen in front of you, fully prepared for him to make some outlandish request and leave you unable to challenge his greatness for the rest of high school.

This was it, he had gotten you.

To your surprise, Techno broke your gaze, letting go of your hand to scratch at the back of his neck awkwardly. “Uh, well, let’s not get too hasty here. We still have the rest of the night to hang out n’ stuff, so we really shouldn’t-”

Tommy, who had been standing to the side with the rest of the ‘Bench Trio’, as they had dubbed themselves, barreled into the conversation, taking up residence on Techno’s other side.

“Do you really expect us to believe that, big man?” the teen barked a laugh, a teasing Cheshire grin stretching across his face as he stared up at his older brother. “I remember what you told us you would ask for.”

“Yeah, Technoblade, we remember. Unless… you’ve chickened out?” Wilbur gasped dramatically like the theater kid he was, pressing a hand to his chest to accentuate his words.

You blinked, confused as Techno’s face seemed to redden further. If you were being honest, you had absolutely no clue what the trio were talking about, but as you watched the pinkette fluster further and further- and expression you had never seen on him before- you began to get an inkling of what they might’ve been referring to.

Heat rose in your own cheeks as well, and you shot a panicked glance at Quackity, who was standing to the side with a smug grin affixed on his features. Upon seeing the look on your own face, a wordless plea for confirmation that this was not what you were thinking of, he only laughed at you, breaking down into uncontrollable giggles to your dismay.

“Techno, what-” you started, fidgeting with your fingers nervously, but broke off when the teen sighed in defeat.

“Alright, alright- I was gonna ask you for a kiss,” he muttered, shooting his brothers a searing glare from where they were giddily watching your interactions. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, though. ‘S completely fine.”

You blanked.

“Oh,” you said intelligently, brain whirring as more heat rushed to your face. “Um, okay.”

How were you supposed to fucking respond to that? What do you say when your mortal enemy suddenly becomes all shy and stuff when he’s asking you for a kiss? How are you supposed to react when you realize that, maybe, your dumbass friends were right about the whole flirting thing?

Techno paused at your words, a mix of bewilderment and something heartbreakingly hopeful passing across his expression. “Okay?”

Techno paused at your words, a mix of bewilderment and something heartbreakingly hopeful passing across his expression. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you said again, more firmly this time. “It would be bad form to back out now, and I don’t really mind.”

The pinkette nodded at your words, clearly trying to return to your normal dynamic. “Of course, of course.”

A second passed in which the both of you just stood there, the gaze of your friends boring holes into the both of you as they whispered, and you finally realized that you would probably have to be the one to take initiative on this. Taking a few hesitant steps forward, you halted when your chest was brushing his, tilting your face up to look at him.

You were so close to the teen that you were sharing breaths, warmth fanning your cheeks as your noses brushed together. Taking a deep breath, you didn’t wait any longer before going on your tippy toes to press your lips to his, savoring the soft noise of surprise he made before his hands found your hips.

The kiss lasted for maybe a few seconds, and when the both of you pulled apart, the group around you broke into cheers, Quackity practically tacking you from the force of his celebration. You couldn’t make out the majority of what they were saying, but you got the gist that they had ‘been waiting for this a long time’, and that they were relieved ‘you idiots can finally stop your mutual pining bullshit.’

As your eyes met Techno’s through the chaos, you couldn’t help the soft smile that tugged at the corners of your lips, finding a matching one on his own.

You may have lost the competition, but you might have just won something even better.

@danny-boy27 @the-tired-system @silently-plotting-murder @g0re-h0und @hermitscapes @peanut-is-freed @itsonlydana @sina-the-idiot @amearla @rabukabait​

[stopeatingwhales]

the 1995 brits x damon albarn & liam gallagher

hhhiiii I'm here with a very cute little fic about the brits!! the idea of writing something with Damon and liam fighting over someone was requested quite a long time ago (sorry it’s taken so long omg) but I loved the idea!! I do hope you all enjoy it as I enjoyed writing it a lot hahah xx

Pairing: 90s damon albarn & 90s liam gallagher x reader

Warnings: nothing, just a little bit of bickering n dat

Word count: 3.057

Requested by anon x

༉‧₊˚✧

Being a part of the madness that adapted the name ‘Britpop’ was truly an experience. Paparazzi at every corner you turn, equipped with the brightest, flashiest cameras, also having the most annoying click noises to the point that after one image you’ve earned yourself a migraine that would last the entirety of the day; parties that would last entire nights, bearing millions of different kinds of drugs - some that hadn’t even been given a name yet, but you’d still give a try anyways, since you’re so high and drunk that you simply lose the intellectual capability to construct decisions, you say fuck it, and get so high to the point that you’ve blacked out in a booth in a bar, with the owner asking you to get out since you’ve been inside for one too many hours after closing time; as well as constant press coverage. With your name plastered over literally every newspaper and music magazine known to man, as well as having your entire life consistently dictated for the entire nation to read about every Sunday morning and indulge themselves into as a form of entertainment, it was what being famous delivered, right on your doorstep at 7 in the morning. Any earlier and you’d feel rude not to give them a cup of tea as a form of dignity and respect towards their sublime dedication to the job. Although it was fun being associated with it all, my band in particular gaining a different form of calidity due to it being a female fronted band, by the time that the entire nation was hooked on this ‘Blur vs. Oasis’ rivalry, it was as if every other britpop band had been washed away from existence, due to eight boys arguing as to whom had the better music. And the better looks, according to Liam Gallagher.

Tonight was the night of the Brit awards, perhaps the most prestigious awards ceremony for music. To be awarded a Brit was probably the largest achievement possible in British music in the form of an award, and it was definitely either going tonight to either Blur or Oasis. The chances that another band, say Pulp, were to get the award, would not only be extremely amusing to see the reactions of the two biggest names in the Britpop game, but would also cause the largest uproar in the nation. It’s either Blur or Oasis. “Their drama is so silly,” laughed Emily, the guitarist in our band whilst flicking through the latest edition of the Sun, the cover of the newspaper being, of course, Liam Gallagher. “They’re literally bickering about who looks the best. How do people find this interesting?”

“Because of how silly it is, people never leave their secondary-school-like selves. Just a bit of fun I guess.” I replied, fixing up my hair in the mirror in front of me. We were currently getting ready to go to the award show, and needing to look your best was an expectation. Though I wasn’t dressed in anything that would result in jaw’s dropping, it was important that I at least appeared somewhat admirable - the entire nation always had their eyes on us, but tonight they were going to see us all, live. Perhaps the reason why bands like Oasis and Blur are so obsessed over nowadays, since all they’ll do is turn up in some flimsy Adidas t-shirt and call that fashion. I suppose scruffy was the new elegant.

“Who do you think they’ll give the award to?” she questioned, still aimlessly flicking through the recycled pages of the magazine. “I think Oasis. Their music is so much better than Blurs.”

“Really? I’d say Blur. They won on top of the pops, so the likelihood of them winning the Brit award is highly likely,” I answered, shuffling away from the strong reflection of myself towards Emily, my eyes quickly scanning the page that she had her eye on currently. “Gosh Liam’s so full of himself.”

“He’s got his eye on you, you know,” She said, shoving the paragraph she had just read in my face of Liam boasting about his little crush he had supposedly gained from watching our latest performance on top of the pops. “Thinks you’re ‘well fit’.”

Scoffing in response, I mumbled back to Emily. “If he thinks that he’s sleeping with me, he’s very deluded.”

By the time we had arrived at the venue, you weren’t able to walk into the entrance without at least 50 cameras blinding your eyes and the shouts of so many begging for you to quickly turn your head and grin - the price for the photo would reach the many thousands. Once walking in, it was less crowded, only having select people by the ground floor, dedicated for musicians and bands, with the occasional interviewer walking past to every circled table, adorned with white cloth and champagne glasses, asking questions about how they’re feeling, who they think may win, and what they thought of the music throughout the past year. What was nice was that people didn’t have that much interaction with one another, just with their groups. It created a sense of formality in the space, which made me feel a bit at ease from the idea of some random row happening in the middle of the floor, most likely between Liam and Damon. The past year in music was truly something. Britpop was at its peak the entirety of the year, with songs like Parklife and Supersonic pouring out of every radio station in Britain that by the end of the year, you had ditched casual radio music and began blasting the classical station. It was a nightmare. Since the fall of grunge subsequent to Cobain’s death the previous year, the talk of any other genre in Britain apart from Britpop didn’t occur. It was as if we were living on this mystical island, miles away from any other music and culture, whilst adorning and obsessing over our own. What was nice about Britpop was that it was a pure celebration of English culture, whether it be a simple Sunday roast, or going to school, they all carried the same ambience of nostalgia and pride - also disregarding whichever band wrote what song.

“Free champagne… Yes please,” said Madeline, the secondary guitarist of the band, whilst heading to the first seat she could sit on, then quickly indulging herself with the first taste of the rich drink. “Oh my gosh it’s heavenly!”

Laughing at her reaction, the rest of the band took a seat around the table and took their first sips of the champagne, which we would all come to find to be indeed heavenly. Small talk was shared here and there with the rest of the group, but overall I stayed silent. In all honesty I found attending award shows was quite boring because if you didn’t end up getting an award, you would essentially be sitting there for two hours doing nothing. Even if you did win an award, it’s simply a minute of glory with the speakers blasting your music, and another minute of all eyes piercing into your soul as you make sentences about your gratitude towards those who had helped you along the way to earn such an achievement. I doubt anybody genuinely liked attending shows like these.

“The champagne is good, yet we don’t get enough for our table,” I complained, grasping my now empty champagne glass and waving it around in the air. “I’m gonna head to the bar to get a refill, anybody want anything?”

After receiving a handful of nos from the rest of the band, I took myself out of my seat and wandered over to the bar, which was empty, perhaps due to the venue not yet being completely filled with all the artists that were set to attend the night. “Just a refill of the champagne, please.” I asked politely, handing the bartender the used glass I had kept in my hand. Whilst waiting, I noticed that Damon was on the other side of the bar, who also didn’t notice me there, until he caught eyes with me.

A grin broke out on his face as I walked over to him. “You alright?” He asked me, quickly thanking the bartender for his drink and turning back to look at me. The height difference between us was evident, but it wasn’t the case of something so dramatic that he was the height of the empire state building and me, just a measly common tower in the city. He looked quite content, his hair scruffy yet neat, along with his outfit being just as I had assumed: a white shirt with jeans, a used pair of Adidas for shoes.

I smiled back at him and nodded. “Suppose you have high hopes for the award tonight.” I said, simultaneously receiving my refill of the beverage I had ordered, followed by my thanks. We stood adjacent, although there was enough distance between us to establish our relationship - mutual acquaintances whom had met every now and again, since they’ve both been dragged into this wormhole of madness. He was quite the opposite in comparison to his rivals, though he himself could be quite bothersome occasionally, he still had a grasp to what those may call sensibility.

“Oh well we’re better than them, aren’t we love?'' He chirped, his head now cocked to the side in a teasing manner. “I’ve heard that you’re rooting for us this year.” He added, a little smirk pasted on his face.

“Do you read every paper you see?” I questioned, my face turning away from him in slight embarrassment. Between us, there was no shared intention for a relationship to stem, though there was definitely a flirtatious tension that followed between us wherever we had met. Whether it be a random photoshoot for a magazine double-spread, or backstage at top of the pops, we always managed to share a chat with one another, and nothing else followed on from then. It was quite sad, because once you’ve established a connection between something you either both disagree or agree with in terms of societal views, something in the press, or life in general, you’re instantaneously cut off and asked to hop onto stage to record a meaningless three-minute performance with fake, plastic instruments which practically mean nothing.

“Well it was nice seeing someone else's face on the papers for once.” He replied, downing his drink, then ushering at the bartender for another. A thing that we both realised was that, between our conversations, we indirectly indicated that we were both there for each other, because we both had a complete understanding towards what may be happening to the other person. It was stressful being in the limelight constantly, and for someone who was the frontman of a band so large, with his face plastered on every magazine cover imaginable, things were bound to be stressful.

Sighing, I turned to face him again. Despite the fact that before I had the ability to respond, our conversation was cut short from a voice shouting my name from behind. “Well if it isn’t bloody Y/N.” the voice said, and from then I instantly knew it was Liam’s. Turning my face away from Damon’s, I locked eyes with Liam. As always, he was dressed in the usual: a parka, with casual jeans. Oh, and don’t forget the Adidas shoes. Even though he and Damon practically hated each other’s guts, they always seemed to have similar fashion senses, but I could never picture Damon in a parka. And I don’t think I even want to.

“How’ve you been love?” He asked, swinging his arm around my shoulder in a warm, but nonchalant manner. Me and Liam had a similar relationship to that of mine and Damons, simply just minusing the sentimentality of it. We were friends, and had come across each other at random parties, which opened the gateway for us to drink and get high together many a time. While he was quite the idiot, he was also a very fun guy to be around, but I knew Damon would never understand that. “And why’re you letting this twat chat to you?”

A laugh escaped Damon’s throat. “I think you’re the only twat here, Liam,” he began, a sigh leaving my mouth as I was trapped in a situation that I could only pray didn’t gain much traction from the rest of the attendees. “Me and Y/N are friends, don’t suppose we’re getting jealous are we?”

Liam’s grip on my shoulder tightened as I stared at his reaction to Damon. I felt quite small in this situation, due to me needing to tilt my head a good amount to properly look at Liam, and knowing if I left it would just erupt chaos and make it worse. “No need for me to be jealous when I know that she wouldn’t want to spend a minute with you in bed you bastard.”

“And you’re so sure about that are you?” Damon replied, amusement laced in his words. “Because you’ve totally spent a minute with her haven’t you?”

“Well I’ve got my arm around her haven’t I? And she’s not stopping me,” Liam argued back, a smirk entwined on his lips. Reaching for my hand, Liam grasped it lightly, then then brought it to his lips, kissing it, before holding it gently. Method of intimidation, perhaps, and though it was sweet, there was a time and place. And this was definitely neither the time, or place. “Who’s the jealous one now, eh?”

“The last I recall, she had hoped that we were winning this year, not you,” He boasted, moving the contents of his drink around whilst grasping it firmly. Whilst it would be something that would offend Liam, he was simply the type of person to not take criticism regardless of whomever it was coming from. I respected him for that. “So much so for a healthy relationship.” Damon mocked, staring into my eyes as a small laugh escaped my lips.

Granted that I had found the argument shared between the pair of them to be extremely silly, it was good entertainment as the time passed before the award show would begin. Watching them both, attempting to throw insults at one another, each one trying to cut a little deeper than the one previous, made me almost laugh at the both of them right there. “You know, it’s so silly that you both think you know me so well to think which one I’d pick from the both of you,” I said, detaching myself from Liam’s embrace and snatching my half-empty glass of champagne. “At this point, it’s neither of you.”

Walking back to my band’s designated table, I quietly took my seat as the show began. “Saw you chatting to Damon,” Emily whispered, raising her eyebrows. “Also saw you grinning like a madwoman.”

“Oh shut up you,” I replied, looking back at the bar to notice that both parties had left, assuming back to their places. “There’s nothing going on between me and Damon- Liam too in fact.”

~~~

As the ceremony went on, the boredom got to us. Even the amount of drinks I had didn’t entertain me, but what could we do, we were stuck in the middle of an award show celebrating music, even though I had largely doubted that the majority of those attending were enjoying themselves. I had no clue who the awards were going to be handed out to, and whether that somebody may be us in a category, but we all knew Blur were going to win something. Yes, Oasis had gained a lot of fame and had become one of the most famous bands in the music scene at the minute, but by the way things had gone for Blur after the release of Parklife, things only seemed to go further up from there. And that was only proven to be truthful, after Blur had left with four different awards.

After Blur had received their fourth award for best British group, we all knew that there was nothing left for Oasis. “They’ll get it all next year, they only debuted this year you know.” I said to the table, who were staring at the four smiley boys on stage as they trotted up to receive their award. I admired Damon as he said his speech, then also turning to look over at Liam, who looked quite evidently pissed off. He was practically drooling in anger from the sight brought to him at that particular moment, and I couldn’t blame him - their band hadn't gone home with one award that night, but neither had ours. “They’ve taken four awards home, isn’t that like, the most anybody has ever taken?”

“Indeed it is,” Madeline replied, taking a sip from her drink. “Must be a good year for them then, eh?”

As I watched the band leave the stage in absolute glee, I stared at Damon as he walked back to his designated seat for the short remainder of the evening. Despite the fact that my band had been sat in our seats the entire evening in complete boredom, just like Oasis and so many other acts that had been nominated for pointless awards, it would be a lie to say that I wasn’t proud of how far Blur as a whole had come and evolved through their music, and especially Damon. From beginning as young, bowl-cut boys only charting so far on top of the pops, to creating songs and melodies that could unite our entire nation, it was impressive.

Damon was the face of Britain at this very moment, and a very good looking one. Once I watched him sit down, he scanned the room for a while until he was able to find where I was sitting, which was parallel to his seat, merely a couple metres away. He connected eyes with me as soon as he found me, also accompanied with a small smirk painted on his expression as he raised his eyebrows and sent me a wink. I simply smiled back at him in response before turning away abruptly, disrupting the little moment we seemingly shared, and though I felt my heart flutter a little, he’s definitely not winning me that easily.

[dystopia-fantasy]

Always read the job description -Part 1

Max was a fit, well built man. He had been body building since he was 14 and now In his early 40s he has the body of a god, but is slowly getting to the age when he needs to find another way to make money. He knows he can't take part in his competitions anymore, and needs to take it easy. He got great grades in school and college, proving people wrong that you can't be a nerd in a jock body.

Max had some money saved and was able to keep up on bills for a few months but needed a job to keep his large house, in the rich area of the city. He got a call from a business he applied to a couple of days ago, telling him to go in for an interview tomorrow, and if it goes well he will be sent straight on a trip for the company. He gets his new blue suit ready to be worn the next day.

The morning arrives, it's 5am, and Max wakes. He does his normal morning routine, making breakfast, working out, taking a shower, then gets his suit on ready for his early morning interview. Driving to the office building in the middle of New York, it's at least 50 stories high, and is made of mostly glass, and is one of the newest modern builds in the city.

On arrival a large man in his late 60s wearing a suit greets him, "hello sir, you must be max, Sir Mammon is on his way down to collect you, may I say what an amazing suit you have on today".

Max looks the man up and down, seeing the man's huge belly flowing out from under his dress shirt, showing a massive W shape, "thanks mate, you might want a bigger shirt" then points to his belly.

"sorry if I offended you sir, but all clothing has been chosen by Sir Mammon himself" Mammon is the big boss of the business "if you would like to make a complaint I can print you a form".

Max laughs, "No thanks, I'm gonna sit over there, tell Mammon im there".

"will do sir, have a great day" the man says while max walks away paying no more attention to him.

About 15 minutes later a young handsome slender man walks over. "Max is it?" He says behind Max.

"yes.." max says confused.

"I'm Mammon, nice to meet you" he smiles holding his hand out for a shake.

"oh hello Mammon, is wasn't expecting someone so young, no offence of course" max shaking his hand.

Mammon let's out a little laugh, with a little grin "it's ok max, people don't expect someone like me to own such a remarkable company like this one would you like to follow me, we can go up to my office, this is Mark by the way, he's my Butler". Mark is another large man aged around 50, he has a massive belly stuffed into his suit, hes huffing and puffing, like he ran a marithon, "don't mind him, most of my staff are..."

Max cuts him off "fat?"

They both laugh, "you could say that Max" the elevator arrives and they all walk in, "now max, you did read the whole advertisement correct?".

Max didn't, it's was 48 pages long, who would read it all? He just looked at the wage he would get, it started at $100,000 per month. "Yes, I did".

"that's good, most guys are more keen to keep their body's but I guess if your struggling you'll do anything."

Max now confused just nod's and watches though the glass elevator as they fly up to the top floor.

"where here sir" Mark the butler says peacefully in his British accent.

They walk into the room, and Mammon sits at his desk pouring himself a glass of wisky, and Max one too. Max looks around in aww, the room was covered in art work, with the walls painted in golds and whites and had its own bar. "How do you have all this money?" Max asked.

"a mix of many things, this company, and a few investments paid for this whole building, I have many other ways but we're not here for that." Mammon points at the seat," take a seat max" Max sits the chair is made from leather and is very comfy. "So, max, I've gone through your file, I think you're perfect for the job."

"so, does that mean I have the job?" Max replies confused, expecting to be asked a question.

"well yes, if you agree to the terms"

"terms?" Max still confused.

"well yes, you expect to be paid 10times the amount the normal person for this job without any terms or conditions?"

"well I didn't know.." Max gets cut off.

"Max let me simplify them for you. You sacrifice your body to the company, and in trade you get, $100k X the amount you weigh paid into your account per month, So if you weigh 450lbs, you get $450k a month."

"what the fuck? That's sick, I'm not doing that, I'm leaving" and with that Max got up from the chair and stood face to face with Mammon, with the desk all that is separating them. "Your sick, you fa**ot".

With that Mammon's eyes glow a bright red. "I'm a what?" Max got through back against the chair by an invisible force. "Max you could have just left with your freedom, but now look what you've gotten yourself into".

"Let me go, What the fuck?" Max says while traped against that chair, it chreeking with the force of his muscle.

"I'm a fucking demon max, I'm never going to 'let you go'" he took a second break to mock max, "now, what did you say? Fa**ot, was it?".

"fuck, I didn't mean it" the force pins him down harder, trapping his arms against the leather chair arms, and pushing his legs against the underboard. "Please let me go home, I won't do it again."

"shut up max, the process is already starting".

Max looks down to see his body deflating, his pecs turning from mountain peaks to a flat surface, his giant powerful arms turning weak and light. And then looking up he sees a whole new man infront of him.

"Not as big as I thought I would get, but boy I'm big" he took a break to admire his new giant arms and pecs.

"what the?" Max looks in confusion, "how did you do that? Give me them back".

"what are you gonna do max? I'm an infinitely powerful being and you, your an old man, or at least your going to be."

"I'm only 42, what do you mean, going to be?"

"you see I don't have my infinite life span on earth, so to stay alive and in this fit body, I absorb anything a guy has and I want. In your case, these massive muscles, but then I need to absorb their life force as well, in order to make sure I don't age."

"what do you mean life force?"

"well, you have roughly 50 years, worth of life left, I'll drain about 20 years leaving you in your future crippled body at around age 60, force you to work for the company for another 20 years, then when your 80 drain the rest of your life, which after you get fat won't be much, then you got to hell."

"man your sick, let me go, LET ME GO!".

A bright red light shoots from Peters hand enveloping Max's whole body, and he starts to age, his face wrinkling, skin dropping, eye sight worsening, hearing getting muffled, and mind changing a little. "Max, you ok old man?".

"yes sir" max was confused in his mind, why did he say sir?

"max, you ready for your Cruise? You can have tones of food for the next 6 months."

"Yes sir, I'm ready" max lifts his head, opening his eyes to see a new blurry room from his new old eyes.

"you're gonna need these from now on" Peters eyes glow and a new pair of glasses appear on Max's face he can now see clear.

"thank you... Sir", max blinks seeing Peter infront of him, "what have you, done to me".

"Max, I've turned you into the perfect office worker, old, brainiac, who is soon going to get fat and live the rest of his life, in an office chair for me, don't worry for accomodation you live here now, we have apartments on floor 30 to 40, all workers live here, it's policy, we have also sent a team to your house to, well, blow it up, that way nobody is going to be looking for you, becuase we can plant a body"

"give me... My.... Body back, give me... My.. life back."

"Max we both know that will never happen, now enjoy a life of gluttony, and prepare yourself for hell, that's gonna be worse then anything I can do to you." Peter snaped his fingers and a red glow enveloped max.

Recovering from the glow max sees two men infront of him with a trolly of sorts between them. "Is he awake" one says,

"I don't know" said the other.

"im- awake" max said in a much older raspy voice.

"good we can now start the feeding" the man on the left said, his body as muscled as a god, ripped from head to toe, and we can see everything.

Max rubs his eyes under his glasses and opens them again, "Fucking hell, put some clothes on both of you".

Both men where nude, one a ripped god, another muscled up but with a big gut. "Clothes are banned here mate" the beefy man said in a type of Australia accent, "you cant say much fella, look at that tiny pecker".

The men laughed pointing at Max's shriveled up old cock and low hanging balls, "what the fuck"max tries to move his arm to cover him but his arm doesn't move, he looks down to see him stuck in a chair, with a cut out hole under his ass, and straps tying him down, trapping him. "What... Are you gonna do to me?" Max asked sceared.

The men laughed at him again, "no need to act to sceared, we're here to feed you for the next 6 months".

"but... Sir said..." Max get cut off.

"he said you'd be going on a cruise? Fucking hell are you dumb? He's a demon, you shouldn't trust a demon" The muscled guy says.

"bro let's start the feeding we have 50 other guys to see and I wanna watch football Tonight." The beefy guys says, and in unison both their eyes glowed a bright red, showing they where demons too.

The trolly between them had several items on top, one long tube, which floated in the air for a few moments before shoving itself down maxes nostril and deep into his stomach, his head flipped back trying to wriggle it out, but it was stuck. Another item moved into his frame, a IV bag holder, holding a giant barrel type object made of glass, and two large bags floated of the table again and started to drain into the barrel, and the tube connected itself to it, starting a flow of the liquid into maxes stomach.

"done" the beffy guy said. "Now we'll be back tomorrow to refill your barrel, and clean you up if you make a mess, but youll basically be unconscious for the next 6 months, due to the drugs were feeding you."

"so enjoy your sleep mate, you'll litterally wake up a different man." The two men laughed and walked out, max tried fighting the restraints but in his crippled form could do nothing. The door slammed and locked, and the room fell dark, max screamed begging into the darkness to be let free, and to have his life back, which he had only an hour before, but nothing happened, nobody came. He felt the drugs taking effect, but tried to fight back, but it was useless, his body slumped and loosened. His mind fell blank as he drifted of into his 6 month hibernation.

[dirtykpopsnaps]

The Resident Bad Boy — Mark Lee smut

Warnings: This fic contains 18+ material. Anyone under 18 seen interacting with this fic will be blocked!!

Contains: bad boy!Mark. Banter between Mark and Y/N. Hate fucking. Unprotected sex. That’s basically it.

Requested:

Words: 3, 478 (wow...I’m getting these requests out faster than I thought. But, I’ve had this request on my mind since it came in...oops😬😬)

———————————————————————

I sigh softly, nibbling lightly on the toast in front of me. Out the window of the kitchen, I’m just able to people slowly waking up in their homes and starting their days. Calmly, my eyes flit over to the digital clock set into the stove. The clock displays back the time 7:00 AM and I climb off the seat. I grab my plate and place it in the sink, grabbing the toast off the top. I shove the toast into my mouth and grab my bookbag off the floor, throwing it over my shoulder. “I’m heading out, mom! Have a nice day!” I call out before walking to the door and heading out into the street.

Calmly, I walk down the street towards the bus stop. Each house on the street looks similar, but different at the same time. At the end of the street, a large stop sign signals the place for the bus stop. A few students are already gathered around the bus stop, some just waiting for the bus and others already studying. I join the group of students and wait patiently. Thankfully, we don’t have to wait long before the bus shows up. Quickly, students step onto the bus and take their seats. I find a seat at the very front of the bus, setting my backpack next to me.

As the time passes, the bus makes a few other stops. Students climb onto the bus and find their seats, talking excitedly to their friends. Up until the last stop, everything is fine. No one bothers me and I sit alone, looking out the window at everything passing. At the last stop, as I do every day, I duck my head and try to avoid all attention. Sometimes this works, other times it doesn’t. Today is one of the days where it doesn’t work. A few people climb onto the bus, finding their seats and talking happily. Then, a person appears at in the isle next to me. “Is this seat taken?” They ask, their voice filled with mock curiosity. I swallow thickly and shake my head, picking up the backpack and pulling it onto my lap. Chuckling to himself, the person takes the seat next to me.

As soon as he sits down, I look out the window and refuse to look at him. The bus slowly starts moving again and makes its way towards our high school. After a few minutes, the boy next to me speaks up again. “Aww, does someone not want to look at me? Did I upset you?” He asks, using a mocking baby voice and trying to get his face into my line of sight. I huff in annoyance, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Leave me alone, Lee. I don’t need your shit this early in the morning,” I growl. Finally, I turn my head to look at him and scowl at him. Just next to me, a thin but muscular young man is smirking at me. His eyes are large and dark, chocolaty brown. His hair is fluffy and dark brown, as well. Just looking at this boy, some might say he looks angelic. But, this boy’s angelic looks have never fooled me. Since the day I met him, I’ve known just the kind of person he truly is.

This man right next to me is Mark Lee. He’s a year above me, a senior at my high school. This young man, as angelic as he may look, has made my life a living hell since the day I met him. My family moved here just a couple years ago due to a promotion my father got. It moved him to another department in Korea and my mother and I moved with him. The day that I started at Seoul Performing Arts High School, I met Mark. He strutted right up to me and started flirting. Most girls would have melted into a puddle. He was the most popular boy in school. He was a bad boy and add to that that he was debuting as a kpop idol, and every girl wanted to be with him. Every girl, that is, except me. I didn’t know who the hell Mark Lee was, but he was too confident and conceited for me to ever fall for him. I wanted nothing to do with him and, ever since that day, he’s made it his goal in life to bother me and bully me.

At my statement, Mark raises his eyebrows. “Oh, you don’t need my shit, huh? Well, you’ll just have to deal, little miss perfect,” he laughs cruelly. I roll my eyes, huffing and looking out the window again. Mark laughs again. “Oh, don’t act like that. You know you like me,” he laughs, wrapping his arm around the seat of the bus and onto my shoulder. I glare at him, shoving his arm off my shoulder.

“You. Wish,” I glare, turning away from him again. Mark rolls his eyes, letting out a deep sigh.

“Fine. Just meet me at our hall during break,” he says plainly. Instantly, my throat feels dry and I look at him, taking deep breaths.

“Who says I want to meet with you?” I ask, lowering my voice. He shrugs his shoulders lightly.

“Well, you’ve never missed one of our meetings before,” he reminds me. I huff again, slumping down in the seat. Mark laughs at my actions, patting my head like one would a petulant child.

Finally, the bus makes its way up to the high school. Kids begin climbing off the bus and I separate myself from Mark Lee as soon as I can. He doesn’t try to stop me and I can see him meeting up with his friends, talking calmly. However, what they’re talking about doesn’t seem to catch his attention. He keeps throwing glances at me and, when he catches me staring back, he blows me a condescending kiss. I roll my eyes, making my way into the school and heading towards my classroom. When I get into the classroom, I find my seat and immediately take a book out of my bookbag. I open the book on the desk and start flipping through it, looking over random bits of information.

For the most part, my morning is fairly normal. My day starts with my vocal practice lessons. The teacher is critical, but only because they want us to do as well as we can. I stay to myself, working with the techniques that he teaches us. About halfway through the class, I start to feel things being tossed at the back of my head. I frown lightly, refusing to turn around and acknowledge it. I know exactly who’s throwing the trash at me and I’m not encouraging him. However, after about another 10 minutes of having trash tossed at me, I whip around. Mark is sitting at the back of the class, laughing with his best friend and looks away when I whip around. “Stop it!” I hiss at him, turning back around and ignoring him for the rest of the class.

At the end of class, the school bell rings loudly. Everyone begins packing up their bags and heading out of the class, walking towards no specific place. We have a 50 minute break now and the students get to spend it however they see fit. Quickly, I gather my bag and throw it over my shoulder, walking out of the room. Looking around to make sure that no one is watching me, I walk in the opposite direction of most students and head further into the school. I walk along the long hallways, making my way towards an empty wing of the school. The classrooms here aren’t used until later on in the day, so this has become our normal meeting spot. As calmly as possible, I head down the hall and wait for him to appear.

Not long after, I hear heavy footsteps as someone makes their way down the empty hall. The person walks along and then turns down the same hall as me. When he sees me standing there, he chuckles lightly. “See? I knew you would show up,” he smiles knowingly. I glare at him, crossing my arms again.

“I hate you,” I sigh, shaking my head at him.

“Well, obviously, you don’t. I mean, it was your choice to show up. You didn’t *have* to come here,” he points out. I take a deep breath, pressing my lips together tightly.

“Whatever,” I mumble, walking down the hall to one of the empty classrooms. Mark follows after me, making no effort to be any quieter. He walks into the room after me, closing the door quietly behind him.

As soon as he enters the room, I press him against the door and smash my lips against his. Mark grunts in surprise, but falls into the kiss soon afterward. When we pull apart, he shoots an infuriating smile down at me. “What a nice greeting. Finally you’re being nice to me,” he chuckles. I narrow my eyes at him, tugging hard at his hair in response. Mark grunts again, screwing his face up in pain. He swats at my hands, pulling them out of his hair. I flash him a tight-lipped smile and he rolls his eyes. “You know you can drop your act here. No one is around to see that you actually *care* about Mark Lee,” he says.

“I *don’t* care about you. You’re just infuriatingly persistent and persuasive. Not to mention, you’re good with your dick,” I tell him. He laughs lightly and I slap my hand over his mouth to muffle the sound.

See, when Mark had first suggested we fuck, almost a year ago now, I had laughed in his face. I hated him. He was like an annoying gnat that just wouldn’t leave you alone. He would pull at my hair. He would lob balls of paper at the back of my head. He would outright flirt with me in front of everyone and anyone. And I can’t tell you how many girls hate me because of that. But, I couldn’t stop thinking about what he had suggested. So, against my better judgment, I showed up. He broke into this huge, shit-eating grin as soon as he saw me. Then, he pulled me into an empty classroom in this very hall and fucked me better than anyone ever could. I’d never been with anyone before that, but I just...knew. He was a major asshole, but he was *so* good with his dick. And, when I told him I was a virgin, he actually showed me kindness and caring for the first time since I had met him. Ever since then, at least once a week, we would meet up and fuck.

When Mark’s laughter has died down, I take my hand away from his mouth. For a few seconds, we just stare at each other, then I lean up and pull him into another deep kiss. This time, he’s not caught off guard and slips his hands down to my hips, holding them tightly. “Someone’s eager,”he chuckles, working on the buttons of his blazer, “What’s the hurry? Don’t you wanna savor the moment?” I glare up at him.

“No, I don’t, Mark. You know we don’t have that much time,” I remind him.

“Jeez! If you wanted my dick that much, all you had to say was ‘please’,” he laughs.

“Mark Lee, if you don’t shut your pretty mouth right now and I fuck me, I *will* leave you right here,” I warn, pulling off my blazer and throwing it over a chair. Mark does the same, working on his tie and shirt.

For a few moments, neither Mark nor I talk to each other. We busy ourselves with throwing off the pieces of our elaborate uniforms and place them around the room. I start working on the buttons of my skirt to drop it, but Mark stops me. “Hey, you know I like that cute little skirt. Keep it on,” he winks. I roll my eyes and stop trying to take it off. Now just in his boxers, Mark drops to his knees and looks up at me. Slowly he trails his hands up my legs until he reaches my panties. He snaps the band against skin, smirking to himself. “These, however...these need to come off,” he chuckles darkly. Immediately after, he slips them down my legs. When they reach my feet, I kick them off and he sets them on top of my blouse and the little bow. Calmly, I slip off my shoes and socks, leaving me in only my bra and uniform skirt.

Standing to his full height again, Mark steps back and hums happily. “Always so gorgeous,” he chuckles. Without hesitation, he drops his last article of clothing and, suddenly, he’s completely naked in front of me. The morning sun lights up his tanned skin beautifully, but my eyes immediately fall to his cock. It’s already standing at attention and ready for us to play. Just staring at it, my mouth waters slightly. It’s just a little longer than average, but it’s very thick and veiny. It always feels so amazing inside of me. After a few seconds of staring, my eyes flit up to his again and he still has that infuriating smirk.

As soon as my eyes meet his, he strides up to me and holds me close. His hand is pressed against the small of my back, keeping us chest to chest. He captures my lips in a heated kiss, swiping his tongue at the seam of my lips. I open them immediately and his tongue makes it’s way into my mouth, fighting for dominance with mine. Although I fight back, I know that he’ll be the one in charge. He’s always the one in charge. Finally, I give in and allow him to take dominance. I feel him smirk against my lips and I have half a mind to slap him, but I decide against it. If I actually were to slap him, he would probably leave me high and dry. Mark moves his lips away from my mouth and starts pressing light kisses against my jaw and neck. “No...no marks, Mark. I can’t cover them right now,” I moan, leaning my head back to give him more access.

“You’re no fun,” he frowns, nipping at my neck.

“Mark,” I say, gritting my teeth. He sighs lightly and continues descending down to my chest.

Smoothly, he begins pressing kisses to the tops of my breasts. He moves the cup of my bra aside and takes my nipple into my mouth, sucking hard. I gasp loudly, threading my fingers into his hair and tugging. He hums against my breast, nipping lightly at the pebble in his mouth. “You’re always so responsive,” he says, moving to the other breast. I hum lightly, tugging at his hair again.

“Mark, don’t waste time,” I moan, trying to steady my voice.

“You’re still no fun,” he groans, leaning back and adjusting the cups over my breasts again. He steps away and takes in my figure, deciding where he wants me. “I wanna see you bent over that desk,” he stares, gesturing his head towards one of the desks nearby.

As soon as the order escapes his lips, I walk over the desk and press my chest against the top, gripping the far edge. I look over my shoulder and bite my lip. “You coming, Lee?” I ask, catching him staring at my ass as the skirt slowly moves up.

“Be patient,” he chides jokingly, striding over and gripping my ass cheek in his hand. He kneads it for a few seconds before pressing his hard cock against my crack. “Are you ready for this?” He asks.

“Just waiting for you stop being a tease, Lee,” I sigh, tapping my fingers against the desk impatiently. I can almost hear him roll his eyes.

“Jesus Christ, woman. Do you ever just take in the moment?” He groans in annoyance.

“Not when we only have 50 minutes to get ourselves off,” I snap.

“You should come to my dorm sometime. I’d take my time with you there,” he hums.

“In your dreams, Lee,” I growl.

“Oh, you bet. Every single night, darling,” he chuckles. I glare at him over my shoulder.

“Mark Lee, fuck me now or I *will* leave,” I growl. He rolls his eyes again, fisting his cock.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, shut up,” he mumbles in frustration.

Just as I’m about to respond, Mark steps up behind me and rubs his cock through my folds. I moan loudly, tightening my grip on the edge of the table. Mark laughs at my response. “Isn’t it you who’s always chiding me about being too loud?” He laughs.

“Mark,” I growl in annoyance, taking deep breaths to try and calm myself. However, before I can say anything else, Mark moves his cock to my hole and presses in. My breath catches in my throat at the feeling and I gasp, clutching the edge of the desk. Mark groans, slowly working himself into me.

“Jesus. No matter how much I fuck you, you’re always so *tight*,” he groans, slowly pulling his cock in and out. Each time he presses back in, he goes in a little further. After several minutes, he’s finally worked himself all the way in.

For a few seconds, he just sits there and allow me to adjust to his size. I can hear him taking deep breaths through gritted teeth, trying not to move before I say he can. When I’m fully adjusted, I nod my head quickly. “Fuck me, Mark,” I moan, pressing my ass back. He groans again, moving his hands to my hips and pulling out. He slams his cock back into me, finding that spot that only he can. I moan loudly, throwing my head back at the pleasure.

“Good girl. Such a good girl for me,” he moans, quicken his pace.

“Only...Only for you, Mark,” I whine, panting slightly.

“Who’s cock makes you feel this good?”

“Your’s, Mark! Your cock makes me feel so good!” He growls, slamming into me yet again. He presses his front against my back, stopping for a moment.

“That’s right, babygirl, only me,” he growls, nipping at the skin of my neck. I groan at the feeling but, before I can chide him for leaving marks, he’s thrusting again.

Quickly, his thrusts reach a point where the desk is scrapping against the floor. That familiar feeling in my stomach is rising and I whine softly. “Mark...Mark, I’m gonna come,” I moan, leaning back against him.

“Come for me, baby. I’m almost there,” he groans. At his words, I allow myself to fall over the edge. I lift up one of my hands, biting it as I fall over the edge. My cunt flutters around Mark, clenching and unclenching involuntarily. He groans loudly, spilling inside of me. I whine, feeling his cum already dripping down my legs.

“Shit...I didn’t mean to do that,” he pants worriedly.

“It’s okay, Mark. I’m on the pill,” I pant back, resting my face against the desk. He laughs lightly, taking in deep breaths.

“Fuck, that’s great,” he says.

For a few seconds, we both just allow ourselves to come down from our highs. When we’ve calmed down enough, we start pulling our uniforms back on. We pull on all of the different parts, checking each other and making sure that we look presentable. I tug my blazer back on when I suddenly notice the unexpected coolness against my cunt. I gasp loudly, searching around the room frantically. “What, what?!” Mark asks in confusion.

“My panties! Where are they?! They were just on top of my blouse!” I whisper-shout, turning around in circles. Mark laughs lightly and I turn to him, my jaw hanging open.

“Why are you laughing at me?!” I ask in shock. Smirking, he tugs something out of his pocket and I’m just able to recognize the color and lace of my panties. “Hey, give those back!” I say, snatching for them.

Quickly, Mark shoves then back in his pocket and smirks. “You’ll get them back when you come to my dorm,” he says plainly, then he turns on his heel and walks off. I stare after him, my jaw hanging open. He did *not* just do that. Finally getting a hold of myself again, I hurry down the hall after him. I hit his arm, begging him to give them back, but he just keeps laughing at me. When he get back into the occupied part of the school, I’m forced to drop it. However, I keep pleading with him for the rest of the day. Let’s just say...I don’t get my panties back...that day, anyway.

[enjennie]

Bottom’s Up

synopsis: the dreamies during a night of drinking somehow end up talking about their exes, revealing the different types of relationships and exes they have or had.

a/n: this has been long been in my drafts so Jisung was still a minor here, thus I didn’t give him any drinks lmao. Enjoy! btw, I’m still deciding if I should make Haechan’s backstory for this, or if the markHyuck one should do…

[10:37]

The boys have arrived, piling into Chenle’s condominium that was set up just to have their long awaited guys night. They planned this weeks prior, promising each other that after their finals they’d set aside time to drink away their thoughts and release any stress they have that built up.

By 10:50 bottles have been popped and cups have been poured, the boys sat in the balcony to feel the cool air of the city night.

“You guys really aren’t sharing?” Jisung watches as the older boys raise their glasses in celebration.

“You wait a few more months, sir,” Mark sets his glass down and pats the younger boy on the shoulder. Guy nights wouldn’t be complete without Jisung, even if he wasn’t allowed to drink yet. He never minded sitting in the living room, playing with Chenle’s console with Jaemin and then later on laughing at his older friends’ shenanigans once the alcohol hit them.

Renjun isn’t quite the drinker, but Haechan made him a bet and unfortunately, he lost. Being an art major wasn’t easy, he knew he had a few more things to finish before his semester ended but with that, Renjun drank to forget.

Besides his plates, he had nothing else to worry about. He’d been getting emails from companies waiting for him to graduate, a family happy to support him, but surprisingly, the boy lacked in the love department.

His previous relationships, only being flings and one night stands, none of them really ever stayed after the cuddles. Except… a particular someone.

On the opposite side of him sat Jeno, who was watching his friends in amusement. Now, Jeno has a high alcohol tolerance. Although he becomes chatty, and starts to excessively clean his surroundings, he takes care of his friends well. Usually he’s the one who tucks them into bed or prevents anything like drunk driving and some other stupid shit to happen.

Jeno the architectural major was the responsible friend in a night out. The single friend who starts playing the guitar to set the mood when 2am rolls in. And, the single friend with the broken heart, which hasn’t quite mended yet even after three years.

Haechan on the other hand, is a messy drunk but handles his alcohol well until the 2nd bottle. The boy has a lot going on in his mind, and was the first to initiate the plan to drink.

His phone rings, but Haechan dismisses it, tapping the red decline button and watching as the screen faded into black. Mark follows his eyes and hesitantly brings it up.

“Aren’t you going to talk to her?”

Haechan only shakes his head before taking another swig. Everyone knows well enough about Haechan and his girlfriend’s on and off relationship. They break up, make up, fight and the cycle repeats.

Mark’s adam’s apple bobs as he asks another question. “Why don’t you just break up? Y’know… for good?”

The boys around them seem to have noticed the tension that built up and had their eyes fixed on the pair.

“I don’t know, man,” Haechan is too drunk to think about Mark’s question. Too drunk to realize how Mark completely sold himself off to be in love with him with that one question. It wasn’t a big secret, especially since Mark has done a poor job in hiding it, but apparently not bad enough for Haechan to see. Everyone knew, except for the clueless boy.

Jaemin was too busy babysitting Chenle, who was having his first drink tonight, to even have shots of his own. He didn’t like drinking, anyway, and used Chenle as an excuse to keep sober.

Jaemin the medical student naturally tells his friends to lay off the alcohol, as it can damage their liver. He can only do so much though, as the others tend to be hard-headed and stubborn.

“I can handle myself!” Chenle protests, reaching for his glass which Jaemin took away. “You’re supposed to drink, eat a lot then drink again,” Jaemin explains. “You’ve only taken drinks so far, you’ll be knocked out in an hour if you keep this up,” He tells Chenle.

Of course, Jaemin knew his way around drinking. He just didn’t enjoy it, doesn’t like the bitter taste of it. Didn’t like how it made him think of his past either. Jaemin’s cup remains half full, and he uses this tactic to not get refills.

It keeps him away from his phone, sober enough to know better than to drunk text her. Even if her presence was all he yearned for at a night like this.

Jaemin x Reader – By My Side

[COMING SOON]

[12:03]

As the night gets deeper, so do the conversations between the close friends. Just like Jaemin predicted, Chenle had his head down on the table already, passed out.

“Jeno, you know what to do,” Jaemin nodded his head, signaling the boy beside him. Jeno gave him his smile, which now looked more drowsy and silly because of his tipsy state.

Jeno lifts Chenle easily, with Jaemin assisting him, leaving the three boys on the table.

“I want ____. Where is she?” Chenle had his eyes closed, mumbling to his friends. Jaemin and Jeno exchanged looks and laughed at the younger.

Poor boy, had a ton of expectations to meet he couldn’t even date around.

Chenle’s main priority had to be his family, and their business. He couldn’t afford any distractions, but to him, she was more than that. She was his driving force, and it hurt the boy to be keeping her a secret. Only the boys knew about his secret relationship, if word got out that Zhong Chenle the son of the most well-respected corporate business owner was dating, it would be the entirety of Shanghai talking about it.

As much as he wanted nothing more than to show the world and tell everyone who he’s in love with, he knew she wasn’t ready to face it all and step into that kind of light yet.

Chenle x Reader – In The Limelight

While the two boys took Chenle into his room, it left the three boys and Haechan’s buzzing phone out in the cold night air that the terrace provided.

“What happened this time?” Renjun asks, in line with the phone that’s close to annoying the hell out of him if it doesn’t stop vibrating the entire table. Haechan had his head down, and he lets out a laugh. Humorless, just cold.

“I don’t get her. She wants me, then the next second she doesn’t,”

When the boy lifts his head, it’s made obvious of all the pain he’s been hiding. His eyes, teary and sullen. Renjun couldn’t help but laugh at his friend’s face, clapping his hands and throwing his head back in laughter. “Aw, c’mon man! It’s only 12am,”

This, however, doesn’t humor Mark the same way. Seeing Haechan in pain was like a bullet through his heart. He gave the boy a pat on the back and watches as his head fall once again. Mark swears he saw a tear fall too.

“I’m not just an object you can set aside, then use when needed,” Haechan continues to wail. Although he was already drunk, Mark felt that Haechan’s words were the most sober when he wasn’t.

As for Mark, the literature major didn’t care much about alcohol. However, it did get his creative juices flowing. Most of Mark’s best written pieces were done when he couldn’t even remember writing them.

During blurry nights intoxicated in alcohol, Mark’s thoughts flow easily through him and onto the sheets of paper that lie around his room. Sometimes, he’ll drink on a school night to get an essay finished for it’s due date the next day.

But seeing as he had no pending things to write, Mark drank for the sake of trying to numb himself somehow. Although it didn’t work well when the person he’s trying to get his mind off of is sat right beside him, thinking of someone else.

Mark x Haechan – Always, I’ll Care

[COMING SOON]

[1:13 am]

When Jaemin and Jeno came back, Jeno was already carrying a guitar. He strums it softly to a random tune he came up with on the spot. Haechan, of course, was singing along. Throwing in words like ‘baby’ and murmuring a few words about love. By now, Renjun’s cheeks were pink and a few hiccups had already escaped him.

“Do you remember that girl Jeno dated second semester of senior year?” he says, out of the blue.

The boys need not ask who, as they all knew who Renjun was referring to. The group of boys burst into fits of laughter and the guitar takes an abrupt stop as its player shoots his friends a nasty look for bringing up his past unprovoked.

“You were smitten, bro,” Mark smacks Jeno’s shoulder as he giggles.

Jeno daggers his eyes to Renjun, who has his head thrown back, laughing.

“How about you, huh? What was her name? _____-“ Jeno begins his avengement by mentioning the name he knew would get back at Renjun. He gets cut off shortly.

“I’ll stop you right there, sir,” Renjun places a hand over Jeno’s mouth before he could speak the name.

“C’mon, how many years has that been though?” Jeno asks after getting the boy’s hand off of his mouth.

“Two, and what about it?” Renjun defensively counters, surprising the other boys.

“He knows! Wow, do you keep count?” Jaemin chuckles, amusement all over his face.

“Shut up, ____ ,” Renjun points a finger at the male, mentioning the name of Jaemin’s past lover. Jaemin’s jaw drops and he crosses his arms,

“That was low,” The corner of his lips tugged into a smile nonetheless.

“C’mon, guys. It’s not like we’re releasing bad omens talking about our exes,” Haechan tugs on Renjun to sit him back down.

“Easy for you to say, you’ve only had one ex and she’s your girlfriend,” Renjun huffs. No one dared to speak the name of Renjun’s ex around him aside from people who have balls like Jeno, Jaemin, Haechan and Mark.

It wasn’t because he was bitter about her. But try as he might, there was a feeling within him that says she’s the one. Or she was. And Renjun was stuck, thinking about all the what if’s. Even after 2 years.

Renjun x Reader – To Be So Lonely [COMING SOON]

“I see things are getting heated over here,” Jisung stood by the door to the balcony now, with a sly smirk on his face.

“Ah right, let’s talk about mister lover boy over here,” Jeno motioned to the younger boy, who surprisingly is the only one to have a love life at the moment.

Jisung was courting the student body president. He could not, however, get her to answer him, but the boy never gives up.

“You must have some balls to hit on your senior,” Jaemin comments. The student body president was in fact two years older than Jisung, but the boy was determined.

Jisung x Reader – Like A Fool

[COMING SOON]

“At least one of us is progressing in terms of love,” Renjun sighed.

“Jeno’s doing well though, isn’t he? Lots of girls always after him,” Jisung gestures to the male beside him who’d started playing the guitar once again.

“I don’t think that counts as doing well,” Jeno mutters, absentmindedly.

“Oh yeah? And how does having half the school pine over you not count as doing well?” Jaemin lightly nudges his friend.

“Because the one I love, is in someone else’s arms right now,”

And cue the exaggerated crying and wailing of his friends, who’d given him sympathetic pats on the back.

Jeno x Reader – We Find Love

[COMING SOON]

“Oh, man,” grumbled Haechan, clearly already very intoxicated. He placed his head between his hands to try and stop his world from spinning. “I got to go to her, I have to say sorry,”

The boys all averted their eyes to the boy who looks to be having his spiritual awakening.

Mark’s heart dropped upon hearing Haechan’s words. He looked down at his hands and sighed. It wouldn’t be the first time Haechan had a sudden realization and wanted to be in his girlfriend’s arms right then and there.

It usually happened when he was smashed drunk, after the 7th or 8th cup. Asking his mates to take him home and running into the arms of his girl.

Mark didn’t know why he wasn’t used to it at this point. It isn’t and never will be him.

“No way,” Jaemin tutted. “You gathered us all here to drink and bothered us for weeks then you’ll flake midway? I don’t think so,” The other boys agreed.

Renjun stretched his arms and fell back onto the chair he sat on. “What’s with the sudden change of atmosphere anyway? It’s like we did release bad omens when we spoke about our exes,”

“You just had to bring ____ up!” Jeno threw a fry at his friend, who was the first to mention his ex and start the discussion. Renjun caught the fry in his mouth, surprising the boys and himself.

“Let’s just drink up,” Renjun raises his glass in the air, although it’s half empty.

“Nice try, here have a refill. We’re all taking equal shots,” Mark had risen and was now reaching for the bottle of beer to pour his friend’s glass.

“To… I don’t know- fuck! To getting fucked up!” Haechan yelled, raising his glass in the air.

The rest of the boys do the same, clinking glasses together and downing it mercilessly to their livers.

Relationships come and go, but the dreamies are always here to stay.

[muwur]

snapchat headcanons

✧ hc’s ✧ for using snapchat w ur boi toi ft. the pretty setter squad

❧ gn reader

✎ 3.1k words

a/n: kinda a combo of how they use sc and the kinds of snaps they send you! along w wat u send them, and uh... dating stuf n shenanigans? texting/snapping habits? my fantasies? IDEK ANYMORE EOFHEFJ

this was born from the recesses of my mind , which desired nothing mor than snapchats from suga , us sending cute selfies , others bein dumb n chaotic , no context videos , n him snapping me photos of some mangoes on sale he said he’ll buy for me DXX it’s too late for me now

doing research on hq bois and surfing thru sc features (im just now realizing theres quite a bit?? im hoping i address most of them at some point lolol) instead of real life tings aHHhhhHAHA

requests: open! will be working on a suga one i got, dw, requester!

sugawara

✧ sends good morning and good night snaps

✧ so he’s rlly good at keeping streaks, probs has the longest ones (one of them being y’alls streak)

✧ posts tidbits of volleyball practice on his story every once in a while

✧ snaps you pics of his sleeping teammates when they’re coming back to school after a long day of matches , adding a single ‘❤️’ as a caption

✧ he will also create colorful masterpieces on all of them

✧ gives daichi a santa beard, tanaka a squiggly stache (i imagine it to look like spongebob n patrick’s seaweed ones now that were mEN), n kageyama sum angry brows,,, wait he already has them lolol u good der kags

✧ posts a picture of you when you’re hanging out, captioning it: “🥰“

✧ has conversations with you purely via snaps

✧ ranges from casual chats and checking up on u to crackwhoring ( ** indicates the photo, while the “” quotes indicate the caption, all snaps are italicized, otherwise its regular dialogue)

✧ suga: *peace sign* “hey sweetheart, how r u?”

✧ you: *pics of homework* “ahh, drowning in school ;-; i cant wait for this week to be over fghjkl”

✧ suga: *close up with :o on his face* “let’s study together tmrw!”

✧ or

✧ suga: *complete darkness* “its 3 am n i cant sleep”

✧ you: *the top half of your head, laying on a pillow* “ ;( aw babe. do u want me to send something to help u sleep?”

✧ suga: *still in darkness* “y u still up?? go sleep. n 🥺 yes pls”

✧ you: *snaps pics of feet* “that’ll be 50 bucks, pay up” 

✧ suga: *darkness remains* “can we make a trade instead? i promise to make it worth ;)”

✧ ok now u BOTH cant sleep (im sry my crackheading be acting up around 2am eeryday, i stan a mischievous suga--)

✧ video chats (in the darkness lol) instead until you both pass out (im not in luv u r 😭)

✧ super down to take filtered selfies w you

✧ does all the silly ones with you (things like ’angry face’ or the frog one)

✧ but also rlly digs lookin cute with you using some heart crowns, y’all an aesthetic (n crakhead) duo fosho

✧ def subscribes to life hacks and tries them out himself, has a 50% success rate

kageyama

✧ doesn’t rlly use snapchat too much

✧ but when he does

✧ will either send you a picture to indicate he’s at volleyball practice (wow wat a sexi lookin gym floor)

✧ or some random picture of whatever he’s doing at the moment (*drinking milk*)

✧ this is mostly in order to save streaks

✧ he’s so bad at streaks

✧ “why does it matter?? what’s the point of sending just black screens or whatever’s in front of you at the moment??”

✧ can’t keep a consistent streak for more than 3 days and also doesn’t care (until hinata challenges him to see who can have the longer one)

✧ when you send him videos of him playing, he really focuses on them to try to improve his technique. asks you to send those vids to him (assuming u saved them, which u did)

✧ but when you look over his shoulder when he’s watching a video and give him some compliment (“i recorded at the perfect moment! that was a really good set, kageyama!”), he gets a bit flustered

✧ gets even more flustered but pretty happy whenever you post videos on your story showing karasuno winning some points with captions like:

✧ “footage of the legendary quick >.>” or “karasuno crows flyin high!” or “these bois make my heart 😭 im so proud”

✧ you WILL catch him off guard in photos, using filters that surrounds his head w/ emojis like 🥺💖🥰💘

✧ you also put these on your story (to his dismay)

✧ ppl comment on these mor than anything else (n for those who dont rlly kno kageyama, theyre kinda surprised to him like this)

✧ hinata snickers “hey kageyama you look pretty good here--”

✧ takes some selfies with you, mostly cuz you want them

✧ saves them after u send them over (n secretly cherishes them)

✧ occasionally watches his subscriptions, they’ll usually involve sports, mostly volleyball (who woulda guessed)

✧ you use his bitmoji to test out random facial expressions you would never see him wear

✧ you: “can you smile and wink like this? act like you’re the obnoxious charming guy in a shojo.”

✧ will actually attempt, but it looks so bad that you die inside and he never wants to try again cuz of ur laughing outburst (you: “😭😭 bb im sorry i couldnt help it”)

oikawa

✧ literally sends you anything and everything

✧ morning bathroom selfie to show off how good his hair came out that day, saying:

✧ “he has risen”

✧ or “i woke up like this”

✧ and my favorite, “you’re lucky you get this content for frEE”

✧ selfies with iwa, who just looks annoyed and exasperated at the camera

✧ sends you pics of his lunch and snacks (“bet u wish u had milk bread too”)

✧ always packs extra milk bread so he could convince you to stay at his practice after school--

✧ FILTERSS

✧ I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENUF

✧ will either use the filters that make him kayooottt (cute)

✧ loves the ones named ‘hearts,’ ‘soft,’ ‘peach,’ ‘butterfly cheeks,’ vsco filters LOL, etc

✧ uses ‘big mouth’ when he feelin a bit sASSY; also loves to use this one when he rants, it channels his inner valley girl

✧ sometimes he’ll be snacking or drinking something while he does so (“hey guys today im gonna eat these milk buns from my favorite bakery and this bomb orange juice and complain about this little kid who talked smack to me earlier and almost made me cry--”)

✧ takes cute selfies with you, is an aesthetic selfie king, puts them on his story to show off he’s hangin with you

✧ but on your story you only post the ones he looks bad in LOL

✧ has separate stories for his every need, some r private (and lucky you, ur included in all of them)

✧ titles them ‘mean things iwa said to me today,’ ‘ranting hotbox + mukbangs,’ ‘a day in the life of oikawa,’ ‘volleyball 🏐,’ ‘unpopular opinions,’ etc. 

✧ fitting room photoshoots lol

✧ “y/n, what do you think of this??” “and this?” “oOH WHAT ABOUT THIS??”

✧ ends up calling you through video chat so you can live critique his choices

✧ “oikawa, please no, i can’t be seen with you in public if you wear those--”

✧ also changes his bitmoji’s outfits from time to time, hopes you’ll notice, but you don’t LOL (oikawa: ;((((((( )

kenma

✧ uses sc usually just to reply to messages ppl send him

✧ indifferent about streaks, but keeps a few with ppl he’s closer to

✧ mindlessly plays the snapchat games with you, finds some of them kinda cute

✧ you both made his bitmoji for him, dressing his up in the orange cat suit

✧ you also helped make kuroo’s and put his in the black cat suit to match--

✧ snaps you every time he gets a new game, starts playing it, and once he finishes

✧ started to post some gameplays and reviews on his sc story (might as well add them to sc since he was already on other social platforms), and ended up amassing a large following

✧ follows the tech and gaming stories on sc

✧ as well as the ones with cute animals--

✧ open to selfies with you, usually wears a calm expression and holds up a peace sign

✧ even occasionally sticks his tongue out

✧ his story is occasionally heavily bombarded with candids of him w/ pretty sc filters, all taken by you

✧ but of all the filters, you love using the clout glasses on him

✧ especially when he’s just minding his own business

✧ “kenma, in his tru habitat” when hes cocooned in a blanket

✧ “kenma, on his way to steal yo manz” while on his way to the bathroom

✧ “kenma, next iron chef. watch out gordon” as he’s cooking instant ramen

✧ “kenma” n das it

✧ but he thinks it meme-y so he lets you do whatever you want, kinda digs it

✧ you end up dedicating your snap story to memes of kenma and the nekoma volleyball team. ppl are in it for the shits n giggles n hot bois

✧ you later discover someone else did the same thing with their volleyball team filled with hot bois from shiratorizawa, and you befriend tendou and share funni internet tings

akaashi

✧ 99% of his photos include either you or bokuto or both

✧ bokuto spams akaashi’s story and contact list with selfies and videos of himself using weird filters, often gets you to join him

✧ has several streaks, but will send something with more substance than a black screen or his bedroom window

✧ will usually involve smthng that just happened to him or smthing he saw, like:

✧ “a kind older lady offered me some apples in return for helping her”

-or:

✧ “how do i break the news to bokuto that the yaikniku place he’s been wanting to go to for the past week ,,, is closed today”

✧ o n let’s not leave out:

✧ “is it possible to conjure a ghost using a wooden spatula, ketchup, and a chalk drawn hexagram? bokuto’s been paranoid ever since he tried last night and i dont know what to tell him. seriously, help”

✧ looks through stories occasionally, comments whenever bokuto makes questionable decisions

✧ also comments on whatever you’ve posted. his words range from “you’re cute” to “why,” depending on the content

✧ ppl know when y’all are hanging out cuz he’ll post smthing to indicate he’s with you, usually it’s some candid and you’re not paying attention

✧ appreciation posts for you as well! esp if you got him something, like onigiri or his fav, Nanohana no Karashiae , for lunch! (akaashi: *snaps a pic of his food* “thank you y/n for feeding me”)

✧ prefers video calling over texting/snapping whenever possible tho

✧ occasionally reminisces thru his sc memories

✧ enjoys the flashback feature and will send them to you and bokuto (cuz they’re about y’all anyway lolol)

✧ also has secretly saved a bunch of selfies of himself, consists of him trying out a lot of the filters (he feelin himself)

✧ you, one day, looking thru his phone and discovering them: “akaashi, you’re so pretty wtf”

✧ akaashi: “...”

koganegawa

✧ sends you selfies of him before practice

✧ during breaks

✧ and after practice, usually makes a comment about how it went for him that day like:

✧  “i hit a decent toss today and futakuchi actually complimented me!”

✧ that, or:

✧ “i got yelled at 17 times today 😢😩”

✧ has quite a few streaks, his longest ones being with you and hinata

✧ def uses filters

✧ tries out every funny one he finds and sends you videos

✧ “look y/n im an aaaaAALlliiEEENnnNNN oo oo hoo hhhooOOh”

✧ “now im a chicky nuggy!!” (chicken nugget)

✧ also enjoys the doodle feature

✧ but he uses the filter with the clout glasses unironically--

✧ usually when smth good happens to him and he feels happy and/or cool about it

✧ “just beat the boss in this game on my 69th try B)”

✧ “kogane, that’s--”

✧ plays sc games with you and thinks bitmojis r cool

✧ kinda sad he cant find a hair option that matches him tho lolol rip

✧ you: “you hair’s just,,, unique,,,”

✧ subscribed to anything sports and fitness, as well as pop culture so he can stay in the loop

✧ also watches everyone else’s stories, pointing out whenever he sees smthing cool and/or interesting

✧ “woahh, karasuno’s at nationals right now! i wish we could’ve won, but next year for sure!!”

✧ you encourage him at all his games, hyping him up irl and online

✧ “koganegawa: best setter 😍!!”

✧ luckily you didnt record the parts he completely messed up LOL

semi

✧ before going out with you, snaps you a pic of his casual outfit like:

✧ semi: “does this look ok”

✧ you: “babe you look great, tendou was just messing with you”

✧ will make unwanted appearances on tendou’s snap and complains to you about them

✧ “i didnt consent to being part of his meme page” and

✧ “okay, but he didn’t only have to share all the moments i messed up--”

✧ also indifferent about streaks but will do them

✧ sometimes sends snaps/streaks indicating he’s practicing his music

✧ when you see these you usually ask him to send you vids or if you can come over n watch

✧ initially is a bit shy about it but he loves what he does and you and knows you’re genuinely interested and supportive so he agrees

✧ secretly rlly enjoys having you as his personal audience

✧ lowkey into asmr, like the soap cutting shit as well as chewing crunchy things

✧ also watches food porn and clips of mukbangs, then can’t resist going on youtube and watching the whole thing

✧  “y/n, can we try this, it looks so good--”

✧ will also often watch oikawa’s stories, especially his ‘ranting hotbox + mukbangs,’ and makes comments about him being an idiot

✧  “this kid he’s talking about is a savage”

✧ but admits they’re quite entertaining

✧ just looks serious in all the selfies you take with him

✧ you: “can you look like you’re enjoying yourself?”

✧ semi: “i look cooler like this tho”

✧ sc memories filled with shenanigans from you and the volleyball team, doodles, and mirror selfies with him experimenting diff looks (you: “tendou, you got him way too concerned about this”)

✧ also enjoys showing off he’s with you, taking a short video of you when you hang out

✧ you: “semi, i look bad right now”

✧ semi: “but you can never look bad”

✧ you: “🥺 bb”

✧ viewers: “aw”

✧ shiratorizawa: “can he be this nice with us LOL”

shirabu

✧ his main mode of communication with you is mostly through the regular messaging app, so he doesn’t use sc too much

✧ also doesn’t care for streaks and is bad at keeping them

✧ will answer to you or his senpais rather soon tho

✧ but lets all his other notifications pile up a bit before finally going thru them

✧ goes through the snaps he receives really fast, spending like 2 seconds each to look at them cuz aint nobody got time for dat

✧ doesn’t even rlly open goshiki’s LOL

✧ you have fun using filters on him and taking videos while he’s just doing his own thing peacefully like studying

✧ it takes him a second to notice and when he finally looks up, he just gives you an exasperated look

✧ cue you cracking up with laughter bc the filter finally shows up on his face

✧ his eyes and mouth are now on mike wazowski

✧ that, or his face becomes so disturbingly moRPhed like an alien

✧ caption: “ken-chan, my future medical man 😍”

✧ “y/n, please, this is like the 7th time in the last 20 minutes--”

✧ finally convinced him to take a study break and hang out with you

✧ which usually consists of snacking and light banter while you lay your head on his lap

✧ and scrolling through snapchat stories and showing him what everyone else is up to and cool things you’re subscribed to

✧ “loooook, dr. miami’s doing another butt job! is this the line of work you’re studying so hard for?”

✧ “no, it’s really not”

✧ is actually very soft with you and likes having the photos and vids for memories

atsumu

✧ sends you snaps where his brother looks bad, captioning it:

✧ “this is evidence that im the hotter twin”

✧ likewise, osamu sends you snaps where atsumu looks even worse

✧ like, the mans passed out, looking rekt and open mouthed, drool seeping into his pillow

✧ osamu: “u still have time to break up with him”

✧ also lucky for you, atsumu also loves to take unflattering photos of you and send them to you randomly at like 2 am

✧ you: “nani tf when did you even take this??”

✧ usually posts a snap while he’s out somewhere like at a match, the gym, outside on a run, a party, or just hanging out with you or his frens

✧ however, makes sure you look good if you show up on his story cuz he wants to show you off

✧ doesn’t really care for streaks, but has a lott

✧ but also has a tON of unopened snaps

✧ is the type to send just a black screen n call it a day, or maybe spice it up by sending a pic of the sexi gym floor (a comeback) w his shoe in the corner

✧ will, however, consistently respond to you and kinda looks forward to ur snaps (secretly hopes you show ur face)

✧ but when you dont:

*in class*

✧ atsumu: *a smirk on his face* “your content’s kinda dry today” 

✧ you: *your sexi desk* “my nudez ain’t free, i demand compensation”

✧ atsumu: *grasped his chin in thought, but angled the cam up bc he needa hide his phone in class lolol* “what if i... take you out on a romantic excursion”

✧ you: * your face but with ‘sausage’ filter* “🥵🥵🥵🥵 yessir, what u want”

✧ rlly only wants to have pics of your face wat a closeted sOFTIE

✧ likes to have content on his flashbacks

✧ usually has other social media sources to keep up to date with things

✧ actually rlly digs using sc filters, mostly ones that’ll make him look like a queen

✧ captions a selfie of you two like: “me >>>>>>> y/n”

✧ but nearly everyone who comments on it is like: “i think you flipped the sign, bro 🤥”

✧ judges ppl who are into soap cutting asmr (you will never hear the end of it if you also like it)

a/n: sc kinda dying for me, my use went from suga to an atsumu to like nearly nonexistent LOL

also o gawd i already have ideas here n there for a pt 2 so stay tuned fjxnwfesd hope it takes me less long cuz this one took me fkin foreva LOL

idk y i made semi like mukbangs but i feel like he’d be rlly into them--

[oh-for-fic-sake]

Day At The Races

You find yourself competing with Bruce on the track.

Masterlist 

Warnings: Innuendo's, Swearing

A/n have some fluff, hope you enjoyxx

(Not my gif)

Day At The Races

Taglist @125bluemachine125

You took a deep breath as Bruce parked the car in the school parking lot there was tonnes of people walking around all making there way to the field where the days festivities were being held. You leaned back looking at him smiling lightly

"Sweets its fine there isn't any press here its families only." he pulled up a hand placing a kiss to it then your wrist and arm tugging you close trailing kisses along your arm until he placed a kiss on your cheek making you giggle when he nuzzled you rubbing his light scruff on your cheek.

"Hey no beard burn!"

"First time I've heard that seriously tho today will be fine"

"I know but its the first time we've been out since going public.... people are going to watch and judge especially after the other articles..." he sighed running his thumb across your hand he understood he really did the media had blown up about your relationship as expected but some had gone beyond, many had nice things to say but a few had been critical saying that you was the billionaires answer to a midlife crisis and that you'd be out of the picture, soon enough others followed making articles base solely around your age gap calling you a gold digger a whore without saying the word Bruce as promised had his legal team taking them to court on your behalf for slander. Hell one had made you cry as it was so nasty saying vile things interviews with 'child hood friends' who you hadn't even remembered crawled out of the wood work fabricating stories of raunchy sexual escapades and such claiming you was a high paid 'anything goes' escort and that's how you really met Bruce, it had made him so angry he didn't even bother to go to court he bought the magazine outright and stopped the printing sacking half of the company as well as the ceo and editorial managers. 

"Just remember I'm with you. I love you and I've got your back we're a team sweets"

"I love you to" you both leaned in kissing each other you got butterflies in your chest as you both pulled away exiting the car you walked around to bruce he took your hand in his locking the car and led you down towards You eyed the people around you, they were watching you judging you. some scoffed you hear whispers from some people about what you were waering, you looked down you didnt think you looked bad. Bruce like you in these leggings well by the way he had pounced on you when you slid them on grabbing and squeezing your ass in them you assumed he had, they were a false matte black leather look you top was a baggy plain whit on the front on the back was a big patch of a cat saying dont be a pussy... probably not the best choice but you felt cute.

You noticed others women eyeing Bruce it was rare for him to be seen out not in a suit or some variation of it ,receiving looks from many of the mothers and older sisters of the students. Not that you could blame them he was in a tight fit black tee and tasteful dark sweats he had come dressed for the dreaded parents race...You never were one for a man in sweats but damn if he didn't look mouthwatering.. if only they were a tad lower, he caught you looking smirking at you then lifted a thumb to the corner of your mouth.

"Your drooling there sweets hold still." you slapped his hand away 

"I was not!" he laughed using the opportunity to grasp your offending hand kissing your palm before holding it tight walking to the desk informing them of your arrival as bruce signed you both in you saw many women glaring at you. You pulled back a little from him he noticed giving your hand a squeeze then moved to hold your hip pulling you to walk beside him.

"Ignore them they are just jealous.... an ass like yours would cost them a lot of money." you squeaked as he pinched your bottom.... he seemed obsessed with it today, you was tankful as his antics were taking your mind off of the glances you was receiving.Bruce quickly navigated the crowds with you arriving at the booths made for parents to sign up to participate in some events he grabed a pen and began filling in for the parents races. Each pupil had a number the parents would get a corresponding number to pin to themselves for the race gaining points for their children adding to their total's helping them to win prizes. He passed the pen to you once filling everything in, you bit your lip writing down your name for the mothers race for Jack freezing you hovered the pen above damien's name bruce smiled leaning down he kissed your ear lightly before speaking quietly in your ear so close you could feel his breath.

"You'd run for him?" you nodded still debating if it was a good idea, it was your first semi public apperance you didnt want to rock the boat. 

"Yes... I want to but....It could cause an uproar people could make assumptions." he stood behind you still holding your hip in one hand the other coverd your hand holding the pen making a tick mark beside his sons name kissing the back of your neck.

"Fuck them you want to run the mothers race for my son do it... and I'll run the dads for Jack."he said letting you put down your name before taking back the pen doing the same for jack.

"and I hope to meet you in the winners race."

"Something tells me you'd throw it just to see my ass" he grunted at you

"Nope I always win these things I wouldn't throw them for anything and besides I don't have to throw a race to look at it, I'll look at it when I damn well please, as is my right" you chuckled at him shaking your head

"What ever you say boss man" before being interupted by someone clearing there throat. You both turned to see a barbie who had obviously rearranged herself pulling the tops of her expensive tits out of the yoga top hanging out obscenely trying to gain his attention. You rolled your eyes as a blonde came up behind you both a sultry look fluttering her eyelashes at your man.

"Can I please?" she said motioning to the pen in Bruce's hand her eye scanning him from head to toe licking his lips. He smiled politely handing it to her you scowled at her.

"Of course come on love" he said leading you away you looked down a little. 

"Dont let it get to you sweets. They will try, they will always try love"

"I know dosent mean I have to like it tho....Its just hard and I'm trying to behave for your sake. I cant exactly call her out and smack the shit out of her" he grunted twitching in his sweats rearranging himself 

"Not if you don't want to be caught being railed on the field no"

"Bruce! are you always thinking about sex? seriously were in a school"

you shouted laughing pushing him lightly as he laughed pulling you back ton him placing you in front as he walked resting his chin on your shoulder whispering huskily into your ear.

"Well this is where me met.... its on my list"

"No!. Do not even go there with your stupid fucking list"

"Don't knock the list...You could have one if you want...I'm sure we could find a way to sneak away for five minutes or so, we could try Mr Kolemans office"

"Oh? and when do you ever finish in five minutes?" he shrugged sending you cheeky look

"Just because I haven't doesn't mean I cant" you shook you head rolling your eyes at him. You quickly noticed the blond from earlier was sticking close the the both of you, Bruce had noticed but kept quiet ignoring her as you made your way across to the boys events. You grunted as she tailed you all the way down the field even as you both sat on the grass you sat between Bruce's legs he pulled you close making a point to touch and hold you. She was always trying to be in sight of Bruce twirling her hair and fluttering her eyes at one point bending over in front of him wiggling her boney ass. You seethed knowing what she was doing but unable say anything.

"You know...You could say something...I really wouldn't mind..Quite the opposite I would enjoy having you get all territorial just a quick snap? growl? anything?" you rolled your eyes as he began grinding against you making sure you felt just how much he would enjoy it

"Bruce behave youself!!"you slapped his thigh making him grunt and hiss leaning forward capturing your ear between his teeth suckling your lobe

"Go oonn you know you want to, do it for me?" he continued kissing down your neck you flushed as she scoffed as Bruce sucked a new mark onto your neck. You would not start a cat fight over Bruce, not that you didn't want to fight for him just that you didn't need to. He was yours. But it didn't mean you wasn't self conscious as the slim woman tried to gain his attention. Tho he made himself quite clear with his little display just who it was he desired. You shook your head trying to rise above her pettiness. Spotting the boys you waved then pointed them out to Bruce who was now satisfied with his fresh mark pulled away with a soft kiss. Jack and Damien sat across from you, Jack waved back then nudged Damien who smiled nodding to you. First was the throwing events then we moved to the jumps. 

"Whats Damien doing?"

"He is doing high jump he is band from long jump."

"What? why?"

"He... clears the sand.... by quite a bit so he cant do it now, the others cant compete with him"

"That doesn't sound fair being banned for being good at it" he sighed.

"And he was holding back"

"Wow so he's and agile little bugger then"

"Heh you have no idea" you both watched the kids participate in their events moving across the field. Throughout the day you saw a pattern Damien was top across the board. In every single event he did. The boy didn't even break a sweat as he was leaving all of the others in the dust, you got the distinct feeling he was holding back. Especially as you saw Bruce motion for him to slow down.

"Bruce what the fuck! your sons a beast how the fuck can he do that im pretty sure he just broke a world record?" you cried as he won the hurdles a good 50 seconds before Jack came in second place. you pulled out your phone to do a google search on hurdle world records Bruce sighed running a hand across the back of his neck.

"...Well he likes fitness and sports I may have updated the manor's gym for him" you snapped your head to him.

"Hang on whoa a gym? where the hell have you hid a gym?" he faltered which was unlike him before quickly snapping out of it stuttering.

"Err well it's-its at the back in the old part,its not fully finished I don't want you going in there it has potentially dangerous equipment in there, professional stuff you need to be taught how to use them." you nodded unconvinced before hearing an anouncement.

"All parents participating in the parental race please come and collect your numbers" Bruce stood helping you up. You both walked to the table collecting the numbers 345 jack 352 for Damien pinning them to your tee shirts ,the fathers race was first you pulled Bruce in for a sweet kiss which he promptly tried deepening wrapping himself aroung you you giggle pulling back as he moved to kiss down your neck, you glowed red as the other parents watch out right some of the women were scoffing. You cupped his face.

"Good luck babe kick ass" he smiled kissing your lips again

"You to" he said before taking position on the start line you was awestruck as you watched him dominate the race, what ever Bruce had said about Damien in the gym was bullshit, it was genetics, pure dna it had to be as Bruce quickly made his way out front and stayed there he was miles away from the others you cheered as he made it across the finish line. Smiled Standing tall as the other runners crouched over panting some heaving there faces purple. You took your place on the starting line noting that blondy was in the line up doing some bullshit yoga stretches drawing attention to herself, although you was on the larger side than  the other women you was confident. In school you had been on the track team, not only that this was Gotham being able to run was a survival skill that most of these women didn't need to master in their gilded castles. You crouched looking down the track taking a slow breath flexing the muscles in your legs warming them with extra blood flow as the others got in position. The teacher counted down and you were off you stayed near the back pacing yourself letting the others wear themselves out before going in for the win, as predicted the others all took off in a full sprint loosing steam quickly. Half way down the track you took it up a notch sprinting slowly building up to full speed passing the women one by one hearing the curses and gasps as you took the lead even then you pushed on breaking away further and further finally crossing the finish line Bruce high fived you.

"Where the hell did that come from?"

"Track team, you never start with sprinting." he shook his head now the top three of each would race one another you noticed with glee that blondy hadn't made it through, she maybe skinny but you were fitter and you couldn't help being smug. You all lined up looking to Bruce you don't care about beat the others just him but you had no hope in winning against him outright so would have to try some underhanded tactics smiling slyly.

"Hey babe?" you bent over a little wiggling your ass he glanced at you wetting his lips eyeing your bent over form as the teacher to position starting to count down. 

"Yeah"

"Is it obvious I'm not wearing anything underneath these?" you said pulling on your leggings he gasped standing up quickly turning to look at your ass.

"You what?!" you laughed running as the race began Bruce missing the call swore quickly following a few seconds you as you took a healthy lead the others now tired from the previous race, you glanced behind you seeing him quickly gaining on you, not even in his lane he'd merged into yours and he looked determined but his eyes were glued to you ass,

"Just you wait!" he shouted out to you squealing you pushed harder trying to stay ahead of him laughing unable to stop yourself from tucking your ass below you as you heard his heavy steps just behind you fully expecting him to grab you.

"No! Bruce! I'm sorry!" you shouted as he was practically on top of you as you crossed the finish line

"Sorry?! you get your ass here!!" but you didn't stop dodging him for a few more moments, in that moment you didn't care about the damn race you screamed as he finally caught you around the waist lifting you up crushing you against him.

"That was really a really dirty trick woman" he said you laughed he placed you down in front him your back to him then smoothed his hands across your ass raking his fingers up and down before giving you a quick spank you flushed knowing full well no matter how discreet he was trying to be someone was bound to have seen that.

"You little tease!" he growled once he felt the the seam of your underwear he moved hugging you from behind pulling you back grinding into your ass lightly. 

"Just you wait until I get you to the car" you mewled at the threat rubbing back against him feeling his significant bulge pressing insistently at your ass 

"Is that a promise Mr Wayne?" he groaned into your neck. Turning you saw that you had indeed come first gaining both boys extra points.

"Ha I won!!" you laughed

"Yes you won, but at what cost?" you froze turning to look at him wide eyed 

"Cost? what do you mean cost? Bruce?" he just laughed pulling away from you as he waved over at the boys both of them shrinking into their shoulders at the public display you'd given everyone. He walked over to the table to hand in his numbers you followed at a safe distance

"Bruce? What cost? hey! don't ignore me!" He did tho chuckling to himself deciding to let your mind dwell on what could be in store for you. 

[redxblueihateloveyou]

This is a personal opinion but from where I see it the Given movie and the anime itself definitely was... something that I would question because somethings just.. didn't make sense to me. The development of the Characters were either super fast or super slow and it made the pacing really really weird for me idk. But I do think that a huge reason so many people love the Given movie is because of the fact that when you compare Given to OTHER JP BL animes, there's very very slight improvement in terms of the story itself of Given. Is the story poorly executed? Fucking hell, who the hell is going to say no here. But is it better then some of the JP BLs out there? That's depended on how you view BL to be. For a lot of people things like Super Lovers or Hitorijime My Hero are super unbearable to watch because it's "problematic" (which honestly okay, you do you BB) which then leads them to look for BL animes that DON'T have such "themes." Leading them to actually liking things poorly executed but just "not problematic", Given for example.

Given is “not problematic”? Debatable.

Their first kiss was right after Mafuyu finally had a courage to sing a song about his ex who commited a suicide. ???

Problematic doesn’t only mean stuff like “he’s underage”. What about using someone to get over your grief or getting into a relationship with someone who is still not over his ex death and is vulnerable at the moment? Is this suddenly “not problematic” bc they’re same age and he haven’t pushed him into a wall in throws of passion?

To me it’s not even about the fact if it’s problematic or not (it’s rarely not tho, no matter what ppl think), it’s about whether its believable and feels genuine or not. It depends on many factors: situation, characters past, traumas, etc, etc. It depends on the story and how you write it.

Change some stuff and it’s gonna be a completely different thing. Make it like Uenoyama only hugged Mafuyu after the song, even tho he wanted to kiss him, but knows that it’s not the right moment. Make Mafuyu heal first, make Uenoyama be in his own angst that he loves Mafuyu so much for example, but cares about him recover more, so he doesn’t expect for it to go somewhere, then he tries to date someone and Mafuyu first starts getting out there, when he feels like he can start trying again. Someday he gets sick and Uenoyama cancels his date to take care of him even tho it’s nothing serious and then the realization comes. Make Mafuyu kiss him first and take the first step. This would’ve changed everything so much. He should’ve made the first step when he was ready, this would’ve felt so right. Uenoyama kissing him after that song is just.. it feels, I was like ehhhmmm.. weird?

Seeing someone saying that Given is a masterpiece is hilarious to me. The fact that it includes heavy themes like suicide, doesn’t make it a masterpiece, esp when it’s handled this badly. Once again, if you pick such thing as a base for a love story, do it right then, not in a “bibbidi bobbidi boo” kind of thing. 

BL or not BL, any relationships, it depends on whether you watch it and it feels plausable or not. 

For example, if Yuu says that he can’t live with Mika, my tongue won’t even twist to call it “unhealthy” or be like “dude why”. But if some high schooler in slice of life anime who has a caring family tried to end himself bc his two weeks friend left him, I would’ve yelled “bitch go see a doctor”. 

Depending on the story you can sell some feelings or not.

Nezumi and Shion are also problematic according to ppl’s logic these days. But I 100% believe they’re each other’s true loves. Only 11 episodes and it’s sold.

In Given I didn’t believe it. Bc it’s ridiculous, ok? It wasn’t the right place or time to start this relationship. It is not a new love story, it’s just a sad story. 

Given movie is slightly better compared to other japanese BL? Why would you offend Sekaiichi Hatsukoi, Uragiri wa boku no namae, No.6 and many others?

Also better where? They kept the same old “’stop, i don’t want to’, but he did it anyway” stuff AND on top of that the story sucks.

The way he used him knowing very well that he was unrequitedly in love with him for so long is so disgusting that it leaves a much grosser feeling than many yaois combined. You’re saying “it’s slightly better” bc they’re of age or don’t have an age difference? I don’t get it. It somehow makes everything better?

No, thanks. I’d rather watch Onodera sleep with Takano in high school with them being genuinely into each other and it going great than whatever happened in the Given movie. I don’t care if they’re both 18 there, it made me feel bad.

I didn’t feel bad, when Wei Wuxian thought “why the fuck didn't I have sex with Lan Zhan back when I was 15? I've really pissed away all my days, haven't I?”. I wonder why is that.

Like what you’re saying here is that their opinion on BL is so low that they automatically would give it 10 out of 10 bc it’s slightly better than smth that they find “unbearable” to watch? What kind of evaluation is that exactly? Maybe also let’s compare each anime to “boku no pico”, then everything will look like a masterpiece.

Like excuse me for the fact that when I watch some shonen-ai and yaoi, I judge it the same way I judge any other genre and any other relationships (hetero or gay) in animes. On a scale whether I care or don’t care, whether I believe that they love each other or don’t, whether it’s a good story or not. I don’t get what it means “it’s good for yaoi”. It’s just not good. This movie is trash, I mean, the relationship in it is trash. Who the fuck cares gay or not gay. Trash relationships are trash. Bad story is a bad story. Whether it’s a bad gay story or a bad hetero story, I don’t give a shit.

The reason I’m more into boy on boy ships is because I love the relationships there more than relationships in most heterosexual couples. My fav hetero ships are either “from hate/attraction to love” stories like “gone with the wind”, “anastasia” or “pride and prejudice” or stuff like “equals without pink goo, who only see each other and don’t need no one else and would die for each other, epic soulmates” like Richard and Kahlan. In anime 99% of those fit bromances, not romances. Like I don’t find Midoriya/Uraraka appealing at all for a reason that “she said ‘hi’, he blushed as a tomato, now they’re supposed to be each other’s romantic interests” is not what I find romantic. I find romantic the fact that Todoroki is forever devoted to Midoriya bc he knows he’s amazing and is not afraid to say it; and he’ll always be there for him when he needs him, no matter what it is, him just sitting there crying, some villain trying to kill him or if he’s too late out ther grossery shopping. Uraraka most of the times doesn’t even care where he is.

Most hetero romantic animes, I just find ridiculous, too cheesy and unrealistic and I’m not ready to watch 50 episodes for them to hold hands. I’m not in that age and I also never found things like this romantic before either. Stuff like Kisa/Yukine, when you meet someone, find him attractive, wanna fuck him, then fall in love accidentally.. yeah, that’s understandable to me. Stuff like Takano/Onodera “I was an naive idiot in high school, but now life made me a sassy bitch and I can’t open up to people as easily” also yes, relatable. 

When you’re turning into a tomato bc someone said “penis” and think holding hands will take your virginity or smth, that’s not my thing.

So when I watch BL, I expect more, not less. So if it’s bad, I just say it’s bad, I’m not gonna be like “hmm... unproblematic... then 10/10″ like what? 

1stly, even “little mermaid” and “cinderella” are problematic. 

2ndly everyone is so focused on purity these days, like storyline don’t matter at all. It’s like any great love story is automatically trash if they have age difference. Any trash love story is great, if they don’t?

Let’s then also rate “Dororo” as 1, bc it’s like 24 episodes of them falling for each other while she’s 11 and he’s 16. Wow, such gross relationships they have during the whole story. Doesn’t matter that she grew up at the end of the last episode, the whole anime she’s a child. And let’s rate Noragami 0, bc 2000 years old perverted Yato is into 15 year olds.

No one has to fuck asap (heck even in the same hella problematic “Super Lovers” you talk about, Haru refused to fuck Ren even tho he was 17 in s2 and wanted to fuck another guy) and the rule “you can only fall in love after 18″ doesn’t exist. Also underage is not BL thing, it’s all anime thing. It’s time to shut it already. There are zillions of age gap couples out there who are great. Hyakkimaru waited for Dororo to grow up, it’s fine, seriously, they love each other in the right way, he didn’t want to fuck her when she was 11, okay? They did love each other tho already then. Pls excuse them for that.

3rdly, some relationship that ppl here call unproblematic are 20 times more problematic, than what they call problematic.

4tly, why the heck it’s like couples who have an amazing character and relationship progression, who love each other to death and will do anything for each other, ppl go: “wow, at the very beginning, he grabbed his wrist, he needs to go to jail”. Meanwhile a relationship who has no base, no story, no logical progression, no anything are “yes, best love story in the world”. Yeah... who cares if it feels like it’s all been pulled out of an ass and doesn’t make sense, very healthy tho.

It sounds lately like if most ppl here had two stories in front of them and one would be about two men who just met and the next day one proposed and they lived happily ever after and 2nd would be some complicated incredible story with a natural progression of the relationship, but they yelled at each other once, they’d be like “1st is better”. Well, not to me, no.

[marauder-exe]

AU list!

hi! These are a bunch of Au’s that i could write,and you could request! (reposting because it didnt work the first time)

General

Fake dating (My personal favourite)

Soulmates

Coffee shop

Modern Royalty

Rockstar

Running From The Police

Rebel Against The Goverment

High School

University

Law school

Delayed-Flights-And-Were-Stuck-In-The-Airport-And-Its-Like-2Am

Roommates

Road Trip

Arranged Marriage

Im-Arranged-To-Marry-Your-Brother-But-Were-In-Love

Amnesia

Tattoo-Artist-And-Coffee-Shop-Worker

Loved-Since-Childhood

Professor-Student (of age)

Met-On-Holiday

More detailed

21.You were singing/playing guitar/etc. in the park to protest the war and a policeman tried to dismiss you for 'disturbing the peace' but you argued that you were promoting peace and things got heated and next thing you know you're being arrested for assaulting an officer. You intrigue me, so I'm here to bail you out and maybe take you on a date?

22.the nice one who everybody loves with the grumpy and strict one that the students hate and the students wonder?????????how what the fuck

23.we just had a one-night stand but a massive storm hit so now we’re snowed in, hello awkward

24. i sit at the rental booth at our local ice rink and watch you teach children how to skate

25. alternatively, i watch kids teach you how to skate because you’re a terrible skater

26. i’m running late to an important interview/meeting and you accidentally spill your hot cocoa all over my outfit

27. you’re my hot ski instructor and i’m failing the bunny hill

28. i slip on some ice and you’re the stranger who catches me

29.  i gave my winter coat to a homeless person and come into your store to warm up

30. our friends rent a cabin to go skiing and we’re the only ones who stay inside

31. you’re the asshole of our group and we don’t get along, but then i find out you make soup for the local shelter

32.we’re waiting in line for the club when you complain that your roommate stole your gloves so let me warm your hands up with mine

33.my family invites you to join our holiday meal as an obvious setup and i’m so sorry

34.the power goes out in our apartment building, but i’m not prepared for this, and you come to check on me

35.i’m having a snowball fight with my friend in the park and i hit you instead

36.a storm is delaying our flight home and i’m afraid of thunder, please talk to me while we wait

37. we’re both in small claims court and i got into a huge fight with the person suing me but you stepped in to hold me back before security got there

38. i drove two hours to the closest video rental store that’s still operating and you were checking out the only copy of the movie i was after

39. i hit you with my car but luckily you’re okay, but we should still exchange information i guess

40. i was worried about buying something off of someone creepy from craigslist but oh no you’re hot

41. my friend talked me into playing a drunken game of spin the bottle even though we’re all adults and now we have to make out

42. we both decided to take a [yoga/fencing/cooking etc] class and we’re the only two assholes not taking it seriously and everyone else is giving us dirty looks but we keep grinning over at each other

43. my date just made a scene in public and got arrested and now i’m stranded in a city without a ride home

44. sharing a cab together

45. you’re trying to get me to sign a petition and i have no idea what you’re talking about

46. you’re drunk at this festival and dancing on the table and when you eventually fell i caught you

47. we both play this stupid game online and you keep beating me every single goddamn time so i called you out and you are pretty cute but can you not

48. im a bartender and you just came in here without shoes sat down and ordered a chocolate volcano and idk what the fuck that is and im scared to ask

49. we are neighbours and every night at 3:14 am you start yodeling for no fucking reason??? why???? is that you yodeling??? its been 2 months???

50.im a pizza delivery person and i just delivered a pizza to someone in the middle of a satanic ritual and they gave me their number???

51. i woke up this morning to find you sitting in my living room with a goat in a poncho??? who are you??? why is the goat wearing a poncho??? how did you get the goat in here i live on the 12th floor???

52. we work out at the same gym and you always look super legit but i know you sing hannah montana in the shower and you know i know

53. im a cashier and i saw you stuffing you pants full of potatoes and i would stop you but you already have 27 and i want to see how many you can fit

54. its 4 am and im drunk as fuck in a mcdonalds and you have been watching my trying to eat this burger for 30 minutes

55. i was playing beer pong with a coin and i accidentally threw it right into your eye at a party

56. i’m at the beach and some kids thought it was funny to bury me in the sand when i dozed off can you please dig me out

57. it’s unbearably hot and we’re both fighting over the last handheld electrical fan at the shop at the amusement park

58. hey i just met you, and this is crazy, but i get sunburned really easily so can you please help me put sunscreen on my back?

59. thunderstorm after a menacing heatwave and we’re both getting weird looks for dancing in the rain

60.i have no idea who you are but you just fainted right in front of me holy shit dude you need to drink more in this heat

61. we both chased after the leaving ice cream van like ten-year-olds and now we’re both out of breath and a bit embarrassed

62.i clearly reserved this deck chair by putting a towel on it why on earth are you lying on it who the fuck do you think you are

63. My friends bet I wouldn’t buy these three weird and questionable items and you’re my cashier.

64.Once a week I go visit the pet store just to stare at the cute kittens and puppies and you’re the nice employee who always lets me hold them and wait I think I’m going to cry hold on.

65.You’re the DJ of the University’s radio station and every time you give an opinion on a current event I have to call and argue with you because could you seriously be anymore wrong?

66.We both wait tables at the same restaurant and you’re always mad at me by the end of the night because I make more in tips

67.We have the same class and once a week you wear this graphic shirt I don’t understand and I really want to ask you about it.

68.We both work at the same craft store that literally has no customers so we have nothing to do and I’m always reading at the register but you always have to criticize my book choice what the hell?

69.I’m working the concession stand for this week’s home game and this is the fifth time you’ve come back for snacks wait are you flirting with me?

70. we’re at a bookstore and you and I seem to have similar taste in books have you read this one? How about this one?

71. you look like you need help and I’m a professional roller/ice skater but I don’t want you to feel bad about how much you suck but wow you suck

72. You ordered your food before me and they gave you a drink you didn’t want so you gave it to me

73. We’re sitting at adjacent computers in the library and I’m taking extra care not to look at your screen out of respect but what the fuck do you keep laughing at

74. as a joke I yelled out “happy birthday to someone!” in this store and you called back “thank you!” who are you

75. You heard me talking about a TV show in class the other day and now you’re passionately yelling at me about how good it is we’ve never actually spoken before

76. It’s 10:30 at night and I left my glasses at home so I can’t read any of these labels and you’re one of the only people in the grocery store and GODDAMMIT DO YOU HAVE ANY TOMATO SAUCE WITHOUT CHUNKS

77. We go to the same support group; I have social anxiety and you’re a kleptomaniac who sorta stole my heart

78. You thought you were alone at the bus stop so early in the morning so you started passionately singing Fall Out Boy but your Patrick Stump impression could use some work and I’m not really afraid to point that out

79. I’m an artist and you have a really nice face so would you mind if I drew you?

80. We’re rival up-and-coming singers and every time one of us releases a new single the other does a cover to try to make it better; we’re always trying to top each other and out-cute each other, but half our fans aggressively ship us; our agents use this to their advantage and decide we should do a duet because it’ll be popular; unfortunately now that we’re in the same studio and I’ve seen what you’re like I really wanna know what your lips feel like

81.PLEASE I REALLY CANNOT FIND MY CAT AND I KNOW IT’S THREE A.M. BUT NEIL CATRICK HARRIS AND I WOULD BOTH APPRECIATE THE HELP

82. We were both stood up for dates at the same nice restaurant so we decide to eat together and split the check but I dunno you’re pretty interesting aside from your distractingly enormous eyebrows

83. We met at a mutual friend’s cheesy masquerade party and we agree that the only good thing about this party is the masks so you can’t judge a book by its cover only now that we’ve been talking I want to see your face but I don’t know how to ask

84. You used to date my friend who absolutely hates your guts after a messy breakup and now you’re flirting with me and I really shouldn’t be so interested in you but I am

85.We pass each other every day while we’re biking on the same path so we’ve started smiling at each other and one day you’re stopped because you’re having an asthma attack so I offer you my extra water bottle and now we’re talking and now I’M the one who’s breathless

86.I lost my little sibling in IKEA and I need your help finding them

87.I'm a private detective hired to follow you, but you're endearingly boring and mostly I just like watching you and oops, I sort of find you adorable.

88. You've been sketching me for half an hour now, and just shuffled up to hand me the finished product and it's TERRIBLE but you just wanted an excuse to talk to me.

89.  I'm at an art exhibit and I just badmouthed the art, because I don't get it, okay? And it turns out you're the artist. I'm so sorry, maybe I could get you coffee and you could explain what it was supposed to be?

90. We're the only two people who turned up to an underground gig and it should be awkward, but the band is amazing and you asked me to dance and hey, there's nobody watching but us.

91.  You live in the apartment next to me. We're not supposed to have pets, but I KNOW you have a cat. I'll make you a deal, I won't tell, if you let me pet it.

92.  I punched you because I thought you were insulting my friend, but it turns out you know each other and it was an inside joke and I'm so sorry, let me drive you to the hospital?

93. We both wanted to rent a bike for an hour but the only one they have is a tandem bike

94. I’m on a terrible date and you’re my waitor please help me

95.Our dick landlord just evicted us both

96.I’m your neighbor and I can hear you fucking someone who  shares my name

97. You’re sort of famous and we vaguely know each other through bumping into each other all the time but the media thinks we’re dating

98. Your roommate cheated on me and I just threw your laptop out the window thinking it was his

99. It’s 2am on the night of my 21st birthday and we gotta fix this fucking mess by morning or else we’re fucked

100.Fuck you and your bee farm I’ve had enough

Feel free to use any of these as your own! If you wanna request you could drop an inbox saying ‘ could you do ____ AU with this character’!

[angst-fairygodmother]

Omg I've been binge reading all your Klaus fics and can I just say you are an AMAZING writer and I'd straight up buy your novel in a heartbeat if you write one. The way you use words and make me feel things, I can't even! ❤️ I saw your requests are open so I wanna request a Klaus fic where the reader takes care of him after he comes home all messed up.. like runs him a bath, gives him a haircut, cooks him food and puts him to bed...You can make it NSFW too in the end, I surely won't complain ;)

A/N: Listen, I think like 25-50% of why I love Klaus is the mere concept of caring for him when he needs it, so this was an excellent prompt. Thank you so much! (I hope you enjoy it even though it didn’t end up getting NSFW) Word Count: 2197 Content Warning: T - withdrawal, references to drug use

You weren’t really paying attention to the familiar hallway of your apartment building, too busy juggling groceries in the struggle to find the right key. You had lived in this building for three and a half years now, it wasn’t like you needed to look where you were going, instinct guiding up the stairs and along to your own front door. Which is why when a figure lurched out of the shadows, stumbling toward you, you were completely unprepared. You screamed, dropping both your keyring and the bags of groceries on your arms as you threw your hands up in defense. The back of your mind registered the sound of something cracking, probably your eggs as they hit the tile floor. The rest of you was focused on the hundred and twenty or so pounds of human body crashing into you. You felt the fuzz of ragged fur and well-worn leather beneath your fingers as you tried to steady the both of you.

Finally you registered the sweaty, washed-out face.

“Klaus?” you asked, recognizing your neighbor.

He had only moved into your building a few months ago, but you two had quickly become friends, chatting – okay maybe you, at least, were flirting but it’s not like it was going to go anywhere, not really – in the mailroom or when you passed each other coming and going. A few times, you had invited him over for dinner or he had talked you into spending more hours than any human reasonably should watching movies, stretched out together on his couch. But you had never seen him like this.

“Oh hey, Y/N,” he trilled, trying to act normally even as he swayed again and you reached out to brace him. “Don’t mean to be a bother, but I’m…not doing so hot and I didn’t know where else to go.”

You frowned in concern and ushered him inside, only belatedly remembering your groceries and going back for them after you had guided him to a seat in your living room.

“What’s wrong?” you asked as you began to put things away and waited for him to settle. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like you just got dragged through hell and then spat back out the other side.”

He chuckled, more of a defeated escape of air than an actual laugh. “I feel like it too.”

You frowned at the eggs, completely ruined. The carton of orange juice was dented and wouldn’t sit right on the shelf but it was whole. Tomatoes: bruised, blueberries: free range in the grocery bag. Klaus didn’t seem inclined to say anything more, not that he had really said anything yet, anything of substance.

“You said you didn’t know where else to go?” you prompted, trying a different angle.

“I haven’t had anything in days,” he explained vaguely before doubling over to press his head between his knees. “Christ I feel like shit,” he groaned.

Something about the way he said it registered in your mind enough for you to figure out what was going on.

“Withdrawal?” you asked simply, moving to sit on the couch, turning your body into the arm of it so you could face him.

He nodded, looking up at you with red-rimmed eyes.

“So why come to me? I don’t…I mean I can’t help you get a fix.”

“I know. I didn’t think you could. I just didn’t want to be alone.”

“Okay. Do you need anything? Is there any way I can help?”

He shrugged, shivering despite the sheen of sweat on his brow. His tongue darted out to lick his chapped lips and you tried to resist the urge to trace its path with your eyes. He looked like he just might curl up in your chair and go to sleep, and if that was what he really wanted, you would let him. However, he was sick, and he had come to you, and if he couldn’t tell you what he needed, you would just have to try everything until something helped.

A moment later, you had put the kettle on for some tea and were handing him a drink of cool water.

“Here, drink this,” you said, pressing the thick green glass into his hand. “I’ll make you some tea, mint to help with any nausea, but that’s going to take a bit to be ready. Are you hungry? I was planning a bolognese but I can do something lighter instead. Maybe some soup?”

“Oh no, you don’t have to do that, Y/N…”

“When is the last time you ate?”

He frowned, blinking heavily and turning his head to stare into the space beside him as if your end table held the answer to your question. “I can’t remember.” He paused. “No, we had waffles…was it really that long ago?”

“Right,” you said, a little concerned that he almost seemed to be having a conversation with someone who wasn’t there. “That settles it, I’m making dinner.”

Decision made, you stood once more and began bustling about your kitchen. He grimaced as you chopped the vegetables and herbs for the stock and you winced, apologizing quickly and trying your best to chop quietly.

“So why are you…I mean why haven’t you…used…in a few days? I’m not an expert but isn’t cold turkey super not the recommended method to break an addiction?”

“Hm?” he asked, startling as if you had woken him from dozing. “What was that?” He turned around in the chair to blink at you over the counter.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize you had fallen asleep, you can go back to it if you want…”

“No, no, it’s fine. But I didn’t hear your question.”

“Oh, well I was just wondering why the cold turkey? Especially since it doesn’t exactly seem planned?”

“Dealer got picked up,” he said, stifling another yawn. “Most of the others around are too scared of the cops to take a new client.”

You nodded, surprised at how casual he was being about the whole thing.

“It’ll blow over in a few more days, and everything will be fine. I hope.” His voice dropped on the last remark and you weren’t sure you were supposed to hear it, so you decided not to comment.

Instead, you watched with a frown as he stifled another yawn.

“You know, the soup’s going to take a while, if you want to try and get some sleep while you wait?” you offered.

“Oh no, I couldn’t. Sleep is when they find me easiest. God so many grabbing hands. And the screaming. Always screaming.” He shivered, not from cold or the lack of chemicals or for the drama, but in obvious, genuine fright.

“Oh.” You frowned and bit your lip. “Is there anything I can…do?” you felt yourself flush with embarrassment as soon as the words left your lips, certain that they would sound far less innocent and well-meaning that you had intended them.

“Well,” he drawled, trailing off in thought. “Sometimes they’ll stay at bay for a bit if I’m not alone?”

“Okay. Well, there’s not really a lot of room for both of us on the couch, so we could take a nap in my…bed…but, and don’t take this the wrong way, you’re kind of gross…so would you mind maybe showering first?”

He laughed, high and light and it made you smile, sounding a bit more like his usual self. “No offense taken. Ooh, do you have a tub? I would love a bath…”

You raised your eyebrow curiously but nodded.

His hands clapped together giddily.

You padded to your room to dig out a spare towel and were about to give it to him when another thought occurred: he had nothing to put on after except the clothes he was currently sweating through and hadn’t been cleaned in who knew how long. Rooting through your drawers you eventually found a pair of fluffy pink and blue striped pajama pants and an old t-shirt from the Led Zeppelin concert you had gone to in high school which looked like they might fit him.

“Y/N, you are an absolute angel,” he said dramatically as you handed him the stack.

“Can you handle it on your own or…?” you trailed off, feeling awkward about your unspoken offer to help him bathe, but only a few moments before he had been practically falling asleep into his glass, and he had been unsteady on his feet in the hall.

“Oh I’ll be fine,” he said, waving a hand dismissively before he suddenly turned his puppy-dog green eyes on you. “Unless you wanted to. It really helps me relax to have someone wash my hair for me…”

You felt the hot blush creep across your face and down your neck again as you bit your lip.

“O…okay…” you stammered nervously.

“Perfect, now I’ll just go in there and slip under the suds and I’ll shout for you when I’m decent.”

“There’s nothing decent about you,” you muttered under your breath. “And I think you might be trying to give me a heart attack.”

He winked at you as he passed you and you knew he had heard you.

~

A few moments later, you had set the soup to simmer low on the stove and were kneeling on the uncomfortable tile of your bathroom floor behind Klaus. Your fingers were buried in his sopping hair, gently lathering the practically candy-scented shampoo into it. His eyes were closed, head tilted slightly back, exposing the column of his throat to you tantalizingly, and the sounds he made, practically purring at your touch, had you thinking all sorts of untoward thoughts. You had to keep reminding yourself that you were just trying to help him and that it probably meant nothing to him in his muddled state.

Finally, after maybe a little longer playing with scrubbing his hair than necessary, you scooped up some of the water to rinse away the soap. As you did, your fingertips brushed along his exposed neck and shoulders and he moaned.

“Do that again. Please,” he begged.

Heart hammering so loud you were sure he could hear it behind him, you did as he asked, dancing your fingertips along the planes and angles of his skin before digging them in just a little, gently, massaging him.

“Christ, Y/N, that feels so good,” he sighed.

‘The water’s getting cold,” you pointed out, a little breathless from the way he said your name. “And you’re going to turn into a prune if you spend any more time in there. You should probably get out.”

He turned his head, craning to look at you. “Would you like to stay and watch?”

Caught off-guard, you stared at him, gaping like a fish out of water, your mouth opening and closing. Then you stood, racing from the room, his lilting laughter following you. You practically threw yourself onto your mattress, hoping that the few minutes it would take for him to get out of the tub and dress would be enough for you to calm your frantic pulse before you actually exploded.

You also realized that you were in a now-damp pair of jeans and a button-down and that wouldn’t be very comfortable if you fell asleep in it, so you quickly changed into a baggy shirt and shorts, settling them on your hips just as the door creaked in and Klaus entered, bare-chested but fitting into your pants better than you ever had.

“Why are you doing all this for me, Y/N?” he asked, sitting beside you, still tousling his curls with the towel.

“Because you’re my friend and you asked me for help,” you said as if it were obvious.

“You could have turned me away and told me not to bother you with. Other people have.”

“No I couldn’t have,” you smiled softly. “I care about you too much to do that.”

Suddenly his lips were on yours, surging forward hot and hungry and desperate. You moaned as his tongue parted your lips somewhat forcefully and he pressed you backward onto the bed. You fingers tangled into his hair, tugging on it and causing him to inhale sharply. One of his hands, still chilled and shaking slightly, found its way beneath your waistband, sliding easily past the slightly worn elastic. You hissed as he moved your underwear out of the way and made contact with your skin.

“Klaus…wait…” you gasped out, pushing at his shoulders to move him away from you.

He pulled back immediately, looking at you with a mix of concern and fear.

“What is it? Did I…?” he murmured, apology already dancing on his tongue.

You reached up to cup his face between your hands, caressing softly and trying to brush the worried wrinkles from his brow.

“No, Klaus, you didn’t do anything wrong,” you whispered. “I just…I think we should take it slow tonight, okay?”

He nodded carefully, clearly unused to this kind of tenderness, and you leaned up to kiss his cheek before pulling him down beside you, curling around him and running your fingers soothingly through his shaggy hair. He sighed contentedly, snuggling closer and burying his face in your neck.

[astrochiron]

the signs :: ANTi // rihanna

Aries- Woo

“I bet she could never make you cry
‘Cause the scars on your heart are still mine

Tell me that she couldn't get this deep

She can almost be the worst of me”

These lyrics display Rihanna taking pride in the wounds she inflicted during the battle that she considers love. Aries would be proud of their own war wounds but prouder of the ones they gave their opponent. They're very confident and present themselves aggressively, much like the delivery of this line.

“These days you've been feeling lonely

Yeah I've been feeling lonely too

I'ma fuck it up, won't you show me some'

Run it back like you owe me some'”

Aries are independent and often repel people. This line displays the affects of that, shwoing the lonliness the sign often feels but doesn't often express. The end of this exerpt point towards Aries' overt sexuality, sans the emotional connection, like Scorpio and sans the romance, like Leo; just raw sexuality.

Overall

This is first and foremost, this song is a break-up song, which is interesting considering that Rih and Travis Scott (the unfeatured feature) had broken up by the time this song came out. This shows the conflict present in a break up, associated with Mars ruled Aries. The sound of the song is also quite raw and aggressive, almost like alarms with blaring rock tones.

Taurus- Yeah, I Said It

“And I think I kinda like ya


Up against the wall, we don't need a title

Yeah, I said it


Yeah, I said it, bae


Yeah, I said it, man, fuck a title”

Taureans are known for their direct approach and this line addresses that: “Hey, I like you, let’s fuck around; no title needed”. This and lack of interest in formality are very Taurus to me. This excerpt displays sensuality and comfort all in one.

“You can be rough, boy, but you won't

Give me some love, boy, give it to me 'til the morn'”

Stubborn and gruff are traits usually associated with Taurus. Rihanna knows, and likes, that her lover can be rough with her, but she knows he won’t, instead focusing on the pleasure of them being together. She’s craving long-lasting sex which can be associated with Taurus’ slow-moving nature and its focus on physical pleasure.

Overall

The song is overtly sexual and has literal moans at the end of it. Aries, Taurus, Leo and Scorpio are all associated with the various sides of sex and this song’s focus on the pleasurable, sensual, and long-lasting aspects of sex connect it to Taurus. This is opposed to the rougher and more primal sound of “Woo”

Gemini- Consideration

“I came fluttering in from Neverland

Time can never stop me, no, no, no, no

I know you've tried to

I came riding in on a pale white horse”

The first two lies focus on Gemini’s Mercurial nature. Neverland evokes thoughts of Peter Pan and Tinker Bell, the fairy-like boy and his very fairy companion. Geminis can be associated with fairies. Mischievous, fluttering, intelligent, and ever-busy. The excerpt goes on to illustrate Gemini’s duality as Rihanna then goes on from fluttering fairies to becoming Death on its pale white horse.

“When I look outside my window

I can't get no piece of mind

When I look outside my window

I can't get no peace of mind”

“Piece” versus “Peace” wordplay is a link to Gemini’s aforementioned versatility as well as using wordplay; which fits, given Gemini’s association with communication. Furthermore, peace of mind is uncommon for Gemini who has a busy brain. On this same note, searching for a “piece” of mind is much more common, trying to recall a memory or repelling an insistent one.

Overall

This song is an homage to Rihanna writing a lot of this album. She wanted the music industry to take her seriously as an artist and decided to prove herself by having a writing credit on all but one of the songs on the album (the cover was obviously written by someone else). Gemini is associated with writing and communication, making this very fitting. SZA and Rihanna’s back and forth also mirrors the twin mascots of Gemini.

Cancer- Close to You

“Nothing but a tear, that's all for breakfast

Watching you pretend you're unaffected

You're pulling our connections, expecting me to let you go

But I won't”

While I also cringe at Cancer’s constant connection to crying, I think it lies in place of maturity. Cancers are cardinal and, as such, are the masters of their domain. Cancers are able to adequately wade through their emotions and know the benefit of a good cry, as opposed to her Water sign sisters. Rihanna needs a good cry and has one. This excerpt also displays empathy as well as an inability to give up old memories. Cancers are tied to memories and the subjectivity of them.

“I know you don't need my protection

But I'm in love, can't blame me for checking

I love in your direction, hoping that the message goes”

Cancer’s protectiveness is exhibited in these lines. The subject of her care has obviously rebuffed her attempts at being protective; or perhaps she truly is being a bit suffocating with her care. Cancer is associated with the mother and these traits are often associated with mothers and Cancer placement alike. But at the end of the day, Cancer focuses on their emotions first and foremost. She’s forced to cut off a toxic situation and love this person from a distance, loving in their direction instead of loving them in person.

Overall

This is the most balladic song on the album, which always give me the emotionally heavy vibes of Cancer. The heavy piano accompaniment also evokes a traditional and old fashioned style; very Cancer. The song’s  overall focus is on the refusal to move on from a past love which can be linked to Cancer’s tendency to hold on to the past.

Leo- Love on the Brain

“And you got me like, "Oh, what you want from me?"

(What you want from me?)

And I tried to buy your pretty heart, but the price too high”

Leo is, by far, the most giving sign when it comes to affection and gifts. This line shows that Rihanna attempted to put a price on love and give her lover gifts to secure their love for her. When that price don't to work, Leos will give their whole heart for their love. The line “what you want from me” exhibit's Leo’s willingness to do whatever it takes for their partner.

“Must be love on the brain

That’s got me feeling this way

It beats me black and blue but it fucks me so good

And I can’t get enough”

If you couldn’t guess from the previous excerpt, this one solidifies the fact that Leo rules the heart in medical astrology. More symbolic associations with the heart are also associated with the sign too, like love and romance. Leos tend to focus on the fun side of the relationship, though, ignoring the work (like Libras) and the struggles (like Scorpio). Even through those things, the love and romance is still foremost in her brain.

Overall

The Doo Wop style of the song reminds me of the 50s; very glam and Leo. It also evokes the idea of sweethearts and school dances and all the other things privileged people of the 50s got to enjoy; romanticization of romance, regardless of the pain that may have been inflicted. The song’s overall focus is on the power of love and the ability of it to conquer all negative things for better or worse.

Virgo- Kiss It Better

“What are you willing to do?

Oh, tell me what you’re willing to do

(Kiss it, kiss it better, baby)”

This line discusses giving a sacrifice in order to get something you want, a process not unfamiliar to Virgos. Even sexually (as this song is) Virgo is servile and wants to please their partner. Their aim is to heal and assist. Rihanna’s partner is taking the role of the Virgo here, as Virgos are the physical healers and nurses. This is interesting considering that Rihanna is a Pisces, the sister sign and partner of Virgo. 

“Man, fuck yo pride

Just take it on back, boy, take it on back, boy [..]

Hurtin' vibe, man, it hurts inside when I look you in yo’ eye”

Pride is definitely a Virgo trait, again, painting her partner in a Virgoan light. Rihanna wants him to let go of his pride and admit that he’s hurt too and that he needs healing as mush as she does. Virgos have a tendency to get past their own pain in order to help others and to get things accomplished. They need to heal each other and, at that moment, the sex is doing it.

Overall

This song focuses on an already broken relationship that is in need of serious mending. There are several methods that are needed to repair a broken relationship and sex is definitely one of them as physical healing may be required before the emotional healing.

Libra- Same Ol’ Mistakes

“I can just hear them now

"How could you let us down?"

But they don't know what I found

Or see it from this way around”

Libras are always looking at how others view them as they're associated with he seventh house of our charts, which controls how we see the world and the projection we actively use when in relation with others. That’s why Libras are often indecisive, as they’re concerned with not only their wants and needs, but the perception of others too. They see multiple points of view and others don’t tend to bother to try.

“I know that you think it's fake

Maybe fake's what I like

Point is I have the right

Not thinking in black and white

I'm thinking it's worth the fight”

Libras are often considered fake, a they’re great at conforming to the situation they’re in and with the people surrounding them. This line pokes a hole in the negative view of this though; maybe, I want to be fake. Libra’s focus on justice and reserving energy for the right cause is also displayed in the latter lines of the excerpt, displaying Libra’s often overlooked ruthless attention to fairness and dispensing justice.

Overall

The whole song focuses on how a romance or connection completely changed the person in the song, a love is known to completely change Libras for better or worse. They tend to immerse themselves in their relationships. The song is full of backing vocals that can represent the self-doubt Libra often faces. They represent how they’re always checking themselves.

Scorpio- Work

“He see me do mi

Dirt, dirt, dirt, dirt, dirt, dirt!

So me put in

Work, work, work, work, work, work […]

Meh nuh cyar if ‘im

Hurt, hurt, hurt, hurt, hurting”

“He see me do mi dirt” references some secretive actions that Rihanna has done, likely cheating or something similar. She’s know required to put in work to make things right or to simply ge this mind off of the transgression by “putting in work” or having sex. Both secrets and sex are centered around the sign of Scorpio, especially using both to manipulate and control a situation. Scorpios may go to the extreme in reaction and sometimes just to get a response, pointing toward Rihanna not caring if she’d hurt her partner with her actions, only wishing to make them right, now.

“Nuh body touch me you nuh righteous

Nuh badda, text me in a crisis

I believed all of your dreams, adoration

You took my heart and my keys and my patience

You took my heart on my sleeve for decoration

You mistaken my love I brought for you for foundation”

At their core, Scorpios crave someone to turn to when things get dark. When a crisis happens, Rihanas wants someone to turn to for support. The later part of the excerpt points toward Scorpio’s tendency to put their all into others. This often leaves them feeling unappreciated if the other person isn’t all in or isn't as intense as they are.

Overall

This song is as overtly sexual as Aries’ “Woo” and Taurus’ “Yeah, I Said It”, but it focuses on the connection and power gained from sex. Rihanna uses sex to get her partner over their troubles, including her working too much and ever her possibly stepping out on him. Drake’s inclusion in the song also didn't go unnoticed, as he is a Scorpio Sun and adds even more sex appeal and Plutonian energy to this hit.

Sagittarius- Desperado

“Gotta get up out of here

And yuh ain't leavin' me behind

I know you won't cause we share common interests

You need me, there ain't no leaving me behind

Never, no, no, I just want outta here, yeah

Once I'm gone, ain’t no going back”

Sagittarius’ need for freedom and to roam is keenly exhibited by this excerpt. Rihanna’s parter is, again, the focus of the sign’s energy as he wants to leave. It isn't know whether he wants to leave their situation, their location, or Rihanna, but she wants to throw caution to the wind and go with him regardless. Sag’s need constant and renewed interest and good conversation to maintain their interest for someone. He and Rihanna have a lot in common and she hopes that can keep them bonded.

“If you want, we can be runaways

Running from any sight of love

Yeah, yeah, there ain’t nothin'

There ain't nothin' here for me

There ain't nothin' here for me anymore

But I don't wanna be alone”

Sag’s are very much known as the nomads of the sign, needing to travel and experience things in order to feel like they’re experiencing life. Rihanna is taking on the traits of this nomad, wanting to run away from the stagnancy and boredom that often comes with settling into love. These are two things that Sag is known to have not much interest in and is known to run away from emotional connection when unready to settle down and share their experience with someone.

Overall

A “desperado” is defined as “a desperate or reckless person, especially a criminal” by Oxford. Sagittarius is a fire sign, often down for reckless tact and a desperate need for freedom, making them desperados in life. The criminal activity isn't too much associated with Sag, but who knows once they get a drink or six in them.

Capricorn- Needed Me

“I was good on my own, that's the way it was

That's the way it was

You was good on the low for a faded fuck

On some faded love”

Capricorns are known for independence. Not like Aries wanting to do things on their own or Sagittarius wanting to experience things with through their own unbiased eyes, but Capricorn can be something of a hermit, being okay with reaching their goals by themselves and for themselves. They’re not particularly known for emotional connections, leaving that to their sister sign, Cancer.

“You needed me

Ooh, you needed me

To feel a little more, and give a little less

Know you hate to confess

But baby ooh, you needed me”

When Capricorns do decide to share their lives with others, they may assume people are operating under ulterior motives. Rihanna feels that she was used as a status symbol due to her success by her partner; hell, maybe several partners. Capricorn’s are foremost interested in their status and may often not be sure if people are attracted to what Cap can do for them or in Cap themselves. This proves to be true in this case, as she is said to have given more to the relationship than him and he felt even less for her because of it.

Overall

This song has a definite theme of female empowerment that can be appreciated by the feminine Cardinal sign of Capricorn. Capricorn women do typically embody the role of a woman in charge and demand respect, even from heir partner. The tempo of the song is laid back while conveying very bold lyrics, very much the Capricornian vibe.

Aquairus- James Joint

“I'd rather be smoking weed whenever we breathe

Every time you kiss me

Don't say that you miss me

Just come get me”

Besides Pisces, Aquarius has the strongest connection to drugs in the zodiac. Whereas Pisces is seeking escape (see “Higher” up next), but more of a normal activity that unlocks the mind and allows one to look at multiple points of view. The excerpt goes on to exhibit Aquarius’ hate for words of affection. “Just come get me” shows their tendency to relying on acts of love instead of words, as Aquarius is an air sign and they know that words are simply wind.

“Just making scenes, here come the police

They know about your history

How you live and love like "fuck rules"?

Don't care why, just know I love you”

“[F]uck rules” is possibly all I need to explain this line. Aquarians are very anti-rules unless they've been proven effective and this instance shows her partner, James Joint, is very much interested in making his own rules. Their fight and arrival of the police represent unexpected circumstances, instances ruled by Aquarius’ ruler, Uranus.

Overall

This song is an interlude. They’re used as a break from the flow of the album and to introduce some for the quirkier sides of the artist, a perfect Aquarian venue for expression. The song was also released early on 4/20 as a teaser for the album, further connecting it with drugs and weed culture.

Pisces- Higher

“This whiskey got me feelin' pretty

So pardon if I'm impolite

I just really need your ass with me

I'm sorry 'bout the other night”

Pisces is connected to being under the influence, seeking escape and rest from the tiresome world. Rihanna is in her hotel room and obviously cross-faded, wanting nothing more than to spill her feelings to her lover. This excerpts focus on apologies and the general clinginess are also often associated with Pisces.

“You take me higher, higher than I've ever been, babe

Just come over, let's pour a drink, babe

I hope I ain't calling you too late, too late

You light my fire

Let's stay up late and smoke a J

[…]

But I'm drunk instead, with a full ashtray

With a little bit too much to say”

The whole second part of the song is the content of her emotions spilling over like I mentioned earlier. It’s a bit chaotic and train--of-thought, fitting the mutable nature of the Water sign Pisces. Pisces also gets inspiration from its connection to those around them. For them, the solitude that Rihanna is experiencing can be a win/lose situation, allowing them to feel their on feelings without being filtered by the vibe of everyone around them, but it also leaves them alone in their spiraling thoughts and occasionally self-destructive tendencies.

Overall

Overall, the song is full of raw emotion and honesty. It only took Rihanna less than half an hour to write and that, again, denotes its purity. This hits home even more when you consider that Rihanna herself is a Pisces. The title of the song shows a connection to Pisces’ association to escapism and getting high to not feel so low.

check your moon sign (for the song that makes you comfortable and puts you in your emotions), sun sign (the song that makes you happy and the one you ride around to) and venus sign (the one that speaks to your inner artist).

[callmeelle22]

Blue Dream III

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Alen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 4, 559

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything; It would make sense, she supposes, if looking at her also feels like this for him, like her heart beats in time with every breath he takes and like time slows or stalls or...like every minute here is infinitely longer and in these moments… in these moments, she thinks that the world must somehow tilt on its axis because she feels...i feel you comin' down like honey, do do you even know i'm alive?, do do you even know i, i... she feels… (Read below or on the AO3 link on the chapter title.)

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Can't Take My Eyes Off of You

Chapter VII: I'm in Love with You

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream

Anything

Maybe I should kill my inhibition

Maybe I'll be perfect in a new dimension

On the Saturday the week after Barry’s impromptu visit, Iris finds herself down on Main Street about half an hour after 10 in the morning. Nearly the entire 8 blocks of the street are sectioned off, with a plethora of white tents set up on both sides of the street. She glances on as she makes her way down the sidewalk, as people set up books and jewelry and clothes; beer and wine and harder liquor; food and sweets and other treats.

It’s the setup for Central City’s Fall Fest, one of a multitude of fests in the city that Iris calls home. It’ll be open to the public in a few hours and, like usual, Iris will make her way up and down the blocks a few times, holding a beer in one hand and something fried on a stick in the other, a couple of bags filled with things she doesn’t need in the crook of her elbow.

Now, though, she steps into the alley that leads to the side door of Golden’s, an Asian and American fusion restaurant and bar owned by the parents of her best friend, Linda Park. She gives a heavy-handed couple of knocks and only moments later, Linda opens the door to let her in.

Iris first met the other women when they were in the 7th grade. Iris’s parents had divorced several months prior to a new school year and for reasons not then known to Iris, her dad had gotten full custody of her and six-year-old Wally. They’d moved into a new house on the other side of town and that had meant a new school for her. Linda had sat beside her in their homeroom/advisory class and the girl with beige skin and long dark brown hair was constantly scribbling something in a notebook. Iris had discovered that they’d been stories, usually with families as the starring characters. By then, Iris had begun to write in her own notebook—musings and wonderings about the neighbors she’d just met, about what it meant to be the oldest child of divorced parents. They’d bonded over their writing; well, that and being two of only a handful of girls at the school with skin darker than the pale and spray-tanned skin of their classmates.

For over a decade, it’s been Iris and Linda. Through the messy stages of puberty and their even messier interactions with high school boys; through late-night study binges and even worse interactions with college boys. Through the drug addiction that took Iris’s mom and the car crash that had put Linda’s older brother on life support until he’d succumbed to his own injuries, they’ve navigated it all together.

Now, life gets in the way. Linda, almost immediately after undergrad graduation, had begun shopping around a number of short stories and personal essays she had written until, finally, a publisher had bit and opted to publish them as an anthology. A few years and too many nights spent locked in a room later and Linda’s book is a New York Times bestseller. Iris’s own success story is pending. In addition to completing her graduate degree (which, at 26, she’d started late, after taking some time off and working at a local newspaper), she runs a blog, one she’d started by accident. Her middle school musings had become pointed interviews and, with the classes she’d taken in college, had gotten the necessary skills to begin writing up her own human interest stories. It’s amazing, she’s learned, what people will tell you when they can hide behind the face of someone else. What a Life You’ve Lived is growing in popularity, making some money too, and it’s starting to become more than just a hobby for Iris.

Neither Iris nor Linda is ever truly free; but in a concentrated effort to make time, they brunch at least twice a month. This morning, it’s at Golden’s (where Linda is working as a bartender while she writes her next book) because her parents want them to try out new menu items. When the door shuts behind them, Linda turns and gives Iris a hug, wrapping her arms around her neck. Iris returns it, smiling into her hair, her familiar lavender scent a warm comfort she didn’t know she needed.

“I’ve missed your beautiful face,” Linda says, squeezing her hard once before letting her go.

“Yeah?” Iris asks, mouth lifting in a smirk. “Is it because you’re tired of looking at Daniel’s beautiful face?”

Linda rolls her eyes. “Never, though I’d rather put my eye out before I tell him that.”

Linda has been dating her boyfriend Daniel Ngyuen, nerdy engineer and man ridiculously head over heels for her, for a few months, after they met at a book signing hosted by Linda’s parents.

“You’re ridiculous,” Iris tells her, and Linda preens in response.

Something in Iris tightens, a faint film of green clouding her view for all of a millisecond. She’s ashamed she even had the thought, that she feels anything but happiness at the light in her friend’s chocolate brown eyes or the glow in her cheeks. She’s not jealous of Linda, of course she’s not. But Iris can’t help but find some envy at the feeling of contentment that so obviously surrounds her friend and the juxtaposition of her own drifting existence.

It’s almost tangible, these differences, at least to her. Iris can see the confidence practically emanating from Linda’s dress-clad form, the long-sleeved maxi dress and tall sandals, her wavy shoulder-length hair, making her look a little like a goddess. But Iris imagines that’s what it must look like, to be at the start of a career you’ve always wanted, to have the love of a man you’re secure in, to just...know your place, your purpose.

And maybe Iris is being dramatic. She supposes she looks as put together as she’s always thought she needed to be in her light denim jeans, pale pink cropped sweater, and tan block-heeled sandals. She’s been wearing her natural hair out this week and the wavy curls are piled up in an artfully messy bun. Still, even if Iris can’t touch on why she feels so scattered, like all of the pieces that make up the whole of her are floating aimlessly around her body, she cannot deny that the feeling is there, taking up space in her head like the songs she latches on to keep focused, maybe I should pray a little harder, or work a little smarter.

They walk through the restaurant, bustling with the waitstaff preparing for the 11 am opening. Golden’s isn’t an overly large place, only able to fit about 50 people at a time, but Iris thinks it’s a part of the charm. It’s decorated in dark brown wood and bright white and gold light fixtures; the tables and booths are spread out in a way that allows for privacy, making customers feel as if they’re in their own little worlds.

Linda leads them to their usual table, one actually tucked into a little alcove where only the Parks and their guests are allowed to sit. At the table, there’s already a carafe of juice too close to red-pink to be orange juice, along with a bottle of champagne. Outside of the wine and marijuana Friday nights and the occasional party or club, Iris only really indulges in alcohol when she and Linda have these brunches. They slide into the booth and Linda immediately reaches for the champagne.

Over the next couple of hours, Iris is reminded of why, regardless of her own issues, she loves his woman. They laugh, sharing stories of Iris’s students and the customers who come into Golden’s. They get on each other’s nerves, making jokes and ribbing the other any chance they get. At one point, Linda’s parents come out, her honey-skinned Chinese mother Xuan and her dad Theo, Chinese and white with skin like baked sugar cookies, and Iris blinks adoringly up at the both of them, always lost in their beauty—both tall and elegant with ridiculous cheekbones.

“It’s sickening,” Linda mutters as she watches Iris watch them walk away, “how you look at them.”

“I’ve had a crush on your parents for as long as I’ve known them,” Iris replies. “If they ever want a thre-”

“Don’t you finish that fucking statement,” Linda gripes and Iris howls in laughter until Linda points out the attractiveness of Iris’s own father. “You know I’d always hop on the chance to be your stepmom.”

“And I’d happily sabotage your wedding day.”

“But it’d be worth it when I got to climb on top of Daddy West during the honeymoon.”

Iris throws a strawberry at her.

She hears him before she sees him. She’s been at Fall Fest for only about twenty minutes after leaving Golden’s, full and tipsy, walking through the steadily filling streets. Of all of the festivals in Central City, of which there are several (seasonal fests like the Fall and Spring fests; food fests like the Food Truck and Italian Food fests; cultural fests like the Juneteenth and Hispanic Heritage fests), the Fall Fest is one of her favorites. It’s during the best time of the year, when the sun is still blazing but the wind cuts through the heat. When the leaves have begun to drift off trees and dance onto the ground, changing into the shades of yellow and orange and red that only nature can paint. When the booths run the gamut in what they sell, from cooked and packaged foodstuffs, to clothes and jewelry, to dance or golf lessons. It’s the one festival, besides the Pan-African Celebration, that their entire family would attend, even for a few years after the divorce. Her parents would take off work and put aside their differences to spend time together--until Wally had felt too old and her dad had needed too many more work hours and her mom had gotten too lost; and then Iris had started coming with Linda and then, this year, alone.

But she doesn’t dwell—she tries not to dwell these days—and besides, she’s just heard him.

He doesn’t sound any different in the light of the day. In her head, she keeps hearing him as he is in the throes of passion, when his voice is more of a throaty curse, when it’s a rumble against her heated flesh. Here, out here with children screaming from their blocked-off sections and ladies laughing as they smell through candle selections and men arguing from the faux sports bars set up at random tents, he should sound like anyone else. He shouldn’t even be heard over the music coming from the speakers they can’t see—down for the ride, down for the ride; you could take me anywhere; do do do down for the ride, down for the ride; you could take me anywhere; i hope you will, I hope you will, I hope you will—or the sheer noise that’s true for events like this. But he is.

She looks up, ignoring the woman still trying to convince her to buy a bottle or three of perfume, and she sees him, right at the booth beside hers. He’s with two other men, one shorter with light brown skin and dark brown eyes and black hair pulled back in a ponytail; the other only a bit taller than the friend, with skin darker than Iris’s, glasses, and a short afro. Iris vaguely thinks that the three of them together are some sort of setup for a bar joke. They’re dressed similarly, in pants and t-shirts, though Iris’s eyes catch onto Barry’s hunter green chinos and white shirt, the beige pocket square matching his desert boots. All three of them have relatively full beers in their hands and Iris is looking at the cup in Barry’s hand (or rather, his fingers wrapped around the cup) for about three seconds before it jerks, beer spilling out. She looks up to find he’s looking back at her too, muttering “Iris,” in surprise.

She watches her hand and smiles back at him, a bit awkwardly, stepping away from the booth where the woman has already moved on to a new customer.

“Hi Barry,” she responds, walking over to them. She spares a glance at the other two, the Black man looking at her curiously, the Latino man a bit more humorously. “Fancy seeing you here.”

It’s not her smoothest line, but Iris thinks she might be in shock. When he’d left her, again, before she woke up on Saturday morning, she’d found his number written in tiny handwriting on the notepad on her desk, the unimaginative “call me” scribbled beneath it. She hadn’t. She’d thought about; oh had she.

On Monday, she’d debated calling him up to grab a coffee during her break. On Wednesday, she’d gotten an email about a new story and she’d wondered, for a moment, what he might think about it. But then she’d thought of his sweet mouth telling her “I wanted to know if it was as good as my memory,” and she had decided that he likely wouldn’t care about her days.

Now, he gives her a thorough once-over, probably remembering, and Iris feels a flush of heat run through her that she knows has very little to do with the warm late September sun.

“Iris,” he says again, his voice a touch higher than normal. His companions look at each other, eyebrows raised.

“Iris,” the long-haired one repeats, laughter coloring his tone. “I’m Cisco.”

“And I’m Chester,” says the one with dark skin, and they both stand there looking at her, grinning like loons until Barry cuts in.

“Alright, stop being weird.”

They don’t. Barry rolls his eyes and pushes past them to stand in front of her. Even with the heels she’s wearing, she has to stretch her neck a little to look up at him.

“Hey,” he says, this time lower, a soft breeze on her skin.

“Hi,” she repeats, just as softly.

The sounds of the carnival don’t disappear so much as they become muted, such as if she were submerged in water or if there was a rushing in her ears, because everything becomes background noise save for the concentrated sound of his voice.

“You didn’t call,” he says to her.

“I—” she starts, but she’s got nothing to say, not anything that won’t make her sound needy or desperate.

“Hey Barry,” Cisco calls.

“Yeah?” Barry answers, but he doesn’t turn away from her. No, he’s looking at her still, assessing her almost. He’s trying to figure something out, she decides, or at least that’s how it seems, what with the way he stares so intently, blue-green eyes pouring into her, bringing up images of them staring up at her from between her thighs, bringing out impressions that feel like more than lust, like more than just two people who’ve only ever bared their bodies to each other.

“We’re gonna go to another tent,” Chester says. “Catch up with you later.”

“Alright,” is the reply, those eyes glittering like the sea in the afternoon sun, still fixed on her. There’s a slight frown to his mouth, and when he speaks again, she can’t tell if he’s reached his conclusion or not.

“Walk with me?”

She nods before she even thinks about it. “Sure.”

They start back down the path. The booths are in abundance this year; it’s a bigger festival than she’s seen before. For a while, they don’t talk. They walk side by side, arms brushing every so often, stopping at booths that catch their attention. For him is a booth with a variety of multi-piece puzzles, some featuring landscapes and gardens, others of the solar system or space. For her, it’s one selling notebooks, beautiful leather-bound journals. She stops, enthralled, picking up one in coral-colored leather with rose-gold edging.

“We can also engrave the name,” the sun-tanned woman with pale blonde hair behind the tent says. “Or you can order custom colors.”

Iris nods, murmurs, “these are really nice,” and continues flipping through the heavy cream paper in the coral notebook. These days, much of her writing gets done on her overused Macbook; it’s just easier that way. But when she writes, for herself—little anecdotes about her day, her feelings spelled out in poetry—she does so in notebooks like these.

“You’re a writer,” Barry wonders and it’s a statement as much as it’s a question.

“Yeah.” She looks up at him and nods. “I’m actually getting my master’s in journalism.”

She puts the journal down once she notes the $40 price tag and thanks the woman as they walk off, Iris looking back at the notebook with longing.

“I also run a blog,” she tells him, and the words tumbling out of her mouth are a shock.

“Really?” he looks at her in surprise. “What’s the site? Is it popular?”

It’s not like she’s embarrassed of her blog or anything, but it feels different, to tell people she knows about her work. Because it’s one thing for strangers to read what she types out in earnest, and in tears and in vulnerability, but it’s something altogether different for people she knows to do the same. They aren’t her stories, not actually, but they are always her words, always her emotions she puts into them, and it feels too, too telling somehow.

“It’s growing in popularity,” she tells him, because she’s the one who opened this can of worms. “It’s called What a Life You’ve Lived.”

He hums, like that means something to him, but before she can ask what, two kids come barreling through the aisle. Iris tries to step out of the way and she slips, her heel catching in a small crack in the asphalt. Her knees buckle, but before she can hit the ground, Barry’s arms are around her. One of his large hands holds onto her, pressed against the bare skin of her belly, and then she’s pressed fully against him.

It’s absurd how much she likes the feel of him—the slim but corded muscles in his arms, the apparent strength in his fingers; and she likes the smell of him too, the faint hint of his laundry detergent mixed with the heat of the sun mixed with the citrus of his cologne. It’s another moment (™), which doesn’t make sense because he’s only just caught her from falling. But he’s looking at her like there is more in her gaze besides the brown of her irises, the flutter of her lashes. It would make sense, she supposes, if looking at her also feels like this for him, like her heart beats in time with every breath he takes and like time slows or stalls or...like every minute here is infinitely longer and in these moments… in these moments, she thinks that the world must somehow tilt on its axis because she feels...i feel you comin' down like honey, do do you even know i'm alive?, do do you even know i, i...she feels…

“Are you alright?”

Barry’s voice is quiet, too quiet for the energy they’re surrounded by. And maybe she doesn’t even hear it as she does read the movement of his pink mouth.

“Yeah, I am.”

He straightens, then, and gives her a half-smile. “You know, Iris, if you wanted to fall all over me, you could have just called.”

He likely had been trying for levity, but it’s pointed, right there at the end. She steps away from him and he lets her, his fingers sliding along the small of her back until they’re no longer on her skin. It leaves her cold

(only that can’t be true, because it’s far too warm out)

and she watches as he stuffs his hands into his pockets.

“I was waiting on your call, Iris.”

They've moved into a corner where the direction of the festival booths turn right. Straight ahead of them is a 21+ section; it features a stage where performances will begin around 5 as well as a number of makeshift bar stations. There’s a similar set-up with kid-friendly activities on the other side of the festival. Barry’s friends are standing at one of the bar stations talking to two women, both with chestnut-brown skin and long kinky hair. Iris’s eyes shift to take in the rest of her surroundings, to the sound of people laughing and the couples holding hands and the families who seem elated to be together on a day like today.

When she turns back, Barry is patiently watching her, head tilted to the side, expression thoughtful, like it always tends to be.

“Have dinner with me tonight,” Barry suggests “We can walk around some more. And once we get sun-tired, I can take you to this spot that I like nearby and we can talk. Maybe about why you didn’t call.”

She licks her lips, pulls the bottom one between her teeth. She hedges, long enough to tell herself that this would be a foolish endeavor, that she should just say no, that he’s nice and cute and what harm would it do. But, really, when he asks, those cyan eyes gleaming and his cheeks faintly pink and his face so goddamn hopeful it almost makes her look away, she really has no other choice.

“Okay, sure.”

She doesn’t tell him why she doesn’t call.

What she does is tell him about her dad and how she’s always been in awe of him, of his grace and his strength and the lessons he’d taught her. She tells him about Wally, who’s brilliant and searching, trying to figure out his way (not unlike her, though this she doesn’t say). She tells him about Linda, her sister in all of the ways that count, who’s always with her, even when she isn’t. And when he asks, because of course he does, she tells him about her mother who was beautiful and kind, all the way until sickness took her away.

She tells him this because he tells her first, about a larger-than-life father whose proximity to wrong-doing bureaucrats had landed him in prison, and an easy-going mother whose life had ended because someone else had been desperate for the money in her purse.

They do indeed walk around ‘til they’re tired, until around 6. Then Barry takes her to a little American bistro where they pride themselves on grass-fed meats and homegrown vegetables. They devour burgers the size of their heads and a mountain of fries that deserve their own table. He stuffs her with food and a piece of pie after, and he asks her some questions. He wants to know her favorite color and the television show she’s currently watching and if she’s always wanted to be a writer: yellow and Bridgerton and only since her parents’ divorce, when she’d needed to know that hers was only a unique story—or maybe she had needed confirmation that it wasn’t. She wonders about his dream job, his favorite hobby, the one thing he wishes he could do: forensic scientist, which he is, amateur theater, and getting his dad out of prison. That opens up a space for more convolution than should be allowed on a first date, and so she asks him more about amateur theater.

After, he walks her back to where her car is parked past Golden’s. When they get there, he listens for the sound of her car alarm, and then he turns her around, pressing her back against her car door. He walks closer, a hand at her waist, the other reaching up to cup the back of her neck, thumb circling lightly around her throat.

“Thank you for dinner,” she whispers. “I had a really nice time.”

“Yeah?” His mouth ticks up, that half-smile that is somehow both charming and a little bit maddening. “Enough that I might get a kiss?”

She tilts her head as if in thought, even as she gives in to her desire to touch him too, reaching up to finger at the faint moles dotting her cheeks. She only barely nods her acquiescence when he closes whatever distance is left and kisses her. Iris is always surprised by how warm his mouth is, by how sweet he tastes. He tastes like the apple pie they had earlier, but also like early sunset coffee on cool fall mornings and like how slow sex in the middle of the night feels.

He’s gentle in some ways, his mouth moving slow against hers, his tongue licking into her mouth like he’s trying to find life inside of her. But he’s a little rough too, squeezing at her waist so he won’t fondle her in the middle of the street, tightening his hold on her throat, only a little, but enough that Iris begins to feel the action in the throb of her sex. They kiss, eyes closed, her own fingers scratching at the nape of his neck, her hips thrusting against his in time to the flick of his tongue across her bottom lip, until she feels the swell of his dick against her belly and her loud moan tears him away from her.

“Fuck Iris,” he all but growls, licking his lips as he looks her over, a little wrecked. She hadn’t even realized she was doing it, playing with the soft strands of his hair, until she notices it’s all messy, matching the state of his swollen mouth, his wrinkled skirt, the heavy dent in the center of his pants. She wonders what she looks like.

“Get in the car, baby.”

Wide-eyed at the endearment outside of sex, Iris does as he tells her to, sliding in and buckling up before he closes the door. When the purr of her engine starts, he motions for her to roll her window down. She does, waiting as he plants his elbow on top of the car, bending his lean frame down so that his face is level with her.

He smiles softly at her. “Go out with me next Sunday.”

She bites at her lip, if only to give herself another moment to breathe. Because this date would be moving beyond a two-night stand, beyond an impromptu date, far beyond kissing on the side of the street.

“What time on Sunday?”

“Early afternoon,” he says and leans in even closer. “I’ll pick you up.”

She nods before she can talk herself out of it, even if she knows that she should. Barry motions for her with a crook of one of his long fingers, and it makes her think of what’s been playing in her head, of down for the ride, down for the ride; you can take me anywhere, and when she comes to, he places a sweet kiss on her mouth.

“I’ll see you next week,” he says, pulling away slowly.

And then Iris watches him—his strong and assured walk, his compelling and commanding aura—until she can’t see him anymore.

Do do do down for the ride, down for the ride

You could take me anywhere

I hope you will, I hope you will, I hope you will

[angstyaches]

All the even numbers of the 100 oc question thing for Payton pls

Milo, darling, thank you! I’m gonna pop these under a cut because it got to almost 3,000 words 😂🖤

2. Do you think you would get along with your oc if you could meet them? What things would you talk about?

Oh god, thinking about this is stressing me out. I’m awkward when meeting anyone for the first time, so we’d probably just be painfully polite to each other and talking about the weather and - agh, no. Don’t make me do it!!

4. Is your oc a daredevil, or more of a scaredy cat? What is the most daring thing they’ve done in their life?

They’re somewhere down the middle. They jumped off a cliff into freezing cold water even though they can’t swim well, because their (now ex) girlfriend wanted to do it.

6. How much thought does your oc put into what they wear/look like? Any reason why?

A lot. Even if they’re wearing something boring like sweat pants and a t-shirt, they’ll have chosen it with careful consideration. Their gender dysphoria shifts so that some days they want to present as masculine, others as androgynous, and choosing the right clothes is their sole way of feeling mildly comfortable.

8. What kind of flavours does your oc like? How much spice can they handle?

Payton has an arguably basic palate, and likes simple and bland(ish) foods. They can handle spice pretty well too, so long as it’s not in huge amounts. 

10. What are some of your oc’s pet peeves? How do they handle it when the annoyance doesn’t stop?

Payton gets antsy when they know that other people know a secret and they don’t. Even if it’s nothing to do with them, or with anything they care about, it eats away at them. They get a little whiny and keep badgering people with guesses until they find out what’s going on.

They also hate it when customers at the coffee shop come up to the counter and say “The usual!”, as though they’re the only customer who regularly comes in and orders the same drink. Payton rarely loses their smile when talking to a customer though, and will only complain about it in private later.

12. How well would your oc handle being placed in a leadership position?

Considering they’re a Grade A Pushover, not very well. Payton would get overwhelmed by everyone else’s ideas and needs, and be unable to make a decision knowing they can’t please everyone.

14. What is your oc’s speech like? How loud are they usually? Do they have an accent or a stutter?

Payton is very soft-spoken until they’re made to laugh or feel some other strong emotion, and at that point their voice gets a little high-pitched. (I’m gonna skip the accent bit because I haven’t settled too much on the geography portion of Lucyverse lol)

16. How affectionate is your oc? How do they convey their affection? By being touchy, or through more subtle ways?

Fairly affectionate, and usually good at picking up on when someone needs reassurance. They’ll usually be verbally affectionate, even though they themself are often in need of physical touch.

18. How physically strong is your oc? Is their agility or endurance better?

Payton is relatively fit, but not particularly strong or fast. They’re the kind to enthusiastically begin a brisk walk up a mountain trail, but be complaining of sore legs fifteen minutes in.

20. Does your oc have any favourite games to pass the time? What other hobbies do they have?

Payton sometimes plays chill, open-ended video games like Minecraft or the Sims. They also play a little electric guitar and watch a lot of old movies.

22. How easily does your oc fare in the sun? Do they tan or burn easily? Are they completely unaffected?

Payton already has slightly dark skin, but they tan a little more if they’re in the sun for a very long time.

24. Is your oc a romantic, or are they grossed out by the simple mention of anything romantic?

A hopeless romantic, but very shy about it. Will have a million ideas for how to impress Autumn, but will be too embarrassed or afraid of things going wrong to actually put them into action.

26. How does your oc sleep? Do they move around a lot? What position does your oc normally sleep in? What are their typical bedding arrangements like?

Payton is a deep sleeper unless there’s something on their mind, in which case they jolt awake several times with tense joints and grinding teeth. If alone, they lie on their stomach with one arm under the pillow, blanket pulled all the way up, but if they’re with Autumn, they like to spoon (either as big or little; as a couple, they switch it up a lot).

28. How organized is your oc? How important is organization to your oc?

Organised enough that they couldn’t be classed as messy, but disorganised enough that they will break into a momentary cold sweat if asked to locate something quickly. 

30. How caring/empathetic is your oc? Are they the type to immediately adopt and protect others, or are they a true sadist?

Payton is often too empathetic. They wouldn’t really put themself in an “adopting” or “protecting” role, but goes out of their way to make sure the people around them feel heard and understood.

32. How judgemental is your oc? Do they keep an open mind about people, or are they the type to judge a book by its cover?

They try not to make any assumptions about people, but find it difficult sometimes when they meet so many customers in a day and don’t receive any information besides their appearances and their coffee orders.

34. Does your oc have a pet? If they could have another one or if they were to get one, what would it be? How well could they care for it?

They do not, but they would get a tank of tropical fish if they had more space and more income. They would take amazing care of them, and would probably even make an Instagram account for the tank.

36. What is your oc’s fight or flight response like? What sorts of things provoke it the most?

They would lean towards flight, and it would kick in if they were being threatened or verbally abused, or if the situation was just getting too much to bear in general.

38. What does your oc do to relax? Any specific activities? Why?

Payton enjoys baths after particularly stressful days, just because it’s private and they can pretend time doesn’t exist for a little while. They can also get their mind off of things by watching or creating something.

40. What languages does your oc know? Are there any they want to learn but haven’t had the chance to? How good are they at picking up new ones?

English and secondary school-level French. They have a slight grasp of Urdu because of their Pakistani grandmother who they were close with growing up, but they can understand it more than they can speak it.

42. Is your oc an optimist or a pessimist? Any particular reason why?

Payton is more a realist, because while they would love to be an optimist (and sometimes they are, if they can’t help themself), they’ve had too many disappointments in life to let themself get carried away.

44. How violent is your oc? Or are they more a pacifist? To what lengths will they go to start/avoid a conflict?

Pacifist. Unfortunately, they’ll often change their opinion or stance in order to diffuse a situation, buckling under pressure if they think things will escalate into a fight.

46. Does your oc lie a lot, or is the truth very important to them? What is their reaction to other people lying to them?

The truth is important to them, but they also realise the damage it can do if it’s shared at the wrong time. They really don’t like being lied to though, as they then overthink about how stupid they must have looked while they were believing the lie.

48. What are your oc’s nervous tics? Are they aware of them? Do they attempt to hide them?

Payton scratches or rubs their neck a lot when they’re anxious, which they’re sometimes aware of, but aren’t too self-conscious about.

50. How attentive is your oc? How perceptive are they? How easily do they get distracted?

They’re attentive to the people around them, and fairly perceptive of other people’s needs, until they feel overwhelmed or exhausted, and then they’ll get easily distracted by a stray train of thought.

52. In what ways does your oc cope with anger? How easily angered are they? Do they lash out?

Payton rarely lashes out, but will get emotional if their anger simmers for too long without being resolved. They’re more likely to grieve the end of something thanks to anger, than fight for it and risk failing.

54. How would you describe your oc’s voice to sound like? Do you have any voice claims for them?

As I said before, Payton is soft-spoken but with a slightly high-pitched voice when it’s raised. I don’t know about any voice claims.

56. What is your oc’s favourite colour? If you had to choose one colour to represent your oc, what would it be and why?

Their favourite colour is orange! I think orange is a good colour to represent them too because it’s bright but at the same time it’s a deep, intense colour.

58. How would you describe your oc’s appearance to someone who’s looking for them? What features would be most identifiable?

5″8, dark hair, long bangs (probably) covering one side of their face (unless they’re at work), eyebrow piercing.

60. How good is your oc at keeping track of time? Are they always late, always early, or always right on time?

Payton keeps fairly good time, since they really don’t like the idea of making anyone wait around for them.

62. How quick is your oc? Do they have faster or slower reflexes? What things are they quickest at?

Payton works quickly, and gets customers’ orders made in very good time, but if they’re asked to change tasks halfway through completing another, they get serious mental whiplash and slow down a lot.

64. Which of the seven deadly sins does your oc fall under most? What about the seven heavenly virtues?

Envy, and Charity. (Sounds very contradictory actually!)

66. What sort of advice would people go to your oc for? What sort of advice is your oc actually good at giving?

Even though they don’t outwardly look like a style guru, they’re the one that their friends go to if they want advice on an outfit, or on a tattoo or piercing they’re thinking of getting. They’re also good at giving advice on drama and relationships, since they’re able to put themself in other peoples’ shoes.

68. What sorts of things would cheer your oc up when they’re down? Is your oc sad often, or is it more rare?

Food. Just feed the sad Payton, they’ll be okay. They’re sad less often when they get together with Autumn and sort everything out with Donnacha.

70. What about your oc’s lifestyle would they change if they had the ability? Why?

All they would want to do is slow down time so they can keep working at the coffee shop and take all the time they need to decide about what career they want to follow afterwards.

72. What is your oc’s ideal environment like? Urban or natural? Fancy or rustic? What’s the weather like?

It would be an urban oasis type of place, like a little park in the city, with a fountain or a space for street performers to put on shows. Nothing fancy or stylish needed. I’m picturing late autumn evening, the sun just dipping behind the buildings and treetops.

74. How would your oc act when drunk? What about when really, really tired?

Payton doesn’t actually drink, but if they did, they would get really clingy and affectionate at first, but quickly dissolve into crying. And actually, tired (or hungry) Payton is more or less the same, but on a less dramatic scale.

76. What is/was your oc’s relationship with their family like? Was it happy, tense, or abusive? What living family does your oc currently have, if any?

Payton was raised by their aunt and uncle, who they had a decent but not overly close relationship with. They never felt understood in that household, but never unsafe either. Their living family members are their aunt and uncle, and their two cousins.

78. How socially skilled is your oc? Are they good at understanding social cues? How charismatic are they?

They’re extremely charming at first meeting

80. What is your oc’s handwriting like? How easy to read is it? Can they write/read cursive?

Payton has very tidy cursive handwriting that most people can read easily. They used to dot their I’s with little bubbles instead of dots when they were younger, and they sometimes do it by accident if they’re not paying attention.

82. What would be your oc’s ultimate dream vacation? Where would they go? Who would they take with them? What would they do?

As long as they could explore a new place and learn about a new culture, they would be set. Egypt, Vietnam, and Iceland are all on their bucket list. They’d love for Autumn to go with them, but they’re not opposed to traveling alone if it was in a country where they’d feel safe.

84. Is your oc more masculine, feminine, androgynous, or something else entirely?

It literally depends on the day.

86. What would someone assume about your oc based on their appearance? Would those assumptions be correct?

People might assume Payton is shy and probably a bit rude, since they tend to hide a lot of their face with their hair and keep their head down, but as soon as they start talking, people realise they’re actually really friendly and kind.

88. Does your oc hold grudges? For how long? Does your oc have any rivals?

No, Payton doesn’t see the use in holding grudges and just sees it as a waste of energy. When a friendship ends over a mistake or a betrayal, they grieve the relationship and then try to let it go.

90. Does your oc have any objects they could never give up? Why is it so important to them? Do they have any family heirlooms?

They have a shoebox of random mementos, including a friendship bracelet and a note from their first girlfriend, a necklace given to them by their grandmother, rocks from the beach and pressed flowers, their first phone (a purple flip-phone), some photo negatives; just some things they feel attached to, some for inexplicable reasons.

92. What trait does your oc appreciate or admire the most in others? Why?

They appreciate passion in others. It doesn’t have to be something big, like Autumn’s love for theatre, Lucy’s desire to unmask the face of reality itself, or Donnacha’s love of flying, because they also recognise Henry’s insatiable hunger for discovering the good in people, and how their boss Jake carefully manages his staff despite the fact that coffee shop manager was never his dream or ideal job.

94. Does your oc rely more on a logical or emotional mindset? What situations would this be the opposite?

A bit of both, in that they would consider other people’s emotions and try to find a logical way to satisfy everyone’s needs (or as many people’s needs as possible). They might lean more heavily on logic if Payton themself was the only person involved and they had nothing else to go on.

96. Describe your oc in three words. What three words would they use to describe themselves?

My words: comfortable, endearing, and unforgettable. Their own words: hard-working, approachable, and (a little) annoying.

98. Is your oc the type to have a lot of fairly good friends, have a small group of close friends, have one or two best friends, or have no friends at all? Who are they closest to?

In school, they had no close friends, aside from their (then) girlfriend, mainly because they never felt like they fit into any of the cliques that kids tend to form. But they were still someone that classmates would occasionally talk to, they would still be invited to major parties, and would always find someone to sit with if they were in need of company. Aside from Autumn, they would say that Lucy is their closest friend, but after living with Henry and Donnacha for almost two years too, they would be extremely devastated if they lost them.

100. Does your character ever swear? How often? How vulgar is their swearing?

Payton doesn’t swear, which is pretty fucking unusual for one of my OCs, huh? (See what I did?)

[hellcaster901]

The Wedding

summary: Y/N is getting married in a few months, and its something that she’s been looking forward to for a while. But she runs into an old coworker, one that she just can’t help feel a connection to. Not only is her best friend not helping, but she’s trying to figure out now what she really wants.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT 

Author’s Note: I was having some really tough writers block for my story Leather Dreams and just started writing this. It’s supposed to be a ONE-SHOT, but if you guys are wanting to a second part, I can come up with something! I also used the same tag list from my Leather Dreams series for this one! Enjoy!

Masterlist

I turned in the mirror, looking down at the long white gown that trickled down like a waterfall, dripping over the small stand  I stood on. Out of the corner of my eye I could see my mom and best friend gush over the quality and beauty of the dress, but yet, it still didn’t seem like me.

“What do you think?” The stylist asked, flaring out the skirts. 

“I don’t know.” I answered honestly. Loving the way he fit my waist, but hating the way it made my breasts looked. I looked like I was almost from the 50s with how pointy my breasts were.

“What don’t you like about it?” The stylist asked, looking up at me. I could see the annoyance in her face. The way she got tired of how many dresses I was trying on. But this is her job, gotta keep her busy some how. 

It’s not that I didn’t like the design, the way the lace laid over the white skirt, and trailed up to the arms and bosom was gorgeous, it was simple yet elegant, but there was just something that wasn’t right.

“My boobs, look at them, I’m going to poke his eye out once I get up there.” I chuckled, running my hands over the very much padded dress. 

“You look fine darling.” My mom said, waving a hand. I could tell she was getting tipsy. The champagne they kept giving her was hitting her harder and harder each glass. 

“If you don’t like it, then look at another one.” Mary smiled, a simply shrugging at me. I bit the inside of my lip, nodding.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t think this is me.” I told the stylist.

“No problem!” The woman smiled, helping down from the stand, grabbing onto the trail and following me to the changing room.

***

“I don’t know why I can’t find a dress.” I sighed, lifting the bags onto the chair, sliding the tray of food onto the table. Mary sighed with me, sliding her bags onto the empty seat beside her. “They’re literally all gorgeous. I don’t get why none of them are catching my eye.” I reached for my slice of pizza, taking a giant bite. 

“Just none of them are what you are envisioning.” She chuckled, twisting a fork into her noodles.

“I didn’t envision anything.” I mumbled with a full mouth. “I didn’t want a big wedding.” I swallowed, crossing my arms over my chest. “Adam’s parents are paying for the wedding and Adam is just willing to let them make all the decisions for it.” Mary made a sound of disgust at Adam’s name. “Stop it.” I laughed, shaking my head.

“I just don’t think he’s the one for you. You can do much better than that pervert.” I rolled my eyes, taking another bite. “He’s a jerk and just doesn’t give much thought to you.” 

“Stop it Mary.” She’s done this before, almost tried to convince me when Adam proposed to say no. “I love him, and you literally can’t stop me from marrying him.” I told her, but it almost sounded like I was trying to convince myself. She rolled her eyes, stuffing a fork full of noodles in her mouth. “I’m going to get a refill.” I mumbled, grabbing my cup and heading to the soda fountain. 

I turned quickly once it was full, gasping as I shoulder checked the person behind me. “Oh my god.” The drink spilt slightly getting onto me and the leather jacket the man wore. “I am so sorry.” I chuckled awkwardly, looking up at the man. I was almost speechless as I saw who was towering over me. 

“Ah, don’t worry about it.” He reached for a napkin, wiping off the liquid. “Good thing it’s leather.” He joked, making eye contact with me. The realization that he knew me clicked, a smile spreading on his face. “Y/N?” 

“Yeah, oh my god, I haven’t seen you in forever Negan.” I smiled, setting down my cup. He wrapped a lean arm around my waist, a slight squeeze as a hug. “How have you been?” He shrugged, setting down his empty cup next to mine, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Oh you know, teaching is still a fucking mess.” He chuckled, that gorgeous smile sending chills down my back. “How about you?” He asked, gesturing a hand at me. “Heard you were getting married.” I nodded, almost feeling embarrassed.

“I am, in a couple months actually.” I smiled, covering my left hand with my hand. “Just tried to do some dress shopping and am not having the best of luck.” I chuckled awkwardly again, glancing at Mary. She stared at the two of us, her eyebrows raised, pointing at Negan. 

“Well, congratulations Y/N.” He smiled, reaching for his cup again. 

“Thank you.” I smiled, looking back at Mary who kept point and mouthing words at me. 

“You look absolutely great.” He added, looking over my form. I blushed, brushing back some of my hair. I watched as he took a little too long looking over me, his tongue coming out and swiping his bottom lip. I felt my chest tighten, nerves rushing at me. 

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” I smiled. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mary stand up, reading to walk over to us. “I should get going, can’t really leave my friend alone for too long.” I lightly joke, seeing a small smile formed on his lips. “I hope to see you soon.” He nodded, watching as I grabbed my cup, turning quickly on my heels and heading straight to Mary.

“Who was that?” Mary gasped, not tearing her eyes away from Negan. I glanced back, his muscular lean back towards us as he filled his cup. 

“That’s Negan.” I giggled, watching as he put a lid on his cup, walking back towards his table where another older man was sitting. We both watched as he sat down, slinging an arm over the empty chair next to him, bringing the straw up to his lips. I could see from the distance the way his throat moved as he swallowed. “Back when I was a substitute teacher, I substituted at the high school he works at.” We both watched shamelessly as he talked and drank his drink, the way he laughed or moved his hands with the man he was with. “I’m not sure who his friend is, but he must be a new teacher there.” 

“He is absolutely gorgeous.” Mary drooled. “A real silver fox.” I rolled my eyes, but kept on watching him from across the food court like creeps. He must’ve felt our eyes on him as he looked over at us, both of us scrambling to make it seem like we were looking at something else. I felt my cheeks grow hot, both Mary’s and I’s cheeks bright red. 

We broke out in a fit of giggles, ducking our heads down and staring at our plates. I took a glance back at Negan and his friend, both smiling and chuckling. Negan looked over at me, our eyes locking for a few seconds. I saw the smirk growing on his gorgeous mouth, sending a wink my way. 

“How did you not tap that?”

“He has a wife Mary.” I laughed, shaking my head. “Either way, I don’t think he’d go for someone half his age.”

***

“Drink Drink Drink Drink!” My friends chanted, watching as I took shot after shot, the liquid burning my throat as it flowed down. 

“No more, no more.” I coughed, shaking my head and waving my hands at the shots. “I can’t take another one.” My friends booed, all laughing as they saw me struggle. “That was way too much.” I laughed, standing up and tripping over my foot.

“You just took them, calm down.” Mary laughed over the music watching as I flipped her off, going to the bar. I sighed as I sat down, running a hand through my hair, fluffing it up and getting it out of my face. 

“Hey, can I just get some water.” I motioned to the bartender, she smiled at me, reaching under the counter and grabbing me a bottle. “Perfect, thank you.” I lifted my hair, reaching around and placing the water on my neck.

“Getting a little crazy over there, huh?” I glance a few seats down, seeing Negan sitting there, an elbow on the counter, a beer in his hand as he watched me. I chuckled, shaking my head. Of course I’d see him here.

“Hopefully not too crazy, I still wanna remember the night.” I joked. He watched as I twisted the cap off, taking a huge swig. “How about you?” I breathed deeply, the cold water rushing down. 

“Oh you know, trying to let some steam out.” He smirked, looking me up and down. I blushed a little bit, taking another drink from my water. “Pretty hellish day at work.”

“Those kids just not running those laps huh?” I laughed, he laughed with me, shaking his head. 

“Just a bunch of shitheads is all.” He sighed, running his left hand over his face. I noticed the lack of a wedding ring he had, my eyes widening slightly. I had to tell Mary. “How about you? We didn’t really get to talk before you ran off the other day.” He smiled. Before I could answer he got up from his seat, moving to the empty seat beside me. 

My heart was racing in my chest as he sat closer, and I could really see how handsome he was. When I knew him a few years ago he was handsome but now… he really was a silver fox. The grey weaves through his facial hair, that shit eating grin that he gave me hasn’t changed either. 

“I’m currently teaching at East High school. No longer a substitute.” I smiled proudly, my finger tracing the edges of the bottle, water coating the tip of my finger. Negan watched me, his eyes moving down to my lips, trailing over my body, down my legs and back up, our eyes meeting once again. 

“How’s your wife?” I panicked, trying to keep the dirty thoughts at bay, but also trying to control the wetness I began to feel between my thighs. Negan sighed, again running a hand over his face. 

“Divorced.” He dimpled said, a shrug and then a swig of his beer. 

“Guess she lost something good.” He looked up at me, a look in his eyes I haven’t seen before. 

“How long have you and your fiancé been together?” He asked, an eyebrow arched. I mentally kicked myself for moving the conversation to our significant others, not really wanting to talk about Adam to Negan. 

“About 2 years.” I pushed back some hair, noticing the way Negan looked over my neck. There was an undeniable tension between us. If it was either the alcohol or we’ve just grown as adults. Either way, I wanted him, and from the way he looked at me. He wanted me too. “He’s a contractor.” I added lamely, wincing at how awkward I am. Negan nodded, listening. 

“Y/N!” I looked back at the girls, seeing Mary standing there, squinting her eyes at me. She looked over at Negan, her eyes widening when she realized who it was. “Just let me know when you’re done.” She waved, a bashful smile on her face. Negan chuckled lowly, waving at her. I knew she blushed, waving back then sitting back down in her seat. 

“I should probably get back.” I stood from my seat, standing before Negan. My heels giving me a good couple of inches. “It’s been great talking to you.” I smiled, placing a hand on his arm, the cool leather cooling my sweaty palms. 

“Hopefully I get to see you again soon.” He smirked, placing his hand on top of mine. I tried to ignore the warmth from his hand, spreading through my fingers and up my arm. I nodded, slipping from his hand and getting back to the girls. 

Throughout the night I knew Negan was watching as I danced, drank, did anything. And every time I looked, our eyes met. 

In no time, I was no longer dancing for myself, letting the alcohol take over, moving my hips and swinging my arms above my head, moving my body for his eyes. 

This was surely something an engaged woman shouldn’t be doing, but the shots were clouding my judgment, and no one was stopping me. From the way Negan was now leaning against the bar, his legs spread and hooked on the railing, watching me closely, he knew what I was doing was for him. An unspoken connection that neither one of us wanted to break. 

“I don’t think he’s taken his eyes off of you this entire time.” Mary whispered into my ear, her body moving against mine. I nodded subtly, keeping my eyes away from him. “If you’re not going to mess around with him, I will.” She smirked. 

“I’m getting married.” I fought back weakly, shoving her shoulder lightly. “There’s not any messing around while I have this ring on.” I flashed her the ring, her eyes rolling.

“Live a little.” She smiled, throwing her arms over my shoulders, “You know you want to.” I looked over at him, the beer to his lips as he drank, his eyes trained on me. 

“I can’t Mary. I can’t do that to Adam.” I wanted to. I wanted Negan to just ruined me. But I couldn’t do that to Adam. Not months before my wedding. That internal war was waging, and one side was winning. 

“Who said Adam had to find out?” Mary whispered in my ear. I leaned back, looking at her. I knew she didn’t like Adam, and her convincing me, trying to convince me only proved how much she disliked him. I thought for a moment, glancing back at Negan than at Mary. 

“I’ll be back.” I whispered to her. A huge grin grew on her face as I pulled away from her, her hand landing a smack on my ass, a grin on both of our faces. I walked towards the bar, Negan watching me the whole time as I walked past him, sending him a flirty look as I got to the bathrooms. 

I checked the woman’s stall, keeping it unlocked as I stood before the mirror. “I'm an idiot. He’s not gonna come in here. He probably doesn’t even know what that fucking look meant.” I’m going to look like a complete idiot. I just know it. 

I jumped as the door of the bathrooms opened slightly, revealing Negan’s gorgeous face as he stood there. I stood with my back against the sink, staring at him as he walked in, shutting the door behind him, the small click of the door being locked ringing between us. I swallowed the lump in my throat, the alcohol in my system telling me to just jump him, but that small part telling me turn and run and go back to Adam. We stared at one another for a moment until he spoke.

“How come we’ve never hooked up before?” He whispered, taking steps towards me, looking at me like I was his prey. 

“You were married.” I whispered back, the nervousness and excitement evident in my voice as he got closer. He could hear it, the smirk on his face growing.

“And now?” he asked, stopping before me, snaking his hands behind me, leaning against the sink. He was inches away from me, his legs brushing against mine slightly, his breath hitting my face as we stared at one another, his hazel eyes watching over me. I took a deep breath, the smell of his leather, musk, and beer filling my senses. “You’re engaged.” I nodded, my breaths coming out swallower and swallower each second. “And you’re in the bathroom with someone who isn’t your fiance.”

“Are you trying to convince me to leave, or what?” The boldness was coming through, every atom in my body telling me to just unbuckle his pants and get down on my knees. “If that’s the case, I’ll leave right now.” He only smirked, pressing his body against mine, the evident bulge in his pants pressing against my hip. I shuddered, already feeling how huge he was. 

This was wrong in every way. I was getting married in 7 months, and I’m here, ready to risk it all for an older man I had a crush on a few years back. 

The tension between us was running high, his eyes looking over my face for any indication that I didn’t want to do this, and much to his surprise, he couldn’t find any. Without any words, he slammed his lips against mine.

And just like that, the dam broke.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, our kiss frantic and passionate as he grabbed my hips, pulling me harder against him, his thick bulge straining against his zipper, begging to be in me. I moaned as he held me, his tongue swiping across my bottom lip, asking for permission when he knew he already had it. I opened my mouth, our tongues clashing together, fighting for dominance, and without a doubt, I was ready and willing to be submissive to Negan in any shape or form. 

“You can back out now.” He mumbled against my lips, moving to my neck, peppering kisses along my jugular, his beard leaving behind a sting as he moved. “We can act like this never happened.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself, trying to keep his distance from me. His lips attached to the soft point where my neck met my shoulder, tugging a low moan from my lips. He pulled back, staring down at me with plump red lips, a devilish look to him. “I’m serious Y/N.” He let me think, let me decide my options, but as of right now, I couldn’t of anything else other than getting him balls deep in me.

“Fuck me, and we can worry about the consequences later.” I whispered to him, moving my hand to his hair and tugging firmly. The devilish smirk came across his face, showing his white teeth.

“That’s my girl.” And with that, we were a mess of hands and lips. Each of us trying to kiss one another, our hands rushing to remove clothes that no business staying between us. I slid my hands under his leather jacket, pushing it over his shoulders, the metal loops clinking against the tile. I moaned as I felt the muscles in his back flex as I moved my hands, the thin black shirt no doing any justice in hiding him. “Do you know how hard it was not to fuck you every second at the school.” He moaned against my ear, his teeth scraping my earlobe, a chill running down my back at his words. “How hard it was not to bend you over each and every desk and fill you with my cum.” 

“Jesus Negan.” I moaned, tiling my head to give him more access.

“Everytime I saw you in one of those fucking skirts-” his hips thrusted against my hip, a low moan leaving his plump lips. “-And seeing you bend over in those, I had to jerk myself off to the sight in my office.” I gasped, his words sending moisture straight to my cunt. I couldn’t even respond as he turned me around, my back pressing against his chest, both of us looking in the mirror, his mouth attached to my neck. “How bad I wanted to have you ride me in my office, bouncing on my lap.”

“Negan, please.” I whimpered, arching my back, pushing my breasts out for his eyes. He greedly accepted, his hands moving up and  grabbing onto my breasts, a low, deep moan leaving his lips.

“What do you want?” He whispered into my ear, our eyes locking onto one another through the mirror. “Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.” I watched as his hands moved from my breasts, down to my pants, messing with the button and the zipper, teasingly pulling it down. “Tell me Y/N.”

“I want your cock.” I whimpered, his fingers trailing the skin the peaked out from my shirt. “Please Negan, I need you.” I sounded desperate, and that’s exactly what Negan wanted. His fingers worked quick as he unbuttoned my pants, tugging at the zipper and tugging them down my legs, leaving me in my black undies. I slipped my shoes off, kicking my pants off as he cupped my sex. I moaned loudly, throwing my head back onto his shoulder, his thin fingers rubbing against my clothed cunt. 

“You’re fucking soaked.” He moaned, dipping his fingers into the waistband of my panties, brushing past the small bush and instantly dripping a finger between my folds. “Holy shit.” I gasped as he rubbed my clit, his fingers touching every and any spot he could reach. I planted my hands against the sink, arching against Negan, my ass rubbing on his thick bulge. 

“Don’t stop, don’t stop.” I begged, gasping as he traveled lower, sliding a long finger into my entrance. I moaned loudly like a bitch in heat.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He moaned, thrusting his finger into me, adding another finger in, stretching me out for his cock. I was a whimpering mess against him, bucking against his body as he fingered me, his hand becoming covered in my juices. He pulled his hand away, a whimper leaving my lips as I watch him bring it up to his mouth, sucking his finger. My mouth hung open as I watched him, his eyes shut, his mouth latching onto his finger. He was enjoying it, and it was only making me wetter. 

“You taste so fucking sweet.” And like an animal, he grabbed at my clothes, yanking my black panties down, tugging my shirt over my head and leaving me in only my matching black bra.

“I don’t think this is fair.” I chuckled lowly, watching as he greedily grabbing at me, touching every part of my body.

“How come?” He mumbled in my ear, trailing kisses down to my shoulder.

“You still have all your clothes on.” I smirked, biting down onto my bottom lip. I felt him smile against my shoulder, his hands leaving my body as he took a step back.

“Go ahead.” He smirked. I turned instantly, staring up at him as he smirked, holding his arms out, letting me do what I needed to do. I grabbed onto his shirt, tugging him closer, clashing my lips against his.His large hands wrapped around my waist, holding me to him as we kissed, his thin lips moving against mine. 

I couldn’t help feeling that this was right. That this, being here with him in this dirty bathroom, was right. 

I moaned pulling away, tugging his black shirt over his head, throwing it onto our pile of clothes. I breathed deeply, looking over his chest. Negan was a thin man, but he was lean, anyone could tell from one look of him that he could fight if he needed to. 

With a wink at Negan, I lowered myself to my knees, Negan cursing at the sight before him. I bit my bottom lip, undoing his belt, ripping it off and throwing it to the side as I got to his zipper and unbuttoned his pants. He leaned forward, holding himself up on the sink, watching as I teasley pulled his pants down, hooking my fingers onto the boxer briefs he had on. 

“Oh my god.” I mumbled to myself, watching as his cock sprang free from his pants, bobbing up and down. I looked up at Negan, seeing the smug look on his face. He knew he was well gifted with such a cock, and me being surprised only boosted his ego. He quickly stepped out of his pants that pooled at his ankles, kicking them to the side in a hurry.

I wrapped a hand around the base, his cock twitching at the connect, an animalistic growl from Negan as I pumped him. Without warning, I leaned forward, stuffing as much of his cock as I could into my mouth, my hand pumping what I couldn’t fit.

“Jesus Christ.” He moaned, a hand coming to the back of my head, gripping onto my hair tightly. I bobbed on his cock, the tip hitting the back of my throat, gagging as keep him deep in my throat. I pulled back with a gasp, a thin line of spit connecting my bottom lip to the tip of his pulsing cock. I worked my hands over his length, moving my spit around to coat him, the wet sound becoming music to my ears. I took a deep breath, going back and deep throating him. “Fuck, Y/N.” He moaned, pushing my head further down on his cock, his hips thrusting. I gagged, keeping my place as he held my head still, thrusting his cock into my mouth. “Jesus your mouth feels so fucking good.” 

He pulled his cock out with a pop, air rushing to my lungs, spit covering his cock and dripping down my chin. He reached down, lifting me up and setting me on the sink, the cold feeling great against my warm body. He leaned down, kissing me harshly and roughly, his hand stroking himself. “If you kept going, I would’ve busted in your mouth.” He chuckled, a smile finding its way onto my face. “I’d rather cum in this tight pussy.” My eyes widen, watching as he got down onto his knees, spreading my legs apart. “God, look at you.” He praised, reaching up and gliding a finger through my lips. I threw my head back, hitting the mirror, moaning at his fingers. “Fucking soaked.” I looked back down at him, watching him gather my juices on his finger, sucking my taste off. With a smirk, he leaned forward, dragging the flat of his tongue over my cunt.

“Oh my god.” I gasped, reaching down and lacing my hand through his hair. I tugged harshly against the strands, earning a moan from him, vibrating against my soaked center. He licked at me, swallowing my juices, wrapping his lips around my clit, letting his tongue work magic against me. “Jesus Christ.” I moaned, the sex god himself looked up at me, a mischievious look in his eyes as he continued to eat me. He moved his head side to side, sucking onto my clit. I felt my legs shaking, my thighs closing around his head as I felt the growing bundle in my stomach ready to explode.

“Negan.” I cried, feeling the waves crashing through my body. My hips bucking against his face, my legs shaking as he guided me through my climax, lapping up my cum that slipped from my dripping cunt. Negan pulled away, his tongue licking around his lips, the hair on his chin glistening from my juices. I watched as he smirked, using the back of his hand to wipe away at his mouth. He stood, a smirk on his face as he towered over me, pushing himself between my thighs, his large hands rubbing and grabbing at the them. I was breathing heavily, watching as he studied me, looked over my body. He was taking mental pictures of me as I sat there, legs spread, needy and willing to take his cock.

“You want this?” he asked, wrapping a large hand around his cock. I looked down, groaning at how red the tip was, precum leaking out. I watched as he reached up, his thumb collecting the liquid and rubbing it over his cock. I nodded, drooling at the sight before. “Nuh uh.” Negan smirked, hooking a finger under my chin, lifting me to look at him. “Use your words, baby girl. Do you want this?” He asked, taking a step closer, rubbing the head of his tip against my clit, slapping it down. I jerked against him, whimpering.

“Yes Negan. I want your cock. Please.” I begged, spreading my legs wider, a smirk on my face as Negan groaned, looking down between us. “I need you to fill me up.” With a growl he wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me to the edge of the sink, lining himself up to my entrance. 

“We can stop now.” He reminded me, looking down at me. “Act like it never fucking happened and-” I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling me to me. He thrusted into me, both of us groaning loudly. His cock stretching me, the slight pain only mixing with pleasure.

“Shut up and fuck me.” I whispered into his ear. 

“Fucking dirty girl.” He smiled, slowly pulling out, leaving the tip in me and thrusting back in. A small scream left my lips, the girth and size of him stretching me wider and better than I’ve ever been stretched before. “Holy shit, your so fucking tight.” He groaned, grabbing a hold of the back of my head, keeping me to him as he buried his head into my neck, and his cock in my cunt. A string of ‘please’ left my mouth, the tip of his cock hitting my g-spot each and every thrust. 

We both breathed deeply, our moans and breaths mixing together, sweat rolling down our backs as he completely let ourselves go to the feeling of one another. 

Negan slid his arms under my legs, hooking my knees on his arm, tugging me closer to him, holding me as I sat on the edge of the sink, spreading me even wider for his cock, hitting deeper than before. “Negan.” I cried, feeling almost like he was splitting me in half, and if that’s the way I go out, that’s the way I go. 

“Take it baby, Take this cock.” he moaned into my ear, thrusting harder. The sound of skin slapping filling the air. I knew by the end of this, this bathroom was going to be smelling like sex. “Finally being in this pussy feels like fucking heaven.” He moaned, thrusting hard, his balls slapping against my ass. 

“Don't stop, Negan.” I cried, feeling the growing climax in my stomach. “Please, don’t fucking stop, You feel so fucking good.” I begged, wrapping my arms around his neck, digging my nails into his back. He groaned, thrusting harder as I dug my nails in. “I want you to cum in me.” I whispered in his ear, Negan’s thrust losing rhythm, a guttural sound coming from him.

“Don’t fucking temp me.” He growled in my ear, his hands on my hips tightening. I pulled back, moving his head to look at me. He breathed deeply, hard breaths coming out and fanning over my chest.

“Fill me up with your cum. I want it.” I pleaded, clenching around his cock. He moaned, pulling out. “What?” I gasped, a small yelp leaving my lips as he grabbed my hips, flipping me around, bending me over the sink.

“Take my cock like a good girl,and you’ll get this cum.” He whispered into my ear, our eyes locking through the mirror. I nodded, watching as he stood up, grabbing onto his cock and sliding right back into me. 

We both moaned at the different angel, his cock getting deeper, my pussy clenching around his thickness as he pumped himself. He reached up, both hands grabbing onto my shoulders as he began moving, thrusting harder than before. “Fuck.” I gasped loudly, Negan’s hand coming up and covering my mouth. I watched as he lost himself in me, his eyes shut, his stomach flexing as he fucked me, his arms holding onto me as he brought both of us closer and closer to our sweet release. My legs shaking as I stood myself up, my body tensing as I felt the waves of my orgasm coming.

“You gonna cum for me?” Negan asked, his thrust hitting each and every spot. “Gonna come all over my cock, aren’t you baby girl?” I nodded, his mouth still covering my mouth as he began losing his rhythm. My pussy clenched around his cock, my ograsm ripping through me, my moans muffled from his hand as I bucked against him. “Holy shit baby.” He groaned, low deep growls as his cock twitched in me, releasing his cum into me, coating my walls in white. “Fuck fuck fuck.” Negan growled, his fingers digging into my shoulder as he pumped his cum into me. I trembled against him, my eyes rolling to the back of my head as the waves of my orgasm crashing through me, the way he filled me and the way he kept thrusting made my head spin. Negan fell against me, his sweaty chest sticking to my back as we tried to catch our breaths.

I felt like I was on cloud 9, almost like my whole body was simply weightless as I stood there, bent over the sink, with man taking a quick rest on my back. 

We stood like that for a few moments, letting each other collect ourselves. I whimpered as Negan stood, his limp cock sliding from me, the empty feeling being replaced with his cum slowly leaking out of me. “God damn, you’re looking like a fucking pornstar.” I looked at him through the mirror, the proud look on his face at the mess he made of me. I rolled my eyes, picking myself up, moaning at the soreness in my thighs. I turned leaning against the sink, watching as Negan grabbed his pants and underwear, tugging them on. He glanced at me as he fixed his belt, a smug smirk on his face. He closed the gap between us, leaning down and placing a kiss on my lips. It wasn’t like before where it was rush and heated, more of a reassuring kiss, letting me know that this wasn’t going to be far from his mind in a while. He pulled away with a smirk, reaching down and grabbing my clothes, setting them on the sink. I watched as he grabbed my shirt, fixing it and holding it up by the shoulders. “Arms up.” he smirked. I giggled as I did what he asked, lifting my arms, Negan sliding the shirt and dressing me. He gave me a small smile down at me, watching as I reached for my panties tugging them on and then tugging my pants up. 

I tried to ignore the fact his cum was now dripping into my underwear, but also the fact there wasn’t any awkwardness between us. It almost felt like what was going on was natural, that we’ve done this a million times before. He quietly watched as I grabbed my shoes slipping them, watching my every move.

“So what now?” He asked, watching as I stood before the mirror, fixing myself. I sighed, the guilty feeling settling in, the fact that I just cheated on Adam filing my thoughts. I turned towards him, his thin tall figure leaning against the door, the leather jacket back on, a look of pure satisfaction on his face. 

“I don’t know.” 

~~~~~

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[operaghostnocturne]

The Problem with ‘Love Never Dies.’

“Love Never Dies,” 2012 Starring Ben Lewis as The Phantom, Anna O'Byrne as Christine, watched on Youtube, 4/24/2020 SPOILERS.  I would like to note: I enjoyed the set design, costume design, some of the music, and production of this version of Love Never Dies.  I also really liked the actor’s performances.  They did a good job.  I especially loved Ben Lewis’s singing voice.  (Derrick Davis ((US Restaged Tour)) is still my favorite.) The problem with Love Never Dies is its a sequel to Phantom of the Opera, the characterization, and writing. ALW’s Phantom of the Opera stands alone. It was never meant to have a sequel.  It really doesn’t need one.  I do feel there is a big disconnect between POTO and LND. I think LND could be rewritten to have nothing to do with the original POTO and would not suffer for it. To me, LND feels like someone’s fixit fanfic that doesn’t actually fix anything.  POTO is also insanely iconic.  It is hard to follow it up. While LND’s music is pretty good, I don’t think its nearly as memorable nor iconic as POTO’s.  I also don’t feel it balanced original POTO music with new material.  Honestly, it needs to pick one. Something ALW does in his musicals is reuses the notes of a song, mixed in a different pattern to make a new one.  “The Music of the Night” and “All I Ask of You” are like this (look at sheet music if you don’t believe me.)  This is not a complaint.  This helps with cohesion of a musical.  It also makes refrains, duets with battling music, and sometimes even story, clearer. When its done well, its unnoticeable. In fact, I got to play a POTO compilation in a semi-professional concert orchestra in high school.  I never noticed ALW does this until when someone pointed it out to me like a month ago.  In LND, I can constantly hear the rifts from the first musical, to the point where I think one of those songs is about to start, or it gets super distracting.  I noticed this especially in ‘Why Does She Love Me?’  I’m 80% sure it was based of POTO’s main theme (like the song ‘Phantom of the Opera,’ or the ‘Overture.’)  Again, I liked most of the music in LND.  But it doesn’t hold a candle to POTO. oh look I made a pun. Having said that all that: LND feels like a sequel mostly to 2004.  In my opinion, 2004 has the most sympathetic version of the Phantom, and the one that could most likely end up with Christine in the end.  Especially compared to the US Restaged Tour.  In 04, I also feel like the Phantom and Christine (not their actors) feel closer in age than other productions of the musical, other Phantom adaptations, and even the book.  (For those who don’t know: Erik is 50-60 in the book, Christine is like, 16.) LND’s writing is not great.  First of all: THE PHANTOM’S NAME IS ERIK. I know they were trying to have a MYSTERY pun. Mister Y does not work for that, especially in a format that ISN’T BEING. READ.  I can understand why its left out in POTO, as it lends the Phantom some mystery (though I do not like it.) There is LITERALLY no reason not to have the Phantom called Erik it LND. Granted, this is a complaint I have from POTO too.  I kinda feel like the Phantom not having a name dehumanizes him. That is a discussion for another day. I absolutely HATE that the Phantom runs a circus company.  A big part of Erik’s trauma comes from being in a freak show.  I don’t believe Erik would be willing to go back to that.  I also don’t think it would be his scene.  The Phantom of the Opera belongs in an Opera house, or at the very least a music all. I don’t know why he couldn’t have started something like that instead of a freak show.  Or perhaps be an eccentric composer. Especially if he is getting help from the Giry’s.   I do think its fitting that he’s working with/employing disabled, or deformed people, and other societal outcasts.  However, being the owner of the VERY THING that treated him horribly is pretty bad, especially since we don’t know if he treats these people any better than he was treated. Also, every time the music switched to ‘show tunes,’ I felt Erik’s soul dying.  On that note, when LND shifts from a musical to addressing the audience directly in its ‘show tunes’ sections, its jarring.  It breaks the fourth wall way too much and really pulls the audience out of whats going on.  The way Erik is in POTO, chased away from the world and the light, is why he is like he is.  He became fascinated with the night, the macabre and darkness because of his experiences with the world. That’s a pretty big point in POTO.  Its one of the things that make him sympathetic. After all “THE WORLD SHOWED NO COMPASSION TO ME!” is the Phantom’s excuse in the final lair. LND tramples over that.  Gustave seems to be interested in the same darkness his biological father is, as seen in “The Beauty Beneath.”  Erik’s obsession with the dark, night, and macabre is turned into genetics.  Which is pretty bad for Gustave if you think too hard about it. Erik is a serial killer.  I do believe talent can be passed in genetics.  I also think the way we view said talent and how we use it is shaped by personal experiences and preferences.  On that note, Gustave could have gotten his musical abilities from his mother, or his grandfather, both of whom are also talented musicians.   Another thing LND suffers from, is making Christine a prize again. Raoul and Erik do not see her as a person.  ‘Devil Take the Hindmost’ is literally the boys having a dick measuring contest, with Christine as the prize.  That is not okay. I hated the ending. For several reasons.  First of all, the Phantom is still abusive.  He is a puppet master. He is still not capable of having a healthy relationship with Christine.   Secondly, Christine dies. ALW, if you are gonna write a fixit fic the LEAST you could do is let Erik be happy.  Plus, Christine is killed by a cliche ‘I just wanted you to notice me’ subplot. One that wasn’t entirely well set up or thought out.  Which is disappointing and frustrating.  Last two things I hated: when Christine kisses Erik for the last time, she doesn’t take off his mask.  I feel like they missed a good opportunity to show Christine being completely accepting of who Erik is, including what he looks like (again, would be better if Erik wasn’t abusive.)  I also NEVER like it when we don’t get to see Erik’s deformity in any version of Phantom.  The only other one that doesn’t I’ve seen/read is Dance. (Which I dislike greatly. Its at the bottom of my list.)  I’m kinda good either way if Gustave goes with Erik or Raoul (preferably neither, if I get a choice, which I don’t.)  Erik and Gustave can connect over music in a way Raoul and Gustave cannot. Erik can teach Gustave about music and the beauty beneath. Raoul did raise Gustave.  Raoul might also have a serious heart change after the events of LND that we are not shown.  Or we can do that one AU where Raoul and Erik become Gustave’s two dad’s (either gay or not, whatever floats your boat.)

The worst thing about LND is it completely ignores the character growth in its predecessor. Characters completely regress into who they were before the ending of POTO.  This is annoying and bad writing. Lets start with Meg and Madame Giry.  I don’t like that Madame Giry is helping Erik. Yes, she helped him escape the freak show in 2004 (and possibly other versions.) BUT, she was also absolutely TERRIFIED of the Phantom in POTO.  She helped Raoul find the Phantom’s Lair, with the full knowledge that Raoul intended to put a stop to Erik’s madness.  I think it would be more likely that Madame Giry would stay as far away as Erik as she possibly could. Madame Giry also feels like a secondary greedy villain in LND, and that feels WAY off base for her. Maybe Erik being manipulative has rubbed off on her? Again, I don’t think she would be in this position in the first place (nor would Erik be manipulative, because I see him as realizing he DUN HECKED UP at the end of POTO). Meg, I could see wanting to help the Phantom (she even does in some versions.)  I see this as her being enthralled by the legend of the Phantom, and less that they actually know each other. As for her loss of innocence, I don’t think it was set up well, nor was it executed well. Also, Meg wanting the Phantom to see her is a cliche. Cliches can be okay, if they are handled well. I don’t think LND wrote it well. The only person I feel that has consistent characterization from POTO is Raoul (well, a specific version of it.)  I have always been of the opinion that Raoul is a jerk.  Having him spiral into gambling and drinking after a traumatic event is not surprising.  Could be something that was always there, could be PTSD.  Who knows, it wasn’t really talked about beyond Raoul feeling sorry for himself, and him being frustrated that he can’t connect to Christine on a musical level. Christine’s arc in POTO was about taking back her own power and becoming her own person. Of letting go of the past and moving forward.  This is thrown out. She is once again caught between two men in a dick measuring contest, both of which are trying to manipulate her to one side or the other, completely powerless.  This time, there really wasn’t a way for her to get it back. I feel like she felt obligated to sing for the Phantom, even without Gustave’s life being threatened, and the Phantom’s manipulation is what made Raoul leave  (Granted, I think Raoul leaving makes sense in the context of LND.)  Christine has no agency in LND. Finally, the ending of POTO is what redeems Erik.  He is the one with the biggest character arc and character growth. He learns the most.  I do believe he had a genuine heart change at the end of POTO.  What happened wasn’t what he wanted, but it was what he needed to become a better person, and start moving past his trauma. Ignoring that is a big mistake. Yet, in LND, he is back to being an arrogant, abusive, manipulative, puppet master.  Sometimes, I can see small pieces of character growth. He seems less bothered by his appearance, and maybe slightly more mature. Though, even these glimpses are often overshadowed or ignored in the next scene.   LND is NOT continuation of the characters we met in POTO. Much of the writing that connects LND with POTO is meh.  Honestly, in some ways it feels like less a sequel and more its very own adaption of Phantom. Which is half its problem.