#my brain doesn’t click the way i thought it would with other people

[wibble-wobbegong]

i need to meet another schizo and see if our neurodivergency clicks the way the other ones click with each other . im Failing at being nd bro

[not-neverland06]

Hey! Love your writing and love Flux!! I was hoping to request a kind of angsty/fluffy fic with the worst!wolverine where the meet her in the void and maybe Logan knew her just not very well and he’s finally letting himself open up and be close with her (likewise with reader/flux towards logan) and they get into an argument or maybe logan has a nightmare and he ends up stabbing her with his claws and maybe the aftermath of him beating himself up and sabotaging the new relationship until reader finally snaps him out of it and says it was an accident and she still loves him?? Thanks!!

mistake

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

a/n: I want to thank you for this request because I've been having the worst writer's block in the world. I was worried about having to go into another unofficial hiatus, but this made something in my brain click together and I knocked it out in two hours. my life is yours 🙏🙏 Summary: You know him. Or, you knew him. And you never blamed him for what happened in your world. It wasn't his fault that everyone you loved died and you barely escaped with your life. But you never actually thought you'd have to see him again. You don't know what to do when all these feelings resurface with his appearance.

No one truly knew who you were back in your universe. After the horrific incident at the mansion, you had run. You’d run as fast and as far as you could from the slaughter of your friends. You’d barely escaped with your life, and from the amount of blood and gore they’d left behind, most people just assumed you were dead. 

It’s not like anyone cared about you. Scott, Ororo, and Jean had been the real heroes. But it didn’t matter because they were still mutants at the end of the day. It didn’t matter how many people they saved. How many lives they positively changed, no one would ever see past the fact that they were mutants. 

Being one of the newer members of the recently disbanded X-Men gave you enough anonymity to get through daily life without being recognized. It did not, however, protect you from being sucked into the shit fest that is the multiverse. 

You’re not sure what it is about you that just attracts bad luck. You don’t know if it’s some hidden power that’s a part of your evolution. You’re just apparently perpetually fucked. The TVA had determined that you were interfering with the proper flow of your timeline or some bullshit. 

Now you’re here. Stuck in the void with nothing but decay and drunk former superheroes. If you have to watch one more Captain America ‘rally the troops’ you’re gonna kill him yourself. You’ve considered switching teams and joining Cassandra Nova at times. If only so you don’t have to deal with Johnny Storm and the rest of the dipshits. 

You get along with Laura, at least. She likes to tell you about her Logan and you like to dodge her questions about yours. She doesn’t need to know that not every version of Wolverine has a golden heart and story worthy of tears. Yours was a fuck up, plain and simple, but you never thought the incident was his fault. 

As much as others tried to push the blame on him. The people who raided the mansion were determined. There was no other way that day was going to end up. You’d just have one less X-Man. But people always love a martyr more than a victim. 

After a couple of years, you get used to the monotony. Your days are only occasionally broken up by dodging Cassandra’s henchmen and trying not to get sucked up into the soul destroyer. Other than that, you spend your nights getting drunk with Gambit and pretending you know whatever the fuck he’s talking about. 

“Laura! I managed to find some chocolate!” You run into the hideout looking for the girl. It’s rare to find good food that isn’t already a month past its expiration date. You weren’t planning on sharing the candy with her but you figured she’d smell it on you and it’s not worth the fight. 

Instead, you stop short as the familiar blue and yellow uniform you’d always try to force on him comes into view. He’s stealing Gambit’s liquor and you know that’s not going to go over well. What you don’t know is why you are so sure that this is your Wolverine. 

You’ve never had a Wolverine in the void. Not once. This could be any one of the hundreds of thousands of variants. But you see that look in his eye. That familiar watery gaze shows just how much he hurts, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. 

“Logan?” You breathe his name out in disbelief. Bypassing the Deadpool standing nearby. You’ve dealt with enough of those in your time down here. He takes a step back, fixing you with a distrusting look. 

He keeps the bottle of alcohol clutched close to his chest like he thinks you’re going to take it. You track the movement and you scoff. “Right,” you shake your head and stop short. “Of course, the only thing you care about is still getting fucking drunk.”

He glares at you, taking a step forward like he thinks it might actually intimidate you. “Do I know you, bub?” He reaches forward, probably to jab his finger in your chest. You drop your gaze to his outstretched hand and narrow your eyes. 

The material of his suit fluctuates, pulling back and rippling over his arms like liquid and not spandex. He doesn’t notice the manipulation of matter until it's his skin you target. It melts off his adamantium bones and he stares down in horror. 

You know he's scared because he’s watching his body dissolve but he’s not feeling any pain. You could make it hurt, but that’s not what you want. You just want to see if he’ll remember you now. If there’s anything half-decent left in that alcohol-rotted brain of his.

“Flux,” he grits your X-Man name out through his teeth like it hurts him to say it. 

You nod and his skin and suit go back to normal, like you’d never tampered with it in the first place. “You do remember me, then?”

“Thought you fucking died with the rest of them.” Your face drops before you feel an astonished smile on your face. 

“You know, it’s a comfort to know nothing about my world has changed. You’re still the same spineless dick that left us all to die.” You shake your head and storm out of the hideout. You don’t know how long they’re planning on staying but you pray they leave soon. If you have to deal with him longer than a week, you’ll just kill him. 

You step outside just as Laura’s coming back from the bonfire. She greets you with a stiff smile and you wonder what’s got in her in a mood. It only takes a glance over her shoulder to find the reason.

Logan is sulking by the fire, nursing yet another bottle of whiskey. He’s drinking it like water and even with his healing, his liver should have turned to mush by now. “I can see why you didn’t tell me about him,” she mutters as she passes by you. 

You know she tried to be quiet but you can see the way Logan’s head tilts slightly towards you. He’s heard her and you know it has to sting just a little.

You glance down at the leaves under your feet, eyes glazing over as you feel the guilt sink into your stomach. You shouldn’t feel bad, you didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t hurt him, technically, just reminded him who you were. But you still feel bad for what you said. 

You’ve never blamed Logan for what happened. And if you did, you would be a hypocrite. Because you survived too, and you left them all behind. You ran like a coward. You could never blame him when you failed to save them just the same. 

You take in a deep breath and steel yourself. You’ll just apologize, walk over there, and explain to him you didn’t mean what you said. You know he’ll be a dick about it. Claiming he doesn’t want your apology. You’ll just leave him alone after. 

You’re about to step forward when he barks out a gruff command, “Don’t fucking stare at me like that. I don’t want your company.” He turns back to the fire and takes another swig from his bottle. 

You roll your eyes and walk towards him. “You can be as miserable and self-pitying as you want, just let me say one thing.”

His head whips towards you so quickly you’re surprised you don’t hear it snap. “I’m not fucking pitying myself,” he grits out. You quirk your brows in amusement, glancing towards the bottle in his hand and the clear way he’s sulking. He turns his attention back towards the fire, intent on ignoring you again. 

“I don’t blame you for what happened,” you tell him. You ignore the warning look he shoots you, taking a seat beside him even if he doesn’t want you to. “I-” you choke on the words, struggling to admit to yourself what you’ve never wanted to. 

“Don’t.” You know it’s meant to be a warning. But when you look at him and see how completely broken he is, it sounds more like a pathetic plead. 

But you need to say this. As selfish as it is, you need to say this to someone., Need to unload this guilt you’ve carried for so long. “I was there, Logan. I could have saved them and I didn’t. I fucking ran.”

“Kid, don’t do this-”

“Jean was still moving,” you blurt out. You feel the way your heart speeds up at the admission. Your fingers shake and the air around you stills. 

His face drops and he slowly turns towards you. You’re afraid to look at him. You feel like a bunny staring down the snout of a wolf, there’s no escaping this. You’ve created this trap for yourself. 

“What?” He demands. His voice has lost that tremor of vulnerability. Instead, he sounds like he did when he first found out what had happened to you all. That same deadly level of calm that makes you want to bolt again. 

“She,” you stare into the fire until your eyes burn. You don’t know if it’s from the light or the smoke but the pain focuses you. “She was shaking on the floor. There was blood everywhere and she could barely breathe. They had gassed us with something. None of us could use our powers, it’s the only reason they got a one-up on us.”

You can feel yourself slipping back into that moment. You feel the warmth of the blood on your skin. It seeps into your suit and makes the material cling to you. Your gut is split open and the only thing holding your intestines in is your hands. 

Jean is in front of you. Her hands are twitching by her sides. There’s blood pouring out of her lips, dribbling down her tongue and cheeks. Every breath is a rattle so deep you feel it in your bones. 

Each inhale sounds like someone dragging glass through the membrane of her lungs. Her chest rises and sinks shallowly as she gasps for air. She’s practically convulsing, eyes twitching every which way.

The gas has faded from the halls. The people have left, satisfied with the carnage. You’re alone, surrounded only by the blood and bodies of your friends. None of the others are moving. Some of them are so mangled you can’t even tell who they are anymore. 

Jean’s eyes lock onto yours. The only anchor she has. And you can see it, the frantic, wounded animal gaze on her face. She knows she’s dying. She knows there’s nothing she can do about it. 

You can only stand by and watch as your friend dies. You could be her comfort. You could be the last face she sees before she dies, distracting her from the sight of her dead fiancee behind her. 

But what do you do?

You hold your guts in your stomach and you run. You can’t look at her. You can’t look at any of them. You can hear her croaking behind you. And even when you’re out of the mansion, when you’re in a hospital somewhere getting repaired and Logan’s on a rampage, you still hear her. 

You feel something heavy on your arm and it’s like you're being forcibly dragged out of a trance. Logan’s looking at you with something you’ve never seen before. But it’s something you’ve always desperately craved. 

It’s like he’s seeing you, really seeing you. For the first time in a long time, you feel that ache of guilt ease away ever so slightly. It doesn’t disappear, but you’re sharing the burden with someone else and it’s a relief you’ve desperately craved. 

“You’re not a bad person for leaving, kid.” He swallows roughly and you place your hand over his. He doesn’t look completely comfortable with the touch, slightly flinching away from it, but he doesn’t move. “If you hadn’t, you would be dead.”

You squeeze his hand, forcing him to meet your gaze. “I never blamed you for what happened.” emotion is so thick on your tongue and in your throat that the words come out a whisper. “Their deaths weren’t your fault, and what happened after wasn’t.”

He clenches his eyes shut and jerks his hand out of your grip. You sigh, knowing you’ve lost him. “I slaughtered them.”

You scoff, “They slaughtered us!” You nearly shout, anger bubbling hot in your gut. When you heard about him killing those who had hunted down your friends, you’d celebrated. And when you heard the way the public was crucifying him, you realized that no matter what you did they would never love you. 

You would always be nothing more than a mutant to them. 

“And the people who didn’t hurt them? The innocents I killed?” 

You don’t have anything to say to that. You just stand up, placing a hand on his shoulder as you pass by him. “I never blamed you, Logan.”

You don’t see Logan again after that. At least, not while you’re in the void. What was left of your little resistance was sucked up into the purple cloud of death. Only you and Laura are left with the carnage. 

Logan and Wade have disappeared to who knows where. It stings, to be on your own again. Sure, you have Laura, but she’ll never understand the pain of what happened to your universe. 

As much as it hurt, at least with Logan, you had someone to share the pain with. You could share your burden with him. You feel lonely and cold. Like there’s a part of you missing. You finally figure out what that ache is when the TVA comes to collect you and you see him again. 

He’s standing behind Wade as he enthusiastically tells you and Larua all about his world. But you can’t take your eyes off Logan, or the tentative smile on his face. Whatever had happened during that fight with Cassandra Nova had changed him, for the better. 

You smile back at him and it feels like taking a breath of fresh air after years. 

Apparently, whoever this world’s Flux had been, she was fucking insanely rich. And dead, which sucked for her but was great for you and Logan. 

It’s not hard for you to fake some government identities and explain that you’d been mistakenly marked as dead. It’s apparently pretty common in this universe. Superheroes are blipped out of existence all the time. You couldn’t get all of her assets as some had been liquidated, but you did get her giant ass house. 

You let Logan and Laura stay with you until they decide where they want to go. It’s better than living with Wade and his coke-fiend roommate. Laura finds her groove pretty quickly, it is her world after all. But you and Logan struggle to figure out what to do with yourselves. 

Neither of you has an interest in being X-Men again, and it seems like they’re not incredibly present in this world either. You also hadn’t been the best of friends, even before everything went wrong, back home. 

You’re not strangers, you’re not friends, you’re that awkward place in between. Each day is another opportunity to get to know each other. The progress might be slow, but you know that you’re getting closer to something real. 

It’s why you don’t feel any qualms about running into his room when you hear him shouting. You burst into his room and the door slamming against the wall isn’t even enough to wake him up. 

He’s writhing around in the bed, sheets twisted around his waist while sweat beads down his forehead. The noises he’s making remind you of a wounded animal. There’s something heartbreaking about this. 

He doesn’t get peace even when he’s sleeping. It makes you hurt for him. You want to smooth over the aches and pains he carries and burden yourself with them. 

The thought snaps you out of your reverie and you’re shocked by the revelation. You’d been growing closer to him, but you hadn’t thought you were growing this close. You feel so strongly for him, but you’re not ready to put a name on what it is that you feel for him. You just know that right now you want to make him feel better. 

You approach the bed cautiously, taking a seat beside him. The bed ripples and jolts underneath you as he tosses and turns. You place a gentle hand on his arm and shake, “Logan,” you whisper. You don’t want to startle him too bad. 

But he’s not responding to anything. It doesn’t matter how much you shake him or call out his name. Finally, you can’t handle it anymore. You get on your knees, sitting over him and bringing your palm down across his face as hard as you can. 

In a second he’s shooting up. You don’t even notice his hand until you see the way his vision clears. The visceral panic fades and something is aching in your gut. “Oh god, no no no,” he says the word so many times it stops sounding real. 

You look down and see the blood dribbling down his palm, the claws buried in your stomach. It’s almost funny, how perfectly aligned they are with the scar that already lived there. The reminder of your friend’s death being erased and reformed by Logan’s hand. 

He pulls his wrist back and you quickly snatch it up. “Don’t!” You shout, jaw clenching against the pain. “Don’t pull them out, I’ll just bleed out.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” You know he’s worried, that’s why he snaps at you. But it doesn’t help the way you feel yourself fighting back tears.

He sees them drip down your cheeks and his face drops. His other hand, the one not in you, comes up and cradles your cheek. “What do I do?” He whispers, and he sounds more desperate than you do. 

You know he doesn’t want another death on his hands. But there’s something beyond that. He doesn’t want to be the reason you stop breathing. There’s a startling clarity when you’re slowly dying. 

He cares about you. Just as deeply as you do for him. You can’t make him go through this pain again. Can’t let him suffer alone, not when he’s made so much progress. “Slowly,” you tell him, guiding his claws out inch by inch. 

It’s hard not to black out. You’d barely felt it when he’d gotten you the first time. You think it’s because of how fast and sudden it was. But this, having them oh so slowly slicing through your insides is the worst form of torture. 

But you don’t heal like him. You have to close your eyes, focus on the pain, and forcibly reknit your skin back together. It’s a clever manipulation of your powers, but it’s a slow one. You could never take serious damage on the field because you wouldn’t be fast enough to repair yourself. 

This is easy to repair. But that doesn’t make it hurt less. It feels like an hour before he can safely draw them the rest of the way out. The second he does, you’re sinking into his arms with a pained sob. 

He clutches you so tightly to his chest you worry your back might snap. He keeps muttering apologies into your hair, hands desperately grasping at every inch of you he can hold. You’re too tired to say anything. 

You realized you should have. You should have told him you don’t blame him. You were the one who snuck into his room. You should have been smarter. But it doesn’t matter how many times you tell Logan not to blame himself, he always will. And you were too tired to try anyway. 

You only realize what’s happening two days after the incident. You figured he might need some space to process what happened. And honestly, you did too. It was awful and incredibly draining. You’ve felt fatigued ever since. 

But when you try and approach him and he just brushes past you like you weren’t even there, you know something is wrong. You watch his retreating back with a disturbed glare. You connect the dots quickly, already knowing what he’s doing. 

He doesn’t want to be responsible for hurting another person he loves. He can’t handle a loss like that again, even if it’s not by his hands. He wants to make sure you don’t want him, that you don’t care for him. Like that might ease the pain and guilt. 

But it wouldn’t. It would just make him feel worse. It would make you feel worse. 

You don’t waste a second, following him up the stairs and barging into his room before he can slam the door shut. It bounces off the wall and he lets out a deeply irritated sigh. He doesn’t turn to look at you, just walks over to his nightstand and rummages around through the doors.

You know he’s not looking for anything. He’s just trying to ignore you long enough for you to give up. It’s not going to happen, he should know better. 

You take a step further into the room and the smell of chemicals slams into you. Your nose wrinkles in disgust. It smells like he pumped Lysol into the vents. Your eyes dart to the bed and you sigh. 

Your blood, you’d completely forgotten. He must have been cleaning it up the morning after. You can’t blame him for wanting to get rid of the remainder. But this seems excessive. 

“Strong nose,” he mutters. You hadn’t realized you’d spoken aloud and you glanced over at him. “I can still smell it, even after cleaning.” He takes a seat on the bed and you hate the way his shoulders are slumped. 

He’d seemed so much more comfortable with himself lately. It’s like one accident has undone all his progress. “Logan,” you start, taking a step towards him. He holds his hand up, still not looking at you. 

It’s driving you insane. You wish he would just meet your eyes. You feel like you could change his mind if he would just see you. Maybe that’s why he won’t. He won’t let himself be happy. 

“Look, that night just made me realize what a huge fucking mistake this was.” He gets up and slides something out from under the bed. It takes a moment for you to register what it is. A duffel bag, packed with all his essentials and what little clothes he owns. 

He’s going to leave.

You act without thinking. Pure panic making your powers surge out. Logan grunts and the bag falls out of his hand. “Quit it,” he snipes, bending over to pick it up. But he can’t because it’s so heavy it’s making the wooden floor splinter and crack under its weight. 

“You don’t get to just leave when things get hard, Logan.”

He stands up, hands propped on his sides. There’s a challenge in his eyes that makes you nervous. “Fuck this,” he scoffs and brushes past you. 

It’s beyond manipulative to use your powers against him. But sometimes, someone is such a fucking idiot, they need a little outside help. You slam the door closed and the handle disappears, locking you both in his room. 

He turns towards you with a fierce glare on his face. “Open the goddamn door before I break it down.”

“You can try,” you taunt, a nasty tone to your voice. You’re sick of this. You’re sick of running from what you want. You’ve been miserable and alone for years. You want to be happy. For the first time in forever, you want something. 

And you want Logan to be happy with you. You can’t force him to feel the way you do. But you can stop him from actively preventing this. “Stop acting like a goddamn child and just talk to me!” You shout at him. 

There’s a disbelieving look on your face. You don’t understand why he won’t let this happen. Why does he have to fight so hard against any semblance of happiness in his life?

“I’m going to hurt you. That is all I do. I hurt the people I love and I cannot hurt you too.” Your eyes widen in shock at his outburst. Beyond anger, there was so much fear in his voice it was almost enough to make you miss what he’d said. 

“You love me?” You can see the realization dawn on him. The fact that he let slip why he’s so hesitant to be around you. You know he wants to leave, his eyes are darting around the room for an escape route, but you’ve blocked them all. You can’t let this go, not now. 

“Logan,” you snap, demanding an answer from him. 

“Fuck you,” he mutters, something vicious on his face. 

He’s going to hurt you. He’s going to lash out and say something cruel so that this doesn’t happen. You know him because you’ve been him. He will take every possible route to get out of this if it means he doesn’t have to face his feelings. 

You roll your eyes and take a step forward. You jerk him towards you and throw yourself on him before he can say something stupid. The kiss is brief, just enough to snap him out of this ridiculous headspace he’s in. 

When you pull back he looks dazed, but he’s relaxed in your hold, sinking towards you. You grin up at him, “I love you too, dumbass.” You lean up to kiss him again but you dart back at the last second, a mean glare on your face. “Pull some shit like this again and I’m going to melt your dick off.” 

You kiss him before he can respond, but you feel the smile against your lips. You can taste the defeat on his tongue as he wraps his arms around you and tugs you into his chest. He’s not going to push you away and you’re not going to let him. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte  

@mrs-ephemeral  @wolviesgirl @allllium  ♡ 

[bucks-babe]

Plastic

Summary: Bucky using a fleshlight for the first time

Warnings: Smut, toys(fleshlight, vibrator), dirty talk, watching porn, overuse of the word fucking, anal?, cum eating, degradation, use of the word bitch, slut and whore, surprise guest at the end

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: I wrote this in like an hour so be warned. I’m kind of in the same headspace I was in when I wrote Be Mean to Me so this is quite dirty and a little mean. Anyway, you are responsible for your own media consumption. Any and all mistakes are my own. Huge thanks to the amazing @buckys-wintersoldier for beta reading; however any and all mistakes are again, my own. Bucky’s a loud, horny, little boy but he is so hot. THIS IS SOOOO HOT!🤭🤭

Bucky knows that he looks insane, standing by the door of his apartment with his ear pressed against it, listening for the footsteps of his delivery driver. He knows it’s coming soon, having his phone in his hand, obsessively checking the progress of his order. His cock, already hard and throbbing, twitches when he hears the elevator ding and he knows that it's his package. Bucky knows the sound of everyone’s steps on his floor.

As soon as the coast is clear, Bucky whips his door open and grabs his box, barely remembering to lock the door before sprinting up to his room, tearing the packaging open on the way. Flinging himself down on the bed, he moans at the sight of the fleshlight in his hand. “Oh, sweetheart, pussy’s so fucking pretty. Look at that pretty clit. Want me to rub it, huh? Make you cum around my cock?”

He tosses the toy to the side, quickly getting rid of all his clothes and grabbing the lube from his bedside stand along with the TV remote. Bucky silently thanks Sam for showing him how to use a smart TV. One of his favorite things about the 21st century had to be porn. He never had this type of porn back in his day. It would only be magazines of naked women, not that he was complaining, but watching people having sex was much hotter to him.

With the TV in his room and no one living with him, Bucky was able to watch porn in HD as loud as he wanted to, and fuck if he didn’t have the strongest orgasm of his life the first time. 

“That’s gonna be too bad, baby, because I’m fucking your ass today. Don’t give a shit if it hurts, you’re gonna take what I give you and let me fill that tight little hole up as much as I want.” He grabs the fleshlight again and pulls the silicon out, only to flip it to the other side where the fake asshole was before putting it back in its casing. 

Without thought he sticks his tongue in as far as he could, ignoring the plastic taste, and groaning at the tightness of it. “Fuck, you’re gonna choke my cock aren’t ya? Yeah, you are, bitch.” He grabs the remote and quickly gets to a porn website and logs in. “What should I watch, slut while I ruin your little ass?” He already knows exactly what video he was going to watch, there was no doubt about it. It’s the same video he’s been playing on repeat for weeks, never able to last the whole time.

The sight of the woman’s ass swallowing that huge cock sends him over the edge. Maybe it was because the man’s cock looked just like his, making it that much easier to imagine he was fucking her, making her hole gape. Her ass bouncing has him hypnotized, not able to comprehend how it was so perfect.

“Can’t wait to fuck that little hole. Leave you open and sore. Makes my dick so fucking hard.” Clicking the video and grabbing the lube, Bucky puts the tip of the bottle in the hole, squeezing until the slick was dripping out. He doesn’t wait for the intro to finish, quickly skipping past it and to his favorite part, moaning immediately when he clicks play and they’re fucking full force, both moaning, skin slapping, and ass jiggling. 

Bucky has to rewind the video to just before the man slides his cock in, wanting to imagine that he was the one fucking her. He spreads his legs out, feeling his sack hit the bed and another idea enters his brain. Rolling over he grabs the vibrator from the drawer before settling back into his spot, this time with the wand nestled under his balls. Turning it to high, Bucky grinds his sack down further, staring at the way they vibrate over the toy.

If he didn’t have as much control as he did, Bucky could have came just from that. He wants so bad to have her lay down on his bed while he straddles her face, smothering her with his sack, grinding and sliding his balls around face, listening to her choke on them, all while fucking into his toy, pounding, pouring load after load into it.

With that thought in his mind, Bucky lines the fake hole with his cock, the cold lube leaking onto his dick causes him to jerk, his tip grazing her hole. “Fuck, bitch, can’t even get the tip in. Don’t worry, I won’t stop. Don’t cry, you’ll get used to me fucking you whenever. Your little holes are gonna stretch and swallow my cock without problem eventually.”

He has to press to get his thick tip to pop it, and when it does Bucky loses his mind. “Ohhhh, fuccckkk. So fucking tight, shit, gonna make me nut already. So fucking wet, fucking made for me. Shitshitshit.” He has to use every bit of self control in his body to not shove the rest of his length inside, not wanting to blow just yet, not when he hasn’t even seen his girl swallow his dick in her ass while bouncing on his lap.

For just a moment, Bucky regrets placing the vibrator on his sack, but it feels too good to take off, now adding wiggles to his grind, moving the vibe all over his huge sack. “Ready for the rest of it, whore?  No? Well too fucking bad because I want it and I’ll fucking take it, bitch.” It takes him a minute to find the remote, pressing play and turning the volume up, fuck the neighbors. 

He groans in frustration when the people decide to take their good ol’ time getting to the fucking, but when he sees her squat over his lap Bucky feels his cock pulse in anticipation. Her perfect ass swallows his cock without hesitation, and Bucky follows. As soon as he gets past the tip, he slams the rest of his length in, frantically bucking his hips to meet the toy, head falling back and eyes shut.. The sound of his cries, the lube squelching and leaking down to his balls where they bounce between the base of the toy and the vibrator, all drown out the video playing.

“Ohfuckohfuck, so fucking good. Oh shit, ass so tight, cock fucking choking. Can’t. Shit, I, oh fuck.” Bucky’s mind becomes mush, only the carnal urge to fuck and fuck hard drive him. “Love this, love th, fuck! Bet it fucking hurts. Can’t do anything but get fucked. Does my big fat cock hurt? ‘S it tearing you open? Just meant to take this fat fucking dick. Don’t care, bitch. Don’t give a fuck that it hurts. Better get fucking used to it because I’m gonna keep you on my cock all the time.”

When he opens up his eyes, that’s when he truly starts to fuck. He’s almost positive that the bed is going to break any second, creaking and shaking with every thrust. He puts all of his strength into fucking up into the toy while both of his hands come down to help his brutal pounding. “Look at that fucking ass, oh my fuck. Take it, fucking take it. See, slut, told you. You fucking like that shit, fucking like being my cocksleave.”

His moans get higher in pitch, balls still slapping against the vibe with every thrust, practically being thrown around with the speed of his fucking. “‘M’gonna fucking nut. Gonna pour every fucking drop in you ass. Fuuuccckkk, wanna cum on it, watch it bounce while I keep fucking you. Gonna bust so fucking hard. When I’m fucking done you’re gonna be gaping so fucking much I’ll shove my sack inside. Uh, huh, you’ll fucking like that.”

He takes one hand off, searching for the remote that’s been bouncing all over the bed, and turns the volume up all the way, not able to hear over the cacophony of sound he was making. “Ohhhhh, shit, ready? Ready for this fucking nut? There’s so much fucking cum, oh fuck. So much, gonna blow. C’mon, keep bouncing that big ass on me. Don’t you fucking dare stop when I nut, you fucking hear me, bitch? You’re gonna milk every fucking drop from my sack. Gonna be more than one tonight. Have me so fucking horny.”

His thrusts become sloppy before he decides to just stop bucking and let his sack rest on the vibe and his hands take over the work. “Ohhhhh, fucking gonna blow, gonna nut. Ready, fucking ready? Bouncebouncebounce, just like that, just like that. FUCK, YES. GIVE ME IT. GIVE ME THAT FUCKING HOLE. TAKE THIS FUCKING NUT.”

The string of curses doesn’t slow down for minutes, his orgasm not abiding at all. “Fuck me! Leaking everywhere. All over the fucking bed. Cum’s filling you up so much can’t even handle it.” He keeps going until he’s almost too sensitive, pulling the fleshlight off wasting no time bringing it up to his mouth, swallowing mouthfulls of cum until it’s all gone. “So fucking good, but I’m not fucking done. Get over here, baby.”

Still laying on the bed, Bucky looks over to you, leaning against the doorframe. “I’m surprised you heard me over all that noise you were making.” Bucky just chuckles and lazily reaches an arm out for you, beckoning you over, which you happily do.

You take off all your clothes before joining him in bed, grabbing the fleshlight and licking the drops of cum he missed off, humming at the taste. “You know, you could have just called me over instead of watching our videos? I’m pretty sure we’re gonna get another noise complaint. The whole building probably heard you.”

Bucky rolls to his side. “Can’t help it, baby. You’re so fucking sexy and the way you take my cock. Can’t get off to anyone else, only my favorite pornstar.” He cuts himself off with a groan.

“I don’t know if it counts as being a pornstar if we only have sex with each other, Buck.”

“Of course it counts. Last time I checked, thousands of people come to watch us fuck each other dumb. Speaking of, we haven’t made a video in a while and I bet they would love to see you squirt on my dick, don’t you think?”

At your giggle, Bucky goes and sets the camera up, making sure not to show anything in the room that would give away who you both are, knowing that you would blur your faces when you go to edit. As much as he loved to hear how crazy men and women go over the two of you, Bucky didn’t want them to know your identities. 

“Sweetheart, you are so fucking beautiful, can’t even put it into words.”

“Don’t have to, show me, big guy because I’m dripping and I need a big cock to fill me up and my boyfriend's right here.” And Bucky’s going to do just that.

[diddybok]

i’m actually obsessed with the kinks drabble u did, can u pls do it for the maknae line 🙏🏽

i picked yours to be the one to hold the absolute chaos that is abt to unfold. so i hope you were waiting patiently my love coz here it is!

all characters depicted in my writing are from my own imagination and do NOT in any way represent nor reflect the people in real life :)

➩pairing: maknae line x gn!reader

➩genre(s): smut, pwp

➩warnings: swearing, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), penetration (not specified what hole, this one is for all the delulu’s out there) , kinks: mask, praise, degradation, oral fixation. 

➩wc: 10.3k (10331)

➩author’s note: here it is. the long awaited maknae line. this is the second longest(?) fic i’ve done. but now i can continue working on my seungmin fic that’s a part of the afterglow series. now THAT is something to wait for *lip bite emoji*

➩part(s): previous

jisung | mask | 2.1k (2188) words

“Ji! Can you come here for a second?” You call from the bathroom. Your hands are currently around your back trying to do up the zipper of your costume, but it won’t budge. 

Jisung comes running in, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. 

“What happened? I came as fast as I could!” He asks, scanning you up and down. 

You furrow your eyebrows at his dramatics before shaking your head softly. You turn away from him and point to your back. 

“Zipper won’t go up. Can you try for me?”

“Oh, yeah sure.”

As Jisung grabs the zip and tugs it a few times, it finally closes. You thank him and step back, assessing yourself in the mirror. 

You and Jisung were invited to a halloween party and you decided, obviously, to go in a couple’s costume. It’s your favourite pastime for both of you really. Pretending as if you two are a couple when really you’re just best friends, but the public doesn’t need to know that. 

You also told his parents that the two of you were dating as a joke, but he doesn’t know that. You are exceptionally good at keeping up with the whole ‘significant other’ appearances. 

“I can’t believe we’re gonna be the best dressed at the party and we haven’t even arrived yet.” Jisung says, flexing in the mirror. 

You stifle a laugh as you admire your handiwork. You were in charge of picking the costume and making sure to get the props and makeup correct. You decided that you wanted to go as Ghost and Soap from Call of Duty.

Okay, not exactly a couple’s costume, but you wouldn’t stop pestering Jisung to be Ghost saying that he would look good in a skull mask until he finally caved and agreed. 

Now you’re having regrets as he is feeling himself a little too much and he is looking a little too good doing so. You have yet to see him with his full mask and headgear on as he requested for you to give him a black smokey eye. 

You use your thumb to wipe some of the excess eyeshadow that rests on the top of his cheek and you give him one playful tap. He thanks you and immediately grabs the rest of his costume. 

What a good job you did because he is starting to seriously look too sexy for his own good. You can barely look at him as he assembles his mask and headgear. Then he turns to face you, his arms out wide. 

Oh. 

Wow. 

This is certainly a strange feeling you are experiencing inside of you right now. He looks, to put it plainly, delectable. And you seriously would want nothing more than to take a bite out of him-

“Y/n? Let’s go~” Jisung says, clicking in front of your face. 

You shake those inappropriate thoughts from your brain. You are not to think of him that way, absolutely not. 

                         ──・──・・✿ ・・──・──

The party most definitely helps to distract from the glory that is Jisung. You have loosened up a little, enjoying the music, people’s costumes and the atmosphere as a whole. 

“Y/n! God I’ve been looking everywhere for you. We can’t be a couple’s costume if we’re constantly separated, you know.” Jisung yells over the loud music, frowning. 

You look up at him, his beautiful big brown eyes standing out from the white mask. Perhaps convincing him that this would be a good costume was not good for your mental wellbeing after all. 

“Yeah…maybe.”

“What do you mean yeah maybe? Just yes.” he grabs ahold of your hand and pulls you close. You can smell his cologne, the one you bought him for his birthday. You take a deep breath. “Come, let’s go upstairs for a bit.” He says starting to lead you towards the staircase. 

Your eyes widen and you try to plant your feet on the ground. 

“Wait, just us? Like alone? Why?” You stammer. 

He just looks at you as if you aren’t thinking straight. He tries to move you again but you don’t budge. You see him roll his eyes before you let out a questionable noise of surprise as he picks you up and carries you up the stairs. 

He jiggles the handles of a few doors before finding an unlocked room. Being mindful not to bash your head or your feet, he manoeuvres his way through the doorway and places you gently on the bed. As you settle the unwanted swarm of butterflies in your stomach, Jisung goes over to the door and locks it. 

“Why are we up here Ji?” You ask, your hands fiddling with a zip on your costume as you look around the room. 

He takes off his helmet to free his hair; his mask shortly follows and he blinks to adjust to the light. Running a hand through the messy locks, he sits down beside you on the bed. 

“Just needed a moment away y’know? It was getting a bit much down there. You really had to pick a costume that would draw all the attention to us huh?” He says nudging you with his elbow. 

You wince slightly, rubbing the side of your ribs before squinting at him. 

“You told me you wanted to be the centre of attention. I should be hearing a thank you, not complaints.” Jisung shakes his head at your words. 

“I think it’s this mask, or the combat gear, or both. It’s certainly getting a rile off people.” He says in all seriousness. You miss the way his eyes lingers on you with a pointed look before they cast away to a corner of the room. 

“Well of course. A mask automatically makes somebody look way more fuckable.” You say nonchalantly. 

He turns to you, a smug smile on his face. 

“Are you saying I’m only fuckable with this mask on?” Jisung says in a sultry tone. 

You blink, seemingly caught like a deer in headlights. Has his voice always sounded so enticing?

“You and I both know that isn’t the case. But it damn sure helps your case.” Jisung gawks at this. His arm moving behind your waist and settling dangerously close to your ass as he leans in closer to you. 

“My case huh?” He tilts his head at you, eyes squinting slightly. “You mean to say you wouldn’t fuck me in all my glory right now?” He questions, his voice nearing a whisper. 

“Are you drunk?”

“Off you, yeah.”

You roll your eyes and lightly smack his chest. He grabs your hand gently and tugs your arm, making you involuntarily fall into his chest. You try to move back, but his other arm lowers you down onto the bed, caging you in. He smirks at you. 

“Want me to put the mask on?” He removes his grasp on your hand and his fingers dance along your jaw. “That way it doesn’t technically count as me, but Ghost, who gets to have his way with you.” He purrs. 

What the fuck is in the air tonight? Is Phil Collins playing somewhere?! You awkwardly chuckle. 

“You know we’re only supposed to act like a couple in front of other people right? Nobody is having their way with anybody.” You say more to yourself rather than to him. 

You knew it was a lie the minute it came out of your mouth. Now your costume is broken from the sheer force of Jisung and his manly ways of needing to rid you of your clothes. 

“Fuck, fuck yes. You’re so fucking tight baby, shit~” Jisung, or rather ‘Ghost’ says as he grinds down into you. 

The way he calls you baby makes your heart flutter. It’s not as if he hasn’t before, but those times he wasn’t, well, in you. 

You really can’t believe he is inside of you right now. Inside of you whilst he adorns that incredibly sexy skull mask. 

His deep grunts and the sound of the headboard banging against the wall over the muffled music from downstairs sends a shot of ecstasy straight into your veins. 

“Bet you couldn’t fuckin’ keep it together at the thought of me in this mask huh? I seen the way you were looking at me downstairs darling, fuck, just had to get you all to myself. Couldn’t take much more of your pretty eyes looking at me like that any longer.” Jisung says as he repositions himself onto his knees. 

He grabs your waist, your back arching off the bed as he uses you like his personal fleshlight. 

The sounds of your moans are sure to make anybody who walks by stop and listen. No doubt blushing profusely whilst needing to quickly flee to give you your privacy. 

Your hands reach up, grasping anything they could get a hold of. You manage to grab a buckle from his helmet and you lift your head to look at his mask. 

“Ah fuck Y/n. Please don’t look at me like that. You’re squeezin’ so tight around me every time you look at my face. Driving me fuckin’ insane baby.” Jisung says, his fingers digging deeper into your waist as he pounds into you harder. 

His grunts turn into that of a whine. His breath no doubt, creating condensation inside of his mask. 

You run your fingers over the dips and curves of his mask. His hand trails to your back, lifting your body up so that your chest is flush against him.

Not casting your eyes away from the mask, you begin to grind down into his lap. His hands settle on the curve of your back, his fingers harshly gripping the supple flesh. 

“Y/n—”

You just wrap your arms around his neck, your head resting on his shoulder as you start to bounce up and down. Jisung gladly meets you halfway by thrusting up into you at full force. 

“Baby I can’t, not when you feel this good. I’m, shit, I’m gonna come Y/n.” Jisung whines, his breath becoming short. 

“Me too Ji. I’m about to—”

“Come with me Y/n. Please, please I need you to feel good with me baby.” Jisung says. He releases one of his hands from you and he throws his helmet and mask off. 

The sight with him wearing the mask is certainly one to engrave into your brain. But Jisung with his hair messy, eyes full blown with desire; only for you. Sweat dripping down his hairline and his plump lips parted as he releases quick breaths is something you would pay to see over and over again. 

His hand makes his way to your chest, pinching and twisting the hardened bud before enveloping it with his mouth. 

The sensation of his mouth on your nipple and his relentless fucking up into makes you see stars. You throw your head back, stilling your movements as you come. 

If Jisung wasn’t catching feelings already then he did after he heard his name so gorgeously mewled from your lips; sending him over the edge as he pumped his load inside of you. 

He shouldn't have, but he did. You simply felt just too good. 

As you both come down from your high with heavy pants and small chuckles here and there, you assess the damage done. 

Not to your relationship, but rather your clothes. 

“So, through your fit of horny rage, did it occur to you that ripping apart my only costume that I brought would leave me topless?” You ask him with a raised eyebrow. 

He looks down at your exposed chest, then at the floor where your broken top resides. 

“Can’t you put it on and, y’know, just hold it tight whilst we find our way outta here?” He suggests. 

You look down at the costume. Sure, some of it may be salvageable, doesn’t mean you want to hold it up to your chest and risk some drunkard bumping into you causing you to release your grip. 

You get off the bed and start looking through the chest of drawers. Certainly not appropriate to do in somebody else’s home, but you don’t feel too bad considering their house will be trashed to a point where a large amount of money will need to be invested into replacing and fixing the damages. 

Luckily, you find a shirt. You go to put it on but Jisung stops you. He takes the shirt from your hands and he opens it up, gently dressing you. Once he pulls the shirt over your head, he places a totally platonic kiss to your soft lips. 

You tilt your head up at him, a silent question that he seems to understand. 

“Because I want to take it off you, actually take my time with you when we get back and do it properly. Do it for real.” He says, his voice above a mere whisper. 

Grabbing your hand, he leads the two of you out of the party. You can’t seem to wipe the smile off your face. 

Who knew that Jisung wearing a mask would lead to this point? Not you, that’s for sure!

felix | praise | 2.2k (2205) words

The clock reads 01:36 am as you make your way to the skate park. The day was filled with sun and blue sky promising you a nice clear night sky covered in a blanket of stars. You climb the ramp and your senses are already filled with Felix. 

“Thought you said you were gonna get here before me?” Felix teases not moving from his current position. You scoff lightly and wiggle your way into his arms and under the blanket. 

Sure this may be slightly intimate for friends to do, but you know that Felix is a touchy person and you don’t mind all that much. Especially when he is the only one who agrees to stargaze with you at late hours of the night. 

                         ──・──・・✿ ・・──・──

Time passes by and the two of you lay there listening to your playlist and the crickets. 

“Lix?”

“Hmm?”

“I finished reading the book that I had been putting off for ages” You say smiling softly. You feel his head turn to look down at you, so you meet his eyes, tilting your head up from his chest. 

“Seriously?” You nod. “Wow, I’m so proud of you angel! Did you enjoy it?” He gleams. 

Your brain takes a second to process what he has just said. Your face faltering and your hand that laid flat on his chest, now bunching up his shirt. 

“Y/n? Did you enjoy it?” Felix asks again, chuckling softly at your fist balling up his shirt. You could only release a small hum in agreement. Felix looks back up to the stars and you miss the cocky smirk that now adorns his face. 

“Hm, you’ve made me proud so far. You wanna use your words and tell me what you liked about the book like the good little angel you are?” Felix speaks lowly. 

You can’t help but to squeeze your thighs together because of the way he is praising you right now. What has gotten into him? More specifically, what has gotten into you?!

“Uh, I liked how there was a story in the book” You say hurriedly, looking at the stars. Anything but him. Felix lets out a roar of laughter which inevitably snaps you out of your trance. 

“Why are you laughing?” You groan, unaware of the nonsensical sentence you had just said. 

He just shakes his head and pulls you closer into his embrace. His hand starts to stroke at your side and you are suddenly becoming extremely aware of the proximity between the two of you. 

“Oh look, a shooting star!” You lie, pointing up to the sky to try and ease the tension. 

However, Felix, much to your dismay, was not looking up at the sky, but rather at you. Looking at you like either the only person in the world, or the tastiest sweet treat he has ever seen. 

Does he want to dote on you or eat you? You really can’t decipher which as you study his face. 

“Why are you looking at me like that…”

“You’re just so good, so so sweet. I love having you in my life. I’m always so proud of everything you do. Makes me wanna keep you all to myself and not let anyone experience your sweetness.” Felix says, his other hand lifting your chin up to look him in the eyes. Something you are really struggling to do. 

You gulp, unsure of the feelings that bubble in the pit on your stomach. 

“M’serious. You have the most gorgeous smile doll, so pretty.”

Butterflies? Perhaps butterflies are fluttering in your stomach. 

“Especially when I’m the one that makes you smile. I shouldn’t say this, but I think about you all the time. You’re always on my mind, Y/n.” Felix says, his eyes now wondering to the twinkles in the sky. 

You can’t breathe. You know he likes to get personal, but not like this. Never like this. Something is different with the way he’s talking to you. It has been ever since the last time you were at the skate park with him and he told you how pretty you looked. 

It may have been a slip of the tongue, but you expressed to him that you like when he would praise you. 

Now the little shit has found a way to constantly fluster you. 

“All good thoughts I hope.” You say breaking the silence that was brewing between the two of you. 

“Of course. Could never be anything bad with you angel. Even if I was upset with you, all you have to do is just look at me with those perfect eyes and I’m yours. Can’t ever stay mad at you,” he shakes his head. “Never.”

You sit up, looking down at him with your mouth agape. He turns to look towards you, his arm going under his head to prop it up. He’s clearly been going to the gym recently because his arms are getting toned, and bigger. 

The protruding veins on his forearms are enough to make you drool. 

“Why would you say all that to me knowing I can’t kiss you for it.” You say, crossing your arms. He chuckles at you. 

“Who says you can’t?”

You look around the empty skate park as if the answer was obvious. 

“Uh, literally the number one rule in the rulebook of best friends? It’s the same for everyone ever. You kiss and you open up a door of complications.” You say matter-of-factly. 

Felix sits up, the blanket falling from his chest and pooling at his waist. He places his hand in the space between your crossed legs as he dips his head slightly under to look at you through his eyelashes. 

“Fuck the rulebook. You know you and I don’t follow rules anyways. That’s why we hop the locked gate to the park almost every night.” He states, smirking. 

You can’t argue with that. He got you there. Though you aren’t done putting up a fight so you shake your head to disagree with something you clearly agree with him on. 

“Well yes, but no. We can’t kiss.”

“I wanna kiss you.” He says looking at your lips. 

“I just said we can’t.”

“Let me kiss you Y/n.” He licks his lips, his gaze unwavering. 

You hesitate, but stand strong in this battle as you shake your head. 

“Lix, strictly prohibited.”

“One teeny tiny kiss can’t hurt.” He says, his voice dropping dangerously low. 

Gosh he looks so pretty underneath the moonlight. He literally has a twinkle in his eye. Not to mention his own set of stars that are sprinkled across his nose and under his eyes. 

“I…want to, but—”

“But you’re talking too much. Let’s busy your lips shall we? Be my good little angel and kiss me.” He whispers, bringing his hand to cup your cheek.

You aren’t the world’s strongest soldier as you close the distance between you. Your lips entwine with his and fall into a rhythmic pattern almost immediately. 

He smiles into the kiss whispering a ‘There you go doll’ making you squeeze those thighs together to relieve some of the pressure. 

It’s cold outside, but the heat that your bodies emit are keeping you both warm as your body’s move in tandem. He kneels as you are on all fours, taking him down your throat. 

“Y-yes~ So good. Just like that for me, doll. Just like that.” Felix moans as he pushes your head up and down his throbbing length. 

Eager to please, you hollow your cheeks, taking him as far down your throat as you can get him. You moan around him and his head falls back as he holds your head down and thrusts into your mouth, making you gag. 

“Good fucking angel. Taking me so far down that pretty little throat of yours. Shit, you gonna let me fuck your pretty hole? Please baby, make me happy and let me fuck you slow.”

He releases his hold on you and repositions himself. The blanket is now being used as a barrier between your naked bodies and the cold concrete beneath you. 

Risky considering a guard could decide to do their job tonight and parole the park, but they never do. And that is at the farthest part of your brain as you now crawl up Felix’s body. Rubbing yourself up and down his length. 

He releases a soft grunt, grabbing your hips forcing you to stop your movement. 

“Don’t tease.” He warns as he raises his eyebrow at you giving you a firm smack on your ass. 

You giggle, biting your lip as you attempt to move your hips once more before he smacks you harder this time. 

“Naughty. Don’t start acting up now doll or else I won’t be so nice hm? Will you be good for me?” He asks lifting your hips slightly as he grabs his dick. He pumps it once before he runs it over your core a couple of times. 

Realising he was waiting for your answer, you nod vigorously. He smiles at you before sinking you down on his cock, both of you letting out a long, breathy moan. 

“So warm, so tight, fuck you’re choking me darling.” Felix growls, thrusting up into you slowly. 

You rest your hands on his chest, meeting his thrusts halfway. 

“Oh look at you. You wanna take the lead? Go on then doll. Ride me, but go slow baby yeah?” He lays still, his hands busying themselves with your nipples.

Taking his command, you start to ride him slowly. You close your eyes as you cherish each vein, each ridge of his dick as your walls envelope him. 

“You look so pretty on top of me Y/n. Mm, I will never get this image out of my head. You’re made for me.” He pulls you down so that your chest lays on his as he starts to thrust up into you. He simply couldn’t resist the temptation that is you. 

“Shit, can’t let you go after this. I’ll be damned if you fuck anybody else. You can’t, you’re mine now. Say it. Open your eyes, doll and tell me you’re mine.” He speaks into your ear before turning your head to face him. 

“I’m yours Felix. Always have been.” You say with a soft whimper. 

“Ah fuck~ Good. You’re damn right you always have been, my angel.” He starts to speed up, his hand trailing to between your legs to give you that extra stimulation. 

“Lix I’m close.” You say, meeting his thrusts again as you whine loudly. 

“I know baby, I know. Wanna come for me? Yeah you do. Be my good little angel and come on this cock.” 

That was all you needed as you gushed all over him. Your legs quiver as you clench tightly around him. 

“That’s it, feel good on my cock doll. You’re squeezin’ me so fucking tight love.” Felix’s voice is shaky as he wraps his arms around your waist and begins to chase his release. 

He only lasts a couple more thrusts before he’s moaning your name so beautifully in your ear as he releases inside of you. You feel it, there’s so much as he empties his dick all in your hole. 

You look down to where the two of you connect, his hips finally stilling as he breathes heavily. You lift up off of him and the mixture of your climax seeps out and drops back onto his length. Following put, Felix looks down at the mess you’ve both made, smiling smugly. 

He grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing tightly before he smacks it. 

“Clean it up.”

Without a second thought, you move down and settle between his legs. With your ass perched in the air, you don’t waste time as you lick up and down his length. Sucking his balls into your mouth as you collect every last drop of the result of tonight’s escapades. 

He has to grab your hair and pull your head up, the feeling of your tongue and soft wet mouth too much for an overstimulated Felix. 

“Okay okay, shit, you did such a good job for me. Never expected anything less from my angel. M’so proud of you, c’mere.” He says, opening his arms wide. 

You move to lay beside him and he folds the both of you up in the blanket. To the best of his ability anyway. 

You both calm down, your senses momentarily heightened. Stroking your arm he litters the side of your head and your forehead with kisses. He then lifts your chin up to face him, planting a deeply soft kiss to your lips. 

“I’m so proud of you. My little star,” Another kiss. “You shine brighter than all of the ones in the sky,” Another kiss. “I promise. You’re mine, I’m yours.” His voice, a softly spoken promise. 

“I’m yours, you’re mine.” You say, smiling at him. 

Felix doesn’t have to play pretend in the little world he has created that consists of you and him as now he gets to finally live in the reality of it. And you, you’re just happy to be a part of this new constellation that’s been written in the stars. 

seungmin | degradation | 2.9k (2929) words

“Oh I would. I definitely would. ‘Til my jaw locks, the neighbours know their name, the wallpaper peels off the wall. You would need at least ten big bodied people to try to pry me off of them. I am so serious.” You practically drool. 

You were showing Seungmin edits of your current celebrity crushes, having said extremely vulgar things about them and just what you would do for the past thirty minutes.  

And no, you do not care if these said crushes may also consist of pixelated characters from games. If a person is attractive, they are attractive. You are not fussy. 

Seungmin on the other hand has had to deal with his inbox of all his social media being full of edits that you bombard him with. Safe to say he is sick of it. 

“You are disgusting” Seungmin groans. 

“Yep. They so could have me in any position”

“Have you no shame?”

“Any day of the week.”

“Y/n, stop.”

“For them I am simply a hole-”

“Jesus fucking christ! Can you for once in your life not act like a fucking slut?” Seungmin questions, raising his voice slightly. 

Oh. Oh. 

You stop dead in your tracks, gulping loudly. You don’t say another word. Fearful for if you open your mouth, you will plead him to say it again. 

“What now you’re silent?” He scoffs and looks over at you, monitoring your face. You still don’t move, not even to scroll through more edits on your phone. The same sound playing over and over. He sees the way you tightly grasp the fabric of your joggers before bringing his eyes back to your face. 

“You liked that…didn’t you?” He quizzes, inching closer to you on the sofa. He places one hand on the arm-rest and the other rests near the back of your head; caging you in. When you don’t respond, he gently grabs a hold of your chin with his fingers. 

“I asked you a question. Or are you too stupid to rack your brain to think of anything other than being used for your body?” He whispers.

You just came. Well you think you just did. If you didn’t, you are surely on your way. 

“…No.” You meekly respond. 

He laughs softly, pulling away and moving to his side of the sofa again. 

“Oh okay. Was just making sure.” Seungmin says with a shit-eating grin. 

You furrow your eyebrows at this, looking at him quizzically. 

“What’s that supposed to mean? What do you mean you were just making sure? Making sure of what?” You ramble. 

Seungmin just hums, ignoring your array of questions. He busies himself with his phone, completely shutting you out. 

That incident happened on Monday, it is now Saturday. Something has shifted between the two of you, at least you think it has. 

It is not rare for the two of you to bash heads. It is usually you getting on Seungmin’s nerves and he always cusses you out for it. Except the way he has been doing it since Monday has been…interesting. 

It’s like he knows something about you. About the way you react to the way he raises his voice at you. The way he scoffs a laugh at you when you fail again at a level on the video game the two of you play. Or the way he downright disrespects you.

It’s stressing you out to say the least. When he acts cold and distant to you and then immediately blows up on you for even suggesting that he is acting weird. 

You decided to give him some space during the week to sort out whatever mood swing he was going through.

You are at his house now for ‘Sleepless Saturday’s’. This was a tradition between the two of you and his other two roommates Jeongin and Chris. 

First you all do some gaming, then you all stuff your faces with whatever food you want and now you begin the movie marathon. Luckily for you, it’s your turn to choose what everyone watches this Saturday. 

Due to the fact that Seungmin had been off with you all week, you decided that you were going to torture him with choosing a movie franchise that he particularly doesn’t like. 

It was only fair considering what he had put you through. You have never been so confusingly horny ever in your entire life. 

As the boys come into the room with drinks and snacks you hear a groan from Jeongin and Seungmin. Chris just snickers to himself as he sits down in his designated seat. 

“Right, who here pissed you off?” Jeongin says, looking at you before turning to the other guys.  “You know this only happens when you piss Y/n off! And I know for damn sure it wasn’t me so you better own up or I will make all of you watch the director’s cut of Lord of the Rings next Saturday.”

At that, all of your eyes go wide as you plead with Jeongin. Chris complaining at how he wasn’t the one to blame and Jeongin confirming that it couldn’t possibly have been him. 

All eyes fall to Seungmin who sits there snacking on some popcorn. He looks up to see eyes on him and he throws his hands in the air. 

“What are you looking at me for?” Seungmin groans. 

“If it wasn’t me or him, that only leaves you, genius.” Jeongin says, shaking his head at Seungmin. 

Seungmin’s mouth falls open as he struggles to get words out. He looks from them to you, to which you quickly divert your eyes to the television screen. 

“Dude, come on. Whatever you did to Y/n just apologise.” Chris says. 

You are trying to hide your smile by taking a sip of your drink. You can always trust Jeongin to up the ante. 

“I didn’t do anything!” Seungmin retorts. He keeps trying to catch your eye to have you side with him and convince them that they are just blowing this out of proportion, but you don’t give in so easily. 

“You clearly did if we are all watching the Twilight Saga tonight.”

“Alright guys let’s calm down. The longer we argue the longer it takes for me to see some sexy vampires and werewolves on the screen. Sit down, I’m pressing play.” You say, breaking it up. 

                         ──・──・・✿ ・・──・──

The start of the second film has begun and you can feel a pair of eyes on you. Subtly, you stretch and turn your head to confirm the suspicions. 

Seungmin stares at you with squinted eyes and you furrow your eyebrows in return. You almost miss it, but he points to the stairs before immediately getting up. 

The other boys don’t pay him any mind as they, though they complained, are entranced by the film. 

“Innie I’m cold, can I borrow a hoodie?” You ask.

“Yeah, just get one from my room.” He never pries his eyes away from the screen. “You know where. Just don’t—”

“Go in the second drawer yeah I know.” You say rolling your eyes and running up the stairs. 

Passing Jeongin’s room, you go straight into Seungmin’s. He sits on the bed with his head in his hands. 

“What?” You ask, folding your arms. He immediately stands up, walking past you to close his door. As he does, you get a whiff of his cologne and it smells delectable. 

You have barely been in close proximity to him the whole day let alone the whole week, afraid that he will just snap at you. 

“What the fuck Y/n?” He says in a hushed tone, careful not to be too loud. 

“What do you mean?”

“Why have you been acting so weird? You’ve been so on edge around me today and then you chose Twilight as the film’s for us to watch. I.N’s right, you only do that when you’re pissed off. Did I do something?” Seungmin says, genuinely worried. 

You fiddle with your fingers, trying to voice your feelings. 

“You’ve been acting so strange since Monday…”

“This again? Jesus Y/n what about Monday?” Seungmin says, now frustrated. 

You scoff and turn around. Trying to open the door to his room. It opens slightly before it gets slammed shut, his hand right by your head. 

“Y/n. You do not walk away from me when I’m trying to have a conversation with you. Especially when I don’t know what I’ve done.” Seungmin says quietly behind you. 

“Seungmin, this couldn't wait until tomorrow?” 

He drops his head and you can feel his breath tickle the back of your neck. 

“You’re killing me Y/n. Using my full name? Please just tell me. Tell me what I did.” He whispers against your ear. 

Your chest rises and falls heavily at the lack of distance between the two of you. You take a deep breath. 

“You were mean to me.”

He turns your body around so that you are facing him, his hands never break contact from holding you, his thumb stroking your arms softly. 

“Was I? What did I say?”

“You said that I was a slut.”

Seungmin stares at you before he breaks out into a smile. He covers his mouth and recomposes himself. 

“No I never. I said that you act like a slut. And was I wrong? No again. But you liked it didn’t you, sweetheart?”

Your mouth falls open. How has he flipped this back on you? 

“Don’t tempt me with your open mouth Y/n. You know I’d love to shut you up in a way I know you would like.” He caresses your cheek with his hand. 

“F-fuck you Seungmin.” You stammer, embarrassed. He just laughs at you, his bottom lip sticking out slightly as he tilts his head at you. 

“No you want me to? I bet you do. Wanna open those legs for me like the filthy little whore you are huh? Want me to fuck you like you crave? Like the needy little cumslut you are?” Seungmin says, his voice now in a low timbre. 

You hope the boys are so entranced that they can’t hear you become a moaning mess for your best friend upstairs. 

It doesn’t help how he’s been calling you his dirty little plaything ever since he shoved his cock down your throat. Then pumped his fingers in and out of you as he sucked, licked and went to town on you with that dangerously long (and skilled) tongue of his. 

Now you find yourself with your legs draped over his shoulders as he shows no mercy with his hips as he thrusts in and out of you at full speed. 

“Yeah, take it slut. You’re not good for anything other than opening up those legs of yours. You just let anyone fuck you like this?” He lands a hard slap to your ass making you moan. “Huh? I asked you a question, you better fucking answer it.” He growls. 

“N-no. Never.” You mewl, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

You hear him laugh at you. The fucker is laughing at you as he takes you to pound town. 

“Never knew my best friend was so needy for cock. Yeah your fingers and your toys with your little fantasies of your crushes don’t do shit. You needed, no, wanted to feel like my own little sex doll didn’t you?” He says chuckling. 

He slows down, putting both of your ankles on his right shoulder as he presses your legs into your chest and grinds down, hitting you so unbelievably deep. That delicious spot inside getting stroked time and time again as he rolls his hips into you. 

The sweat off his forehead drips just below your eye, mixing with the tears that make their descent down the side of your cheek, wetting the side of your head. 

He is enjoying the way you react, the way you clench around him tightly every single time he degrades you. Caught up in the heat of it all, he licks a stripe of your tears, humming at the salty taste. 

Your mouth, open and panting for air, gets intruded by his tongue licking along your own before enclosing his mouth around yours, swallowing your moans. 

This is all so filthy. So vulgar. So good. 

The kiss is wet, sloppy and a mix of both of you breathing into each other’s mouths. He pulls away with your bottom lip between his teeth. He bit so hard he very nearly drew blood. The pain just mixes with the pleasure as you whine at the sensation to which he licks and soothes the bite marks that he’s created. 

He dips his head down, kissing, sucking and blowing cool air on your neck before speaking low in your ear.

“You’re such a dirty hole. My own personal—fuck, tight little hole for me to fill up. Aren’t you? Shit~”

“Min I can’t. Too much.” You say as your hands travel down his back, your nails scraping so hard it breaks the skin. 

“Yes you can. You can take it Y/n, come on. It’s what you were made for. You were made to be used, you can fucking take it.”

“Minnie m’gonna fucking come.” You cry out. 

He shakes his head. 

“No the fuck you’re not you dumb little hole. Ngh, you’re gonna make me come first. I’m first, then you can. Mkay?” Seungmin says, his voice betraying the authoritative demeanour he adopted as it cracks slightly; turning into a desperate whine. 

You try to be good for him, holding the coil that threatens to burst any minute now. 

“Fuck I’m coming. Shit Y/n, I’m coming.” He says, his hands roughly gripping the pillow beside your head as he unloads into you. 

“Please, please, please!” You whine, rocking your hips to chase your own release. 

Knowing you’re about to snap, he moves one of his hands between your thighs, stimulating you at your core whilst trying his hardest to fuck you through your orgasm. 

You swear you’ve never come this hard. Let alone this much. Your legs are uncontrollably shaking. You milk him dry and he makes sure you ride out your high for as long as possible before he collapses half on you, half on the bed. 

You try to catch your breath, but it is proving difficult. 

“Y/n take a deep breath for me sweetheart.” Seungmin says, catching his own breath as he strokes your forehead as places gentle kisses to your eyelids and cheeks. 

You take three deep breaths and are able to regulate your breathing to soft pants now. 

He pulls out of you, moaning at the loss of warmth, but also at the mess that spills out of you. He moves down the bed, cleaning you up. Eagerly lapping up the result of both of your climaxes. 

You don’t think you can take anymore of the overstimulation and you weakly push his head away to which he laughs that sexy laugh of his again. 

“Okay okay, m’sorry you just taste too good.” He crawls back up the bed and lays beside you, holding you in his arms. 

He doesn’t even think he has gone as intense as he did just then and he doesn’t think you have either. 

He makes sure to just hold you, swaying you lightly as he kisses you on the side of your head. He looks at his bedside table saying an internal thanks as he sees his water bottle is full. 

He takes it and holds it to your mouth. 

“Y/n I need you to drink this for me okay. Open your mouth darling. There we go, slowly, not too fast.” Seungmin soothes as he helps you drink. 

Once you’ve had at least a quarter he stops for a bit. Telling you just how good you were for him and that he’s so proud of you. He rubs between your thighs, not even to get you going again, just to soothe the ache. 

“I’m not letting you have sex with anybody like that other than me.” He says and you both laugh. Though he is completely serious. After that you simply cannot even think about any of your celebrity crushes because you just know he has ruined you for them. Even if they were just a fantasy. 

After, and only after you had finished the bottle of water, were you allowed to let him clean you up properly. When you got the strength to get up, you tried to make yourself look like you weren’t just fucked into oblivion as you hobble down the stairs with Seungmin. 

That was your, amongst many, mistake. 

Jeongin and Chris look appalled. You see Chris shaking his head whilst Jeongin jumps up from his seat, actually looking like he could hurt the both of you. 

“What, and I can not stress this enough, the FUCK!” Jeongin yells. 

“No way you were clapping cheeks when we had to sit here and watch two whole Twilight movies. No way.” Chris mumbles to himself. 

“What do you mean?” Seungmin says shrugging and acting confused.  

You think you actually saw the string of sanity that was holding Jeongin together snap as he lunges for Seungmin. Whilst Chris on the other hand shakes his head at you like a disappointed mother. 

Through Seungmin’s screams and Chris’ ‘Mate yous are nasty’, it’s safe to say that you and Seungmin deserve to sit through the director’s cut of Lord of the Rings at least three times to make up for tonight!

jeongin | oral fixation | 3k (3009) words

You stretch, releasing a small yawn from beside Jeongin before placing the knuckle of your finger between your teeth as you concentrate on scrolling through your laptop. 

Jeongin was texting on his phone, humming a simple tune. However, the sound of a wrapper unfolding and being squished up into a ball caught his attention. 

He watches as you place the lollipop between your lips. This is the third one today. 

One of the boys in the group chat sent a video of what they’re currently doing. Jeongin knows that you think all of his friends are attractive. Which he likes to pretend doesn’t bother him, but deep down it makes his right eye twitch a little bit.

Yet being the good friend he is, he turns the phone and shows you, lightly nudging your arm with his elbow. 

You watch as Minho lifts a spoon to his lips, his tongue darting out to catch the contents dripping from the spoon before he puts it in his mouth and moans. 

“How does he make eating soup look so fucking hot.” You say with your lollipop tucked away in the side of your cheek. 

“He doesn’t. He’s just being annoying.” Jeongin says distastefully. 

You lean over him, grabbing the white stick of your sweet treat between your fingers as you press play on the video again. 

Jeongin watches you as you become strangely enraptured by the video. When Minho catches the liquid with his tongue, he sees you watching intently, the lollipop slowly making itself comfortable back in its designated place. 

As the video ends for the third time, you are now quiet as you occupy your mind with something Jeongin knows not. 

The way you so seamlessly move back into your previous state of shopping on your laptop made Jeongin squint his eyes. 

It always did make him wonder why you would always adorn a sweet suckle between your lips. Always a lollipop, a hard candy or just an ice cream. Anything that could keep your mouth busy, you made sure to have. 

But it was only with him you did it. He never questioned it until now, when things started to click into place. 

“Innie are you even listening to me?” You say waving your hand in front of his face. He blinks a couple of times, taking account of the sweet treat in your hand. 

“What?”

“I said what pair of shoes should I get? I have loads of black, barely any white and little to no coloured ones. What are we feeling?” You say turning your laptop to face him. 

He looks at the choices of shoes you have presented in front of him. He never has been good with masking the expressions on his face; this time it shows one of disgust. 

You catch the expression quickly and you groan.

“You hate them all. You know what, forget this. I’m just gonna continue to wear the shoes I already have.” You say placing the lollipop in your mouth and turning the laptop back to your eyes only. 

Curiosity bested Jeongin as he looked at you with questioning eyes. 

“Why do you always have something in your mouth?”

You look at him with a raised eyebrow, taking the lollipop out of your mouth. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Like, for the past month, every time we hang out, you’re always eating.”

He realised he hadn’t quite worded that correctly as you squint at him. Though before you could press further he held his hands out, quick with an explanation. 

“No, not like that. I mean you always have a sweet or an ice cream. Why?”

You shrug, scrolling through a new clothing website you found. 

“I dunno, soothing I guess.”

“I can’t imagine it’s good for your teeth.” Jeongin says as he grabs the remote to the television. 

“We’re all gonna die anyways, what does it matter if it’s not good for my teeth.” He rolls his eyes at your logic, though he continues to browse through Youtube. 

“Just because we’re all gonna die, doesn't mean you have to speed up the process.”

You huff out a laugh, shaking your head. 

“I don���t think I’m going to die anytime soon from a few cavities Innie.”

He turns to look at you, momentarily peering over at your laptop screen. 

“I don’t know, I just feel like you should find other alternatives. You have good teeth, I’d hate to see them all withered away by the time we’re like forty.”

You turn to him and purposefully crunch down on your lollipop. 

“May I ask what made you decide to hone in on my habits? ‘Cause it seems you care very much for the health of my molars.” You taunt. 

“I…I don’t know. Was just curious I guess, whatever. What do you wanna watch?” 

                         ──・──・・✿ ・・──・──

Strange. From that day onwards , every single time you would hang out with Jeongin, he would notice that your mouth didn’t occupy a sweet treat. 

Perhaps he had gotten used to seeing your pretty lips moulded around something. Perhaps his mind would replace the sweet treat you were sucking for his dick. 

Gosh, no! He can not be thinking about you that way. Yet…the thought sends blood rushing straight to the core of his being. Not ideal with the warmth that the jacuzzi is providing and the sight of you in your bathing suit no less than a metre away. 

“You didn’t have a lollipop today.” He states as he plays with the bubbles that rise to the surface of the water. 

“I had a dream that I got really bad cavities and my teeth fell out. I’m not joking, it scared me so bad that I vowed to stop eating hard candies.” You exclaim. 

Jeongin bursts out laughing but you look at him with a deadpan face. 

“What was the joke? Because I fear I’m missing out.” You say crossing your arms and raising your eyebrow. 

At this, Jeongin stops laughing and rolls his eyes. 

“Oh come on, how do you expect me not to laugh at that?” He snickers. 

“It was a nightmare! I swear if I lose any teeth, I am going to gnaw on you with my gums until I make you bleed.” You say slinking further down into the jacuzzi. 

You’re brought out of your slump when Jeongin decides to playfully splash water at you. You get him back by splashing water directly in his face. His mouth was open from laughter and now he is choking on the water that he accidentally swallowed. 

He tries not to make a scene, but how could anybody possibly not when they are choking. Clutching the side of the jacuzzi he heaves and coughs. 

He feels the water move beside him and soon a hand patting him on his back quickly follows. 

“Alright tough guy, calm down.” You say patting and rubbing his back in small circles. 

This seemed to have helped him as now he turns back around and submerges himself in the water. But before his head went under, he could hear your giggles. 

Mischievousness graces Jeongin as he decides to grab your ankle under the water making you scream and grab ahold of his hair. 

He winces in pain as you pull him up and immediately start scolding him. 

Something about how if he does it again you will roundhouse kick him in the neck? He isn’t too sure as the water was still pouring out of his ears. 

“What’s got you so cranky as of late? You're having withdrawals from your sweet treats, huh?” Jeongin asks as he sits back down in the jacuzzi next to you. 

“No! Yes… I don’t know, I just feel so restless. Having something to suck just calmed my thoughts as weird as it sounds.” You voice frustratedly. 

Jeongin listens as you unload about how this weird obsession over needing something in your mouth has made it hard for you to focus if you don’t have something occupying your mouth. 

He says a silent prayer of forgiveness for what he is about to do. 

“You can always suck my fingers.” 

You look at him as if he just called you a hideous, vile creature. At least that’s the same look you gave him when he said that you were like ‘if cream cheese was a person.’

“You’re serious aren’t you?” He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. 

“It’s just me. I mean there are other things to suck.” You raise your eyebrow. “I’m joking.” He wasn’t joking. 

“But I can’t just suck your dry finger.”

“It’s not dry, see?” He holds up his hands as water cascades down his arm, “Perfectly wet, as all hands should be. Ignore that last part. I don't know what that meant.”

You chuckle softly at his nervousness. 

“I am not sucking hot tub water off of your finger Innie. Come, follow me.” You say as you get out, grabbing your towel. 

He follows quickly like a duckling following its mother as you lead him to the kitchen. You open it and get out a jar of honey. Turning to Jeongin with what you hold like a trophy, you stand there beaming and he can’t help but to swoon internally at how cute you are. 

“What about the tooth nightmare?” Jeongin quips. 

Your smile falls and you pout. 

Oh how he wants to kiss the pout off of your plump lips. 

“A little honey won’t hurt, like I said, I’m not sucking hot tub water off of your finger.” 

He watches as you dance around the kitchen, grabbing a teaspoon and taking a seat beside him on the island. 

As you scoop the teaspoon into the honey, he hears you mutter something along the lines of ‘I can’t believe I am doing this.’ 

You hold the spoon up to his mouth. 

“Have a little taste first, see if it’s nice.”

He squints playfully at you before his tongue pokes out of his mouth to taste the sweet substance. 

In the corner of his eye, he watches as your eyes bore into his lips. Being a tease, he licks them, just so he can witness that wonderful reaction in which you hitch your breath and then pretend you weren’t staring directly at his mouth. 

“Sweet as ever,” He swipes his index finger across the spoon and holds his finger up and makes a come hither motion. “Come taste for yourself.” 

You place the spoon on the island before leaning forwards to try and capture his finger. 

He moves his hand towards him, making you nearly fall off the stool. He chuckles deeply, his hand going to your thigh to steady you. 

“Come on, I said come and taste for yourself.” He teases. 

You sit back, your eyes momentarily looking at his smirk before it falls back to his finger. The honey glistens in the light, a trail making its descent down his finger as if it’s racing away to save its life. 

You grab his wrist, taking him by surprise, but he tsks at you. 

Ignoring his disapproval at your impatience, you slowly lick the trail of honey that was trying to escape. Your tongue ascends to the tip before your lips enclose around his finger. 

You close your eyes, relishing in the dulcet taste as you suck all of it off. 

The sight of you, his best friend, sat here in your bathing suit: damp, is making his head go berserk. He is trying to fight the violent urge to moan out loud at this sudden turn of events. 

What causes his swimming trunks to tighten is the moan you release around his finger at the taste. You had to have done that on purpose you little tease. 

Once sated, you release his finger with a pop. Looking up at him with a wide smile and a bat of your eyelashes, he swears he’s being hypnotised. 

This act alone has made an indelible impact on the relationship between the two of you. It would be a waste if he didn’t take this opportunity whilst it is still arising. 

And it certainly was an opportunity he would be an idiot to miss. Which is why it explains the way you two are situated on the sofa. Jeongin is sitting upright as your head rests on his thighs. Except your soft lips have moulded around his dick so nicely. 

You are cockwarming him. His suggestion considering he just couldn’t ignore the hard on he got from the way you sucked his finger earlier. 

Every now and then your cheeks would hollow or your tongue would swirl around the head or you would just take it upon yourself to bob your head up and down. 

“Y/n, being coy only gets you so far. You know what you’re doing, moving your tongue like that, shit. I thought you just wanted your mouth full hm?” He brings a hand down and starts to stroke the side of your head. 

You look up at him with those eyes and he can’t take it anymore. Not when you look as good and cute as you do right now. 

His hand that was stroking your head, grabs a fistful of your hair and uses it to tug and pull your head on and off his dick. 

Happily obliging, you start to pump him with your hand, twisting around the length. Your other hand focuses on playing with his balls, making him release a low moan. 

“Know you wanted this, huh baby? Yeah you did. You just wanted to have my fat cock on your tongue. Isn’t that right?” He says as his head lulls back. 

The film becomes a forgotten task as you drool and take him further down your throat. 

He pulls you off of him and you let out a small whine.

“What? Don’t whine. Do you already miss me in your pretty mouth?” He shakes his head. “I don’t want to come down your throat. Be good and let me fuck you right and I’ll let you suck my thumb yeah?” He says panting. 

You nod. 

“Need your words baby.”

“Yes, please fuck me Innie. Please let me have your thumb in my mouth, please.” You beg. 

He smiles and positions you so that you lay on your back. He lowers himself, kissing down the valley of your chest and down your stomach. His lips are soft as he kisses, licks and even sucks the skin down to your core. 

“It would be awfully rude of me to not taste how sweet you are before fucking you. You’d like that wouldn’t you? My mouth, my breath, my tongue.” He purrs. 

As he places open mouthed kisses around your core, you try to shut your legs but he opens them wider. His arms propped in a way where you can’t close them. 

Without warning, his mouth is on you. Wet, sloppy and warm as he devours you in your most sacred place of your body. 

“Just like that, Innie. Your fucking mouth, oh my~” You moan as your hands travel down to his hair, tugging on his roots. 

His tongue dances around your hole before entering it. The sensational feeling makes your back arch off of the sofa. 

He listened to your body, watched how it reacted to certain things he did. What sounds you made when he swirled his tongue. 

It wasn’t long before you came undone on him. That didn’t even seem to be what Jeongin had wanted to do most desperately, but he just had to taste you. 

You take a deep breath as he slips in. He goes slow at first, letting your body accommodate his size before he starts to lose his composure and fuck into you like a wild rabbit. 

Your moans are a symphony of pleasure and he loves nothing more than to listen to the sounds he is causing you to make. 

“Open your mouth pretty.” 

You do as you're told. He places his thumb in his mouth, wetting the pad before smearing some of it on your lips and shoving it into your awaiting mouth. 

You immediately start to suck on his thumb. His fingers rest on the side of your neck as his other hand resides on your hip. 

“You feel so good I don’t know if I can hold out. Look at you sucking my thumb like it’s my cock.” He says, his voice shaking. 

He continues to pump inside of you and you clench around him. He groans out and takes his thumb out your mouth and squeezes your cheeks together. 

“Squeeze me again darling and I’ll come.” Before you can speak, he closes the distance between the two of you and swallows your moans. 

Your tongues are certainly getting to know each other as you suck on it before you clench again making his hips falter and soon enough, filling you up. 

You follow suit not long after, reaching your high as you moan out his name and wrap your arms and legs around him. Trapping him as his arms give way and he falls on top of you. 

His head falls into the space between your head and your shoulder as he places soft kisses along your neck and collarbone. 

The hum of the television playing the movie the two of you paid no attention to plays as you both caught your breath and enjoy the silence between you. 

“You like mouths or something?” Jeongin breaks the silence. 

“Something like that. I like yours. Been dreaming of your lips on me since forever.” You say, your hands stroking down the crease in between his shoulder blades. 

“So fucking hot.” He lifts his head up and places a long, tender kiss to your lips. His hand caresses your side as he smiles down at you. 

“We need to restart the movie, don’t worry, I think I have some ice cream that we can eat.”

Since his suspicions were confirmed, Jeongin is sure to have a lot more fun with you!

ʚ hope you enjoyed ^.^ you can support me by liking, commenting  and reblogging! it is heavily appreciated ᵕ̈ ɞ

i do not permit my work to be translated or reposted in any way, thank you. 

© 2023 diddybok

TAGLIST: @lovestay4evr @sarahatthecrisco @dramaticnobody @fairy-lixie

[machveil]

Trying not to think about Simon 'Always Doing Acts of Service and Caring for Others Silently' Ghost Riley forgetting to care for himself as much, and how it would probably touch a part of his heart he thought wasn't there anymore if someone did the same for him. Something simple, like just a new jacket after his old one got wrecked from wear and tear, that's thick and durable but soft and comfortable, a nice weight on his shoulders but doesn't make him sweat, resting over his chair. Or after a long day of work where he's dragging himself along, finding a meal already made for him sitting in the fridge, something actually cooked and seasoned the way he likes so he doesn't have to think about cooking or go to bed on an empty stomach. Idk, this has been rattling around in my brain all day and I needed to get it out, sorry if this is weird! Also really like your art and writing, congrats on the 1k, you deserve it and so much more!

anon I’m smooching your big, beautiful brain (I wrote this in one sitting, hope it’s not terrible lol)

Simon Riley is a man of action - Ghost, the most literal manifestation of serving. Ghost follows and gives orders to assure his team, his friends, make it home safe at the end of a deployment. as a Lieutenant, Simon wouldn’t say it out loud, but he cares so deeply for his team. Task Force 141 is a second home to him, more so the people, and thus makes it his job to protect them

but Simon Riley is also a man of action off duty - a civilian who’s heart rests in your hands. loyal as a dog, Simon would do anything for you. a man of action, he’ll insist you relax, you shouldn’t lift a finger for something small. anything Simon can do in your stead he will. because, while his team is a second home, his true home is you

but Simon, stubborn and strong as he is, gets tired. front door clicking shut, mask already being tugged off, his muscles are tense and sore after a long day. dirty blond hair messy and eyes half lidded with exhaustion, he’s still only got one thing on his mind - to serve you and make you happy. he already planned on trudging into the kitchen to make dinner, something simple but filling. he pauses when he smells food already though

kicking his boots off, worn and dirty, he makes his way to the little kitchen around the corner. cracking a small, barely there smile at the sight in front of him. you, moving about the kitchen. the lights a little dim - he’d change the lightbulb later, and there you are, cooking a meal. one step ahead of him, and he soaks in the domestic scene. a part of him wants to step in, tell you you’ve done enough and he’ll finish everything off… but he doesn’t have the heart to disrupt this cozy, intimate moment

it’s only when you see him does he approach, hands a touch too rough and calloused - he’s sure you’ll make him moisturize later. “Smells nice, lovie.”, he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your hairline. eyes fluttering shut as he holds your hands, a small grin tugs at his lips, “S‘pose the food smells good too.”. he relishes in the laugh that leaves you, the way you squeeze his hands. he moves to press a kiss to your jaw, slightly crooked nose nudging against you as his hands wander to your hips - touch featherlight, as if handling you any rougher might shatter you

there’s a reluctance in his heart as he lets go of you, scoffing when you tell him to go sit down. “Bossy little thing.”, he mumbles, voice lighthearted as he leans back against a counter. he stays there for just a moment, one last glance at you happily cooking - cooking for him. it melts his heart knowing that you’re just a loyal as him, that you’d both run to the ends of the Earth for each other

he’s content to finally relax, leaving the kitchen to slump against a chair in the small dining room. head tilted back a little as he rolls his shoulders, his hands move to idly take his belt off - he’d change later, a hot shower after dinner always made him feel better. maybe he’d convince you to join him, better yet— maybe he’d convince himself to indulge in a hot bath instead. and when you join him at the table, sitting down next to him with a full plate for him, Simon feels butterflies in his stomach

he loves eating with you, sharing a meal and letting his guard down. gaze smitten as he listens to you recount your day, breathing steady as he hums. and when everything is done, stubborn man, he’ll take the dishes to the kitchen. as much as he’d like to wash them straight away, he settles for leaving them in the sink tonight. soon enough he’s sweeping you up in his arms - no matter how roughed up and sore he is, he always finds the strength to carry you. he’ll ignore any protest that, “Simon! I can walk—“, a gruff chuckle rumbling in his chest, “Know that, love, but I can carry you just fine.”

and from then on, Simon feels like he’s floating. in a dreamlike state, he sets you down on the cool bathroom floor, feet making contact with tile. gently thumbing at your hips, he presses a soft kiss to your lips, “Thank you.”. soft spoken words contrasting his gravely voice, another kiss pressed to your cheek - lips a little chapped, but he’s never heard you complain about them

and when you help each other slowly strip, the bathroom filling with mist like steam, he feels the tension in his muscles give. he puts up a little fight, grumbled words, when you insist on sudsing him up. he’s all bark though, when he feels you rub his aching shoulders he feels like he could never muster up any bite ever agiain. comfortable and turning to putty in your hands, he’ll happily let you mould him into a soft, gentle man

he’ll lazily return the favor, rough hands lathered in your body wash. content. feeling you under his palms, warm skin dotted with beads of water and bubbles, Simon’s content. a warmth in his chest that he’s still not used to. the simple intimacy of washing away the sweat and filth from the day, it makes Simon feel like a new man - and to wash you? he’s happy you feel safe enough, that you trust him, to handle you so carefully

and at the end of the night, cleaned from the dirt of his daily life, Simon settles in bed with you. all gentle touches and soft, murmured praise - you did so good for him today. he fights the back of his mind off, you’ve taught him better than to believe those gnawing words. Simon Riley deserves this. a phrase you carved into his heart, long since settled at the forefront of his mind. and as he holds you to his chest, warm hand on the small of your back, he sighs deeply…

a man of action deserves rest

[amyriadofleaves]

୨ kenji sato — old habits die hard. ˚୧

synopsis : kenji sato breaks under the weight of new, unfamiliar eyes ─ foolishly confessing his love to the public. you, the one that got away, are stupid enough to fall into his trap. will you two ever be able to just be friends?

⌗ pairing : kenji sato x fem!reader ; warnings : alcohol consumption, sexual innuendos ; word count: 3k ; angst!!!

© an amyriadofleaves work. do not plagiarise, translate, or use to train ai.

KENJI SATO, newly recruited, renowned and beloved baseball player of The Giants, is being interrogated to the bone.

“Come on, relationships have nothing to do with my career,” he sneers with a curl of the lip, guise of unease betrayed by the incessant movement of his knee concealed by the navy blue tablecloth.

A woman, clad in a blazer, follows up with her question. “They have everything to do with your career, Mr Sato. You return to Tokyo only weeks before your championship with the Dodgers. Why?”

The silent, yet deafening clicks of cameras give Kenji a pocket of air to swallow hard, clearing his throat into his fist. Perhaps it’s the heat of the moment, but he doesn’t realise that the baritone of his voice had been caught by the mic, blaring through the speakers. Not that it was his intention to shut the whole room up, but he’ll take his victories. 

Kenji eyes his PR team in the back of the room, giving them the look they’ve been trained countless times  to know he’s about to make a dumb move — after many close misses, perhaps this is the blow he deserves to take. “Ms. Wakita, right? Ever associate something you love with someone you’ve loved? Well — I’m simply here to feel a little closer to that someone. I hope you understand, Ms. Wakita, that I wish to not elaborate any further.” 

He shoots a small smirk at the camera airing this conference live, hoping with some semblance of his untouched ego that you’d see it.

Ami Wakita eyes him with an amused look, penning down every word of his down to a T. Kenji Sato, sitting on the other side of the room, takes a generous gulp of water before plastering that shit eating grin that glitters amongst the sea of camera flashes. “That’s all for tonight, everyone. Keep your eye out for the Ken Sato on the field.” A subtle wink at the camera goes unnoticed by the man behind it, but certainly not by you. 

Because nothing gets past you.

You chuckle nervously at the man seated next to you, the silhouette of your ex tracing every inch the projector can cover. Sure, word had spread about Ken Sato returning to Tokyo, but you thought it an utter sham; whether it was in the States, or home in Japan, gossip columns would and still will fight tooth and nail for ways of profit. And you, of all people, should know this well. Though hard to admit, his face swamped you with a multitude of emotions your trip to the bar was supposed to help with, but little Ken just had to ruin the fun — along with the pleasure your distraction, a white, tall, and borderline conceited man was supposed to provide you with.

Looks like that’s going to have to be another day, then.

“You a fan of that guy?” the man asks, brusquely pointing to the live broadcast. 

Adjusting your top, you sceptically analyse the way his eyes dip to your chest, and your brows furrow as his gaze trails lower, and lower… “More than a fan actually.” your voice comes out meek, and you think this is how you broadcast your lie to the world. But your audience is a tipsy man with a shell for a brain, so what threat does he bring to you?

More than a fan, huh? It was definitely more than that. From late night drinks to advancements you swear on your whole being to not speak of, you think you’d consider yourself more than that. 

Frankly, with no terms to address the man except for using the term ‘man’, you know nothing about the drunk specimen in front of you — and he knows nothing of you, either.

He scoots closer to you, arms rested against the bar table. The stifling scent of his cologne does nothing to drown the beer’s breath with every syllable coming out his mouth. “Well if you’re the fan you claim to be, how have you not recognised me yet?”

You almost scowl at his cockiness. It’s even worse than Ken’s! God. “Well, unfortunately, I only focus on the important players. ” Your words come out muffled as you take a shot of vodka, sliding it across the table to request for another to add to your tab. It’s your fifth, and you haven’t even started feeling fuzzy yet; this is going to be a long night.

The man, on the other hand, seems piss drunk — and given your observations, this is only his third shot.

Lightweight, you note, his flushed cheeks and lidded eyes a spectacle for sore eyes. You feel your heart constrict into itself; for a second, in your stupor, his face flits to Ken's. Pulling away from him, you turn your head to the couple sat in a booth to divert your attention, but it only makes matters worse — so you resort to shutting the world out.

“I could show you how important I am if you’d come over to my place,” the man mewls, slithering his hand onto your thigh. It’s awfully easy to catch his bluff, and you certainly aren’t buying that awful sneer.

A nervous, polite laugh leaves your lips before you swat his arm away with a chastising glare. “I think you’ve got this wrong. I don’t think you know how important I am.”

He begins to giggle, and he keeps on giggling until he’s caught by a snort. You can’t help but grimace. There are many things you aren’t sure of, but you know for a fact that there was absolutely no shot that this man was an athlete. “And just who might you be?”

A satisfied smile tugs at the sides of your lips. “That just gives you your answer. I’m too important for you, and our conversation is over.”

You grab your purse and slam a hundred dollar bill onto the table, swiping the man’s shot and downing your own shot and his at once. The buzz of alcohol numbs the burn as it travels down your throat. 

He grabs your wrist with a quivering grip. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Haven’t you heard? I am the most demanded model in this city. So if you think you can win me over with sweet talk, you’re wrong.” You wrench the hold he has on you, and backhand him (though the swing is terribly calculated). 

See, if you were sober, you would’ve held him to it — that he owed you. But with seven shots of vodka now finally working its way through your system, you let it slide.

Your stilettos click angrily against the marble floor, and you walk out with two lies.

The first: You weren’t at the bar for a good time.

The second: You definitely aren't a model at the biggest agency in Tokyo.

The bell tied to the handle of the door jingles as you storm out (with a concerning amount of difficulty) of the bar with your thumb out on the road. 

“Taxi!” you shout, to no fruition. 

After ten minutes of nothing, an orange taxi stops and swerves to your end of the sidewalk.

Stumbling into the taxi with nothing to show for the decorum you had seven shots ago, you slip off your heels and hug the headrest of the taxi driver. “To the Sato Residence please,” you command — or so you think you do — before keeling to the side and vomiting up your dinner.

“Ken. I don’t think that was a very good idea,” the supercomputer Mina reprimands, robotic arms reaching for her spherical head. 

Ken maintains an unbothered pose with his arms crossed. “But it sure as hell was an amazing one.” He curtly taps the bottom of his couch with his heel to reach for a drink in his mini fridge, only for it to shine with the enthusiasm of seven coconut water cans.

“Ugh Mina,” he groans, sliding a clammy hand down his face. “Do you not have anything else?”

“Would you like it if I gave you water instead?”

This only spurs him to move both his hands to cover his face in what Mina detects is shame. She floats closer to him, the light of her eyepiece a stinging pain against the backdrop of dimness. “Is something wrong? I detect you are going through… some stress.”

“Yes Mina, yes I am! And it’s not ‘cause I just outed being in love with someone in Tokyo —” He trails off, digging himself into a deeper hole when hit with the realisation that Tokyo, out of the cities in Japan, is a small world of connection. Everyone knows everyone. Shit.

She reaches for a can of coconut water with a metallic arm and opens it, offering it to him. Ken, coming empty for excuses, accepts the drink, wincing as he sips it. “It’s ‘cause I still — nevermind.”

“Because you still what, Ken?”

“Goddamnit Mina. Do I have to spell it out for you? I still miss this girl!” He thinks of you and almost makes himself sick at the thought of you with another man; and for a sudden, lurching moment, he wishes he never had an imagination at all. 

He slumps into his seat, peeking through the slits of his fingers, admittedly curious to see what the robot’s reaction to his statement would be. 

Ken visibly wilts when she doesn’t move a muscle — or robotic limb, or whatever.

“Would you like for me to contact her?” “Yeah no, no.” He shakes his head, but stops mid-action. “Wait — how do you know who I’m talking about? I don’t think I’ve ever talked about her, have I?”

She floats around him as if in orbit, and pokes at his head. He whines out an ow! “You have. When severely intoxicated. Which is why I’m not giving you anything other than coconut water.” “God save me.” 

And that He does, when Ken’s moping is interrupted with a ding of the entrance. 

You rethink what you’ve known about yourself, and it’s that you certainly cannot take seven shots of vodka, and that it leads you to doing stupid things: like walking half a kilometre of an automatic bridge just to have it out with Ken Sato. 

Any normal person would have walked the distance in less than five minutes, but it took you twenty. Still, in your eyes, pretty impressive. You give yourself a pat on the back; but for some reason, the intention is off and you’ve just slapped yourself in the chest. Way to go.

The alarm to his house doesn’t blare when you heave the gate open. Woah, since when did it get so heavy? You giggle to yourself, the prospect of no alarms going off an unimportant matter in the midst of your exhilaration.

Stumbling to his doorstep, your heels click sloppily on cement — confident stride muffled by the slurring of words you never knew existed in the first place. You feel your way to the entrance, sliding your hands across a bike — his bike. If your sight wasn’t blurred, you could spot a polaroid of a familiar face taped just a little to the left of the speedometer.

Your wandering hands lose hold of the vehicle and feel for the doorbell, and clumsy you misses the mark. Bullseye, your Ken would say, glimmering with all the love in the world when your arrow proved as accurate as your aim.

Leaning against a pillar, you almost slip forward before the door opens just in time. But instead of meeting marble, you meet the warmth of an embrace.

Seeing him in the flesh stirs something terribly nostalgic you could definitely use for vomiting in the taxi again.

“Hey, Ken Sato, how’s it going?” you mumble with your gestures sluggish — and ultimately, very miscalculated; so your attempt at sounding sober goes to waste the second you bump head first into the man who completely did not expect to see you.

Ken stumbles backward in both surprise and the sudden addition of weight on either side of his arms; and to him, you sound like a garbled mess. But above all, you’re still the same girl who cussed him out the first time you met. 

You try to walk, but the attempt goes to shit, and you see a floaty thing manifest a bed at Ken’s own command. Crazy stuff. You almost fall for Ken’s offer to carry you, but you’re not one to fall back into bad habits.

When you sag onto the mattress, you see him crouch down so your face is level with his. “[Name], what happened?” 

“You happened, Ken. Finally found me worthy enough to come back for? I saw your little speech about love at that press conference,” you seethe, ignoring how your words end in a quiver. Brimming, hot tears, betray whatever semblance of composure an intoxicated woman can hold for herself. Suck it up, you tell yourself — because if you needed to cry, it would not be in front of the reason.

This mantra doesn’t seem to hold for any longer than you think it will, because you finally find something that makes you break: his own, crestfallen curl of the lip.

“Hey, hey,” he starts, hesitantly reaching to wipe the tears staining your face. But seeing you after two years, such intimacy came at a price: your complacency. Would she want it? Want me? He thinks, eyes diverted so he wouldn’t have to bear the sight of someone he never knew as messy. Someone he never knew to break. 

He, against all his strongest desires, retracts his hand. In some act of desperation, in some act of needing to feel him, you take his hand and press it against your cheek. He brushes the tears pooling around his thumb in slow circles, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. You wouldn’t consider his words nothing, not after he mutters a quiet, incomprehensible ‘I won’t leave you. Not this time.’ under his breath. 

Nothing gets past you.

“But you lied. And I believed you. Over and over —” you hiccup, your hand over your mouth to muffle your cries. 

His voice softens a notch, and it's so subtle someone as wasted as you wouldn’t notice, but you find you notice it more than you would’ve with a clearer mind. “I know, I know. And I’m sorry.”

“Are you really? Because the last time I checked, you were the one who left me behind.”

He doesn’t reply.

He knows he should take your words with a grain of salt, and against his better judgement, he doesn’t. To be frank, he never did. Every word from your lips dripped with golden honey, and he still, against his better judgement, savours every last drop.

You choke up on a sob, and Ken rushes to trace lines from the cliff of your shoulder bone to the very tips of your fingers. It was something he used to do — a little joke between the two of you. Something you shook off as a placebo, and something he insisted helped you with your anxiety.

Or rather, the only way he knew how.

It was — and still is, the only way for him to level the wrinkles of your face, just so he could at least see you soothe in his arms — for some morbid part of him crunches up at the thought of this being the last time he sees you; in this state, delirious, yet, for lack of better words: painfully right.

“I just — I just wish we could go back to being us,” you croak, reaching to trace the fine lines of his face. Your touch blindly feels for the familiar: the dip from his jawline to the nape of his neck, the scar soldered into his cheekbone, the softness of his lips. 

All rhyme or reason (if there was any to begin with) blurs into the fray, and the war raging in your chest comes to a standstill, docile in nature. You feel his Adam's apple bob against your touch, and your hand travels, and travels, until met with your comfort against the cacophony of searing voices. 

The approach is slow and borderline sloppy — though you can’t expect much of it. It’s just how things were with the two of you. Your lips hover against his, before you give up everything you’ve ever believed in for a crash against his lips, the taste of vodka weaving into his veins (except that it’s not the vodka, it’s very obviously you).

He rounds around the curve of the bed to feel you, and you let his hands wander. Some part of you screams in reprimand — that for some inexplicable reason, you’d regret this in the morning. But why would you regret having everything you’ve wished for in the very palm of your hands?

That is exactly why.

The high is stripped from you like an angel of its wings, and you pull away, eyes puffy and lips swollen. “I — we can’t do this.”

He pulls away, brows knitted. “We can’t and yet we still are doing this! [Name], what is it you really want?” His eyes search yours for an answer, before he gives you that look again. 

You smile, and this time, it’s beautifully real. “I don’t know. But it has to stop. We’re a mess, can’t you see?”

“Yes, we are. But that was our thing.” That is our thing, a voice inside him screams, but the words die on his tongue. Again, and again, his words fail him like he does a lost game.

Everything around you is a swirl of blocked colour, but you squint through the grain and push him away with a light nudge of his chest against your palms.

“And it isn’t gonna stop until one of us does,” you say, biting your lip from going back on your word.

“We can make it work. I promise,” he begs, reaching for your hands. 

In an attempt to shrug off your daze, you rake a hand through your hair and reach for your purse that had fallen in the heat of it. “We loved each other, Ken. But I think we should stop convincing ourselves we still do.”

His eyes flit to the floor, and his tousled hair falls against his nose. And to a certain pair of people an arbitrary moment ago, they would’ve thrown themselves against all propriety upon white bed sheets with sun peeking through the blinds, and your fingers would’ve combed through strands of tousled, jet black hair that appeared honey like in the dawn.

Through the haze of your high, you catch a glimmer of hope you’ve never seen him have. “Please, you’re still drunk. Let us discuss this when both of us are in our heads, yeah?”

Tilting your head to the side, it is your only sign of complacency that he recognises amidst it all. Through your insobriety, your smile can only tell him just as much: 

This is never gonna end, and we both know it so.

a/n: hello hello!!! please excuse the sappiness i've written the bulk of this at times where I shouldntve been awake GOD I blame it on the fact that this guy actually consumes every morsel of my SOUUL

[stormyelliotwritez]

do u think that like dating poolverine would you meet one over the other first or both at the same time and like how would that happen like omg the thoughts in my brain are thinking so hard rn. like. who falls first. how do yall get tgt. that kinda stuff.

i feel like theres so many ways this could go but i wanna hear your opinions… c:

okay okay okay, i have thoughts and thanks for this!!!

so if you’re a merc/hero like them and you meet after dp&w:

you meet deadpool first and you guys playfully flirt and you against your better judgement find yourself falling for him

hes oblivious af coz he can’t stop thinking about wolvie

he invites you over for like dinner and some drinks coz he wants wolvie to make friends

logan can smell the want and the affection on you and he can hear your heartbeat racing when you talk to them

he tells wade and it clicks for him and he realizes wait he can like you too so he falls for you and then logan does too

you get together by play flirting and then it becoming real flirting and then they’re inviting you to stay the night and soon enough you’re moving in and being cuddled all the time

if you’re in the void and you’re like a hero ig

they meet you in the building with elektra and gambit and blade and laura

you’ve been there so long that you don’t even care about romance and all that coz who has the time when smoke tries to eat you

wades so taken in by everything that he doesn’t really notice you but logan does and hes like damn that guys hot and emotionally dead so just his type

he starts initiating conversations and flirting with you like an old man by offering you a beer and teasing you

if you die at cassandra’s, he asks b-15 to bring you back and them wade falls for you when he sees how you and logan are so good for each other

if you go with them to go to wades home, wade falls for you when you help them fight the other hims (totally not mostly coz you’re hot when you fight)

you three get together after the events of the movie when you and logan have moved in with wade and it just kinda happens

If you’re their neighbor:

wade sees you around and mentions you to logan every so often

they kinda stalk you, well normal people would call it stalking but they just make sure you get home safe and nobody annoys you

after a while, you start noticing them around and you end up with a crush on them

so if you make it look like someones scaring you, then that’s your own business

they save you and then Wade immediately starts flirting with you and logans just like wanna have a beer and like any slightly not sane person, you say yes to the two men who’ve technically been stalking you

you guys get together by just the normal way of talking, then going on dates and then dating

those are what i can think of at the moment but if anyone wants to know my opinion of how you’d get with them in other scenarios, please ask me!!!!

[hippolotamus]

can nobody hear me? (i've got a lot that's on my mind)

some EddieKaren thoughts that have been rolling around my brain since the end of S7 🫶

“How did you do it?” Eddie asks, staring into the wine glass loosely held in his grasp. “Do what?” Karen raises a brow at him before taking a sip of her Pinot Noir.  Eddie decides that’s a good idea, too. Something he can do to stall while the full bodied liquid bursts with flavor on his tongue. Earthy, oaky, all the little nuanced notes Eddie’s never been able to discern quite like other people. He knows hops, summer ales and IPAs, but tannins or detecting Napa versus some remote region in France? Not really his forte.  “The empty room,” he finally supplies. “When-"  He doesn’t finish his sentence - can’t finish it - but he doesn’t think he’ll have to.  “Oh.” Karen slowly lowers her glass to the coffee table and folds her hands in her lap.  “The first night-“ She fixes her gaze on a spot by the door, as if she expects to relive the nightmare all over again at any moment. “The first night without Mara was absolute hell. We sat in her room for hours, me and Hen. Like worried parents waiting up for someone we knew wasn’t coming.” She continues to stare, clicking her thumbnails together. “In the morning it was almost worse. To wake up and remember all over again. To realize nothing had changed except the position of the sun. Our daughter was still gone. Ripped right out from under us.”  He watches as her jaw ticks and she swallows down the bitter memories. She finally looks at him, her face painted with compassion and a watery smile. “But life didn’t stop. No matter how much we wanted it to. We still had Denny. He reminded us that we weren’t the only ones hurting.”  Eddie shifts uncomfortably in his chair, wanting to hide from her subtle insinuation. The way she always sees through him. “It was him and trying to figure out how to get Mara back. How to get our family back. That's what kept us going. What kept us from giving up on everything else.” A tangle of emotions sits in his chest, barbed wire slowly ensnaring his heart and lungs. He doesn’t have another kid to keep him afloat, or a villain councilwoman to fight. Only himself. Well, him and his demons. The voices in his head telling him he should have died in Afghanistan. Or on the sunny streets of LA. The insistent whispers that he should have skipped the step where he dared to hope, that he should have conceded Chris to his parents in the beginning. He wishes fixing this was as easy as convenient body cam footage.  “Hey.” Karen lightly touches his shoulder, just enough to remind him she’s still there. “He’ll come back.” It’s meant to be a comfort, he knows that. Except it feels like a platitude, the way people say ‘remember the good times’ when someone close dies. A part of him wants to throw the wine, to ask how she can say that. Because she doesn’t know. Just like Eddie didn’t know he would ever have to be without Chris again. A different piece of him wants to throw a tantrum. He wants to be the one screaming for once and making demands of the unfeeling universe.  Instead, he gives her a tight nod. “I hope so.”

[tartarusknight]

The Fallen King and the King of the Freaks | Part 1

Ao3 Link | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

Steve didn't have the heart to tell the kids about how Billy didn't back off after Max's threat. Not when they seemed to look up to him for some reason. So, instead, he stayed out of Billy's way as much as he could. But it seemed like the man was hunting him down. It got to the point that Steve dropped basketball.

Steve got used to being slammed into lockers and taunts from the people he used to friends with. So what if he wasn't top dog anymore? So what if he didn't have any friends his own age? So what if Nancy dumped him (ripped his heart out and stomped on it with bullshit)? So what if Billy left bruises on his body with well time jabs and kicks? Steve was an adult he could handle this...

However, as he was shoved into the janitors closet and hearing the lock click behind him, he thought maybe it was getting worse. He slammed his shoulder to the door but it didn't budge and he heard Billy's stupid laughter outside. "Enjoy your alone time, princess," Billy taunted.

Steve slid to the ground and tried not to panic. He wasn't going to freak out just because it's dark and he doesn't have anything to protect himself. He really wasn't going to. He wasn't that much of a loser that he was scared of the dark.

Then he started to cry. He normally was a silent crier, but normally, he wasn't struggling to breathe. He curled around himself and tried not to think of creatures with mouths that took up their entire head and opened like flower petals. Really, he was trying. But Steve just couldn't focus.

There was a soft voice outside the door that shook him from his isolation. "Hey man, you alright?" A dude questioned, and Steve tried to focus so he could answer. "Imma pick the lock, just gimme a minute. I've got ya," the voice was smooth, and Steve squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't really want to be seen at the moment, but he wanted out more.

The door clicked, and Steve crawled back so it could open. Eddie Munson was crouched there, a few things in his hands that he probably used to pick the lock. The known drug dealer looked frozen in shock at the sight of Steve, and Steve basically plowed into him to get out of the room quickly.

His brain was fried, and he really wanted to cling to Munson and let the calm voice focus him. Instead, he backed off and pressed his back to the wall, hanging his head between his thighs. "Thanks," he mumbled and hid his tear stained face from the other.

"Uh, it's um, not a problem... Usually, I'm helping others after you pick on them, though," Eddie's voice wasn't as soft as it had been. It made Steve wince and curl up tighter on himself. Of course, Munson would hate him...

"Never shoved anyone in janitor closets before," he said instead.

"Ahh, lockers then."

Steve shook his head, "You could really hurt someone doing that. What if no one found them? Or if they passed out or something?" He pointed out and finally looked up at the other boy. Eddie was just staring at him like he's never seen Steve before. "I never wanted to hurt anyone," Steve breathed out, but it came out more snappish than he meant it to.

"Right... so how come King Steve was shoved into the closet?" Eddie questioned and Steve looked away from him. "Did you sleep with someone's girl-"

"Jesus man, I get it! You hate me but can you fucking stop? Not everything that happens to me is my fault, okay?" Steve snapped, and Eddie flinched back. "Fuck, stop acting like I'll hurt you, Jesus. Billy's just an asshole who needs a punching bag, okay? And he learned that he can take he down, okay?" He gestured to the slowly healing bruises on his face.

Eddie was staring at him, "why you?"

Steve scoffed, "cause he can't take it out on his sister anymore? Cause he's an asshole with mommy issues? Or maybe just because he knows I won't fight back! I don't know, I'm not in his brain! I don't know what he thinks when he trips me in the hallway or throws a ball at my head in the gym!"

Eddie blinks and gets up to his feet, but then he holds out his hand in offering. "Come on, man." Steve takes it and lets Eddie pull him to his feet. He's still a little shaky, but he manages to stay on his feet. "I've been known to adopt lost sheep," he's guided away towards the exit and he's so shocked he doesn't fight it.

"Thought you hated me," He points out.

Eddie laughs, "eh, you can just buy me dinner." Eddie pauses for a moment, but Steve is already nodding. It makes Eddie grin, and he throws an arm around his shoulder. "Welcome to the land of the outcasts. Here I'm the king." He gestures to the group of people smoking by one of the picnic benches outside.

"You'll lose a few cool-dude points if you're seen with us," Eddie smiles like it's funny but Steve just feels bad. These were the people he never stood up for. These were the people he never looked at, just ignored.

Steve smiles and looks at Eddie, "you inviting me into the Munson cult?"

Eddie's grin goes sharp, "You gotta earn that. I'm offering you a starting point."

Steve thinks about how lonely he's been and how kind Eddie's voice had been. "So, how do I climb up the ladder? My only skills are giving rides, basketball, and hair."

"Don't forget the Harrington charm," Eddie grins and it's kinder. "Show us yourself, and we'll see from there." He whispers before turning to the group of people.

"Gentlemen, we have a traveler from the halls of royalty! He's come to bless us with his presence!" Eddie's voice is filled with so much emotion. Steve almost misses the way the group tenses up.

Steve might have a while to go before they trust them. But he thinks maybe it could be worth it. Especially as Eddie looks back at him with a smile that makes Steve's stomach flip. "Uh, hey," he smiles awkwardly, wiggling his fingers in greeting.

[semischarmed]

Danny

Always have to keep you guys guessing ;) so this one is veeeeery different from my normal content, but I figured I’d put something tamer to balance out the upcoming Pt. 2 to that Thread story. It’s a bit long, but I didn’t feel like keeping two concurrent multi-parters. Let me know what you think!

=============

“So, it’s the necklace?” I asked the professor at the university. It was a wonder I was able to keep up with even half of the lecture that had just transpired. 

“Something like that.” The professor replied back to our small group. “We’re all just a sea of electrical impulses. With this computer model, we can accurately track and mimic the exact electrical shocks needed to replicate a mind. Of course, the mind is so much data, the transfer-the upload needs to be instantaneous with an equivalent download- the university doesn’t give us enough grant money for computers that can store that much data, much less secure it. So, we needed biological means of storage. That’s why there’s an even number of participants”.

The room was utterly confused. For one, there was definitely an odd number of participants. Dr. Cohn was never known for dumbing down complex concepts, but even the smartest kids in class seemed stumped the past few hours. Maybe he didn’t have to go in that level of depth for his experiment.

Our group was a mix. It seemed like a sampling of the very best of the class, and a few average performers. I did find it weird they offered extra credit to students that probably didn’t need it. Sticking out like a sore thumb was Chad. He was the school quarterback, though no one was sure for much longer, as he was on academic probation. I couldn’t help but speculate with Kat, a top performer, on his placement. Combining our limited knowledge on the students in our class, and the school’s football team, we landed on this being some sort of extra credit that the university probably forced on poor Dr. Cohn. Ever the nosy one, Mackenzie piped in. “Of course they’d try to save their star quarterback. I heard 3 professors already quit trying to bring up his GPA. This is basically his last shot“.  

And then there was Danny. Part of that “very best” group. Unlike the other students in the room, he seemed to take in the professor’s whole lecture and was deep in thought. His face lay still, serene. But I could see the intelligence behind his eyes spinning to life. I always liked when he did that, like he was chewing on an idea before spitting out the most brilliant insights. Or maybe I just like how the corner of his mouth would turn up into a small smile when he finished thinking things through. I caught myself staring again, thanking my luck that no one had seen. Mackenzie laughed a little behind me. I sighed, laughing a small defeat. Almost no one had seen. 

“So it basically swaps our brains?” Danny inquired. He looked around the room, gauging our comprehension. That was when it clicked for me. He took note and let out a small smile. I smiled back. That was the other thing I liked about the guy. He always seemed to want everyone to succeed. This wasn’t the first time he’d thoroughly condense a difficult topic into a quick word or phrase the class could understand. His eyes smiled whenever he could recognize concepts “clicking” for people and I saw it do the same as my other classmates- even Chad- figured it out. I recoiled a little, from a nudge from Mackenzie. I sighed again, airing a “thank you” her way. I had been staring again.

“No, nothing like that! Could you imagine how difficult an operation like that would be? All this does is swap your mind.” Aaaand just like that, we were back to confusion. Danny smiled though.

“Got it. So your brain’s the hardware, your mind’s the software. The necklaces do a switcheroo and then new hardware, same software- or, vice versa, I suppose.” Back on track.

“Wait, how much of ‘me’ is in the hardware? Like my memories?” I blurted out, immediately growing red. That seemed to have garnered an approving smile from Danny. I grew redder.

The professor’s eyes lit up. “Now you’re thinking like a scientist.” He laughed before shrugging. “Who’s to say… we are running an experiment after all”. Dr. Cohn always was a messy one.

“So, uh, how long is it supposed to last?” Mackenzie asked.

“That’s the fun of it, once we’re paired, the switch can go for as little or as long you as want!” We. That threw me off a little. I caught his glance to Chad. “Don’t worry, I’ll be a part of this experiment too.” The professor said, with a smile that felt too wide. “Don’t forget to record your notes and thoughts into this log book. For privacy, they’ve been password protected- we’ll reconvene this little group in a year and just draft up a summary of your experiences from these books.”

There was an obvious question everyone’s mind. Thankfully, Kevin asked it. “So who’s swapping with who?”

The professor’s eyes lit up in excitement. “We’ve all been paired, randomized of course. I’ll leave the pairings to figure out when they’d want to swap. Just put on your necklaces at 6pm tonight and start your log books. After that, whenever either of you squeezes your necklace, the swap will ensue”. From the way the professor’s eyes kept darting to Chad, something told me it hadn’t been entirely random.

I thought through the possible pairings. Kevin was kind of cute, I guess. Though I wasn’t sure if it was just the airport effect with how limited our group size was. Kat or Mackenzie would just be weird. Mackenzie especially- that girl knows a little too much about me and lord knows what she’d do behind my wheel. Running down the list of people, there was Chad. Of course, who wouldn’t want to be in Chad’s shoes- I had to dispel a dirty thought that passed my mind. Everyone’s probably thinking it. The professor’s body wouldn’t be too bad either, I could always just pressure the faculty into giving me better grades, maybe boost the grades of my friends. And then there was Danny. Danny. My heartrate shot up instantly.

Sitting in my dorm room, I looked at the clock with a bit of fear. “5:55 pm,” it read. I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves. “5:59 pm”. Nope. There was nothing calm about this. I closed my eyes shut, as I felt the necklace whir a little. Looks like someone else already squeezed it. 

Zzzip

=============

“Log book 1: 

<3

It was Danny. Holy fuck, I got to be in Danny.”

I stared at the journal entry. That was all I could manage to write with my shaking hands. I could hardly believe it. A lifetime can change in 5 minutes, apparently. My heart was still beating and my face still flushed when we switched back. He had a soccer game so our first meeting had to be short. 

 My first minute was just looking down at my new Danny-worn hands, breathing through his lungs, inhaling as much as I could of his room. I wanted to commit this man to memory. My logic-or, Danny’s logic perhaps, told me there would inevitably be more swaps to come, but my mind wouldn’t have it. Whatever piece of Danny I could get, however minuscule, I wanted to stretch every moment infinite.

I felt a sense of guilt wash over me, as my new Danny-worn package began to harden when I realized he was in soccer gear. I tried to shake off the feeling- I couldn’t do that to him. Then came the text. I recognized the number of course, it was my old body’s. “Hey man, glad to see we’re partners”. My heart stirred. “It’s Danny, but you probably already knew that”. To see him text me so casually froze me in place. “Anyways, I do have a game coming up, mind if we switch back?” I couldn’t even bring Danny’s hands to answer himself. “I’ll take that as a yes”.

Zzzip

And just like that, I was back. My hand clinging to my chest, breaths ragged. 

Wait, Fuck. Was I still hard in his body when we switched back?

=============

Zzzip

“Log book 7:

Met up today. Joint gym day. 

Gym feels better in Danny’s body. Unsure if exercise has a different effect on people’s bodies, or if it’s tied to our minds. Seems to be a lag in my emotions.”

I’m not really one to be consistent with exercise. I set the book down, and relocked it, panting as I had in our first switch, but this time due to Danny working my body to the brink.

I think he noticed, because he apologized profusely when I slumped in the bench to catch my breath in the locker room.

I can’t believe I had agreed to it. Danny wanted to test the effects of exercise with different bodies. He stated he wanted to see what it was like doing routine exercises in a different body. Does the body retain that physical memory? Or is it the mind? I only agreed because it was Danny. So, there I was, in the school gym staring at the door like a fish out of water. 

I felt a reassuring hand on my back before my ears immediately shot red when I realized whose hand it was. “Do you have your log book on hand? Should probably write down notes immediately after the switchback”. I immediately panicked at thought that he wanted to compare notes, thinking back to my first entry but he seemed to have caught on to my thought process and immediately dismissed the idea. “It wouldn’t make sense to taint the data with outside factors. Danny was probably the only person that fully understood the professor’s entire experiment so I took his word for it.

When we swapped, I had to focus on not instantly growing hard. For someone seemingly so bookish, the guy was surprisingly fit. Walking to the treadmill, I felt every muscle brimming with power. My first run in his body. Euphoric. Danny was a well-oiled machine. Every component moving in tandem. Lungs drawing in and out powerful gusts of air. Eyes staring me in the mirror, furrowed in powerful determination, and legs gliding with a grace that did not diminish the power behind each foot. I lost myself in the exercise, content to just being inside his body, guided by his body. I finished the run with a heavy pant, knowing full well I’d be hard beyond belief at what lay before me. I eyed myself in the mirror, in sweat-laden body of my crush. The scent was indescribable. Like a pleasant musk basking in the damp earth. Was it always this good? Was this how other people felt when they exercised? I twirled the necklace around Danny’s neck, making sure to not squeeze, mentally thanking whatever gods there may be for this experience.

I looked back at Danny, in my body. His running form was a bit clumsy, but there was a confidence in them that I didn’t often see in myself. Maybe a trick of the light, or residual feelings from the run I just had but I was captivated. I honestly looked almost cute like this. 

He finished, panting before immediately pulling out his book and writing a few notes. He beamed back at me, pointing at the necklace. Even in my body, that smile was unmistakably his. I smiled back, ready to swap once more.

Zzzip

Weird. I still felt the infatuation. I looked back at the body I had just inhabited, still feeling the butterflies in my stomach. It was Danny so I was used to those, but not immediately after a swap. The past few times it always took a second or two to readjust. Danny looked at me, a bit uncomfortable. No doubt it had been from the grave face I was making. I shook my head, not wanting to worry him. Or worse, force a premature end to this experience. “It’s nothing, just a hell of an exercise haha”.

This may be a bit of a problem.

=============

“Interesting, and you’re sure it’s residual feeling?” Said a slightly disinterested Chad, eyeing his dreamy biceps.

“Yes, when I.. uh.. felt angry in his body and switched back, my body did too.”  

“Well it is a swap, of course so your mind returning to its body would feel the same things it felt…” The professor in chad’s body spoke in a slightly faraway tone, like there was something he’d rather be doing. “Though, it shouldn’t be this instant. It’s not physically possible unless…”

I winced, worried for the worst and hoping to remain Danny’s partner.

“This might be a bit of an issue if those necklaces are defective…” He then mumbled something about permanent effects on the mind. “If they are, we’d have to stop the entire experiment. It wouldn’t be right-“ The professor caught a glimpse of Chad’s body in the reflection of his door before looking back at me. “Look, maybe just limit the swaps to low pressure situations, and try to avoid high-emotion situations in case your ‘residual’ hypothesis is correct. Cause if that were true, it would mean you leave a little of yourself every time you swap.”

“Got it, professor”.

“Maybe keep this side effect a little secret for now. We wouldn’t want the others worrying and tainting the data,” Chad’s body spoke in an authoritative tone as his hands sauntered below the desk. “Oh, and please close the door on your way out“.

=============

“Log book 50:

Pain.” 

We had been swapping fairly frequently, despite the professor’s warning. Danny was a drug I couldn’t shake. The guy was my kryptonite and he had no idea. Everytime we swapped, every moment we shared, I couldn’t bring myself to tell him about the professor’s words. Every swap back, I could feel my heart beating as wildly as my first time, stomach churning pleasantly. It was like a wave of sweetness whenever I had a chance to be Danny. Then, the guilt came soon after.

Danny seemed to like the spontaneity. Eventually, we settled on free-switching, aside from classes. Some days, I’d randomly switch and my eyes would focus on my homework, completed with a little smiley face drawn on the corner. I tried that little trick with him once, only to get a text back of his graded assignment, scored uncharacteristically low for the top performer, followed by another text “Nice try anyway lol” 

=============

“Log book 190:

I hate you.”

Zzzip

“Danny, is something wrong?” The shock of the situation stopped me from initially processing anything I was seeing. My clumsy hands. I had been fumbling with my collar, when I accidentally initiated a swap. A wave of embarrassment hit, and then anger. Seething, bottomless anger.

I almost dropped the flowers Danny’s body had been handing her. Without explanation, I quickly squeezed the necklace to send me back.

Zzzip

I sat in stunned silence for a second, before the anger drew me back to my thoughts.

Who was I angry at? Of course it was a girl. He had to have been dating around. It was presumptuous to even think we were anything more than partners in a crazed professor’s experiment. And yet, I was still angry. Irrationally angry at Danny for not picking up on the hints, maybe angry at the professor for dragging me into this mess in the first place. But most of all, I was angry at myself. 

I felt the buzz of a text, ears still heated. Danny again. “You ok?”  

I sighed as reasoning took over and anger transformed into sadness. I wrote a quick note in the log book, then pulled my phone up before texting back. “Yeah”.

“Lol Claudia says hi”, came a text back. I gritted my teeth, not wanting to impart any jealousy in my response, but I was soon stopped by another text. 

“If you wanted to meet my sister, you should have just asked lol”.

=============

“Log book 290

I’m stupid. I’m sorry. I’m stupid. I’m sorry.”

I’m so sorry. I said to Danny in my head, as I slumped in my chair. You’re so fucking stupid. I told myself. These past few months swapping back and forth with Danny had been a dream. 

From something as simple swapping before brushing his teeth to even taking a class as him. I savored every single moment. 

But as the experiment had been drawing to a close, and as I felt my time nearing and my guilt intensifying, other, less kind thoughts bubbled in my head. 

What if I did ‘that’ in his body. What if I did it while thinking of my own body. I gulped. Danny didn’t know, and from what I could tell, he hadn’t suspected a thing. “Maybe I could make him like me.” Even just saying it out loud felt like a taboo. I could just imagine Danny’s disapproving face as I pondered corrupting our newfound friendship, and corrupting him at his core.

The devil on my shoulder continued. We’ve been swapping all this time. And he doesn’t notice. My dick stirred. He wouldn’t notice and you could train his body to fall in love with you.

No. No. I couldn’t do that to Danny. I eyed the near approaching date on the calendar- the date the experiment would end- and I gulped again. I pulled up a photo of him.

Darkness gripped at my chest, as I pondered my next step. And then I squeezed.

“Danny, I love you and I’m sorry.”

Zzzip

My heart, or rather Danny’s, began to beat faster and faster. I pulled up a fairly difficult puzzle before I swapped, so I knew I had some time with his flesh before he’d try to swap back.

I gingerly pulled down his shorts, staring at his bulge hungrily. Then I slowly teased out his dick, moaning at the feeling of flesh touching flesh. Being in his body, having this level of access to Danny. I was hard instantly.

It felt almost macabre, seeing his flesh move to my every whim, forced to feel my feelings. I wanted to etch myself into him as much as possible, and with every pump I moaned my original body’s name. It took all of the restraint in Danny’s body, which, apparently was a lot, to not burst. But one can only hold out so long, hearing one’s crush moan their name in delirious ecstasy. I sang my name in his resonant voice one more time, before flashing instantly to my body and back to his.

Zzzip Zzzip

I released his sticky white seed in what felt like the first cum of my life. I suppose, in a sense, it was. I hoped that sealed it. Conditioning Danny to me. The swaps were imperceptibly fast, and I took the lack of delay in emotions as a sign of success.

Zzzip Zzzip

I released a breath in Danny’s body I didn’t know I was holding, basking in the afterglow before immediately realizing what I had just done. 

Guilt came out of me drop by drop. As his tears began to leave their marks on his shirt, I slowly began to clean up. The pleasure of the situation still clung to me, as I mournfully switched back. Then came another gut-wrenching wave of sadness. Danny, I’m so sorry. 

I looked to the incomplete puzzle in front of me, laughing a little at his lack of progress to ease the sadness.

Then came another text from Danny. “Dude, that puzzle’s impossible”. 

=============

“Log book 300:

Food definitely tastes different in a different body.”

“Look, just try them man” Danny said with a smile, holding a fry in his hand. And the necklace in another. 

Only a few short days left before the experiment’s end. I made no mention of that night, nor the professor’s words to Danny. 

Danny had, in fact, been coming by more often. Prompting more hangouts, initiating more switches. I was elated every time he asked. I even caught a few longer glances from his body, marinating in pleasure at seeing this new side of Danny. However happy I had been, underlying it all was the guilt of my deed.

Danny again held the fry out expectantly. I laughed slightly. “Haha, fine”.

Zzzip

I took a bite from his body. Yep, it was definitely a fry. My own body looked up at me, smiling a Danny-flavored smile before grabbing the half-bitten fry. “Now let’s control for this variable. Same fry,” he said, wiggling it in the air.

Zzzip

I stared at the fry covered in a bit of his saliva. Heaven. I looked back at him and nodded. As we parted ways, I couldn’t help my smile from peeking through. 

He was right, it did taste better on my end.

=============

“So, we’re not getting paid”? I asked Danny, as we sat in the table. He had a few wine glasses in front. 

It had been a full year since the experiment first started. Despite the general weirdness from the other groups swapping, everyone had been relatively well adjusted. Except for Chad, or whatever he’d be called now. A swapped Kat couldn’t help but spill the beans. Apparently, the professor had no obligation to offer the guy extra credit. He specifically targeted the quarterback for his experiment. What’s worse, he’d apparently created a newer version of the necklace. One that could overwrite and transmit. Chad’s frat brothers mentioned he was offered another credit for participating in a second experiment for this new necklace. After that, no one had seen either person. The pair had mysteriously disappeared, leaving the school scrambling to cover up everything. All most of us knew was one day we suddenly had perfect grades retroactively added for the past year, along with a very scary letter prompting a signature. 

“The university isn’t going to do anything about this.” He said. I was still skeptical as I slowly eyed one of the wine bottles that once graced former Dr. Cohn’s shelf. “It’s the least they could do for all those, ethics violations”. He pulled the cork with a satisfying pop, a mischievous gleam in his eye as he handed me a glass. “Now c’mon, try this”. 

I suppose alcohol had a way of loosening me up. “So…. we’re not getting paid”? I asked again, sarcastically this time. It had been a year, so talking to Danny felt easy. I thought back to my log book, fully intending on burning the thing. Danny shook his head.

“Hard to put a price on crimes against humanity. Or, something like that” he laughed. “The university just said to dump everything and basically forget that experiment ever happened.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as well. I shrugged, knowing money or even perfect grades for a year held no candle to the experience of a lifetime I just had with Danny. I was afraid of the answer, but it had to be asked. “What should we do with these things?” I asked, looking at the necklace still gracing his beautiful neck. His eyebrows raised as he saw the same necklace gracing mine. 

“I mean, by now, you’re pretty used to it, right?” He asked with an almost pleading look in his eye. There was something bugging him. I watched as he fiddled with his feet. “Maybe…” His ears turned bright red. It was riveting finally seeing this side oh him. More than that, it was downright cute. “M-Maybe” he stammered again. Danny took a deep breath to calm himself, though his scarlet face told all. “Maybe we can keep. Um. Swapping. Sometimes, sometimes I like being you, and sometimes I kind of like when you’re me.” He looked at me and smiled weakly, trying to change the subject. “A-Anyway, you need a place to stay next year, r-right? It kind of feels like we’ve already been roommates these past 12 months, what’s another 12?” His sweet words did nothing the dampen the guilt I felt in my betrayal. In any other circumstance, I’d have died happy just hearing that confession from him. Instead I could only think back to the professors words. I did live, at least partially, in Danny throughout this past year. It felt like a betrayal of myself to not come clean.

“Danny, listen. I think I need to tell you first, in your body…” My breath hastened, and I felt my stomach churn. How do you tell a guy what you’ve done with his body- *in* his body? Danny’s face frowned in concern as my bubbling emotions seemed to knock him out of his quick spell of shyness.

He smiled a little. “Look man, whatever you’ve done in my body, I’ve probably done too.” His smile widened. “Your body is mine, my body is yours. Call it even”. More words that would have swept me off my feet, had I not been confessing. More torture ensued.

“I went to the professor about it a few months ago and never told you” I continued. I was practically holding back tears. “Our necklaces were bugged, I think”.

“The professor said…” I gulped. “It was possible that when we switch, our minds don’t come through all at once.” Now tears did begin to swell. “You know how it’s supposed to take a second for your emotions to catch up. Well, when we switch, I still feel the same emotions…”. I gulped. “Since day 1, I think I’ve overwritten your, um, preferences”. Danny’s poker face felt like a dagger in my heart. It’s a face I often made in his body when I was in deep thought, so I knew he had to have been processing to the same conclusion. I could practically see the gear turning in his head. Click.

Face still an enigma, Danny waited a moment and then asked a simple question. “When did you tell the professor?” Click. 

I sniffled as I laid it bare in front of him. “5 months ago. Danny, I’m sorry! I dunno, I just thought maybe… maybe if we kept switching, if our minds kept being in each other’s bodies. Maybe if a little piece of how I felt kept lagging behind, you might have-“ Now the gear was fully spinning and I saw the realization hit his face. I had no idea what he was going to do. Punch me? Maybe. Run away in disgust? Likely. Instead, Daniel had done something equally surprising. His hand rested on my shoulder in a reassuring fashion. Then that same hand motioned me forward.

My memory of the next moment felt like a million moments in one. It was something so outside my realm of possibilities, my brain simply couldn’t process. The whiplash hit my senses all at once. Sweet but a bit salty. A moment of quietness before the background sounds of the campus slowly drizzled back in. The scent of fresh laundry and damp earth. My eyes took even longer to adjust from black to red to an image slowly refocussing. Last was my brain, which had been stunned into silence. I sat back in shock, repeating the same phrase over and over in my head. Danny just kissed me.

He laughed, eyes twinkling and mouth pulled into a smile, beaming in the way that always made my heart swoon. “That theory’s bogus. Trust me. I haven’t felt any different”. He smiled again, sheepishly this time, before fishing something from his backpack’s large pocket. He looked at the item in front of him, hand slightly shaking in hesitation before making his decision. Slowly, he held up his own log book, flipped to the very first page:

“Log Book 1:

<3 ”

=============

[supercorpkid]

How You Get the Girl - part 2

Supergirl. Lena Luthor x Reader!

Word Count: 2995.

Part 1

Notes: should I do another part? Would anyone be interested in a part 3?

You make your way to a new Earth, with a quick search you find out that the DEO is still active. Lena works for them and Supergirl doesn’t, which makes way more sense than the other way around.

“Hey, there you are!” One of the agents greets you with a lab coat with your name on it. “Ms. Luthor is waiting for you in lab 3.”

“Oh, I’m not —“ you breathe deep. “Heh, you know what? Whatever. Which way?”

“Lab 3?” He repeats as if you’re supposed to know. Then points in a direction when he draws no reaction from you. “That way.”

“Thanks!” You put on the lab coat that clearly doesn’t belong to you, and follow the direction he pointed to. “Hey Lena!”

“Oh.” Lena says, not looking up from the experiment before her. “Look who is finally on time!”

“No one’s ever complained about my tardiness before.” You complain half to yourself, half to Lena.

“Not to your face.” Her response comes quickly and you roll your eyes to it. "Take your place, please." She looks at the chair and you make your way there.

"So, why do I have a lab coat with my name on it? I'm not a scientist."

"God, no. Thank God, no." Lena says and you roll your eyes at her one more time, unamused. "You're my guinea pig."

"Cute." You already don't think this will be your favorite Lena.

Lena throws one look back at you, then clicks something on her computer. She looks at the cameras and you follow her gaze to see they no longer have a red light on, so that probably means she shut them down. "Did either J'onn or Kara see you coming in?"

"No."

"Does Alex know where you are?"

"I don't think so, no."

"Great." Lena turns around, straddling your lap, and she holds you face with both hands before kissing you so hard, you're almost left with no air inside you. 

"Wait, wait." You try while she kisses down your neck, and her hands make way under your shirt. "I'm not your Y/N! I'm not –" Your brain refuses to work while her cold fingers slide on your bare skin. "I'm from a different universe!"

Lena takes her face from the crook of your neck and looks at you in disbelief. "Is this another excuse for us not to make out anymore?" She sounds uninterested. "Are you feeling bad for Alex again?"

"Why would I feel bad for Alex?" 

"Because she is your wife?" Comes in the form of a question. Like a duh.

"WHAT!" You push Lena from your lap and stand up in a hurry. "I'm married in this universe and you and I –"

You look disgusted, but Lena just stares at you like she is waiting for your tantrum to be over. "We're horrible people!"

"Ok. Ok. I see what's happening. Alex did something sweet and now you want to break things off and then in a couple of days you're gonna call me again." She sounds nonchalant about it, and you're almost throwing up while hearing it. 

"Oh no." You hold back the vomit on your mouth. "Hell no. I can't be stuck in this. I'm gonna get far away from you. You and Y/N from this Earth are both disgusting and messed up. I hope you know this." You take off the lab coat that doesn't belong to you and run so fast, you miss your counterpart walking in the DEO at the exact same time.

You land on a different Earth. It takes you a lot more investigation to find out where Lena is, and it's almost as if she is hiding. But you're a good reporter, you know Lena pretty well, so you manage to find her in a secret lab.

"Hey Lena." You have a smile on your face that soon fades when a gun is pointed to your head.

"You have ten seconds to tell me how you found me here, before I kill you." Lena's expression at you tells you she is not joking. She really means it.

"Shit. Wrong Earth. Wrong Earth." You fumble with your ring and thank God you get out of that place in less than ten seconds.

By the tenth trip it has gotten easier. Find Lena. Check if she doesn't hate you; if one of you is not married; if you two are actually gay; if the thought of you together doesn't make her gag. Explain who you are. Ask for advice. Get out of it empty handed. 

Everything becomes a blur, and your memories start to merge the different worlds together. The many Lenas you've met seem so different that none of them resemble your Lena anymore. In fact, the confusion in your mind grows so intense that you begin to forget what your Earth and your Lena truly look like. But you won't quit.

You arrive in yet another world. You've seen it all. Earths where Lena doesn't love you, ones that she is straight, others she is with Kara, and in some you and her are together. Though those weren't exactly helpful. If anything, they added to your confusion and desperation. Are you ever gonna get the girl?

In this reality, Lena is the head of CatCo, making her your boss—a less than ideal situation, to say the least. You drag your sorry ass one more time, to face yet another disappointment, you're sure.

"Y/N!" Lena smiles when you wander into her office. It's late, most employees have left already, but there's a handful of people still preparing to leave. "I thought you had called a day." She looks at her watch. "A couple of hours ago."

You wait, is there a kiss coming your way? Are you going to stop it before it happens this time or are you going to pretend you don't want it to happen after it does? The kiss doesn't come. This Lena is waiting on your response from the exact same place, which probably means you two aren't together in this universe.

You collapse onto her beige couch, letting out a huge sigh. You're so tired of this hopeless crusade. Perhaps you and Lena were never meant to end up together. Maybe the versions of you that actually got the girl are a fluke. Glitches in the system.

"Darling," She comes closer. "are you ok?"

"No. God, no. I'm not ok." You raise your head to see Lena's worried features, while she hovers over you. "Before I say anything, I need to warn you I'm not your Y/N. I'm from another Earth, and this is probably the 15th one that I visited so far. So I'm exhausted and far from ok, and I just want to cry."

Lena blinks. Green eyes framed with dark eyeliner, pink lips slightly open, so confused. Her straight, dark hair falls around her face, and you can't help but to steal a look at her incredibly inappropriate cleavage for show.

"Just call your Y/N if you don't believe me."

"No, I –" She sits next to you, calmly. "I believe you." Lena purses her lips, staring at your watery eyes. "So, how come you want to cry?"

You blink your tears away. "I love you." You breathe out. "Well, not you exactly. But you, from my Earth. But you don't love me back, and I've been everywhere trying to find one universe where it all worked out. Where you didn't love me, but I could – I somehow won you over." The tears are now streaming down your face without your control, and you don't even bother cleaning them. She stares at you with wide eyes. "But what if you and I are never supposed to work? What if Lena is never supposed to love me back?" Your breath shudders and you can't barely get your words out. "What if this is it?"

Lena licks her lips, unable to respond. You're unsure of the endgame here; you're merely using this Lena to finally unload your emotions.

"How do I just bury this feeling so deep down, when it wants nothing but to exist?"

The question falls heavy from your mouth. Loaded with more than heartbreak and it can be felt from the way your words sound. Lena feels it too. Surely, the whole world would be able to feel it. 

"You don't." She whispers back and you startle with the sound of her voice. You didn't think she would answer. "Y/N, I –" Lena breathes deep, gathering all of her courage. "I love you too. Well, you know what I mean. But on this Earth, you and Kara are dating."

"Yikes." Not yikes as in gross, but also, yes somewhat. Because you and Kara? That's weird and absurd and like dating a sister. But also yikes, cause you've landed on a universe where Lena loves you but she also didn't get the girl. "I'm sorry. I guess the last thing you needed was me crying on your couch about how much I love you."

She chuckles, looking up to hold back the tears. "God, this is so surreal." She turns to you like she's telling a secret. "I bought this company for you."

"Oh! You did that for Kara in my universe." You give her a watery laugh. "That's so very Lena of you." After a moment's thought, you lean in with a whispered revelation yourself. "I almost killed your brother to defend you. And trust me, I don't kill."

"Yeah, you – you did that for Kara here." 

You and Lena fall into a weird silence. You notice from the corner of your eye that a few tears started falling on her face and you make a move to clean it up. She holds her breath to it, and her eyes flutter closed when your thumb brush softly against her skin.

She is not your Lena, but God, do they look the same, sound the same, and even smell the same. She is everything your Lena is, plus one huge difference: she is in love with a Y/N.

"I have an idea." You whisper, not to startle her, then move your finger away.

She doesn't open her eyes to whisper back, "Please, don't say Parent Trap."

"Hey!" You defend yourself earning a heartly laugh from her end. "Parent Trap is always a solid idea."

Lena looks at you fondly, while trying to sound annoyed. "God, Y/N."

"No, that wasn't it." You actually defend yourself this time, and she sits up straighter, looking at you curiously. "I love you and you love me. Sounds like an easy fix."

"No." Her voice comes as if she is talking to a toddler. "I love you from this universe, and you love me from your universe. We're all different individuals."

"Not that different. You knew I could say the Parent Trap idea, you bought a company for someone you love and I almost killed for someone I love." She only blinks at you in utter disbelief. "Oh, come on. You're still Lena! You're absurdly smart, and beautiful. You call me darling, and laugh when I say something silly. And I am still me, I'm –" You can't find the words to describe yourself.

"You're a bright light everywhere you step in. You're the only one that makes me laugh so hard. You're the most charming person I've ever met, and you have terrible ideas and try to pass them off as good." You laugh when she says that. 

"What? I don't –"

"You've been to 15 different Earths just to find a way to make your Lena love you, instead of just talking to her about it."

"Yeah, whatever. Like you're so perfect being filthy rich and buying companies as a form of love." She chuckles again and you stare at her with renewed intent. "Come on, it's not that crazy. We can find out the differences between our counterparts, but I doubt there's anything you've done that would make me stop loving you."

"My scientist mind says this is the craziest thing someone has ever told me."

"But the stupid part that made you fall in love with me, says…"

Lena inhales deep, then lets it all out in one breath. "That I'd die for your kiss."

You've kissed many Lenas from different universes. Short and sweet kisses, big and passionate ones, and completely wrong ones as well. You can help that your heart beats almost out of your chest in anticipation for this one. This Lena, she's so much like the one you fell for, but there's an ineffable quality about her, something more. Without even a kiss, you sense that if she isn't the one for you as well, then no other Lena will ever be.

The office is bathed in a soft, dim light. The last employee left a few minutes ago, leaving you both in an oddly calm, private CatCo. You draw Lena's face close to you, feeling her hold her breath in sync with yours.

"What if this is it?" Lena asks and you realize she has different worries than yours. But you know, regardless of the uncertainty – whether this is going to be it, or not – the only way to have the answer is by kissing her.

The moment seems to stand still, as the question reveals to be the answer itself. Time stretched out so thin through the space between your lips. And you smile to yourself as the gap between you two doesn't feel insurmountable anymore. 

Lena closes the distance. It feels impossible to believe that you two haven't known each other all your lives, when the dance of your lips and tongues moves in perfect harmony. The kiss is explosive and urgent, as if it has been in the making for years. Breathless, desperate, and exploratory. It's everything, and it's only the start.

You part your lips, staring at her from so close the only thing you can look at is her glossy eyes. "I'll die." She whispers so close to your mouth you're sharing the same breath. "I'll die a little death if I can't have you again."

The floor seems to open under you, as your heart flies to your mouth beating so fast it's ringing loudly in your ears. And you cease to exist in many universes to just exist right here, in this moment.

This is it. This is love. The love you've been jumping around from one universe to another to find. The love you've been dying to have and you know it. You shared one kiss and you are sure of it.

Lena swallows a tear, a question, a whirlwind of thoughts going through her mind as she kisses you again. Then again. And each kiss becomes more passionate, more certain. It's so right it binds you two deeper and stronger at every lip and tongue and breath shared. It can't be undone. 

Lena has a million questions and you know that, can see it in her eyes, and God you have them too. How can you erase your histories? Is it as easy as this? As easy as sharing a kiss so right that defying the boundaries of many universes cease to matter? 

But you know, God, you know it's just the start. It's the start of a chain reaction that makes your heart feel alive and complete. It doesn't matter anymore if she is your Lena, because she is the Lena.

"How will this even work?" she whispers against your lips, but deep down, you both know—it will work, it must work. Nothing can stop it now.

"I don't know. God, I don't care." You answer between kisses, your breathless words expressing a certainty that defies logic. "I just know it will."

It's many, many kisses later that you both fall into a less desperate silence, tangled up in each other's arms as if this is the 100th time you've found yourselves in this position. You don't have to talk to know you're both thinking the same thing. How will this work?

"I have an idea." Your eyes widen and you untangle yourself from your place on her chest, so you can look into her eyes.

"Here we go again." She jokes lightly, but you know she trusts this idea will be just as good as the last one.

"I've been to one universe where I didn't exist. I don't know what happened to me there. If I was never born or if I'd died. But you existed and Kara was your best friend, and all of you would work in a Tower, and there was this guy Brainy, instead of Winn… Anyways." You stop your ranting when you realize you're getting a little side tracked. "I'm sure there's one Earth out there where both you and I don't exist. We could just –"

"Go to another world and start fresh. No two of you, no two of me. Just you and I making a name for ourselves." Lena completes and you smile at her, happy she understood exactly where you were going with this.

"I mean, you're stupidly smart and I have powers. Surely we can make a life for ourselves anywhere." You stop yourself when an idea crosses your mind. No, not anywhere. You smile. "And I know just where."

"You would do that?" Lena blinks, her question isn't coming from a place of confusion. She knows you would do exactly that and some more. The question is coming from a place of complete adoration.

"I'm dying to believe that you won't be the death of me." She kisses you one more time to be sure. And it's obvious. Every single time it's even more fated.

"What about everyone else on our Earths? Wouldn't we miss them?"

You show her your ring. "Have a portal –"

"Will travel." She completes it.

Yeah. This one. This one is your Lena.

[one-squash-one-end]

I wrote a giant Raven Cycle analysis

Hi! Over the last year or so I've been working on a sort of essay about various themes in the raven cycle series, and I finally finished it a few weeks ago.

It is titled: "Why I love The Raven Cycle - An excessive analysis of the themes of friendship, queerness and growing up".

And since tumblr loves its meta (and bc I love peer validation) I've decided to start uploading it bit by bit here, making this the masterpost (if I can figure out the logistics of the linking lmao, bear with me)

(beware of spoilers up to greywaren starting at like 3b!)

Introduction

What even is the Raven Cycle?

Trust me, the characters are queer as fuck and I can prove it a) Blue Sargent b) Gansey c) Adam Parrish d) Ronan Lynch e) Noah f) Henry Cheng g) Honorary mentions

The Gangsey is a polycule

Analyzing the reoccurring themes a) Friendship b) Being a teen/growing up c) (Found) Family d) Magic (as a metaphor) e) Further themes I appreciate

Drawing a conclusion

Click here to start with the introductory parts!

1. Introduction

So here’s the thing: I love fiction almost as much as I love my friends. There’s something deeply comforting about the escapism, even if the book actually makes me want to scream and throw it on the floor (only one book has been thrown so far, I promise!).  Fiction is a healthy thing to occupy my thoughts with: headcanons! Quotes being on loop in my brain! Just fandoms!

And for me, if I am hooked on a book (series), it does not even need a good plot where a lot of things happen. In fact, I would say that my enjoyment of a book is made up of 30% plot and about 70% characters and vibes. If the characters are bland, if they do not make me feel much emotion, it likely won’t be more than 4 stars (additional info: I am way too nice rating books!). I really, really need to love the characters, to be able to relate to some aspects of them, or it just won’t become an obsession.

Since I have already started explaining that a bit, let’s look at this question: What is important to make a book special to me? 1. I need to cry reading it. 2. I have to think about it often, even weeks to months after having read it. 3. Obviously, I need to love the characters. 4. I need to be in the fandom! This can be hard with some books, but the internet is a whimsical space allowing you to find at least a small number of people who are obsessed with a work of fiction to a similar extent as you are.

Now, why am I elaborating on this so much? It’s because The Raven Cycle did all that for me. It is my favorite comfort book series at the moment, for all those aspects mentioned, but of course I cannot just leave it at that. No, I wrote a whole-ass analysis on headcanons and some of its themes. You’re welcome.

2. What even is The Raven Cycle?

The Raven Cycle is all I adore and live for (next to my friends). So, naturally, it’s a book series, specifically a four book young adult contemporary fantasy series by American author Maggie Stiefvater. The books in question are: The Raven Boys (2012), The Dream Thieves (2013), Blue Lily, Lily Blue (2014) and The Raven King (2016), and yes I will admit that the publishing dates are a bit of a red flag. There is also the very relevant follow-up series called The Dreamer Trilogy (Call Down The Hawk, Mister Impossible, Greywaren), but it’s a lot less easy to get into that here as I do not know these entire books by heart, so I’ll stick to the original tetralogy here.

To stick to red flags, the books are set in the fictional Henrietta, a rural town in non-fictional Virginia, US, in the 2010s. However, that doesn’t really say *that* much about the plot, so let me summarize that really quick, because I can do better than the official synopsis! (Or let’s pretend I can.)

Blue Sargent comes from a family of psychics, yet she does not have any powers of her own. Even worse, she is a bit of an amplifier for the others, meaning she is always somehow but never directly involved in the business. As if that isn’t enough for an identity crisis, every psychic she has ever met has told her that her kiss would kill her true love. Yikes.

But because she is that amplifier, she comes to a church watch on St. Mark’s Eve, where psychics see the spirits of those to die within the following year. It’s important business, but to her it’s really just staring into the dark. Until she does actually see a spirit: That of Gansey. Of course this is not a coincidence. No, to add to this teen’s mount of problems, there are only two reasons why a non-seer would see someone’s spirit: They are their true love, or they killed them. Or, in Blue’s case, maybe both.

The aforementioned Gansey is Henrietta’s Golden Boy, the son of politicians (read: he’s fucking loaded). He does not run with the Republicans though, he runs with dead Welsh kings, meaning he has been searching for the probably dead, presumably sleeping Welsh king Glendower (*1350; †1416; yikes) for the past like seven years. Why the fuck would he do that? Well, legend says that he will grant a wish to whoever wakes him, and our favorite PTSD-ridden guy really wants that favor.

Aiding him are fellow Aglionby students Adam Parrish, Ronan Lynch and Noah Czerny, plus Henry Cheng, though only a lot later in the series, but I really did not want to leave out that menace (affectionately) here. The paths of Blue and the boys cross because of Gansey’s search for Glendower, plus the fact that Blue works at a popular pizza place, but that’s a lot less whimsical. And, well, there’s the implication that Gansey might also be her true love, but perhaps she just kills him because of his bad fashion sense, it would be justified. Anyway, in true Famous Five fashion (Ronan is the dog; I won’t elaborate, the girls that get it, get it) they are of course not the only ones searching for the king, so it’s not completely a wholesome friend bonding activity all the way through.

Be prepared for: friendship and growing up, lots of treasure hunting, family mysteries, magical forests, illegal and slightly distasteful activities (our favorite of course), but most of all, heavily queer-coded (or even canonically queer) characters. Be Gay, Do Crime.

[windvexer]

Hiya Chicken! I was wondering if you could expand upon what you meant in your most recent post (some people DO need physical items)? I think I understand what you're saying (some people are incapable of directing energy for spellwork on their own and need the assistance of tools, and that's okay?) but I'm not sure it's entirely clicking in my brain. Is it somewhat akin to "some people cannot effectively direct their energy without additional forces like correspondences to nail it down"? The idea is something I can get behind, I just want to make sure I'm not missing out on other nuance and completely misinterpreting. It isn't something I've really thought about before, so I want to make sure I'm like. Understanding fully and completely. Thank you for your time :)

Hi!!

We are in reference to this post.

Hey! I like where you’re coming from, but I think there can be more to it. You're really kind for inviting me to talk about my thoughts 😅

Uh... I'd also like to say that this has been on my mind for a really long time, so I don't think the following is comprehensive, but it's a good start.

I also want to reiterate that when most people say "you don't need stuff to practice witchcraft" they probably mean it in an encouraging and anti-consumerist way, which I don't disagree with; I just think it's more nuanced than that.

Accessibility: A part of witchcraft is integrating it into your life so that it’s possible to practice. If you’re a very ‘out of sight, out of mind’ individual, then it may literally be necessary to have physical tools, altars, and reminders around you, or else you’ll wake up 5 months later remembering you wanted to be practicing this entire time.

Also accessibility: You say that some people might need tools to help move energy, which is a factor (more on that later!) but it’s also a thing that some people can’t just sit down in an empty room and focus on visualization + willpower. Not all people can sit still and use meditative focus to direct their thoughts for an extended period of time without any external stimulation. That doesn’t mean they wouldn’t be good at energy work; it just means they can’t engage with that style of practice.

Still accessibility: This is more on the “it’s okay to buy mass produced” side of things, but an interest in witchcraft doesn’t automatically equal talent or interest in handcrafting skills. Making custom boutique tools takes time, money, energy, workshop space, and physical ability that not everyone has. It’s unfair to imply that even if you can buy a ready substitute online for $30, a beginner is a poser if they don’t take four months of free time to hone a personal hobby and make the tool themselves.

Sorcery: Not all schools of sorcery agree that you can advance down the path you want to take while never accumulating physical tools, icons, or ingredients. For example, my paradigm (which isn’t terribly unique) advises that in order to make changes in the physical world around you, then you need to use physical tools. No crystals to impregnate with energy? No herbs to sprinkle into the dinner? No candles? You can’t even direct energy into the threshold, windows, doorways? Then maybe you’re not going to be able to affect physical reality the way you want to.

(But, Chicken! You don’t need physical tools to put energy work into the front door. So you agree that the physical object is still a necessity? Or, no? Is it possible to create a purely astral threshold? Because...)

Energy: Just because you can perform an operation without using any physical tools doesn’t mean you have the personal energy to pull it off, especially not on a regular basis. For example, perhaps someone can create an energy construct of a cauldron sufficient to perform ritual gestation. They cast a spell purely out of energy work, and feed it with energy. That’s all good! But I can’t do that, because it would exhaust me. It’s not that I’m unable to direct energy; I can do energy work. It’s not a lack of talent or education. It’s just that I am literally, physically, too much of a low-energy witch to be able to do a lot of work without tools. If I had to substitute everything with energy work, I couldn’t do a lot of my witchcraft; I am too tired.

Spirit Work: In my paradigm (which is not so rare), a very important way to develop relationships with gods and spirits is to invite them into your physical space by devoting trinkets, houses, shrines, or spaces to them. By giving them a slice of your life, you invite them into your life! I don’t have to do that with a spirit. I can use my energy to bridge the gap with them every time. I can provide energy offerings to them every time they come through to me. I mean – hypothetically. I hypothetically could, but I actually can’t, because even though I can do energy work, I do not have enough personal energy to call my gods and spirits through into my IRL space using my own power multiple times a day. I especially do not have this energy when I need them most – a.k.a, when I am fatigued, distressed, and in need of help.

At a certain point, if Oak tree tells you to go find wood for a staff or wand, you’re going to have to do that. Maybe it’s going to take months or years of spellwork, careful searching, and cunning, but if you want your relationship to progress, it can’t be 100% on your terms. My point in all of this is just to say, I do agree with the sentiment that (as @lazywitchling says) you can't buy skill. And a lot of confusing resources can seem to imply that a beginner has to load up on unnecessary tools just to get started, which is untrue.

But I think sometimes that this push against anti-consumerism and a desire to protect beginners has warped into a sentiment that all witches are supposed to be able to validly work with 100% mental magic all the time for all purposes, which I don't believe is true.

Some people do need stuff! For lots of different reasons! And I think that should be normal and okay.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

hi mira i’m going to rq for jjk (gojo specifically) :) kinda inspired by a fic idea of mine so if i see you post it maybe it’ll give me inspo to actually write too LOL — this is also a little long sorry, you can shorten as you wish 😓 maybe it’ll get the brain juices going idk

Y/N was really close to geto (i was thinking siblings but do whatever) and when he turned curse user and left, it made Y/N rethink why she was a sorcerer herself. she believed in geto’s ideals, but seeing his mindset 180 made her question if the same thing would happen to her since she was always weaker-minded than him. so she quit dropped out of the school and gojo never saw her since

skipping to the present, Y/N became a sorcerer again after having a conversation with geto some time before he died. with yuji being sukuna’s vessel, she goes to the school herself and sees gojo (their last convo was actually an argument leaving everything [him] behind). gojo’s just really stubborn, but he’s there when Y/N really needs him. from there they only keep encountering each other until they make up, their feelings are all out on the table, etc. etc.

── CHIAROSCURO

Synopsis: You don’t really know who you are without Suguru Geto. Satoru Gojo doesn’t know who he is without either of you.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Gojo x Reader, Geto & Reader have something less than romantic but more than platonic going on

Chapter Word Count: 6.7k

Content Warnings: angst, mentions of death, flawed y/n character, major time skips, most plot events happen off screen, characters are probably ooc tbh i haven’t written for jjk in months

A/N: finally finished the first of the requests I’ve received so far!! it ended up being way more geto-centric than i had planned for it to be though i’m so sorry angel 😭 and it was also getting way too long so i decided to end it by just hinting the development of the rest of the story you mentioned LMAO i hope that’s okay 😫

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

Most people grew up with one shadow, but according to your mother, you had lived your entire life with two. The first was the same as the one everyone had, that darkening of the ground in the shape of your figure. The second was the boy who lived next door — or, at least, that was what she told you.

His name was Suguru Geto, and despite his dark features and darker clothing, he had a perpetually sunny demeanor, always quick to offer you a gentle smile whenever you glanced his way. He was polite even when it wasn’t required of him, and though your mother teased you for it, you knew she was secretly grateful for his presence in your life.

The greatest thing Suguru had ever done for you, though, was not teach you manners. It was that he gave you someone to follow. Perhaps it was true that he was your shadow, but it was his in which you cowered when you were frightened, when the brightness of the world was too harsh for your eyes, which, when it came to cruelties and horrors, were as sensitive and new as a child’s.

Suguru was always happy to take on that role. He would stand in front of you, his shoulder blades pinching together as he puffed out his chest and rebuked whichever neighborhood child had dared to tease you. They all ran from him when he was like that, when his brow grew heavy over his eyes and the corners of his mouth twisted into a scowl.

Not you, though. You stayed behind his back, blinking owlishly at the way the others scurried, laughing along when Suguru likened them to mice with a click of his tongue.

Suguru didn’t like those who hurt the ones weaker than them, so you didn’t, either. Suguru thought that the role of the strong was to protect the frail, so you did, too. Whatever Suguru believed, you did as well, because what else was there for you? It was easier for you to hold onto his hand and press against his back, to allow him to tell you where to place your feet, so that there was never even a chance of you falling.

That was why it wasn’t a surprise that, upon Suguru being scouted as a sorcerer, you were extended the same invitation. It was a natural consequence — where he went, you followed, and so when he packed his things and went to Tokyo, it was both of your bags that he was carrying, while you peered around the train station and wondered what kind of place you were going to end up in.

Your new classmate was the one that picked the two of you up. He was tall — taller than even Suguru, though the majority of his body consisted of his legs — and had an unearthly appearance, with pale hair carefully mussed into a seemingly thoughtless style and black glasses which slid down the bridge of his nose to reveal eyes like diamonds.

He was the most brilliant thing you had ever seen. Lowering your eyes, you stepped back into Suguru’s shadow, earning you a scoff from your classmate and a worried exhale from your friend.

“Blech,” he said. “You’re supposed to be my classmate, really? How’re you going to keep up, huh? I’m the strongest sorcerer in the world, you know.”

“I think we’ll manage just fine,” Suguru said pleasantly, though there was an edge to his voice, his teeth like knives when he smiled and offered his hand. “I’m Suguru Geto.”

“Satoru Gojo,” your classmate said, shaking Suguru’s hand firmly. “Looking forward to working with you.”

“Likewise,” Suguru said. “And this is Y/N L/N.”

“Hi,” you said, swallowing even as you said it, pursing your lips and glancing around, wishing for some kind of escape. Gojo hummed and then poked you on the forehead.

“Aw,” he said when you did not visibly react beyond furrowing your brow. “I thought you might fall over or something.”

“I see,” you said. “Um. Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Come on. Let’s go before our teacher gives us all detention for playing hooky.”

Unlike Suguru, Gojo didn’t allow you to follow him around. He made fun of you when you were scared and poked you on the forehead if you cringed away from his taunts. The latter occurred so frequently that you were surprised there was not a permanent indent in your skin.

“One day I’ll get you, pretty Y/N,” he’d always promise you. “Seriously! I mean, you barely have a backbone in the first place, so it’s really a wonder you’re standing at all.”

At first, Suguru used to demand he stop, but as the months went by, his protests grew weaker and weaker. You supposed that it must’ve been nice for him, to stand beside someone for once instead of constantly throwing himself in front of them. You could not blame him, but you found that you missed him more with every passing day.

But what was there to be done about it? After all, you were nothing compared to the two special grade sorcerers. You did what you could and found it was, for the most part, sufficient, but sufficient would never let you exist beside either of them in any way that mattered. So you fell behind, and this time, it was not a conscious choice but an unavoidable circumstance. This time, when you hung back, Suguru continued forward without you.

Empty-minded and weak-hearted. That was what your teacher called you. He sent you on the simplest missions he could, and still you struggled. Sometimes, this meant you would sit alone in the classroom until it was long past dusk, listening to your teacher ramble and shout.

“You are not weak!” he would say, his hands clenched into fists by his side. “By all rights, your technique is perfectly serviceable. You are not weak, Y/N L/N!”

“Yes, sir,” you would respond meekly.

“At least, you should not be,” he’d say. “Yet somehow, inexplicably, you are. Even a Grade 2 curse nearly got the better of you. Your classmates are exorcising special grades on their own! Aren’t you disgusted with yourself?”

Suguru, and sometimes Gojo, would wait outside of the door for you, lingering until they heard the shuffle of your feet, the soft sniffles which announced your arrival. Then Suguru would wrap a casual arm around your shoulders and tell you that it was fine if you were weak, just as long as he was around to protect you, and Gojo would do that infuriating thing where he’d poke you in the forehead and pretend like it was a miracle you hadn’t toppled over yet.

Otherwise, you did not see your classmates. Shoko Ieri was far too busy learning to do things you could never hope to accomplish in your lifetime, and Suguru and Gojo were called on to complete assignments with such unhealthy regularity that their education actually suffered for it. 

You never knew what they did on their missions. You never cared to ask, either. The details would only make you queasy, and in this new world where you were not permitted to shudder and seek out the safety that Suguru so willingly provided you with, you tried to avoid things like that. Harsh things, brilliant things, cruel things — all of them you ran from at an equal pace. Without Suguru there to defend you, you turned into one of those children he had so-despised in your youth. Always running. Always hiding. Always shying away from anything resembling a challenge.

It was after one such mission that Suguru returned differently. You knew he had changed because he crawled into your bed that night instead of his own, drew the blanket up around his shoulders and pressed his weeping eyes against your collarbones.

“It’s no good,” he said after the third time you had asked him what was the matter, your hands nervously skimming over his shoulders, smoothing over his rough hair. “Everything’s been ruined, Y/N. Or maybe it was always like this. Maybe you’re the only one who’s ever understood the world to begin with.”

The next morning, when his feet touched the ground and he slid out of your bed, you were hit with the strangest feeling that you would never see him again. Not in the way you were used to seeing him, anyways. Sitting up in your bed, leaning against your pillows, you watched as he left, though when he went to close the door behind him, you reached out your hand.

“Wait,” you said. He paused, raising his eyebrows.

“Is everything okay?” he said, his knuckles growing white from gripping the handle.

“I want to look at you,” you said. You knew without knowing that the instant the door shut between the two of you, you would lose him forever. Your best friend. Your shadow. You wished that there was a way you could reach out and save him, but the thought of you saving someone was outlandish. Impossible. Laughable. 

“Yeah?” he said. There were heavy bags under his eyes, and it did not reach his irises, but nevertheless, he somehow managed to muster up a smile. It was not gentle as much as it was exhausted, but still, he smiled as best he could at you. “Okay.”

You hugged one of the pillows to your chest. “I miss you a lot.”

“I haven’t gone anywhere,” he said.

“Not yet,” you said. “I think you will someday, though. You’ll go somewhere far away, and I won’t be able to follow you there. You won’t even want me to.”

“What kind of place is that?” he said. “I’ll always want you to follow me around, Y/N. As long as I’m there, not a corner on this planet could be a place I don’t want you to follow me to.”

The door creaked shut. You stared at the blank expanse and thought to yourself that he had always been very good at lying.

From that day forward, there were two opposite phenomena which occurred simultaneously. On the one hand, that blinding radiance of Gojo’s was magnified by the minute, and on the other, Suguru withdrew further and further into a grey sort of monotony that, try as you might, you could not pull him from.

“Gojo,” you said one day, tugging on his sleeve and flinching when he turned to look at you. As per usual, he pressed his finger into your forehead.

“Yikes,” he said. “Seems like you’re still lacking in the spinal department, dear Y/N. But just so you know, I’ve cheated off of your math homework enough times that you really shouldn’t be scared of me.”

“Please help Suguru,” you said.

“Eh?” Gojo said. “What do you mean? Help him with what, his math homework? I’ll just give him yours to copy as well, so why don’t you cut the middle man and show it to him yourself?”

“No, not with — just, he’s going away, and I don’t want him to, but he doesn’t — you’re the only one,” you stammered. 

It was even more difficult to speak with Gojo now than it had been when you had first come to school. That was because it was only recently that you were realizing that that way he made you feel, that shyness, that apprehension, was not because of his gleaming, sharp countenance, but rather something else, something soft in your heart that thudded to life whenever he smirked at you.

“You want me to take his mission for him?” Gojo said, his nose wrinkling. “What, so the two of you can go on a date or something? Forget about it.”

“What?” you said. “No, what — a date — that’s not what I meant!”

It was too late. Gojo was gone, and with him, your last chance at helping Suguru vanished, too. In fact, Gojo avoided you until you went home from the summer break, making a face whenever you glanced his way, and by the time you came back to start the next year, it was too late for anyone to do much of anything.

“Y/N L/N,” Masamichi Yaga said, entering the library where you were writing a paper for your literature class. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, his cheeks a dark, flushed color, his teeth gritted together so hard that a muscle in his jaw twitched periodically. “Do you have a moment? It’s urgent.”

“I was just working on the essay that we were assigned, but it can wait,” you said agreeably, all too eager to give yourself a break from the work. Pushing aside your paper and pen, you stood up, massaging your wrist. “What is it, sir?”

“It’s, er…” His shoulders slumped. “I’m really sorry, Miss L/N.”

You tried to run through the list of things that he could be sorry for, but only one thing came to mind. You froze, your eyes widening. He had been on a mission, hadn’t he? 

“Suguru,” you breathed. “Is it — it’s not about Suguru, is it?”

“In a sense, it is,” Yaga said.

“Is he alright?” you said. “He has to be alright.”

“We believe his condition is fine, considering what he’s done,” Yaga said.

“‘What he’s done?’ Why are you being so vague? What’s going on, sir? Please say it plainly,” you said.

“It’s your parents, Miss L/N,” he said, spitting it out all at once like the phrase itself was poisoned. “They’re dead.”

Your stomach dropped. You had imagined so many things. In your nightmares, you saw your classmates dying, your teachers, even yourself. But never your parents. Your parents, who were so far removed from this awful world. Your parents, who only a month ago had sent you back to school with a pair of new shoes they had saved up to buy. You parents, who had never harmed anyone in their lives. What had they done that was so terrible it warranted such a sudden death? What were they being punished for?

“How — how did it happen?” you said. “Was it a curse?”

“Miss L/N…” Yaga said, his entire self deflating. “I’m really sorry.”

“What? Stop apologizing,” you said, tears gathering in your eyes. “Just tell me. Stop saying sorry and tell me!”

“It was most likely Suguru Geto,” he said, handing you a piece of paper. Your vision swam, and you could barely make out the words. All residents of the village were killed. Jujutsu High investigated. Based on residuals…all 112…the work of Geto’s curse manipulation. Sentenced to death. Sentenced to death. Sentenced to death.

“No,” you said, your voice cracking. “No, why would he do that? My parents loved him, and he loved them, too! We grew up together, so why would he do that?”

“Based on the evidence, he most likely killed his own parents, too,” Yaga said. Your hands wound themselves in your hair as you tugged.

“That’s a lie,” you said. “Suguru isn’t like that. Suguru is good! Suguru looks out for those weaker than himself! He protects people, Yaga. It must be a mistake. It has to be a mistake!”

“Miss L/N—” he began, but you were already running, sprinting as fast as you could. There was no way. There was no way. There was no way. 

Your house and the one beside it — Suguru’s house, a voice in the back of your mind nagged you, that’s Suguru’s house — were blocked off with yellow caution tape. Dozens of police officers were milling about the scene, barking into handheld radios, conversing tensely. One of them noticed you and extended an arm to stop your approach.

“Stay back, ma’am. This is an active crime scene. No outsiders allowed until the investigation has been concluded,” the officer said.

“That’s my house,” you whispered. “Officer, that’s my house. Why are there so many people here? It’s not true, is it?”

The officer didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. The pitying frown on his face told you everything you needed to hear. It was true. It was true. Your parents, your parents were dead, and that meant —

What had it been like for them? Had your mother welcomed him? When she opened the door for him, had her eyes crinkled at the corners in greeting? Had she offered him tea, as she usually did, because she was so fond of him and he was so fond of the drink when made by her hand? And what of your father? Had he reached over to clap Suguru on the back, or had he tried to grab him in an affectionate headlock so that he could mess up his hair with all the zeal of a man half his age?

You threw up. Some of the vomit splattered onto the officer’s shoes, causing him to fold his lips into a thin, disapproving line. Taking a step back, he reached over to pat you on the back as you heaved and hacked, trying to expel the knowledge from your mind and finding that you were entirely unable to.

You walked back to the train station in a trance, your eyes reddened and glazed over, your mouth sour from the taste of the stale crackers the officer had handed you, your hands shoved in your pockets as you tried to remember to breathe through your nose. The officer had offered to escort you to the station, but you had refused. You needed the time to think, and anyways, what did it matter? No ordinary person could hurt you, and no sorcerer would.

“I didn’t think you’d come back alone,” a soft voice said from behind you. You turned around, your insides roiling at the very sound, your ears ringing as you took in Suguru’s casual posture. His hands, too, were in his pockets, and the streetlights cast misshapen, dancing shadows over his face, the effect worsened by the odd tilt of his head.

He was refusing to look at you. That was why he was standing like that. He couldn’t bear to look you in the eyes, and that was the only confirmation you needed. 

“So what?” you said. “I did. Are you going to kill me next?”

“What?” he said. Briefly, he glanced up at you in alarm, and then, like he had remembered he didn’t deserve to feel betrayed by that kind of question, he slouched back down into the same apathy of earlier. “No.”

“Just do it,” you said. “Just do it, you fucking asshole! Why would — you — you killed my parents! You killed my parents, and now you’re just talking to me as if nothing happened? Why? Why would you…?”

His expression did not budge again. “They were filthy monkeys who deserved it.”

“Huh?” you said. The statement was so bizarre that, for a moment, your anger was forgotten. “What the fuck?”

“This world doesn’t need more non-sorcerers running around,” he said. “Every single curse you’ve ever fought, it’s their fault. Those idiots who don’t know how to control the meager amounts of cursed energy they have, they’re the ones who cause curses to manifest. You should be thanking me, Y/N. This’ll make your life that much easier.”

“Do you really think that's the case?” you said.

“Yes,” he said. “With my entire heart, I think that it is.”

You had always, always followed Suguru. When he said to protect the weak, you did so. When he said to take care of others, you did that, too. Whatever he told you to believe, you believed. But how could you do that this time? How could you believe in the person who had murdered your parents?

“You killed my parents because of your stupid theory,” you said numbly. “You killed my parents. Suguru, you killed my parents.”

You didn’t care about the one hundred and twelve villagers. That was the most shameful thing: if it had just been that, then you might still have followed him. He could’ve convinced you — no. You could’ve convinced yourself that it was fine, that he really was looking out for you in that peculiar manner of his. It wouldn’t have been impossible. Even now, your resolve was so weak, and it was only the thought of your parents that allowed you to cling to it at all.

“They asked about you,” he said dully. “I let them. My own parents, I didn’t give them a chance to say anything, but yours…I let them ask. I guess you could consider it my last favor to you.”

The ringing grew louder. You pushed your palms against your ears in an effort to drown it out, but you couldn’t. If anything, it just grew louder and louder, more and more insistent. You couldn’t shake it off. You couldn’t make it go away, just like you couldn’t make Suguru’s words go away.

“It was the only thing they worried about. In their last moments, it wasn’t their own lives they begged for…it was yours,” he said, his gaze far away, his irises unreadable as he recalled that moment. “How strange is that?”

“Shut up,” you said.

“I told them you were okay,” he said.

“Shut up,” you repeated, though it was unsteady and unconvincing. “Shut up, shut up.”

“They were pretty happy about that,” he said, in a tone filled with dreamy recollection. “They didn’t fight much after I promised you’d be okay. What simple creatures they must have been, that even while dying they could only think to rejoice!”

You screamed. It was wordless and brittle, a symptom of your lungs’ collapse as you broke into sobs, fumbling in your purse for your phone. Suguru watched as you unsteadily punched in a number you had never bothered to save, not trying to stop you, maybe not seeing the point.

“Gojo,” you said when he picked up, before he could even say anything. “Gojo, please just — can you come get me? Please come get me.”

“Okay,” he said, to your surprise. He didn’t argue or call it a waste of time or point out that you were still bawling as you spoke. “Where are you? I can be there pretty soon if I steal one of the managers’ cars, I think.”

“By my house,” you said. Suguru did not move, showing you his hands, as if he was giving you permission to do what you wanted. It was your choice. If you just told Gojo that he was with you, then you had no doubt he’d be apprehended within minutes.

“I see,” he said. “I’ll be there as quickly as possible.”

You were the one who hung up, not him. You were the one who made the decision. You were the one who looked at Suguru and then turned your back to him so that, for once, he was the one behind you.

“I can’t reconcile it,” you said, using the ends of your sleeves to blot at your tears as you hiccuped. “I can’t understand it. Even after everything, I still want to follow you. I still want you to be my shadow. I still want to be yours.”

Don’t turn. Don’t turn. Don’t turn. You couldn’t turn around. If you turned around, then that meant your old teacher was right. Empty-minded. Weak-hearted. You could not turn around.

A dry breeze rustled through the leaves on the ground, sounding like footsteps against pavement. Don’t turn.

You turned. You should’ve known better than to expect anything different from yourself. You had never been someone who could stand in the front for very long. You would always turn. You would always run and cower and hide.

Anything you might’ve said died on your tongue as you saw he was already gone. You were alone. You had let him go. You had allowed that mass murderer, that criminal, to walk away from you. What kind of a sorcerer were you? Empty-minded. Weak-hearted. That sort, then. The horrible sort.

When the headlights of the car Gojo had borrowed swung around the corner, you had long since curled up on the grass, your cheek to the mud as you tried to grasp what you had done. 

“Hey,” Gojo said. “Y/N?”

He must’ve gotten out of the car at some point, because suddenly, he was crouching before you, pulling you to your feet, his limbs awkward and gangly as he cocked his head, still wearing those ridiculous sunglasses despite the darkness.

“I’m a piece of shit,” you said, and then you were clutching the collar of his uniform jacket. “Why am I like this?”

“What do you mean?” he said.

“He killed my parents,” you said. “He killed my parents, and I let him walk away.”

“Who?” Gojo said, but it was a rhetorical question. He knew who. You looked up at him miserably, and he shook his head slightly, like he couldn’t quite comprehend what you were saying. “You let who walk away?”

“I don’t think he was planning on seeing me,” you said, letting go of his shirt and pleading with him to understand. “We weren’t supposed to meet.”

“You saw Suguru,” Gojo accused, and now it was his turn to take you by the shoulders, his fingers digging into the muscle of your biceps, his eyes wild. “You saw him, and you didn’t tell me.”

Your lower lip trembled. “He killed my parents, Gojo.”

“That’s not true,” he said.

“It is,” you said. “It is, he told me it is, and I couldn’t even do anything when he said so.”

“Why?” Gojo hissed. “You only had to tell me! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just didn’t!” you said, and then you were crying again. “I couldn’t. Oh, they’re dead, and he killed them, he killed them, and they only asked about me when he did. Why am I the one who gets to live?”

His hands traveled from your arms to the nape of your neck, the heels of his palms pressing into your jaw as he tried to force you to look at him. But you couldn’t, of course you couldn’t, you hadn’t been able to before and you definitely couldn’t now.

“You know Suguru better than anyone. Don’t you think there’s something else at play?” Gojo said. He wasn’t asking for you. He was asking for himself. He wanted you to reassure him, tell him that it was alright, that his best friend wasn’t the monster you both knew he was. How was it fair? How could you be expected to reassure him?

You shoved him off of you. “No.”

“Then why’d you let him go?” Gojo said. “You must’ve thought that there was a reason, or else you would’ve told me. It’s the only explanation!”

“No, it’s not! The only explanation is that I’m shitty and weak and stupid, and I can’t help but rely on him. No matter what I do, I’ll rely on him! People like you don’t understand what it feels like. You can stand on your own, but I’m not like that!” you said, and then you were grabbing his hand — he always did that, you noticed, always turned his Infinity off for you even now that it was an automatic, constant process — unfurling his fingers and jabbing his index finger at your forehead. “Do you get it? You were right. I don’t have a spine. I don’t have one at all!”

“Pull yourself together, Y/N,” Gojo said. “He’s still out there. We just have to reach him before the others do, and then we can talk to him. If it’s the both of us, then he’ll listen. He’ll explain everything!”

“He already did,” you said. “You just don’t accept it, but that’s different than him not explaining at all.”

“So what, then? You’re just going to go back to the school and live your life as normal?” he said, scowling at you. “How could you even think of doing that? In what world does that make sense? You can’t go back and pretend like nothing happened!”

“It’s true. I can’t,” you said, because it was the fact you had been avoiding since the day you first set foot in the school, which you had always known in the back of your mind despite how you denied it. “I can’t go back at all. I can’t be a sorcerer.”

It was a rare thing to see Satoru Gojo speechless. If it were a lesser occasion, you might have laughed at the way his lips parted and his eyebrows knitted together in such a foreign way.

“Why not?” he said. 

“I’m afraid I’ll follow him,” you said. “No, I know I will. If I stay, then I will definitely follow him.”

“You won’t,” Gojo said. “Follow me instead. Follow me if you have to, but you can’t leave. Not you, too.”

Another rarity: Satoru Gojo was afraid. Not of your absence, but of the changes it would bring. With Haibara gone, Suguru vanished, and then you…what would even become of the school? When so many pieces were taken away from it, could it even be considered the same place?

“I can’t end up like that,” you said. “I can’t even risk it. I became a sorcerer because of him; I’ll leave because of him, too. Anyways, you hate when I follow you. You prefer people who can stand on their own two feet. I know that about you now.”

“If you run away, I won’t forgive you for a long time,” he warned me. 

“Then don’t,” you said, stepping away, though still facing him. “What good is your forgiveness, anyways? It won’t bring my parents back. It won’t bring Suguru back. I don’t even want you to forgive me, Gojo. I want you to hate me until you die.”

It was the last time you saw him for so long that his memory blurred away at the edges. The way he said your name, the way his hair shone in the sun, the slope of his nose and curve of his neck…once, these were things you might’ve been able to list with a great degree of accuracy. Not anymore, though. Now, if you thought of him at all, it was only that final image of him, framed by the headlights of that still-running car. It was not your name he had called out as you walked away from him, but something bitterer, a promise said with such sincerity it was all but a Binding Vow.

“Ten years,” he had said. “That’s how long I’ll hate you for. Not my entire life. Not until I die. Just for the next ten years.”

Life as an ordinary person was easy. Life without Suguru was harder. But you learned. You learned, through the years, how to stand on your own two feet. You learned how to live with only one shadow instead of two. You learned how to let your eyes adjust to light, gradually instead of all at once, so that it was an easy progression and free of pain. 

There were times when you thought you had seen one or the other of the two who you had run from. There, across the street, was it Suguru reading the newspaper? Or in the bakery you walked past on your way to work, was it Gojo who was admiring the displays? They always vanished before you could grow close enough to ascertain their identities, though, remaining ever out of your grasp, existing as nothing more than phantoms in your periphery, refusing to let you forget the past entirely.

The first time you called Gojo was a year after you left the school. You weren’t expecting him to pick up, and when the automated message prompted you to leave a voicemail, you almost hung up in resignation. Something stopped you, though, and despite feeling entirely ridiculous, you cleared your throat.

“Ah, it’s Y/N. But I guess you probably knew that, considering you didn’t pick up. Well, I don’t have anything much to say, but I just wanted to call and make sure you were doing alright. I’m okay. The anniversary of my parents’ deaths is coming up, so I was planning on visiting their graves. I got a new job. Somewhere that I never would’ve expected to work when I was younger. It’s nice. I like my coworkers. They’re nothing compared to you, of course, but they’re fine enough. Anyways. Um. I guess that’s it. I don’t think you’ll call me back, but I just wanted to let you know I’m doing okay.”

It was a routine. Every year, on that day, you’d call him and leave him a voice message. He never once answered — you doubted he listened to the voicemails at all, either — but it soothed you to leave them, to leave one last connection to the world that had taken up so much of your life, and for so long.

More often than not, that time felt like a dream. If it weren’t for the thorned mourner’s bouquets which left pricks in your fingers or the ten calls you had made to Satoru Gojo, you wouldn’t have believed any of it had happened at all. Sorcery, curses, shadows and killers, best friends who betrayed you and boys you ran from, these were all things better suited to storybooks than real life. 

Your mother’s favorite flowers had been roses, and you always made sure to bring some with you when you visited your parents’ graves. Roses for her and white chrysanthemums for your father, who had never had a preference for any particular flowers but was so sentimental that he would weep at any blooms being set by his headstone.

The roses were the ones that made the pads of your fingertips bleed, leaving bright red drops the same shade as their petals on the tissues you brought with you. You’d set the bouquet down and wrap your fingers with the tissues, watching as blood seeped through the thin paper, and then, without fail, you’d cry.

“It’s been so long without you,” you said, when enough time had passed that you could not be considered anything but an adult despite feeling like little more than a child. “It’s been so long, and I still don’t know what to do. Mother, father, I am grown now, yet constantly I wish I could ask you for advice. What was that song you’d always hum when I was tired, father? How did you make that tea of yours, mother? When did you know you loved one another? And a million other, sillier things. If I could think of nothing more pressing, I’d ask you about the weather, the time, and your plans for the weekend. I’d bid you a good morning and a good night. I’d complain about the rain and my job. Just as long as it meant I could talk to you again.”

You could not help it. You wept, bloody tissues fluttering to the ground as you ground your fists into your eyes, trying to stem the flow of your tears. Your breath came in quick, short gasps, and you rocked back and forth from your heels to your toes in an attempt to lull yourself into a state of calm. Back and forth. Back and forth. It was the only thing you could do, but it was not enough.

Someone’s hand settled upon your shoulder, and it had been so long since you had felt even a semblance of physical affection that you did not immediately bat them away. Instead, your own hands fell to your sides, your head hanging as you watched the newcomer set a bouquet beside the one you had brought. Orchids and lilies. Lovely, pale things that contrasted sharply with the red of the roses next to them.

“You said in your voicemail that you’d be here at this time. I hope it’s okay that I came.”

It was Satoru Gojo. He no longer wore the sunglasses you remembered him to; instead, a black blindfold was wrapped around his eyes and forehead, causing his pale hair to stick up like he had been shocked. He did not quite smile when he noticed that you were looking at him, but something resembling that expression crossed his face.

“Gojo,” you said. “Why are you—?”

“It’s been long enough,” he said. “You’re a really hard person to hate, Y/N L/N. I did my best, but it was difficult. I hope that you know that.”

“So you’ve come to, what, tell me you forgive me?” you said. “Thanks, but I don’t need it. It’s as I said: your forgiveness means nothing.”

“Nah,” he said, and then he was grabbing your hand and squeezing it tightly. “I’ve come to bring you back to sorcery with me.”

“What?” you said. “No. I quit.”

“You didn’t quit, you ran,” he reminded you.

“That’s the same thing,” you said. He grinned. It was the kind of grin that would’ve blinded you when you were younger, but you found that it was not so brilliant anymore. You found you liked it even more than you once had.

“Not in my books,” he said.

“Gojo, I’m not strong enough. I can lead a normal life without you and Suguru and the others, but if you throw me back into sorcery, I know I’ll cave,” you said. “I’ll turn back into that cowardly little girl I once was. I’ll seek out that shadow which I’ve spent so long learning to exist without.”

He sighed, and then he poked you in the forehead. “Not the case. See, you didn’t even waver this time! I think you finally did it, Y/N. You grew a spine.”

“Why do you want me to come back?” you said. “I’m not strong like you. I won’t give you anything you don’t already have.”

“It’s selfish,” he said. “I don’t want to tell you because it’s selfish, and you’ll laugh at me.”

“If you don’t tell me, then I won’t even consider it,” you said. Though his eyes were covered by the blindfold, you could sense him rolling them based solely on the way he pouted.

“I’ve spent the last ten years hating you for leaving us — for leaving me behind,” he said. “Everyone else was gone. I needed someone, but you left too, and then I really was alone. I want to drag you back into hell because I can’t face it by myself anymore.”

There were things left unsaid in that. Why you, for one? He could have anyone in the world, so why, after ten years, had he come to find you specifically? Why was it now that he could no longer bear the hell that was sorcery alone? But Gojo was not the sort who ever revealed his true self if he could help it, so you supposed those things would have to go unsaid for a little longer.

“Okay,” you said.

“Okay?” he said.

“Okay,” you said. “I’ll come back, but I have a condition.”

“What is it?” he said.

“The next time I leave, or run away, or quit, don’t hate me for quite as long,” you said. “Don’t hate me at all. I know I told you that I want you to hate me until you die, but I don’t anymore.”

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay?” you said, in a direct mirror of your previous exchange.

“Okay,” he said. “Come on, then. Follow me.”

“Oh, that, too,” you said. “I won’t follow you. If that’s what you’re expecting, then you can forget about it. I cannot allow myself to follow anyone ever again. I cannot be that weak, or I’ll become someone I despise. Someone I don’t want to be, ever again.”

His expression morphed into one of shock, and then he did something so odd as to be beyond all rationality and logic. He beamed at you before patting you on the head. It wasn’t condescending; it was the kind of gesture that was like a promise, or a warning, depending on who you asked. Maybe in this case, it was both.

“It’s alright. Actually, it’s better if you don’t,” he said. “I like you more when you don’t follow anyone at all.”

[thatgirlstrawberry]

How to Lie to a Behavior Analyst pt. 5

In which Rossi flies down to LA that very night and Y/N finds out who her attacker is along with how her dad had known all along

Warnings: angst, crying, sadness, protective rossi, cursing, lmk if I missed anything!!!

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Every hour in a hospital had been said to last 500 when you were waiting on someone you love. Spencer sat in the waiting room with his leg bouncing up and down. His eyes were trained on a spot in the floor.

On the phone, Rossi said that he was on his way and that he would be there in an hour or two because he would be taking the jet. He also sounded angry, scared, worried— just all of the emotions really.

A million thoughts ran through his head. Who would want to hurt Y/N? What did the note say— the note.

He quickly got up from his seat and rushed towards the doors he came in from. He decided that he should probably move it so ambulances could come in.

So that’s what he did. He quickly moved it out of the way and into a parking space near the doors before turning on the lights in the car and looking for the note.

He avoided the bag of puke sitting on the floor and searched for the piece of paper.

When he finally found it, he decided that he’d wait until he was inside to read it so, he stuck it in his pocket.

His feet carried him quickly into the hospital and he looked around. His eyes landed on a familiar figure damn near leaning over the reception desk.

“I don’t care who fucking brought her here, take me to my damn daughter or I swear to god I’m gonna—“

“Rossi! Rossi, stop!” Spencer shouted, rushing up to him.

The man turned around. “What the fuck happened, Spencer!?” He shouted. “Why won’t anyone tell me anything?”

Spencer was going to answer but he saw the doctor who took Y/N coming their way. “Her doctor.” He pointed.

Rossi moved away from Spencer and met the doctor halfway. “Please, you gotta tell me what’s wrong with my daughter.”

Spencer made his way to them and the doctor glanced between them. “You’re the father and you’re the husband?” He asked.

Rossi shook his head. “This— no this is not her husband. It doesn’t matter, what’s wrong with her. What happened?”

The doctor clicked his tongue. “We pulled some of her blood for testing but I suspect she was injected with a high dosage of Opiates causing her to overdose. We gave her narcan but I’m not sure we gave it to her in time to prevent any brain damage.”

Rossi sighed and covered his face. “Okay— how is she? Can I see her?”

The doctor nodded. “She just woke up but she’s not fully down from her high. Her words aren’t gonna be coherent but I would try to keep her awake for as long as possible so we can asses her brain activity.”

Spencer and Rossi nodded. “Thank you.”

“And try to talk one at a time. Don’t confuse her.” He waved his hand and began walking back towards the room.

It was silent between Spencer and Rossi as they walked. The doctor rambled on about her symptoms and side effects.

He lowered his voice to a whisper and smiled as he walked I to the room. “Y/N?” He spoke. She sat in bed, a frown on her lips. Her eyes were narrowed and they were darting around the room.

“Hi…” She spoke quietly, her voice hoarse.

The doctor glanced back at the two men. “There are some people here to see you.”

They stepped into the room and she looked confused for a moment. “Daddy?” She whispered. She looked at Spencer.

“Hi, Y/N.” Rossi spoke softly, walking up to his daughter’s bed. “How are you feeling?”

She cleared her throat. “Uh… I don’t know how I feel.” She shrugged.

Rossi nodded. “That’s okay, honey.”

Her lip quivered and tears filled her eyes. “Am I dying? I-I don’t know why I’m here— I think I’m dying— Spencer, please. I don’t wanna die.”

Spencer walked up to her, looking at Rossi making sir he knew that it was his turn to speak. “You’re not dying, Y/N.” He shook his head with a small comforting smile. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Her hands fidgeted with each other. “W-well what happened? I don’t know what happened.”

“We’re not sure yet, honey.” Rossi answered. Her head snapped over to his direction. “But we’re gonna figure it out, all right?”

Spencer cleared his throat. “I need to talk to you.” He told Rossi, nodding towards the door.

He nodded and looked at his daughter. “We’ll be right back, okay? Try to stay awake for me.” The men walked out of the room after she nodded sleepily.

“What, Reid?” Rossi snapped when they were in the hallway.

Spencer took the piece of paper out of his pocket. “This. On the way here, she said whoever did this gave it to her.”

Rossi snatched it from between his fingers and unfolded it. “‘A liar, your… father is… I deserve someone too. The twig’s heart will be snapped in half when I get you back because it will be forever. And you will be mine.’” Rossi furrowed his brows. “What the hell is this? What does it mean?”

Spencer shrugged. “I don’t know. Our best bet right now is to look at the hotel security cameras. We might catch him there.”

Rossi sighed. “You know I’m gonna have to call the team if we can’t do it ourselves right?”

Spencer nodded. “Rossi, please. Please don’t tell anyone about us. That way, I can still work on the case. You know that you need me.”

The man sighed. “Why don’t you get ahold of the LAPD. I need to stay with my daughter.”

Spencer nodded and sighed heavily, walking away and pulling his phone out of his pocket.

.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

The LAPD showed up at the hospital and hour after Spencer called them. He stood outside of Y/N’s room getting the sense that Rossi didn’t want him in there.

The doctor told them that a side effect of the Narcan they gave her was crying so he stood out there listening to her sob uncontrollably. Rossi had to resort to singing her an old Italian nursery rhyme to get her to calm down.

The lead detective met Spencer in the hallway followed by a few officers. “Good evening. Mr. Reid?”

He kicked off of the wall and nodded. “Yes, hi. Detective Lassiter, thank you for coming.” He nodded.

“So, unfortunately, we don’t have a warrant to look at the security camera footage.” Detective Lassiter explained. “But we do have permission to sweep the floor for any DNA left on the walls and floors only.”

Spencer was angry. “No cameras? Are you fucking serious?” His chest heaved. His fists were in tight balls.

He nodded somberly. “I’m sorry sir. We’re gonna need to ask the victim some questions, if now’s a good time.”

Spencer shrugged. “I’m sure she won’t remember anything but you can try.”

He turned into the room and his eyes softened when he saw Y/N in her father’s arms rocking back and forth.

“Y/N?” He called softly. She lifted her head from her father’s shoulder and looked at him.

“Oh h-hi.” She looked at the men behind her.

He walked forward slowly. “This is detective Lassiter. He wants to ask you a few questions, is that okay?”

Y/N looked at her dad nervously. “C-can I?” She asked. Rossi tilted his head and nodded.

The woman sat up and pulled her knees to her chest. She looked up at Spencer and glanced at the chair next to her bed with pleading eyes.

He cleared his throat and moved through the room, sitting beside her. He scooted the chair a little closer.

Detective Lassiter sat in the chair in front of the bed and the officer behind him pulled out a pen and pad.

“What’s your name, ma’am?” He asked.

She swallowed and cleared her throat. “Y/N R-Rossi.”

The officer scribbled down on the paper. “And how old are you?”

“26.”

The detective straightened up and cleared his throat. “And I understand that you were… taken out of the hotel by someone. Do you remember what you were doing when it happened?”

Y/N inhaled sharply. “I uh… I remember my teeth hurting.” Her voice was quiet. “And it was cold. And I remember… Ice.” She shook her head.

She glanced up at the officer who was nodding and writing. “Anything else?”

She looked down at her fidgeting hands. “I know… he said something to me.” She nodded. “I can’t remember— I just know he said— something.” Her eyes watered. “I’m sorry. I can’t remember anything else.”

She reached for Spencer’s hand but remembered who all was in the room and played it off like she was just grabbing the edge of her itchy hospital blanket.

The detective nodded. “Okay that’s okay. Take your time.” He sighed. “Can you remember anything before the ice.”

Y/N pressed her lips together. “Um… her eyebrows furrowed. Um… sweating a-and feeling really… good.” Spencer could tell that she didn’t know what was happening. She was describing the sex that they had before she left the room.

Rossi behind her and glared at Spencer. Of course he knew what was happening. He cleared his throat. “Okay. That’s it, detective. Thank you.” The father nodded. “I think Y/N needs some rest.”

He nodded. “Of course.” He got up from his seat, looking at Y/N. “Ms. Rossi, thank you. If you remember anything else, give me a call.” He leaned forward and placed a card on her bed.

She nodded and looked at her father and then Spencer. “Thank you. I will.”

The officers and Detective Lassiter left the room and it fell silent. Y/N squeezed her eyes shut tightly. “Sweetheart, what are you doing?”

She let out a heavy breath. “I’m trying to remember the words.” She said. “I— I Can hear the voice but the sounds are— like mixed a-and I don’t know- I can’t—“

Rossi shushed her soothingly. “It’s okay, Y/N. I promise. We’ll find this son of a bitch one way or another.” Y/N nodded and Rossi stood up. “I’m going to go get you something to eat, okay?”

She gave him a weak smile. “Thanks, dad.”

He left the room and she looked at her boyfriend. “W-wait, Spencer why does he think you’re here?” She asked. He looked at her with furrowed brows and parted lips. “Wait, how did he even hear about this? Did someone call him?”

Spencer sighed and leaned forward. “Um… Y/N, he knows.”

Her eyes widened. “He knows?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

She covered her face with her hands and groaned quietly. “Is he mad at me?” She asked. “At you? Oh, I don’t want him to be mad at you.” She shook her head.

“He hasn’t said anything about it yet. He’s not mad.”

Spencer still felt like he was lying to her somehow.

.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

Spencer paced the halls of the hospital trying to get ahold of Penelope. He bit his lip as the phone rang too slowly for his liking.

“Boy wonder! How’s your mommy trip?” She asked when she answered the phone.

He cleared his throat. “Garcia, I need you to hack into a set of hotel security cameras but I need you to do it privately.” He spoke. “And I need you to send the feed to my phone.”

“Uhhhhhh first of all, say hi to me first. Second of all, why and what hotel?”

He licked his lips. “Hi, García. Angeles, 6th floor please.” He nodded.

“You never said why, Reid.” She hummed.

“Because I’m trying to figure out who drugged Y/N, now can you please just do it?” He snapped.

There was a gulp on the other end and his phone made a beeping noise. He pulled it away from his ear and pressed accept on a feed share notification.

Suddenly, his screen filled with a not so smooth video. “Can you switch angles so I can see room 612?” Spencer asked quietly, biting his lip. The camera switched angles four times until it stopped so they can clearly see the room and the ice machine across the hallway. “Okay, now can you back it up to like 9:45 pm?” He asked.

The video began to reverse itself quickly and Spencer saw a familiar figure on the screen. “Okay, stop!” He shouted.

Garcia stopped pressed rewind and let the feed play. Y/N was seen walking out of a hotel room with a black bucket. She had a smile on her face and a pep in her step.

She stopped at the ice machine and a figure dressed in black pants and a black shirt came from the entry way of the hall. It didn’t look like Y/N noticed him. He came up behind her and grabbed a handful of ice out of the bucket and shoved it into her mouth. There was no sound on the feed but he could tell that was to muffle her shouts.

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows and brought the phone closer to his face. He hated seeing her like this but he had to figure out who did this to her.

Y/N began kicking her feet as he lifted her off the ground with one arm as he reached into his pocket with his other. The bucket fell from her hands and spilled all over the floor. Spencer’s eyebrows popped up when he saw her bite his hand.

Then, he pulled a syringe out of his pocket and jabbed it harshly into her neck. She went limp in his arms and a few ice chips fell from her mouth.

He put her down on her feet and propped her against his side and wrapped her arm around his shoulders. Her feet were barely moving and her head hung down low.

“Oh my god.” Penelope gasped.

Spencer shook his head. “Rewind it to the part where he came into the shot.” He ordered.

She did and he told her to pause and zoom in. “There.”

“Is that…?” Penelope started.

“Benjamin Fitz.”

.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

Y/N looked between her dad and Spencer. Rossi still had no idea who drugged Y/N. Neither did the victim.

“Okay.” He looked at Rossi. “I know I wasn’t supposed to do this but I called Garcia and I had her hack into the security cameras at the hotel.”

Rossi sighed. “What the hell, Reid.”

“Just stop- I know who did this.” He told them. “It was Benjamin Fitz.”

Rossi looked down and Y/N gasped. “No, no. That’s right.” She nodded. “I think I recognized his voice. I knew I recognized his voice.”

The older man sighed. “Shit, Y/N. I’m sorry.”

She furrowed her brows. “Dad, it’s not your fault-“

“I only set you up with him because I wanted to get back at you and Spencer for going behind my back.” Y/N paused her movements and looked up at him. Spencer shut his eyes like he didn’t want Rossi to say anything.

Y/N scoffed. “Wait. Y-you knew?” She asked, her face getting hot. Rossi nodded and she looked at Spencer, tearing up. “And you knew that he knew?”

Spencer opened his mouth but no words came out.

“So.. you set me up with a psycho because you were mad and you…” She looked at her boyfriend. “You let me run around like an idiot when I didn’t even have to all along?”

“Y/N, I—“

“Get the fuck out.” She snapped. Rossi tilted his head but neither of them moved. “I’m serious get the fuck out!”

Rossi sighed and looked down before doing as she wished and leaving the room. Spencer was still left standing there. “Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t want—“

Y/N scoffed. “Spencer, get out. Seriously, I don’t want to see you right now.”

He let out a sad breath and turned around, walking out the door and shutting it.

Y/N sat there in tears for a moment.

A moment until she heard a shout and a gunshot.

.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.

AHHHHHHHHHHH

Next chapter is the last!!!! Also who expected it to be Ben from the book party?!?!?

And the ending to this one might seem a little rushed so sorry about that :)))

Love ya bunches ❤️❤️❤️

Taglist:

@mrsgweasley

@tuesday-yellowxx

@blue-willows

@monzarella

@winkev1

@criminallymagic

@mermateyepmatewithte

@lipstixstain

@urlovelydarling

@dreatine

@f-me-reid

@fantastic-fans

@aleyda5

@thatsonezesty13

@creativeuser101

@d0ntfeedaftermidnight

@jacksonms31

@scorpiofangirl1109

@perseuswaves

@baseballmama35

@lilybarnesposts

@s-udaku-my-love

@melifluorei-d

@lavenderrway

[eveistdiepommes]

Classes Start !

“World Academy is like… suuuuper prestigious! Everyone who goes there is either at the top of their class, or they had the money to get in! Either way, you’re surrounded by brilliance no matter which hallway you turn down!”

Hiiiiiieeeee everyone!! Welcome to my newest AU! If you couldn’t tell, it’s a College AU! I’ve been struggling recently with making art, but yesterday something clicked and I started doodling tons and tons and this was the result! Safe to say, my art block is at bay for now!! I started doodling for this AU because I wanted to tweak my art style a bit and because I just wanted a universe where lighthearted, funny things might happen! And as I drew and drew, I started thinking up more lore, more character backstories, and just having a ball thinking of all the characters’ dynamics! So, welcome to World University!

(Character bios and info below!)

Feliciano is quite brilliant in his own unique way, as Lovino knows and as Ludwig will find out. Feliciano has the amazing ability to draw what he sees photorealistically, and his brain seems to be able to break down architecture to its finest detail. His paintings are breathtaking, his skills are unmatched, no wonder he earned a scholarship! Ludwig, who was so sure of who he was, starts to question everything after returning a blueprint the elusive Feliciano had dropped. Ludwig comes from a very prestigious family, a family of winners, a family of business. So of course, he is to follow in his father’s footsteps, just like his older brother is. But… What if he… doesn’t want to do that? What if he wanted to explore other ideas, other concepts, where nothing is concrete and everything is colorful? It’s scary… not being sure… But he is sure of one thing! Feliciano is quite beautiful.

It’s a hassle to deal with his brother though! Calloused and on guard, Lovino is always there to speak up on his younger sibling’s behalf, maybe a bit too much. Lovino just gets worried, as their family does not come from money. He doesn’t need some rich assholes picking on his brother like kids did in middle and high school! Working as a model, Lovino is starting to gain attention, which means more money to support him and his brother. And he is just fine with this. He never thought this would be his profession, but he can’t deny, it is a big confidence boost!

Arthur was never a fan of his parents. They pressured the hell out of his older brothers, and then they turned their sights on him. Their pressure was harder on him though, as it wasn’t just to do well, but to do well and be “ladylike.” Safe to say, as soon as Arthur escaped to college he completely abandoned what they had taught him, finally cutting his hair, finally dressing how he wanted, finally living how he wanted to live. And when they came to visit one year, and saw the changes he had made, they were furious. One thing led to another, and Arthur lashed out, declaring that he was dropping out of college to pursue what he wanted to pursue. And he soon learned that his parents had cut him off from their funds completely, leaving him stranded in the town.

Francis is idolized around the school, mostly by other fashion students. Many have confessed their crushes to him, only to be met with a chuckle and gentle rejection. No one understands him! In the years before, he hadn’t been so reserved, flirting freely with peers and what not. But something has changed, and sometimes, people have seen him at some grungy joint where the scene is way too sketchy and the music is way too loud. After Arthur got off stage, it was Francis’ cue to follow him. He heard something curious the other day, something he wanted to ask Arthur. So, meeting him out back, Arthur scolded him for sneaking up on him. And through a game of mental chess, Francis had learned that what he heard was true; Arthur had no safe place to sleep. He decided then and there, Arthur would be going back to his dorm, even if he had to sneak him and that obnoxious guitar case in.

Kiku could relate to being pressured. It was a hassle just for his family to let him choose illustration as his major. But once he was set, he was achieving what was expected of him, he excelled. That was, until two years in he got sick. See, Kiku has a very weak immune system, it had given him issues in his childhood, and now it seemed such conditions were back to haunt him. After taking a year off, he’s been struggling to get back to the top. His anxiety has risen, his focus seems to be dwindling. Arthur helps him study, and what a kind and noble thing to do. But some days, he just needs to let off steam and go to the arcade to set a new high score on one of the many rhythm games. What he was never expecting… was to be challenged by the human embodiment of the sun.

Ivan had lived a quite solitary life until now. Even when he started college, many did not seem interested in being his friend, maybe because of his intimidating stature, or his accidentally off color comments. But when he dances, he frees his mind from any troubles, completely absorbed in the music. One would never guess from his height and build how easily he can float through the air, and it’s quite exhilarating to watch! Well, according to Yao! The ever energetic Yao met Ivan in a class they shared, and for the first time in his life, Ivan had been approached with a beaming smile and sparkling eyes. Yao was innocently curious of Ivan’s diet and workout regiment, exclaiming how cool he looked unabashedly. This made Ivan’s face red! He had never been fussed over, his sisters didn’t count!

Alfred heard all about Ivan from Yao, becoming excited at the prospects of more friends! Alfred seemed like he was the polar opposite of Ivan in the friendship regards. Almost anyone at the university could easily find themselves talking to Alfred, he was just that personable! But Alfred didn’t have many close friends. He had his twin Matthew of course, and he had Yao and Ludwig, but that was it! No one really stuck around beyond small talk. Maybe that’s why he went out of the way to climb through a forming crowd in the arcade one day to see just who had all eyes on them? He wanted attention too, you know? To say he was surprised would be an understatement. The guy his eyes landed on playing the game was like expert level good! Being the cocky guy he is, he couldn’t help but offer a challenge, even if he was sure he’d lose. That guy was just too cool! He wanted to be closer!

Matthew has struggled in school in the past. It’s not that he doesn’t understand, it’s just that he could never get the words out to explain his understanding. Oral presentations were living hell, as was socializing and trying to fit in. But with his twin brother’s help, Matthew got through high school and made his way into college. The change of pace was rough at first, often resulting in meltdowns from not comprehending what he felt he should be comprehending. His grades were excellent, and his love for nature and the arctic were always very apparent… maybe even too apparent. See, that’s what he couldn’t comprehend still; he couldn’t socialize. Alfred talked to people so easily, but Matthew struggled greatly. He knew from a child he had selective mutism, but it seemed that even when he wanted to speak, he’d choke! His palms would get clammy, he’d start collapsing in on himself. And then the dreaded day came where he had to give an oral presentation… in college. If it weren’t for his white haired peer, he surely would have gotten a bad grade. But miraculously, with Gilbert, he started finding his voice.

Gilbert does not care what his parents expect from him. He doesn’t care what anyone expects from him, well, except for maybe one person… But either way, Gilbert is a completely free spirit, doing what he wants and making his own way! He’s a class clown, often cracking jokes at the expense of the professors, but when he heard that soft little giggle cut through the crowd, his interest was definitely piqued. He attempted to speak to Matthew after that, being met with a stumbling, awkward response, which was somehow even more endearing. Gilbert learned quickly through Ludwig, who was told by Alfred, of Matthew’s past, his struggles in socialization, and his lonely habits. How could anyone not love talking to him? He had a bear fact for every conversation! What is there not to like? Gilbert was quickly becoming attached.