#my brain is making ideas…. the gears r turning

[starshapedspider]

grandpa and grandson bonding time

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Against Lore

For the rest of May, my bestselling solarpunk utopian novel THE LOST CAUSE (2023) is available as a $2.99, DRM-free ebook!

One of my favorite nuggets of writing advice comes from James D Macdonald. Jim, a Navy vet with an encylopedic knowledge of gun lore, explained to a group of non-gun people how to write guns without getting derided by other gun people: "just add the word 'modified.'"

As in, "Her modified AR-15 kicked against her shoulder as she squeezed the trigger, but she held it steady on the car door, watching it disintegrate in a spatter of bullet-holes."

Jim's big idea was that gun people couldn't help but chew away at the verisimilitude of your fictional guns, their brains would automatically latch onto them and try to find the errors. But the word "modified" hijacked that impulse and turned it to the writer's advantage: a gun person's imagination gnaws at that word "modified," spinning up the cleverest possible explanation for how the gun in question could behave as depicted.

In other words, the gun person's impulse to one-up the writer by demonstrating their superior knowledge becomes an impulse to impart that superior knowledge to the writer. "Modified" puts the expert and the bullshitter on the same team, and conscripts the expert into fleshing out the bullshitter's lies.

Yes, writing is lying. Storytelling is genuinely weird. A storyteller who has successfully captured the audience has done so by convincing their hindbrains to care about the tribulations of imaginary people. These are people whose suffering, by definition, do not matter. Imaginary things didn't happen, so they can't matter. The deaths of Romeo and Juliet were less tragic than the death of the yogurt you had for breakfast. That yogurt was alive and now it's dead, whereas R&J never lived, never died, and don't matter:

https://locusmag.com/2014/11/cory-doctorow-stories-are-a-fuggly-hack/

Hijacking a stranger's empathic response is intrinsically adversarial. While storytelling is a benign activity, its underlying mechanic is extremely dangerous. Getting us to care about things that don't matter is how novels and movies work, but it's also how cults and cons work.

Cult leaders and con-artists know that they're engaged in mind-to-mind combat, and they make liberal use of Jim's hack of leaving blank spots for the mark to fill in. Think of Qanon drops: the mystical nonsense was just close enough to sensical that a vulnerable audience was compelled to try and untangle them, and ended up imparting more meaning to them than the hustler who posted them ever could have dreamt up.

Same with cons – there's a great scene in the Leverage: Redemption heist show where an experienced con-artist explains to a novice that the most convincing hustle is the one where you wait for the mark to tell you what they think you're doing, then run with it (scambaiters and other skeptics will recognize this as a relative of the "cold reading," where a "psychic" uses your own confirmations to flesh out their predictions).

As Douglas Adams put it:

A towel has immense psychological value. For some reason, if a strag (strag: non-hitch hiker) discovers that a hitch hiker has his towel with him, he will automatically assume that he is also in possession of a toothbrush, face flannel, soap, tin of biscuits, flask, compass, map, ball of string, gnat spray, wet weather gear, space suit etc., etc. Furthermore, the strag will then happily lend the hitch hiker any of these or a dozen other items that the hitch hiker might accidentally have "lost". What the strag will think is that any man who can hitch the length and breadth of the galaxy, rough it, slum it, struggle against terrible odds, win through, and still knows where his towel is is clearly a man to be reckoned with.

Magicians know this one, too. The point of a sleight is to misdirect the audience's attention, and use that moment of misattention to trick them, vanishing, stashing or producing something. The mark's mind is caught in a pleasurable agony: something seemingly impossible just happened. The mind splits into two parts, one of which insists that the impossible just happened, the other insisting that the impossible can't happen.

You know you've done it right if the audience says, "Do that again!" And that's the one thing you must not do. So long as you don't repeat the trick, the audience's imagination will chew on it endlessly, coming up with incredibly clever things that you must have done (a clever conjurer will know several ways to produce the same effect and will "do it again" by reproducing the effect via different means, which exponentially increases the audience's automatic imputation of clever methods to the performer).

Not for nothing, Jim Macdonald advises his writing students to study Magic and Showmanship, a classic text for aspiring conjurers:

https://memex.craphound.com/2007/11/13/magic-and-showmanship-classic-book-about-conjuring-has-many-lessons-for-writers/

There's a version of this in comedy, too. The scholarship of humor is clear on this: comedy comes from surprise. The audience knows they're about to be surprised when the punchline lands, and their mind is furiously trying to defuse the comedian's bomb before it detonates, cycling through potential punchlines of their own. This ramps up the suspense and the tension, so when the comedian does drop the punchline, the tension is released in a whoosh of laughter.

Your mind wants the tension to be resolved ASAP, but the pleasure comes from having that desire thwarted. Comedy – like most performance – has an element of authoritarianism. You don't give the audience what it wants, you give it what it needs.

Same goes for TTRPGs: the game master's role is to deny the players the victories and treasure they want, until they can't take it anymore, and then deliver it. That's the definition of an epic game. It's one of the durable advantages of human GMs over video game back-ends: they can ramp up the epicness by "cheating" on the play, giving the players the chance to squeak out improbable victories at the last possible second:

https://wilwheaton.typepad.com/wwdnbackup/2009/03/behind-the-screen.html

This is so effective that even crude approximations of it can turn video-games into cult hits – like Left4Dead, whose "Director" back-end would notice when the players were about to get destroyed and then substantially ramped up the chances of finding an amazing weapon – the chance would still be low overall, but there would be enough moments when the player got exactly what they'd been praying for, at the last possible instant, that it would feel amazing:

https://left4dead.fandom.com/wiki/The_Director#Special_Infected

Critically, Left4Dead's Director didn't do this every time. As any showman knows, the key to a great performance is "Always leave 'em wanting more." The musician's successful finale depends on doing every encore the audience demands, except the last one, so the crowd leaves with one tantalyzing and imaginary song playing in their minds, a performance better than any the musicians themselves could have delivered. Like the gun person who comes up with a cooler mod than the writer ever could, like the magic show attendee who comes up with a more elaborate explanation for the sleight than the conjurer could ever pull off, like the comedy club attendee whose imagination anticipates a surprise that grows larger the longer the joke goes on, the successful performance is an adversarial act of cooperation where the audience willingly and unwillingly cooperates with the performer to deny them the thing that they think they need, and deliver the thing they actually need.

This is my biggest problem with the notion that someday LLMs will get good enough at storytelling to give us the tales we demand, without having to suffer through a storyteller's sadistic denial of the resolutions we crave. When I'm reading a mystery, I want to turn to the last page and find out whodunnit, but I know that doing so will ruin the story. Telling the storyteller how the story should go is like trying to tickle yourself.

Like being tickled, experiencing only fun if the tickler respects your boundaries – but, like being tickled, there's always a part where you're squirming away, but you don't want it to stop. An AI storyteller that gives you exactly what you want is like a dungeon master who declares that every sword-swing kills the monster, and every treasure chest is full of epic items and platinum pieces. Yes, that's what you want, but if you get it, what's the point?

Seen in this light, performance is a kind of sado-masochism, where the performer delights in denying something to the audience, who, in turn, delights in the denial. Don't give the audience what they want, give them what they need.

What your audience needs is their own imagination. Decades ago, I was a freelance copywriter producing sales materials for Alias/Wavefront, a then-leading CGI firm that was inventing all kinds of never-seen VFX that would blow people away. One of the engineers I worked with told me something I never forgot: "Your imagination has more polygons than anything you can create with our software." He was talking about why it was critical to have some of the action happen in the shadows.

All of this is why series tend to go downhill. The first volume in any series leaves so much to the imagination. The map of the world is barely fleshed out, the characters' biographies are full of blank spots, the mechanics of the artifacts and the politics of the land are all just detailed enough that your mind automatically ascribes a level of detail to them, without knowing what that detail is.

This is the moment at which everything seems very clever, because your mind is just churning with all the different bits of elaborate lore that will fill in those lacunae and make them all fit together.

SPOILER ALERT: I'm about to give some spoilers for Furiosa.

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FURIOSA SPOILERS AHEAD!

Last night, we went to see Furiosa, the latest Mad Max movie, a prequel to 2015's Fury Road, which is one of the greatest movies ever made. Like most prequels, Furiosa functions as a lore-delivery vehicle, and as such, it's nowhere near as good as Fury Road.

Fury Road hints as so much worldbuilding. We learn about the three fortresses of the wasteland (the Citadel, the Bullet Farm, and Gastown) but we only see one (The Citadel). We learn that these three cities have a symbiotic relationship with one another, defined by a complex politics that is just barely stable. We meet Furiosa herself, and learn something of her biography – that she had been stolen from the Green Place, that she had suffered an arm amputation.

All of this is left for us to fill in, and for a decade, my hindbrain has been chewing on all of that, coming up with cool ways it could all fit together. I yearned to know the "real" explanation, but it was always unlikely that this real explanation would be as enjoyable as my own partial, ever-unfinished headcanon.

Furiosa is a great movie, but its worst parts are the canonical lore it settles. Partly, that's because some of that lore is just stupid. Why is the Bullet Farm an open-pit mine? I mean, it's visually amazing, but what does that have to do with making bullets? Sometimes, it's because the lore is banal – the solarpunk Green Place is a million times less cool than I had imagined it. Sometimes, it's because the lore is banal and stupid: the scenes where Furiosa's arm is crushed, then severed, then replaced, are both rushed and quasi-miraculous:

https://www.themarysue.com/how-does-furiosa-lose-her-arm/

But even if the lore had been good – not stupid, not banal – the best they could have hoped for was for the lore to be tidy. If it were surprising, it would seem contrived. A story whose loose ends have been tidily snipped away seems like it would be immensely satisfying, but it's not satisfying – it's just resolved. Like the band performing every encore you demand, until you no longer want to hear the band anymore – the feeling as you leave the hall isn't satisfaction, it's exhaustion.

So long as some key question remains unresolved, you're still wanting more. So long as the map has blank spots, your hindbrain will impute clever and exciting mysteries, tantalyzingly teetering on the edge of explicability, to the story.

Lore is always better as something to anticipate than it is to receive. The fans demand lore, but it should be doled out sparingly. Always leave 'em wanting more.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/27/cmon-do-it-again/#better_to_remain_silent_and_be_thought_a_fool_than_to_speak_and_remove_all_doubt

[mcondance]

other side of the game; hobie brown

summary // hobie swings by when you’re cleaning your room, and you know exactly what he wants.

cw // dubcon-ish (you say stuff akin to no but like.. you want it. it’s just a game you n hobie play), they talk a lot of shit, missionary

extras // you and hobie r Black so i don't wanna hear anything abt the grammar i used! "it's supposed to be doesn't" kill yourself idc, the song has. nothing to do with what happens in this fic btw it just.. it makes sense when you read it and it helped me write

wc // 2.6k

song shoutouts // special thanks to other side of the game by erykah badu and i get lonely by janet jackson

signing off // thank you to poetnon for this idea i hope you like this <3

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you know the second you hear the knocks at your window that you won't be getting anything else done today. he does this every fucking time.

walking across your room, you unlock the window for your boyfriend, eyes meeting his as you psyche yourself up for what you know is coming.

you return your attention to your desk, and with your back turned to him, you hear him slide his lanky body through the frame, landing softly on your carpeted floor.

"you busy?" he muses pointlessly, already shrugging his jacket off and reaching down to untie his boots. player one, ready?

"yeah," you hum pointlessly too, hands fiddling with the trinkets on your desk. maybe if you don't look at him, you won't cave. player two, ready?

"what you up to?" his voice grows closer. you close your eyes, breathing deep and slow to try to build your resolve, but you can hear him inching towards you, the clinging of his belts giving his movements away.

"cleanin' my room." you spin around, figuring you'd face your doom instead. his shoes are off now, placed up against the wall under your window. and now the game has started.

"mhm. well don't let me stop you," he smiles, and you wish you could say that it didn't put another dent in your already rusty resolve, but it does. with shaking hands crossed in front of you, you push yourself up and away from your desk and move across your room to your pile of clothes, folding shit hastily, already so fucking nervous.

he takes your place leaning against your desk and scans your room, taking in how much you’ve already gotten done. it makes him feel a little less bad about what he’s going to do. “looks good already. how long you been cleanin’?”

“since like, 10.”

“mhm. ‘s 2:24 now. think you’re ready for a break?” you snap your head towards him, rolling your eyes and screwing your lips up at the implications of his words.

“not the kinda break you’re talking about,” you sneer, rolling your eyes again as you return your focus to the meaningless pile of clothes.

“and what kinda break is that?”

“the kinda break when you end up inside me. i don’t have time for it.” you don’t face him as you speak. you can’t. if you do, it’s all over. you don’t want it to end just yet. it’s fun. it always is.

“what, you think ‘m just tryna get in your pants? i jus’ think my girl should have a little rest, yeah?” at his words you drop the shirt in your hand, switching gears to organize your nightstand instead.

“you’re lying. you always do this.”

“do what?”

“this. you come here and sweet talk me and the next thing i know i’m under you and my room doesn’t get cleaned. i’m not doing this today.”

he’s silent— your brain isn’t. you know it’s only a matter of time until he’s doing exactly what he’s doing now.. wrapping his slim fingers around your waist and pulling you back onto him.

speaking directly against your ear, he finally comes out with what he wants. “take a break, baby, lemme make you feel good." his lips meet your neck, ghosting over your heated skin.

"can't, hobes, i gotta clean up,” you whine, but it's futile at this point, cause you're already leaning back onto him, already tilting your neck to the side to give him more access, already dropping the half-empty water bottle in your hand.

"you sure, love? y'can clean up after we're done, hm? i'll help you.” he sounds earnest, like he really cares. you shake your head no, but you let him pull you away from your desk and turn you around. "gotta clean," you repeat, but you let him push you down onto your ruffled sheets.

"then clean." he’s standing over you now with his hands tucked into his pockets, and he motions towards the pile of clothes with his head, knowing eyes fixed on your frame sprawled out on your bed. from here, the light frames him perfectly, and he looks so damn pretty. maybe you'll blame what you do next on that. doesn't matter now, though. eyes meeting, you both know you're not getting up— seconds pass with you both staring, a silent confirmation, and hobie knows your answer.

shrugging, he leans down with his hands still in his pockets, placing a damning kiss on your lips, murmuring "gave you a chance, baby. knew you didn't give a fuck about cleanin'." and he's right, embarrassingly so, so you roll your eyes, channeling your faux-frustration into a rough kiss, curling your hands under the straps of his t-shirt.

he falls forward, hands flying from his pockets to balance himself on top of you. smiling against your lips, he speaks again, “see. . you want it. you’re desperate.”

his hips start to rock against yours, stacked belts clinging against your dangling legs. hands finding the side of his face, you huff at his irritating need to almost shame you, to show for some made-up record that no matter how much you turn him down, you want him. you need him.

so you push your hips against his, humming at the groan that flies from his lips. tapping your thigh, he ushers you up the bed, your bodies turning until your head is laid on your pillows.

he reaches down between you two, sliding your shorts to the side to rub his fingers against your already sloppy cunt, smiling when he feels and sees how wet you are. “cleaning my ass,” he jokes, kissing you before you can get upset again.

sliding his fingers up, he brushes the pads of them over your sensitive clit, swallowing the pretty moans that start to flow from your spit-slicked lips. hobie knows you like the back of his hand, knows just how much pressure you need, how tight his circles have to be, knows how to make you cum hard, and cum fast.

it’s always like this when he comes by with the goal to distract you— you always end up under him with whatever you have on pushed hastily to the side, fully clothed and his hand between your legs, shaking arms wrapped around his neck. it’s desperate, really, both your need to get off.

though you try to remain steadfast, try to act like you don’t want this, the way your hips move against his hand gives you away. “did all that sayin’ ‘no’, bu’ look.” he points his eyes down, towards where his hand is hovering above your cunt, fingers glistening.

“‘course ‘m wet, don’t mean shit.”

“it don’t? that’s wild, love,” he slides two fingers in without warning and presses his thumb against your clit before he starts his circles again, other hand moving to hold you in place when you thrash against him, “cause last time i had t’almost beg. ‘n the time before that, i did beg.”

you know what he’s trying to say, and it makes heat rise in your face and makes your eyes close, cause you can’t face him. no matter, though, cause he grabs your face, spits, “open your eyes. look a’me.”

you open your eyes and meet his low ones, ones that are always black with lust, ones that bore straight through you and make you feel so small and dirty underneath their gaze. he nods at your obedience, and then his fingers catch that spot inside you, and the licks of flame inside you morph into something like a fire, lighting you up with pleasure. you’re close, so close.

“you’re gettin’ easier, baby. act all you want, you’re desperate.” that sends you over the edge, and it’s embarrassing. it’s filthy, how he just has to talk to you a little mean and you’re cumming on his fingers, shaking as you choked out sobs of his name, like you weren’t just telling him to leave you alone 10 minutes ago.

before you even come down he’s kissing you, pulling your shirt up to free your tits.

"fuck you." you spew as you separate, but you still pull him closer, position him where his clothed dick rubs right against your cunt, kept away by the fabric of his sweats and your shorts that have almost rolled back into place.

"you will, in a second," he bites back, a wicked smile plastered across his ethereal features— features that are driving you fucking insane.

you’ve grown sick of his mouth— fisting his hair, you yank hard, drawing a pained moan from him and another drag of his cock against you. “you keep talking all this shit, but you’re the one who came up to my window looking for some ass. i don’t wanna hear it.”

“yeah? and you’re the one who kept going on about havin’ to clean your room, but i got you in bed so easy. we’re both fucked.”

and it’s true. the statement grounds both of you, and you both realize just where you are— inches apart, seconds away from what you both want. snapping out of it at the same time, your hands tangle together as you reach for each other’s bottoms, you freeing his pretty dick and him ripping your shorts right down the middle.

you laugh at his haste, his deep chuckles mixing with your giggles, foreheads meeting as you both calm down after your frenzy.

“‘m sorry. still forget how strong i am.”

“‘s fine. just fuck me already.”

“ehhh,” hand around his cock, sliding his tip up and down your waiting cunt, he teases once more, “y’sure you don’ wanna clean? room’s still a bit messy.”

“hobie, i swear to god, if you do not put it in me now i will pin you down and take it.” reading your eyes, he can tell you’re dead serious.

“‘s much as i’d love that,” he slides in with a pretty groan, and you wrap your arms around his neck with a throaty whine, “i want you like this.” pushing his hips up, he seats himself inside you.

breathing heavy, you both just take a second to calm down, to bask in the feeling of being intertwined with your lover again, no matter how annoying they can be. with closed eyes, you throw your head back, resting on your pillows. hobie takes that as a sign to spread kisses down your jaw, grinning when you smile.

“move,” you breathe, shifting your hips to give him better access.

that first stroke always drives you both crazy. the slow pull out, faces contorting in pleasure, bodies getting closer and closer until the next best thing is merging together again, you pushing down and him pushing up and then his cock takes its rightful place inside you, sensitive tip leaking against your cervix.

“‘m all the way in, love, can feel the end of you,” he murmurs against your neck, and you nod, curling your arms tighter around his neck. then, he just grinds, circles his hips, just barely pulling out.

it’s perfect, the way your bodies move against each other, giving and receiving pleasure at the end of the game you both love playing. with fluttery glides and soft slides, and pitchy whines and deep groans, you dunk yourselves into that familiar pool of feeling, let it fill up your noses and mouths until it’s spilling over, your bodies shaking and jerking against each other.

blissed out of your fucking minds, your lips meet the others, lazy connects of your lips that you can just barely call kisses. they’re slack-jawed and sloppy, spit-swapping, the lewd smacks filling the air, mixing with the harmony of fucked-out sounds.

slowly, hobie starts moving his hips around differently, on a mission now, one that has you tensing up, cause it never takes him long to find it, that sweet spot that has you—

“fuck,” you drawl, throwing your head back, and hobie just smiles and keeps his hips moving that way, keeps his cock kissing that same spot.

"that's it?" he hums.

when you try to articulate what you're feeling, try to tell him "yeah", the words never come. instead, he's raising up to spread your legs and balancing himself above you, switching from slow grinds to deep thrusts that have him pressing against that spot even more now.

now, with him slapping his hips against yours and his thumb on your clit, the sound fills the room, skin against skin. jolting against him, his eyes are still trained on yours, fixed on the furrow of your eyebrows and the o-shape your lips make, focused on how pretty you look when he fucks you.

your choppy moans fill his ears, the background to his barrage of words that fill yours. sentences about how pretty you look, how good you feel, how he just wants to fuck you forever, and then for the second time without warning, you cum again, right when he says something about wanting to keep you fucked and filled, "'s why i keep comin' over, cause i wan' you full of me all the time."

it's gentle, this time, streams of feeling flowing softly through you. hobie makes sure to keep his pace steady through it all, makes sure he prolongs it as long as he can.

when you come down, you're pushing up on his hips with shaking hands, nodding your head and telling him to move. he doesn't waste a second, lifts up and grabs your headboard with one hand to give himself some leverage, his other hand resting on your calf. this time around, he's forgotten all that slow shit.

he rocks his hips hard and fast, jolting you up, and your back rubs against your sheets, your hands fly to your thighs to ground yourself.

"keep 'em open," he slurs, eyes fixed on where he disappears inside you, on the way you cream on his cock, his pretty dick painted white. "watch," he tells you, "she swallow me up so nice." his tone is awe-filled, brown eyes lit up at the visual of you taking him so well.

your eyes roll back in your head, another wave of arousal overtaking you and you can't watch any longer or you'll go crazy, so you watch his face instead. watch his pretty fucking face contort in pleasure, watching his eyebrow piercings dance in the light, watch his sharp jaw clench when you clench around him.

and god, it’s building up again. how could have ever even thought you’d clean up today, when this is so much better. “you gonna cum?” he asks, cause he knows your tells better than you do. you nod shakily, hands gripping onto your thighs so hard you swear you feel your fingers going numb.

“then do it.” it’s an order, really, and you know what he means. hand flying to your clit, you rub messy circles, and hobie moves his hand from your calf to your thigh to keep you open for him. nodding with wild eyes, he watches you make yourself cum, watches your circles became sloppy side-to-side motions while you whine and almost fucking cry, watches your cunt clamp down on him and suck him in “like she don’t wanna let go.”

through the mind-fuck in your head, you hear him groan loud, and then he’s cumming too, gripping your headboard so hard you swear you hear a soft crack, but fuck the headboard, cause hobie looks so pretty when he cums that it don’t even matter.

laughing, blissed out of your minds, hobie lays down on top of you, breathing hard and sweaty as shit, just like you are.

“i really did need to clean my room though, hobie.” you hum, turning your head to face him.

“i wasn’t just tryin’ to get in your pants, love, i was serious about helpin’,” he mumbles against your neck. and he does help. by the time he’s sliding back through your window and kissing you goodbye, your room is perfect.

[zoeykallus]

Hm? *gets hit in the face with a note* GAH- *opens the note* another request? But it’s with- *ahem* “I request Reader x Crosshair but make it with Pheromones please-” Oh no…

Aloha!

You are getting a lot of those notes, aren't you? 😁 Well, as it happens, I actually have an idea for a scenario like this, I'm telling you I gathered the wildest ideas in my fever dreams 😅

Crosshair x Fem!Reader One-shot -

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Warnings: 'Good old' Pollen Trope/ Smut/ 18+/ Bondage/ Dubious Consent/PiV Sex/ Dirty Talk/ Strong Language/ Oral/ Feral Crosshair/ Graphic Description Of Sexual Actions/Overstimulating

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Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

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AC: I feel like I've not written anything like this in years. Which of course isn't true, but it still feels like it. But I think I like what came out of this.

Crosshair keeps sneezing as you make your way back from your little expedition. The rest of the group is on an errand with Rex and his shuttle. You and Crosshair have stayed behind. Curiosity has driven you into the surrounding landscape of the Marauders' landing site. Even though Crosshair has no interest in the surrounding flora and fauna, he reluctantly came along, saying, "I guess I can't let you go off on your own. If anything happens to you, I will never hear the end of it when the others come back" You take off your gear when you get back, at least the things you don't need at the moment, as he sneezes again. Crosshair sighs and rubs his temples. You frown critically and say, "You should have used an air filter, like me" "Nonsense," he grumbles. "Well, I don't have to sneeze," you reply, shrugging your shoulders. He rolls his eyes and waves you off. "Just some pollen, nothing more, it'll be over in a minute" You pick up your data pad and say, "Some pollen can be dangerous, Cross"

When you call him by the pet name you're the only one to use, he rolls his eyes again, but he doesn't complain. He doesn't want to admit it, but somehow he likes that you've given him a nickname. It shows that you like him, and he likes the idea, but he won't admit that either. You browse through some information about the planet, especially the fauna, and suddenly stop. Something you've discovered makes you nervous. "See," he says contentedly, "it's stopped already, I don't have to sneeze anymore, it's all half as bad" When you don't answer, he turns back to you after taking off his armor. "Since when are you so quiet?" Again, you don't answer, you're engrossed in the information about a particular plant you've found. "Hey, Kitten," he says impatiently, "are you even listening to me?" You look up and ask him critically, "Why did you take off your armor? It's the middle of the day" Crosshair shrugs and says, "It's warm in here, and it's more comfortable without it" You say critically, "I don't think it's warm in here" He grumbles, "Well, I do"

"Any other symptoms?" you ask, a little alarmed. Crosshair reaches for your holopad, takes it from your hand, and skims the article you've just read. Depending on the amount of pollen inhaled...Heat flushes, sneezing, headache, followed by extremely increased libido, sexual desire bordering on animalistic proportions, loss of control... High probability of becoming a danger to yourself and those around you. If left untreated, the condition ends in extremely high fever, which can lead to brain damage or even death. No medical treatment options. Only treatment option is sexual relief (sexual intercourse/sexual acts that lead to repeated orgasms) "What the hell are you reading? Is that a guide to one of those dirty little stories you sometimes write?" Startled, you stare at him. "What?" Crosshair smirks, shrugging his shoulders in a suggestive manner. "Well, you fell asleep writing the other day and your pad was still on, just lying there. I took a quick look over it. It was pretty clear quickly what you were writing" You feel hot and cold, you're not sure exactly how much he's read, and you wonder if he realizes that you're imagining him as you write. But another thought outweighs your shame, your worry.

You scroll back up a bit on the pad that's still in his hands, point to the picture of a flower and say, "No, that's an article about this plant. We walked through a field of these flowers earlier while you weren't using an air filter. You're already showing symptoms" Crosshair blinks, skims the text again. "Oh," he says quietly. He tosses the holopad onto your bunk, rubs his temples again and looks around. He can feel it now, slowly at first, gradually but steadily increasing. His body temperature is getting higher, his thoughts are getting mixed up, there is a penetrating buzzing behind his temples, and there is clearly a very physical desire. "I need you to cuff me, for your safety. Where are my handcuffs?" Crosshair hears a click, then feels cold metal. You've cuffed his own wrist and chained him to the weapon rack. "I'm ahead of you," you say softly. "Clever girl. But that won't be enough. You have to tie me up properly"

„Properly?“, you ask, frowning.

Crosshair nods and says, "Yeah, I can open handcuffs without a key if I have one hand free" You mumble with a grin, "Sneaky bastard" "Shut up, kitten," he says calmly, with a little smirk, pointing to the other bunks, "Better find something to tie me up before the symptoms get worse" Unsure, you go to the drawers and side compartments of the other bunks. You find some more handcuffs and chain his other wrist to the weapon rack on the wall. Crosshair groans softly, a bulge has already formed in his Black's pants. He is far too warm in his skin and his cock is as hard as a diamond.

For a second you just look at him, his slender, wiry but stealed figure chained to the weapons rack at the wall. His shoulders down to his hips forming an apetizing V-line. "Okay, so far so good," he says tensely, "But that's not enough" You frown, but finally get two more cable ties and tie his legs to the frame on the wall. Crosshair stands there, as if nailed to a cross or pilloried, except that it is a weapon rack that is firmly anchored to the wall. "Fuck," he moans softly. Automatically, he writhes in his restraints, his clothes, the pants of his Blacks rubbing over his hard cock, eliciting another soft moan. He is extremely sensitive at the moment.

"But what now?" you ask anxiously, straining not to look down between his legs. "I can't hurt anyone now," Crosshair says and swallows. He means you, he can't hurt you now, he can't do anything against your will, you realize. "But... We have to do something, you could die or suffer permanent damage from this condition," you say nervously. You can see that he can barely think straight, that he would love to tear himself away if he could. But he smiles at you and says, "You're not worried about me, are you?" "Of course I'm worried", you say, almost indignant he might question this. He licks his lips, his mind a jumble of images of nudity, physical contact, of him sinking his cock inside you, in pretty much any of your holes that would do. Crosshair blinks a few times, trying to collect himself. "Well, you can help me now, but on your terms. I can't force you to do anything, that was important to me. Hence, the shackles. It was clear to both of us long ago that I still need your help now. Unless you want me to die, or my mind to turn in to a vegetable" Heat rises in your cheeks. You've imagined being with him so many times, but not like this.

He laughs softly as a drop of sweat rolls off his forehead. "Now you can live out some of the fantasies you love to write about. Honestly, I always knew you had a naughty spirit in you" The thought, the question of how much he has really read of your stories and perhaps even diary entries that are on the same data pad, comes to mind. You swallow and look at him, chained there. Your gaze does wander down to the enormous bulge in his blacks. You hear him purr, "Okay kitten, your attention is already going in the right direction" He strains against his restraints, automatically wanting to reach for you, but to no avail. A small frustrated growl comes out of his throat as he realizes once again that he is not able to touch you right now. No matter what you do now, no matter what you're both about to do, this isn't going to be romantic, nothing loving, that much you both realize. But contrary to your expectations, the thought doesn't repel you, actually, there's something appealingly wicked about it. As you sink to your knees in front of him, a shiver runs through his body in aroused anticipation. He can barely move, only his pelvis has a little room to move forward, and he stretches out towards you in invitation. "Be a good girl, help me"

You look up at him uncertainly, in his gaze you not only find confirmation of what you are about to do, it is a feverishly hot gaze, full of expectation and challenge with which Crosshair looks down at you. You reach for the waistband of his Blacks' pants and slowly pull them down. As the fabric brushes over his skin, over his hard cock as you free it, he trembles excitedly. It stands right in front of your face, thick, veiny, with a slightly reddened, swollen tip. His testicles are bulging. His cock twitches with every breath you take, because he can feel every waft of air. "Do it," he demands in a smoky voice, his eyes glazed over with desire, "suck me good" You wonder how he would talk to you at a moment like this if he wasn't under the influence of the pollen, but only for a second. You've always been curious about a sexual encounter with Crosshair, and his cock looks gorgeous. Your hand reaches for it automatically, and you're almost shocked at how red-hot it feels. His temperature is rising, no time to hesitate. Your tongue twitches over his velvety, swollen tip, catching a salty drop of pre-cum. "Fuck," Crosshair growls, his pelvis twitching, "come on, kitten, it's getting unbearably hot under my skin"

You don't think about it for long. Your lips open, your tongue outstretched, pressed against the underside of his cock, you take him into your mouth. Your head moves back and forth, bobbing back and forth with his cock between your lips. At first, you're so far back that, despite his relative freedom of movement with his pelvis, he has no control over how deep he penetrates your mouth. But it feels surprisingly wonderful, the sounds he makes, moaning, growling, whimpering. You can feel your panties getting wet and a tingling sensation between your thighs. Your pearl swells, pulsating gently at first, but demanding, longing to be touched, stimulated. On impulse, you move closer, giving him more room to move. As soon as he realizes that he can penetrate deeper on his own, he greedily pushes his cock deeper into your mouth, down your throat, almost to the hilt. Your eyes immediately start to water, but you don't pull back, you let him have his way with your mouth. He pulls his pelvis back and forth, thrusting deep again and again until your face is wet with tears and saliva drips from your chin because you can't swallow everything around his thick cock. Crosshair stares down at you, his gaze full of fire, glassy and dark.

He gasps excitedly, "I knew there was a dirty thing somewhere inside you, look at you eagerly sucking my cock. I wish I could record this, so I could watch it over and over again, how perfect this image looks" You don't have the time or the opportunity to object, nor do you want to. Your hand automatically slips into your pants and under the fabric of your panties. You can feel the heat emanating from your pubic area on your fingertips even before you touch your clit. There it is, finally, the touch, a shiver runs through your body. The touch your pearl has been longing for. Your fingertips glide over the sensitive bundle of nerves, faster and faster, as Crosshair's cock pushes up to the gag reflex again and again. You keep sucking at him, almost hungrily, like there is no tomorrow. Crosshair fucks your mouth restlessly, his pelvis shaking with every thrust, his arms tugging at the handcuffs again and again. Then he sees your hand in your pants, something about the sight pulls him over the edge, with a low growl, he spurts his load down your throat. You swallow hastily as he leaves your mouth and take a deep breath.

"A good little dirty thing you are. Look at you, not only did you suck my cock like an addict, you touched yourself" His gaze is still glassy, feverish, full of heat, a dangerous, knowing grin on his face. "Untie me, kitten, and I'll give you what your little pussy needs," he coos. His words roll over your skin and down into your pussy, where they trigger a pulsing, demanding twitch. Contrary to any fear or uncertainty about his condition, you cut the cable ties on his ankles. Then you grab the key for the handcuffs, you hesitate only briefly, barely noticeably, but then you unlock the handcuffs. You don't even have time to be surprised. Crosshair immediately peels you out of your clothes, partially tearing them as he loses his patience. He pushes you towards the bunk in front of you until you automatically climb onto it on all fours to avoid falling over. "That's it, keep sticking your gorgeous ass up, show me your little pussy," he growls in a smoky voice.

With the flat of his hand, he gives you a gentle pat between your legs. "There it is," he coos contentedly, "soft, warm and wet" One of his fingers slides along your velvety folds to your heated opening and sinks greedily inside. You moan as he sinks a second finger between your slick walls. "You're hungry for my cock, aren't you?" You moan a yes as you thrust your buttocks towards him. All you hear from him in response is a growl. You feel him pull his fingers from you and as you look over your shoulder, you see him licking your juices from his knuckles. "Actually, I'd love to lick your little honey pot, but I just can't wait, I can't," Crosshair says a little breathlessly as he parts your wet folds with his tip and with a smooth thrust fills your pussy to the brim with his cock. The sensation is intense, his hard, thick length filling you up, stretching your wet hole.

His fingers claw into your hips, not exactly gently, as he begins to move, pulling his pelvis back only to thrust into you again. He moans and curses, the feel of your wet heat enveloping him so incredibly intense, his cock so incredibly, unusually sensitive. His grip, his nails, are sure to leave a mark, but you're far too horny to mind. His thrusts are short, he never pulls far out of you, but he thrusts into you quickly, panting, clutching at you. His pelvis slaps your backside again and again, the sound fills the room, accompanied by moans, growls, whimpers. Crosshair doesn't feel like his temperature is dropping, he's more in control than he expected, but his hunger hasn't abated one bit. He growls, gives you a slap on the ass and murmurs, "You like that, you've always wanted my cock inside you" You are so lost in your excitement that at first you don't even realize what he is saying. When you don't answer immediately, he grabs your neck and pulls you towards him so that the back of your head is against his shoulder.

"Say it!" he growls, his hand still on your neck. Crosshair doesn't really squeeze, just applies enough pressure to make it clear that he wants your attention. "What?" you ask hoarsely, the feeling of his cock thrusting into you again and again taking over your entire mind. "You've always wanted my cock inside you. Say it! I want to hear it," he moans urgently. You gasp. "Fuck. Yes, I've always wanted your cock inside me, deep inside me," you croak, moaning. You yelp as he gives you a particularly hard, deep thrust and pauses in this position for a few seconds. His thighs tremble for a moment, a half-suppressed moan comes from his throat, then you feel his semen shoot into you. You're both breathing heavily, Crosshair growls softly. "Still feverish, still hard, I guess I'll have to make your wet dreams come true a little longer"

He pushes you off him, onto the bunk you're kneeling on, and turns you around, gripping your hips. Crosshair grabs the back of your knees to hold your legs up and apart. The next second, he's thrusting his cock into you again, accompanied by the dirty, wet sound his hard length makes in your pussy filled with your juices and his seed. Each thrust makes that lewd, wet sound, you feel his seed and your juices partially dripping out of you, onto your buns and onto the sheet beneath you. After all, you're in your own bunk. But this fact startles you all the more as Crosshair reaches purposefully to his right and pulls open a small drawer. He pulls out a small object and grins with satisfaction. "I knew you had toys here, I heard them vibrating under your blanket the other night" He moves his cock slowly inside you as he looks at the toy, and the heat of shame rises in your face. "What exactly does that thing do?" he wants to know, his gaze fascinated but still feverish, glassy. You swallow and say meekly, "It sucks the clitoris into this little opening and vibrates as it does so"

He raises his eyebrows and looks past the toy at you. "Is that good?" "My favorite toy," you say, still meekly. He looks down, positions the toy so that it can suck your clit perfectly and turns it on, turning the power up quite high. The toy sucks in your clit and vibrates on the sensitive bundle of nerves, immediately sending a pulse through your whole body. You let out a startled squeak. In combination with his thick cock inside you, the additional stimulation from the toy is very intense. Your hands claw into the mattress and sheets as he starts to thrust into you again. "Fuuuuck," you moan out. Crosshair takes you again faster, harder and growls, "That's more like it"

Your mind dissolves into nothing, the thought of how he sees you right now, that he knows about the toy, that he knows you've been secretly masturbating here under the covers, all swept away in one swoop. The stimulation is too intense, your whole body vibrates, trembles, tenses with arousal. "You're close," he moans, realizing, "I can feel your sweet pussy contracting" The stimulation, his words, the sound of his voice, all at once your climax washes you over the edge, and you fall into a pulsating tangle of over-stimulation. Automatically, you want to reach for the toy to remove it, but Crosshair's hands shoot forward, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head. "Fuck! Crosshair, that's too much, the toy!" you gasp breathlessly, twitching and writhing, the sensation far too intense.

He pushes himself deeper into your lap, takes you faster, with shorter, firmer thrusts. He stares at you, something about the way you squirm and twitch, the thought that you are helplessly at the mercy of this over-stimulation turns him on. It doesn't take long, his thrusts become irregular, his lap trembles between your twitching thighs, and he cums inside you again. You're still whimpering and squirming, finally he lets go of you, and before you can remove it, Crosshair releases you from the toy. You breathe heavily, sighing with relief. You look up, his gaze no longer glassy and feverish, more scrutinizing, brooding, as you know him to be. "Sorry," he says, shrugging his shoulders, "but it was incredibly hot to have you under me while you were twitching under the over-stimulation, one hell of a turn on." You roll your eyes and sigh, "I'm glad you enjoyed it" "You had your fun too, didn't you?" he growls sarcastically, "Or did you just get me untied to see what would happen?"

You can almost feel an argument brewing, but you don't want to argue, especially not now. You try to distract him. "How are you feeling now? Headache, fever?" Crosshair senses that you're trying to avoid the discussion, but he answers you anyway, "I'm fine, I think, no fever, no headache, no other symptoms either." You nod, climb out of the bunk and say, "Good, I need to use the refresher for a while, I need to clean myself up" But Crosshair blocks your path to the refresher. You hastily grab your bathrobe and put it on as you realize you're both still naked. "You haven't answered me yet," he says stubbornly. "What?" "Whether you had fun"

You clear your throat and say, "I had an orgasm, if that's what you mean" Crosshair frowns. "No, that's not what I meant, at least not exclusively." You lick your lips and avoid his gaze, but he gently but firmly grabs your chin, yet your eyes continue to avoid his. "Kitten? Look at me." His voice sounds so unusually gentle that you automatically look at him. "I just want to be sure that I didn't overstep any boundaries and that you didn't come away unsatisfied, as you know I didn't really have complete control over what happened." You look at him wide-eyed, then feel heat rising in your cheeks as you say meekly, "I had more fun than I want to admit"

A smile creeps onto his face. "I knew that. Good girl. Come on now, let us go wash you" You raise your eyebrows questioningly. "Us?" Crosshair grabs your hand and pulls you into the refresher with him. He winks at you, "We made the mess together, so let's remove it together. Come on, don't act like you don't want to be sponge-washed by me"

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[kniveswrites]

how sweet — chapter one.

“the family friend.”

series m.list ♡ next part

wc 2424

notes ive had this entire series in my drafts for a while now but i finally got the motivation to post it! very excited that its finally out there, i cant wait to keep writing for this series i have very cutesie ideas for it :3 hope u all enjoy likes and reblogs r very much appreciated xx

“w-what..?” you’re speechless, eyes trained on the piece of paper laid out on the dinner table in front of you while your father stood at the opposite end of the table, allowing you to process everything.

he’s filled with regret, but you’re not in the position to care when a plethora of worries just flooded your brain, gears immediately turning. you can’t find yourself to speak, really, unsure of what to even say in this predicament.

you, a 16 year old girl, has just been told that your father is due to leave for the docks tomorrow in order to pay off his debt of a whopping 10 million yen. it’s not as much as you’d think it’d be, but it’s still more than enough to send your father away into some sketchy program and leave you to yourself.

to make matters worse, you can’t even stay in the comfort of your own home as your father is simply too broke and too busy paying off his debt to keep up with the house’s finances. was he aware of this debt? if he was, why did he wait so long to tell you? did he arrange a place for you to stay?

you have so many questions but you’re still frozen, too shocked to say anything.

“i would have told you sooner—”

“so why didn’t you?”

...the silence was deafening.

“i’m sorry,” you scoff in response, shocked that he could just.. do this to you. of all people.

“do i have a place to stay?” you honestly just want the conversation to finish up, unable to withstand another second of being in the same room as him.

“i’ll figure that out, okay? i promise.” your father is frantic, panic bubbling in his gut, and as much as you want to yell at him, you stop yourself. it’s almost 10 pm, your neighbors are probably sleeping, and as your last night in this house, you want to keep it peaceful.

not just for you, or your father, but for your mother.

“you leave tomorrow.” you try your best to keep your tone calm. your father sighs, nodding.

“i know,” he says. “but, i promise. i’ll figure it out.”

“you’ll be staying with a family friend.” your father is leaving his room, kind of scaring you with his sudden appearance. you prepared breakfast for the both of you, and despite still being mad at him, this is the last you’ll see of each other for a few months.

“who?” you choose to express your anger through your tone and words, letting him know that even if you act indifferent, you don’t sound happy.

“the nagis,” your father says, mentioning them as if they’ve been brought up multiple times before. “your... your mother used to be best friends with the wife, while i was college roommates with the husband. you’re the same age as their son. they’re quite nice,”

you hum in acknowledgement, not particularly amused with this conversation. your father notices your emotional absence, sighing to himself but chooses not to point it out. he understands your anger towards him, he finds it justified.

“i’ll be leaving soon.” your father says. “you’ve packed, right? i have your train ticket in my room. they live in kanagawa.”

kanagawa, a whole hour and a half from your normal life. you nod again, not finding the energy in you to use your mouth to communicate. you’re so upset, you want to cry. there’s just no way this is happening.

“do you know when you’ll be back?” your father doesn’t answer immediately, but from the look on his face, you already know the answer to your question.

this should be the house, you think to yourself as you stop in front of a moderately sized home. the exterior is a dark wood color, two stories standing tall among the neighborhood to cover the blazing sun.

you approach the front door, giving yourself a few seconds to mentally prepare before bringing your fist to the door, giving it a few good knocks.

the door opens to reveal a white haired middle aged woman, the age showing in the features of her face, yet she somehow still has the glow of a twenty year old.

a smile on her face appears as she scans your face, recognition filling her features as excitement bubbles in her chest. “oh my gosh, how you look so much like her.” she says fondly, the bright smile on her face doing justice in easing your nerves. you assume this is the wife, the best friend of your mother.

“thank you for letting me stay,” you respond to her with a smile, to which she waves you off like it was nothing. the woman radiates in happiness, which you can’t help but reciprocate.

“please,” she backs up, giving you space to enter the house. “come in.” she says, helping you with a few of your luggage and following you inside her home. the second you’re in, you’re hit with the aroma of a mother’s cooking, one you haven’t smelt in a long time.

“smells great,” you comment, and she mumbles a thank you before exhaling.

“seishiro get down here!” she screams for someone, and you hear thudding above you. that’s probably the son that’s my age, you think to yourself as you hear the footsteps approach the stairs and walk down, revealing the boy owning the name.

when he comes to your full view, it was then you realize that you have met the nagi family before. at your mother’s funeral, you were 7. your face fresh with tears, the family slowly approached you with a sad look on their face. the family, besides nagi. he didn’t seem to care, and honestly you couldn’t have expected him to.

he didn’t know your mom, she’s basically a random lady to him. he was forced to be there, and at yours and his age, going to an event you don’t care about could be the worst thing to happen to you that day.

but despite that, despite his deadpan expression, he was the only one to say something that actually made you feel better.

“you’re a snotty crier,” his remark earned a little annoyed pinch on his arm from his mother which he responded to with an ouch!, but nonetheless you giggled. he didn’t seem to care for your reaction, but he reached in his pocket to give you something. he opened his fist to reveal caramel candy. you took it and ripped the wrapper to pop the candy in your mouth.

the sweetness that filled your mouth was an amazing contrast to the bitter mood of the funeral, and it made you feel better. you smiled at nagi, giving him the candy wrapper.

he was surprised at that, but took the wrapper and put it in his pocket anyway. “thank you,” you told him and he subtly nodded before walking away. his parents followed suit after speaking to you, but you didn’t care enough to remember what they had to say.

that day, when you were back in your room, you couldn’t stop thinking about nagi. you didn’t know his name at the time, but he was someone you couldn’t forget. of course, until your later years came and you aged, eventually forgetting about the boy whose name you didn’t know.

“this is the guest bedroom, but it’ll be your room.” nagi’s voice snaps you out of your memory. that same boy whose name you didn’t know is now in front of you, as if fate pulled the two of you back together. you start to think you’re being silly, realizing that you’re being a little delusional and decided to just cut those thoughts off. at least, for now.

“thank you,” you find yourself speechless in front of nagi, struggling to find the right words to say. you become self-conscious of yourself, nitpicking your vocabulary and making sure that you’re standing a certain way—the proper way.

god, what is he doing to you? this is so stupid.

you fix yourself back to a more comfortable standing position, further degrading yourself in your own head with how stupid you’re being over someone you don’t even know.

“mom says you can decorate it however you like. we don’t get visitors anyway.” he says, putting down the last of your stuff on the floor. “do you need help?” he asks, looking down at your collection of belongings.

you can tell that he doesn’t really want to be here, so you shake your head and smile at him. “i’ll be alright,” he doesn’t believe you but leaves anyway, closing the door behind him to give you some privacy.

although nagi’s presence made you feel ecstatic as you recalled the time you met him at your mother’s funeral, the loneliness that you’re left with in the room dawns on you, and you fall to the bed and break into sobs.

“a girl is living with you now?” reo’s voice comes through the headphones comfortably fit on nagi’s head. nagi responds with a flat yeah, his attention mostly focused on his computer screen. “what does that—wait, he’s low behind you—what does that mean?” reo, in the middle of helping nagi kill the enemy, is confused at nagi’s nonchalance towards such an odd situation.

reo starts screaming at nagi for his negligence in answering his question, but nagi seems too focused on winning the game that whatever reo is saying is just going in one ear and out the other.

isagi, who’s also in the call and playing the game with them, chimes in with a chuckle. “you don’t remember like a week ago when he mentioned it to us?” reo responds with a quiet mumble of a no, to which nagi simply scoffs at, angering reo even more realizing that nagi has been purposefully ignoring him this whole time.

“yeah, it’s some family friend’s daughter or whatever. i don’t know, i forgot.” isagi continued before cutting himself off with a scream when he suddenly dies in the game. nagi is silent as the game finishes, the word VICTORY blaring on his screen before switching to the mvp screen, showing his four kill play on the enemy team.

“look at this show off,” reo grumbles as he’s forced to keep watching the clip of nagi’s play, to which nagi ignores before exiting the game. “you’re getting off, nagi?” reo asks when he notices that nagi left the lobby.

“yeah, i gotta help her unpack.” nagi says, and reo gets confused again.

“wait, what?” he asks. “i thought you said she didn’t want help?”

“she has a bunch of shit, reo, i know she’s lying.” nagi says, getting up. he reaches over to his mouse, hovering over the deafen button. “i’m deafening, i’ll be back later if you guys are still here,” he says, clicking the button without wasting a second and hearing what reo has to say.

nagi approaches the closed door of your room, wondering why it seems so quiet in there. it’s only been an hour since he left you to unpack, and from what he remembers, you simply have too much stuff to be done unpacking if not all, then most of it in an hour or less.

he softly knocks on the door, waiting patiently for you to give him some sort of sign that you’re breathing and alive. a minute passes and you don’t. nagi isn’t worried, but he is curious as to why you’re not responding. you could be asleep, but the two of you have school tomorrow. surely, you’d want to unpack most of your stuff before then.

he knocks one more time, but this time he only waits 30 seconds before reaching over to open the door. “i’m coming in,” he announces and slowly opens the door. he notices that the lights are on, your luggage and boxes still on the floor and you, in bed.

you’re startled by his presence, too busy drowning in your tears and sadness to have heard his knocks and him announcing himself earlier. you get up from your side, wiping away your tears. you’re embarrassed that he saw you cry, but nagi’s expression doesn’t seem to falter at the sight of your tears.

“do you want to go on a walk with me?” he doesn’t address the fact that you’re crying, carrying the conversation as if your face isn’t drenched in tears.

despite the void of sadness that’s consuming you, you say yes.

the silence between you and nagi as you walk through the park isn’t suffocating or awkward, rather it’s calming and comforting. it’s accompanied with the sounds of crickets in the background with the light from the moon bright as ever and the stars glittering the sky like a decked out project board.

you start to think about how nagi has seen you cry twice now, first when you were younger, and now when you’re older. with this, you then realize that nagi probably doesn't remember you. this fact saddens you a bit, but it helps bring you back down to earth. you’ve made up this whole story in your head because of it, and this fact humbles you in the way it should.

you’re already thinking about a lot, delusions aren’t the answers to your problems, as sad as that is. nagi stops in his tracks, taking you out of dreamland and back into reality.

“i always sit here when i want to just think. it’s nice,” he gestures towards a spot beneath the large tree you’re both under that’s looking over the entire park, which makes you realize that you’re on elevated ground, the said tree being on top of a hill.

wow, this park is quite large.

“this is very nice,” you sit down and lean against the tree trunk, sighing contently at the cold air of the wind hitting you. nagi sits down beside you, also leaning against the tree trunk. he closes his eyes and relaxes, basking in the feeling. “thank you for showing me this spot, nagi.” you say to him, looking at the moon with admiration on your face.

the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?

“i see you’re still a snotty crier,” he says out of nowhere, and your eyes widen, turning to him. he doesn’t open his eyes, and you look away in embarrassment. only then, a small smirk appears on his face while you’re left grumbling to yourself about his teasing, unaware of the amusement adorned on his face.

always has been.

kniveswrites © 2024. do not modify or repost.

[bekolxeram]

I always roll my eyes when I see people be like "well tommy HAD to have been flying the plane" cause like. all you were doing is talking about reality vs the show like why r people so pressed about that. like I'm an emt and I do that all the time cause I think it's fun to talk about the realities of ems care vs tvs depiction of it. I'm not saying the show is bad or whatever i just like talking about emergency medicine and how tv gets it wrong alot. anyways I appreciate u talking all about aviation its really interesting and I hope ur not too disheartened by people being weird cause I love reading ur posts about it <3

Hypothetically, the show decides to film an emergency where a huge chunk of an airliner's roof tears off. The whole plane is basically hanging by a thread, one engine fails and the landing gears are not secure, but somehow the pilots manage to make a successful landing. What is it? An open top plane instead of a bus? The writers are running out of ideas.

Or what if it's an Airbus with a faulty auto-throttle that needs constant monitoring by the flight crew. When the captain is holding onto the throttle, he just happens to have a heart attack and lets go, now the plane is banking to one side because the malfunctioning auto-throttle has rolled back one of the engine. Oh wait, the first officer is more used to flying Soviet planes and their altitude indicator has a completely opposite mechanism comparing to the western one. (Western ADI shows you the horizon, Soviet ADI turns with the plane) So the first officer turns the wrong way and crashes the plane. Wow, really? A Final Destination parody?

Or maybe a FedEx employee tries to commit insurance fraud by hijacking a cargo plane, killing the pilots with a hammer and a spear gun then crashing it to hide the evidence. The first officer, suffering from brain injury due to the attack, decides to fly the DC-10 like a fighter jet to help his equally injured colleagues subdue the hijacker. He first makes a sudden steep climb, then a sharp roll to the left until the plane is flying upside down, and finally dives so quickly it's approaching the speed of sound. Somehow they manages to land safely and the attacker is arrested. Did the writers get the wrong memo and wrote an action movie instead of a plane emergency?

Except I didn't write all these to mock the show, these are actually Aloha Airlines Flight 243, TAROM Flight 371 and FedEx Flight 705. (The FedEx DC-10 was later repaired and it flew until December 31, 2022. Amazing.) Sometimes real life is stranger than fiction, and it is fun to talk about, I think you understand exactly what I mean. We all get to learn what works, what doesn't, and what is surprisingly realer than we thought.

Even the shark on freeway call people keep bringing up to prove how crazy, how unrealistic the show is, well, there is a place called Florida, and everything that can happen has happened there.

This shark didn't bite anyone though, it didn't survive the crash. :/

I actually started writing about real life pilot training and how hard it is to fly a helicopter because of the discourse going around back then claiming Tommy didn't deserve a medal because he did nothing. "It's not real, it's a TV show where anyone can do anything, anyone can drive that helicopter lol." I wrote about the difference between helicopter pilots and fixed wing pilots because I found the contrast between them interesting, and Tommy's characterization is aptly appropriate for someone who flies helicopters professionally. I even worked that into a little headcanon of my own, about Tommy dating an airplane pilot in the past and the difference in lifestyle and attitude that broke them up. I've never forced anyone to accept my explanation as absolute fact, it's always about my interpretation of Tommy's character. People can ignore top/bottom debates, D/s discourse, KINKTOMATO, right? Yet I say Tommy doesn't fly a 4 engine air tanker (but he's still super badass as a helicopter pilot, I wrote a 3 part series just about how dangerous and difficult the cruise ship rescue mission in 7x03 is), people just feel the need to tell me I'm wrong, to express their displease of me obsessing over tiny details, or simply "shut the hell up". Adding a disclaimer and creating a whole tag for people to block wasn't even enough. It's just... discouraging.

I don't know, I just hope the show never goes full Fire Country (2022-). It misrepresents real life firefighting so bad that CAL FIRE chief publicly condemned the show. The president of CAL FIRE's union even made an unsuccessful attempt to sue the show and later released a statement basically saying "we can't force them to do anything, but know that we have nothing to do with the show." I just think real firefighters spending the whole afternoon talking to the news about how dangerous and impractical it is to dump bunch of water over a crowded urban area, then immediately after that 911!LAFD, a fire department for the city not the surrounding woodland, showed up with the exact air tanker Trump suggested, that would be kinda... goofy. I've seen a retired firefighter praising the later seasons of 9-1-1 for striking a good balance between dramatization and authenticity. I hope they keep it that way.

[aces-and-angels]

what's their style like?

Between Enid and Cameron, who's the most impulsive character, and who is their impulse control?

Do they believe in the supernatural?

Do they have a good relationship with their family?

For both: What is their moral alignment?

(These were all taken from various ask prompts I found, I'm not creative)

hello hello friend- thanks for joining the r&d team 🖤adding another read more section bc we've got a lot to cover

---

what's cameron's style like?

to start- a video analysis by taylor cassidy:

"at its core, the earthy black girl is something extremely personal to each black person. it's not about how good you can tie a headwrap- it's the intention of educating yourself about your ancestors' values, falling back in love with beauty defined for black people by black people, and exploring spiritualities that come from seeking your own roots. so no- earthy black girl is not 'boho'. it's not 'tumblr indie'. it's not 'grunge'. it's freedom according to how each person defines it."

i like to view cam's style as her way of healing from past traumas. no matter how you slice it, in canon you meet cam (or whoever your mc is for crimes of passion) as someone who has gone through loss. someone who is still working through that loss. the how of it all is left to your ✨imagination✨

cam's parental situation is tba for me (i mean- i got the dad part lol, not a lot of detail about the mom yet- but whatever the reason is for their mother's absence, it happens early on and it impacts cam's life a lot)

i feel like cam's fashion evolves as she processes the hurt/anger stemming from her parents' passing + moving through the world in dark skin. so their transition into these more flowy, liberating fits is a cameron (healed)

the video shows a lot of different outfits cam would gravitate towards. i am also sharing this dress in particular bc it's stunning and i need to sear the image of them wearing this in my brain:

between enid and cameron, who's the most impulsive character, and who is their impulse control?

there is no one regulating these impulses bc enid and cam, when put together, just enable the crap out of each other sdkjf

the whole 'never say no' mentality between them can be both positive and negative. on one hand- they will never turn down the other's idea to go to ktown and buy whatever. on the other hand- it's difficult for them to recognize when they need to pump the breaks and do some self-reflecting

currently- the backstory on these two is that they are childhood friends and each other's sexual/romantic awakenings (if yall want more tea on that pls feel free to send some inquiries); anyways, their shared past makes them each other's safety net in a way-- comfortable to be around-- comfortable enough to fall into old habits/routines (which doesn't really bode well for one's personal growth esp. if one were to, let's say, rekindle this type of bond at a low point in their lives)

does cameron believe in the supernatural?

cam doesn't deny the possibility of its existence, but i wouldn't say they are a full-on believer

does cameron have a good relationship with their family?

out of the people she has left? yeah sure- them and uncle tommy are doing a-okay 💀

(for enid + cam): what is their moral alignment?

simply put- enid is a chaotic neutral whereas cam is a neutral-chaotic good

enid's law philosophy (out of the three pb provides) aligns with pure law not because she wants others to follow the letter of the law to a t, but bc of her desire to know every which way she can bend it in her favor

cam's motivations are more geared towards helping a collective rather than themself while staying true to her own beliefs (ex: her hatred for the nypd)

[cogmented]

hiiii i saw ur tags on my post!! i know nothing about breaking mc but i understand ur excitement completely!! i have no idea what they did but im so excited to find out!! this team is so cool they have cool abilities AND cool lore AND cool dynamics AND a cool aesthetic!! thwy make me INSANE. hope u dont mind me dropping this in ur ask box i just need to ramble about them somewhere

YOU R SO OKAY !!!! i loveeee what is going on rn

ermmm spoilers and wht not!

like WHAT !?!!? there is so much more of a crazy element to breaking da game than im used to, especially when used in the context of a pvp heavy turned lore (more so circumstance and event) based server like it ACTUALLY COMES INTO CONFLICT RAHH we r usually just a bunch of gamers sitting around in little test servers (i was more so an in-game code guy rather than an exploit guy, im basing all my inner technical knowledge on what my friends r thinking from the context ive shown them)

im SOOO interested in how the characters play out here, like with the tyrant groupchat and some of the key players in there (pangi, reddoons, planet, SPEPTICLE !?) and how THEY were the ones supposedly getting big power

i think planet knows a lot more about what's going on than what vitalasy thinks (i have a theory that planet's trust barrier was given by spoke, maybe it couldve been given by vitalasy to more so keep him quiet? but ive been brain rotting over a planet and spoke team up so im mad biased) and spoke is much more of a leaker than i thought! he is definitely one of the least secretive members about all dis and whatnot, but his ideals are geared towards fun fun for every1 (himself)

also vi is showing phase 2 rn this is going to be FUCKING INSANE ! im soo sosoooososososo exited omhgg kicking my legs laying on my stomach twirling my hair and drawing hearts and stars around the word exploit in glitter gel pen and giggling

this has been SUCH an interesting season im still stunned by stream viewers who say s3 was the best but maybe im a nerd whatavar whatavar ....

i am going to rant and you are going to listen to me >_( hahahahaha muahhahaha but s4 has been so new and interesting from the START. those two main groups forming at the village and the outpost and their outliers was the domino effect of extremes. im on red's side here when he said that that was the main catalyst for WHY duality duo went to the lengths they did, and how THAT, the moment subz stepped into the end to see the main island completely wiped was SUCH a crucial moment to the rest of s4 development

that was the known start. that's what, to everyone else, was the beginning of consequence

but now, there's the added factor of the plan before s4, but these extremes were needed to make a reason to use these exploits in an interesting way. yeah okay, leviathan is not a threat anymore. TO US THOUGH!!!! ONLY TO US!!! because we know everything, we know what's going on and leviathan has NO IDEA what they're in for, but what does terrain, leo, ANYONE ELSE think about them? Are they scared? probably !

but seeing this as a viewer.... a watcher haha of everything we KNOW a FRACTION of how much danger everyone is in. we dont know to WHAT EXTENT !!!!! HOLY MYSTERY !!!!! im so so so excited to see how they use this

we saw how jepex and mapic and spoke used it in jepex's latest video, but they have MORE INFORMATION SINCE THEN !!! AND INFORMATION THEY DIDNT REVEAL !!!! vitalasy is SO FUCKIGN AWESOME. SOOO COOL.

it has gotten so intertwined and complicated and layered i shouldve taken notes because im sure my memory has been warped and whatavar but WOW. RAHHHH. it's not JUST exploits. it's been zam's paranoia and terrain's frog plotline and anguish and medusa and the prison and and and no end and then no end^2 and all the teams and the betrayal and hate and the flowers and dandelions and the sun moon and stars and chaos and destruction and meaning and trust and love and care and and and

i go crazy on a friday evening i dont know i love lifesteal lots and lots

[firebrandthestubborn]

Asking the tcm2 cast their pronouns 😩

This is all for fun please don’t take most of this seriously plsplspls ok thanks mwah also these are hcs don’t kill me plsplsplspls

TW- none really but Drayton and Lefty being slightly transphobia/homophobic with out them realizing it.

Again these are all my personal headcannons okay love you mwah mwah mwah

Bubba Sawyer

“What are your pronouns”

*confused squealing*

As a victim:

You’ll have to explain what this is to him and it takes him a while to grasp the concept but all around you figure that he doesn’t care! Any pronouns are fine :) then you get chainsawed and eaten :)!!

As a friend/significant other:

Once again you’ll have to explain them to him but he pretty much says the same thing but this time you DONT get chainsawed and eaten :)!!! Bubba is very happy that you asked. Switching to she/her she/they pronouns when she busts out the pretty woman mask and she will get very happy :)

Chop Top Sawyer 😩😩

“What are your pronouns?”

As a victim:

“NONE, DONT R-R-REFER TO ME BITCH RARARA”

BOOM hammer to the head! Can’t change my mind that this is what he’ll say right before he bashes ur brains in with various large objects.

Or he would say Nor/mal as a joke then snarl at you

As a friend/significant other:

“What oh yea uhhh he/him they/them it/it’s”

He goes back to whatever he’s doing after you ask obviously not caring. But it caught him off guard yknow because no ones ever asked him that before… ‘am I supposed to ask you the same thing? Why did you care so muc- OH SHIT I HAVENT LISTENED TO THIS IN FOREVER.’ Yea he’s over it now, he forgot you asked.

Nubbins Sawyer

“So whatre your pronouns?”

As a Victim:

You ask him and he’ll just stare at you for a few seconds, he looks as if Dancing Queen is playing in repeat in his head and nothing else. After a few long seconds he sputters out incoherent nonsense about not caring what you have to say, Nubbins never answers your question.

As a friend/ Significant Other:

One again he just stares at you for a few second the rustle gears in his empty head turn while he try’s to process your question,

“OH HAH uhhhhhh he/him??? The male ones :D” he replies to you before going back to doing whatever the hell he was doing with that knife.. oh poor Nubbins he has no idea… but he’s trying his hardest I promise.

Drayton Sawyer

“What are your pronouns?”

As both a victim and a friend because I feel like he would answer the same either way.

“What? Uhm the male ones? I’m a guy obviously.”

He rolls his eyes and walks off not even bothering to listen to anything else you have to say. I don’t think Drayton is necessarily homophobic/transphobic but he is very much stuck in his old man way of thinking and is to stubborn to learn anything. But he would definitely respect your preferred pronouns and ur sexuality even if he makes jokes about it,,,

Lieutenant 'Lefty' Enright

“What are ur pronouns?”

As a friend/significant other

“Uhmm? Male ones I guess? I don’t know? Why?”

Just like Drayton Lefty is an older guy who lives in Texas.. he just doesn’t understand the question. At first he kind of offended you ask but he understands after you explain and then he gives you an actual answer.

“Uhm he/him/his? I guess?”

Lefty most definitely used to be Homophobic/transphobic before he met Stretch mostly due to how he was raised but now he definitely is not. Of course he needs some things explained to him and you and Stretch are always there to help! Just be slow with him he’s trying..

Vanita 'Stretch' Brock

“Can I ask your pronouns?”

As a friend/Significant Other

“Oh darlin’! Of course you can mine are she/her! What are yours?”

Oh my sweet Stretch she’s loves that you asked her and of course she’s gonna ask you! She has no judgment on your pronouns or anything about you so when you tell her she follows them as best as she can! She will even correct herself is need be. Someone fucks with you and is homophobic/transphobic towards you? She’ll fuck em up! You can count on stretch to be a safe person to go to.

L.G. McPeters

“Hey L.G. what are your pronouns?”

As a friend/Significant Other

Oh boy is L.G. excited, Stretch asked him this a while back and he needed a bit of help and she explained it to him. He’s excited that he can answer this without saying the wrong thing or you taking the wrong way. He looks at you proudly.

“He/Him They/Them!” He say wrapping an arm around you laughing, L.G is very proud of themself. You smile knowing that he’s happy. After you ask Them,They’ll ask you the same and L.G. is surprisingly very good at following pronouns they never mess up and switches to your new pronouns(if they were different from what you originally said) almost immediately.

[freezethebeez]

omg a follow up ask about catalyst!

firstly we were talking about blood types today in class which had my gears turning about like- which aspects in different types of blood effect the taste in catalyst because im a nerd. but it was neat! actually, did you have anything that you based the tastes off of? such as the protein present in positive blood or like how a and b blood have antibodies that ab and o blood doesn't have?

okay also catalyst ranboo is a big win for the intersex community 💪💪💪 massive win

also what kind of fashion/outfits do you think catalyst tubbo would wear if money wasn't a concern? idk i'm just thinking of outfits recently

okay and i have been thinking about catalyst vampires, and i really like the idea that they can make squeaks/chirps like a bat. just for the sake of the argument, and i think it would be based for catalyst ranboo to be able to make little chirps. purely a head cannon here but i think it would be interesting for that to be a remnant of when vampires used to be a little less humany, and could be involved in vampire specific communication.

anyways, i'll probably be back again soon 😭 the brain rot is real

1. blood type flavours?????

tbh as i was writing it i was thinking "haha funny fruits" and that stuck. sorry lol feel free to headcanon away for that one. it's all yours.

2. catalyst ranboo intersex community win so true

3. what kind of outfits would tubbo wear?

oooh we get to explore this soon (like ch 16 soon i think). im thinking lots of cozy sweaters and jeans maybe and also long skirts if he feels so inclined :)

4. catalyst vampire chirping and squeaking

that is so real. they got the little chirps and squeaks like bats and it's so cute. every time ranboo does a little chirp tubbo goes "aww :,)" and also beau does that sometimes too ^_^ vampires of all ages do the little chirps and squeaks they r so silly like that

[oakleaf--bearer]

@jonmartinweek day two - injury!

also on ao3

When dealing with matters of the heart, Jon was about the furthest from a natural that there could be. 

He was... rusty to say the least. Awkward was a generous way to put it. Completely and utterly useless was far more accurate. 

So when Georgie had laughed and asked when he and Martin had started dating, he had been understandably taken aback and politely asked her what she meant by that. ("Georgie, what the fuck?" had been his exact wording). She'd shrugged and patted his knee, telling him that he should probably talk to Martin as soon as he got back to the Institute. 

He stared down at the ring sat on the table, a frown creasing his forehead. It had been something of a whim purchase. He had bought it several years ago after reading about the concept online, and he'd just....not taken it off. Every time it left his hand, he'd itched to put it back on as soon as possible. 

And now, a blistering burn mark on his hand was stopping him from putting it back on. A small, mostly insignificant piece of his identity stripped back and taken away from him. 

A gentle knock at the door startled him out of his quiet contemplation. 

"Hello." Martin poked his head around the door. "Tea?"

"Thank you, Martin."

Martin smiled, and Jon remembered Georgie's assumption. Would he? It wasn't the most unimaginable thing in the world. Martin was friendly. Charming, comfortable, welcoming. But dating? Maybe... But Jon had done dating before. He'd explained what the ring in the table meant to enough people that he was tired. Tired of the assumptions, the questions, the idea that there was one person out there who would change his mind, all he needed was a good- 

Martin wasn't that person. When Jon ran through the mental 'relationship checklist', he could imagine so many different aspects with Martin. Holding hands, going on dates, even waking up next to each other, but that particular facet of a relationship was completely unimaginable. It wasn't that Martin was unattractive, simply that Jon just didn't see the attractiveness like that. 

"What's that?" Martin gestured to the ring. 

"Oh, uh, nothing." Jon covered it with his good hand. "Just a- nothing."

"Riiight." Martin placed the tea on his desk, in easy reach. "Keep your secrets then."

"Hmm." Jon hummed, still examining Martin's face. 

"Jon? You alright?" 

"Oh!" Jon realised he was staring and quickly looked away. "Sorry." 

"It's okay." Martin said with an audible smile that made Jon's heart do something ridiculous. 

"Martin..." Jon didn't really know what he was going to say. "Are you- I- Hmm." 

"Take your time."

"Have lunch with me. That is, if you want to, please don't feel like I'm pressuring you, you can say no if you-"

"Jon." Martin put a hand on his desk, gentle, a calming reminder of a calming man. "I'd love to." 

Jon stared at the hand. It was larger than his own. When he'd arrived back in the archives, trailing blood and exhaustion behind him, Martin had sat and re-wrapped the clumsy bandages he had put on it, patiently telling him off for not going to a doctor and getting it checked. Jon hadn't been able to look away from his hands then either, just gazing at them with sleepy eyes, his mind fixed on the image of Martin taking care of him. Carefully picking up the pieces he had left flung about the place and putting them back together, gently slotting them back into place.

Martin took him to a sandwich place around the corner from the institute. Jon stared at the menu, trying to decipher the swirling font. The letters swam slightly as he read them, the words jumbling together. 

“Jon?” Martin bumped their shoulders together lightly, bending down to Jon's height to compensate for the difference. “What are you going to order?”

 “I-  What do you recommend?” 

Martin smiled. “Hmm. How about the tuna and sweetcorn? It’s a classic, you know?”

“Sure.” 

Martin ordered for them and nudged Jon towards a table in the corner. Jon went willingly, content to listen to Martin chatter away about the wait times and the various bouts of  people-watching he had gotten up to in this cafe. Despite Jon’s lack of contributions, Martin seemed to be fine carrying the conversation on his own. A couple of people gave them odd glances, no doubt wondering what Martin, kind, gentle-looking Martin, was doing with a grumpy sack of exhaustion. Externally, they didn't match. They were diametrically opposed, two entities that shouldn't exist in the same space without causing some kind of epoch changing event. 

But the more Jon pondered it, the more he realised that he wanted to be here, sat opposite Martin, listening to him talk, letting him order his sandwiches and hold his hand-

Jon’s brain skipped a beat. 

Martin had placed his hand over Jon’s where it rested on the table and was staring at him, concern across his face. “Jon? You okay?”

‘I care about him’, Jon realised with a start. ‘This is my friend.’

Martin nudged his hand around so that he could properly take it in his own. The motion dislodged the ring that Jon still held clutched in his bandaged fingers. It clattered out, its black outline stark against the faded beige of the tabletop. 

“Oh, sorry.” Martin picked it up to hand it back to Jon. “You might want to be a bit more careful. You don't want to lose this.”

“What?” Jon stared down at Martin’s hand. It felt ridiculous to see Martin holding out his ring and for Jon to feel this weightless. The gentle curl of Martin’s fingers around the band set Jon’s mind whirling down avenues lined with graffiti reading ‘Just tell him’ and ‘Maybe it will go well’. 

Jon took a deep breath and took the plunge. 

“I’m sorry, Martin.”

Martin blinked. “R-right? What for?”

“All of it.” Jon reached out and covered Martin’s, still holding Jon’s ace ring up in front of them. “You were always- I’m glad you're here. With me.” He carefully took the ring and let go of Martin’s hand. It looked shockingly sad sitting in the palm of Jon’s bandaged hand. Another piece of who he was now associated with pain. An uncomfortably familiar reality that Jon was steadily becoming used to. 

Martin reached across the table and gave Jon’s hand a quick squeeze. Jon hissed at the jolt of pain lacing up his arm. 

“Oh god, Jon, I’m so sorry, I didnt- I didnt think, that was stupid of me-” Martin’s hands fluttered in the air around Jon’s. “God, that was awful of me, I’m really sorry-”

“It’s okay,” Jon said, grabbing at Martin with his uninjured hand. “It’s fine, it's already passed.” 

Martin gave him an apologetic smile, but didn’t argue. “That’s important to you, huh?”

“Hmm?”

“The ring. I’ve seen you wear it a lot. Does it mean something?”

“Oh.” Jon hadn't considered the possibility that Martin might be aware of the ring's existence. In his head, it existed in a bubble, separate from work and his colleagues. It made sense, he supposed, that Martin was able to see into that bubble, since its edges had been bumping against Jon’s perception of Martin for a little while now. “It, ah, its a- Its a sexuality thing.”

To Martin’s credit, he didn’t even blink at the idea that Jon might not be straight, just nodded and smiled encouragingly. “I thought so. Asexuality, right?” 

“Wha- Yes.” Jon had been gearing up to explain the intricacies of asexuality, not for Martin to already have that knowledge. 

“It came up when I was doing research trying to figure out my own sexuality.”

That caught Jon off guard. For some reason, throughout all of his deliberations trying to figure out where on Jon’s internal spectrum Martin sat, he had failed to consider the actual real life possibility of Martin’s queerness. “You’re-”

“Oh, I’m not ace.” Martin shook his head. “At least, I don't think so. Labels,” he chuckled. “Confusing stuff. I usually just go with gay and trans to sum me up.” 

A small, overlooked lightbulb in the back of Jon’s mind flickered to life as a couple of pieces of information fell into place with a quiet ‘oh!’

“I saw the ring but I didn't want to ask in case it was just a style thing. A lot of people don't know about this stuff and it's sometimes hard to tell, you know?”

“Right.”

“I guess the bandages stop you wearing it, right?” It was a non-sentence, a piece of idle observation that Martin was making. But it still stung. 

“It feels somewhat ridiculous to say but- I think I’m going to miss it. It’s just a ring, it's not my entire sexuality, I’ll still be ace without wearing it, but I’m still- It feels like I’m missing a piece of something that I was trying to hold onto, you know?”

Martin nodded. “I understand. Here-” he reached up and unclasped a thin chain that had been hanging around his neck. “You can borrow this. I’ll take these off for now.” He slipped off a couple of charms that had been hanging on it. Smiling, he held out the chain.

“You- You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” Martin wiggled the chain in the air between them slightly. “You can give it back when your hand is better.”

Wordlessly, Jon took the chain and looped the ring onto it. He lifted to try and fix the clasp around his neck, but he couldn't get the clasp open. Martin pushed his chair back, coming to stand behind Jon, taking the chain out of his hands and closing the clasp for Jon. 

“There.” Martin smoothed Jon’s collar down. “That looks nice!”

“Thank you.” Jon whispered, then louder, “Thank you, Martin. This- This means a lot.” 

Martin shrugged a little awkwardly, cheeks turning red. “No trouble. It means a lot to you, so, you know, you should be able to carry it with you.”

He smiled down at Jon, and once again Jon felt the small jolt of recognition, of comfort. The bubble in his mind fully merged with Martin, creating something new that, at least for a few more long, exhausting months, Jon didn't know to call love.

[stargirlwnchstr]

I have a visual to share with y'all. Say welcome to my long ass 'The Foxes + tiktok' headcanon

@ nickythefox_es (part 1???)

Basically Nicky gets tiktok but all of the foxes show up eventually and just use his profile.

• Most of the videos are with nicky and allison, also matt and dan and occasionally neil.

• Allison and nicky learn so many dances.

• Their duet of make his pockets hurt with Mariah and Zane from the vlog squad is the first one to go v i r a l.

• Yeah most of their followers know them but some and a lot of the comments are non exy fans that just watch them because they're cool

• So many of the "what is exy" "stickball game??" "dont even bother explaining to me what is the sport they play I dont care I'm just here for neil." And related comments get a liked from creator (andrew told nicky to like them)

•The "Oh my god she's coming." "I'm so afraid of her." Audio are the twinyards and nicky shows up, he had to bribe them to be a part of that one.

• They post another version but it's Kevin that enters and Allison and Nicky talking

• So many comments thirsting over them and calling matt and dan parents

• "the real bisexual struggle is simping for matt and dan in the same tiktok." -> liked from creator nickythefox_es commented/replied: ASDGFKSSDWADKWB

• Someone makes a 'put a finger down: Neil Josten edition' and nicky drags him to do it. They both smile as they listen to the prompts and Neil obviously puts all his fingers down but they're like "put a finger down if you clapbacked/if you bad mouthed someone (bonus points if it was on national tv)" "put a finger down if you're under 6 feet" "put a finger down if you love exy" and the last one just says "put a finger down if andrew minyard." Neil does and smiles at someone off camera. Needless to say it goes viral as well. A few weeks after nicky gets verified.

• Allison becomes friends with thenavarose and wisdom sorry I dont make the rules (they're fashion tiktokers)

• They make a series of rating each of the foxes throughout the day, including one of Wymack.

• They do receive bad comments, from bitter ravens fans or just recalling their pasts and nicky sits down and makes a video telling everyone about how they do this videos for fun they dont need hate and negative comments on their videos and all that

• Then another one posted minutes after, neil comes in and nicky says "okay neil you have one minute. Rant off." And neil goes on this rant like how they already hit Rock bottom a single comment is not gonna hurt them and "do you get how insignificant and meaningless your lives must be? You took the time to write and post a comment that you thought was gonna cause an impact and failed. Also thanks for the comments though it helps nicky stay on the algorithm." NICKY SCREECHES AND THE VIDEO ENDS WITH THEM SMILING

• Allison vlogs neil and her going shopping or thrifting also cutting Neil's hair

• *neil walks into the room wearing his orange bandana* *camera moves and zooms on Andrew's face* he doesnt lip sync but the song sings "oh noo I think I'm catching feelings" andrew tells him to delete it "but it already has thousands of likes andrew"

• They post some of their work out routines per request

• One of them is the fast and "I'm spinning like a ballerina" chill of neil just running on the treadmill and doing sprints and squats and leg stuff while it cuts to allison doing a bit of everything but looking like a queen on a matching set.

• A fun one that goes viral for "vine energy" is: it's very quiet on the court and Kevin, very in the zone, throws the ball to the goal, which Andre's catches easily and almost without moving. The camera goes back to kevin as he screeches and let's himself fall on the ground. Neil is standing beside him shaking his head and looking at the goal with a smile on his face.

• They try to teach neil the dances but while filming one of them he just leaves. They post it either way.

• They're in the bus, nicky is on selfie mode and says "it is game day my dudes" he turns and shows the whole bus S C R E A M S, in the corner Wymack is covering his face.

• The iconic "they say drunk thoughts are sober words" or something like that and it cuts to a series of videos of the foxes drunk af. Example: Nicky grabbing Allison's face and saying 'Remember. Bread. Head. Leave.' And allison nodding.

• Nicky films kevin standing up and put the "do you ever wonder what is going on inside their head?" And it cuts to pictures of racquets and exy and Jeremy Knox and one that says history stuff.

• Another one that goes viral is kevin very seriously and p e r f o r m i n g, rapping Jefferson's side of the cabinet battle #1 from Hamilton then towards the end andrew stands up in front of him and with his iconic bored expression he starts rapping Hamilton's part. Behind the camera there's a soft "...oh my gOD" and kevin is shocked eyes widen open and then the camera zooms on Neil who's mouth is open in shock but GRINNING and ~impressed~

• Dan and matt do The challenge, you know the one that like has to flip them over and all that and they ace it, nicky points the camera to where andrew and neil are stating and Andrew says no.

• A few minutes later another video of the challenge is posted only this time is matt and neil.

• Nicky and allison are in full gear filming a dance video (maybe savage or captain hook) on the court and someone films them filming that and then Wymack looking at them SO disappointed cut to Wymack with nicky's phone, having confiscated it and nicky besides him "coach, it's cardio!"

• Hours spent trying trick shots

• Foxes: "get back! Move!" Ravens: "Let me in! I be the I g g y!" Trojans: "Oh my God do no let her in" Foxes: "I am trying!"

• Nicky lying down: "okay but someone needs to tell me how old is the shirtless pottery guy. I can't be part of another controversy. It's for science c'mon. *debby Ryan's*"

• Someone comments "he's eighteen. Simp away, nicky." And he makes a video with his feet swinging and smiling. Aaron gets on the frame and says "we are deeply in need of some bowls." The caption: hi @ papapots

• They are verified so obviously he gains a couple of thousands followers and he duets smiling and with a package in his arms. Text: thanks for the support (and hi new followers from sport side of tiktok hope you enjoy my pots) caption: hi @ nickthefox_es I got you aaron.

• After the package comes they duet it with nicky screaming and showing off the goods and then he moves stop show andrew eating ice cream out of one of them. Caption: AJSNEPWLDKSS THANK YOU DAX

• Allison and nicky do the "I love you!" "No you dont topper! You love the idea of me. You love being seen with me but you dont love me." But nicky is Sarah and allison is topper. Next day the obx ig page reposted it "we stan the psu foxes pogues for life." And chase stokes posts it on Twitter saying "yoo the palmetto foxes watch??? my show???" Nicky takes a screenshot and on green screen he says "hi chase!! We do! The whole team binged it. Currently we've been debating who of us is going to dress up as pogues for Halloween." A lot of voices start arguing and as nicky is gonna enter the debate the video cuts.

• Allison does the facetime *deep male voice says hey* prank on them. Neil doesnt react. Nicky doesnt look up from his phone but does the finger thing and says "get that d, allison!" Dan and renee look at each other and then at allison and she bursts out laughing.

• aaron studying to be a doctor: *two plus two is four etc sound* andrew (eating pretzels from the bag while watching a game show lying down in a bean bag) and his eiditic memory [basically not needing to study]: *three is a magic number sound*

• Nicky runs through the court and enters the lounge beside the photo wall there's a poster he shows the camera as the sounds says it "alive ahaha fuck"

• Somehow they convince all of them to show up and do the wipe it down trend that ends up with wymack throwing the towel at the mirror.

• Comment: so how many members of the team listen to girl in red or sweater weather? Nicky stands there with the color filter: 👁👄👁👉👈 caption: yes❤

• He gets neil to duet to the whole "british people be like". "Neil I'm not british." "Part of you is so just read the tweets." He does and the comments are all thirst and simping

• Comment: raise your hand if you've been victimized by neil josten. Where my fellow Simps at? (The comment gets hundreds of thousands of likes) they make a video, everyone on the team except aaron who walks out raises their hand as the sound says "welcome to simp nation" kevin rolls his eyes but raises his, says something that nicky captions "i simp over his exy skills". andrew doesn't at first, but next to him neil whispers something and after andrew says yes, neil grabs Andrew's forearm and raises it. Andrew looks away and neil smiles.

• Nicky lying down: okay but what if Jean moreau traded places with the french guy from here you know who, david.

• Comment "ugh your mind nicky" reply video: right? Big brain, many thoughts, head full all the time. But like actually the idea of david playing exy and Jean hanging out with ducks and making viral tiktoks just-

• Comment "i feel you and @ austincantdrive would make the best chaotic duo" reply: we would be too powerful together. Austin replies too: agree.

• Allison makes a sports jersey/comfy wear but make it fashion and she styles herself. Everyone on the comments d i e s for her.

• Comment "okay but what about the boys. help allison." She makes a video too with matt and nicky and at the end neil wears an orange crop top and the internet b r e a k s

• Comment "allison do you listen to girl in red?" video reply: her winking at the camera and lip syncing as sweater weather plays. The comments a lot of them liked by creator: a win for the girls (and the boys)

• Upperclassmen Back in 2003: okay but hey do we always have to be involved? Can we do normal stuff that normal people do, like, go for brunch? Us (aaron, andrew, kevin and me): what the fuck is brunch?

• Of course they do the mr blue sky trend. Nicky: drunkenly goes to flirt with a guy. Aaron: drunkenly follows to get away from kevin. Kevin: drunk on pure vodka reminds us we have practice in the morning.

• Or another one all of them. Neil: ready to insult a reporter. Dan: tries not to laugh on camera. Matt: gets ready to hug him afterwards Allison and Nicky: Filming everything. Wymack: the only one trying to stop it from happening and failing.

• Dan and matt duet their reactions to every video edit of them, smiling and saying "your parents love you guys!".

• Comment "literally what is wrong with the ravens/ravens fans?The foxes are such a nice group of people and they're doing great in the sport y'all worship just shut up you cult-y athletic hype house." video reply: "ladies and gentlemen. The volume inside of this bus is A S T R O N O M I C A L."

• comment video reply: okay so we're not gonna talk about nicky at the gym?? Bc C A K E. nicky lip syncing "I'm glad you brung it up because I've been dying to talk about this for a fucking hot minute. First of all-"

• Colin uses one of Neil's or Andrew's interviews replies as one of his sounds and nicky fanboys a lot

• Allison and nicky do the Kardashian sound compilation.

• Nicky with a picture of Erik on green screen: "hi I just wanna say if you look anything like this please contact me. Thank you." Caption: miss u baby. And Erik watches his tiktoks and he facetimes him immediately. Nicky takes a screenshot and duets his own video crying with the screenshot caption: SKALSBSKAJSL Erik comments: stop making tiktoks and answer the phone, hemmick. Nicky replies: yessir everyone below comments keyboard smashes and you got a good one. Goals. Lmao kids that's what we call bottom panic. We stan one healthy long distance relationship and after that a bunch of long distance relationship questions that he makes another video on.

• A video of Katelyn and neil chatting and it pans to the twins watching them with the *when worlds collide sound*

• He reposts a snippet of one of his interviews post game where he grabs the mic from the reporter and nicky: can I say something? Reporter: sure, go ahead. Nicky: thank you. *looks straight into the camera* all the birds died in 1986 due to Reagan killing them and replacing them with spies that are now watching us. The birds work for the bourgeoisie. Thank you." And leaves. IT GOES VIRAL INSTANTLY.

• Comment "is everyone else gonna forget that tiktok where he said he was already part of a controversy? We stan a problematic icon?" Video reply: guys I might have been part of a whole Twitter beef thing against my little hoodie and Bruce hallway but c'mon, like, c'mon you can't blame me.

• Comment "for neil: does the carpet match the drapes 👅😍?" Video reply: neil on selfie mode. "Allison gave me her phone, told me to answer this and ran away so umm." He reads the box on the screen and frowns he walks and stands next to the window, where Andrew is sitting down and is barely seen on frame. "uhmm, the internet is confusing. Our carpet is like this" he turns the phone and shows the floor (grayish carpet) and then back at him "but we don't have drapes so, technically they don't match, I dont know." Andrew's head goes up and simply says "Neil." Neil turns "what?" And the video ends.

• of course nicky and allison do the WAP dance, on the court, when they should be running drills.

[whatisthiswritingthing]

Now Kiss - Alyssa Naeher x Reader

Prompt: Maybe an Alyssa x reader, where Alyssa is totally in love with R and Ash + team try to set them up. 

“Alright bitches, meeting in my room right now,” Ashlyn announced to the trio of keepers, throwing her arms over both Alyssa and Janes shoulders.

“We just finished meetings Ash,” Jane pointed out confused.

“This is a different kind of meeting,” Ashlyn winked.

“Ash no,” Alyssa tried.

“Ash yes,” Harris replied, excited.

Jane just followed the two keepers into the room, still confused as to what was going on.

Alyssa begrudgingly sat in the chair on the far side of the room, Jane lingered awkwardly at the door.

“Someone,” Ashlyn looked directly at Alyssa, “has a crush.”

“And someone,” Alyssa mimics, “needs to stay out of it.”

Jane perked up now that she knew what was going on.  

“Who do you have a crush on uncle?”

“No one, just drop it.”

“Y/N!” Ashlyn jumped in.

Alyssa sunk further into the chair, blushing deeply.

Jane made her way to the blushing keeper.

“Good call Lyss!” Jane shook Alyssa’s shoulders.

Alyssa pushed her hands away, going to stand back up.

“If you’re just going to mock me, I’m leaving.”

Jane pushed Alyssa back into the chair.

“We aren’t mocking you unc, Y/N is awesome, you have good taste. Let us help you,” Jane encouraged softly, squeezing her shoulders.

“Y/N is a stud forward, you’re a stud keeper, it’s meant to be,” Ashlyn added.

Jane nodded quickly, agreeing; Alyssa just rolled her eyes.

“So how we doing this?” Jane asked.

“Who’s rooming with her? We could do a room switch? Lock them in a room together? Make them practice PK’s together?” Ashlyn started rattling off ideas.

“Terrible idea, Y/N doesn’t sleep in a shirt, Uncle won’t be able to handle being in a room with her,” Jane giggled, Alyssa blushed even deeper.

“Awww Uncle! You’re too cute, but it’s true, so bad idea. We need you to not be a stuttering mess to make this work.”

“Kelley is Y/N’s roommate,” Alyssa filled in.

“We need the defenders! Kelley and Sonnett are perfect for this!”

“Yes!” Jane and Ashlyn pointed at each other. “I’m texting them now.”

Ashlyn barely even put her phone down when the two defenders came through the door, of course with several other players behind them.

“Nope, I’m out,” Alyssa got out of the chair heading to the door.

Kelley quickly grabbed her arm, pulling her back into the room, Alex followed on the other side.

Alyssa pulled her arms away.

“No, this was supposed to be a little thing. Just you guys helping me talk to Y/N, figure out if she likes me too. Not half the team!” She dropped her arms in defeat.

“We got you uncle, now you have all the positions together to help. I’m rooming with her, I’ll do some digging,” Kelley waggled her eyebrows.

Alyssa and Y/N were close, they did crosswords together, exchanged brain teasers to try and stump the other, partnering for workouts, Alyssa always volunteering to stay late for Y/N to take shots. The two practically attached at the hip for camps.

Y/N was difficult to read, no one knew much about her personal life. She never offered information and gave vague responses when asked. Even Alyssa didn’t know much about the forward, so she definitely didn’t know if she had the same feelings or not.

“Alright team, we’ve got a week left in camp, by the end of the week we will have you and Y/N together. Or at the very least we’ll know how she feels, and you can go from there,” Alex immediately took charge of the group.

Alyssa couldn’t tell if she should feel grateful or not for how quickly the team got together to assist her, normally she wouldn’t be interested in their help for something like this. But she had been dropping hints, or thought she had, been for months. She had asked the woman out several times, each time Y/N would say yes, but she never seemed to pick up that it was intended to be a date or teammates would invite themselves along.  

“For now, I’ll see what I can figure out tonight. Work some Kelley magic,” Kelley winked, bouncing out of the room.

Julie squeezed her fellow Redstars arm.

“We got you Lyss.”

The next morning, Alyssa and Y/N were sitting in the banquet room, each doing their own crossword, coffee sitting on the table in front of them.  Alyssa kept shooting glances towards Y/N. She had no idea what Kelley said or did after leaving the room.

“Why do you keep staring at me?” Y/N asked, tossing her crossword onto the table, pulling her coffee cup into her chest.

“I’m not, I’m not staring at you,” Alyssa stuttered out quickly, staring intently at her crossword.

Y/N rolled her eyes, picking up her crossword again.

Ashlyn and Kelley skipped over, each dramatically dropping into the chairs next to the two. Kelley threw her arm around the younger forward.

“Whatcha doing?” Kelley leaned in far too close; Y/N pulled herself away.

“Crossword,” Y/N replied sceptically, holding up the mentioned puzzle.

Alyssa watched from across the table, worried about what the two were planning.

“Sweet,” Ashlyn said disinterested, leaning over and taking the crossword from her hands. “Us keepers,” she motioned between herself and Alyssa, “want to practice PK’s after training today. You in to help?”

“Sure?” Y/N replied, confused. Normally Alyssa would ask her separate for something like that. Also finding is odd that Kelley was with Ashlyn asking, not Jane.

“Perfect!” Kelley shot up of the chair with a grin. “See you later you two.” She shot both women a wink and walked away.

“Subtle,” Alyssa tried to whisper lowly to Ashlyn who remained seated.

Y/N gave the two keepers a strange look, very confused about the short interaction.

“I’m going to uh, go,” Y/N got up, uncomfortable, feeling like she was part of some joke or prank.

Ashlyn’s smile immediately dropped. Alyssa’s as well, hating that she made Y/N feel uncomfortable.

“No, shit, Y/N come finish your crossword,” Ashlyn tried to stop her. “I was just leaving anyway.” Ashlyn got out of her seat, gesturing for the forward to sit back down.

“Nah, I was mostly done anyway,” Y/N replied quietly, suddenly feeling out of place. She grabbed her coffee cup and crossword and made her way out of the banquet room.

Alyssa watched her walk away, wanting to stop her and explain, but not fully knowing what to say.

“I’m sorry Lyss,” Ashlyn apologized. “We didn’t think she would leave.”

“Of course she would leave Ash!” Alyssa argued. “You know how sensitive she is and in her head she gets. You two being all weird wasn’t going to help!” Her frustration evident.

Alyssa shook her head, grabbed her things, leaving Ashlyn alone at the table.

For the rest of the day, Y/N was more quiet than usual. The odd interaction this morning had her on edge, she had been trying to keep her feelings towards the keeper to herself for awhile now. She didn’t think the keeper could possibly reciprocate them though, so she had resigned herself to just being friends. But after this morning, it felt like the other two had figured it out and were mocking her.  With that, she decided it would be best to just distance herself from the keeper and hope Ashlyn and Kelley would drop it.

Y/N had a terrible practice, she was all over the place; out of position, missing easy passes, passing the ball away, shots going incredibly wide. She felt like she couldn’t do anything right. By the time it was over, she was miserable. Several players had tried to ask was what was wrong, only to be blown off by the forward.

Vlatko and a couple coaches pulled her aside, each gently trying to ask what happened for such a poor performance. Y/N just hung her had saying she didn’t know. Even though she wasn’t in trouble, she still felt like she had been scolded and made her terrible mood even worse.

Alyssa watched the interaction from across the field, she could see how the practice and now her meeting with the coach was affecting the forward. While not normally one for physical affection, the keeper knew Y/N was and she just wanted to pull her into a hug and explain what happened this morning.

Instead, she jogged over to her, gently grabbing her arm to stop her walking away.

“Hey, we are still doing some PK’s if you want to stay.”

Y/N glanced behind Alyssa towards the net and could see several players all staring at them, some deliberately looking down when they noticed her looking.

“I couldn’t even hit the fucking net in practice, I doubt I’ll be any help to you now,” Y/N growled out.

Alyssa didn’t let get go of her arm, pulling her back when Y/N tried to pull away.

“Maybe it will help you work out some frustration then.”

“I don’t think so Lyss, thanks though. I’m just going to head back to the hotel, maybe swim some laps,” Y/N shook her head, walking away dejectedly.

This time Alyssa let her pull away, watching her walk to her gear. Alyssa turned toward the group waiting for her.

“Y/N not staying?” Alex asked.

“No, she’s heading back to the hotel.”

“We’ll fix this Unc, don’t worry,” Kelley tried to encourage.

“No, you’ll stay out of this like I wanted you to in the first place!” Alyssa snapped.

“What did you do?” Alex narrowed her eyes at the defender. Alyssa rarely got upset, so her reacting so harshly, so quickly was rare.  

“We just asked her to stay with PK’s!” Ashlyn tried to defend themselves.

“And made Y/N feel like uncomfortable. She hasn’t talked to anyone and had a shit practice. So stay out of it. Even if she doesn’t have feeling or does have feelings, I’m not losing my best friend because you guys had to meddle.”

Alyssa turned and joined one of the vans about to leave.

As soon as they arrived at the hotel, Alyssa began her search for Y/N. She needed to talk to the other woman before the rest of the team did. She knew even though she told them to stay out of it, there was no way they would actually listen.

Her first stop was the pool, immediately seeing the forward swimming back and forth. The keeper sat on the edge, dangling her feet in the water, waiting for Y/N to finish but not wanting to disturb her.

“What do you want Alyssa? I don’t want to talk about practice today. I want to swim until I can’t think straight, then sleep for the night, and hope tomorrow I can actually remember how to play soccer,” Y/N stood in the water next to the keepers legs.

“I know, and we don’t have to talk about practice. But I think I know what happened. Was it because of Ash and Kelley this morning?”

Y/N’s shoulders dropped. Alyssa could clearly see the tension in her body in the bathing suit she was wearing. She took a breath to steady herself, seeing the flesh briefly distracted her, but she had more important things. Y/N nodded her head.

“Felt like I you were all part of some joke and I was the punchline,” Y/N mumbled out, shrugging her shoulder, refusing to look away from the water.

Alyssa kicked Y/N’s side in the water, trying to get her to look up.

“Y/N/N, that wasn’t it at all. It was just Ash and Kelley being Ash and Kelley, you know how they are when they get some weird idea in their head.”

“I know, that’s the problem!” Y/N said a little louder, splashing the water. “It wasn’t some weird idea. I thought I was doing a decent job hiding them, but I guess they figured it out and were just teasing me about it, holding it over me without saying anything.”

Alyssa sat up straighter, creasing her eyebrows, now she was confused. She thought she was knew what was bothering Y/N, but now maybe she didn’t. What could she be hiding?

“Hiding what? What did they know?” Alyssa kicked her again.

Y/N froze, her hands pausing on top of the water.

“Fuck,” the forward whispered.

“What did they figure out Y/N?” another kick, firmer this time.

Y/N released a large sigh, her hands gently running through the water while she gathered her thoughts.

“They’re probably going to tell you anyway based off this morning, and I’d rather tell you instead of the I guess,” another kick in the water cut off the ramble. “I have feelings for you. I know you could never feel the same, so I’ve been trying to push them down, I’m fine being your friend. Somehow, they must have figured it out. I’m sorry they were weird with you this morning. I’ll tell them to drop it and leave you alone.”

Alyssa looped her heel around Y/N’s knee under the water, tugging it to force it to bend, causing the forward to crash into her legs. Y/N finally looked up, scowling.

“They were being weird this morning because they were trying to get me to tell you my feelings for you,” Alyssa chuckled awkwardly. “I don’t think they knew anything about yours.”

Y/N blushed, Alyssa could see it across her chest and up her neck. Both women stood silently, neither knowing what to say. Y/N fidgeted with the hem of the towel Alyssa was sitting on.

“Now’s when you kiss her! Or ask her out! Something!”  echoed through the pool. Followed by a smack and a quiet yelp.

They both looked to the doorway way to see Kelley and Ashlyn inside, with Ali and Alex beside them. Kelley rubbing her arm that Alex just hit.

“You know, we’re stronger than them, we could definitely throw them in the pool,” Y/N whispered, quiet enough the group at the door couldn’t hear.

“I’ll take Ash, you take Kelley?” Alyssa confirmed as Y/N climbed out of the pool.

Ali and Alex both seeming to know what was about to happen, moved behind Ashlyn and Kelley to prevent any escape attempts. The keeper and defender both oblivious to what was happening, each throwing out jokes about how neither actually asked the other out yet.

They both squealed when they were each picked up bridal style and carried towards the pool. Shouting at both to be put down and calling out random apologies.

Alyssa and Y/N both just laughed, easily tossing them into the pool.

Y/N squatted next to the edge, smiling at the now socked soccer players.

“Stay out of our relationship,” she attempted to look serious.

Ashlyn just splashed her.

“Really? I’m already in a bathing suit,” Y/N shook her head.

Straightening up, Y/N walked over to Alyssa.

“Coffee?” the forward asked.

“It’s a date,” Alyssa chuckled, shaking her head as well now.

“At least put some clothes on first!” Kelley called as she climbed out of the pool.

“Nah, I kind of like her like this,” Alyssa quipped back.

[mcondance]

other side of the game; hobie brown

summary // hobie swings by when you’re cleaning your room, and you know exactly what he wants.

cw // dubcon-ish (you say stuff akin to no but like.. you want it. it’s just a game you n hobie play), they talk a lot of shit, missionary

extras // you and hobie r Black so i don't wanna hear anything abt the grammar i used! "it's supposed to be doesn't" kill yourself idc, the song has. nothing to do with what happens in this fic btw it just.. it makes sense when you read it and it helped me write

wc // 2.6k

song shoutouts // special thanks to other side of the game by erykah badu and i get lonely by janet jackson

signing off // thank you to poetnon for this idea i hope you like this <3

.

.

.

you know the second you hear the knocks at your window that you won't be getting anything else done today. he does this every fucking time.

walking across your room, you unlock the window for your boyfriend, eyes meeting his as you psyche yourself up for what you know is coming.

you return your attention to your desk, and with your back turned to him, you hear him slide his lanky body through the frame, landing softly on your carpeted floor.

"you busy?" he muses pointlessly, already shrugging his jacket off and reaching down to untie his boots. player one, ready?

"yeah," you hum pointlessly too, hands fiddling with the trinkets on your desk. maybe if you don't look at him, you won't cave. player two, ready?

"what you up to?" his voice grows closer. you close your eyes, breathing deep and slow to try to build your resolve, but you can hear him inching towards you, the clinging of his belts giving his movements away.

"cleanin' my room." you spin around, figuring you'd face your doom instead. his shoes are off now, placed up against the wall under your window. and now the game has started.

"mhm. well don't let me stop you," he smiles, and you wish you could say that it didn't put another dent in your already rusty resolve, but it does. with shaking hands crossed in front of you, you push yourself up and away from your desk and move across your room to your pile of clothes, folding shit hastily, already so fucking nervous.

he takes your place leaning against your desk and scans your room, taking in how much you’ve already gotten done. it makes him feel a little less bad about what he’s going to do. “looks good already. how long you been cleanin’?”

“since like, 10.”

“mhm. ‘s 2:24 now. think you’re ready for a break?” you snap your head towards him, rolling your eyes and screwing your lips up at the implications of his words.

“not the kinda break you’re talking about,” you sneer, rolling your eyes again as you return your focus to the meaningless pile of clothes.

“and what kinda break is that?”

“the kinda break when you end up inside me. i don’t have time for it.” you don’t face him as you speak. you can’t. if you do, it’s all over. you don’t want it to end just yet. it’s fun. it always is.

“what, you think ‘m just tryna get in your pants? i jus’ think my girl should have a little rest, yeah?” at his words you drop the shirt in your hand, switching gears to organize your nightstand instead.

“you’re lying. you always do this.”

“do what?”

“this. you come here and sweet talk me and the next thing i know i’m under you and my room doesn’t get cleaned. i’m not doing this today.”

he’s silent— your brain isn’t. you know it’s only a matter of time until he’s doing exactly what he’s doing now.. wrapping his slim fingers around your waist and pulling you back onto him.

speaking directly against your ear, he finally comes out with what he wants. “take a break, baby, lemme make you feel good." his lips meet your neck, ghosting over your heated skin.

"can't, hobes, i gotta clean up,” you whine, but it's futile at this point, cause you're already leaning back onto him, already tilting your neck to the side to give him more access, already dropping the half-empty water bottle in your hand.

"you sure, love? y'can clean up after we're done, hm? i'll help you.” he sounds earnest, like he really cares. you shake your head no, but you let him pull you away from your desk and turn you around. "gotta clean," you repeat, but you let him push you down onto your ruffled sheets.

"then clean." he’s standing over you now with his hands tucked into his pockets, and he motions towards the pile of clothes with his head, knowing eyes fixed on your frame sprawled out on your bed. from here, the light frames him perfectly, and he looks so damn pretty. maybe you'll blame what you do next on that. doesn't matter now, though. eyes meeting, you both know you're not getting up— seconds pass with you both staring, a silent confirmation, and hobie knows your answer.

shrugging, he leans down with his hands still in pockets, placing a damning kiss on your lips, murmuring "gave you a chance, baby. knew you didn't give a fuck about cleanin'." and he's right, embarrassingly so, so you roll your eyes, channeling your faux-frustration into a rough kiss, curling your hands under the straps of his t-shirt.

he falls forward, hands flying from his pockets to balance himself on top of you. smiling against your lips, he speaks again, “see. . you want it. you’re desperate.”

his hips start to rock against yours, stacked belts clinging against your dangling legs. hands finding the side of his face, you huff at his irritating need to almost shame you, to show for some made-up record that no matter how much you turn him down, you want him. you need him.

so you push your hips against his, humming at the groan that flies from his lips. tapping your thigh, he ushers you up the bed, your bodies turning until your head is laid on your pillows.

he reaches down between you two, sliding your shorts to the side to rub his fingers against your already sloppy cunt, smiling when he feels and sees how wet you are. “cleaning my ass,” he jokes, kissing you before you can get upset again.

sliding his fingers up, he brushes the pads of them over your sensitive clit, swallowing the pretty moans that start to flow from your spit-slicked lips. hobie knows you like the back of his hand, knows just how much pressure you need, how tight his circles have to be, knows how to make you cum hard, and cum fast.

it’s always like this when he comes by with the goal to distract you— you always end up under him with whatever you have on pushed hastily to the side, fully clothed and his hand between your legs, shaking arms wrapped around his neck. it’s desperate, really, both your need to get off.

though you try to remain steadfast, try to act like you don’t want this, the way your hips move against his hand gives you away. “did all that sayin’ ‘no’, bu’ look.” he points his eyes down, towards where his hand is hovering above your cunt, fingers glistening.

“‘course ‘m wet, don’t mean shit.”

“it don’t? that’s wild, love,” he slides two fingers in without warning and presses his thumb against your clit before he starts his circles again, other hand moving to hold you in place when you thrash against him, “cause last time i had t’almost beg. ‘n the time before that, i did beg.”

you know what he’s trying to say, and it makes heat rise in your face and makes your eyes close, cause you can’t face him. no matter, though, cause he grabs your face, spits, “open your eyes. look a’me.”

you open your eyes and meet his low ones, ones that are always black with lust, ones that bore straight through you and make you feel so small and dirty underneath their gaze. he nods at your obedience, and then his fingers catch that spot inside you, and the licks of flame inside you morph into something like a fire, lighting you up with pleasure. you’re close, so close.

“you’re gettin’ easier, baby. act all you want, you’re desperate.” that sends you over the edge, and it’s embarrassing. it’s filthy, how he just has to talk to you a little mean and you’re cumming on his fingers, shaking as you choked out sobs of his name, like you weren’t just telling him to leave you alone 10 minutes ago.

before you even come down he’s kissing you, pulling your shirt up to free your tits.

"fuck you." you spew as you separate, but you still pull him closer, position him where his clothed dick rubs right against your cunt, kept away by the fabric of his sweats and your shorts that have almost rolled back into place.

"you will, in a second," he bites back, a wicked smile plastered across his ethereal features— features that are driving you fucking insane.

you’ve grown sick of his mouth— fisting his hair, you yank hard, drawing a pained moan from him and another drag of his cock against you. “you keep talking all this shit, but you’re the one who came up to my window looking for some ass. i don’t wanna hear it.”

“yeah? and you’re the one who kept going on about havin’ to clean your room, but i got you in bed so easy. we’re both fucked.”

and it’s true. the statement grounds both of you, and you both realize just where you are— inches apart, seconds away from what you both want. snapping out of it at the same time, your hands tangle together as you reach for each other’s bottoms, you freeing his pretty dick and him ripping your shorts right down the middle.

you laugh at his haste, his deep chuckles mixing with your giggles, foreheads meeting as you both calm down after your frenzy.

“‘m sorry. still forget how strong i am.”

“‘s fine. just fuck me already.”

“ehhh,” hand around his cock, sliding his tip up and down your waiting cunt, he teases once more, “y’sure you don’ wanna clean? room’s still a bit messy.”

“hobie, i swear to god, if you do not put it in me now i will pin you down and take it.” reading your eyes, he can tell you’re dead serious.

“‘s much as i’d love that,” he slides in with a pretty groan, and you wrap your arms around his neck with a throaty whine, “i want you like this.” pushing his hips up, he seats himself inside you.

breathing heavy, you both just take a second to calm down, to bask in the feeling of being intertwined with your lover again, no matter how annoying they can be. with closed eyes, you throw your head back, resting on your pillows. hobie takes that as a sign to spread kisses down your jaw, grinning when you smile.

“move,” you breathe, shifting your hips to give him better access.

that first stroke always drives you both crazy. the slow pull out, faces contorting in pleasure, bodies getting closer and closer until the next best thing is merging together again, you pushing down and him pushing up and then his cock takes its rightful place inside you, sensitive tip leaking against your cervix.

“‘m all the way in, love, can feel the end of you,” he murmurs against your neck, and you nod, curling your arms tighter around his neck. then, he just grinds, circles his hips, just barely pulling out.

it’s perfect, the way your bodies move against each other, giving and receiving pleasure at the end of the game you both love playing. with fluttery glides and soft slides, and pitchy whines and deep groans, you dunk yourselves into that familiar pool of feeling, let it fill up your noses and mouths until it’s spilling over, your bodies shaking and jerking against each other.

blissed out of your fucking minds, your lips meet the others, lazy connects of your lips that you can just barely call kisses. they’re slack-jawed and sloppy, spit-swapping, the lewd smacks filling the air, mixing with the harmony of fucked-out sounds.

slowly, hobie starts moving his hips around differently, on a mission now, one that has you tensing up, cause it never takes him long to find it, that sweet spot that has you—

“fuck,” you drawl, throwing your head back, and hobie just smiles and keeps his hips moving that way, keeps his cock kissing that same spot.

"that's it?" he hums.

when you try to articulate what you're feeling, try to tell him "yeah", the words never come. instead, he's raising up to spread your legs and balancing himself above you, switching from slow grinds to deep thrusts that have him pressing against that spot even more now.

now, with him slapping his hips against yours and his thumb on your clit, the sound fills the room, skin against skin. jolting against him, his eyes are still trained on yours, fixed on the furrow of your eyebrows and the o-shape your lips make, focused on how pretty you look when he fucks you.

your choppy moans fill his ears, the background to his barrage of words that fill yours. sentences about how pretty you look, how good you feel, how he just wants to fuck you forever, and then for the second time without warning, you cum again, right when he says something about wanting to keep you fucked and filled, "'s why i keep comin' over, cause i wan' you full of me all the time."

it's gentle, this time, streams of feeling flowing softly through you. hobie makes sure to keep his pace steady through it all, makes sure he prolongs it as long as he can.

when you come down, you're pushing up on his hips with shaking hands, nodding your head and telling him to move. he doesn't waste a second, lifts up and grabs your headboard with one hand to give himself some leverage, his other hand resting on your calf. this time around, he's forgotten all that slow shit.

he rocks his hips hard and fast, jolting you up, and your back rubs against your sheets, your hands fly to your thighs to ground yourself.

"keep 'em open," he slurs, eyes fixed on where he disappears inside you, on the way you cream on his cock, his pretty dick painted white. "watch," he tells you, "she swallow me up so nice." his tone is awe-filled, brown eyes lit up at the visual of you taking him so well.

your eyes roll back in your head, another wave of arousal overtaking you and you can't watch any longer or you'll go crazy, so you watch his face instead. watch his pretty fucking face contort in pleasure, watching his eyebrow piercings dance in the light, watch his sharp jaw clench when you clench around him.

and god, it’s building up again. how could have ever even thought you’d clean up today, when this is so much better. “you gonna cum?” he asks, cause he knows your tells better than you do. you nod shakily, hands gripping onto your thighs so hard you swear you feel your fingers going numb.

“then do it.” it’s an order, really, and you know what he means. hand flying to your clit, you rub messy circles, and hobie moves his hand from your calf to your thigh to keep you open for him. nodding with wild eyes, he watches you make yourself cum, watches your circles became sloppy side-to-side motions while you whine and almost fucking cry, watches your cunt clamp down on him and suck him in “like she don’t wanna let go.”

through the mind-fuck in your head, you hear him groan loud, and then he’s cumming too, gripping your headboard so hard you swear you hear a soft crack, but fuck the headboard, cause hobie looks so pretty when he cums that it don’t even matter.

laughing, blissed out of your minds, hobie lays down on top of you, breathing hard and sweaty as shit, just like you are.

“i really did need to clean my room though, hobie.” you hum, turning your head to face him.

“i wasn’t just tryin’ to get in your pants, love, i was serious about helpin’,” he mumbles against your neck. and he does help. by the time he’s sliding back through your window and kissing you goodbye, your room is perfect.

[tkwritesdumbassassins]

Fic Author Self-Rec

Thanks for the tag @musetta3 and @radio-chatter!

Rules: When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love.

1. Assassin's Creed: The Nemesis Saga

Rating: M

Word count: 112,794 (still in progress)

Planned pairings: Federico Auditore x OC and Claudia Auditore x OC with minor OC pairings.

Warnings: Canonical violence and death

Summary: Something that should have remained buried was stolen— only to be dumped on a targeted stranger. Now stuck in a time rife with both beauty and betrayal, Tristan finds that nothing is truly as it seems and that it's a long way back home. But will the road be that easy when time is running out and an unknown entity is hunting her down?

Nemesis has been my pride and joy for the last seven years or so. History, scandal, murder, intrigue, time-traveling nonsense, a handsome sassy man, and a strong-willed heroine with red-streaked hair— what more could one want in a story?

And while both it and I have gone through several growing pains through the years (like oh my god what made me decided to split the damn things into three books?!), I've always circled back to it because, since day one, it's always been the story I wanted to tell. In recent years, the added bonus of being able to teach folks just a tiny amount of history also just really warms my heart.

(I'm also like... super spiteful and salty about many of the decisions Ubisoft has made. So this story is a big giant finger to them for killing off characters, both physically and storytelling-wise. I'm looking at you Mister Jackass for Claudia and Maria's treatment)

2. A Horse with No Name

Rating: G

Word Count: 634

Pairing: None

Warnings: None!

Summary:

When a simple request turns into a case of r/MaliciousCompliance. Shenanigans ensue.

This started out as a running joke on my Discord server, and it eventually morphed into a gift fic for my very good friend. @readythefanons

I just thought the whole ordeal was hilarious from start to finish and it really captures Ezio and Trish's eventual friendship. Maybe one day I'll actually include it in my fic xD

3. Directions (Transformers)

Rating: T

Word Count: 2580 (Complete)

Warnings: None

Pairings: None!

Summary:

Being lost in a base without a tour guide kind of sucks.

This is an old fic. Probably the very first fic I ever published on AO3. It's not my best work at all. In fact, I probably shouldn't look at it in fear of editing the crap out of it— but this fic was the very first One-shot I EVER finished. And it, again, started out as a joke but turned into a gift fic for another very good friend of mine.

I just... really cackle at the idea of it all. xD

4. Mistletoe (Assassin's Creed)

Rating: T

Word count: 666 (Complete and no, I'm not sorry)

Warnings: None

Pairings: Federico Auditore x OC

Summary:

“He’s making that face again, isn’t he,” she said flatly, trying not to turn and look. “Which one?” She rolled her eyes, taking a drink from her wine glass. “You know… that one.” “The one where he’s leering like a cat in a bird’s cage and thinks himself subtle? You mean that one?”

Due to a sudden drought of idesas, a friend challenged me to do a Bingo Challenge to see if I could get the gears moving. And this was one of the ones that came out of it. (The prompt was ,set-up, first kiss, and history; and of course, my brain went with Christmas.

Just pure self-indulgence and features my two idiots ❤

5. Ropes and Armor

Rating: T

Word count: 420 (Complete)

Warnings: None

Pairings: Federico Auditore x OC

Summary:

How very knotty of you.

And finally! The last entry and the first installment of aforementioned Bingo Challenge. It was mostly an experiment and just gah, I don't get to write established relationship all that much—especially given how early in the slow burn I am DX

Thanks again for the tag <3 I tag anyone who wishes to do this!

[angelguk]

→ lessons in love — a jeongguk scenario

member: jeon jeongguk

word count: 5.4k

genre: smut + that’s it there’s barely a plot i just ramble for 5k words + besties!au + virgin au

warnings: virgin!oc / jeongguk keeps laughing at her / hey can i touch your dick for experience purposes / except jk is kinda into oc but let’s not discuss that yeah / um descriptions of dick / a handjob that takes forever to be a handjob / oc is babie but like she could be soft dom if she tried / basically jk is a leo moon and oc is taurus idk why she just is / somewhat sub!guk if u want it 2 be / over-stimulation kinda / they r not in highschool they just graduated it’s summer and oc would like to understand how dicks work / there’s a lot of hesitation in this but everyone has consented jk just has to do a lot of manhandling for oc to even touch him

soundtracks: dwbyf + bother, lil halima

a/n: happy birthday aleah! :3 💕💖

This is weird. Jeongguk knows this is super weird. He can feel it in the rigidness of his shoulders, stiff with a pressure that makes his skin crawl. There’s a weight wavering over his head and heart pounds erratically in his chest, driven by nerves he’s struggling to adjust too. Because, in what world is it normal for him to be sitting pretty at the edge of his bed, stripped to nothing but a loose t-shirt and his boxer-briefs, waiting to instruct his best-friend of twelve years on how to give a handjob? Jeongguk’s already came to the realisation that his life was an utter tragic comedy. But this? This was an incredibly new low for him. And when you meander into his room, the bathroom door adjacent to his room falling shut behind you, Jeongguk has the overwhelming urge to call this off. He really could; just slip his pants back on and kindly ask you to leave. But when you glance at him, gaze unexpectedly steady, it throws him off. He’s already somewhat lost, navigating through the anxiety and excitement that mingle in his system with difficulty and the indifference in your features isn’t helping. It’s what makes him swallow the apprehension that clogs his throat, forcing out a sentence that sounds meek even to his ears.

He says it at you descend onto the bed beside him, the tension between your bodies tangible.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

You pause, staring at him closely before you give a quick nod of your head. “Yes. Are you not sure?”

Jeongguk doesn’t know where he stands at right now. He really wants this. There’s already a tingle of heat sparking in his gut and you haven’t even touched him. But he’s also acutely aware of how this could change things. Maybe not for you because you were so painfully oblivious it hurt. But for Jeongguk? He knows his entire world could shift. Turn upside down on its head leaving him disoriented and lost in a complex ocean of emotions he’d never dared to dive into. But he still wants to, so bad that he thinks he might never forgive himself if he lets you leave him like this right now. Especially when you were offering to give him something Jeongguk had thought about more times than he’d like to admit.

He still remembers the night you asked him about this, the pretty innocent look on your face as you’d bunched your hands into the hem of his shirt and murmured your question. He’d forgotten how to breathe, for a moment, when those words glided out of your mouth.

“Can I give you a handjob?” No hidden objectives, just your body huddled into his one night, pressed so tightly together that Jeongguk could feel you. Every inch of you. He’d spluttered on air, his own hands falling to clasp yours and gently push you away because Jeongguk needed space if he didn’t want to do anything he’d immediately regret. But your face had fallen so quickly at that subtle rejection. And before he could tug you closer, reassure you that his reaction wasn’t negative, you were wilting into yourself, suddenly so far from him that Jeongguk couldn’t help but recoil, yearning for the warmth of you against.

“Why?” He tried instead - which was the wrong question. Who inquires the intention of a blowjob? Jeongguk, that’s who.

You’d frowned at him, the scowl on your pretty lips making his heart pound. “Never mind.”

“No – tell me, why?” Jeongguk’s pushed it because he still couldn’t process it the sentence that had left your mouth. It had not settled in his head yet, what that offer meant for him. For your friendship.

“Just because,” you’d retorted, shifting away. “But forget it. You don’t want to anyway.”

“I never said that.”

And that was all it took. You were looking at him again, the glean of hope in your gaze making Jeongguk want to do very dangerous things that he normally would never have conjured up in his head if your eyes weren’t settling on him like that.

“I want to learn,” you replied.

“How to give a handjob?” Jeongguk responded, the disbelief in his voice obvious.

You’d pouted, but your face betrayed the hesitation that gripped your heart. “I’m about to go to college and I’ve never even kissed someone Jeongguk. Or done anything with anyone ��� I think I should at least learn something before... You know.”

Jeongguk did not know. At all. But he withheld that comment, still bewildered that you were asking for this. “So, why start with a handjob? Not kissing?” The furrow in his eyebrows was instinctive.

“Why would I want to kiss you?” You’d snapped back, clearly irritated by the contents of this conversation even though you were the one that had initiated it.

Jeongguk had just glared, perturbing by this sudden side of you. “Yeah, but you’re willing to touch my dick.”

“All dicks are the same,” you replied.

“No, they’re not. Some have foreskin, some are short as hell, some are –”

“I don’t want a fucking descriptive piece, Jeongguk. Just tell me whether it’s yes or no.”

He’d faltered, taken the moment to read the gaze in your eyes. “You’ve still not told me why you want to do this. And why me?”

“Because you’re the only boy I can stand,” you said, slow with your words.

“Why not just…. learn from porn?”

“It’s not the same thing and you know it,” you’d replied. For once he can agree with you; there’s a difference between watching people fuck and doing the act itself. And it’s a lot more overwhelming and intimate when it’s your first time doing anything like that. “Besides, I don’t like watching that stuff.” That’s when you started twiddling with your hands in your lap, lithe pretty fingers fumbling over themselves. He doesn’t know if that was on purpose but it made Jeongguk’s brain start working, gears in his mind turning as a visual suddenly sprang before his eyes. The feeling of your hands around him, smaller this his own, working yourself along his length, touching him in ways he never imagined could be a reality.

That’s partially why he’s here now, half-naked on his bed. The other reason is that the idea of you doing this with anyone else kindled a fire of possessiveness in his gut that Jeongguk was very foreign too.

You nudge your foot against his, retrieving Jeongguk from the well of his thoughts with the abrupt reminder of your presence. It’s oddly silent in the room – something unacquainted to the both of you because you could never be quiet around Jeongguk. Not since the day you met him, when you were that little but loud rambunctious child that somehow befriended Jeongguk one late afternoon.

But you’re no longer children. Jeongguk’s painfully aware of that fact. Because he’s about to teach you how to give handjobs.

“Are you hard?” You suddenly say, breaking through the silence that cloaks you with an innocence that makes Jeongguk nervous. He is adamant not to give in to it, feeling somewhat irritated that he’s so weak for you that he’s allowing this. Your eyes aren’t even looking at him, focused on the band poster plastered onto his bedroom wall. The corner of it is ripped, and you’re trying to recall the name of the band when Jeongguk scoffs rather loudly, demanding your attention back on him. When your eyes meet, something tightens in your chest. It’s fast and has claws that sink deep, gripping your heart with intent. He’s staring at your closely, gaze unwavering and you’re struggling to decipher the hidden words in his eyes.

“Do I look like I’m hard?” He says it plainly, but there’s a challenge in his tone that you refuse to fall bait to.

“Well… Get hard then.”

Jeongguk laughs. He actually laughs. And you can’t help but be annoyed as your eyes falter to your lap, your palms warm because this shouldn’t be as awkward as it was. Yes, you were about to give your best friend a hand job but shouldn’t there be instinctive sexual tension? Electricity in the air or whatever. Not this – this mortification you feel so deep in your bones because Jeongguk knows you’re inexperienced and he’s just laughing at you.

The punch you land on his shoulder is involuntary, but all you do is hit hard firm muscles and he barely flinches, his fingers slipping into the mess of brown curls that sit atop his head like a halo.

“You’re making it hard to get hard with that attitude,” he comments. Which is true. Jeongguk is incredibly soft right now. Maybe it’s his uneasiness getting in the way but there’s also the wide gap of space between your bodies that is not aiding to the situation in his pants right now. And he’s the only one almost naked. You’re fully dressed beside him, which is strange but not as strange as the fact that you’re in his room to give him a handjob. And still, you won’t even look at him. He’s noted it, the way you’re sitting at the very edge of his bed, ass perched so precariously he’s surprised you haven’t fallen off yet, with your eyes glued to his walls or your lap. Never on his crotch. Not even on him for longer than a brief moment. It’s off-putting. How were you meant to touch his dick with your hands when you blatantly didn’t even want to look at it.

“Well… What can I do to help then?” You murmur. It would be nice if Jeongguk could just hurry up and get hard on his own because you were only here for one thing and that was a lesson you suddenly wished you’d looked for elsewhere. But it was too late to pretend like this never happened – it would be easier to just get it over and done with before swiftly erasing it from your memory.

Jeongguk clears his throat, and you immediately regret offering any help because he seems like he doesn’t want it. Not from someone with your naivety. But in reality, the simple question has a torrent of thoughts flooding Jeongguk’s mind and he has to physically stop himself from drowning further in that hole in his head because he might never be able to reach the surface if he lets himself get that deep. It’s enough for something to spur in his gut, a quick flash of heat that wanes out faster than he wants it too. But it’s a start. And that’s all Jeongguk needs to pretend like this isn’t as weird as it is.

“We could lie down instead,” Jeongguk offers, glancing at you as he awaits your approval. When you nod the tension in his body fades for a bit. Because it would have been ten times weirder if you gave him a handjob sitting on the edge of his bed with ten inches of space between your bodies.

It takes you a moment to get comfortable, rearranging the various pillows that scatter Jeongguk’s mattress until you’re both settled. Jeongguk’s flat on his back and your resting on your elbow, your bodies lined against each other. The intimacy makes your stomach swoop, a fast flash of longing that spreads through your system when Jeongguk tugs his shirt upwards, revealing his firm abdomen. He’s all taut muscles and brute strength and even though Jeongguk is your best friend you can’t lie that that doesn’t do something to you. He’s attractive in a conventional way; tall, handsome and so charming that it makes you sick. But at this moment Jeongguk looks so vulnerable, baring himself to you in a way that makes your heart thump hard.

Your stillness makes him diffident.  

“You’re going to have to touch me, you know,” Jeongguk says, gaze flickering to the way your shirt stretches across your chest. He shouldn’t be staring but it’s tight, revealing the silhouette of your chest easily. He’s noticed them before, but never like this. Something in him hates the way his dick stirs awake in his pants.

“I know,” you retort. And then your hand is skipping down his chest with no hesitation, fingertips warm as the journey along his happy trail. It’s the suddenness that takes his breath away, how bold you are as you touch him, the feeling of your hand tracing ginger patterns just across his navel sending heat right to his gut.

“I – uh – thought you said you were new to this,” Jeongguk can’t help but mumble. There’s already a stiffness forming beneath his underwear and normally he would be embarrassed but Jeongguk can’t seem to muster up a reason to care in this already bizarre situation.

“I am,” you reply. And he can still you’re still tentative from the way your palm hovers above his growing bulge.

“Go ahead,” Jeongguk says, giving you a pointed look that you return with vehemence. But before he can get out another jib at you, your fingers are cupping his cock, pressing hard into the fabric covering his length and Jeongguk short circuits.

You’re not even doing much, but the feeling of your warm palm against his has his brain struggling to string together a sentence, the heat consuming his body steadfast now. He bucks up into it, relishing the tiny gasp of awe that leaves your mouth. Because Jeongguk is rock hard now, heavy and thick under the press of your fingertips, straining against the material of his underwear. It’s then the air shifts – a subtle difference you wouldn’t have noticed if your ears didn’t discern the breathless moan that Jeongguk chokes out when you gingerly squeeze his length.

“That’s – oh,” he sighs when your drag the edge of your nails over his length, cock twitching because of the unexpected gentle pressure. But then you halt, looking at him for further direction and Jeongguk abruptly remembers the reason for this whole situation. He had lost himself, for a moment, in the feeling of your hands touching him like that. But there’s no place for that here.

“I don’t like it dry,” Jeongguk says, gesturing towards his drawers. “There’s lube there, third drawer.”

You’re up fast, digging through his stuff until your hands clasp around a bottle. “Strawberry?” you deride, drifting back to the bed where Jeongguk waits.

He blushes, abhorring the tingle in his gut. “What? It smells good,” Jeongguk justifies. But then you’re dipping back into his bed and he nearly bites his tongue. A part of him wants to ask you to take your top off, make him feel less exposed than the does right now. But that’s overstepping your argument. It was just meant to be him – this was educational after all.

You’re kneeling beside him all of a sudden, a delicate motion that makes his chest bloom dangerously. The bottle is twiddling in your fingertips, the confidence you’d exhibited moments ago diminishing rather quickly and Jeongguk realises you won’t touch him again unless he pushes for it.

“Leave that,” he says, taking your hand. The bottle hits the sheets with a soft thud. “Touch me again.”

Your fingers itch to do so but you’re still so unsure of yourself so you don’t move. Jeongguk exhales, so low that you wouldn’t hear it if it wasn’t for the silence in his room.

“Can I do something?” he mumbles. You nod because you know if he didn’t, nothing would happen and the both of you would have to wallow in this awkward mess you’d initiated.

His hand is gentle as he tugs your own downwards, resting your palm against his straining bulge once more. You slip in some pressure because you know he likes that, and from the subtle twitch of his cock underneath your palm, you think your observation was correct.

“I’m… I’m gonna take it out now.” He only says it not to startle you, because you feel so skittish beside him that Jeongguk has to hold every reaction you draw from him back. He waits for you to nod before he shifts your fingertips the band of his underwear, wordlessly encouraging you to help him out of the last bit of fabric that supports the boundaries of your friendship. You just dig your fingers into the elastic, throat tight as you force it down with the assist of Jeongguk shifting out of the material. His cock hits the cool air a second later, bouncing along the firm lines of his abdomen. The first thing you register is his size. He’s large. Not like you have anything to compare it too, but you’re not that foolish. You know he’s big. That’s what makes you pause, quiet because you’re actually about to touch your best friend's dick.

Jeongguk doesn’t notice it until underwear is somewhere on the floor, cock patiently waiting for a touch that never comes. He tries to give you time to adjust, but you’re just staring at his dick and it’s unsettling.

“Why are you just looking at it,” he asks. You blush in response, face bright with your bashfulness. Jeongguk feels a little embarrassed too. It’s one thing having your best-friend give you a handjob, it’s another to watch her just stare at your cock like it’s a bug.

“I don’t know,” you respond. But you do. Porn wasn’t your favourite thing in the world although you have seen penises before, mainly out of natural curiosity. However, seeing one up close with your own eyes and having the imminent knowledge that you were about to touch it was something else entirely. You don’t know where to put your hands so they stay put in your lap and you consider, for a brief moment, asking Jeongguk to forget about this entirely. That would be incredibly difficult to do though. You’ve seen his dick now – it’s scored in your memory for eternity. Every detail of it, from the veins that run along his length to how it sits heavy against his abdomen, head red with expectancy.

“You’re going to make me soft,” Jeongguk abruptly says, cutting through your apprehension.

“Sorry.”

There’s a long pause. He sighs again. You feel stupid.

“Do you… want to try to touch it? We can stop here if you’re not comfortable.” Jeongguk says it so gently and you feel even worse immediately.

You want to scoff at that because the person who should be uncomfortable here is Jeongguk. You’re the one who put him in this situation and now you’re just staring at his dick like it’s the ugliest thing you’ve seen on the planet. For the record, it’s rather nice. A decent length and thickness that makes your thighs clamp together involuntarily. The fact that you now know what Jeongguk's dick looks like is jarring in itself.

“Show me?” you say. “I mean like… how to touch it.”

Jeongguk bites back a soft laugh. “Just touch it. I’ll like anything you do.” When you reach for the bottle of lube he halts you. “Try without that first, though. If you want to.”

You nod your head, taking in a deep breath because your hands are shaking. And then you reach forward before you can overthink this any further, your fingers wrapping around his length. The first thing you register is how soft he feels in your hands. Warm too. Your gut twists suddenly at the weight of you against your skin, a sharp heady feeling that coaxes your fingers around him tighter.

“Oh – oh fuck,” Jeongguk shudders for a second, the sudden feeling of your bare palm against his length making his head spin. You’re not even moving your hand but he spine tingles, the promise of his high sitting thick in his bones.

“So…what now?” You ask, holding his dick like it’s a fucking joystick.

He can’t help it, the laugh the drifts from his lips. It’s innocent but your blush so hard that Jeongguk partially regrets it. So he stifles it and reaches out for the discarded bottle of lube in his sheets.

“It’s literally so simple, like so simple.” His flicks the cap up. “Open your hand.”

The lube is cold in your palm and you can’t help the tiny flinch that flickers over your face. You hadn’t expected it to feel like that, but you adjust quickly. When Jeongguk’s satisfied with the wetness coating both your hand and his cock, dumps the bottle to the side. His hand settles around yours a second later, gingerly guiding your fingers around his once more.

It warms up quick, the moment your hands begin to create a steady rhythm of up and down strokes along his length. It’s oddly lewd, the sound of your hands working around his cock, his fingers directing your motions. Jeongguk swallows the small sounds that threaten to leak from his throat, afraid he’ll make you uncomfortable. But he notes one thing right away. You’re too gentle. He likes his handjobs hard and fast and demanding. But you touch him like he’ll crumble in your hands.

“It’s not going to break,” Jeongguk mumbles a second later, unable to keep that remark to himself.

“Well,” you retort, exasperated because Jeongguk is so silent beneath you. Not even a gasp to let you know how well you’re doing. “What am I supposed to do?” You ask because you want this to be good for him. Need it to actually. There’s a heat pooling between your legs that you refuse to acknowledge but you’re acutely aware of the how tight your chest feels.

“You could just –” And then his hand squeezes down on yours, subsequently tightening the grip you have on the base of his cock. His body reacts instantly, just a shallow shift of his hip upwards but it’s enough to let you know what to do. “Holy –” Jeongguk stops thinking, brain turning mellow because you squeeze around him again and when your hands twist upwards your grip is tight, dragging at the edge of his head when you pull down. It’s so different from the stoic way you were touching him just moments before. You move with finesse, stumbling sometimes but you read his body well enough to know that Jeongguk reacts when you touch him like this, rather rough even though your fingers glide along his cock. You’d never thought he’d prefer it like this but the way he shivers whenever your palm settles tight around his head is enough to make you stomach flip. Whether it’s with yearning or surprise you discern just yet. Or rather you refuse to decipher that feeling at all. Instead, you keep your hand moving, swiftly along his length until Jeongguk’s mouth finally drops own, the groan that leaves his lips breathless enough to render your own lungs empty.

“Fuck – that’s so –  Nngh,” Jeongguk’s mumbling into the air, hips shifting up to meet the twist of your hands around his length. His fingers fall away, but you keep your fist tight just as he instructed, snapping up and down in quick motions that make the air charge with a heat you’ve never felt before. It’s weird to look but you can’t look away even if you wanted to. Jeongguk is gorgeous, the head of his cock red and needy, slick slipping from the tip with every graze of your palm along him. It gets swept up in the motions of your hand, which is already beginning to ache with the constant friction but the feeling of Jeongguk writhing underneath you spurs you forward, a sudden determination blooming in your chest. He’s not even hiding his moans, the air coloured with the cadences of his pleasure, so carefree with how he lets you know you’re being good to him. It’s intoxicating, observing the haggard rise and fall of his chest as Jeongguk whines into the sheets, your hands still wrapped tightly around him, coaxing out an orgasm that builds so deep inside of him. He should have jerked off beforehand but the prospect of you touching him like that had halted him. And now he was, thighs trembling every time your hand settles tight on his tip, with a load in his balls that he really wants to give you. He couldn’t stop it even if he wanted too. In fact, he desperately chases after it, his brain loose with the pleasure that courses through his body.

Maybe it’s the feeling of your small hand dragging down his cock or the little gasp that drifts from your lips when Jeongguk unknowingly twitches in the palm of your hand. But it happens before he wants it to. A fast cave of his stomach, breathe caught in his throat and then he snaps, spilling all over your hand as your name glides from his lips. A small chant, a prayer to ground him back to Earth because Jeongguk is levitating. Nothing has ever felt this good. And the fact that you don’t stop, hand still working him even when he’s so sensitive, the cum that leaks from his tip aiding the glide of your palm, nearly makes his brain melt into nothingness.

He chalks it up to your inexperience. You don’t know when to stop and give him a breather. But Jeongguk doesn’t mind because he likes it like this. Likes being pushed past what his body can give, enjoys the sting of pain that lies beneath the pleasure. He’d done it to himself multiple times before but it feels so different when it’s your hand working his cock like this. Like you want him to give you everything he has. Everything and more.

Jeongguk knows he’s in trouble the moment the forces his eyes to crack open, the shudder that slips down his spine when he finds you looking at his cock as you wring him dry making the bones in his body fuse together. He’s tingling, bursting with heat and electricity that threatens to devour him whole. But then his eyes shift to your lips and your tongue sneaks out, skipping over your bottom lip, pink and wet. Jeongguk can’t help the thought that forms in his mind. How your mouth would feel around his length, your tongue on his cock, the feeling of you choking on him as he fucked your mouth open. It’s hitting too fast for him to cope, a terrifying burst of warmth that runs from his head to his toe and Jeongguk nearly cries. It’s then that he paws your hands of him, let’s his still hard sensitive dick drop to his chest, desperately searching for air because he’s about to combust.

You only pause then, the stickiness that coats your palm making your chest feel funny. But then you glance at Jeongguk. His golden skin is glistening with sweat the rouge blush that scatters across his bare body, oddly beautiful.

“You’re still hard,” you murmur, involuntarily reaching out for him.

Jeongguk swats your hand away and something in you crumbles.

“Give me a moment,” Jeongguk gasps into the silence, too afraid to move because his dick hurts but it’s still so hard. He can still feel that edge, sharp and dangerous with how makes its presence known in his gut.

“Was I bad at this? You didn’t like it did you?”

Jeongguk wants to laugh again because anyone with eyes could see the mess you’d just wringed out from him. He can feel the streaks of his release on his chest and the fact that you don’t realise this makes him feel things he can’t understand. But he reads the unsureness in your tone and bites back the laugh in his throat.

“I did,” Jeongguk says instead, voice gentle despite the tension in the air. “You were about to make me come again.”

“Oh.”

And that’s all you can say because you see it now, how much the sheets beneath you are ruined not by the bottle of lube you’d all but dumped on his dick but by the mess of Jeongguk that now coats your hands too. You’d never expected it to be this much but there’s something about seeing him now, wrecked on his bed because of the way you touched him that makes your brain go fuzzy for a second. When you shift on your knees, you feel it. The weight in your gut, the heat between your thighs and the wetness that clings to your underwear.

Jeongguk must see it too because he meets your eyes with his heated gaze, cock still painfully hard against the perfect line of his abdomen. He feels himself sink deeper into that hole when your tongue skips over your lips again. There’s trouble in his. He knows it. He knows it so bad and yet he can’t help himself. Not when your eyes settle on him like that.

“Oh,” you say it again, fingertips settling on Jeongguk’s thigh. He tenses because it wouldn’t take much for you to drift your hands upwards, touch him again until he was whining into the sheets helplessly.

He hopes you read it in his eyes, the silent plea for this to not end just yet. He’s not ready to let this opportunity slip from his fingers right now. And then you say it. Jeongguk kind of wants to kiss you right away.

“Do you want me to make you come again?”

You shouldn’t have asked but your brain isn’t currently attached to your mouth right now and the wanton desire leaves your lips before you can swallow it down. There’s a moment of silence in the room and you don’t dare to look at Jeongguk, because you know he’s looking at you.

It’s the lilt in your voice that renders him helpless, plaint to any of the whims you wish to subject him too. You’re bolder than you pretend to be and Jeongguk wants to see more of that. More of this. Even that thought is wrong in itself because this is just a onetime thing. A blunder in your lives that both of you were immediately meant to forget. He sighs hard, back moulding into the sheets of his bed because Jeongguk feels heavy. The weight of his realisation sits on his heart, accompanied by the warning that bubbles in his chest. He should address it, but it’s so easy in this moment to ignore it. Because he wants that as much as you do. Maybe even more. So he lets himself have this, doesn’t question the way his heart flips when you glance at him, still waiting for his answer to your sudden offer. One mistake can’t hurt, can it?

He takes your hand into his, abhorring the way his gut tightens when your whimper. A tiny helpless noise that makes his thoughts run. Would you sound like that with his dick buried deep in you? Would you even be able to take him at first? No one had ever touched you like that. A part of Jeongguk wants him to be the only one to see you like that. But that’s not his to have. You’re just his best friend. That’s it. Yet as he guides your hand back to his length, feels the weight of your fingertips as they wrap around him, Jeongguk can’t help but imagine having more with you.

“You okay?” You suddenly ask, the sudden twitch against your palm drenching your underwear. But Jeongguk looks so distant, spaced out in the solace of his mind. You want him here, want him present. You give his length a sudden squeeze, the soft moan that glides from his mouth soothing the sudden need for reassurance that lingers in your heart. “Is this fine?”

No this is not fine, Jeongguk thinks. He’s not okay – at all. And that’s because he’s thinking thoughts about you and him and together. The both of you. Waking up with you, limbs tangled in his sheets. Going to bed with you in his arms. Being able to kiss you, touch you, without it being strange. Making you feel good underneath him (or on top of him – whichever you preferred). Being there for you forever. Not just as a friend. As more. He can’t help but long for that.

He hums instead, drives his hips up hard. “Yeah,” he says, even though his heart is beating painfully as he lies. “This is fine.”