#polo sofa set

[simpforboys]

what you need

rafe cameron x f!kook!reader, slight jj maybank x f!kook!reader

summary: when Rafe hears about your desire for JJ, he quickly steps in to remind you of what you actually need.

warnings: smut!! dirty talk, possessiveness, mostly canon!rafe, swearing, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv sex, creampie, fluff, drug/alcohol use, degradation, terms (slut, whore, bitch, etc), breeding kink, kinda cnc (?)

based on what you need by abel tesfaye (the weeknd)

not proof read!! (as always) <3

it fucking killed Rafe that you slowly stopped answering his messages.

it fucking killed Rafe that you slowly began to hang out more with JJ Maybank.

and it fucking killed Rafe when he found out you fucked JJ Maybank.

twice.

Rafe hadn’t seen you for a few months. while the two of you had an on and off fling, everyone in Kildare knew you were Rafe’s.

no one dared to question the Kook Prince, especially since the rumors of his decreasing sanity went around.

Rafe was with Barry, the strong scent of marijuana and beer in Barry’s little trailer.

Rafe set up a line with his credit card, snorting the powdery white substance. he leaned back against the couch, closing his eyes slightly as the intense drug coerced through his pumping veins.

“dude, did you hear that Y/n fucked Maybank?” Barry asked suddenly, lighting a cigarette after he snorted his own line of cocaine.

Rafe’s already wide pupils grew wider. the veins in his neck began to bulge as he clenched his jaw.

the reason why it fucking pained Rafe to hear you fucked JJ was because the whole time you two had your fling, you would constantly tease him.

whether you two were on your sofa, your hips moving against his quickly as you chased your orgasm over his clothed cock.

and as soon as you would cum in your panties, you would leave him dry. every. fucking. time.

no matter how badly Rafe wanted to feel your pussy, you held off on him.

and to find out that a worthless fucking pogue got to your pussy before he did? oh, he wished he didn’t see JJ or else he might’ve killed the dude.

Rafe didn’t respond to Barry’s words. all the kook did was light a cigarette, letting it lay low on his lips as he collected his shit. with the keys to his car, and suddenly feeling as sober as ever, Rafe drove out of Barry’s driveway.

you lived a couple blocks away from Rafe on Figure 8. he knew your address like the back of his hand, so when he pulled onto your street he parked his truck on the curb before walking to your front door.

you opened the door, surprised to see Rafe standing there. he had a backwards hat on, a navy blue polo shirt, and tan cargo shorts on.

his baby blue eyes were dark and clouded, the white around his pupils now bright red from the drugs.

“the hell are you doing here? you smell awful.” you asked him, your eyebrows furrowed.

Rafe’s eyes raked down your figure. wearing a lace silk pj set, your breasts peeked over the top as it hung low on your chest.

Rafe paid your question no mind as he walked inside your house. “Rafe-“

“is anyone home?” Rafe asked, still staring out onto your backporch that overlooked the ocean.

“no, what the fuck do you want?” you asked, watching his tall body approach yours. in one swift motion, he captured your lips in his.

he pressed your back against the door, his fingers locking the knobs. his hand moved to your hip, pressing your body to his.

the taste of liquor melted on your tongue as you kissed him back, your core throbbing from the sudden action.

he quickly walked you backwards until you landed onto your plush white couch. your head rested against the patterned pillow as Rafe hovered over you, his hand running down your thigh.

“you gonna be a good girl f’me?” he asked against your lips, moving to kiss and nip down your neck. his eyes practically bulged out of its sockets when he saw a hickey directly on your breast.

a small growl escaped his mouth as you whined with need. you felt his tongue trace the bruised skin, before sucking the flesh into his mouth.

“fucking answer me, Y/n.”

“yes- Rafe, i’ll be a good girl.”

you sighed out as Rafe slid your shirt up, revealing your breasts. his eyes seemed to enlarge at the sight, before he swiftly sucked your left nipple into his mouth.

“tell me what that nasty ass pogue did to you, Y/n. where’d he touch you?” Rafe asks, his voice in a rasp and deeper than normally.

he was so pissed, and his questions made you buck your hips against his abs. “Rafe, is that what this is ab-“

“you’re gonna answer all my fucking questions and behave, understood?” he asked roughly, grabbing your jaw as he forced you to stare at him in the eyes.

what you saw wasn’t the man you were used to, but instead an animal coming to claim his territory. and the idea fucking turned you on.

“he- he sucked my tits…” you trailed off, letting out a small sigh as you felt Rafe’s mouth latch onto your nipple once more.

like he needed to be better than JJ, needed to show you what it’s like to fuck a real man.

“and he…” your face felt warm as you admitted all of this information to Rafe. but his lips felt chilly against your hot skin, and it was driving you insane.

“did he touch you here, Y/n?” Rafe asked suddenly. his fingers danced over your clothed pussy, making you jolt in response.

you nodded at his question.

“he ate me out,” you shyly admitted.

Rafe hummed in response, tugging your shorts down onto the wood floor. he wrapped his arms around your thighs, pulling your body til your pussy was on full display for him.

he spread your legs wide, the cool air hitting your soaked pussy. your clit twitched from the temperature, and the fact that Rafe Cameron was staring at your vagina like it was his last meal before death row.

“yeah? that little fucking pogue touched my pussy?” Rafe asked, kissing and nipping your inner thighs. his knees rested on the rug as he leaned forward into your cunt.

“‘m sorry,” you breathed out. your legs twitched when you felt his hot breath ghost over your clit.

your back arched slightly when finally began his attack on your cunt. he circled his tongue skillfully along your clit, his two fingers going up to collect your juices.

“oh my god, Rafe,” you whimpered. your hands gripped your tits, massaging your nipples.

as Rafe entered his fingers into your cunt, he left a kiss on your clit. “fuck, Y/n. does the pogue have a tiny dick? you’re so fucking tight.”

you couldn’t respond as Rafe’s fingers quickly found the spongey spot inside your walls. your legs began to shake with ecstasy and Rafe’s naughty words weren’t helping.

it was like he studied your body like a map, knowing all the little tricks to get you closer to your orgasm.

so when Rafe began to suck on your clit, he sent small hums from his throat. the action caused it to send vibrations up to your clit, making you almost scream out.

“fuck, just like that.” you told the man, your eyes fluttering shut as a knot formed tightly into your stomach.

you tried to delay your orgasm, knowing that coming within the first three minutes would be embarrassing.

but to Rafe, it made his cock throb with need as he fought to get you to cum on his tongue.

he sped up his fingers, sucking harshly on your clit until he felt your walls contract against his fingers.

you moaned out as you came, your legs shaking as you gripped onto the pillow behind your head.

Rafe gave another kiss to your clit, working on his own shorts. he unbuttoned them and quickly pulled the zipper down, revealing his big cock.

roughly eight inches, with a prominent vein running from the base to his pink tip. pre cum oozed out of the tip, as he used the juices from your cunt to work his hand up and down his cock.

“look at me.” Rafe commanded, making you to leave your euphoric state. your eyes went wide when you saw his dick, standing proudly at you.

“holy shit…” you whispered to yourself, placing your hand on his cock. you felt it twitch against your touch.

“you gonna be a good fucking slut and take it all?” he asked rhetorically, knowing that either way you would take it.

“Rafe i need you.” you said quietly, wanting his large cock inside of you. he was bigger than JJ, but JJ had a slightly bigger girth.

“what was that?” he hummed, using his tip to slap against your clit as he teased you.

“i fucking need you, Rafe.” you admitted out loudly, desperate to finally feel him inside of you.

“don’t you ever fucking forget that, got it?” Rafe said darkly, sliding his member into your cunt.

you let out a small squeal from his sudden roughness. both of you moaned as your walls worked to fit around his massive cock.

as Rafe began to piston his hips, sliding his dick balls deep and pulling out to just the tip, your mind began to grow hazy from the feeling.

it was like your pussy was made for him, Rafe kept telling himself.

“you like that dick, baby? taking it so well… did Maybank fuck you like this? hmm?” Rafe speaks, mostly searching for your validation.

you nod, although you’re barely listening. his cock is hitting your cervix and driving against your g-spot as he pushes in and out of you quickly.

“you’re gonna be a fucking whore for the pogues, gotta show you how a real man fucks.” Rafe murmurs, holding your body tightly so if you made any effort to escape he could stop you.

“Rafe- ‘s too much,” you pant.

“i thought you said you were gonna be a good girl?” he taunted you, his eyes deep with lust as he held the back of your head and neck, forcing you to stare at him as he fucked you.

you didn’t respond to his comment, pure pleasure consuming your body. it felt like he was folding you like a pretzel, your body spread wide and open for him to take you any way he pleased.

and you didn’t seem to mind, not when he can dick you down this good.

“been everyone’s slut but mine, yeah? how’d the town feel knowing that you’re fucking ran through, and didn’t even let me get a piece.”

Rafe was now speaking to himself, but the fact that he was degrading you and making you his bitch almost made you cum.

“this pussy is fucking mine, Y/n. say it.”

“my pussy is yours.” you squeaked out, only half listening to his words as he marked you.

“louder.” he demanded you, slapping your cheek slightly to get you to focus.

“my pussy is yours, Rafe! fuck!” you shouted, clenching your walls against his cock.

the devilish grin that formed on his face was enough to almost send you over the edge, like almost tripping over a mountain edge.

and as your body jolted in his hands, he continued to grunt quietly until soft whimpers escaped his mouth.

the noises barely danced off the tip of his tongue, but fuck, it was like music to your ears. Rafe fucking Cameron, whimpering for you.

“you wanna cum, baby?” he cooed at you, taking his thumb and rubbing circles on your clit.

your eyes rolled to the back of your head from the action, your pussy clenching once again.

“please,” you begged.

“tell me how badly you need it. how badly you need me.”

“Rafe i need to cum so fucking bad. i need you to let me cum- i fucking need you, Rafe.”

your words were coming off broken as you pleaded, taking every fiber of your body to not orgasm right there.

“cum on this dick, Y/n.” Rafe demanded, continuing to fuck you through your orgasm.

the way you entire body convulsed caused Rafe’s dick to twitch inside your cunt, making him so fucking close.

your cunt was perfect and he couldn’t imagine fucking anyone else after you.

“you want me to cum in this fucking cunt? show everyone that you’re my little pregnant whore?” he coos, his smirk still on his face as he bit his lip at the idea.

“i wanna be your pregnant little whore, Rafe.” you responded, catching him off guard. you felt the way he twitched once more.

“fuck, you’re gonna look so hot carrying my baby. mark you as mine so this whole fucking town knows not to go near you.” Rafe says, sucking on your tit as he cums.

his seed shoots inside of you, coating your walls with his kids. you ran your hand through his hair, his hat thrown somewhere off to the side. you both panted against each other, trying to find your breath from the pure ecstasy.

Rafe hugs your body close to his, coming up to rest against the couch. you curl into his arms, tiredness erupting over your body as you yawn.

within minutes, you were passed out on his chest as he pulls a blanket over the two of you.

“i love you, Y/n.” Rafe whispers against your temple, pressing a small, tender kiss to the skin.

[ithebookhoarder]

(BAU Headcanons) Spending a day off with your S.O.

Aaron Hotchner

Ok. So. First of all... Aaron's casual wardrobe is sinful and I feel like I need to mention it when talking about days off. After all, he's not going to turn down the excuse not to wear a shirt and tie, knowing jeans and his usual polo shirts are better suited to both relaxing and possibly chasing after Jack.

If you two ever got a rare day off then he would do his best to make you breakfast in bed, knowing that having an excuse to stay in bed is a luxury.

If Jack is with you, and not at Jessica's, then you know Jack would be right next to him in the kitchen, begging to help. I mean, if you watch Bluey, picture the episode where Bingo is trying to make that omelette for Bandit on his birthday... that's basically the vibe here.

Hotch wouldn’t try to force you out of the house if you didn’t want to go, as he’s perfectly happy to stay in and play with you and Jack. After all, you have the most recent lego set, which you bought him for his birthday, to finish building.

"You up for that buddy? Six hands are better than four, after all."

Or, if you don't have the energy or patience, then you three can curl up on the sofa together and watch movies and the backlog of tv shows you’ve missed out on whilst you’ve been away working. 

Fun Fact: Aaron would rather die than admit to the rest of the BAU that you got him hooked on reality shows like The Real Housewives of Beverley Hills or Below Deck -but he is. He finds them fascinating case studies in human behaviour... or that's his excuse anyway when you call him out on it.

However, if you do want to actually leave the house and get outside then he’d be pretty relaxed about whatever it is you wanted to do, as long as you could all do it together. 

He'd also love it if you both got the chance to go for a run, enjoying the rare opportunity to race you through the nearby park. You can just soak in the sunshine and watch the other people as they make their way through the world, before grabbing a coffee on your way home.  

David Rossi 

Rossi is a man who knows the value of creature comforts, as we've seen repeatedly in the show. You know this man enjoys having time off to indulge himself - and you too.

As soon as he knows he has the day off, you can bet he's driving you to the local farmer's market to buy all the ingredients needed for a home cooked feast. 

Despite promising to be there only an hour, you know he's the kind of person who would talk to each and every vendor, learning all their names and asking after their families as if they've been friends since birth.

You'd end up spending almost the entire morning - and part of the afternoon - shopping, sampling various treats and wares, and buying several bag's worth, before you're finally able to drag him back to the car.

As he's cooking, Rossi would definitely play his favourite records. He alternates between crooning along and telling you tidbits about the artists - and the many crazy memories he has about these records.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I first heard this? We were in this tiny little motel, in the middle of a horrific blizzard, and several whiskeys in..."

It's hard not to get distracted, drawn in as he pulls you close and starts dancing about the kitchen. You'd get so distracted that you almost let dinner spoil and only remember it's even there when you start to smell something burning.

"Ah! Merda!"

After dinner you know you'd end up outside on his patio, enjoying the view as the sun goes down, over a cocktail of his choosing.

Derek Morgan

You know this eager beaver would not be spending a day off with you doing nothing or letting the day ‘go to waste’.

He’d be at your doorstep bright and early, looking unfairly energetic for someone who has been running on minimal sleep all week.

Thankfully, he brings coffee and breakfast with him which is his way of bribing you to get your ass up and out with him. 

As for the day itself, he’d either have the day planned to a ’t’ or he’d have nothing planned at all. 

“Relax, sweetness, we’re letting the day take us where it may. Enjoy the ride.” 

He'd love having a reason to take you to whatever property he's renovating, hoping to share his vision for the place and getting your opinion on it all.

He'd even let you have a swing or two with a sledgehammer if there's a dry-wall that needs taking down. It's a great stress-reliever for you both, and there's nothing like hammering along in the time to beat of whatever playlist he's chosen.

He'd also order you a pizza, or whatever take-out you fancied, as payment for all your hard work.

You know he'd also been keen to help you wash up later, running you both a hot bath to soak in as you actually have the time to enjoy it.

And just between us - he knows Hotch and Rossi would have his guts his they found out - but he may or may not have left your cellphones on the bed-side table just to ensure you get an hour of peace, undisturbed...

Emily Prentiss

Ok. So. Emily loves having a day off almost as much as she enjoys working.

She doesn't require much in the way of plans. In fact, her ideal day off from the BAU involves you, a crossword puzzle, and your usual table by the window at the coffee shop around the corner.

It's right by the window, so you can bathe in the sun whilst you nurse your way through coffee after coffee.

The whole place reminds her of one similar that she spent her time in, in Paris. Just like then, she loves reading books, and completing the daily crossword with your help.

"Damn it. This is what time in Europe gets you - I forgot there's no 'u' in color. No wonder it wasn't fitting."

Emily also has a game she likes to play, watching the people around you, guessing what their stories are and imaging outlandish profiles for them all. It's a privilege to enjoy it when it's for entertainment and not out of a need to be aware of your surroundings or an ongoing threat assessment. 

Afterwards, you'd go for a stroll around the park and most likely visit the shops you rarely get a chance to.

You both spend ages going through the racks and modelling outfits for one another, knowing you need some new things to fill out your wardrobes other than work-attire. It's a like private treat for yourselves.

Once you're home again, I feel Emily would want to cook and would do a pretty good job when she has the energy. However, she is not above ordering takeout when you both can’t be bothered. 

After all, it gives you both more time together to lie in bed, with Sergio curled up between you, purring loudly as you take it in turns to pet him.

JJ

Depending on when you two got together (before or after Will), she would love to have a chance for the both of you to spend the day with Henry.

You're her family and the most important thing in the world to her. It's why she can't stop beaming as you spend the afternoon at the park together, running rings around the place and clambering all over the playground.

"I swear this kid is faster than most of the Unsubs we chase - and more sneaky too."

JJ would bring all your favourite snacks with her so you can all lie out on the grass and feast once your energy levels drop. She doesn't even mention the sugar content or how many E-numbers there are. You all deserve a treat, Henry included, so she's willing to put her 'mom hat' aside for a minute.

I feel like she'd also try and put her mom hat aside so you two can have some time without a child in tow. She'd try and make a last minute arrangement to get a sitter so you two can have some 'adult' time.

This normally involves making a reservation at your favourite restaurant, and insisting on you both dressing fancy just for the fun of it.

After all, you never get to play at being grown ups and just enjoy wearing something because it looks nice and not because you can run around in the field in it.

"I've had these heels for years and I swear I've only got to wear them like three times - and this skirt! I love this skirt."

Once you get to the restaurant, you spend hours just talking, drinking, and eating before taking a stroll on the way home.

You then curl up in bed and fall asleep to the sound of the TV playing your favourite movies, safe and warm in each other's arms.

Penelope Garcia 

This girl is the queen of relaxing. If she doesn’t have to be awake before noon then you can bet your ass she’ll be tucked up and toasty till 12:01. 

Once she's awake, however, she's a flustered mess, struggling to pick between her various plans for your time off together. There's just so much she wants to do with you and never enough time.

"What? I'm the queen of fun and I just want to make sure we make the most of our time together, sugar plum. I can't help it. I'm excited to have a day just you and me, not that I don't love the others too. I do, but you know, just having it be us is rare -"

You stop her rambling with a kiss, which of course makes her melt.

I feel like Penelope would always try and spend part of the day with you in the kitchen, baking a new recipe to take to work for the others to try.

She'd also love spending the day on the sofa with you, watching either a Rom-com or a Sci-fi marathon (depending on your moods).

Once the decision has been made, she'd insist on gathering supplies - AKA: onesies, takeout and face masks.

"It's the holy trinity of self-care," she explains, holding up your choices. "Now, do you want the tea-tree or coconut face mask?"

However, if you do feel like getting out of the house, then Penelope would take you on theatre trips - which are booked last minute but with amazing seats (courtesy of Penelope’s connections and slightly unorthodox know-how).

The others are still jealous after finding out she got you tickets to Hamilton, front row, with the original cast.

Dr Spencer Reid

You know Spencer is the kind of person that has a list of things the size of his arm that he’d love to do with you on a rare day off. 

You’d probably have to negotiate with him to figure out which ones you could reasonably do in just 24 hours - and you try to find a balance between appeasing his interests and yours. 

For example, you don’t mind sitting through a Russian movie festival if afterwards he agrees to let you wander around your favourite bookshop and spend as long as you want exploring the shelves - without him critiquing or spoiling the endings before you even have a chance to read the blurb. 

If you also happened to let it slip that you'd never watched every single episode of Doctor Who that's ever been made, then you know your future days off will be spent marathoning on the couch. 

"I'm just saying that he's underrated as the Doctor as arguably the narratives of his episodes are far better developed and reflect the point of the show, which is that the Doctor isn't perfect but rather a time-travelling refugee who acts as a healer, counsellor, and protector of the universe. It's why he calls himself 'The Doctor' ..."

He always looks so adorable when he gets excited about something he loves. It's hard not to fall in love with him all over again.

Apart from watching TV, you both also love spending days off on that couch, curled up together, reading your way through the stack of books you both had in your never ending ‘TBR’ pile. 

Spencer would love listening to you discuss whatever you're reading, doing his best to memorise the characters, plots, and your thoughts on both. It's the least he can do when you listen so patiently every time he starts rambling on about whatever his latest hyper-fixation is.

"Can I... can I borrow that when you're finished? I'm now curious - just don't tell the others, ok?"

Masterlist

[romanscool]

maxiel kith (kiss) prompt 27 on a place of insecurity if you want :))

#27: a kiss on a place of insecurity - maxiel: sfw

hi anon!! thanks sooo much for this prompt, I've actually giggled when seeing it cause I've been wanting to write it so bad haha

I hope this is what you had in mind when you asked for me this!

anyways, enjoy <33

->

Max had seemed down all morning. It’s not usual for him to be this way.

Actually, he’s generally pretty open about everything. Daniel likes to jokes that he literally wears his emotions on his face like his goddamn Red Pull polos and skinny jeans, to which Max always answers, in usual Max manor, ‘fuck off.’

Classy. And, open. 

But now, Max is weirdly backing up. He’s hiding and holding his own hands under said disgusting Red Pull polo merch, and his socked to ankle feet are together in a way to bend his knees and make him look like he’s those insects that roll up. Rounding up. He looks seventeen again with a little baby fat still hanging to his face, red round splotches of teenageness like constellations on his jaw. He looks young, Daniel realizes. 

Except not the right young version of Max. Young Max was brash. He was frank, and frankly blunt, and Daniel liked that about him. He doesn’t really like that weird dystopic version of young Max that has him belittling himself on his own sofa, cat on his lap burying his hidden hands under its little fur body. Daniel still can’t decipher Sassy from Jimmy, but right now it doesn’t seem like it matters. 

« Hey, Maxy what’s going on? » 

Max turns to him, chin propped on his chest. Daniel hears the familiar ‘ding!’ of the lunch that’s been cooking in the oven for the past hour signaling it’s done. He ignores it when he sees Max grimace. 

Daniel circles round the sofa and sits by Max’s feet. He takes one and puts it on his lap, silently asking Max if it’s fine with him. Max doesn’t answer. Daniel takes it as a yes, and holds Max’s other ankle just above the sock, which he accidentally pulls down a little as he sets Max’s left foot with the other one. Daniel has always liked that about Max, too. How pliable he always was. He’s a little tense, Daniel can see it in the twitch of the muscle in his shin, but he still lets Daniel in a little. 

Daniel pulls the sock back up and asks, « Wanna tell me what’s been on your mind this morning? ». He’s gentle with it, too, setting what he hopes to be a comforting hand on Max’s leg, where the peach fuzz sits so pretty and is the perfect amount of rough under Daniel’s hand scar. 

Daniel tries to find an answer in the way Max’s brows furrow, and usually he does, but apparently nothing about Max makes sense today. 

Max takes out his hand from his t-shirt in one quick motion, pulling the hem of it over his sleep-shorts over it as soon as he’s done. Daniel can’t even stop to stare at Max’s little trail of hair there. He doesn’t wonder why he’s a little disappointed at that, because he knows. He’s been with Max long enough to know he’s crazy about anything Max. Even the weird shit. 

« There’s nothing, Daniel. » Max answers, but. Daniel doesn’t believe him. He doesn’t. Not when Max gives him this awkward little smile that barely lifts the corner of his mouth, the one that doesn’t make his eye crinkle and soft, soft, soft. 

Daniel shakes his head. His hand goes up Max’s thigh on its own. « Nah, don’t believe you. » When it reaches the bottom of Max’s shorts, it stops and goes back down. Leaves little goosebumps in its trail. « Tell me what it is, » He sees Max opens his mouth, and can sense it in the air that Max is about to say one of those PR-friendly answers the team has taught him to say when he doesn’t want to comment on something but has to, so Daniel stops him, « also, yeah, no, none of that please. » He keeps his tone light, sing-song-y and all high pitched on the ‘please’ to drag the truth out of Max. It’s been a while since he’s had to do that. 

« No, it’s just-, » Max stops for a second, and Daniel relishes in the dutch accent peeking out during the ’s’s, making them sounds like little waves that never crash on Monaco’s shore. « It is stupid, really. »

« Nothing’s stupid. » Daniel says, and he sees Max kind of pouts and the expression on his face is back to very much translating ‘fuck off’ but Daniel brushes it off, though he’s glad Max is starting to open up a little. Crack like his voice used to do in the early years of his career. « No, nothing’s stupid, Maxy. ’Specially if you get all grumpy like that. » 

Max’s lips turns just the smallest turn upwards and Daniel wants to kiss them. « You always say I am grumpy in the mornings. » 

Daniel giggles, because it’s true, Max is always grumpy in the morning, and Daniel does have an habit of pointing it out. 

« Yeah, you are. » Daniel says it so fond he’s worried for a split second if maybe it’s too much, but Max doesn’t say anything about it, just has to weird downturn smile plastered on his face that makes his chin wrinkle slightly, and Daniel’s hand seems to think that’s enough of a reason to allow itself to go further up Max’s shorts. « It’s not that this morning, though. » 

Daniel hears Max take in a short breath more than he sees it, because he’s following his tattooed hand closely, gaze fixated on it, so much that he has to tear his eyes from it to see Max’s flush spreading just below this awful navy polo. 

« So, you gonna tell me what it is? » Daniel adds a small smile of his own, just for good measure, just to really relax Max. 

He sees his shoulder slump a little and Sassy-or-Jimmy stretches on his chest and claws at his collarbone slightly. Max goes to pet her-slash-him, but the cat gets frightened and runs away quickly. Jimmy, then. Daniel feels his hand bob up and down a few times as Max chuckle. Feels fucking amazing.

« It is stupid, Daniel. » Max says it like a warning, but it’s hard to find it convincing when his furrowed brows ease just slightly, and his bottom lip is a little tucked between two rows of perfect straight teeth. 

Daniel shakes his head and takes Max’s feet from his lap and sets them back on the sofa. He climbs slowly between them and sets his head on Max’s clothed thigh, just a little higher than he’s allowed his hand to roam up to. « Tell me, baby. » 

« It has been a while since the last race. » 

And, yeah, that’s true. Just a couple month ago, Abu Dhabi happened and Max got out of the car for the last time of 2024, fourth championship tucked away safely in his pocket and a big smile on his face. 

Daniel remembers it very clearly. Remembers the sweat pouring down Max’s forehead, meddling with the champagne that Lando showered him with, even though he was the one that had won the race. He remembers the white fabric of his fireproofs turned a little yellow and transparent during the podium, remembers the way he could almost do more than imagine Max’s pinkish nipple under them. Daniel wanted to lick then, and he wants to lick now, nipples under Red Bull merch that Max has been wearing for two days straight. Disgusting and sweaty, just as he had been then.

« Yeah, and? » 

Max flushes again, probably from the long time Daniel took to answer him, probably because he remembers that night too, the hotel and the morning. « It’s been a while since the last race, Daniel. » Max says, again, parrots, really, with that insisting look on his face that Max wears when he’s trying to Make Daniel understand something. 

Daniel doesn’t understand. « Yeah, I got that. Two months, it’s been Maxy. » He tries to think harder, to put the pieces together, and he suddenly gets an idea, « You miss it? Racing? » 

« No, this is not, » Max sighs, and intertwines his hand on his belly. The fabric of his t-shirt ruffles and Daniel can just see the skin above Max’s boxer’s waistband. « I mean, I have been in vacation for too long. There is, uh-, » Max closes his eyes and the back of his head hits the arm of the sofa, « Photos. On the internet. » 

What. « I don’t get it, Maxy. » Daniel picks up his hand from where it’s been staying on Max’s thigh and starts to trace that little band of skin. Pale and so so pretty. 

« Daniel, just, » Max sighs again, long and desperate. « I have been letting myself go a little. »

Daniel feels himself frowning. His cheeks smushing up against Max’s sleep-shorts. « Well, yeah. It’s winter break, Max, what the hell you gonna do? » 

« Train. » Max swallows and pulls down the t-shirt way more than it should be, « Control myself, maybe. »

And that’s such a weird thing to hear Max saying that, because he’s never been that way. Self-conscious. He’s never been the one to-, « Are you quoting the media, Max? ‘Cause if you are, and I mean it, what the fuck. » 

Max suddenly gets this strange look of impeding doom fall on his face, melting all his feature in the wrong way, « You have seen it, too, then. » 

Daniel lifts his head for Max’s lap and sits on his knees between Max’s legs. « No, no, I haven’t-, Max, you-, » He sighs and leans down to kiss him. Just a quick one, to make his brain stop screaming ‘what, when, why, who, why’, « The media all say shit. You know that, they don’t-, they don’t fucking speak the truth. Like, ever. » 

Because Daniel has seen the fucking articles, in a way. He’s seen shit talk about the way Max’s chest looks at the beach, or how his t-shirt hugs him tighter than it used to on his lower belly, on his shoulders, his arms. How there’s more of him. Daniel has seen this shit and thanked the fucking world that Max looks like this, that there is indeed more of Max, more to love, to fucking worship and touch, swallow, bite into.

He hadn’t thought for a fucking second that what those dumb reporters had said was true. He doesn’t understand how Max could, either. 

« I know, Daniel, I know that. » Max sighs, and Daniel tries to search for the smallest hint of something that isn’t shame in Max’s eyes but he can’t find it, so he has to listen to Max say, «  It is only that, I’m starting to see it. »

And Daniel wants to scream, throw middle fingers at all the fucking people who make a living on hating Max fucking Verstappen, four times F1 world champion, biggest dork on the planet, and perfect, perfect, perfect man. 

The only thing that Daniel can say is, « Maxy, » and Max doesn’t seem to understand, eyebrows together and bottom lip slightly jutting out, so Daniel makes him understand. Makes him see himself like Daniel sees him. 

Daniel climbs between Max’s legs again, and takes hold of Max’s waist. It’s such a perfect fit too, the curve of it allowing Daniel’s palm to slot just right, to hold and dig his fingertips in the flesh that has Daniel’s brain think crazy thoughts. Daniel leans down, rubbing soft circles on Max’s waist and starts to kiss over the fabric of his polo. Just soft pecks of fucking gentleness that Daniel wishes Max had for himself. He curses the world as he starts working up Max’s chest, landing on his neck. 

« Daniel, » He hears Max whisper, but Daniel acts like he didn’t hear it. He continues his way up, planting his lips on Max’s jaw, where pebbles of pimples used to sit, now replaced by awkward and unevenly shaved stubble, and Daniel is glad for it, glad for the slight itches he gets on his mouth as he kisses there and higher, on Max’s ears and cheekbones, going left to land on his eyebrows and eyes, which Max closes, bracing for Daniel’s lips on them. 

Daniel kisses there as he starts working his hands up Max’s t-shirt, whispering a small, « this okay? » centimeters away from Max’s lips, getting a silent nod and a hot breath on his own mouth that has his fingers dig on Max’s hips. He pulls away for a second and takes Max’s shirt off, Max’s back hitting the sofa again in a dull thud that has him giggling and Daniel wish he could record the sound and listen to it every fucking hour of the fucking day.

Daniel kisses Max a small kiss on the lips, one that has Max whining a little, a small sound in the back of the throat he always does to ask Daniel to do something again, whether it’s pass a hand through his hair of put toothpaste on his toothbrush, because Max is weird and has decided when he was a kid that using three times the amount of toothpaste required was a good idea. 

Daniel kisses and kisses down again, hands still rubbing soft circles on Max’s waist. He kisses between his pecs to his belly button. He finally gets to see the little trail of dark dirty blond hair that half-hides under Max’s boxers. He leaves it hidden but doesn’t forget to plant kisses on top of the weirdly smooth material of Max’s shorts. 

Max giggles, and Daniel feels it under his fingertips, feels it under his breath and in his ears, tingles all the way to his toes that are starting to cramp up. « I get it, Daniel, please I-, » 

« Ticklish? » Daniel teases, plants another kiss just under the bare skin he’s kissed countless times, just above what he doesn’t want to think about right now, because this isn’t about that.

« Kinda. » Max’s voice cracks and Daniel thinks he’s just heard the fucking world speak to him. « You’re so fucking weird, Daniel. » 

Yeah, Daniel thinks. So fucking weird. « Obsessed, too, maybe. » Daniel knows his voice is breathy, but he doesn’t really care. Max is open, bare skin all over the leather sofa, clammy hands far, far from his stomach, and Daniel’s been allowed to kiss him better. That’s like a fucking victory.

I've started to post those on ao3 so please check them out!

don't hesitate to leave a comment/ask/tag for other (kiss or non kiss) prompts! I always appreciate them a lot <33

lots of love, and see you in the next one!

[newtonsheffield]

The Wimbledon AU was truly one of a kind. Your sports fics are so very good.

Question for you friend - how does Anthony show his support for Kate in moments where she's overwhelmed/panics/on the verge of a meltdown?

Would love to see it!

Hilarious as I am famously bad at sports. I nearly injured a teacher with a javelin in high school.

Anyway,

I think when it comes down to it Anthony has to do very little. Just him being with Kate calms her down, helps her feel less alone in all of this.

He can tell when Kate gets too stressed. He can hear it in her voice, recognizes it in the set of her shoulders when they video call. And he knows how hard it is for Kate to talk about it, to be vulnerable with him even if she’s getting better at it.

Anthony always makes sure that he’s home when Kate gets home from therapy as well. He makes sure he’s sat in the sofa with Newton, ready to be present for her because he knows she’d never say it but coming home to an empty house when she’s just unpacked her deepest insecurities is the last thing she wants.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not yet.” Kate said quietly, her fingers tugging at the hem of his polo.

“Should I run the bath?”

“Please.”

He’d sit in the bath with her for hours, if that’s what she wanted, her head against his chest, the warm water moving gently with the pressure from the jets, the scent of the soap and bath oil hanging in the air.

“I love you.”

It still feels so nice to hear it. Even though she’s said it hundreds of times since the time she hadn’t been able to. Anthony felt his eyes flutter closed as he took a deep breath, kissing her neck gently.

“Yeah, I love you too.”

“Can you come with me?” Kate swallowed, “I know I’m leaving on Sunday and you were supposed to come in a few weeks but-”

“But I have a break before the new term starts so if you need me, then I’ll be there.”

She relaxed against him, her fingers intertwined with his pressed against her stomach. “I can tell you’re really disappointed about missing out on weeks of phone sex.”

Anthony chuckled, “Eh, I’ll find a way to make do.”

[katakosmos]

i love your evan SO MUCH. in my mind he’s become his own fun little destructive entity and i need him. badly. i do fear he may be a gym bro…which brings me to my question. what are the gang doing at the olympics (basically, which of them is stephen and which of them is the muffin man. and why.) LOVE!

thank you 🥰 i love my evan too 🥰 probably cause i know he could destroy me 🥰

(yes he'd be a gym bro)

btw. there are too many sports in the olympics for me to even remotely know what they consist of, so i won't get into things that are too strange (and so i don't know if i'll be able to give all the characters a sport 😭)

james for me is a world pole vault champion. i think the reason he loves quidditch is because he loves flying, not kicking a ball into three circles. so no football for him. in a fic that i started writing (but, obviously, never finished) lily and james met on an athletics field cause lily practiced hammer throw. in a domestic context, james would reach high shelves while lily assembles furniture and lifts the sofa when james loses something underneath it. they go to the olympics together and kiss from the stands.

(honorable mention to that french guy who knocked over the pole with his dick. james coded.)

sirius fencing makes sense, and he's so good at it that you can't take your eyes off him. sirius' fencing is a declaration of love, it hypnotizes you, it moves you. it's not an equal fight: there's no chance, he has to win because he brings fencing to a poetic and emotional level. he plays a whole different sport

...but i think he'd hate sweating under his mask and getting his hair greasy. LMAO.

peter fits in rugby but personally i think he would slay in a gymnastics competition: he does perfect floor routines. before a competition he needs silence and concentration, so he side-eyes anyone who speaks to him. he's so scary that everyone's afraid of him.

dorcas practices martial arts, and i can see her doing kung fu, which is very choreographic and acrobatic. but unfortunately, kung fu is not in the olympics and therefore... she would probably do gymnastics too. but mhmmmmm, it's not really her vibe.

mary runs. no questions and no explanations. and she wins the gold medal with thick eyelashes and a 5cm long set of nails. she can also run on heels. this woman is not to be underestimated.

barty is a shooter. and he absolutely loves to terrify people by saying he has a gun. he's precise, he has a lot of fun and he thinks his professional glasses are very, very cool. buttt, when he doesn't have a clear advantage he gets angry and starts losing, so he never won a medal. he's famous for his little smirk every time he hits the bullseye, and people think he's very hot.

marlene would either do the best known sport in the world (football) or the most unknown one (underwater hockey). so let's put them together: water polo. if i'm honest though marlene doesn't have a personality in my head so i don't know 😭

pandora maybe diving? she's very good at it but she always comes second behind the chinese athlete, and this makes her furious. she smiles at her friendly when in reality she wants to drown her.

now remus, regulus and evan... but i think regulus would compete in figure ice skating (he is very graceful but also sharp and fast), and evan would be a hockey player (for obvious reasons), but these are winter olympics' sports.

remus on the other hand, i have no idea what sport he could do. i'd love to see him play tennis, but it's too tiring. he wants something messy, fast and where he doesn't have to move too much. if there was a sport like this he'd be world champion, but he's probably still looking for it. for now he has to settle for long jump (james forced him to try but he hates it).

now... i have a personal beef with tiktok because of that american guy like tell me if you hate me ok. but stephen is 100000% xenophilius like: he sleeps for all the competition, completely unaware of what anxiety is, then he wakes up to do just one thing and does it perfectly. this is xeno right here.

but i have no idea which of them could be the muffin man.

[collectivecloseness]

Giving Steve a blowjob because he’s such a good boyfriend

Fun fact, I was literally listening to the gimme more Slayyyter remix as this came in, and very true

Steve Harrington x reader

Steve sighs not out of exhaustion, but peace, as he finally gets home. Polo shirt spritzed with cologne as he closed up shop, even though you swore to him you loved the smell of his sweat too, in a weird way. The way you’d nuzzle his neck after a day of work may days made him think you didn’t mind the combination though. The silver ribbon of a stores glossed card bag, swinging in the crook of his fingers, as he unlocked the front door.

You sit up on the sofa when you hear the doorknob turning, running up to Steve as he smiles eased at you. “Hey baby.” He throws his keys into the bowl, on top of the drawers in his hallway. In the big house his parents didn’t really come back to anymore, and that he was much happier living with you in.

You don’t say anything as his car keys clatter. Instead your hands go to Steve’s hips. Pulling at the hem of his jeans, not quite enough to pull them down, but dangerously straining, as your thumbs slip under the material, rubbing against his warm hip bones.

Steve does a double take from the chest of drawers, looking at you with a mollified ‘woah’ expression. Until you started moving forwards. Steve’s eyes flutter as you kissed him. It was a wetter kiss than he expected, definitely more drawn out by you. He was surprised, but of course into it. It was only a small kiss, but his eyes slipped shut as he kissed you back, feeling how your wet lips slotted between his thick ones, creating a little bit of sound in the quiet home. One hand managed to get to the small of your back, even though the kiss only lasted a short amount of time, but it still made him think, since he was so surprised. Where was this going? Maybe you were just teasing him, playing around?

But no.

You got on your knees the second you’d given Steve his kiss hello. Slowly positioning yourself up on them, as you tilted your head up, gently bouncing your chin against his midriff.

“Woah. Baby.” Steve said stupefied, his hands going for your shoulders as you went for the button of his pants. He was already having to hold himself up. But then you looked up at him with your hooded eyes, and Steve felt his heart rate spiking.

“I missed you.” You said simply, popping the button from his pants as you watch your boyfriend try not to gasp, cute, and instead feel his hands gently squeezing you. “I missed you too sweetheart.” He relayed sweetly.

You start to unzip him. Hands soothing over his thighs after his long day, making you really want to massage them for him. You give them a hungry squeeze, finishing up with his zip when you hear your boyfriend above.

Steve gives you a bashful smile as he looks down at you. Legs tingling, but he holds up his bag with the gift paper wrapping poking out from the sides, dangling it from his hands since he hadn’t had the chance to put it down yet. “I uh, I got you something.” His voice was just a little higher, a breathy laugh leaving his lips as he shows you the logo of the bag.

A bright smile pushed its way onto your face, looking up at him with a new sparkle in your eyes. “Really?” You asked warmly. Steve always made you so happy.

Steve nodded, crooked smile mixing with a lick of his lips. Swallowing, he asked “Uh. Do you wanna look at it now, or?”

Steve went into this shop with you all the time. And you’d bought a top that was similar to this, from a different place last week. Steve was really good at learning what kinda clothes you like, getting into your mind on how you view them. He hoped you liked it.

“I wanna greet you first. I’ve been waiting for you all day.” You relay lustfully. Taking the bag gently out of his hands, at the same time Steve goes to try and place it around you somewhere, finally setting it down. You kiss the heel of his hand, before playing your fingers up the rest of it, bringing both of yours back to pulling his pants down his sweet ass just a little more.

“Oh-h, okay.” Steve stammers a bit, before gasping. Tilting his head back as your hand palms him through his underwear.

You loved the way his Adam’s apple bobs whenever he strains like this, it was infinitely hot. Your eyes stared voyeuristically at it, as you rubbed him.

With a sigh, Steve became more composed. Feeling you start to grope him down there, really got his blood rushing now. His mindset clearing to really wanting you now. His love. His hand sifts tenderly through your hair, reaching past your ear and stroking through it, as he rumbles to you “Okay baby.”

Steve felt his mind and body washing over with the moment, as he looked down at you. Sitting on your knees for him, and palming him, with a look in your eyes that he knew was the exact same as his. Eyes darker, and filled with carnality. Steve holds your cheek, hand set in place on your warm skin, and you look up at him again. You know he loves when you do that. You peer right up at Steve’s set, and lascivious face, as you lick a stripe over his underwear

[octuscle]

Hello, Chronivac support? This is the first time I am using your app and I am not sure how to set the right settings, I hope you can help me. You see, I have a boyfriend who is submissive, and I am the dom of the 2. Even if I am not very dominating and sometimes I just play along to feed his submissivemeness, I thought it was enough for him and that he liked it... but now I realize I was wrong.

The other day he heft his laptop on the table, the incognito browser was open and I could see he had been watching pics and videos of what I would call... real doms. Tough guys, cigar smoking guys, some wearing leather or rubber gear, some tattooed, some pierced... many different kind of doms, but none of them were like me, not a single one. I dont have the body or the attitude he wants...

But I have seen a lot of different guys in his laptop, so I don't know what does HE wants eiher. I thought that maybe this app can be set in a way that I am transformed in the kind of man he really wants to his side, the dom boyfriend, master or whatever he really wishes for... I want to set Chronivac so I am changed exactly into what he dessires, and every time he changes his mind about what he wants, I want to change along.

Can you help?

Ever heard of a werewolf? I could try something experimental with you. A weekend where your friend can live out all his fantasies. His darkest thoughts control your transformation. Not only yours, but his as well. You will not be aware that you are changing, you will spend the weekend like a werewolf. In a completely different body. But I will configure the transformation so that on Monday morning you can remember every single second. And then let's see if you want to do that more often.

Friday night. Your friend is sitting in front of the TV. You're cooking. Vegetarian vegetable curry. Suddenly it hits you like a blow. You throw the spoon into the pot. Fuck! What a pain this is. With one blow you hurl the cooking pot off the stove. A huge noise. A huge mess. Your friend comes running into the kitchen. You are breathing heavily. Your huge hairy chest rises and falls. You snap at your boyfriend that he should be a good slave and clean up the mess. Your friend looks at you with wide eyes. And gets down on his knees to wipe the floor. And while he does that, his body starts to twitch. The hair of the bitch becomes short, as you always shear them. And his beard grows. His polo shirt becomes a harness, his bare ass sticks out of his chaps. "Leave the dirt, lick my boots!" you command. "And then slowly work your way up with your tongue." Your kitchen changes. Your apartment is changing. There is a smell of sweat, tobacco and poppers in the air. Black, worn furniture, lots of leather, raw concrete. Instead of a TV, a St. Andrew's cross on the wall. And in the bedroom a cage for your boyfriend.

"Fuck yeah, that's my good boy," you grunt as your friend arrives at your stinky wet armpit. It's still early in the evening. There is still plenty of time before you fuck your boyfriend in the sling of the darkroom of your favorite bar. You take your cock out of your pants with your free hand. And then you push your boyfriend's head back down. The weekend starts promisingly.

48 hours of sex later you are sitting naked on the sofa. A cigar in your face. The face of your friend on your cock. Boy, did you have fun. And now a final climax. You shoot your load and your friend swallows greedily. Then you fall into a deep sleep. It's 04:00 in the morning when you wake up. The TV is on. Both of you have fallen asleep on the sofa. You lead your still half asleep friend to bed. And you realize that it was not a dream.

Fantastic inspiration by @eurobeef 

[jamdoughnutmagician]

Easing The Nerves (18+)

Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Word Count: 1,333

Summary:Steve finds his own special way to ease your nerves about meeting his parents for the first time.

Warnings:NSFW, 18+, Making Out, Teasing, Fingering. I think that's it but if you want anything else tagged let me know.

Masterlist

After spending the entire summer together you’d come to find out pretty early on in your relationship that Steve Harrington was actually an incredibly sweet, loving and attentive boyfriend. And as the warm summer months rolled into the crisp autumn days, your relationship with Steve continued to grow stronger each day, and with getting closer came new milestones in your relationship. 

Meeting the parents.

And so that brought you to where you were now. Sitting next to Steve inside in his car, parked just outside of the Harrington’s residence. A place you’d been many times before, a place in which you felt comfortable being, on the sofa, curled up next to your boyfriend with some random movie only serving as background noise to your inevitable make out session. 

However, you'd never been there whilst Mr. and Mrs. Harrington were there. 

And now you were about to meet them. For the first time. Ever.

Your sweaty palms flattered down the length of your skirt, a nervous energy bubbling inside you. What if they didn't like you? What if they never wanted you to see their son ever again? What if you embarrassed yourself?

“They’re gonna love you, Honey, don’t worry.” Steve reassures, his soft hazel brown eyes full of kindness, already knowing that your mind was running at a hundred miles an hour.

“But Steve…” you start, but he’s all too quick to silence your worries with a peck to your lips.

“They’re gonna love you, because I love you, alright?”

He could still sense your uneasy nerves, knowing that no matter how much he tried to ease your worries, your brain still panicked over every little thing.

“I just worry that your parents are going to think that I’m not good enough for you, Steve..” you sigh dejectedly. You were well aware of Steve’s family’s status around Hawkins. His father, being the big, successful businessman that he was, whilst his mother was a very well-respected member of the community. 

“Honey…” he whispers, “I promise you, they are never going to think that, chance are my mother’s going to think ‘what’s a nice girl like you doing with my son?’” Steve jokes trying to ease your nerves.

You give a small ‘hmph’ still not totally convinced by your boyfriend’s reasoning.

“What can I do to help calm your nerves, hm?”

You shake your head at his question.

“I know what I can do.” he smiles broadly, like he’s had the greatest idea in the world. “How ‘bout I help take the edge of things, get you off with my fingers? How does that sound, hm?”

“Steve we can’t.” you protest, despite how much you would love to entertain his idea. 

"Of course we can, Sweetheart." Steve reassures "My parents won't be expecting us for at least another fifteen minutes or so?" He says with a quick glance at his watch. "..and I know I can definitely get you off at least twice in that time."

You looked at Steve in his stupid polo-neck shirt and light wash denim jeans that were tightly stretched across the spread of his thick thighs. His hair in that perfectly imperfect mess that falls beautifully without him even trying. The golden haze of the evening’s slowly setting sun catching his eyes, illuminating them with honeyed sparkle.

He was always very hard to resist.

He offers up an open space on his lap and before you know it you’re jumping from your seat to sit in his lap in the driver’s seat.

“There she is, my pretty baby..” he smiles, cupping your face in one of his big strong hands, slowly stroking his thumb over the soft skin of your cheek.

You close your eyes and lean into his gentle touch, enjoying the feeling of how tender and sweet he was being with you. 

He begins kissing you. Starting with nothing more than a simple peck against your lips. Before beginning to trail his kisses down into the crook of your neck. 

You quickly pull him away from your neck and gently chastise him

"Hey! No hickeys! I've still got to look presentable when I meet your parents, Steve."

He smiles against your skin, sneaking in one more soft kiss into the crook of your neck before pulling away.

"Can you pull your skirt up for me, Honey?"

You do as you're asked, and bunch the material of your skirt in your hands, holding it out of the way for Steve.

Upon seeing your simple light blue cotton panties Steve can’t help the sly smirk that plays at his lips. His eyes linger on the slight dark wet patch on your panties.

“Just a few kisses and you’re wet already…that’s so cute baby..” he teases.

“Steve…please..” you whine.

“Alright sweetheart..”  he smiles before hooking his fingers into the elastic of your panties and pulling them aside just enough to reveal yourself to him.

Steve brings his hand up your mouth, holding two thick fingers up to your lips.

“Suck on my fingers for me, Honey, get ‘em nice and wet.”

You open your mouth, letting Steve slide his fingers between your lips. Your tongue swirls between the two digits, making them slick with spit.

He slowly pulls his fingers out of your mouth, a string of spit connecting his fingers and to your lips as he pulls away.

“Good girl..” he tells you, his voice low and full of seduction.

He takes his spit-slick fingers and begins to trail them down the length of your pussy, before sliding them inside you. His thick fingers filling you up and stretching you out so perfectly.

He begins to move his fingers in and and out of you, causing you to wriggle your hips to over his thighs. Desperate to feel that friction.

His thumb catches on your clit, rubbing it in tight circles as he watches your chest rise and fall with each little breathy moan you try to stifle.

“Come on, Honey..I know you need it…can feel how close you are..” he mumbles, placing kisses against your lips. “Can feel how tightly you’re squeezing my fingers.”

His fingers continue thrusting in and out of you, curling them upwards to press against that spot inside you that had you clinging to your boyfriend’s shoulder as he brought you towards a shuddering orgasm.

“That’s it baby..come for me…Want you to feel good, Honey..” he cooed in your ear so sweetly as you rode out the high of your orgasm, squeezing his hand between your thighs as you do. 

Steve slowly pulled his fingers from you, the evidence of his endeavours to please you clear on his fingers, glistening in the dimming light streaming through his car’s window. He then brings his fingers up to his lips, sucking into his mouth as he cleans them of your juices.

“Tastes so sweet, Honey,” he smiles broadly.

“You’re unbelievable, Steve.” you giggle at your boyfriend.

“What? Are you or are you not feeling more relaxed now?” He asked, raising his eyebrows at you.

You hated that he was right. He always knew just how to handle you.

“I’ll take that silence as a yes!” he says smugly, as if proud of himself. 

He quickly glances at his watch.

“Looks like it’s time to go meet my old folks. You ready, babe?” 

“Wait! Steve, what about you.. I mean your…” your eyes cast down to where his dick is bulging underneath the denim of his jeans.

"Oh don't worry about me, Honey…you can always return the favour in my room later." He says with a cheeky wink. 

You pull yourself together as best as you can as you made your way to the Harrington’s front door on shaky legs, you introduced yourself and they welcomed you into their home.

And if your lips were a bit more kiss-bitten than you would care to admit too, and Steve's hair was more ruffled than usual, then Mr. and Mrs. Harrington were very kind not to mention it.

Tags:

@itsfreakingbats @harringtons-cupid @penguinsandpotterheads @seatnights

[emoprincey]

It Must Come To An End (analoroceit)

I know it's the end of the week, but I finally managed to get something done for analoroceit week!! Thanks @loganisanobody for hosting this awesome event! This is actually the prequel to an au I've been planning for a while, the title is from Mamma Mia, you'll see why...

I used the day 2 prompt: Argument/taking sides.

Writing taglist: @iclaimedtobethebetterbard

It was ironic, Virgil thought, that he worried so much about everything, but he hadn’t seen this coming.

He and Janus had been arguing more often recently, over every conceivable thing. What to eat for dinner, the price of their dates. It didn’t help that Virgil had felt more irritable than usual lately, so even the clinking of Janus's spoon against his coffee mug was enough to set him on edge.

"Will you stop that?" Virgil snapped one morning, when the sound of Janus stirring his drink became too much to bear.

"Well, I'm sorry for stirring my coffee in my own kitchen," Janus shot back with a glare.

"You could at least be quieter about it, you're giving me a headache," Virgil grumbled.

"You're welcome to sleep at your own apartment if you wish," Janus said shortly.

The only reason Virgil had stayed at Janus's last night was because they'd finally managed to schedule a date with both Roman and Logan, and afterwards the four of them had curled up in Janus's king-sized bed. It would've been nice, if Janus didn't keep complaining about Virgil’s cold elbows poking him, and Virgil himself wasn't plagued with waves of nausea throughout the night.

Virgil was about to retort, but he was interrupted.

"Everything alright?" Roman's voice came from the doorway. He was leaning sleepily against the doorframe, looking gorgeous in the baggy white T-shirt he'd slept in, with his hair tousled and falling into his eyes.

Virgil momentarily forgot about his annoyance, until Janus spoke again.

"It's fine, Virgil is just feeling a little tired." His tone was smooth, as if nothing was amiss between the two of them.

Roman didn't seem to notice anything was off, because he kissed Janus's cheek before he walked over to massage Virgil’s shoulders.

"How are you feeling, love? Perhaps we could get Logan to give you a proper massage later."

Virgil sighed, relaxing into his touch. "I'd like that. Where is he, anyway? It's not like him to be the last one up."

Roman shrugged. "Maybe he partied a little too hard last night and needs to sleep it off."

Virgil snickered. They'd only been out to a restaurant, and he doubted the singular glass of wine Logan had would be enough to bother him.

"I can assure you, I am not hungover in the slightest," Logan said, walking into the kitchen already dressed in a black polo shirt and trousers from the small supply of clothes he kept at Janus's place. He gave Roman a look of disapproval and headed over to the fridge. "I simply wanted to get dressed before breakfast."

Roman just chuckled and made his way over to Logan. He kissed him sweetly and Logan immediately melted into it.

Virgil noticed Janus watching the two of them with a soft expression, and sent a smile in his direction. No matter how much the two of them fought, they both loved their boyfriends. Virgil hoped that whatever happened between him and Janus wouldn't end up hurting either of them.

-

The end had still come as a shock. When Janus said they should break up, Virgil had stared at him in silence for a few moments, unsure how to respond.

The next few days were rough. Virgil stayed at his own apartment, and barely responded to any of Roman or Logan's texts. He was just glad the two of them weren't breaking up with him as well.

He was sitting on the sofa when he heard a knock at his door. The TV was on so his apartment wouldn't feel too silent, but he had the volume too low to actually listen to what the hosts of whatever boring talkshow were saying as he scrolled through Tumblr on his phone.

When Virgil opened his door, his eyes widened in surprise. He'd known that one of his boyfriends would probably want to visit him soon, but he hadn’t expected this. Roman stood there, looking devastated. His hair was messed up, and his face was blotchy with tear-stains.

"I just broke up with Janus," Roman said.

"Oh," was all Virgil said, before he wrapped Roman in his arms. Roman crumpled into the hug, as Virgil was the only thing keeping him standing, and sobbed into his shoulder.

Once Roman calmed down a little bit, Virgil guided him inside and put the kettle on to make Roman's favourite herbal tea.

"Are you okay?" Roman asked Virgil when he sat down, which was absurd because Roman had been the one crying into his shoulder just a moment ago. The last thing he should be doing was worrying about Virgil.

Virgil just shrugged. "I didn't mean to make you choose me over him," he said quietly, dipping his head.

Roman sighed, then leaned over to press a kiss to the side of Virgil’s head. "You didn't make me do anything. I was mad at him for the way he treated you, but I made my own decision. Besides... me and Janus have been fighting for a while now."

"Oh?" Virgil raised his head slightly.

"Yeah," Roman said. "We tried to tone it down when you and Lo were around, but he's really been getting on my nerves, and I know I've been getting on his."

Virgil felt bile rise up in his throat, though he was sure it wasn't at the statement.

It must've shown on his face, because Roman looked at him with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just feeling a little sick, is all," Virgil said.

"Do you need to go to a doctor?" Roman asked.

"No, I'll be fine," Virgil said. "It'll pass."

-

Virgil paced around his small bathroom. He was sure he was fine. He'd just been feeling a bit under the weather recently, there was no way-

But it was best to be sure.

He couldn’t bring himself to glance at the pregnancy test on the counter. After everything that had happened with Janus, the last thing he needed was something else to worry about.

Finally, he convinced himself to look down and check the result.

"Shit."

[audriel]

fourteen

Why is Fang Rui Chinese Glory Team number 14?

This is a QZGS Secret Santa gift for En (empatbelas) to which their two of their prompts are combined into interaction between China Glory Team members and something heart-warming, involving Ye Xiu, Yu Wenzhou and Fang Rui. Thank you @gloryproalliance for this event.

Also published in AO3

Afterwards, the meeting was over, and everyone left. No one lingered around to talk to Ye Xiu, not even Fang Rui.

Fang Rui leaves the room with the others. However, he makes no move to join them or to head to his designated room in the training center. Instead, he lingers by the door with his head bowed looking at the phone in his hand. Only when he receives confirmation on his screen, he starts moving. Arriving at his destination, he only knocks on the door once before barging in. 

“Yo, Wenzhou.” Fang Rui greets the owner of the room casually. “Or is it Captain now?”

Yu Wenzhou is seated comfortably on the sofa in the middle of the spacious room. His Blue Rain jacket was already discarded, leaving him in a short-sleeved polo shirt, with open notebook and laptop on the coffee table in front of him. 

The captain of the national team chuckles, much too used to Fang Rui barging into his room back in their Blue Rain training camp days. “Just call me like you usually do or I’ll think you have ulterior motives.”

“What, me? What ulterior motives would I have? Look at my sincere eyes.” Fang Rui feigns a hurt expression. Yu Wenzhou knows better than to take him seriously.

“Is there a particular reason you want to talk to me without Shaotian present?” Yu Wenzhou raises an elegant eyebrow, not losing his amused smile at Fang Rui’s familiar antics. Fang Rui inwardly marvels at the ability. He himself can never quite pull it off. 

“Eh, you know Shaotian. He has his heart in the right place, but he’s not exactly subtle.” Fang Rui carelessly throws himself on the sofa across Yu Wenzhou, picking up a pen from the table to play with.

“Is this about Senior Ye?” Yu Wenzhou guesses.

“Man, are you sure you’re not a mind reader?” Fang Rui doesn’t hide his surprise at being seen through. However, having the brightest minds (and dirty-hearted tacticians) in the Alliance as his long-time friend and his captain in the past season, Fang Rui easily shrugged it off.

“I just know you and Shaotian.” Yu Wenzhou smiles. 

Fang Rui knows that Yu Wenzhou is right. It’s one of the reasons why he and Huang Shaotian get along so well. They care about people, particularly the ones considered as theirs. They can be loyal to a fault. 

Fang Rui’s futile attempts in keeping Lin Jingyan in Wind Howl is similar to Huang Shaotian’s strong reaction towards Yu Feng’s transfer to Hundred Blossoms. However, ultimately rationale kicked in and Fang Rui was able to give his blessings when his old captain transferred to Tyranny and managed to keep in touch with him. Huang Shaotian? Not so much. 

He even heard from Zheng Xuan that the moment Wind Howl confirmed the news that he was leaving the team, it took the whole Blue Rain to keep Huang Shaotian from giving Tang Hao and Wind Howl management a piece of his mind. That’s why Fang Rui chose to exclude Huang Shaotian in this conversation related to Ye Xiu. He knows they are close, closer than Huang Shaotian and himself. If Huang Shaotian reacted that way to his own situation, he can only imagine it’ll be worse when it comes to Ye Xiu.

“Old Ye can be sarcastic, but when he said that he was kicked out of the house before he could set up the bed, he meant that literally.” Fang Rui knows Yu Wenzhou catches on immediately, his gaze narrowed.

“The time is too short.” The time between the finals and the invitation to the players that make up the members of the national team is already short. It could only be shorter for Ye Xiu from the time he came home to the time he was chosen as team leader. Both of them glance at the numerous videos of other countries’ players they have copied. It was already organized based on the country and class. Even if Ye Xiu had help in collecting them, it is unlikely he merely looked through the VODs without editing and analyzing them one by one. 

As his (former) teammate, Fang Rui knows how much the finals, and that particular 6.5 second triple kill exhausted Ye Xiu. When he finally packed up and left Forest Park to go home, the former Happy Captain hadn't fully recovered. He can still recall his slouching figure as he stood by the entrance as he said his goodbyes to the team.

“I know you said as the team captain you didn’t have many responsibilities, and that team leader was the one with total authority over the team-”

“You want me to take some of the load off the team leader.” Yu Wenzhou continues his sentence knowingly.

“Well, yes but not quite.” Fang Rui waves his hand casually. “The thing with Old Ye is that once he’s given total authority as a team leader he will go above and beyond to make sure that nothing will disturb us, so that we can focus only on the games. He will take on everything on his own, not only dealing with all the officials, but also the press, on top of helping us with training and strategizing, while saying he won’t be playing since he’s only a substitute.”

“That sounds very much like Senior Ye.” Yu Wenzhou agrees, his expression grave as if the thought only occurs to him. He might be initially relieved when he found out his responsibilities weren’t as many as team leader’s and that the expert was Ye Xiu. If it was him, he would be more than capable in shouldering them and doing the job well.

However, Ye Xiu is an old player from the pioneering generation, and he had spent the later half of his professional years carrying a team that refused to cooperate with him and then building a team from scratch. Han Wenqing, the last of their generation, turned down the opportunity to stand on a higher stage due to his limited energy. 

Fang Rui knows what’s running in Yu Wenzhou’s mind and he cannot fault him for that. Honestly, team Happy is as bad as team Tiny Herb in their regard for their captain and core. The only difference is that they do not put him on a pedestal, so they do not fail to see all the painstaking efforts that Ye Xiu put into the team. Fang Rui himself has been vice captain and partner to a second generation pro player, so he knows to look beyond the calm, unaffected expression. In Ye Xiu’s case, it’s particularly challenging, because he’s too strong. He’s so strong, so powerful, that everything seems to come easily to him. If Fang Rui hasn’t been paying close attention, he will have fallen for the same mistake.

“And… Sis Mu brought Lord Grim.” Fang Rui found out when he asked Chen Guo before he left for Beijing. He leans forward, his elbows on his knees, his gaze on Yu Wenzhou. Having Ye Xiu and Lord Grim in the lineup and not having them play is a complete, utter blasphemy. This is China’s Number 1. Even his good brother Zhou Zekai is willing to concede about this.

“This is the grand stage. These are the world’s best players and best teams we’re up against. This might be the opportunity of a lifetime. We may never have a chance like this again.” 

The veterans surely won’t. 

It’s not just Ye Xiu, Zhang Jiale and Wang Jiexi are also among the last of their generations. The generations who have opened the path for the younger generations. The generations who have laid the foundation for them.

“Ye Xiu and Lord Grim. Don’t tell me you haven't thought about letting him play.” Yu Wenzhou smiles, Fang Rui can see the devious glint hidden well behind those eyes. The player and character that has caused headaches for the entire Alliance is now his teammate. He won’t be Yu Wenzhou if he misses such an opportunity.

“I've caught some loopholes we can take advantage of. I was about to discuss it with you since the rules and regulations are in English.” This is actually how Yu Wenzhou becomes his first friend in Blue Rain. Both of them have parents that only allowed them to become a professional player so long they received their high school diploma. English has been the subject Fang Rui is good at, while History has been Yu Wenzhou’s. 

It might be the reason why among the newcomers, Fang Rui was the quickest to get close to future captain of Blue Rain, he was immediately exposed to Yu Wenzhou’s quick wit and sharp intellect before his supposed handicap. And while personality wise Fang is better matched with Huang Shaotian, intelligence (read: cunning) wise, he is better matched with Yu Wenzhou. They used to discuss every opportunity to take advantage of, not limited to in-game mechanics.

“Good to see we’re on the same page.” Fang Rui grins, then stops. “With one condition though.”

“Huh?” Yu Wenzhou blinks in surprise.

“Don’t let the others know I can speak English fluently, or any other languages.” Fang Rui hastily adds, knowing to make it as airtight as possible in dealing with these dirty tacticians. “I just want to play games, I don’t want to translate for others.” Yu Wenzhou laughs at that. He can already imagine what happens if the others find out. For many of them, this is their first time going abroad, and for competitions, nonetheless. They are going to meet top players from other countries. They will definitely want to get to know them outside the matches and talk about Glory with them.

“Noted. Don’t worry, we’ll have team translators for that.” Yu Wenzhou assures Fang Rui. The General Administration of Sports working with Glory Pro Alliance have pretty much considered and prepared everything, fortunately. Before the official announcement of the World Invitationals were made, they were already looking for translators with expert knowledge in Glory.

“Thank God.” Fang Rui pauses, “are they people we know?”

“Guess.” Yu Wenzhou smiles.

“I think I know who they are. This is gonna be fun.” Fang Rui is delighted. 

***

When Fang Rui steps into the cafeteria of the training center, he isn’t surprised to see that almost every member of the Chinese Glory team has already been helping themselves to lunch. This time there’s only the muted colors of the Chinese Glory team uniform instead of the colorful ones of their original teams. 

Huang Shaotian has piled food on his plate while chattering with the staff. The youngest members of the team are not far behind. Fang Rui whistles in appreciation when he sees the veritable banquet on the table. There are dishes from all parts of the country. There should be no complaint of the food being not suitable for their tastes. The Glory Pro Alliance and the General Administration of Sports are sure to pull all the stops out for this Worlds Invitational. 

They would have settled down with their own plates and drinks with their choice of companions if it weren’t for loud protests of one chatterbox, complaining now that they are teammates they should sit together. Unsurprisingly, he gets the support of Captain Yu, and Team Leader Ye, who just goes along with it. So with little grumbling, they rearrange the tables so it becomes one long table.

Fang Rui picks the end of the table that’s the closest to the serving table, right across Huang Shaotian. They exchange grins when they realize they have the same thought. Before he can mention Blue Rain training camp, Fang Rui notices a shadow looming over him only to find it’s Zhou Zekai with a helpless expression. Quickly catching on, he scoots over and lets Zhou Zekai take the outermost seat. 

“Yo, what’s the Gunner King doing sitting with us?” Huang Shaotian asks.

“Getting away from his watchdog.” Fang Rui answers for Zhou Zekai. 

“Watchdog?” Huang Shaotian follows Fang Rui and Zhou Zekai’s line of sight to find Sun Xiang with an expression of a kicked puppy, wanting to be seated next to his captain, but losing his courage when he sees his seating partners. It seems he still has a working survival instinct. In the end, he sits next to Tang Hao. Huang Shaotian bursts into laughter. Fortunately, Fang Rui is quick to pull Zhou Zekai away, lest the most handsome person in the League gets sprayed with food.

“It’s Jiang.” Zhou Zekai sighs. Fang Rui doesn’t need further explanation, he’s fluent in Zhou Zekai. Samsara’s vice captain is rightfully worried of Zhou Zekai and asks for Sun Xiang to watch over their captain. However, Sun Xiang takes it too literally. Fang Rui saw the hilarious scene of Sun Xiang being kicked out of Zhou Zekai’s room. Well, not so much being kicked out, more like having the door slammed in front of him, when he insisted on following Zhou Zekai into the room. And it’s just the first day.

“Why don’t you ask for Little Jiang to be more specific in his instructions?” Fang Rui suggests. Zhou Zekai’s eyes light up, before dimming in doubt.

“Will it work?”

“The way he’s going, he’s probably going to follow you to the toilet too. Just tell him that.” Fang Rui raises an eyebrow, ignoring Huang Shaotian snickering in the background.

“Okay.” Zhou Zekai nods in determination. Now that’s out of the way, Fang Rui starts commentating on the dishes, which is enthusiastically corroborated by Huang Shaotian, even Zhou Zekai has an opinion or two. Zhang Jiale who overhears them, also joins in. Somehow the end of their table becomes a serious discussion of Chinese dishes, which eventually leads them to wonder whether there will be Chinese food abroad, which in turn makes them ask their leaders of the food and accommodation during World Invitationals. This brings the whole table into a discussion about how different competing outside their own country will be.

“I know it’s no different with what we’ve been doing, going away for matches, chasing victory after victory to get the championship. However, this is the first World Invitational...��� Xiao Shiqin trails off, but everyone knows exactly what he means. 

They cannot completely ignore the weight in that this is the first of its kind and not to mention the scale of the competition. They are representing their country, away in a foreign country, against foreign players, and they don’t even have a month to prepare themselves, working with former opponents instead of their own teammates. The competition ahead seems daunting.

“Don’t think about it too much.” Ye Xiu breaks the silence. “It’s still Glory. All you need is to win. ”

Fang Rui and Yu Wenzhou exchange looks over the table.

“Besides you have me as your team leader. What are you afraid of?” Ye Xiu is greeted with boos. 

While it is indeed reassuring to know that the team leader the Administration picked for them is indeed an expert, not merely a government official who knows nothing about Glory, it’s something else to openly acknowledge it right in front of Ye Xiu, whose ego needs no further boosting.

“Old Han is more reassuring than you.” Huang Shaotian jeers, just to be contrary.

“Truly, it’s a pity. I’d like to see the internet explode when they don’t only see Old Ye and Old Han, but also One Autumn Leaf and Desert Dust working together.” Zhang Jiale has the look of wanting to see the chaos. There are agreeing nods to his statement. They have all seen this happen in this season’s All Stars, and they remembered how long the silence lasted, followed by loud shouts in the Tyranny’s stadium when they discovered that the archenemies were put together in the same team. They have also seen the comments in the online forums and social media about the cooperation between the two alongside the numerous highlights from the team competition. The devil works hard, but the fans work harder.

“The internet will definitely explode when they find out Captain Han is not part of the national team.” Li Xuan adds in an afterthought.

“They’ll be definitely curious about who is taking his place in the team,” Chu Yunxiu is quick to grasp the opportunity. Fang Rui has overheard the exchange between her and Su Mucheng, and he can tell that Li Xuan regrets bringing it up when he had intentionally cut into the conversation before it could disturb the team’s atmosphere. Now, he has inadvertently brought it into everyone’s attention.

Fang Rui doesn’t fail to notice the underlying tension due to the statement. No one likes to be considered as a second choice, or to be questioned of their place in the team.

“Really? You gotta ask?” Fang Rui cuts in before the wild speculations can start. “Look at the numbers on our uniform.” Everyone looks at the number on their and others’ uniform in surprise, finally noticing that there’s significance in the number they wear.

“I’m number 14. If it’s based on the team, Captain Su is number 8. If it’s based on the year of debut, Little Zhou is number 3. So… who else can it be?” Fang Rui leans back on his seat, opening his arms wide to prominently display the number on his jacket uniform.

“Sun Xiang and Tang Hao of the same debut year are number 12 and 13, respectively.” Zhang Xinjie observes.

“I’m number 9 and Vice Captain is number 10.” Zhang Jiale checks the numbers of the Tyranny teammates.

“Senior Ye being number 1, Captain Yu and Captain Zhou being number 2 and 3 are reasonable.” Xiao Shiqin joins in.

“It’s still pretty random though.” Huang Shaotian frowns. “It just looks like the All Stars’ ranking.” And All Stars are based more on popularity rather than ability.

Fang Rui inwardly facepalms. Huang Shaotian is certainly perceptive, worthy of his name as the greatest opportunist of the League, but sometimes he just cannot read the room.

“Hello, have you forgotten that I didn’t even get into All Stars?” Fang Rui reminds them.

“Only this year.” Zhou Zekai protests.

“Because I’m no longer a Thief. I’m a rookie Qi Master.” Fang Rui purposefully uses the word rookie to emphasize his short experience as a Qi Master, championship title or no. The national team is undeniably the gathering of the Chinese top players, the most skilled and experienced in their class. Among these gods, Fang Rui’s Qi Master is the least skilled and experienced due to its conception in Season 10. That’s an indisputable fact.

“I know I’m such a downgrade from Old Han. Sorry that I cannot cow our opponents into submission with a glare.”

Either it is the image of the infamous wallet face or his own attempt at one–Fang Rui can only guess–snorts eventually gives way into full blown snickering and laughter. Before they know it, the tension disappears.

“Alright, alright.” Ye Xiu knocks on the table. “If you’re done gossiping like old ladies, finish your lunch. We’ll have a meeting in an hour. Bring all your notes, drinks and snacks. We won’t leave the room until we have a satisfactory plan for training and competition.” Those words immediately sober them up.

“As we all know, we are pressed for time, so we’d kindly ask for your cooperation.” Yu Wenzhou smiles apologetically. There’s not a single word of protest. They understand very well what is at stake and they’re willing to work hard to bring back the first world championship title to China.

Soon everyone finishes up their lunch and leaves the cafeteria, likely heading towards their rooms to get the aforementioned items or having an early discussion before the meeting itself. Fang Rui is among the last to leave. After he hands over the dirty dishes to the cafeteria staff, a familiar package of tong sui dessert suddenly appears next to him.

“Is this a bribe?” Fang Rui laughs, taking the free dessert regardless. The dessert brings back memories of Blue Rain training camp. Yu Wenzhou merely smiles warmly.

“Just a little gift.” Fang Rui raises his eyebrows, not believing his words at the slightest.

“Seriously. We’re teammates now… Though I won’t refuse gifts like these now and then,” Fang Rui shakes the cool package. “Now I gotta eat this before Huang Shao catches me. Don’t blame me if I’m late for the meeting.”

Yu Wenzhou chuckles, “Duly noted. See you later.”

“See ya.” Fang Rui waves his hand casually to his departing figure. In his periphery, he notices there’s still someone left in the cafeteria. When the staff hands him the requested spoon for the dessert, he asks for another item.

Fang Rui sets down the ashtray on the table by the open window. “You might need to cut down your cigarette intake, Old Ye. I heard it was pretty strict abroad.” He plops down unceremoniously in the seat across from Ye Xiu, who has a tablet in one hand and a burning cigarette in the other. It seems the cafeteria is one of the few places Ye Xiu can openly and freely smoke in the training center.

“Unfortunately,” Ye Xiu has a disdainful look on his face, making Fang Rui snicker. He breaks open the packaging and starts eating the tong sui.

“Fitting snack for the useless dim sum.” Ye Xiu doesn’t fail to mock him.

“Oh, shut up.” Fang Rui rolls his eyes. “This useless dim sum is quite helpful in maintaining the team’s atmosphere.”

“Are you fishing for compliments now?” Ye Xiu takes a drag out of his cigarette.

“Eh, I am just telling the truth.” Fang Rui shrugs. “I am Old Han’s replacement. No need for speculation.”

“Why so sure? Not many can boast successful class change and return to godhood. There’s definitely no one like you in the World Invitationals.”

“Yeah,” Fang Rui agrees only to refute. “But I’m also the master of playing dirty and a vulgar looking Qi Master. 

“It’s the first international Glory tournament. Even the government gets involved. Don’t tell me they don’t care about the country’s pride and image. That’s why the national team roster looks like the All Stars lineup. So…” Fang Rui drags it out purposefully. “How difficult is it to convince them to add me to the roster?”

Ye Xiu merely looks at him. He is silent for so long that Fang Rui thinks he will not say anything. His–and Yu Wenzhou’s–silence is enough of a confirmation for him, and truthfully, he doesn’t really care that much anyway. He ends up joining the national team after all. He is ready to give it up when Ye Xiu proves him wrong.

“They’ve already finalized the roster when I came aboard. By then the invitations were already sent out.” Fang Rui is taken aback. He doesn’t expect Ye Xiu to give information willingly. Even back in Happy, he tends to shoulder everything alone to the point of not appointing anyone as vice captain, not even Su Mucheng. It’s not that he won’t give an honest answer when asked, but when he thinks it’s unnecessary and it can be handled by himself, he usually won’t tell them anything.

Moreover, Fang Rui doesn’t miss the implication: Ye Xiu vouched for him. 

Ye Xiu picked him among all other top tier players to fill the vacancy left by Han Wenqing, especially when they are sorely lacking melee class. His Qi Master is a Fighter class, but it cannot compare with Strikers at close range.

It was the same in Happy.

Fang Rui had repeatedly underperformed during the playoffs. He felt like he should have already lost his position as core player of the team. However, Ye Xiu continued to send him up. 

He thought that it was because Happy had no other choice. The team mainly consists of young, inexperienced rookies, however amazing their growth is, and the other experienced player is pretty much an elderly grandpa.

Back then, the team’s–Ye Xiu’s–trust in him made him feel pressured. But now… 

It might be because he is now a champion himself. It might be because he has been standing next to Glory’s greatest god in his pursuit of the championship as his teammate.

Ye Xiu is uncompromising, unyielding when it comes to Glory, when it comes to chasing victory. When he fought to have Fang Rui in the national team, it can only mean that he thinks him, the dirty-playing Qi Master, is necessary for the Chinese Glory team to win.

“How stressful.” Yet all Fang Rui feels is calm. “Well then. I’ll make sure to live up to your expectations, Team Leader.” Fang Rui picks up the empty cup and stands up from his seat to leave. “I’ll see you in the meeting room later.”

“Fang Rui.” Fang Rui turns around in surprise, it’s rare for Ye Xiu to call his name with such seriousness.

“You never fail to live up to my expectations.”

***

Follow up author's note for this story here.

[elementary-my-dear-daddy]

Earning Your Keep - Chapter 3: "Being for the Benefit of Virgil Sanders"

Analogical (Virgil and Logan)

Read the previous chapter Here or on AO3

Chapter Summary: Logan attends an event for Virgil's charity and they share a drink.

Virgil was sitting on the edge of his sofa, biting his nails as he waited for Janus to finish up getting ready in his bathroom. The benefit dinner tonight started at 7, it was currently 5, but the both of them needed to be there around 5:30 to help set up and it took 20 minutes to get to the venue- wait, would an hour and a half be enough time to set up? What if there was traffic on the way or a problem with the venue. They were so going to be late!

“Janus, what is taking you so long?” Virgil called from the couch.

“Do not rush me, Virgil, I will just put my make-up on slower and unplug the iron that’s heating up just to make you suffer.” Janus called back, “Stop worrying, I’ve got everything under control. Honestly, we could show up late and things would be fine.”

Virgil got up and went to go give himself a once over in the mirror. He looked fine, but he was still worried about looking unprofessional or something. He kept pacing around until Janus was finally ready to leave.

“Alright, have you called a car for-” Janus asked, being interrupted by Virgil tugging him towards the elevator.

“Yes it’s been waiting downstairs for ten minutes now come on we’re late!”

~~~~~~~~~~

Logan was looking through his clothing, determining what to wear tonight. He wasn’t in this sort of predicament often since he rarely found himself going out to events frequently, but tonight was Virgil’s event. Luckily, he wasn’t scheduled for a shift tonight, allowing him to attend. He sifted through various shirts and polos with his job’s logos stitched on in some way, but nothing really compared to what he imagined would be a ‘business formal’ event. He settled on a clean blue button up with a tie to add a flair of professionalism and began to get ready.

After combing his hair and stuffing his phone, wallet, and keys into his pocket, he left his one-bedroom to leave for the event.

He took the bus since his car was currently in for repair. Fortunately, there was a stop not too far from the address the flyer provided, and once he reached it he only had to build up the nerve to enter the building.

Logan didn’t quite understand why he was so nervous. Perhaps it was due to the fact that he wouldn’t know anyone here except Virgil, and he was likely busy socializing already. It also could have been the type of people attending. Just from looking in from the sidewalk, he could see that he was obviously underdressed, but he owed it to Virgil to go, so he marched up to the entrance and waited to be allowed in.

There was a small line of attendees marking down their names in a guest book, which Logan assumed would be used to track the donations that Virgil had mentioned at lunch. When it was his turn, he neatly added his signature before entering the venue. It was a large space, with multiple small tables placed throughout and a stage towards the back. A bar stood off to the side, offering drinks to its patrons, as well as a long table that had a spread of snacks and sandwiches. He held off from beelining it over to the food, despite the fact he was limiting himself to two meals a day for budget reasons and his stomach growled with want. He stuck to a corner, merely observing the crowd and watching people mingle. That was, until a sharply dressed man walked up on stage and spoke into the microphone. 

“Evening, everyone. If you don’t already know me from working with the foundation, my name is Janus, and I’m one of the associate directors here. Thank you all for attending-”

Logan watched as the man gave a short speech about the charity and their upcoming projects. It was interesting to see what went on behind these sort of organizations, since he never really knew. It wasn’t long though before the man passed the mic off, however.

“We have one last interruption as our founder would like to say a few words, Virgil?” Janus looked to the stairs going up to the stage. Lo and behold, Virgil was making his way up them and towards the stand. He appeared in much more business-like attire, a black suit with a checkered purple tie. Logan couldn’t place why but seeing him in such a state made his stomach drop much like the last time he was dragged on a roller coaster.

“Um, hi. I’m V-virgil Sanders, the f-founder of the organization.” He stammered, “I just wanna say thanks for coming and have a good night. Thanks, um, yeah. Thanks.”

He quickly hurried down the stairs as scattered applause sounded throughout the room. They were quickly replaced by the low thrum of chatter that Logan heard when he first entered. He wanted to seek out Virgil, since he was the only person who he really knew here, so he scampered through the crowd to find him. He couldn't have gotten that far from the stage.

Once he was on the other side of the venue, he gazed over the area, trying to find the man who invited him. After a few minutes, he sighed and resigned himself to grab a quick drink and snack before heading out. This felt like his high school prom where he played the role of wallflower for the night. He turned to head to the bar, but didn’t see the figure blocking his way until it was too late and he bumped into them, spilling the drink they had in their hand over the both of them.

“Oh, I’m so sorry I-” Logan now saw that the figure was Virgil, “Virgil! Um, hello, I’m incredibly sorry, I didn’t see you-”

“No no, my bad I saw you and was trying to, sorry I-”

“We should probably find some napkins to-”

“Clean up.” They said in unison, causing both men to give a small laugh.

Virgil looked around, “Uh, the bar might have some napkins?”

The both of them took one of the stacks resting on the edge of the bar and began patting down the spilled liquid on their clothes. Virgil had the brunt of it, the drink staining his coat and tie.

“Again, Virgil, I’m sorry about all this. It was entirely my fault.” Logan said, throwing the soaked napkins into a nearby trash can.

“It’s really ok, I don’t really like this jacket anyway.” Virgil took it off and folded it over his arm, “Janus said I needed to look nice or something, but I’d have rather just come in a hoodie and jeans.”

“Oh, well you did succeed in looking nice.” Logan responded, not quite realizing that his words might have been taken in a more intimate sense until they’d already left his mouth. He blushed lightly, “I mean, as in formal, since the event called for this type of attire.”

Virgil smiled, “Right. Look, uh, this might be a shot in the dark but I was going to head out since I don’t really know anyone here. But I don’t wanna leave you stranded, unless you wanna stay! Then yeah stay here but I was gonna go home and change and you know, if you wanna come with or something…”

“Oh,” Logan was sort of taken aback at the sudden invite, “Um, are you certain? I don’t want to intrude-”

“No! No, I invited you so…” Virgil stared at the floor, not wanting to meet Logan’s eye’s in fear of rejection, “Just if you wanna.”

Logan gave it some thought before responding, “I don’t know, I rode the bus here and don’t know if there will be any stops close enough for me to walk to.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, I can get you a ride back.” Virgil added, “Wait, what happened to your car is it ok? Did something happen?”

Logan shook his head, “No, I used the money you gave me to fix it. It’s currently with a mechanic.”

“Oh… that’s great. I’m glad, but uh, did you wanna come with or not? You never answered the question.”

Logan bit his lip, “Well, I suppose, but I really do not want you to feel as though you’re obligated to.”

“I don’t, I promise.” Virgil offered with a smirk, “Now I kinda wanna split before I get too overwhelmed with how many people are here, c’mon.”

[taleasnewastime]

4. I wish it was easy to hate you

Summary: Stuck with the guy you wish you could hate, Hoseok.

Word count: 997

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None.

You throw another log on the fire, close the door and then watch through the glass to see if it catches. Opening the vent to let some air in, you try and encourage the fire a little.

Really, you’re just trying to look busy. The fire is fine, it’s been roaring for close to an hour now, heating the room up. Still, you fiddle and poke with it. Not wanting to turn to the room behind you. To the person sat in the room behind you.

“I don’t think that’s going out any time soon.”

The deep voice behind you makes you tense despite knowing they’re there. And though you know what he’s saying is true, the fire is set to be going for a while more, you still sit and watch it, unable or perhaps unwilling to leave your spot.

It’s not how you planned to spend your holiday, holed up in a cabin with Hoseok. He wasn’t even supposed to be here. A last-minute change meaning he was joining the friends holiday. Something you could possibly have gotten over if it wasn’t for your friend’s flight being cancelled.

Stuck, alone, with the man you’d rather not be around.

It’s not because you hate him. You wish it was that simple. It’s more that the last time you were alone together things happened between you, things that shouldn’t have happened, or more feelings that you shouldn’t feel started to bloom. You’re better alone, happy alone. Being with someone, caring for someone meant there was more potential for disaster. You’d seen it with your parents, had to live through that and know it’s not worth it.

For months you’ve tried to avoid him. Backed out of social events when you knew he was going. Deleted the messages he sent you. Unfollowed him on social media and scrolled past the friends posts with him in.

All of that careful planning for this to happen.

“Why don’t you just sit back and relax for a bit?” Hoseok tries again. “Enjoy the wine. You’ve not sat still since we got here.”

Yeah, because that would open up time for conversation, which could lead to questions, which might mean talking about that night and what happened. All of which sounds like a bad idea.

Still, he’s right, you can’t avoid him forever. There are only so many things you can do around this cabin too. You’re going to have to sit and talk to him at some point. Why not now. You can at least try and steer the conversation.

Turning you avoid his gaze as you head to the sofa unoccupied by him and sit down. The wine looks tempting but you’ve been avoiding it since Hoseok poured you a glass when you first arrived. That’s how this all started in the first place, alcohol, and you certainly don’t want that to happen again now.

“How have you been? It’s been what, five months since we last saw each other?”

You look over at him. He looks good, in his black polo top and grey jogging bottoms. His hair is dark and fluffy on his head and his smile is light. His eyes on you are dark with curiosity as if he’s trying to read every one of your secrets.

Sod it. You pick up the glass of wine and take a large gulp before forcing a smile onto your lips.

“I’ve been good, busy. Works hectic, but great. I like it.”

“I’m glad,” he says, eyes still boring into you. “Busy with work then?”

“Yep,” you’re quick to reply.

“Not trying to avoid me?”

You faulter, open then quickly close your mouth. The smirk on Hoseok’s face letting you know that your reaction has confirmed everything he thought. In your haste, you don’t think too hard about what you’re saying.

“Why would I be avoiding you?”

“You tell me.”

You keep your mouth clamped shut, unwilling to say anything more that might dig your hole bigger.

“I thought we both had a good time last we saw each other.”

Nope. Not talking about that. You glug another large mouthful of wine, nearly finishing the glass in preference.

“We should talk about it,” Hoseok’s voice becomes softer, his eyes brimming with concern.

“I need more wine,” you say instead, pushing to your feet and heading towards the kitchen.

“Why didn’t you reply to any of my messages?”

You take a deep breath in as you carry on your course to the counter that holds your wine. Pouring another large glass before setting it on the side.

“I know you’re scared, but can’t we just talk about this?”

You turn to see Hoseok stood a lot closer than you expected. You push yourself as far backwards as the counter will let you. Hard, cold granite digging into your back.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Disappointment laces his features. “Y/N …”

“No, Hoseok, we’re not talking about this.”

He takes a small step towards you, lessening the distance. “Why not?”

“Because …” you can smell him now. That clean, freshly laundered clothing scent. You still remember it, still associate it with him. It still never fails to take you back to that night.

“Because?” He whispers, taking another step towards you, his chest now inches from yours, his hands twitching to reach for you, his eyes searching your entire face.

Your throat is thick. You couldn’t answer him even if you could, because there is no reason apart from you being scared, scared that you like him too much, scared that he could have the power to hurt you. And what would he say to that?

Your treacherous eyes dip to his lips and you know he catches you. You watch as he leans in, his feet shuffling closer.

“Hoseok,” you whisper, his name sounding like a plea when you meant it as a warning. His lips touching yours make you forget everything, al the worries and fears gone. There’s only him.

[typically-untypical]

decorating their house with halloween deco as a protest against xmas with any/all of the dork sides as a prompt :D

^_^ I'm all for people enjoying the Holidays however they want, but I think you have a point about the Dark Sides believing in Halloween Supremacy.

This Is Halloween

Remus could hear the sound of Christmas pouring through the door. It felt like heresy; the offending noise was scraping at his ear drums. This was completely unacceptable, it was still November and Remus was not about this life. Christmas was about hope, peace on earth, family, and all the other cutesy bs his brother subscribed to, and Remus would behave… ish… during the month of December, but it wasn’t December yet. Maybe if they lived in another country where Christmas meant more, Remus would find another thing to complain about, but they lived in the United States, Florida specifically. Christmas here was kept in check by the boundary line of Thanksgiving and it was only fair to the retail workers who would have to listen to Christmas music on loop, that Remus got his revenge. So, unless all of the other sides wanted nightmares of a decapitated Kris Kringle, they were going to respect the "no Christmas before Thanksgiving" rule. What better way to enforce it than with a Halloween takeover. 

Remus jumped up from the couch and teleported to his room, laughing all along the way. He knew what he wanted to do but he had to find just the right things, the perfect music, the perfect decorations. Sure he could just summon what he wanted, but sometimes a hint of authenticity was worth it. After finding a costume, a CD, and the decorations he wanted, Remus got ready for his plot. Was this an excuse to enjoy Halloween for another month, no, of course not. He would never force the others to continue enjoying a holiday about fears, lying, and disguises. It wasn't like those three things encompassed some of his favorite people. Nope, not at all.

Remus smiled as he snuck into the common room, looking for the CD player, he noticed that Patton had left the room, probably to look for more decorations, or to ask Roman to  conjure some. Roman was a fuddy duddy, he liked Halloween just as much as the dark sides but he had to pretend it wasn't his favorite because that wasn't what the light sides did. Honestly, Remus was a bit annoyed by his brother for playing to Daddy Patton’s wishes. Christmas was all well and good but where was the flair for the dramatics, the costumes? The candy? When they were younger he and Roman used to dress up in matching costumes.

With a snap, Remus turned all of Patton's Christmas decorations into 'tasteful' Halloween decorations, and he replaced the current CD with the 2001 Count Chocula "13 Day of Halloween - Rhythm and Boos" CD, an absolute classic. Then he disappeared quickly before he got caught, cackling back down in his own living room. He was sure his decorations and music wouldn't laugh, but even just the bit of change made him happy. The chaos was great and it helped ease some of the thoughts of making Paton the angel on the tree by shoving it up his... well.

Remus was laughing so hard, he almost didn't hear the CD stop and Patton's tirade of terror. Maybe he overdid it a bit on the spiders and gore, but if he was going to bring back Halloween for an encore, he was going to go big. By the time he stopped laughing, he heard someone coming down the stairs, though the didn't have the expected rush to their steps that he was expecting. Still, Remus changed into an outfit that would looked like Logan if not for the ripped cargo pants and torn green polo shirt. The glasses were at least correct, they should be since he had stolen them from Logan's spare drawer. He would probably never even know they were gone since Logan didn't typically need a set of spare glasses. Unlike some of the other sides, he was pretty good about taking care of his shit.

"Hey Re," Virgil said, dropping onto the sofa next to him. He was expecting to get reprimanded, chastised, something, but Virgil was acting positively calm. That was definitely not what Remus was expecting but he rolled with it anyway. Putting on the best fake nerd voice he could, Remus put down the book he was pretending to read and turned to Virgil.

"Why hello my esteemed college Virgin, what can I do for you today?"

Virgil rolled his eyes and shook his head. That had never been one of his favorite nicknames which was probably why it irritated him so much Roman called him that. "I was sent down here to tell you off for changing all the Christmas decorations." Again, he was calm, quiet even as he looked up at the ceiling rather than staring at Remus with those disapproving eyes the chaotic side knew Virgil had perfected. He wanted to gouge out those eyes sometimes, keep them in a jar. Maybe he should make a bunch of jars that had eyes that looked like they belonged to the other sides... later, right now he had someone else to focus on.

Remus looked at Virgil from behind his new glasses, everything was blurry so he had to push them up on his head to be able to actually see. "You aren't actually telling me to stop though."

"Nah," Virgil looked at him, "I like Halloween and I think your choice of music was... well it wasn't horrible. I actually thought it was kinda funny. Haven't listened to that since we were what... in middle school?"

A brilliant smile lit up Remus' face as he laughed. "Yes! See, I'm not the only one! Christmas can suck it!"

"Maybe I wouldn't go that far. Your brother likes Christmas so I'm happy to indulge him."

"Ew," Remus gagged and Virgil glared at him, rolling his eyes.

"But you aren't the only one who would be happy to indulge in Halloween for a little longer."

Remus' smile grew even brighter as he wiggled around on the couch until he was looking at Virgil fully. "What if we had a stupid little compromise or something?" 

Virgil raised his eyebrow, obviously attentive so Remus kept going.

"I'll leave the boring people alone so they can celebrate their holiday, and we could decorate for Halloween down here. The two of us could make it all dark and creepy and just have some fun." It had been a long time since he had hung out with Virgil and just existed in the same space as him. It would be nice to have his friend back for a bit. Remus sat watching as Virgil thought about, he was almost prepared to hear the other man say no when instead he nodded. 

"Yeah, Yeah that's a great idea." He stood up, holding his hand out for Remus. "We can pull out the old decorations, maybe make some new ones." Remus could see Virgil getting excited and everything buzzed in him like a hive of bees. 

Remus took Virgil's hand, laughing excitedly when it came off as Virgil attempted to help him off the couch. Anxiety only had a brief moment of fear until he obviously remembered it was Remus and he just tossed the hand back, shaking his head. 

"Alright Beetlejuice, I'm guessing you can get up on your own."

Remus reattached his hand as he, still laughing, sprang up to his feet. "You should go get your special decorations Vee, will set this whole things up Dark side style." Virgil smirked and nodded before heading off and Remus can already feel the change in the air. It was hard to explain, a hint of mysticism and dark magic, a hint of two people becoming friends again.

Remus wiggled excitedly, hardly able to contain his excitement as he started to place decorations. Maybe they could even rope Janus into it. He changed back into his normal outfit, this was gonna be so much fun.

[madmazmind]

Number 4 x

I'm a reminder of where you're going (Want you in my room) | 590 words | Just sfw | Maxiel

The want had never gone away. Even after all the rejection, every time he had been told no, they shouldn’t, this can’t be them: the teasing looks and touches and public displays of affection. Max still wanted him. He had never been brought to the point of taking it, stealing it, making sure that it happened, but seeing Daniel in that Red Bull polo did it. He snapped, ready to take. 

“You look good,” Max said boldly. He had followed Daniel back to the boardroom that the team had set up as his dressing room for the day, a long grey sofa added to the corner of the room, Daniel’s non-branded clothes strewn over the chairs. The scent of Daniel’s aftershave back on Red Bull property. Finally. He’d come home, following the lighthouse of home. 

Daniel spun around, eyes focusing on Max and relaxing slightly when he realised it was him. 

“You should never have left,” Max continued, stepping forward into Daniel’s space. “But not seeing you in blue for 4 years has made me realise just how good you look in it.” 

Daniel didn’t falter. They had played this game before. Pushing and pushing until one of them snapped and stepped away. Because they couldn’t be this. 

“Yeah?” Daniel replied. 

“Yeah,” Max said, drawing out the word. It came out from the back of his throat and he leaned in and held Daniel’s shirt between his pecks, creasing the fabric. “It’s your colour. Winning.” 

Daniel laughed openly. “I’m not going to win anything this year.” 

Max tutted. “We both know there is a bigger plan,” Max breathed, leaning impossibly close. “You will get a few months off. You can rest. Clear your head.” Max moved forwards so close that Daniel could feel his breath on his lips. “Then,” Max paused again, hands sliding boldly to grip Daniel’s hips. “I get you in that race seat as my teammate and we fuck up the rest of the grid.” 

“Is that a promise, Maxy?” Daniel questioned, using the pet name that he knew drove Max crazy. 

“If you want it,” Max confirmed. Daniel was home, where they loved him for real, but it wasn’t over. Not until Max got what he wanted. 

Daniel nodded and didn’t pull back when Max leaned in head first, capturing his lips. Max’s grip on his hips tightened and Daniel felt like the world around them had stopped. Daniel wanted all of Max, right now. That was insurmountable. They were in a room made of fake walls and Daniel was not going to be quiet when he finally let himself get what he wanted. That would happen in his room later. 

Max moved to trail kisses down Daniel’s neck, careful not to leave marks that would ruin the pictures Daniel still had to take today. 

“You know,” Daniel whispered, hand moving through Max’s hair, intoxicated by the kiss. “Every time I’ve looked at you this year, I kept thinking fuck, that’s where I could’ve gone. Like some painful reminder of what I left.” 

Max hummed in response. He pushed his face into Daniel’s shirt to nip along his collarbone, licking and tasting. 

“But then I realised you can just be a constant reminder of where I’m going,” Daniel continued. “You’re always in my head, I can’t think of anything else when you’re around. I had to find a way back to you, you’re like a fucking beacon.” 

“Do you still hate that?” Max asked, moving so they were face to face again. 

“No, I want you too.” 

[randomvarious]

Today's mix:

DJ-Kicks: Stereo MC's by Stereo MC's 2000 Breakbeat / Breaks / Hip Hop / Trip Hop / Downtempo

Here we get a smörgåsbord of selections that reveal some of the all too wild depths of UK hip hop and electronic group Stereo MC's' very own collective record crates. If you've never heard of these guys before, they tore up the early 90s back home with their third LP, Connected, and then they didn't release another album of any kind until this mix from '99/2000, as a part of Berlin label !K7's own consistently brilliant DJ-Kicks series.

So, this set in particular, which I think is the first mix that they ever released commercially, sees the Stereo guys weaving together a deeply-grooved, heady, and flat-out stoned tapestry that seems to be made of some of their absolute favorite tracks, both classic and contemporaneous, and in totality, makes for a deadly grab-bag that combines old school breaks, superb rap tunes, and psychotropically subterranean downtempo, trip hop, and breakbeat instrumentals.

And while this description should already sell you on just how good this thing is, there's also something else: a few separate times throughout this journey, the Stereo boys take a hip hop a cappella and match it to a very different instrumental than the one it had originally been paired with. Witness what they do with the Ultramagnetic MC's' 1992 song, "Poppa Large," by laying it over the very obscure Soul Circuit revision of The Freakniks' "Tell Me Why" from 1997. And then wait for the mix to proceed to the next track, where they let the instrumental from The Disco Four's 1981 tune, "Do It, Do It" ride for a little bit, until they drop "Poppa Large" on that beat too! Then later on, listen to what they pull off with ephemeral rap trio The Associates' 1998 song, "From the Ground Up," and Freddy Fresh's "Roller Rinks and Chicks" from that same year. All of it's so good! 😎

Not a bad word to say about this thing. Unpredictable, wig-splitting madness with a tracklist that spans across decades. Another timeless banger from the eclectic and unwavering DJ-Kicks series 😤.

Listen to the full mix here.

Highlights:

The Mike Theodore Orchestra - "Moon Trek" The Troubleneck Brothers - "Back to the Hip Hop" Kool G Rap & DJ Polo - "Road to the Riches" Freakniks - "Tell Me Why (Revised by Soul Circuit)" Ultramagnetic MC's - "Poppa Large" The Disco Four - "Do It, Do It" Sofa Surfers - "Beans & Rice" Divine Styler - "Tongue of Labyrinth" Freddy Fresh - "Roller Rinks and Chicks" The Associates - "From the Ground Up (a cappella)" Oil - "Slight of Hand" Stereo MC's - "Rhino, Part II" 57th Dynasty - "Pharaoh Intellect" 101 Strings - "Flameout" The Herbaliser - "Theme From Control Centre (reprise)" Mark Stewart - Hypnotize" The Funky Lowlives - "Latazz" Hieroglyphics - "At the Helm" Stereo MC's - "Rhino, Part III" Red Snapper - "Seeing Red" Stereo MC's - "Rhino, Part I"

And by the way, here's a list, off the top of my head, of other great trip hop/downtempo/breakbeat/hip hop-oriented mixes from this same series:

In no certain order,

Kruder & Dorfmeister Terranova Nightmares on Wax Kid Loco Thievery Corporation

[rhetoricandlogic]

‘The Old Drift’ Is a Dazzling Debut Spanning Four Generations

By Dwight Garner

March 25, 2019

Namwali Serpell’s audacious first novel, “The Old Drift,” is narrated in small part by a swarm of mosquitoes — “thin troubadours, the bare ruinous choir” — who declare themselves “man’s greatest nemesis.”

They’re a pipsqueak chorus, a thrumming collective intelligence, a comic and subversive hive mind. They are here to puncture, if you will, humanity’s pretensions.

“The Old Drift” is an intimate, brainy, gleaming epic, set mostly in what is now Zambia, the landlocked country in southern Africa. It closely tracks the fortunes of three families (black, white, brown) across four generations.

The plot pivots gracefully — this is a supremely confident literary performance — from accounts of the region’s early white colonizers and despoilers through the worst years of the AIDS crisis. It pushes into the near future, proposing a world in which flocking bug-size microdrones are a) fantastically cool and b) put to chilling totalitarian purposes.

Serpell’s mosquitoes observe the dozens of wriggling humans in this novel, and they are distinctly unimpressed. We were here before you, they imply. We will be here long after you are gone. In the meantime, thanks for the drinks.

The reader who picks up “The Old Drift” is likely to be more than simply impressed. This is a dazzling book, as ambitious as any first novel published this decade. It made the skin on the back of my neck prickle.

Serpell seems to want to stuff the entire world into her novel — biology, race, subjugation, revolutionary politics, technology — but it retains a human scale. It is filled with love stories, greedy sex (“my heart twerks for you,” one character comments), pot smoke, comedy, inopportune menstruation, car crashes, tennis, and the scorching pleasure and pain of long hours in hair salons.

Serpell is a Zambian writer; she was born in that country and moved to the United States with her family when she was nine. She teaches literature at the University of California, Berkeley.

There’s a vein of magical realism in her work — one woman cries almost literal rivers, another has hair that covers nearly her entire body and that grows several feet a day — that will spark warranted comparisons to novels such as Salman Rushdie’s “Midnight’s Children” and Gabriel García Márquez’s “One Hundred Years of Solitude.”

Serpell does not try to charm her readers to death. Her men and women are not cute (except, sometimes, to each other), and they are not caricatures. Even the most virulent racists in “The Old Drift” aren’t one-dimensional.

Serpell is a pitiless and often very funny observer of people and of society. She describes polo as “that strange game that seems like a drunken bet about golf and horse riding.” A man on a leather sofa is commended for “expertly unlocking that complex apparatus — a clothed woman.”

She offers this definition of “history”: “the word the English used for the record of every time a white man encountered something he had never seen and promptly claimed it as his own, often renaming it for good measure.”

Here she is on a young white woman in Zambia: “She seemed both weak and imperious, helpless yet haughty. In a word: British.”

This is a matrilineal epic. It is packed with grandmothers, mothers, daughters. They are hardly placed on pedestals or lit by false, ennobling, autumnal light. They’re all struggling. Some drop out of school, steal or dabble with skin-whitening creams. Some open businesses, others turn to prostitution. Still others turn to protest. Nearly all are hoping to find love and, in the interim, to avoid being raped.

This book is intensely concerned with women’s bodies. Dissertations will surely be written about the multiple meanings of hair in this novel. We’ve learned too much from male writers about what it’s like to walk the planet guided and plagued by one’s reproductive apparatus. This novel, with wit and sensitivity, flips and revises that familiar script.

One young woman gets her period on her wedding day. Her friends, her family, the many guests — they’re all here. “All she wanted,” Serpell writes, “was to be at home in bed, curled in a ball, alone and quietly bleeding.”

Serpell is keenly interested in olfactory information. She lingers on people and places and scent. In one scene, a blind woman smells eucalyptus and knows she is nearly home. In another, a mother dislikes her daughter’s “new teenagery smell,” described as “a melony-lemony-biscuity scent that Adriana found both puerile and daunting.”

The plot of “The Old Drift” is not simple to unpack. The book begins, at the start of the 20th century, at a colonial settlement on the banks of the Zambezi River called the Old Drift. A dam is being constructed that will change many lives, a dam that some will wish to bring down.

The first women we meet, beginning around 1940, are: Sibilla, a white girl so unusually hirsute that at one point later in life she will be referred to as “an NGO for hair”; Agnes, a “pale, mad” and blind British girl who marries a black professor and engineer; and Matha, a bright girl whose prospects collapse after she becomes pregnant. She is this novel’s copious weeper, “the heartbreak queen of Kalingalinga.”

We get to know their daughters. One operates “Hi-Fly Haircuttery & Designs Ltd” (and perhaps a shadier business); another is a stewardess who once had artistic ambitions. One of these daughters has a long affair with a doctor who is working on a vaccine for H.I.V.

About a potential vaccine, we get shrewd snippets of dialogue like this one: “‘Beta version,’ Naila scoffed. ‘They should just say black version. They’re testing it on us.’”

The third generation goes on to work on microdrones, on further AIDS research and on political protest, seeking redress for the wrongs of history. One character also works on the vexing future of wearable technology — digital beadlike chips, implanted into the skin, that with the help of permanent tattoos of conductive ink turn one’s hands into approximations of smartphones.

“Government is controlling us,” one character says near the end of the novel. “And the worst part is — we chose this. We held our hands out to them and said PLEASE BEAD US!”

Serpell carefully husbands her resources. She unspools her intricate and overlapping stories calmly. Small narrative hunches pay off big later, like cherries coming up on a slot machine.

Yet she’s such a generous writer. The people and the ideas in “The Old Drift,” like dervishes, are set whirling. When that whirling stops, you can hear the mosquitoes again. They’re still out there.

They sound like tiny drones. They sound like dread.