#take two haha whoops

[into-the-feniverse]

TriStamp college AU let’s goooooo (part 1)

+ a meme below the cut

(Roberto is there cause how tragic would it be if you messaged your professor that and they just left you on read, I’d be mortified)

[tinystarbites]

accidents | Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: during a long case away, Spencer accidentally sees Reader's nudes on her phone and can't cope because he is a MESS for reader whoops [5.5k]

Warnings: SMUT MDNI, 18+ only, fem!reader, fluff, some angst mainly Spencer doubting himself aww :(, Spencer is PINING for you hard (haha get it), nudes, Spencer loves you so much, pls someone give him a hug, m!masturbation, talk about sex, proofread but prolly not perfect lol, like you aren't probably ready for the amount of longing in this, *slaps Spencer* this bad boy can fit so much pining and yearning

read pt.II here

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Spencer swears it was an accident.

You were all away on a case, somewhere in Florida. And of course, something like that can only happen in Florida, because as much as he dislikes connecting random events with random locations, non-sequitur fallacy and all that, he cannot not say that many of his most embarrassing moments aren’t attributable to the south-eastern state. (He will not elaborate on these moments, he very much likes to keep most of his dignity still intact, thank you very much.)

But his dignity isn’t really the only thing that had been shattered to pieces by… by the accident. Far from it really and it- well, it- God, this really won’t end well for him, will it? He’s well and truly, as Emily likes to say, fucked.

It happened on the fourth day he and the team were cooped up in a small, dingy police station, chasing down an unsub that liked to paint intricate body art on the victim’s corpses as part of his MO. Aside from, y’know, slitting their throats with what seemed to be an old, rusty saw. The paradoxical duality of these two aspects, of the interplay of carefulness and diligence put into the painting process and the absolute careless way the unsub ends his victims was fascinating really – but not as much as it is disturbing, still.

Thus, this case is a very photography-heavy one. Most of the cases they solve involve photographs of some kinds of course, but Spencer has never sat in front of quite as many pictures of art and gore in his life before. It was strange, to say the least, even to him. Strange and annoying, to be honest.

Because Spencer isn’t exactly fond of all things that come with some electrical inner life, i.e. smartphones, his old brick of a phone isn’t exactly helpful for this case. He still feels the need to roll his eyes at Garcia after she, for the umpteenth time, called him an old grandpa and his phone a potato trying to pass as a phone. And failing miserably, especially when looking at the pictures it takes and their quality. Well, Penelope would say “pictures”, because she would also say that a resolution of beneath 60 PPI should be considered a war crime against modern technology, but Spencer doesn’t know and doesn’t want to know what that even means, so. Jokes on her.

Well, actually, the joke is on him. And yes, he knows, the joke is almost always on him, he knows his pipe-cleaner physique and too big eyes and long hair and everything about him really, makes him the perfect target for the occasional bullying he gets still as an adult, but he’s used to that. It’s normal, part of his everyday life. He can deal with that (more or less).

What he so brilliantly cannot deal with however, is having you around him almost 24/7. Because Hotch had had the amazing idea of fixing you to his hip as his personal photographer to circumvent his technological potato-problem. Uh- not that you, that you take pictures of him, why would you ever do that, but more like, taking pictures for him. Of their victims. And the body art.

Spencer was actually waiting for your protest, because there seems to be nothing worse for you than to stay inside the office when you could be out there, on the fields, in midst of all the action. Where Spencer usually isn’t. But that’s fine of course. Completely, absolutely fine. Spencer doesn’t look up every time the door to the tiny room he’s set up his camp in opens to see if it’s you bringing him another coffee just the way he likes, if it’s your smile that will make him feel more energized than any overly sweet coffee ever could. If it’s your voice and smell and aura (Penelope is definitely getting into his head) that for the short while you are there, makes everything seem so much more manageable.

It’s an energy burst unlike any other and Spencer is aware of what that means, so aware his body burns with it sometimes… Often. Okay, fine, most of the time. He just prefers to ignore it and enjoy the precarious friendship he built with you for what it is because he just likes to have you around so very much and – this was so not the point he wanted to make. He’s hopeless, when it comes to you, and it really is kind of embarrassing.

So, this is why the joke is so entirely on him that it’s not even a joke anymore. It’s basically bullying, he feels bullied. Because you actually had beamed the prettiest smile he’s ever seen at him, said ‘Oh finally, I can unpack all the dark hidden talents from within me’ which was so cryptic but so you and then you also winked at him. And well, Spencer has to lie if he were to say that he was being totally normal about this. That you didn’t just upheave his insides like an earthquake of magnitude eight with a single wink. Oh, he’s in so much trouble.

The first two days the two of you work side by side proceed without any unforeseen occurrences. And Spencer is so glad about that he could cry. From the moment you had joined the team two years ago, from the moment he met you, it was an undeniable fact that you were nice. Not only that, but truly, selflessly kind in a way that has left him all too choked up to even speak on multiple occasions now. The team is nice to Spencer, of course they are, they’re his family. But nothing in the entire world could have adequately prepared him to the spring of kindness you so freely distribute to anyone willing to receive it. And god, Spencer is willing. Is it every time you listen to him ramble on and on, unable to really hold his tongue despite the embarrassment clouding his cheeks darker. Is it every time you ask him about the book he’s reading, every time you ask him how his mother is doing and just- all these tiny things that add up and completely smush his brain into a fuzzy mess of warmth that leaks down his body.

He literally could spend every minute of every day just sitting next to you and soak up your presence and he would be the happiest person alive. That’s why he cherishes your friendship to him so strongly, and that’s why it’s the worst thing that Spencer is, well, himself.

He knows that you would probably be too nice to outright state that something he does unsettles you. Changes the way you think about him. Still. There is the worry. Buried so deep in his mind it’s as if he was born with it. And that’s why he’s so relieved that he is keeping the worst of the ‘Reid effect’ at bay while working with you on this twisted painter case.

It all goes well, until it doesn’t. Of course. Good things never seem to last for Spencer.

It’s already later in the afternoon on the fourth day you are working the case, no end in sight, unfortunately. Spencer is bend over the table, hands entwined in front of his mouth as he’s staring down the printed pictures of the unsub’s latest victim from three days ago. The brushstrokes seem remarkably stable, the colours uncannily vibrant. Spencer does not know much about art, but he does recognise talent when he sees it. And this unsub seems to have it in abundance. It’s almost a shame he’s a deranged killer. But oh well.

He jumps in his seat when the door to his room abruptly bangs open and a dishevelled looking you is bustling into the room.

Your expression turns apologetic. “Oh Spencer, shit, sorry. I didn’t wanna startle you, but they just found another victim.”

And oh. Spencer feels his heart sink in his chest. Guilt tugging it further down into the abyss. Why wasn’t he faster with figuring out these paintings?

“Really? Where?”

You immediately launch into a rapid-fire list of details, all in the wrong order because you do tend to be a bit all over the place. Spencer doesn’t mind. Gives him a bit more of a challenge to order the information in his brain the way it works for him. You two work surprisingly well in that regard.

While talking, you round the desk that almost takes up all the little space available in the room. You sit in the chair next to him, so close he can feel the stressed warmth radiating from you and it takes a very good portion of his brain’s capacity to stop his hand from reaching out. Or do something else even stupider. More stupid? Oh hell. It’s a wonder he can talk in complete sentences with you.

He watches you pull out your phone, fingers typing in the passcode he guessed right after two weeks of knowing you. The indignant expression on your face had been adorable. That’s why he still guesses your new passwords weekly, just to mess with you a little bit. Because he’s apparently insane like that.

“Here”, you turn the display of your phone towards him, “Precinct’s out of ink. Do you mind looking at the pictures on my phone until I come back from the store?”

This is where Spencer should have said no. Declined politely, smile on his face. Tell you that sorry, I don’t really get the same detail on screen like on a printed version. Should’ve emigrated to Tristan da Cunha, change his name to Ferdinand. Whatever. Anything, except say, “Oh, of course. That’s no trouble.”

You smile that breathtaking smile of yours, fingers touching his slightly while giving him your phone. Spencer sucks his lower lip between his teeth to keep himself from making any kind of noise at the tingly feeling skittering down his back.

He can’t not smile back at you. It’s one of his many weaknesses. Jello, trying to out-solve himself every day with New York Times’ new crossword puzzles, dairy. Halloween themed socks. Old obscure movies no one has ever heard of. Reading the most difficult books in twenty minutes. You.

Once you left, Spencer starts diligently going through the photographs of their latest victim. Not yet identified white male. Average height, average weight. Short-buzzed sandy brown hair. Striking blue eyes that seem to stare at him accusingly even after death.

He works through approximately forty pictures taken off the intricate and detailed body art. This time, the unsub left many smaller paintings woven in a bigger, overall painting. There’s still one that Spencer hasn’t seen a close up of, that’s kind of hidden behind the victim’s ears. Maybe you saved it to a different folder. He clicks around your gallery for some time, opening and closing folders full of holiday pictures. Pictures of you, smiling, at the beach. A folder full of memes that he doesn’t get but is familiar with because you keep sending them to him anyways. Spencer is aware that he probably shouldn’t have just- perused your gallery like that. But he was in case-mode. Hyper-focused on finding the next clue, on detangling the next hint that would bring them further. That would finally be the key to end this case and bring justice to all the victims.

He isn’t really thinking, when he clicks on a folder titled ‘xxx lol’. Thinks it’s another one full of memes because of the abbreviation, but maybe you accidentally saved pictures of the case in there, wouldn’t be too out of character for you and-

Spencer sucks in a breath.

Drops your phone almost as an afterthought. The noise of it clattering to the table makes him flinch.

It lands display down. Small mercies and all that.

And Spencer is- he is-

… That was not-

Not -

There’s a weird buzzy feeling in his limbs, his chest and head. Like his blood turned into a swarm of bees. He feels like someone dumped a bucket of ice over his head and like he’s on fire simultaneously.

Okay. Okay.

That was not- pictures of the case.

Definitely not.

Oh Jesus Christ.

Spencer was definitely not supposed to see. That. Not supposed to see you- like that. Ever.

His heart is totally beating itself into a frenzy. There are at least two litres of blood rushing to his head. The other four are gathering somewhere down down down and oh. Oh shit.

Spencer is actually fucked. More than that. He wants to get fucked and that’s. Just. Even worse.

He wants to scream.

He ends up biting his knuckles and letting out a frustrated noise against his fingers.

Did he really.

Did he really just see your nudes?

(And yes, he knows that word. Penelope is a bad influence on him.)

His head is kind of a- a mess. More than usual when you are around. And… what. What does he do now? He can’t just- can’t just leave your phone like that. You’d obviously see what he was looking at and that’s just- unacceptable.

But the other option appears just as preposterous. Because, because, he’d have to look at your phone again. At you, like that, again. To get out of ‘xxx lol’. Damn you. Why did you have to be so unserious and name your, uhm, very personal folder like that? And no password-block?

Spencer feels a different kind of warmth enveloping him because it’s just- so you, silly and funny and kind of unbelievable and Spencer is so deeply in love with you that he feels like he’s going crazy with it. Of course, you’d be like that about stuff like that as well. Spencer would give everything to just once experience what it’d feel like to kiss you. To feel your lips twisted in a silly smile against his, flicking a finger at his ear because you would. Do that. When kissing someone. And okay. Okay. Spencer needs to get his shit together, like, yesterday.

You could come back any second now, actually and fuck. He needs to close the gallery app on your phone, asap.

His hands are trembling as they retrieve your phone from the table.

He allows himself a deep breath. And then. With eyes squeezed almost close, he taps the return arrow. Well, tries to. He thinks he managed to escape your nudes-folder without any hiccups but well.

Spencer is freaking inept with technology.

So. He finds himself looking at another picture of you and god, it actually might kill him.

It’s inappropriate. So so so so inappropriate. You would kill him dead if you ever knew Spencer was ogling your pictures like that. Like a perverted stalker.

But. But.

There shouldn’t even be a ‘but’.

But.

You’re just. You’re just- You’re incredible. Not even in a sexual way, just-

You’re so beautiful it hurts.

And call Spencer selfish, a pervert, whatever. Because he knows, okay? But he also knows that he’d never, ever get to see you like that. And it hurts in a different way now, because Spencer just wants. Wants you so much. You and you, just you.

But…he’d never get to have you. Which is fine, of course. Having you as a friend is actually one of the best things that ever happened to him, and he’d never do anything to endanger that-

…Well. He’s not perfect. So, sue him, for only once, giving into his deepest darkest desires. He’s only human. And pathetically in love with you. And attracted to you. Oh, he wants to be with you so badly. Wants to- wants to get kissed and held by you. Wants to make love with you, which just. Sounds so dumb and cliche. But maybe he just is that for you.

Still. He shouldn’t think how absolutely breathtaking you look, sprawled across the white linen of presumably your bed. He knew you worked out regularly, but. Spencer feels hot all over when he thinks how easily you could just. Manhandle him around. To wherever you wanted him. And this is something he apparently likes. (He consciously stores that information away for later. Later.)

He shouldn’t think how you would tease him, how you would make him beg for you before he’d even taken off his clothes. He would. He would beg for you, go on his knees. Everything, everything.

He shouldn’t think how warm and safe you’d make him feel, even after knowing he’s inexperienced in everything. You’d take his face in your hands, smile at him so beautifully he’d cry. Tell that ugly internalized shame to go ‘fuck off to Jupiter’.

Oh, he shouldn’t be looking at you like this. He shouldn’t, shouldn’t, shouldn’t.

But there’s always so much he shouldn’t do. Friends shouldn’t think of other friends like that. Friends don’t imagine how it would feel to be taken apart and put together again by their friend. Friends shouldn’t want to touch, touch, touch-

Maybe, for once, he just. Has enough of that. Maybe, he could just. Indulge. For a minute. To know what it’d be like. Just. A little.

To know what it’d be like if this picture was meant for him. What it’d be like- Be like to see you. And for you to see him. Like that. What it’d feel like to crawl into your lap, bury his face in your neck. Set his teeth on the gentle skin there and hear you gasp for him. How you’d bury your hands in his hair, and he’d make the most miserable noises until you pulled and-

Something in the corner of his eyes catches his attention and- shit.

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit.

That’s you. Walking towards the door.

His hands are shaking so badly he has difficulties navigating your phone. But thankfully, this time, he manages to leave ‘xxx lol’ and find his way back to the evidence folder.

Oh god.

Oh god.

Did he actually- He actually-

The door springs open. Spencer startles kind of violently.

(Oh god.)

You have a big grin on your face. Some magenta ink smutched across your left cheek. And Spencer knows what you look like without-

“Heya, Spence, you won’t believe what just happened-“

(Oh god.)

“Uh… you okay there?”

His face feels like it’s on fire. His heartbeat is spiking and, well. He’s never been quite this turned on his entire life. He feels himself hard and aching against his trousers and Spencer wants you to push him down on the table and-

Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god-

He needs to- leave. Right now.

“Fine”, he squeaks, voice all over the place and he cringes, “Just-“

He wags his hands around in a very confusing, general manner. Grabs some photographs.

“I need to- Need to. Bathroom”, is all he somehow manages, photographs surely placed in front of his, ahhhh, problem.

You look at him as if he lost his mind. He probably has.  “Oh-kay? Then… go?”

Spencer goes.

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Spencer can’t stop thinking about those pictures.

He’d known it would come to this. Him, lying wide awake on the uncomfortable hotel bed.

Having an eidetic memory has never felt more like a curse to him as now.

He buries his head further into the pillow. Fingers digging into it. Pulling his legs closer to him and, ah. That. Probably wasn’t the greatest idea of his.

He’s still- turned on. Uncomfortably so.But just thinking of taking care of that. Well. He’s 100% sure that that’s not the way to go about forgetting these pictures.

Also, it’s bad enough already that he even saw them. It would be so much creepier to jerk himself off to them. To you. His best friend. But- ugh.

It’s always kind of uncomfy for him to be away on a case. He prefers his own four walls over anything else, kind of, except maybe the university library. And now, being sexually frustrated away on a case that requires even more focus than other cases do?

Oh, Spencer is so fucked.

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You notice that something is off with him. It really would have been a miracle if not, because then Spencer would’ve had to question your profiling skills. But even then- he doesn’t think that you’d even need to have these skills to notice him acting off.

Because Spencer is so not the person to play incidents like that cool. He is painfully aware of that, thank you very much.

So, the next day, when you came to say hi to him (“Hey there, Mr. Doctor.”), after he basically ran off the day before, and you, as always, casually put your hand on his shoulder, Spencer, he-

He spit out his coffee.

He could feel you freeze through the hand on his shoulder. Your expression would’ve been comical if Spencer wasn’t dying.

“Uhh… Do you… Do you need a moment?”

Well, that was a freaking understatement. Spencer needs not a moment but all of them to try to get his act together.

…which he didn’t. Not for the rest of that day, and also not for the day after. And the day after. This case apparently will never end. Fucking Florida.

You, of course being the kind soul you are, tried talking to him.

(“Spencer, are you okay? You’ve been acting kinda-“

“What? What do you mean? I’m fine, completely.”

“Uhm… Sure. If you wanna talk about it, you got my number.”)

And well. Spencer feels like he is going insane.

It’s come down to him not being able to spend more than thirty minutes uninterrupted in your vicinity without getting semi-hard, because he knows. Without him almost doing something stupid and drop to his knees then and there and beg you to either forgive him or to please let him eat you out.

Ah, yes, because apart from being so frustrated he could scream, he’s also feeling so guilty it’s slowly killing him.

There you are, still being his absolute favourite person on the planet, unaware of what kind of person you are laughing with. Of what Spencer did. It was an accident yes, but- He should’ve said something. Maybe warned you so that it would not happen again. Ugh, but the more time passes the worse it gets. The more impossible it feels to just- go to you and say ‘ah, uhm, by the way, I saw your nudes and maybe you should put those behind a password block’.

Spencer is just- the worst friend. What friend doesn’t give their friend a heads-up about something like that? He’ so, hopeless, incompetent, and he gets it now why he didn’t have that many friends in school. 

It’s gotten so bad so quickly that the others started noticing too, obviously. It really is a curse working with profilers. Spencer should reconsider his move to Tristan da Cunha.

“What’s got pretty boy so worked up, huh?”, Morgan asked him on the day after the incident.

“Did something happen, Spence?”, JJ pulled him aside on the second day after.

“Are they cancelling Doctor Who?”, Emily, on the first day after.

“Kid, you need to eat something”, as Rossi pressed a protein bar into his hands.

Even Penelope texted him.

is it what i think it is? ;))))))

He did not dignify her with an answer.

When Hotch comes to him on the evening on the second day after, Spencer is a mess. He’s practically spent the entire day in some state of fluster. He noticed he’s trailing off when he’s info-dumping. That he’s just- staring off into space more often than he usually does. That he can’t talk to you properly without stuttering, that he avoids looking you in the eyes. So, it really was only a matter of time until their unit chief would scold him. Or whatever Hotch is here to do.

“Listen, Reid”, he says, tone of voice a little too similar to when he is talking to Jack when he did something mildly inconvenient, “whatever it is, and I don’t want to know unless it’s something bad, deal with it. We need you with a clear head here, okay?”

And well, that could’ve gone a lot worse.

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He still thinks so once he falls into bed that evening. But now-

Deal with it.

How? How should he deal with that? It’s not like he can just press the ‘Delete’-button in his memories. Thanks for nothing, Hotch.

His eyes strain from staring at the ceiling in the dark. Closing them doesn’t really help because all he’d see is you. He’s such a mess.

A pining, pathetic loser mess and he’s so hard again he can’t properly think. It’s just- Spencer has had rather inappropriate thoughts about you before. Has actually spent way too many hours in his apartment just lazing around, thoughts occupied on all the countless ways he’d like you to make him lose his goddamn mind. It had been kind of an accident (isn’t that just the story of his life), the first time it happened.

Spencer had almost been finished with his report, he’d just needed an additional detail from you to finish up. He’d asked Morgan where you were, and this is how he found himself walking down the corridor to Penelope’s ‘Dungeon’. Which, he’d never say out loud because that’s just ridiculous, right?

He saw the door to her office was slightly ajar, a mix of yellowish-red light splitting the hallway in half where it spilled out of the open gap.

There’s a giggle coming from inside the room and Spencer smiles- can’t help it really, because your laugh is just so absolutely ridiculous, a kind of high-pitched screech that ends in airy laughter and he’s so obsessed with it he wants to engrave it on a CD to listen to it again and again.

“No way, gorgeous, I don’t believe that”, Penelope whisper-giggled.

Spencer didn’t realize his steps slowed down, too curious by what you two could be talking about. And also, kind of forgetting that you shouldn’t just listen to other people’s conversations like that.

“Oh yes”, your voice was low, and Spencer would be lying if he said it didn’t send a tingle along his spine, “He broke up with me, but he came crawling back to me not even two months later because I apparently ‘ruined him’ for anyone else.”

Ruined him? What did you mean?

Both Penelope and you were laughing now, louder than before.

“You really, really gotta teach me your devious ways, buttercup.”

You snicker. “I guess it all boils down to making them come so hard they cry and forget their own name, really.”

Spencer didn’t get the detail he needed from you that day.

He’d gotten something much worse and that was curious. From the limited sexual encounters he’s had in his life before (a rushed hand-job somewhen in university in a toilet cubicle by that one other student he was into back then) he couldn’t really imagine something like sexual gratification that made one cry. Sure, getting himself off felt good. Sure, that orgasm had been fine. But… it could feel better?

He kind of didn’t think of that before.

So, when flustered-he had returned to his apartment after that overheard conversation, he kind of… thought about what these things could be that you did, to make others feel so good they lose the basic functions of their memory.

And the rest is basically history.

Of course, he’d never touched himself while doing… research about your techniques. It just felt- wrong. You are his friend and despite of his crush on you, it didn’t feel right.

But now…

He really really shouldn’t. But, he’s just so- desperate. For you and for things to go back to how they were. Without him almost bursting at the seams each time you look at him because before, he never had any problems with categorizing his mind like he does now.

So maybe… Maybe he can just… Do it once? Real quick, to get it out of his system?

The longer Spencer turns the thought in his head, the more… it seems like a good idea. You’d never know. Spencer could forget about- about the accident and move on. Solve the case and finally leave cursed Florida behind. If he just does it this one time, it’s not that bad right?

The fuzzy pleasure that shoots up his spine when he finally, finally presses his hand against himself through his pyjama pants answers him. Yes, yes, it says and more more more-

Spencer has never been good in denying himself things that make him feel good, better than good, things that make him forget about any pain that has nestled inside of his body or mind. Right now, that thing is you. Oh, perfect beautiful lovely you. He can’t stop the way his lips twitch into a smile, almost shy, even though he’s alone. But something about you just- 

He gasps, back arching a little when he slides the palm of his hand along himself, still through two layers of fabric.

Something about you just- god, how can he put this into words- something about you just makes him feel- safe. Seen. Taken care of. And it’s just, so foreign to him. Strange. He’s always been looking after himself. After dad left and mom-

He’s kind of addicted to it. To the way you make him feel. Spencer can’t get enough of it, can’t get enough of you. Never never enough.

His fingers trail circles around the head of his cock, light and unhurried, enjoying the shivers of good good amazing it sends through his limbs, to his fingertips. Spencer can feel the tension leaking out of him, can feel his muscles relax and his mind become hazy. He should do this more often, god he always forgets how good it is, it feels.

He almost forgets why he decided to get off right now. It had something to do with you. You. Naked and there, here with Spencer. He whines a little because you aren’t here, why aren’t you here he wants that so badly-

But all he has is the crystal-clear mental snapshot of your nudes. Spencer doesn’t remember ever remembering something with such clarity before. He feels kind of embarrassed by that, how obviously desperate he is for you. How he would do everything for you, with you. But this feels so good that he doesn’t care about any kind of embarrassment or shame that might trigger his self-loathing.

He increases the pressure of his palm slightly, oh god oh oh, it’s so good already and Spencer hasn’t even touched yet, not properly at least, but oh. Oh, he wants moremoremore-

It’s so easy letting his thoughts tangle, mixing old and new. Fantasies and reality. The you from the pictures merges with the you from his daydreams and oh shit. Oh fuck.

Spencer moans, high and needy at the back of his throat and god how are you so beautiful?

Imagined-you has absolutely nothing on the real you. Spencer could have never himself come up with you because he just lacks the imaginative capabilities to conjure the absolute vision you are. The vision you portray on those freaking pictures that have branded themselves into his very neurons. He’s sure, absolutely sure, that he will never get over them. Over you. Doesn’t even really want to.

Because he is quite certain that the sight of you, your stomach your thighs your arms your tits your- oh he forgot where he was going with this.

By now, Spencer’s hand has dipped beneath his pyjamas and beneath his boxers and he moans again, his lips pulled between his teeth and eyes shut because the feeling of good good better more almost peaks when he grabs himself, finally.

His right hand starts an even, slow pace along his cock because if he is only ever doing this once, he is going to make most of it.

It doesn’t take long for him to get close, though. He’s been so wound up the last few days, it really is no surprise. It’s actually more surprising he hasn’t come all over himself already.

Soft, keening noises are continuously spilling from between his lips, hips moving together with his hand because he just can’t help himself. The heat in his abdomen is building and building and he whimpers because he wants it to be you so so badly, his thoughts are a mess, he is a mess and he wishes he could be your mess, yours, yours to make a mess of and oh god he’s going to-

A knock. On his door.

He freezes, blood rushing loud in his ears, heart pounding and his cock hot in his hand and begging him to not stop but-

“Spencer? It’s me, can you let me in?”

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pt. II? 👀

[shrimpybbq]

so I was reading one of ur high school gf au posts and what about after a fun night with rafe and his back is all red and scratched up bc of ur night together and maybe some teasing rafe from the guys

“rafe wandering around the house with his shirt off, forgetting about the red scratch marks down his back - he just makes her feel so good she can't help it. he only smirks if anyone comments”

oh this is so yummy bc you know rafe is wandering around the pool, maybe a little bit drunk and the sun starts to come out. he just wants to feel the sun on his skin and so he takes his shirt off, only to hear whoops and hollers from kelce and topper. he’s so confused, which the boys understand from his expression, so topper decides to help him out a bit.

“good night, huh rafe?”

at that, rafe became even more confused. good night? it was just a normal night for him, wasn’t it? kelce takes the opportunity to join in, loving the opportunity to tease his friend for once.

“man, you look like you got attacked or some shit! bro, your back is raw,” he exclaims.

oh yeah, that’s what he was up to last night, rafe recalls to himself. so what he has a healthy sex life, he thinks. he makes his girl feel good, enough that she can’t contain herself. really, the scratch marks are the tame side. usually, he prefers her to bite into his shoulder if she can’t take it, loving the way she clings to him like a lifeline as she cums, but she still seems to enjoy dragging her nails down his back more often than not.

“haha, very funny. you losers are just jealous because you’re not getting any, huh?” rafe retorted. he couldn’t hide the smirk on his face, always pleased to know how good he made his girl feel. the smug grin he was known for shone brightly to his friends.

“oh i’m getting some, but you - i see why you’ve got two kids man, you’re giving it to her good!” kelce continued, his tone growing more sleazy as he looked to gain a bigger reaction out of rafe, “you fuck her like a whore all the time or what man? she’s scratchi-”

rafe saw topper turn to kelce, trying to intervene before rafe could wreak havoc but he was too late. rafe had crossed over to where kelce sat, gripping the chain around his neck tightly. he was face to face with the younger boy now, furious gaze boring into his skull.

“you keep your fuckin’ mouth shut, ok kelce? you don’t talk about her like that or you’re gonna be running home to your mom with a broken fucking jaw,” rafe spat, his voice low and filled with unbridled contempt, “you understand?”

“yeah shit man, sorry. my bad, i won’t do it again.”

“good,” rafe said, delivering a mocking pat to kelce’s cheek as he returned to stand. he faced the pool for a moment before diving in, the refreshing water soothing his anger. as he was underwater, topper shot kelce a look - everyone knew not to talk about rafe’s girl like that, and now, kelce had been reminded exactly why. as kelce shot back a confused look, topper could only slump back on his recliner, an exasperated sigh leaving his mouth. rafe was a lover boy at heart, but he was still hot headed and dangerous when he wanted to be - and today they were reminded of that.

I got a bit carried away with this but I hope you like it! Rafe is such a simp and he wouldn’t stand for anyone, even his friends, badmouthing his girl.

[troublewithvampires-a]

Closed starter for @sugarpixie

"Sugarsweet, I appreciate the attention and all," Salvatore drawled, struggling to keep a smile off his face, "but this is a bit excessive, don'tcha think?" Pippin's enthusiasm was so infectious, though, that even Salvatore knew his protests were half-hearted at best. If he really wanted the pixie to stop, he could just leave.

But Salvatore didn't want Pippin to stop. This was the most anyone had done for his birthday in a long time, possibly ever, and he was enjoying it so much more than he thought he would. Even if Pippin was definitely going a little overboard, he truthfully didn't mind.

When Salvatore had told Pippin offhandedly a few weeks before about his upcoming birthday, he hadn't expected anything to come of it. Really, though, he should've known better. The memory of Pippin's bright eyes lighting up with excitement made the vampire chuckle to himself.

No, Salvatore didn't mind in the slightest. Even if he did feel a bit ridiculous.

With that thought, Salvatore adjusted the goofy crown Pippin had plopped on his head, the one proudly proclaiming him The Birthday King, and smiled up at the pixie. He certainly didn't feel like any goddamn king, but it was nice to get the attention, he supposed.

"Ahhh, what the he-heck," he said, remembering at the last second that Pippin wasn't a fan of swearing. "'S one day a year anyway. So, what else you got planned for the day?"

[notherpuppet]

Do you think there's a right and/or wrong way to handle QPR? I know it's a tricky relationship, but it feels like most/some people kind of just slap the label onto a ship while depicting the ship as just romantic/having no difference with a romantic relationship. (this is why I was a little surprised when you said you do radioapple qpr when it reads a lot more like normal romance). Not meant as an attack or anything on anyone, just genuinely curious more than anything. Again, tricky relationship

So Imma put this link to info at the top of this post: https://taaap.org/2022/07/16/qprs-part-one/

Alright, so please take what I say with a grain of salt, because that's exactly what it is. One small bit of perspective in a mass of many people who experience QPRs in their life and/or are on an aro/ace spectrum. I also have NO QUALIFICATIONS on gender/sexuality theory, so my opinions are shaped by what I've learned and experienced personally. While people may identify with the same term, we are all still individuals with our own experiences. Words can help describe a phenomenon, but it doesn't make everyone who identifies with the word into a monolith.

So I've stated a few times that I navigate shipping Alastor similar to my own experiences as an aroace person. (I guess I'm sharing about myself with this post, but I think that can be helpful to just spreading awareness of an "alternative lifestyle"). So I'm romance-repulsed and sex-repulsed LOL but I'm also "positive" about those things. Like I view romance and sex as lovely, fun experiences people can have, but I've never been into it personally. It's fun for me to consume media about romance/sex, but yknow, it's also fun for me to consume media about violence or isolation. Doesn't mean I want to experience or engage in any of those things lol.

Anyway, I'm a huge people person and I love to party and yknow it seems most people are really wanting to fall in love or fuck or whatever pretty much all the time, but especially at parties hahaha. Normally, I'm pretty touch-averse, but I love dancing so much and it's a blast to dance with a partner (salsa especially!! i don't care for grinding for probably obvious reasons). And to connect the two previous sentences, people (whatever gender they are) would be very kissy-touchy on the dancefloor. Which i honestly dont really give a fuck about hahaha. I don't really get anything out of kissing but I also don't mind it. I just like to dance. It's all a pretty superficial--but still genuinely fun--experience for me.

When it comes to my deeper or more intimate connections, I have had friendships that have felt SO on the line of what was viewed as a romantic relationship. They were exceptional friends and we connected on a level that was deep and true, but it wasn't romantic. Sometimes we'd slow dance, sometimes we kissed, and it rocked. But it wasn't more than that, it was all that it needed to be. I didn't want more and neither did they (except one situation and so we had to stop being friends lol whoops). From the outside, people would even refer to us as partners in a half joking way, but we really were just friends. And I love those friends!! And a huge part of what made those relationships (which at the time were described as 'situationships' because we didn't know any of these terms haha) was their convenience. We either lived in the same building, worked together, or were neighbors LOL. I'm still friends with those absolutely lovely folks, but we don't live around each other, so our QPR just appears a lot more like any ole regular friendship. But it's not like there was a feeling that we transitioned into something different than before. It twas what it twas! (Had to take a pause while I was typing to reminisce fondly for a second, okay back to hazbin hahaha)

SO, whenever someone asks or it comes up, MOST OF THE TIME I do ship alastor through an aroace lens and experience with QPRs (specifically, MINEE because they were fun and I've never felt like doing this before I met a character like Al). And my XP is: "this isn't gonna be a partnership and we ain't fucking" LMFAO. so yeah!

When it comes to using a queer term like QPR, I just hope folks are considerate in their writing, but I also am inclined to just believe them if they say that's their intention because QPRs can look very different. Again, aroace and ace folks are not a monolith. The terms help to describe a human's experience. I'm inclined to think people are writing in good faith.

And all this being said, I want to just emphasize that I really don't think it's necessary to consider any of this shit if you want to ship a fictional character. I understand wanting to be protective of a character who shares an identifier with you (I personally don't wanna see romance/sex with Al in canon). But shipping is a fun thing a fandom does that often does ignore canon. Tale as old as time. I don't think anyone needs to be beholden to canon when they're writing fanfiction or having fun. If we did, I would have like--5 artworks on this blog hahaha. These characters are like dollies, do whatever you want. It's cool if people don't like it and I think it's cool if people do. It's just not that serious. There are ships I'm not particularly into or dynamics that I am not enchanted by, but whatever. I can just scroll or close my eyes.

TLDR; shipping in fandom doesn't need to be taken seriously at ALL. It can just be fun way for someone to play with fictional characters they like. That being said, I think it's good practice to use queer terms thoughtfully.

[harunayuuka2060]

Twst Unveil Event Part 4

Philomela: Go change with these. *tosses some clothes to Silver, Floyd, Yuurin, Rook, and Sebek*

Sebek, Silver, and Floyd: *ended falling on their backs*

Floyd: *laughing*

Philomela: Whoops. I forgot that you were just teeny-tiny creatures.

Rook: *has grabbed onto Yuurin so he wouldn't fall because of the impact*

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: The clothes weren't heavy.

Rook: *chuckles* Non. But it was the way she tossed them to us.

Yuurin: Oh.

Philomela: After you're done, Rook, Silver, Sebek, and Floyd, you'll be coming with me to discuss your preferred setup for the wrestling match.

Silver: Huh?

Sebek: Preferred setup?

Floyd: I heard from Jade that you've got some cool tech here~. Is it one of them~?

Philomela: YOU BET IT IS! *laughs*

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: I'll be chatting with the others while you do that.

Epel: Damn... We're seeing those abs again, Yuurin!

Yuurin: Hm.

Malleus: However, it appears ordinary in comparison to the others.

Yuurin: In ancient times, wrestlers from the Kingdom of Heroes used to fight naked.

Yuurin: With these clothes, this is the closest thing to that.

Malleus and Epel: O-Oh...

Yuurin: Oh. And it's also to ensure no cheating would happen.

Jade: Though, isn't it unfair to you?

Yuurin: ?

Jade: What I mean is, are you not afraid that others will cheat?

Yuurin: Would they?

Malleus: Sebek and Silver won't ever do that.

Epel: Yeah! Rook-senpai too! He's all about playing fair!

Jade: ...

Jade: *chuckles* I guess Floyd will try.

Jade: If he feels like it.

Malleus and Epel: ...

Ruggie: They sure taking their sweet time, huh?

Jack: Yuurin, why do they get to discuss their preferred setup while you're here, talking with us?

Yuurin: I'm guessing that I'll be fighting all of them.

Yuurin: That is, if I keep on winning.

Ruggie: Hmm. So in short, it's to make things difficult for you.

Yuurin: *nods*

Jack: ...

Jack: By the way, Ruggie-senpai, I noticed you were not answering Leona-senpai's calls.

Ruggie: I'll just video call him when the match starts.

Jack: ...

Ruggie: Don't worry. I know what I'm putting myself into.

Yuurin: What do you mean by that, Ruggie-senpai?

Ruggie: Oh, it's nothing.

Philomela: Here are the rules: You've got 30 minutes to beat your opponent! You win if you knock them out, they admit defeat, or time runs out!

Philomela: Do you understand?

Yuurin and the others: Yes.

Philomela: Great! Now let this match begin!

Philomela: Yuurin and Sebek! I'll be sending you now to the designated place!

Floyd: Good luck, damselfish~ Don't lose to Crocodile, okay~?

Silver: Do your best, Sebek. And you too, Yuurin.

Sebek: Hmph!

Rook: Monsieur Tranquille! Monsieur Crocodile! I'll be cheering on you two!

Yuurin: *gives them a nod*

Sebek: *smirks* I'll make this easy for you, Yuurin.

Epel, Malleus, Jack, Jade, and Ruggie: ...

Ruggie: THAT'S A FREAKING CLIFF!

Philomela: Haha! Yes!

Epel: O-Oh, I get it. It's for the scenery.

Philomela: No. It isn't.

Epel: *horrified expression*

Jade: There are spikes beneath the cliff, so if you fall...

Philomela: Those are just decorations, but if you did fall, you'd meet the pavement.

Jack: That feels reassuring...

Epel: Don't force yourself, Jack...

Sebek: If you choose to give up now, I won't hold it against you. *smirking*

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: *tilts her head in a relaxed manner*

Yuurin: Sebek, it seems you didn't think this through.

Sebek: Huh? What are you trying to say, human?

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: *feints a punch*

Sebek: !!!

Sebek: What the— What's wrong with you?!

Yuurin: *feints another punch*

Sebek: !!!

Yuurin: ...

Sebek: ...

Sebek: STOP TOYING WITH ME, HUMAN!

Yuurin: ...

Epel: I could feel Yuurin's urge to do a facepalm right now.

Jade: Honestly speaking, Sebek Zigvolt chose a great place.

Philomela: He could use it on his advantage.

Philomela: Only if he had understood its purpose.

Sebek: *has found the opportunity to apply a triangle choke on Yuurin*

Sebek: What can you say now, human?!

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: Not bad.

Sebek: N-Not bad? NOT BAD?!!

Sebek: YOU ARE AT MY MERCY!

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: *straightens her posture, pushing her shoulders back to create space, then begins to lift Sebek off the ground*

Sebek: Huh? HUH?

Yuurin: *once her trapped arm is free and she secures a stable position, she begins to transition into an armbar submission hold*

Sebek: This is... not enough... to defeat me...

Yuurin: Then escape. *tightens her grip*

Sebek: AHH!!! YOU BASTARD!!!

Malleus: *ended up laughing*

Epel: No— Malleus-senpai— *wheezes*

Ruggie: Shishishi... This is so good. *while recording the match*

Jack: ...

Jack: One question. Is this being broadcasted right now?

Philomela: Why, yes. The whole Kingdom of Heroes and the other schools who joined us are watching.

Jade: Oh, look, Yuurin has let go of Sebek.

Jack: But he hasn't tapped out—

*Yuurin started to carry Sebek and walked to the edge of the cliff*

Jack and Ruggie: ...

Epel: He's not going to do what I think he would... Is he?

*Yuurin jumped off the edge of the cliff with Sebek.*

Jade: He did.

Philomela: THE WINNER OF THIS MATCH! YUURIN!!!!

Sebek: *after he received treatment*

Yuurin: ...

Sebek: I will get back at you. Remember that.

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: *starts tapping his back*

Sebek: DON'T CONSOLE ME!

Yuurin: You need it.

Sebek: YES! BUT NOT FROM YOU!

[phoenixkaptain]

I have So Many thoughts about Scum Villain I have so many feelings I am overflowing with Them I am drowning in it I am dying

Shen Qingqiu telling everyone (including himself!) that he didn’t mourn for Binghe, okay? He did not mourn for him! He just repaired his first sword and buried it in his back garden so he could sit by it for hours at a time! He just felt so guilty that he concocted an entire elaborate ploy to off himself but still live so that Luo Binghe could get revenge on him! He just stopped eating because he didn’t have to eat in the first place and food tastes bland when it’s not made by Binghe! He called out Binghe’s name and compared Gongyi Xiao to Binghe and thought about Binghe at least once every three sentences, but he was Not mourning! He was just vibing, okay, you don’t get it-

The extra where Shen Qingqiu sees Luo Binghe during the five years he was dead. And Luo Binghe is working diligently and always busy and makes food everyday like he’s waiting for Shen Qingqiu to wake up. And he says he doesn’t know how much longer he can take it, but he takes it for years and would’ve taken it for even longer if he had to. And he holds Shen Qingqiu’s body to feed him qi and Shen Qingqiu recognizes it as the way he held Luo Binghe when he got hurt. And even though loterally everyone thought Luo Binghe was doing awful things to Shen Qingqiu’s body, all evidence points to him just holding it. Luo Binghe never touched Shen Qingqiu inappropriately and he was so sad and he was so broken.

The part where Luo Binghe says “Theoretically, how would someone go about showing another person that they have strong feelings for them?”

Mobei-jun: “Have you tried beating him up three times a day?”

Luo Binghe: “Mobei-jun, you are uninvited from answering.”

Shang Qinghua thinking about Peerless Cucumber everytime he gets insulted and getting nostalgic about it, but then pretending he only “just remembered” the username when he actually meets Shen Qingqiu and finds out he’s the one Shang Qinghua has been fondly remembering for literal years. You only remembered just barely, huh, Shang Qinghua? Yeah, okay, sure…

Shen Qingqiu was purposefully pretending to be stupid so that Liu Qingge would beat up his own Bai Zhan Peak disciples. Shen Qingqiu finds out they were bullying Luo Binghe and vows to get revenge, he was purposefully playing dumb so that Liu Qingge would volunteer someone to come up and then he’d go, “whoop, haha, silly me, you were right, Shidi :)”

Shang Qinghua comes back from a trip and everyone is talking about how weird Shen Qingqiu is acting and he’s like “What? What happened? How is he acting strange?” and Yue Qingyuan replies “He had a peaceful conversation with me for two hours” and Shang Qinghua immediately goes “He’s cursed, he’s definitely cursed, is he dying??”

Everyone else: “Shen-shixiong is being nice to us…”

Yue Qingyuan: “Is there any way to get Shen-shidi back to normal?”

Everyone else, internally: “Maybe, but I’m not looking for it.”

The entire Holy Mausoleum section. It’s stuck with me for two years. I love all of it. From beginning to end. The entire section, the moment Shen Qingqiu wakes up in a coffin to the moment Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe get out. All of it. Every single thing that happens is comedy gold and I will never get over it.

But of course there are highlights.

Shen Qingqiu, knocking on a coffin he can’t open, trying to hide from the things wandering around trying to kill him: “Excuse me, may I come in?”

Tianlang-jun, inside that coffin: “Sure.”

Shen Qingqiu just casually carting his boy Binghe around. Hanging out. Trying not to die. Getting stabbed multiple times and having plants grow out of his legs. The usual.

The Old Huan Hua Palace Master being a human stick. At first, Shen Qingqiu is like “omg Binghe is insane.” Then, after the Old Palace Master acts creepy towards Binghe and kind of implies creepiness about Binghe’s mom, Shen Qingqiu goes: “No, wait, yeah, this guy deserves this and worse.”

Shen Qingqiu: sits up in his coffin

Meng Mo: “I can’t help you wake up Luo Binghe.”

Shen Qingqiu: lays back down in his coffin

Meng Mo: “What are you- Are you going back to sleep?!”

Shen Qingqiu calling Zhuzhi-lang “Xizhi-lang” and Zhuzhi-lang tripping over his own feet then just sighing and letting him do whatever

Tianlang-jun: “Why do you know so much about the Holy Mausoleum?”

Shen Qingqiu:

Shen Qingqiu: “LOOK a DISTRACTION!”

Luo Binghe: “Why do you know so much about the Holy Mausoleum?”

Shen Qingqiu: “I read about it in one of Qing Jing Peak’s books.”

Luo Binghe, previous head disciple who has all of the books that have ever been on Qing Jing Peak memorised: “I see. I don’t recall that one.”

Shen Qingqiu:

Shen Qingqiu: “Oh hey look, a distraction-“

Tianlang-jun asking Shen Qingqiu to help him up and then his arm popping off.

Tianlang-jun just generally being the weirdest fucking guy. Tries to be a wingman for his nephew. Helped conspire with his nephew to bring a dead guy back to life. Has been stuck under a mountain and says it was for ten years, despite the fact that it was almost certainly longer than that. Sings the song about Shen Qingqiu fucking his son and then bluntly asks “Did you fuck my son?” Says “I was looking forward to meeting you” specifically because of the song about Shen Qingqiu fucking his son.

Tianlang-jun, just in general, is one of my favourite parts of Scum Villain. Like, he’s so… he’s my poor little meow meow. He is my scrungly. He literally falls apart and is just kind of like “Again? Dang.” A bunch of cultivators show up to thwart him and he’s like “I expected more of you.” He realizes that Shen Qingqiu, Zhuzhi-lang, and Luo Binghe were all in the same bed together and is like “Does Shen Qingqiu always need two others?” He walks in on that scene, only seeing Zhuzhi-lang and Shen Qingqiu, and says “Continue, please, don’t let me interrupt.” Finds out his wifey wasn’t apart of the plot to trap him under the mountain and even tried to save him and immediately melts like the marshmallow-hearted maiden he is.

Pre-trapped-under-a-mountain Tianlang-jun is a treat too. Finds his nephew and immediately says “You’re so ugly. Have a bunch of soldiers and land. Bye.” Meets Su Xiyan and becomes insufferable. “Zhuzhi-lang, am I ugly? Zhuzhi-lang, don’t you think my face is worth more than two silver pieces? Zhuzhi-lang, human women are so different than what I’ve read. Zhuzhi-lang, be honest, am I obnoxious?” He literally tries to barter over how attractive his face is and is legitimately pleased when Su Xiyan says it’s worth a gold coin. Zhuzhi-lang describes him as being the sugar baby and Su Xiyan being his sugar daddy, but Tianlang-jun not only doesn’t mind, he even seems to enjoy it. Zhuzhi-lang describes him as a pure-hearted maiden falling for a roguish cultivator. Zhuzhi-lang has the terrible realization that, in his own metaphor, he’s the handmaiden who follows her innocent lady around trying to keep her out of trouble.

My favourite part will always be the reveal though. The reveal that, after a whole novel dreading it, Luo Binghe is the antagonist. Luo Binghe purposefully led these cultivators and monks and priests to Tianlang-jun and let them all think Tianlang-jun was the one fuelling Xin Mo. Tianlang-jun says “I can’t even fuel Zhuzhi-lang’s human form, how could I fuel Xin Mo?” and everyone feels like they were thrust under cold water. Luo Binghe stands there and smiles and adjusts his sleeves and doesn’t care because none of these cultivators can touch him, most of them were taken out during the fight with Tianlang-jun, and Luo Binghe has basically already won.

He says that he hates Shen Qingqiu choosing others over him. Shen Qingqiu always chooses someone or something else. Shen Qingqiu always leaves when he asks him to stay. Luo Binnghe says that he’s going to make sure Shen Qingqiu has no other choice. If Luo Binghe isn’t his first choice, then Binghe will become his only choice. He’s willing to destroy the human realm and the demon realm both so that Shen Qingqiu will only be able to choose him.

One of the monks is like “That’s kind of fucked up. You’re just going to make him hate you.”

Luo Binghe: “Shizun can hate me all he wants, as long as he never leaves. And he won’t be able to leave.”

Luo Binghe is the ultimate villain. He is literally unstoppable. He is almost totally unkillable. He’s the final boss, but he’s a boss who’s always scripted to win. He’s more powerful than all of them combined and he’s gone actually insane because he can’t control Xin Mo. Xin Mo is feeding all his insecurities and Luo Binhe decided that the cure was to tie Shen Qingqiu to him with a leash too tight to escape.

He is absolutely terrifying, in this moment. He’s insane. He’s outright telling everyone that he’s destroying everything they love because if he doesn’t, Shen Qingqiu might choose one of them over him.

He’s - so - cool!

Luo Binghe is always cool, he’s so badass, but this moment just cements how absolutely unhinged he is!! He is insane!! He is manipulative and silver-tongued and adaptable!! He is grabbing the narrative with both hands and forcing it to be the way he wants it to be! He’s so cool, he’s so very cool, and I get chills when I read this part, he’s too cool!!

And I’ve already made a long post about how meaningful it is that Shen Qingqiu ultimately does choose Luo Binghe. Even out of a world-ending event, he still chooses Luo Binghe. Shen Qingqiu only didn’t choose him before because he didn’t know that was an option. For the rest of the novel and all the extras that take place post-canon, he seeks out Binghe. He’s the sticky one.

He says he hurt Luo Binghe’s feelings by saying he didn’t want to sleep in his bed and he’s upset because he was going to give in if Binghe just pushed a bit further! He thinks Binghe is in danger and takes him to Qing Jing Peak and tells everyone not to bully him and tells Luo Binghe that he can beat up the Bai Zhan Peak disciples as much as he wants, as long as they don’t die. He patches him up and just generally sticks to him. In the extra where Binghe shrinks, he takes baby Binghe everywhere. He holds his hand and he’s obsessed with how cute he is and he can’t get over how cute he is and he wants to show off to everyone else how cute he is. He’s having the time of his life, and only gets upset when everyone thinks baby Binghe is his child because Luo Binghe is at least eight, when would he have had him? And he’s a man, that too.

(Ming Fan: “I just assumed Luo Binghe was a demon and demons could do what they wanted.”)

Shen Qingqiu travels everywhere with Binghe and teases Binghe and likes admiring Binghe because Binghe is so handsome and charming and wonderful and-

The succubus extra where he goes to a succubus’ cave with Liu Qingge and is too flustered to look at the naked women everywhere and is very impressed by Liu Qingge’s disinterest in all of them. Gets his fortune read because he thought it might be fun and is like “…yeah, okay, sure, like this is true” and it turns out to be completely true. Thinks Madam Meiyin is weird because she never even officially joined Binghe’s harem, what a weirdo, who wouldn’t want to join Binghe’s harem? Pushes Liu Qingge into a pond to help him get over sex pollen.

Shen Qingqiu is such a madlad. He transmigrates and is like “I’m not going to be stupid and panic and make everyone suspicious of me 🙄” then becomes the most suspicious man on the planet by treating his martial siblings and disciples slightly better than dirt. He’s as obsessed with Luo Binghe as Binghe is with him, but pretends (poorly) that he isn’t. Agrees to do what Binghe wants to do while admitting that Binghe is definitely manipulating him, but Binghe is so cute, how can he say no? Thinks his little white lotus disciple is as pure as a maiden while Luo Binghe is over there desperately trying not to get a boner.

Shen Qingqiu never figures out that Luo Binghe messed up excersizes on purpose as an excuse to cling to him. It doesn’t even cross his mind. He thinks Luo Binghe was just clumsy. He thinks it’s a bit weird, since Luo Binghe is so good as everything else, but figures it’s just something Binghe was going through. Literally never crosses his mind that it was purposeful. Doesn’t even pop up as an option. He remains completely oblivious to that, even after Luo Binghe literally tells him he’s been horny for him since he was a disciple. Shen Qingqiu just does not realize.

I also really like MoShang, I promise, I find their dynamic to be honestly quite sweet, especially since Mobei-jun is just a spoiled princess who isn’t used to having to ask for what he wants. Luo Binghe and Mobei-jun respect each other and might even be a bit fond of each other, but good God, Mobei-jun, do not give me romantic advice, I swear. Shang Qinghua is constantly like “Cucumber-bro is so stupid, how can he not notice Binghe’s feelings?” and Mobei-jun is behind him slowly counting to five thousand in an attempt not to punch anymore holes through the walls. Great dynamic, 10/10, at least Shen Qingqiu eventually realizes that Binghe’s into him, Shang Qinghua doesn’t get the hint.

I like Yue Qingyuan being like “My sword is my life. Quite literally, it is my life. Accidentally combined my life force in my sword, whoops, now I lose a few years everytime I pull my sword out ¯\ _(ツ)_/¯”

Qi Qingqi is constantly like “Shen Qingqiu, the most annoying man I know. I would sell him for a half-eaten, unsalted tortilla chip. I hate this man’s guts. He is staring at my darling prized disciple but not even in a horny way. He is obsessed with Luo Binghe and never stops bragging about him. He acts like he’s delicate just to get out of having to ride a horse. He’s so lame, so cringe, a loser, the worst.” And near the end she’s like “I guess Shen-shixiong isn’t actually the absolute worst man ever- What do you mean he chose to date the heavenly demon disciple who not only caused him to die, but also threatened to destroy the entire world and everyone on it?! Shen Qingqiu is the stupidest piece of shit man I swear I’m going to murder him with my bare hands and no body will blame me, they’ll probably thank me-“

Mu Qingfang: “Shen-shixiong is being… kind to me? Shen-shixiong… smiled? Shen-shixiong is… being the most reckless man alive, oh no, Shen-shixiong, no!”

Liu Qingge, hanging up pictures of Shen Qingqiu: “I hate Shen Qingqiu.”

All of Luo Binghe’s wives are in sorry states. Well, all of them aside from Ning Yingying, who is living her best life as number two Shizun supporter (number one is Luo Binghe), and Liu Mingyan, who is also living her best life, but by writing porn about her brother’s closest (read: only) friend and a demon. Sha Hualing is in constant suffering because Luo Binghe is a tyrant and also had the gall to ask her for advice on getting into another man’s pants. The Little Palace Mistress was certainly very rude, but Luo Binghe threw her emotional support whip into acid. That’s a bit rude. The others are either dead or Luo Binghe just never notices him because he’s too distracted trying to woo Shen Qingqiu.

Ning Yingying and Liu Mingyan got off lucky. Ning Yingying, especially, really drew the luckiest lot. She went from an airhead who accidentally said things that got her buddy in trouble to a talented cultivator who purposefully says things that get her into fights. Love her picking fights with anyone who badmouths her Shizun. She tried so hard to share the number 1 Shizun fan spot with Luo Binghe, but probably decided that she didn’t want to die and backed off. She apologizes to Luo Binghe because she knows he likes to be the only one to clean Shen Qingqiu’s house. The bestest girl.

Speaking of Bing-ge, I love him. That should be obvious (I wrote a whole fic just to let him be happy) but I really like him. I like when he says “Is this about last time we met? It was on me, Shizun, I swear…” like he didn’t rip Shen Qingqiu’s arm off. I like when he’s fucking pissed that he’s losing and furious that it’s to this weaker, insignificant version of himself who is happy and in love and Shen Qingqiu cares about him and he got to taste that, just briefly, just barely he got to taste how it felt to be loved by Shen Qingqiu, only for a day, he got to feel an ounce of the easy affection and love that didn’t have to lead to sex and that was protective of him instead of expecting him to be protective of them. Shen Qingqiu didn’t expect him to be the strong one, didn’t expect him to be the powerful demon lord, had no expectations at all aside from expecting affection.

And he says “Come with me” like he’s begging for it. He doesn’t understand. He feels like it’s unfair that he didn’t get a loving Shizun. He wants that love. He wants to be chosen. And, ultimately, he leaves, but it just left an impact on me. The way he expected to find a catch but only found that Shen Qingqiu was willing to die for him.

Anyway, all that said, Scum Villain’s pretty okay. I only lie awake thinking about it occasionally. It’s alright.

[bogleech]

Haha, whoops. I had meant to set some etsy items to take 3 weeks processing time but 15 of them sold while set to 5 days. There is no way to retroactively edit this on something already sold.

....and all the buyers know that it was gonna take two more weeks, they're not mad at all!

But this is how I find out that if you have 15 orders sitting "past due," the Etsy website itself notices now and tells you you're "not meeting customer service standards," which it warns can have various penalties. Lol are you serious. Nobody has complained or left negative reviews. Are you telling me all your buyers can be happy and you can still be judged or punished based on what a fucking robot thinks

[catboyieejeno]

don't kiss and tell: 2 ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

other parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

pairings: best friend! mark + best friend! jeno + best friend! hyuck x female! reader summary: a week after the events of the kissing bet, you and the boys are having a game night. everything is going smoothly, but it seems the problem always arises when hyuck starts insisting he’s the best at something. content: non-idol au, explicit smut, cursing, pet names, drinking (everyone is tipsy), oral (f! receiving), slight poly action wc: 4.8k

masterlist

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

18+ minors do not interact !

your eyes shut tightly as though the simple gesture would make the beer you're chugging any more appetizing. from the couch, your friends whoop and clap, cheering you on.

despite their enthusiasm, you grimace at them, hiccupping.

“hyuck cheated!” the back of your arm comes up to wipe your mouth. with an exaggerated gasp, hyuck's hand flies to his chest as if your accusation could not have offended him more.

“whaaat? i did not cheat- actually, yeah, i definitely did.”

the boy yells out when you reclaim your seat beside him, landing a couple of half-hearted blows on his arm that he weakly blocks.

mark quickly recoils away from your fight, trying to protect both his red solo cup full of fizzy beer, and his last few playing cards from everyone's eyes.

"you have to drink too, then, cheater," droopy-eyed, jeno points this out from his spot on the floor where he sits, shoulders slumped and knees tucked into his chest. he lays his head onto the coffee table that has been repurposed into the night's designated gaming area, covered by an array of different cards, board games, console controllers, salt, beer cans, and a few too many lime wedges.

hyuck only whines in protest, shaking his head no, "i'm tired of playing cards," he tosses them onto the table, leaning back into the cushions with his blood-shot eyes closed.

"what? no! i was gonna win for sure this time!" mark groans.

"boohoo. you snooze, you lose, mark.” his words are somewhat slurred, spoken mockingly in a sing-song tone, “let's play another game.”

"mmm," you hum, intrigued, "like what?" the latest drink you had to chug just moments ago, thank you, hyuck, has made your cheeks glow hot, and while you're not yet drunk, you've definitely been tipsy for the last hour or so.

tiredly, you rest your head onto mark's shoulder and pat his back as he huffs, leaning in to show you his perfect hand that would have surely won him the game.

"i know! truth or dare." hyuck snaps his fingers as the idea comes to him, looking between all of you. mark finally gives up on the cards, discarding them on the table as he turns to you younger boy.

"dude, what are you," jeno snickers, "twelve?"

"jeno, truth or dare?" he pushes.

with a sigh, jeno decides to humor him and gives in, "truth," he replies, leaning back on his palms.

"is it true that you’ve been single for two years because yeeun cheated on you?”

“haha,” he mocks, “fuck your game. i’m not answering that.”

“if you don’t wanna answer, you gotta drink.” hyuck practically beams with satisfaction.

“fine.” jeno takes a swig from his cup, slightly furrowing his brows at the bitterness. he points back at the boy, suddenly more confident as an idea comes to mind, “truth or dare.”

as self-assured as ever, lee donghyuck smirks, “dare,”

“i dare you to call miyeon.”

immediately, mark snorts, taking a sip from his drink as he eyes hyuck, awaiting his reaction. as you pair the name with a face, you lift your head, gasping, “is miyeon the girl you made cry after you guys had sex?”

“that’s exactly right.” jeno nods mischievously, reaching for donghyuck’s phone and handing it to him.

“dude, no way.” he pushes it away, grabbing his cup instead, “i hooked up with her twice like four months ago and that was that.”

mark raises a brow, ”damn, were you that bad at it?”

“no!” he says incredulously, as if his question was beyond far-fetched, “i wasn’t bad at all, moron. in fact, she said i was the best head she’s ever had.” he gloats, eyebrows wiggling.

at this, you laugh. and i mean, really fucking laugh. hand-covering-your-mouth and on-the-verge-of-tears type of laugh, “yeah fucking right,” you breathe out in between giggles.

mark and jeno were just about ready to laugh in hyuck’s face too, ridicule him for bragging about something they doubted to be true, but following your reaction, they immediately bite their tongues.

hyuck turns to blink you, just as shocked as the other two boys.

"y/n... you're officially cut off." jeno pulls all the beer cans toward himself and away from you but you can only shake your head and wave him off with your hand.

“sorry,” you apologize, wiping the corner of your eye.

hyuck scoffs, “what’s so funny?”

you look between the three of them, lips parted. when you speak, your voice is bouncy with amusement, like your next words are the most obvious thing in the world:

“everyone knows guys suck at giving head.” ...cue the chaos.

“woah, what?!” jeno chokes on his spit, eyes widening.

mark puts his cup to the side, leaning in as if he might've misheard you, “there’s no way you seriously think that.”

“who the hell’s been giving you head?” hyuck retorts, sitting up straighter like he's suddenly very interested in what you have to say.

“every girl knows it." you explain plainly, "my ex was only okay at it and even then, i had to tell him what i liked a few times before he eventually got that hang of it."

now, it's the guys' turn to laugh.

hyuck chuckles in disbelief, "is that the only guy who's given you head?"

"no, there's been others." you reply with a shrug, a bit more shy with all of their eyes on you.

"like, how many, though?" the liquor was blurring all boundaries of friendship between the four of you; normally, mark would be too shy to even bring something like this up, yet here he is asking how many guys have eaten you out.

and jeno? way too respectful and modest to ask about something this, but now his eyes bore into yours, gaze unfaltering as he hangs on your every word. even lee donghyuck had never been so keen on knowing the details of your sex life.

there's a redness flourishing on your cheeks, and it's not from the beers, "...a few? i don't know. it's not like i keep count."

"none of those guys knew what they were doing, believe me."

"why should i? because one girl said you were the best she's ever had?" you mock, eyebrows raising in disbelief.

"oh," he smirks, "i'm pretty fucking good," you scoff at hyuck, crossing your arms. his eyes relax, looking at you teasingly. a line of white appears below his dark irises as he tilts his head, "what? you don't believe me?"

"no." you reply quickly.

"in all fairness, neither do i." jeno adds.

mark leans back on the couch, one arm across the top, "yeah, i gotta agree with them. sorry, man."

his tongue presses into his cheek, "alright, fine. it's my turn right? y/n, truth or dare."

you shrug, "dare."

"if you don't think my head is incredible then i dare you to let me prove you wrong."

your eyes widen. "truth." you quickly amend.

he laughs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, "okay, i'll bite: y/n, is it true that you've never come from head?"

you debate not answering, but your mouth moves before your brain can finish the thought, "that's true." you're speaking barely above a whisper.

"then let me have the honor of being the first guy who-"

"well, hold on a second,” alas, you can always trust jeno to be the voice of reason, "hyuck, i'm not letting you represent. I'm definitely better than you," or not.

"i've lived with you for four years, jeno, and i never once heard you pleasuring yeeun when you were together. besides, it's been forever since you last went down on a girl. you're rusty, dude."

"i don't know. i think the best out of us is me," mark pipes up, liquid-courage taking over, "but i happen to be biased."

"woah," as the gravity of the situation registers, you hold your arms out, "you're all talking about me like i'm not here."

"you're right, princess," at hyuck's pet name, your clit pulses and you suddenly feel that much more intoxicated, even though you're barely even tipsy anymore, "so tell me, who do you want to eat you out?"

if you were completely sober, you would probably have said something along the lines of "what the fuck? ew! none of you." or maybe "who says i want any of you to eat me out?"

some snarky comment—or any comment at all, really—would've suited you just fine! but, the reality is: the mere possibility of your three best friends going down on you is causing your thighs to squeeze together subconsciously.

so of course, your words betray you, and what you end up pathetically muttering is "i-i'm not sure."

"hey, wait a second." hyuck turns to mark, then jeno, "this feels familiar, doesn't it?" the boys catch on to what he's saying, snickering quietly, "we all think we're the best right? so, why don't we make a little bet?"

you instantly whine in protest, "no, no way. i don't want you guys to make me pick a winner again."

"oh, don't worry," jeno brings a hand up to your knee, thumb rubbing your skin, "we'll definitely know who won this time around." he looks at hyuck, "trust me... we'll hear it," and you think, this may be the first time they so easily agree on something.

instinctively, you turn to your other side in search of mark who is already looking back at you through half-lidded eyes. he knew by your gaze exactly what you needed to hear.

"if this is something you want to do," his hand comes down from the top of the couch and onto your back to rub it soothingly, "then just say it, baby. we won't think differently of you. i know i speak for all of us when i say," his tongue swipes at his lips, "this will be as much fun for us as it will be for you."

you nod slowly, hips squirming, and let out a little breath. "okay. yeah, okay."

hyuck's eyes light up at your response and he shuffles back to make room in front of him, "lay down, pretty girl."

your stomach does a flip, unaccustomed to the collection of pet names hyuck is trying on you tonight, and you’re entirely sure there will be more coming from him, not to mention the other two boys.

you scoot down toward hyuck, brushing your hair to one side. behind you, mark pats his lap twice and you lie back, head resting on his thighs. when your eyes blink up at him nervously, he can't help but smile crookedly, captivated by you— so much so, that his pants get a noticeably tighter when he realizes he has the best view in the house.

"let me know if you wanna stop," mark reassures you.

"i don’t,” you mumble, keeping your voice steady despite the nerves and excitement bubbling in your stomach, “i don’t wanna stop.”

jeno sits a bit closer, "okay, but if at any point you're not sure, just let us know, yeah?"

"god, i can't wait to watch you fall apart." your head snaps back up to mark, and you clench around nothing at his words. there’s no way you haven’t pooled your panties by now, especially with the way you’re cunt is throbbing, edged on by the alcohol content in in your bloodstream.

"alright, baby. can i be honest?" hyuck asks.

you look down at him and nod your head yes, shivering when his fingers brush the hem of your shirt up a to reveal the button of your shorts and some of your stomach. a gasp leaves your lips as hyuck leans in, lips hovering over your exposed skin, breath tickling you with every exhale.

"i've imagined doing this to you many times," he continues, "you're so fucking hot." as he undoes the button and slides your zipper down, he places a single kiss above your bellybutton.

with one hand, he tugs off your shorts. they’re quickly discarded somewhere along on the floor and you're left in nothing but your panties.

now, the only thing left to cover your core from their hungry eyes is a thin, black strip of lace and cotton, and hyuck has to purse his lips to avoid drooling at the sight. his mouth is salivating, two fingers hooking around the material, "can i?" when you wordlessly nod, he purses his lips.

"tsk, tsk. try again."

"yes, hyuck. take them off.” you whisper.

he hums in approval and bemusement, removing the fabric in one smooth motion. your panties join your shorts on the floor.

every part of you is buzzing with sensitivity. the cool breeze that hits your slick makes you let out a shaky breath, and jeno chuckles from beside you.

both of hyuck’s hands slide up your bare legs and stop at your knees to gently guide them apart. he then settles between your thighs, sucking in a breath at the looks of you. your pretty folds are covered in your arousal, glistening, begging to be touched.

you can't help but feel small under the gaze of all three boys who gawk at you, growing hard in their pants at the way you're so pleasantly displayed for them.

"fuck, your pussy is so pretty." hyuck's eyes finally meet yours as he leans in to press a kiss to your thigh, one of his arms wrapping around to hold it in place, a preemptive measure, “i’m gonna make you come so hard,”

“we’ll see,” you tease, wiggling your hips slightly as if testing his grip and patience.

he only manages to scoffs at you, committed to doing it right; he wouldn’t bother to argue your lack of faith with words… as promised, he would simply prove you wrong.

you suppress a hiss as his tongue pokes out to lick a clean stripe from your entrance to your clit, eyes locked on yours and watching the way your lips part. teasingly, he kisses your sensitive bud a few times, tongue flattening against it as he seeks out how every action provokes a new reaction from you.

softly, just to test the waters, he attaches his mouth to you and sucks. when your hips slightly buck up, he takes a mental note, pulling back to lap at you again.

your core is buzzing eagerly, receptive to each new touch and sensation. everything felt fucking good, and he’s barely even begun. for the first time tonight, you think you’re definitely in over your head.

your first moan surprises you when he dips his tongue into you, fucking you with it at a passive pace, and you can’t help but lean up onto your elbows to get a better view of his face pressed into your cunt.

“you’re so beautiful,” jeno praises. his hand reaches up to hold your face and you lean into his touch, panting slightly as hyuck swipes at your folds. jeno trails his fingers down to stop at the hem of your shirt, eyes blinking at you for permission.

you nod, grabbing his hand and guiding it to push up the material of your shirt, revealing both of your breasts that sit covered by your bra. with a low groan, he squeezes one softly, still with your fingers over his, and brings the other to his pants to rub himself over the material.

mark grabs your other breast, whispering a quiet ‘wow’ in appreciation. you turn and he leans in, face properly close to yours now that you’re almost sitting yourself up. when his lips meet yours, you whine into his mouth, kissing him feverishly.

so much is happening at once, so many eager touches brushing your skin, so many sounds to listen for.

mark moans into your mouth at your kiss, jeno moans as he palms himself, and hyuck grinds into the couch, moaning into your core, shooting vibrations through you.

when you pull away from mark's soft lips, it’s because hyuck starts to pick up his pace, requiring some of the attention back on him now that he’s paid attention to and noted what you seem to like.

“oh, my god,” you mumble, letting your head fall back as your best friend works his tongue into you. your panting turns into whimpering, hips involuntarily grinding down into his mouth. the sounds get louder as he gets messier, shaking his head, arms holding your thighs down when they threaten to close.

hyuck smirks against you as he senses your desperation, taking one finger and slipping it into you as his mouth focuses on pleasuring your clit.

"how does it feel, baby?" mark whispers into your skin, lips trailing your neck and shoulder.

"so—fuck, hyuck, it feels so good," you moan out, no longer holding back. you're so close, and he knows it, so naturally, he adds another finger.

as you come, sputtering a string of incoherent pleas and praises, mark watches your face, admiring every expression you make. jeno has to stop palming himself at the risk of coming in his pants; instead, he focuses on gripping your breast and waist, squeezing occasionally.

hyuck keeps his pace up until he sees you're coming down, and only then does he slow down with you. when you recover, you're left panting, looking down at him in awe, and he feels his dick twitch. he crawls up to you, a mix of his spit and your release dripping down his mouth and chin, and kisses you. it's lewd, obscene, but you kiss him back hungrily, savoring your taste on his lips.

“not bad, huh?” he mumbles into your kiss.

“not bad at all,” you reply shakily, sitting up all the way. hyuck moves back, wiping his mouth with his thumb.

unable to wait any longer, jeno gets up from the floor, “my turn, doll. ready for round two?” he holds his hand out, which you take, standing up despite the wobbling in your knees.

“can this come off?” he tugs at your shirt. you quickly nod, pulling it over your head with his assistance. his lips find your chest and immediately, he's biting and kissing the part of your boobs that spills from the cups of your bra.

"bend over," he pulls away.

"what?"

"bend over the couch," by your hips, he spins you around, and you kneel on the cushions as instructed, grabbing onto the top and arching your back for him. when his hand comes down to land a slap on your ass, you cry out.

donghyuck, watching with intrigue from beside you, calls out to his friend, "she tastes so good, man," while he brushes your hair behind your ear.

"i'm sure she does," jeno lowers himself so that he's right between your legs. before his mouth even attaches to you, his fingers pull and tug your skin, playing with the way your thighs feel in his grip.

"are you ready, babe?"

"jeno," you start, "why do you always have to warn me before you-aah, shit," in less than a second, he's lapping you up, spitting and sucking at your folds. maybe its because you're still sensitive from your last orgasm, or maybe it’s jeno's eagerness to please you, but you find yourself writhing and squirming with every touch, much more than with donghyuck. and—when his nose bumps you in a particularly delicious way, all the while his tongue is massaging your clit—you whimper, arching even more.

he's moving his head up and down, something like a nod, to provide you with more friction, to taste more of you at once, gripping your skin tightly to hold you still or otherwise guide you where he wants you. it’s sloppy and messy, and you can’t resist moaning out his name.

“jeno, please, please don’t stop,”

you swipe your tongue at your lips to wet them and mark catches it. how could he not? his eyes have been on you all night. he reaches up, prodding at your bottom lip with his thumb. when your eyes meet his, his jaw goes slack and you mirror him, opening your mouth just enough for his digit to slip past your lips.

everything feels so overwhelmingly good in this moment—your lips wrapping around and sucking on mark's finger, hyuck pulling your bra down enough so he can pinch one of your nipples, jeno's tongue pushing into your entrance, two fingers coming up to rub your bud in quick circles—god, you feel like you're on fucking fire. each touch stands out as much as the other, each one makes your head spin and your eyes roll back.

jeno's pace hasn't let up once, and you spare a second to wonder if he's even breathing at this point.

"are you close, baby?" when you nod, mark takes his finger back, "then, say it, baby. tell me how close you are."

"i'm close, i'm so close. i'm-"

and then, it hits you.

you moan loudly, letting your head fall as jeno's fingers speed up. the sensation is almost too much, but when you try to recoil, his large hand that sits on your waist holds you still.

he's groaning into your cunt and it only makes you come harder. your toes are curling at the feeling, eyes squeezing shut. he doesn't stop or slow down like hyuck did; in fact, he keeps going until you're gasping out for air, legs squeezing together in desperation. he drives you until you're so intensely overwhelmed that you're seeing the stars behind your eyelids.

when he finally let's you go, you lean forward and prop yourself against the back of the couch as you catch your breath.

you feel him come up behind you, moving your hair out of the way to blow cool air on your neck, "y/n, that was the hottest thing ever," he mumbles and kisses your shoulder, resting his head on it.

"that was insane," you whisper, lifting your head to look at him. instinctively, he leans it to kiss you, tangling his fingers into the root of your hair. it's short and breathy, and when you pull apart to look for mark, he's no longer sitting on the couch.

your head pans around, "mark-?"

"i'm here, babe," a second after he calls out to you, he jogs over from the kitchen carrying a cold water bottle that he hands you, "drink some water, baby."

you twist the cap off and tilt the bottle back, replenishing your thirst, then handing the bottle to jeno, who chugs some down, also.

"thank you," you sigh out.

"yeah, course,"

jeno finishes the bottle and of course, hyuck instantly complains, "damn, dude, thanks,"

"you're welcome," jeno sighs sarcastically, tossing him the empty container. hyuck throws it right back, and they get distracted by that for a moment.

meanwhile, you turn to mark as he sits on the couch beside you, giving you some time to recover, which you don't bother to take. you're too interested in him, leaning in and pressing your lips to his soft ones hurriedly.

he wastes no time in kissing you back, just as delicately as he did earlier today, and just as passionately as he did last week. you crawl over so that you're closer, sucking on his bottom lip, swiping at it with your tongue.

mark hums into your mouth when your hand lands on his fully hardened bulge, "today's about you, sweet baby," he brushes your hair back, "come on, i want you to sit on my face."

your eyes widen slightly and he laughs, pulling you by the arm as he lies back and guides your hips up to his face.

"fuck, you're so pretty like this," he mumbles, eyes raking up and down your body as you hover above his face. you giggle, reaching behind your back to snap off your bra. as it comes off, you notice him staring, lips parted and teeth pressed tightly together to sound out a hiss.

"c'mere," his arms wrap around your thighs to tug you closer and you lower yourself until his mouth lightly brushes you. a shiver goes down your spine. you're so sensitive right now, on the verge of falling apart, but you need to feel mark's mouth on you.

his tongue licks you once over, then again, lingering for a moment on your clit. he kisses you there a few times, pulling away only to admire how swollen and wet you are from the events of the night.

you're starting to realize how much mark likes taking his time with you, savoring the taste of your lips before and now, relishing in the taste of your pussy. so, you intend to tease him a bit, just because you can.

one of your hands comes up to squeeze your boob, toying with your nipple, the other one running down and through his hair, nails scratching at his scalp.

he hums in appreciation, watching the way you play with yourself and stare down at him, bottom lip between your teeth.

he breathes hot air into your core when he chuckles. then, he lays his tongue flat against your core, guiding you to grind on it. you moan out quietly, practically whimpering as he sets your movements to a pace. the slurping sounds get progressively louder as his brows furrow in concentration.

"do you like that?" his voice is muffled, but you understand him nonetheless.

"yes, baby, right there," you whine, squirming a bit when his tongue moves side to side, a gesture so delectable that you react by tugging on his hair. at the pet name, falling from your lips so sweetly, exclusively for him, mark grunts into your core. he lifts his head off the couch slightly to rock you against him with more ease.

you lose track of jeno and hyuck and you can no longer hear them behind you. the only sounds now are the wet sounds coming from between your legs and the strangled moans coming from your throat.

it’s so intimate and intoxicating, the eye contact he holds with you, determined to catch every hint of desperation on your features. when he pulls away for air and you whine at the loss of contact, making him laugh yet again, "you make such pretty noises for me," one of mark's arms unwraps itself from your thigh, right hand reaching up to cup your breast. "i want you to come on my tongue,"

he attaches himself to you once more and his words send you over the edge, "mark, i'm-" the only reason you don't fall over is because as you reach for something to hold onto, mark takes your hand into his hold, intertwining your fingers. he moans into you, letting his tongue explore in you and against you until your juices are dripping down the sides of his face and his chin.

the pleasure is white hot and so unbelievably intense, melting your thoughts to mush. you’re trembling above him, bottom lip quivering from the waves of ecstasy that hit you full force.

and mark? he’s staring at you, his own hips slightly tilting up as he imagines all the other ways he could make you come. his own release is so close, the black jeans he’s wearing lending him just enough friction to groan in you again. he could come untouched just from the view you’re giving him.

when you finally still your movements, he kisses your bud and you shake a little, "you did so good." his voice is hoarse, lower than usual from the way he just devoured you.

"that was amazing," you whisper weakly, lifting yourself off of him. he pulls you in so that you're lying down, your face is level with his, "please kiss me," you plead innocently.

incapable of denying you anything, especially when you ask so politely, mark pulls you in by your jaw, kissing you softly.

"did you have fun?"

you nod, "yeah, i did. did you?"

"fuck yes. i literally almost came in my pants." he admits. you laugh and nuzzle your face into the material of his hoodie to hide the way your cheeks are turning bright red.

at the sound of feet padding against the floor, the two of you break apart slightly and turn to see jeno coming in from the kitchen, water clutched in his right hand.

"where's donghyuck?" you wonder.

"bathroom," jeno snorts, "said he had to rub one out."

"of course he did," mark sighs.

"yeah, uh, so do i... so," he clears his throat, "i'll be in my room," awkwardly, he walks away, one hand cupped over his crotch as if you and mark didn't know he was obviously turned on.

when jeno disappears behind his door, you turn back around to look at the boy you're laying on top of and- oh shit.

"oh, my god-sorry!" you rush out in a panic, lifting yourself up, "sorry, sorry!"

"no, it's fine, bab- i mean, y/n."

"i-uh, got caught up in the moment." you quickly explain, apologizing again. when you grab your shirt and panties and slip them on, mark turns around to give you privacy.

"no, you're good. it's fine, i got caught up, too, i-"

"mark, you don't have to turn around like you haven't seen me, i just sat on your face."

"right," he spins back around slowly, but not before fixing himself in his pants a bit, "do you," he sighs, calming his heart, "do you want me to get you some of my clothes so you can take a shower? you can sleep over, too, if you want. it's kinda late."

"yeah," you nod, "that'd be great."

"okay, uh, i'll take the couch. let me," his mouth is exceedingly dry, "go get you something to wear."

you finish putting on your shorts, just so you can be decent for now, as mark leaves, somehow more nervously than jeno had just moments ago.

exhausted, for more reasons than one, you lean against the couch, hands covering your face. everything that went down flashes before your eyes as you sigh heavily, busy with your thoughts.

there's simply no way you'll be able to sleep tonight.

ੈ♡˳

[radioapplerevue]

Radioapple Fic Recs #2

I'm finally getting around to updating my fic recs, and I decided that it would get a bit too unwieldy to just keep adding on to the original post. So, from now on I'll be putting them into different parts and then linking them in an archive post, which I will pin on my blog. For now, my first post of recs can be found here.

There are also a bunch of unfinished fics that I have been keeping an eye on that I haven't read yet because they are fairly early on and their tags say something along the lines of "it gets worse before it gets better" haha. There are enough fics grinding my heart into dust at the moment, but just know that I am seeing those chapter counts go up. I'm Watching You.

Now, onto the recs!

Home Stretch by @tarmairons (mature)

Welcome to the most convoluted game of 20 questions I've ever seen. I love the slow, purposeful approach to showing how Lucifer and Alastor's relationship is shifting and merging to not only accommodate each other, but also tie them closer together. This is an entire fic of them attempting to communicate and really, honestly trying even if neither of them are sure of what the hell they're doing. And, of course, I love when fics really take the time to explore how Alastor's asexuality (and lack of experience with intimacy in general) would affect his approach and behavior when it comes to sex with Lucifer -- and also how Lucifer learns to handle Alastor in a way that meets his needs, even if the things Alastor needs are not what Lucifer's used to.

2. To Be The Perfect Angel, Some Sin Must Be Done by @hismercytomyjustice (ratings vary by part)

This is a series I've really super been enjoying, largely because it's just fun. Don't get me wrong, the explicit parts are hot too, but it's fucking funny and there's just such an enjoyable push and pull dynamic between Alastor and Lucifer here, where each give as good as they get and actually end up... maybe.... enjoying it? Whoops? And oh shit here comes feelings, where did those come from. And as always, I enjoy seeing how Alastor's asexuality is handled here, with his discomfort with making decisions or taking the lead in bed causing them to develop a dynamic where Lucifer makes all the calls, and Alastor makes the terrifying choice to trust him with his own body, pleasure, and safety. Plus, excellent use of the shadow here. Having the shadow play a significant role in a fic is always one of my favorite things, and I am also very here for shadow fucking at all times.

3. somewhere down the line by kj_crwn (explicit)

This is one of the "Alastor and Lucifer meet in the living world first" fics. I love Lucifer basically just coming up to the living world to be the biggest nuisance to Alastor he could possibly be, but whoops, I guess Alastor's into that. There's a lot of murder, a lot of two assholes trying to drive each other nuts (and succeeding), a lot of sexual tension, and a lot of said assholes being really, really bad at feelings. I particularly enjoy what happens from the time of Alastor's death up to the conclusion of the fic, and the way they have to come to grips with what their relationship is now, what it could be, and what they want it to be.

4. T is for Tax Evasion by @radiaurapple (teen and up)

This is a brand new fic, but my goodness I loved it immediately. I loved the take on Heaven's fucked up bureaucracy, I loved Lucifer's panic, guilt and weariness, and I love how God is a fucking dick. It's such an interesting concept that is explored through Lucifer's slowly crumbling psyche as the knowledge he's going to lose Alastor becomes more and more certain. Or is it? There are few things I love more than pre-emptive grief and utter desperation, and the emotional payoff is just so good. I would have loved to have seen more of the fallout, but regardless, this is one that I'll definitely be thinking about for a while.

5. I Will Dance Divine by @rahabs (mature)

This fic caught my attention immediately. A large part of is exploring Alastor and Lucifer's relationship through dance, and the first chapter is immediately gripping. There's such an immediate magnetism to them, as well as the clash between the performance they are putting on and the quiet battle they are having with each other. It made me so look forward to seeing where it goes. So far it seems to be a slow, but very thorough burn, with the fic taking its time to really let them come together naturally, and learn about each other in tantalizing pieces. I dearly hope it is continued as I want to see more, but what there is already is also a wonderful read.

6. Muzzle for My Lover by sabbathgoat (explicit)

This is a smutty one-shot, but it has one of my favorite depictions of a sexual dynamic between Alastor and Lucifer in anything. There's such a deep undercurrent of trust here, a trust that has been hard-earned over years. Lucifer's handling of Alastor, knowledge of his fluctuating boundaries and internal battles when it comes to his own body and desires, combined with his intense love and tenderness towards him just bleeds through the entire fic. I would happily read a several chapter story with them just lying there cuddling and doing nothing else if it was written with this same weight. It's one of those cases where you don't need to be told how in love they are, because it's impossible to not feel it.

7. Stolen Moments by @mothballmilkshake (ratings vary by part)

This series is quite the rollercoaster! Alastor and Lucifer's relationship in it hits some great highs and also some serious lows, because they are both so so bad at this oh my god. I like that it's from Alastor's POV, because I feel like we don't get that very often, particularly in the longer fics. And I also like that it just shows us what an absolute fucking disaster he is, haha. The continuing plot line regarding Alastor's deal is interesting and groundwork is being laid for some serious shit to go down later on. We'll have to see if Lucifer and Alastor's foundation has been built strong enough by then to not crumble under the pressure. But hey, after all they've gone through, I believe in them (.....mostly).

8. Hope Against Hope by OrlesianHat (explicit)

I don't tend to be into non-canon AUs, but I found I enjoyed this one quite a lot. Lucifer is being sent on a blind date, and the person he meets isn't exactly what he expected... or is he? There's no murder involved so automatically the fic is much gentler than canon would be, particularly with Alastor, but a while after reading it I had to go digging to find it again because something about it stuck with me. I love Alastor's unrepentant selfishness, and Lucifer's long-suffering mood of 'these are things I really should not be okay with but apparently I'm okay with them because I'm still here'. If you're looking for something a little softer after all the angsty cliffhangers we get in other fics (the angsty cliffhanger in this one has been resolved, thank you), then this might be for you.

[rogueddie]

Sweet Nothings T | 545 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is wanting to do everything with someone, even if it's nothing special

Eddie has his keys in hand, holding his jacket with his teeth as he gets ready to leave, when someone knocks on the door.

"Hiya, Ed," Steve greets with a grin, that quickly falters. "Oh, sorry, is it a bad time?"

"Sorta? You're not interrupting anything important."

"But you have other plans. No worries, I'll- uh... what are you going out for?"

"Need a part for the van. Was gonna head up to the scrap yard, see if I could find anything there."

"Oh, cool. I could help, if you want?"

"You sure? It's pretty boring."

"Nah, it'll be fun! C'mon, tell me what you need."

Steve steps back, waving Eddie over to his car.

"You sure you want us to go in your car? Some of the shit we're grabbing is gonna be dirty."

"So I'll clean it? Come on, I'm excited now."

"Excited to go digging through a scrap yard?"

"With you? Yeah." He walks back over, gently pushing Eddie towards his car. "We can make it fun! And I know Henderson has been on your ass as much as he has been on mine about us finally hanging out."

"You're just bored with nothing else to do, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I am. But, hey, two birds with one stone!"

Eddie sighs, finally stepping to the passenger door, rolling his eyes. "Fine, whatever, let's go."

Steve whoops, doing a little fistpump, before rushing to the car when Eddie raises an eyebrow at him.

He keeps up conversation the entire drive and Eddie quickly realises that Steve... he genuinely loves cars. He doesn't know a lot about how they work and, knowing now that Eddie does, he has a lot of questions.

Eddie is happy to answer them.

At the scrapyard, they end up distracted almost immediately. Eddie ends up spending most of the time showing Steve how engines work.

Thanks to the visual and practical aid, Steve learns fast. It only takes him two attempts and a lot of running around, tearing other shit apart, to get one of the abandoned, broken engines to roar to life.

It sputters out as soon as it starts, but it does start.

"This stuff is so cool!" Steve says, bouncing on the balls of his feet, as they finally head back to the car.

Thanks to how much destruction they'd thoroughly caused, finding the little replacement part that Eddie needed hadn't taken long.

"Yeah, surprisingly so."

"Aww," Steve coos, teasingly. "But are you saying that because you mean it or because you love me?"

"It can't be both?"

"That- oh, haha."

"Didn't even mean to make that pun. I'm just that funny, huh."

"No, your jokes are terrible."

"Steve, hey," Eddie stops, faking a serious tone. "You can't say things like that about your boyfriend, it's not nice."

"What are you, the love police?"

"Yes. Put your hands up, you're under arrest."

Steve sticks his tongue out at him, before sprinting off to the car.

Eddie is hot on his heels, struggling to keep himself from laughing as he yells after him, unable to bite back the grin.

He can't help but wonder how he'll ever manage to come back to the scrapyard without Steve.

Nothing is ever as fun as it is when they're together.

[sserpente]

Blood on a Silver Platter

Synopsis: You are a human slave forced to serve your master the night he hosts a dinner party for some special guests. Only when you meet Astarion, you realise that the reason you were bought was not for your services... but for your blood.

A/N: Whoops. Oh dear, what is this sassy vampire doing on my blog? Seriously, I started playing Baldur's Gate 3 two nights ago but I've been obsessed with Astarion even before that. If you follow me on that fancy picture app, you'll know I've met Neil before and I can't emphasise enough how much of a sweetheart he is. He truly has a hand for these sassy characters, haha! Have fun reading!

Words: 1749 Warnings: blood, feeding, slave!Reader

Astrid didn’t like new girls. They were shy, terrified, angry, and stubborn and they knew nothing about how this place was run, where the dishes, the cutlery, and the crystal wine glasses were. But how would you? You had a right to be terrified. You had a right to be angry. How else would you feel, sold and enslaved like cattle or a piece of furniture?

Ezekiel, your new master, had made it very clear to you from the very beginning that you were easily replaceable if you did not obey. Human slaves did not sell for much in these parts, for they lacked strength, agility… and longevity compared to other species. You could not argue with that—and that made you even more furious.

He was hosting a dinner party tonight, a group of travellers if you’d heard correctly. Of course, none of you were supposed to ask questions. You were merely there to serve and make them comfortable. You sighed. You had been on your feet all day, preparing the feast and preparing the table.

By the time Ezekiel received his guests, Astrid was screaming the place down in the kitchens. She was not a slave—your master paid for her services and left her in charge of the girls he bought to do the dirty work for them. You hated them both.

Right after the main course was served and the guests began to eat, Astrid handed you a jug of red elven wine. Her ice-cold eyes bore into yours. “Ezekiel asked for you specifically to serve the wine before the main course. Do not speak unless you’re spoken to. Refill the wine, keep your head down, and leave, is that understood?”

“Yes.” You gnashed your teeth, biting back a snarky remark when she pushed you through the doorway and you almost spilled the expensive alcohol on the stone tiles to your feet.

It was the first time you got to lay your eyes on Ezekiel’s mysterious guests. None of them were human, not at first glance.

There was one with green skin, another with red skin and horns protruding from their forehead… a tiefling… one of them, however, stood out to you the most; he was sitting at the head of the table. His short blonde hair was wild, complimenting those sharp ears, the pale skin, and his eyes… red pupils.

You quickly looked down when you realised your master noticed your rude staring, refilling their wine glasses as instructed by Astrid. The blonde man’s gaze bore into you the closer you got to him, intrigue apparent on his face.

“Well then, my honoured guests. Dinner is served. Enjoy your meal. That goes for you too, Astarion. I hope she is to your satisfaction. I got her from the slave market only three days ago.” Ezekiel leaned over to another slave girl. “Take that jug from her.”

Astarion. You did not fail to notice that his plate was the only one that was still empty. But you realised a moment too late what exactly your master’s words entailed. The slave girl you handed the jug to was only slightly older than you but you didn’t even know her name. All you knew was that the both of you dreaded what Ezekiel had in store for you, for as soon as your hands were empty, Astarion grabbed your wrist and pulled you toward him.

“Why, hello, darling.”

Losing your balance, you stumbled, landing on his lap. He was quick to snake his arm around your waist to keep you from escaping. He buried his free hand in your hair and tugged on it hard enough to force you to reveal your neck to him.

Your eyes widened when you caught a glimpse of his fangs right before he sank them deep into your throat, breaking the skin. You flinched, the burning sensation quickly turning into a pulling pain that had you shaking on his lap, and then… the panic kicked in and dug its claws deep into your guts.

Pushing your palms flat against his chest, you attempted to push yourself off of him, your survival instinct getting the better of you. You winced when the pain intensified and Astarion pressed you even closer against him as he drank from you. His lips on your neck sent shivers down your spine and the more you fought, the more he seemed to be enjoying himself.

It felt like an eternity and as your body grew weaker, your determination to drive a stake through his heart grew with each passing second.

Finally, Astarion released you. He licked his lips, red with your blood, an almost lascivious noise escaping him. When he let go, you slid off of him with the last of your remaining strength, almost toppling to the floor in the process.

“Hmm… thank you, darling,” you heard him say. “You taste absolutely delightful.”

You did not turn around to see the smug expression that would match his tone on his face. Instead, you hurried back to the kitchens with trembling limbs, processing what had just happened. Your mind was near empty. As if along with your blood, he’d sucked every other thought from you as well. You swallowed thickly.

He bit you. He drank your blood. He almost killed you. He used you like a living blood bag. Was this why Ezekiel had bought you?

“Where is the new girl? I asked her to do one simple job, for the love of the gods!”

“Astrid, I’m not sure she…” It was the girl who had taken the wine jug from you who spoke up. She knew that something bad would happen, she must have. You had seen it in her eyes when your gazes had crossed.

“I’m here now,” you croaked out. Your throat was dry. You didn’t want to go back out there. Didn’t want to help serve dessert, didn’t want to face him again after what he’d just done to you with everyone watching as if it didn’t concern them, eating their fucking stag steak for dinner.

“A-Astrid… would… w-would you mind s-serving dessert, p-please?” you chirped.

“And what do you dream of at night?” She came barging in from the pantry, arms akimbo and practically fuming. You swallowed thickly, clenching your fists in a weak attempt to control your shaking. It was with great satisfaction that you noticed her face fall when you turned around, revealing the small trickles of blood running down the fresh bite mark on your neck.

Her eyes widened. You were quite certain you had never seen her stutter before.

“Go… you can… g-go wash up. I’ll take care of the desserts.”

“Thank you.” You nodded, rushing past the other slave girls, all of them staring at you with widened eyes, and barged into the small washing room adjacent to the kitchens. A dirty kitchen towel would have to do to wash the blood off of you.

With trembling fingers, you rubbed at your sensitive skin until almost all evidence of his assault was gone before leaning over to wash your face. You used the cleanest-looking part of the kitchen towel to pat yourself dry before you took a deep breath and opened your eyes again—facing Astarion in the mirror right behind you. The gasp that escaped your lips echoed through the almost empty room. Instinctively, you stepped back, only to realise a fraction of a second too late that you would bump straight into his chest.

The vampire grabbed your arms and flipped you around fast so you’d face him, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Hello there,” he purred. “No need to be so frightened, dear.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. It was the amusement in his voice that had you seethe, anger pushing your fear out of the way for just a moment. “Of course not. Why would I be? You only just bit me and drank my blood like I’m some sort of snack.”

“Oh but are a snack,” he retorted, chuckling. “And you were quite a delicious one too.”

You stared at him. “What do you want?”

“I want you to come see me tonight.”

Frowning, you processed his words. He couldn’t possibly mean…

Astarion laughed. “You are looking so frightened again. I promise I will make it worth your while.”

“And if I don’t want to?” you whispered. You were a slave—your question was entirely redundant. It wasn’t like you had a choice. Ezekiel had practically delivered you to Astarion on a silver platter.

“Well, Ezekiel expects me to kill you tonight.”

You felt your heart plummet.

“I understand it he only bought a human slave for the occasion. To satiate my hunger and for my… entertainment tonight. Surely, he is aware how feeble mortal lives are, it is almost a waste to invest in human slaves.” You gnashed your teeth. “But there is an alternative,” he continued.

“What alternative?” you snapped.

“I could use a travelling companion. A… loyal blood slave, so to speak, and I must say I did not expect human blood to taste so delightful.”

Your frown deepened. A blood slave… to a vampire, following him like an obedient and lost puppy… you would rather die than give up your body like that. But was it truly worse than serving your current master knowing he had killed former slaves for dropping plates before? Knowing that the sole reason he had purchased you was to please one of his guests?

One thing was certain—you did not want to die and at least… he was quite handsome, was he not?

“What do you say, dearest?” Astarion’s brushed his knuckles against your cheek. He took a step forward, pressing you against the doorframe and trapping you between the solid wood and his strong body.

You sucked in a deep breath when he bent your head to the side, revealing the bite mark he had left on you. You prepared for another rush of sharp pain tearing through your neck, squeezing your eyes shut in response.

Instead, you felt his tongue dart out to taste you with a start, licking over the wound.

“There… all healed. For now,” he added with a sly smirk. You frowned, your hand flying up to feel your neck. He was right. The two little holes where his fangs had punctuated your skin were gone. And yet… his sly smirk was a silent promise that this was only the beginning of your time together.

A/N: Check out my blog for more Imagines and my original novel(s)! ♥

[senblades]

Just realized that Crow and Violet enter the Phantom thieves group with the same condition, though not the same circumstances.

They both first Joined as a fake of themselves, fooling everyone. Then they were a 2-phase boss fight, where the true self gets revealed. Then they join the team, for good and for real.

Hmmmmmmmmm

ANON YOU'RE SO RIGHT I'M

I'll always be a little sad that Atlus never went all-in on the SumiGoro friendship/parallels potential... o7 another fallen dynamic for the pit

in all seriousness, though: many people have talked about the Akechi and Sumire parallels far better than I ever could, but I'll talk some more anyway!

I think the most obvious parallel is in who they admire/resent. Sumire, obviously, admires Kasumi in every way- undercut with resentment that she's scared to ackowledge. Akechi, meanwhile, resents Joker to hell and back, undercut with layers of admiration that he refuses to admit to (+ uh. shauke angst HAHA)

Both are lying to themselves about their other halves, but even more interestingly: Both Kasumi and Joker see Sumire and Akechi respectively as their equals/rivals, despite everything, and even though it may seem that one half is clearly better than the other at first glance.

Sumire's coach, during the Faith confidant, tells Sumire how Kasumi had worked so hard because she knew if she didn't, Sumire would catch up to her- that Kasumi was jealous of Sumire's grace (Ironic, as meanwhile Sumire was desperate to emulate Kasumi's boldness)

Joker's a bit different -silent protag, and all- but, even still: "I'll hold onto you're glove", "I won't lose"- so much of Joker's dialogue about Akechi makes it clear that he takes the other seriously. Plus, the consistent reminders that the promise for a rematch hasn't been fulfilled: clearly, Joker doesn't consider the interrogation room nor the engine room 'fair fights', or true indicators of either's skill (stop me before I go on a tangent)

It's not just Joker=Kasumi and Sumire=Akechi, though. The fact that both sides of each equation are equals means that some lines get crossed. I'm thinking Kasumi's "Because that's my right, as the elder sister!" vs. Akechi's "Going all out against a junior seems a bit gauche, don't you think?"- both Kasumi and Akechi seem to have this idea that they have to be better (a bit of speculation on my part, for Kasumi)- they have no excuse to lose; it's only natural if they win, and incredibly dissapointing otherwise.

back to crow/violet parallels, they also act as excellent foils for each other in the royal trio dynamic: Sumire, when faced with low self-esteem and terrible circumstances, latches onto people that she considers "better"- imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, after all! And Sumire has imitation in spades.

Akechi, meanwhile, distances himself from pretty much everyone. He seems to value shallow praise of people that don't really see, rather than experience the mortifying ordeal of being known, and whatnot.

but even then, Akechi does have some similar tendencies to Sumire- he just hides it under layers of deflection and lying to himself. He claims to absolutely hate Shido and Joker, and while I don't doubt that, necessarily, it's clearly far more complicated than that. Akechi, no matter how he feels about them, lives and dies by the will of his obsessions- and by the time of the third semster, he's had enough. (while, conversely, Sumire hasn't quite learned to stand on her own)

Actually, speaking of the third semester; Maruki's reality also highlights some similarities between the two, as the two people most egregiously edited by the false reality: Sumire, back to believing she's Kasumi, and Akechi as "I've never had a violent thought in my life!" pleasant boy. Those two are the only members of the PT where Maruki goes straight for the personality.

whoops. long post HAHA

[drdemonprince]

Your post about "transitioning to escape gender but then there's more gender" has been rotating furiously in my mind since I saw it. When I first realized I was trans at age 15, I identified as agender, but I knew I wanted to go on T and get top surgery so I decided it would be simpler to tell everyone I was a trans man and that just kind of became the truth. Now 10 years later I'm sorta starting to feel like I wanna actually be agender again, but the idea of an identity shift like that at my current age is terrifying and idek who I'd tell, or how I'd do it, and I don't think I wanna stop using he/him exclusively, and I have no idea why I'm telling *you* this other than that I'm scared to talk to anyone I know about it because it feels like somehow admitting that I was wrong about the gender I fought like hell to become, even though i don't really think that's the case I think my sense of self might just be continuously evolving... but I just wanna say you talking about having a gender shift like once every several years is helping me process this rn and feel like I'm not faking anything now AND wasn't faking anything before.

Dog i am right there with you. As a kid I always thought gender was bullshit, the coercive nature of it disgusted and scared me and I rebelled against it the best that I could. I loathed being assigned to any gender category, I never identified as a "girl", but I didn't really identify with any other category either. Puberty terrified me (and of course, it does most young people, but it felt like it would only more deeply entrench the category that I was assigned to in other people's minds, it made it more difficult to escape). I had trans friends as a teen but it did not occur to me to transition because there was really no end goal that I wanted to head toward, I just knew what I wanted to avoid and not experience. I coped mostly by degendering my body with a fairly androgynous style and way of presenting myself to the word and mannerisms, but also by starving myself which was not so great, and not sustainable. I considered transness for myself, even trying on a friend's binder and presenting masculinely at certain queer events, but it seemed to me at the time like just another way in which to obsess over gender, a foolish coercive socially constructed thing that i was trying to avoid.

In my 20s, I learned more about nonbinary people and figured that explained things pretty well. I was enamored with the transition journeys of some other trans people, largely trans women more than trans masculine ones (with some trans-effeminate faggot boy exceptions), but I still didn't want to take on all the expense and uncertainty and hassle of navigating the medical system for myself. I didn't think that the pursuit of being happy merited taking on so many risks or fiddling with myself so much. I saw it as an extravagance I didn't deserve, I guess, and I also couldn't locate a target outcome that seemed desirable enough for me. I was still dealing with an eating disorder and recovering from some trauma and didn't really think about my life in the long term. I guess I still don't, haha, whoops.

Eventually I came out as nonbinary, and nobody really gave a shit. There is a lot of useless, solidarity-breaking discourse that happens online about essentially who is "more" oppressed, binary trans people or nonbinary people, and a lot of that fight amounts to the two groups shouting about the ways in which they annoy one another without there being any cogent analysis of power and where oppression comes from (let alone how much those two categories overlap).

But I will say that being a they/them was far more difficult than being a trans guy socially and institutionally, because your identity is completely illegible to every system around you. "binary" trans people struggle under this too, but i have found there are some immense benefits to having a socially and institutionally legible target gender. nobody would fucking actually they/them me. not anyone. not even other trans people and queer people. there were no public gendered spaces for me. there were no spaces for me. there was no way to move through the medical system, professional life, and other public institutions as a nonbinary person. i was still just a cis woman in everyone's eyes. including the people who claimed to support me. and it was massively frustrating.

and so i think ultimately, i took my frustrations with not being at all able to escape coerced gendering as a nonbinary person and combined that with the affinity i do feel for queer men and the general sense of misery i was still experiencing in my life and decided what the hell, i'll round myself up to being a trans guy. i upped my T dose, i dressed more masculinely, i eventually got a super masculine hair cut that really squared off my jawline and got me gendered correctly, and i started more consciously inhabiting queer men's spaces.

and it was pretty dope. for a while. i felt the rush of having gotten away with something. when people effortlessly gendered as male i felt freed at last from the pressure to be a woman. i was no longer being coerced into being something that i was not. i had escaped the enforced category so much that people couldn't even see the history of that category being pushed onto me. there was relief.

but then. as always happens. people made little comments about my handshake being too weak for a man. the hypermasc dudes at the leather bar rolled their eyes at me and all the other effeminate dudes swanning around the bar. the people who picked me up off the apps or at the sauna would always let it slip, eventually, that they had a lot of experience with trans guys, or had most recently been dating all trans guys, and it would make me feel like a stock character to them, yet another category into which all kinds of assumptions had been projected. a type not a person. a few people said my haircut made me look like i was in the military or described me as actually masculine, which was equally jarring because it was so incorrect. people tried to affirm me by saying i was such a dude, i was such a man, i was such a fag, i was such a gay bro, pawing all over me leaving the mark of all their assumptions and oversimplifications behind. i had tried to run away from gender and there i was just BASTING all the time in everybody's goddamn assumptions about gender. trans people didn't talk about it any less than cis people did, they were just as fucking confining to be around.

it honestly feels really dirty. when people try to affirm your gender constantly and can't stop talking about it, when people look past you and see only your body, your history, or the role they have typecast you in, when people use your body as an outlet for their own gender or sexuality explorations, when they keep trying to measure every single facet of existence up into being masculine or being feminine or being toppy or bottomy or any other gendered type, it's claustrophobic.

as a trans man i tried playing this whole gender game and the second i started winning i began to feel even more disgusted with myself. it wasn't a victory or an escape, it was a capitulation. exploring with my identity and presentation has brought positive things into my life and my health has gotten better as a result, and i've made wonderful friends who, like me, are disaffected by this coercive gendering system. so i don't regret any of that. but trying to make myself legible under the existing gendered system was a fool's fucking errand. i wish i hadnt done it to myself and i wish i hadnt had it pushed onto me. to be clear, it was cissexist, binarist society that forced it onto me; even when other queer people coated me in their gendered assumptions that is obviously a byproduct of societal conditioning, and it's conditioning that ive reinforced in my own behavior and outlook toward others plenty of times too. we all do it, and we are all wronged by the existing coercive gender system.

i dont even care how i fucking identify anymore and i have no intention of changing pronouns again or anything, i'm so bored of it, i just actually want off this fucking thing. im not interested in trying to make others understand what i am anymore or in who i am even being simply categorizable, i dont want to obsess anymore over how i am perceived or to attempt engineer my appearance and mannerisms to broadcast an identity to anyone. i dont even want to fuck anybody right now at all because im so sick of how much that's a gender pantomime for people. i want off this fuckin ride man im so done.

it's kind of freeing, to hit this point of complete gender apathy, and i think it is a pretty common stage of identity development for a lot of queer people who have explored multiple identities and roles over time. there is no category that i actually am, or that anyone is, there are just the frameworks that society has given us to work with to understand ourselves, and the ways in which we flatten who we are to be able to make sense of the world using those frameworks. but who i actually am is so much more contextual and mutable than all that. i am a different person in the classroom than i am on the train platform than i am in the bedroom than i am cuddling on the couch than i am when i'm working out than i am when curled up on the floor crying than i am at a big furry convention. who i am continues to change as new people come in and out of my life and age and change and my body alters and as the weather turns. who fuckin knows man it's nothing and everything. i want to let it just be

[harfanfare]

If that's okay could i request it for Epel?

How to win the heart of Epel Felmier?

a/n: Thank you for requesting~~ Dear Readers, while I am not a native English speaker, I wrote this ff in the English-pronounciation (?) mindset that “Epel” and “Apple” sound very similar. If it’s not all that similar, may Reader be too obsessed with apples to have that selective hearing when it comes to Epel’s name or let’s blame it on the Harveston’s dialect, haha

Be a zealous apple lover.

You envy this boy’s name.

“Apple”? What a majestic word to be named after. The first time you’ve heard a woman calling someone like that, you remember stilling in place and whooping your head at a ten-year-old boy who yelled that he was coming.

And he… doesn’t look like an apple. Maybe you weren’t expecting a walking apple, nor a boy with red hair dressed in all browns, carrying a big basket of apples (and of course, eating one in the other hand) like a character created for a show whose audience is a tad younger than you, but none of the apples you know turn purple.

Never have you imagined someone with such a beautiful name would move so wobbly in snow, the sledge he dragged behind definitely too heavy.

The realization of how unfitting this name was makes you lose a grip on the basket of fabric you got from one of your new neighbours. Well, everyone here is “new” if you just came into this little village just three days ago.

That boy notices you. He must have heard the news because a flash of recognition paints itself on his face. You didn’t return a shy smile at the staring, even if you wanted to. You remember your cheeks prickling from the freezing wind when you bolted home as the apple boy looked like he wanted to say something.

“He doesn’t look like an apple,” you argue with your mother that night, as she kisses your temple goodnight.

“Maybe not. But I would have loved you two to be friends…” Your mother stops in her words as you roll your eyes at her and pout with all your might. She suppresses a laugh that you would take to your heart. “…But, maybe I should be glad he doesn’t resemble an apple at all? You would have fallen head over heels in love with him if he did.”

Yeah, your mother doesn’t need to look so happy as you grew agitated.

“I wouldn’t!” You protest loudly and bury yourself deeper into bed sheets even if your face grows hotter. Maybe of the embarrassment, maybe of the fury, but surely not because of the boy. “I would never fall in love with a boy like him. And I don’t want you to talk about this to anyone!”

You remember your mother’s eyes twinkling with utter amusement. “Yes, yes, all right.”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

2. Challenge Apple to a sled race.

Maybe it’s the fault of far too many action films being aired on TV, yet the idea of being able to win anything a fight was stuck in your head.

Some limited part of your brain thought that, hm, Apple might just give up his name to you if you won in this town’s most famous activity: the Harveston’s Sled Race. It seemed only appropriate for you to pick something the boy must know, even if you had only got your first sledge barely two weeks ago.

“Ya… want my name?” Apple blinks as you grow irate when you repeat your offer once again. You remember rolling your eyes ostentatiously at him, and Apple huffing loudly at you. “What does it even mean, duh?”

He crosses his arms and glared at you. He has the advantage of being just a little bit taller than you, but thankfully, his The-Great-Seven-Better-Bless-Her grandmother never ceases to dress him in fluffy, puffy clothes, always in pastel colours; the cute pompom on top of his beanie and shawl in the adorable pink shade made him much less imposing.

“Whoever wins in this sledge race will be called Apple,” you repeat. Apple squints his eyes at you. “I like this name so much, you have no idea. Please give it up to me.”

“Oh.”

You have no idea why his face slowly turned red. If you knew better, you would have used this opportunity to tease him, but little you didn’t want to mock a newly met boy, even if you just threw down a gauntlet for his name.

“It’s a normal name….” He mutters, and before you can protest, he draws his eyes to you, somehow redeeming you speechless. “…But I’ll challenge you if that’s what you wanna do.”

Huh. You weren’t expecting him to agree so easily.

…Nor were you expecting him to glide on the snow with his sledge. He looked frail enough to not care about things like rides and thought that it would give you the advantage. It did not. Apple flew or used magic, or illusions because he rode so fast the snow beneath him barely left a trace.

That was some cool skill, even if you hated how awed you were.

It seems like you challenged the wrong boy because this one wins with ease.

“Sorry,” he says with flushed cheeks, and his deep breaths create little warm clouds in freezing air. He lays on the snow, and his fringe sticks to his forehead. He has won, and it was a tough victory yet a well-earned one. “I will still be the only Epel in this town.” He shifts his gaze on you. “So. What’s your name?”

Well, he is a (treacherous) winner. You give your name to him.

He smiles slightly, he repeats it slowly and goes quiet. You look over to see him open his eyes from reverie and bright lights dance in his eyes.

“It’s nice. I think it suits you well.”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

3. Have some baking skills.

“Epel, dear. We’ll be having our little neighbour helping us this year’s festival, so please show how responsible can you be and teach [Name] how to prepare apples for the pies.”

Ugh. If only Grandma Marja wasn’t so kind, you would have been protesting more.

Apple looks at you and you frown slightly as he sighs at your sight.

“You again?”

And because Grandma Marja already left, you feel free to announce your displeasure with the situation as well. Sadly, there are no other kids your age in this village, so you are probably bound to accompany him for the rest of your whole life here as he’s your only peer.

“Unfortunately.”

Apple hands you an apron, before ordering you to wash your hands. Because the kitchen island is too occupied with other dishes and too high for any of you without a stool, you take a seat next to a coffee table that was impractically set between the salon and kitchen, leaving just enough space to create a narrow route from one room to another.

“Have you ever baked an apple pie before?” He asks and you shake your head. His brows furrow slightly as he thinks whether you will be a help here at all. “So, it will be a long day…”

He better not write you off before you can even start.

You cross your arms. “Test me first, complain later... if ever.”

“I’m not complaining. But we have a knife and a peeler. Oh, and it hurts if you get cut. You should take it slowly and be careful,” he adds and hops to the other room to grab a basket full of apples. He lays it between you two.

Apple doesn’t let you use a knife.

“I am older than you,” he says and takes an apple from you to cut it into even pieces. You don’t notice the skill he has to make careful cuts precise and clean, as you glare at him.

“Barely.”

The few-month gap in your age isn’t enough to stop you from insisting that you can do more complicated things than just peeling apples. That’s some arduous work, especially when the peeler doesn’t cooperate and the thin fruit’s skin gets stuck between the blades.

So, Apple, who couldn’t contain that last annoyed sigh, finally lends you a knife. He instructs you, but after several times that you tell him you know what are you doing, he hesitantly goes back to his work. You could feel a worried gaze at you nonetheless, and at one time you looked over your shoulder to see him staring at you.

And that’s when the knife slips from your hands.

You don’t scream, but a gasp and a sudden flinch gives you away.

“Aaaand that’s what I was saying,” he immediately drops the apple he was taking care of, and stands next to you, scrutinizing the cut. It’s not bigger than a paper cut, yet it’s a bit deeper and stings as much. You quickly hide your hands from him. “Go take your hand under the cold water. I will get some bandages.”

He gets some. He then orders you—” I am the older one here and I was right before, so I am in charge between us two,” as you were told—to sit on the sofa as he carefully wraps one bandage around your finger. The gesture it’s almost cute from him, but it doesn’t lift your foul mood at all.

“I made more trouble than I’ve helped,” you say quietly. Epel looks at you, a bit surprised.

“You sayin’ that this little cut is making you quit?” And now he has that stupid smile on his lips that makes your blood not boil, but warm up at least five degrees. “Awh, poor thing.”

You get up in a hurry.

“…I didn’t say that.”

“Then don’t give up like that,” he chastises you, but he can’t hide a (still very stupid) smile when you pass him to get to the kitchen counter. “But be more careful from now. No one wants to eat a bloody apple pie.”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

4. Get into NRC and survive a shock.

Over the years, you’ve become friends, close enough to plan to go to college together, if the opportunity arises. It did.

“Cheers!”

The perfect way to celebrate getting into NRC is with a soft drink, sparkling soda and a big plate of snacks. Although you bought chips for the occasion, your and Apple’s parents prepared a pile of homemade goodies and they couldn’t compare to those store-bought.

Your can clinks against Apple’s and you take a sip.

“It’s not like I ever thought of Night Raven Collage rejecting the best candidates ever,” Apple says with a sigh. Only today you can notice how stiff he was before; although he’d been playing it cool, he was tense all the time. “But that’s one burden off your chest.”

You nod in agreement and look at the acceptance papers once again. When a time will come, carriages with Gates will come for you two… And that’s a thrilling thought.

“This document looks so official,” you say. “What a pretty paper. It looks so elegant.”

Apple empties his can and briefly glances at you.

“Nothin’ special about it…”

And because you want to see the comparison (maybe there are hidden hints where you might be allocated to by the Dark Mirror?), you take his document. The first thing that crosses your mind, is that there is something wrong with his name.

“Wait,” you shriek loudly, and Apple shudders from surprise. He would chastise you for screaming so loud if you didn’t look so worried. “They spelled your name wrong!”

“Huh?” Apple feels a pang of horror, the same you feel when you tap your pockets in search of your phone. As if he found it, once he reads the top of the document again, he relaxes. His lips form into a thin line: he thinks you are pranking him. “No way. Everything is correct.”

“No, look here. Your name, Apple!”

“It’s… Correct.”

“E- P- E- L. And your name is A- P- P- L- E, no?”

“…What?” Epel, not Apple, looks surprised but not as surprised as you. “You thought my name was ‘Apple’ for all those years?!”

You bite your lip to not question it. Is it not? Your cheeks burn from embarrassment, and your heart feels heavy as if you have just betrayed your best friend. It never crossed your mind to have him write down his name, and there wasn’t a reason for him to do so: in this small town there is no school, neither are there the tests you need to sign.

“…I’m sorry.” You stutter, and Epel brushes the crumbs off from his blouse and gets up.

“Goodbye,” he says, making his way towards the door. He doesn’t seem that upset over the whole thing, as much as confused. Tomorrow everything will return to normality, but Epel will have a top-tier teasing material for years. “That’s too many revelations for today.”

“Wait, Epel!”

“Go to ya Apple boy.”

“No!! I said I’m sorry!”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎

5. Get sorted into any dorm but Pomefiore.

“Stop laughing.”

“I can’t…! Ha…”

You take a big breath to calm yourself down, but once you look up at Epel and his grimace, it’s impossible to not burst out laughing so loud and so breath-taking you drop to the floor. Epel nudges you. You might be in his room, yet he knows if he’ll be too loud, someone will come to shush you two.

And maybe they will punish him, but Epel isn’t familiar with Pomefiore’s customs, so he doesn’t know what to expect.

“How come you got sorted into another dorm, while we are practically the same?” Epel mumbles, lying down on his bed. The sheets are heavy yet comfortable, luxurious like the whole room. It feels like a museum here, where each item is more valuable than your life and you need permission to rearrange the interior.

To Epel, Pomefiore is the worst dorm. He remembers you teasing him about getting sorted to Pomefiore, but neither of you thought it would come true. It’s too stiff, too restrictive and cares too much about appearances. Epel’s heart feels heavy at the thought of the next four years here.

“Maybe Dark Mirror doesn’t sort the dorm judging by the alikeness of two last brain cells but the shape and colour of the soul,” you nudge him back, waking him up from his reverie.

“Or maybe it didn’t get any input of brain cells from you.”

“Well, your desire to be the prettiest boy in the town got to it, so I think it functions well.”

You chuckle at the dead glare he throws you.

Epel finally sighs.

“…I would like to change the dorms.”

“I don't know whether the Dark Mirror accepts complaints,” you tease him. The gloom is abruptly replaced by irritation, and that’s nice. An angry Epel is better than a devastated Epel. “But if you ever want to escape for a while, you are welcome in my room. We can have a sleepover whenever you want.”

“…Thank you.”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

5.5. Sorted into Pomefiore exception.

“You ain’t elegant at all, though.”

“It seems like my elegance bleaks in comparison to yours, pretty boy.”

“You are blind.”

Epel tries to push you away, but you sidestep while giggling. He glares at you, and thankfully, his eyes don’t seem that sad. When he returned to his seat after getting sorted to Pomefiore, he looked bewildered, as if he suddenly wasn’t in the NRC he dreamed of but some other, less-dreamlike school.

You remember him blinking back tears, but maybe not from sadness—thankfully, Epel doesn’t pity himself—but melancholy, as if he just lost something he didn’t even have. Maybe also fury and confusion.

“It will be fun to stay here together,” you prompt, and Epel sighs but a trace of a smile appears on his lips. Thank Great Sevens for the little lights that brighten the azure tones in his eyes.

“Guess I’m stuck being your neighbour forever.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“No?”

“Of course not. You already know how great friend I can be.”

“…I guess you’re right,” he sticks out his tongue. Vil will have a lot of work if he wants to make him a fine gentleman. Well. You will take any version of Epel, even the pettiest and most teasing one, so it’s Vil’s burden to bear. “Kind of.”

You pout at him, but a quiet smile breaks your coolness. “So petty.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

6. Listen to your manly man complain about Vil.

After several weeks in NRC, you could tell Epel still hasn’t gotten used to Pomefiore, and especially its leader.

“I can’t handle him pointing out each… well, everything!” He hides his face in his hands and sluggishly rubs his eyes; he looks tired enough even if Pomefiore must have those eight hours of sleep every night mandatory. “He would find wrongdoings in the way I breathe.”

“I would too. You don’t breathe as much through your nose as you think you do. That’s so very unhealthy, Epel. Your skin will be ruined in the next week of running.”

Epel throws you a warning look as if you had hit the nail with your talk. “Stop or I will strangle you with a pillow in your sleep. I already have Ace on my list.”

You chuckle at a threat, and Epel rolls his eyes. “How dramatic.”

“I have enough drama in my life,” he continues, and you can feel from his tone that he either suppresses the sigh. No apathy or fury anymore, though. Pomefiore must be slowly growing on him, and you take it as a good sign. “My two upperclassmen are going to be a death of me. I don’t know how could I end up in Pomefiore. This kind of lifestyle doesn’t suit me.”

“You complain about them a lot, but, in reality, you look up to him, no?” You tease. “Even you can say the beauty he possesses is influential and somewhat powerful.”

“He might look majestically but it doesn’t make him any less annoying. Now, let’s stop talking about him.”

“Why not? I might become Vil Schoenheit’s fan.”

He clasps his hands on your mouth, so you have to fully focus on his glaring.

“You can’t. You are my fan.”

You pout but after he takes his hands off you, a lopsided smile cracks your lips. “I guess you’re right.”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

7. Argue, duh.

That’s a hobby of you two, although a risky one. It always leaves a weight on your heart, because you cannot not care for Epel. While jokes and sarcasm are never intended to hurt any of you, and you can almost always distance yourself from teasing comments, his every word is precious to you.

“Don’t be a killjoy,” would make you roll your eyes if Epel didn’t look so serious. Your smile falters, and something in your stomach twists. You know this conversation was going to end in an argument even before he glowered at you.

“Hey, don’t say it like that,” you stutter the words, placing a hand on his arm. It would come as a reassuring gesture, yet Epel made an effort to move a seat away, and your arm fell aimlessly, sadly. “I am just worried about our grades. That have. Uh. Dropped marginally.”

You stare at your shoes because listening to your best friend being displeased with you so greatly is heartbreaking.

“We have the whole weekend ahead of us to study,” he argued. “Be serious. You don’t want me to go, because you weren’t invited, isn’t that so?”

You sigh. You’ve never expected to be invited to each of their meetings: they are Epel’s friends, and you have yours.

While you knew Ace and Deuce were delightful company, you always thought Epel would choose you over them, even if you suggested something as unentertaining as studying because you would do the same.

You were wrong, after all. Maybe that’s the difference of willpower between a just-a-friends mindset and having a crush on him. Do you really have a crush on him, though? Or maybe you’ve expected too much from a childhood friendship.

“Well, no. I mean, I would love to be invited, but—”

“We don’t need to hang out together every time we have a spare afternoon,” he said, and while it was a true statement, it hurt. If you weren’t able to somehow steel your nerves, you would know you wouldn’t be able to bear the prickling in your eyes. Epel’s next suggestion comes as a whisper. “Sometimes… We should take a break from each other, ya know? And I need to figure, uh, something out.”

The news shocks you so much, that you don’t notice how he visibly abstains from lifting a hand to his chest.

Well. You always knew you were a hopeless romantic.

“Breaks from each other, huh…”

You take in the phrase in silence. Epel takes this chance as an opportunity to gather his things and pack them.

“…I’ll be leaving. Good luck studying or whatever.”

“…Alright. Have—” fun, you wanted to say, but the door shut and Epel left you alone.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

8. Go through the silent treatment phase.

After a week of awkward conversations, Epel has forgotten about that talk. The pain in your chest dulled and you were growing indifferent as if you were watching a show—your life—that started to bore you, not engaging you at all.

You stared blankly at the screen of your phone.

— today —

Epel: Hey

Epel: are u free todya?? you’ve been so absent last weeks >:((

Epel: Grim and prefect invited us for gaming night

Epel: dont ya DARE do skip it again

— seen: now —

…Yeah. You feel nothing, maybe only a little sad at the memory when you felt so vivid and happy when you got a message from Epel.

“No, sorry, I am busy with studying lol,” you type, and while you know that excuse will wear out in the next few days, for as much as you’ve been using it for the last week to avoid hanging out with Epel, your (ex-?) best friend starts to type something. He will protest and argue and try to convince you, but you don’t want to talk today. “Maybe next time.”

So you turn off your phone, sinking deeper into the pillows on your bed.

You don’t have the energy to confront Epel right now.

And that’s it.

…

You fell into a slumber deep enough to not hear the hesitant-turned-frantic knocking to your room.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

9. Let Epel hear the advice of unreliable gurus of love.

They are really unreliable, look messy, and they judge you. The worst kind of people to go for (love?) advice, but Epel assures himself that he needs honesty, not a pat on his back or a shoulder to cry on. He also is out of other options.

Moreover, he would like to cry nowhere near Ace, who would obviously mock him. Even now it’s hard to have a heart-to-heart conversation when he and Deuce chomp on some type of dessert and some awfully happy music from videogame plays in the back of the room. “So? What did you do?”

“Ace,” Deuce is kind enough to elbow Ace in the stomach when Epel’s stoic expression falters.

His shoulders drop. “No, he… He is kinda right.”

Ace throws a winning smile but moves too far away from Deuce to have him punch him for the cheekiness. “’ Kinda’?”

“…Totally right,” Epel finally admits. “[Name] has been avoiding me and I have no idea what should I do,” He throws his arms on the table, and almost hides his face in the palms of his hands. Instead, he moves away the strands of his unruly hair. “Ugh. Why I am even asking you guys to help me? You’re even worse at this kind of thing.”

“Speak for yourself. And Deuce,” Ace cuts him off. And before Deuce can do anything else than glare at him, Ace shifts closer to Epel and throws an arm over his shoulder so he has to hunch. “Epel, question: what is “this kind of thing”. You mean… as in friendships or dating?”

Deuce looks shocked, even so more than Epel. “Dating?!”

“Why are you even so shocked?” Ace asks him, furrowing his eyebrows. When Deuce starts to ponder over his words, he rolls his eyes. “[Name] probably have had a crush on this imbecile”— he points his fork at Epel—” for damn years now, if I had to guess”.

“Years?!”

“Thank you for the dramatic echo effect again, Deuce,” Ace snarls and finally focuses on Epel. Too distracted with a bickering between his friends, his spirits lift up a little. “And you, Epel. Pull yourself together. Do you want to sever the relationship? Do nothing. Do you want to be friends? Apologize to [Name] and try to patch the bond. Do you want to be in a relationship? …Welp, figure out that for yourself.”

…

“Amazing advice, Ace,” Deuce claps his hands theatrically.

He sticks out his tongue and winks. “You could never give a better one.”

Epel gets up from his seat.

“Thanks, you two. I… will do something.”

“Good luck,” Ace waves at him as Epel makes his way over to the door. “If it works out, you owe us a free drink. Especially me.”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

10. Have Epel fight for your love!!

It’s hard to find someone when the person knows your schedule and actively tries to avoid you. Choosing more roundabout corridors and sacrificing your wallet to have most of your meals in Monstro Longue instead of the cafeteria are only some of the things you did to avoid encountering Epel.

But he didn’t give up, and maybe his tenacity is what makes you oblige Epel once he finds you.

You don’t question him when he grabs your hand and asks you to skip the last lesson with him that feels almost unimportant as his intertwined fingers warm yours. You don’t comment on how his grip is stronger than usual and how he doesn’t let it go when your hands begin to sweat.

But as you leave the main building of NRC, the curiosity gets the better of you.

“Where are we heading to?”

Epel looks over his shoulder to blink at you. “I…,” he stammers, as confused enough to leave you wondering what is your final destination. Or what was your final destination, Epel seems to have forgotten whatever plan he had in mind. “I guess it can be here.”

He ushers you into one of the side alleys, a bit distanced from the main street and sits you down on a bench. You eye him curiously as he slowly lifts his hands to your face—and that is the first time he let go of your hand—and cupped your cheeks.

“Let me be clear. I- really like you,” he said loudly, gazing into your eyes. “And I know I… overreacted earlier. I’m sorry. I don’t want you to avoid me.”

You breathe out slowly. The heat from the “I really like you” moment prickles and makes your face hotter. It doesn’t help that Epel doesn’t shift his gaze from you nor that he has his hands firmly on your cheekbones as he awaits your answer.

“I’m… sorry. I shouldn’t have been getting between you and your friends.”

Epel eyes you, bewildered. “Why are you focusing on that part?”

“Huh?”

“Ah. Maybe… I will phrase it differently,” He hesitates and his tone wavers, but he says the words without a stutter, as if he’s been practising them in front of the mirror, effectively. “I love you.”

“And I- I want to be friends even if you don’t feel the same.” He rushes with an explanation when you don’t answer as your mind goes blank. “Because. I don’t want you to… avoid me anymore. A-actually, you don’t have to rush with your answer. Just, decide, someday, in the near future, haha? I will wait.”

He glances at you and you know he won’t be able to bear long without hearing your answer. As he rushes past you, you think you heard a hushed whisper.

“Dear Sevens, I said it…!”

[mochinomnoms]

Hi long time listener first time caller!

Wanted to share my thoughts on a reader who's very "take it or leave it" in terms of romance. They accidentally respond to Jade and Floyd's courtship thinking they were just being nice.

Oh you both made me dinner? That's nice of you.

You made me some jewelry? Thanks I'll wear it, dont have much jewelry anyways.

You wanna massage my shoulders and feet because I look like I had a rough day? That's very considerate of you.

*yaaaaaaaawns* whoops sorry didn't get a lot of sleep last night haha... why are you two so excited? Why are we going to your room? What do you mean we're married now?

You wake up the next morning sandwiched between two very happy eels. You keep reminding yourself you have to give it to them straight and tell that you didn't know they were courting you before feelings got hurt. You keep trying but things keep getting in the way.

Listen guys we gotta talk I didn't know... *gets covered in welcome home kisses and hugs*

Hey uh if you have a moment I- *floyd grabs you and takes you to the couch for suprise naptime*

Jade we gotta... you need me to help sample a new menu? *stomach growls* Okay fine but we're talking after. *forgets due to food coma*

Hey about this whole mate thing... wait... that video games not supposed to come out for weeks, how the hell did you get it? Your families connections? *spends the rest of the night wrapped in a blanket with the twins playing the game.*

They are ideal mates to you. You keep trying until one day you realize you actually look forward to going home to see them. You like spending time with them and holy hell you have to remind yourself never to yawn around them unless you want them to drag you to bed to have your world sufficiently rocked... holy shit are you actually in love?

I responded to an ask with a similar idea to this, but I'm at work so I can't find the link rn. But yeah, they essentially Pavlov dog you on accident.