#the one side of his collar being out if a fashion Statement too

[love4hobi]

hoseok, suchwita ep. 12

[cricketnationrise]

time: 1.31am (the time my dog woke me up today by jumping in my bed😅), location: Kensington palace , character: David and Alex please 🙏🏾 🐶, song lyric for vibes, discard if you don't like: "feels so good to be alive" 🌅 (from Beyonce's Be Alive Oscar performance 🎾💚🌻)

my ao3 is this same name but with underscores (the_marathon_continues )

no pressure if you can't get to this I'm sure you're inundated with requests!

*mushu voice* I LIVE hello i am in a two week lull of normal work hours so i have both time and brain space after a freaking month to write more and your prompt was the next at bat! i hadn't seen the oscars performance so that was cool to look up and see. i hope you love this little moment with my favorite boy. and alex.

read the rest of the ficlets here

❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙

1:31am, kensington

Henry’s stuck at some royal event, one that Alex wasn’t invited to attend, and Alex is fucking bored. He can’t sit still enough to watch something, there’s no chores to do since he’s stuck in Kensington waiting for Henry to come back, and he doesn’t have any schoolwork for once. And yes, it’s after one in the morning, but he certainly isn’t sleeping. It’s only when David pads into the monstrosity that is Henry’s gilded bedroom, that Alex’s brain lights up with glee.

A quick rummage through Henry’s closet (oh, the irony) and a text conference with Bea, Nora, and June, and Alex has a plan. David’s a good sport through all of the outfits Alex puts him in, placidly allowing the infringement upon his dignity and obligingly staying still for the camera. 

He starts with a black bow tie collar Henry had lying around and fashions two shirt cuffs out of an old white shirt of Henry’s to go around David’s front legs. A strategically placed pistol emoji on the most debonair picture of David and the tribute to Arthur as James Bond is sent off to the group chat. That one’s just for the family's eyes.

Alex finds giant sparkly sunglasses shaped like flowers (left behind by Pez, surely) and slaps a super bright filter on top. He posts it to Instagram with the caption Elton Paws. He spends way too long making a black vest, white shirt, and black belt for David, wanting to get as close to the iconic look as possible. David’s unimpressed face looks out from the photo with the caption I’ve got a bad feeling about this. A cardigan from one of Bea’s old dolls and David’s own booties for cold days sitting next to him complete the Mr. Rogers costume. Please won’t you be my neighbor? With a fit of giggles, he removes the booties from the shot, adds the tiny crown Henry pretends he didn’t buy for his dog and takes another photo. He adds a photo of Henry in a similar cardigan as the second photo. The third photo on the post is just the meme from The Office where Pam says ‘they’re the same picture.’” Alex spends another ten minutes color washing a normal picture of David with bright purple, solely so he can make a Courage the Cowardly Dog joke.

He doesn’t bother checking any of the comments, fuck if people think he’s being ridiculous. Alex built this life; he’s found his person (and his dog). He managed to create something beautiful for himself all on his own, despite being thrust into the public eye. He and Henry came out the other side of the leak with their relationship and futures intact and shining brighter than ever. They’ve spent long enough putting on their best faces in public—it’s about time people remembered that he’s twenty-fucking-three. If he can’t dress his dog up in ridiculous costumes and post them on the internet like everyone else on the fucking planet, then what is the world coming to?

And alex is so fucking proud of his life, both separate and intertwined with Henry’s. They can weather any storm and forget anyone who says their relationship isn’t what love looks like. Someday, they won’t have to split their lives over two continents. Someday, it’ll be a given, an if/then statement: If Henry, then Alex. They’ve been fighting for something resembling normalcy since way before the emails leaked. They’ve dealt with depression and being outed, with a long-awaited ADHD diagnosis and the pressures of their families and countries. They’ve hustled and worked and bent over backwards for the public for years. If the general population has a problem with them occasionally being ridiculous about their pet? Fuck ‘em.

It feels amazing to be goofy, to act like the young adult he is, to not run every single tidbit by a publicist or handler, to do something dumb with his dog because he misses his boyfriend. So Alex will keep on dressing David up in whatever strikes his fancy and posting the results. If nothing else, Henry will love the results.

an instagram post: 

[pic of david in a ridiculous costume, alex beaming with tongue out and peace signs while he holds david up for a selfie]  when dad is away, we will play.

[starrynyxa]

i NEED to know your omega pete hcs <3

Okay some of these aren’t even omega pete hcs, they’re just omegaverse headcanons in general oops lol. Also, this isn’t fobmegaverse/transomega!pete, but some of these do overlap with him. 

Pete, when he’s younger, is very resistant to being characterized as a typical omega and so does shit to make him less perceived as one. He plays up his aggression, acts tougher than he is, deepens his voice. He doesn’t do housework, doesn’t cook, doesn’t bottom. (internalized omegaphobia…lmfao). Getting older, growing up, meeting more people who don't quite fit the mold, and becoming more solid with where he sits in his own body, he then becomes more comfortable leaning into his “softer” side. He gets more chilled out about doing stuff that’s typically associated with being an omega, now knowing that being an omega doesn’t make you lesser

Collars started out as courting gifts (though they looked less like collars and were more like necklaces). Kind of like an engagement ring, they acted as a precursor to the mating bite, something to entertain with the idea of being permanent, before it actually is. Courted omegas would walk around with collars, smelling like their mate, and it gave off the idea that they’d been claimed as property.

Some omegas began wearing collars on their own as a deterrent, to fend off unwanted attention under the guise of already being claimed by an alpha. Over time this became less a defense mechanism and developed more into omegas wearing collars for themselves, saying “I Own Myself,” and collars turned into sort of a political statement, especially in like punk scenes. Collars went from being essentially jewelry, and turned into thick black leather with studs and spikes.

(I think also there’d be another shift where collars become less about making a statement, and more of a fashion piece. Pete would really fucking love collecting different designer collars to wear. Also I think there'd be discourse about if you can wear collars as a non-omega LOL)

This isn’t even a headcanon it’s just pw canon- Pete’s obsessed with scent, and also with sharing clothes. Those things go hand-in-hand here. Scent in the omegaverse is like a person’s whole entire being. Sharing clothes with scent on it is basically the same as someone saying they’re okay with being so intimately associated with you. They don’t mind having your scent on them, and theirs on you. To Pete, it’s an affirmation that he’s not completely fucked up. That he’s still Good Enough to have his scent interwoven with another person’s. 

I feel like the band would eventually kind of develop their own pack scent. From how much time they spend together on tour, all their individual scents mix together to the point that it becomes something distinctly Them. They just smell like Fall Out Boy. Being a part of Fall Out Boy is a facet of their scent that’s as natural to their being as where they’re from. Over the hiatus, without the pack/band scent being “maintained,” it fades away, to just a hint, until you can barely even smell it on them.

Fall out boy puppy piles. That’s it. 

The inner romantic in Pete likes to believe in the idea of the True Mate, even if it’s not really that feasible, with zero logical basis. He likes to fall in love at first sight and fling himself into relationships (with maybe less care than he should) because that’s how True Mates, he thinks, should work. He believes it to be a kind of trust fall, to dare to leap into love and hope that it’s destined to be forever. After falling flat too many times, the True Mate idea’s kind of shattered in his brain. So maybe he doesn’t have a True Mate, but he guesses the idea’s bullshit anyway because nothing can be truer than cornflower blue.

[starqueensthings]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for the tag @sinfulsalutations! Here’s a snippet from the final chapter of Dork Love 🧡 (pls note I use “coming soon” very very loosely because I just can’t get my fkn life together)

As if it was putting in every effort to soothe his nerves, the weather had fashioned itself significantly more pleasant than when he last traversed this pathway; the cold sprinkling of rain falling that day had dampened the absorbent collar of his blacks remarkably quickly, and had lingered uncomfortably against his skin for several hours afterward. Though despite now feeling significantly physically comfortable, long shadows cast by the sun’s position over the mouth of the underworld was making the screen of his datapad periodically difficult to discern, sudden bouts of intense glare blinding him to the data that he was only absentmindedly scanning yet relentlessly fetching. Despite the sun’s return to the Coruscanti skyline, the uppermost level of the underworld in which he and his sergeant walked side by side, remained largely free of foot traffic, the rhythmic clunking of their boots echoing easily against the large glass windows of passing stores.

Bemused that the apex of Tech’s affection had landed itself upon a person instead of a piece of technology, Hunter had insisted that he accompany his brother, though the guise he’d chosen to conceal his disbelief was a weak one; the coils of wire that he’d deemed ‘too heavy’ for one man to carry, swung daintily from their elbows with every step, and despite having witnessed Tech memorize the circuitry requirements, he was adamant his heightened senses would prove beneficial— (“you may need me to sense where the wires are in the wall!”)

Had circumstances been different, his sergeant’s companionship would have been welcomed; independent as he was, Tech never stifled an opportunity to be accompanied by a brother, particularly so if it meant freeing the cockpit of any unsupervised interference in his absence. Today on the other hand, as his mind whirred uncomfortably with a myriad of anxiety, excitability, nervousness, and the persistent dread that his lenses had dirtied themselves again, he’d much rather have made the journey solo.

As they typically did to pacify his overactive mind, his fingers danced fervently across the illuminated buttons of the device clutched tightly in his left hand, the motions triggering a near constant pull of new data that only a small portion of his attention was directed. Notably more imperative to him in this moment was calculating the likelihood that you would notice the stray droplets of engine oil still splattered across the toes of his boots, the only remnants of a night spent repairing the damage caused by Wreckers most recent attempt at landing the ship.

And swaddling all other anxieties, was the gnawing idea that this entire adventure could be naught but a misunderstanding; those were, admittedly, frequent occurrences for Tech. The disfigurement of his genetics had rendered him largely unable to accurately identify and categorize certain behaviors in those that he was not entirely familiar with, and he often perceived both body language and spoken inflections incorrectly. What if this was one of those times? What if the request that he come find you, was merely a parting statement made with the sole intent of being polite and not one that you intended that he act on? It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility; you were quite polite after all… and intelligent… and welcoming… and capable… and kind… and so very becoming to him. And arguably more horrifying, what if the profound sense of adoration that welled inside him at only the thought of you, was not a feeling mutually shared? What if the ever-persistent yearning to be in your company, with your chilled fingers interlaced with his in a motion of connection so consuming that it seemed to set his very nerves alight, was simply unreciprocated? Could all of this be yet another miscategorization of body language? Was he was presently walking toward a potentially brutal rejection?

Crosshair’s sardonic remarks of being able to spot ‘dorks in love’ from a mile away, succeeded in partially diminishing Tech’s gnawing uncertainty; the validation from someone that deeply understood him was a welcome verification for navigating such uncharted territory, but as the entryway to your shop drew nearer and nearer with every thunk of his soiled boots, his brothers words began to lose more and more of their initial integrity.

Tech swallowed heavily, stumbling slightly over the fragmented movements of his feet; the fluidity of their typically athletic movements impeded by the sudden and unignorable urge to physically shake the malignant thoughts from his head, and the impulsive act of attempting to smear the oil from his boot with the back of his other leg. Hunter, nostrils flared against the onslaught of foreign underworld aromas, remained thankfully tactful, seamlessly upholding the guise that he hadn’t noticed the clumsy misstep immediately on his right.

NPT: @staycalmandhugaclone @twistedstitcher27 @anxiouspineapple99 @isthereanechoinhere96 @stardust9905 @ghostofskywalker @rain-on-kamino @zoeykallus

[whumpingisfun]

Respect and Responsibility | 1 | Doorstep

TWs: dehumanization, pet whump (of the human variety), modern institutionalized slavery, fantasy whump, overuse of magical abilities, offscreen beating

Theo is a thief. He’s had sticky fingers since he was little. Shiny things hoarded away in his room. Silverware, coins found under the couch, chocolate. His mother had teased him about being a little dragon, and he supposes it’s true in a way. 

As he’d grown older, the shiny things he collected grew in value. 

But he’d never stolen a person before.

Okay. Back up, rewind. 

Theodoric de La Rosa is a thief. But even a thief has morals.

Theo had come to Rynthem’s capitol Zale for a heist. It was a simple one, something, something, wrongful inheritance, stolen from natives,something, something, the usual shit that a rich schmuck would do for something shiny, blah, blah, hoarding away relics that deserved to be with their culture and people where it would be properly used and kept safe, etcetera, etcetera.  

This time it was a painting. And a few statues. Masks? Lots of shit. 

Anyways, Theo had gone in for a painting. 

He’d done all the proper paperwork, gotten all the visas squared away. Juniper had done an amazing job giving him a proper cover as someone well off and in good standing. 

But the check in for Rynthem was… weird. The vibes were off. It made all of his long honed instincts rise up. 

Maybe it was the person who was also behind the checkpoint desk with the chipper customs agent who signed his passport. The blue collar cinched tightly around their pale neck, the artful way their bright sunshine yellow hair swooped over their bright blue eyes, looking like they had just stepped off a movie set. The way their smile was just, this side of fake. Almost plastic. Different from the cheerful customer service smile in that there was a sense if Theo tried to get them to have any expression other than the one painted on their face… it would crack their face wide open. 

“...I like your collar.” he compliments the person. “It’s a very pretty shade of blue.”

“Thank you, Mr. de La Rosa.” the customs agent smiles, widely, all teeth,  instead of the person Theo had addressed. 

It’s clear, in the flashing of the customs agent’s eyes, how the person standing at attention behind the customs agent looks down briefly, that Theo had misstepped. “I hope you enjoy your stay at Rynthem~” their voice is cold.

Theo clears his throat awkwardly, taking off his glasses and cleaning them. “You, uh. You have a nice day?” 

Theo didn’t know it at the time, but that was the first time he’d interacted with a Pet. It wouldn’t be the last, either. 

That vaguely off-putting sense just grew stronger as Theo entered Zale proper, leaving the hustle and bustle of the Transportation Hub Station. 

It wasn’t obvious. Of course it wouldn’t be obvious. It just was. 

It was the small things. How certain people followed others at just the shortest clip behind and to the right or left - presumably the dominant hand. The collars that Theo had first thought was just a fashion statement tightly cinched around certain people’s throats. Some even had leashes. 

Hybrids, people with brightly colored hair that would have looked unnatural on other people’s faces, all with collars, all of them just slightly off, too perfect. Uncannily so. 

Places in the restaurants with spots for a leash to be attached to, pillows to kneel on. 

Signs in shop windows saying ‘NO PETS ALLOWED’, and places where you would tie the leash to a post. All of them human, kneeling or standing in the designated area. Waiting. Some of them drinking out of small dishes as they waited in the dry Rynthian summer heat. 

What was horrible about it was that it was so normal.

It was so casual, that it took Theo ten minutes to realize that those were people that the signs referred to. It took someone exiting a store, with a collared person in tow, staggering under the immense weight of all the bags and boxes and totes. 

Too perfect, too shiny, too artificial. 

These people were slaves. 

These people were Pets.

Theo was sick in the next public trashcan and had to go find a medical mask in a convenience store after he’d been stared at for too long for doing something so ‘unseemly’. 

And then he spent the next ten to thirty minutes hyperventilating in an alleyway, because Pets were everywhere, tagging along with their owners, seemingly happy with their lives of servitude, eyes always plastered adoringly on their owners’ faces. 

He dials Juniper, despite the long distance charge and the risk factor.

“Juni I can’t do this.” 

“WHAT?!?? After all the extra effort it took to get you the proper clearance and identification?!” Juniper’s tinny voice echoes in Theo’s ears. 

“Juni, there are literal slaves here!” Theo’s voice shakes as he tries to keep his voice down. “There are slaves, and I can’t save any of them, and I get the feeling if I try anything, they’re going to make ME disappear.” 

He’d gotten the feeling from how he’d addressed the customs agent’s Pet. How he had misstepped and was on thin ice. The realization of the danger he was in was like a cold ice cube melding with the sweat prickling his body, dousing him in a terribly horrid polar plunge.

He was shivering. 

“--eo, Theo, my boy, listen to me.” The calm, assured voice of Theo’s dear mentor, Professor Hale, rolled deep into his ear. “Take a deep breath.” 

Oh. Right. Breathing. Breathing was a thing. 

Theo sucked in a deep shuddery breath and held it, counting to five.

“There’s a good lad.” Professor Hale murmurs. “Now, let me know when you’ve calmed down. You won’t retain anything if you panic.”

Right. Right. Panic was the archnemesis of a proper thief. 

Okay. Okay… shit it wasn’t okay -- but breathe. Breathe. Exhale for five… Inhale… hold, two, three, four, five… Cycling air in and out of the lungs in a measured fashion. 

Stinky trashcan. 

Theo’s eyes flicker around the alleyway, nose wrinkling under his glasses. 

Brick wall.

Really noisy neon sign.

Gravel and rocks poking me in the ass.

…why do I feel like I’m forgetting something.

OH RIGHT AIR--

Theo coughs as he sucks in a deep lungful of air. 

“You know, when I told you to breathe, I meant it, young man.” Professor Hale’s voice rumbles in his ear, slightly tinny from the connection.

“R-right--” he coughs, wheezing slightly as he swallows spit wrong. “Fuck!” 

“Swear jar.” 

“Damn it Hale, I’m in a situation!”

That gets a bark of laughter from the other side of the phone. It makes Theo smile, but it quickly fades.

“Professor, what am I going to do?” he asks helplessly. 

There’s a pause on the other side of the phone, and Theo can’t help but picture the concentrated look on the old man’s face as he considers his words carefully. 

“Theodoric, I want you to listen to me carefully.”

Theo straightens. Oh shit, full name coming out. “Yes sir.”

The smile is audible but strained in Professor Hale’s voice. “I want you to document everything you see carefully.” 

Theo swallows. “...you mean…”

“Yes. I believe the situation calls for it. I know it will leave you exhausted every day, but if you take some over the counter pain management, you should be fine.”

“You mean not debilitated by migraines and able to get the goal you sent me here for.” Theo cuts in.

Another pause. “...well, yes.” 

Theo sighs, rubbing his forehead as he sets his head back on the wall. “Okay.” 

There’s an audible scuffle of the phone being argued over quietly before Juniper audibly wins by elbowing Professor Hale in the gut.

“Theo I’m sorry, I should have looked harder at where you were going, I would have NEVER sent you there alone if I’d known--”

Theo sighs, eyes sliding shut. “And have you and the Professor at risk too?” he wearily asks. “No, its better if I’m the only one here. I’ll get in, and get out, and send the prize back to HQ as soon as I can. Just… if you guys don’t hear from me again, if things go wrong--”

“Don’t talk like that.” Juniper’s voice is breaking a little. “You’re gonna be fine, you’re gonna get home, and make us chili again. You hear me de La Rosa? You’re going to make me chili again, the really spicy one!” 

That gets a laugh out of Theo. “You just love me for my food, Juni.” he teases. He sucks in a steadying breath. “A-anyways. If I don’t make it back, make sure to look after Whiskers for me.” 

“I still can’t believe you named your cat Whiskers.” Juni sighs. “It’s like naming a baby Fingers.”

There’s a strangled choking noise on the other end of the line that doesn’t come from Juniper as Theo snorts and then starts to laugh hard enough tears begin to roll down his cheeks. 

“Sure, Juni. Next time I’ll let you name my cat.” Theo wheezes. “I love you guys. I’m so sorry about the bill.”

A soft sigh. “I’ll handle it, Theo.” the Professor’s voice is warm. Soothing. Theo can hear his shoulders loosen even oceans away just by hearing the old man’s voice. 

His eyes slide closed with a soft sigh. “Thank you, Professor. …I should get out of this alley.”

“Be safe, Larcine.” 

He straightens. 

“I will. Thank you Professor. You two stay safe, keep HQ running.” 

“Yes sir, Leader sir!” Juniper cackles and then the connection crackles shut. 

Leaving Theo alone, in a country run by the very thing he despised.

So, almost to present day. How about that heist. 

The target? Lord Harrison Carter’s summer mansion. 

Theo gets in as serving staff. New hire, sweet face, no one can resist his sweet face, and with the high pedigree and service record Juniper had forged, no one can resist his resume. 

He’s put in rotation. But there are whispers in the staff room after the noon tea is served. 

Lord Carter is getting a Pet.

Theo is practically invisible as he goes about the usual menial tasks the staff are wont to do. Cleaning. Tidying. Dusting. There’s a lot of dusting. Theo can’t see any spec of dust anytime he’s sent to do another round of dusting. 

If it weren’t for everyone doing the dusting, Theo would think he was being hazed. 

No, the hazing comes from a different angle. 

It’s his face that gets him in the most trouble. 

He’s pretty and he knows it. Flaunts it a little with the girls and the boys who swing that way, winking and generally getting a laugh out of everyone once it’s clear he’s just having fun and has no intentions to flirt his way into a bed. 

Despite him not having any intentions, it still gets him slammed up against one of the lockers in the changing rooms. 

Frankly, it gets him beat to hell and he staggers out of it, bleeding. He doesn’t remember much, after a certain point. There was the richly decorated hallway swimming in his eyes… and then nothing.

He wakes up in the hospital wing of the mansion. Bandaged and with a pounding headache he can feel through what must be a nice cocktail of pain medication because wow is he floaty. 

A man, who must be his temporary boss, sits at a chair by his bedside, reading a novel that Theo is too fucked up to read. Oh. Right. They broke his glasses. Damn. 

“Good morning Sir.” is what he tries to say. 

What comes out is a garbled, “Gurdmurnigir.” 

Larcine, one of the rising thieves in the underworld, reduced to incoherent mumbling. 

Great. 

“Mr. Rosa, you’re awake.” The man closes his book with a snap that makes Theo flinch. Ow. Motherfucker. 

Harrison Carter is a man who, in Theo’s drug addled and blunt mind, looks sick as fuck, and not in a good way. The man is frail, gaunt, with the same air of fragility that the Professor gets when it’s a bad day and the man feels all of his many years. Thinning brown hair frames his narrow, gaunt face and his cheekbones could cut glass. The only reason Carter isn’t as pale as a white sheet of paper, is because the man still has a healthy dose of melanin in him. 

His dark brown eyes are sharp, however. 

Sharp and cold. 

“Tell me, Mr. Rosa, who did this to you? I wish to have them… disciplined.” 

Theo swallows. “Hhhhow?” he chokes out.

A hand runs through his hair. It makes him shudder at the subtle intimacy of it. Like Theo is a kid sick at home. He doesn’t like it. This old man who’s probably in his fifties, maybe sixties is nowhere near his father. 

…despite having investigated Lord Harrison Carter on the outside, before heading in, the man doesn’t look a day over thirty, despite the sickness obviously ravaging the man’s body. 

Chills run up and down Theo’s spine. 

“Oh, you won’t have to worry about that, young man.” Carter says idly, playing with Theo’s hair. “Just let us good folk take care of it for you.” 

Theo stares blankly up at the man, and then just lets his eyes roll up in the back of his head. 

The next time he’s awake, he’s much more clear headed, and in much less pain. It’s a tiny little nurse on a large stool with big green owl-like eyes behind thick glasses who just stareeees at him quietly and makes notes in her little tablet before informing him that he is free to go home with two weeks of paid time off which - when she sees him about to refuse - is non-negotiable and the pay includes hazard compensation. 

“The culprits who have harmed you on Lord Carter’s property have been dealt with.” she informs him primly. “When you return from your rest, you will not have to worry.

Theo smiles a smile that’s only charming in how miserable and pathetic it is. “...thanks.”

He’s trying really hard not to think about what kind of punishment his current - temporary - employer had handed out.

She hands him his glasses. “Your eyeglasses have been repaired, free of charge.” she says. 

“...thanks.” He puts them on, instantly relaxing when his vision comes back into focus. No migraines. Thank Lupin.

He slowly sits himself up completely and limps out of the medical wing under his own power, and wishing that the generosity of the Lord he was working under didn’t come at a price.

There’s a box on the mansion’s doorstep. 

Theo stops, staring. 

There’s a box on the mansion’s doorstep.

It’s big. More of a crate than a simple package box. 

He turns back around. Hands fists by his side. He can’t risk the heist. The Lucine Guild had already promised the museums and families they would get their heritage back. He can’t. 

He can’t.

…

……

………

“Fucking damn it.” He turns around again, ripping off his glasses and this time, the world doesn’t go blurry, but instead sharpens. Every blade of neatly mowed grass stands out next to each other, sharpened into high definition as time unspools around him. It’s like walking through molasses. It’s like walking through air. The beat of his heart is his drum his drum his drum and he’s almost drunk from the heady beat it brings him. 

He watches himself move through time, a phantom. Separate from himself as he is now, decked in purple hues. He watches as he stops. He looks back. He looks forward again. And then time shatters in two. 

In blue hues, Theodoric de La Rosa goes on, never stopping. He nudges that timeline back into view as he grabs the box and wrestles it inside the haze. In that hazy, flickering timeline, the box disappears sometime later while the blue coated Theo is still walking, oblivious, visible on camera to be too far away to have even grabbed the gigantic box. 

Theo is sweating. 

His head is pounding. Vision swimming. 

He pulls and pulls the box even as his muscles burn.

He pulls and maneuvers this box, all the way through town, inch by grueling inch, his world completely coated in red hues. All the while, the specter of his blue self haunts him, blocks ahead, growing farther distant and as that distance grows, so does the pain in Theo’s head. 

The red world blurs until it is just Theo and the box. The box and Theo. Something warm and wet trickles down his neck. Down his chin. But he doesn’t have time to stop, and wipe away what must be blood from him overusing his Gift. 

If he lets go, time starts for the box, and Theo will lose his chance with so many people around to see the box suddenly appear. 

So inch by grueling inch, he pulls the box closer to that blue specter of a self that chose differently, of a self that Theo made real by forcing the timelines to behave as if only one choice had happened in a tree of choices. 

He gets the box into his apartment. His shielded and warded apartment. 

He lets go of the box, and with shaky fingers he shoves his glasses back on, sucking a deep ragged breath as he melds and slams into his other timeline’s self. The memories make him gag, as memories that are alien and foreign to him slide slick and oily into his mind. 

In another life Theodoric de La Rosa never stops to help another person. He steals and steals because of his own sense of greed. Alone--

 He collapses against the box, choking on bile, swallowing rapidly. His hands fumble with the mechanisms of the box, fumbling for the latch. 

The last thing he sees, as his blood soaked fingers hit the right mechanism, are wide gold eyes, rainbow hair and porcelain white skin, half in shadow as the box opens like unspooling origami. 

And then he is enveloped in darkness once again.

[pharmaquipt1]

Polo Shirts for Men: A Comprehensive Guide

In the vast landscape of men's fashion, certain items stand out as timeless classics that never go out of style. Among these, the polo shirt reigns supreme as a versatile wardrobe staple that offers a perfect blend of comfort, style, and sophistication. In this comprehensive guide, we'll explore everything you need to know about polo shirts for men, from their origins to styling tips and beyond.

A Brief History of the Polo Shirt

The origins of the polo shirt can be traced back to the late 19th century, when British polo players sought a comfortable yet stylish alternative to the traditional button-down shirts worn during matches. The solution came in the form of a short-sleeved, collared shirt made from breathable cotton fabric, featuring a buttoned placket and a ribbed collar. This design allowed players to stay cool and comfortable while maintaining a polished appearance on the field.

The popularity of polo shirts soared in the early 20th century, thanks in part to their endorsement by renowned tennis player René Lacoste. In 1926, Lacoste introduced the first mass-produced polo shirts for men, featuring his iconic crocodile logo embroidered on the chest. The shirt's practical design and association with sports quickly made it a favorite among athletes and fashion-conscious men alike.

Key Features of Polo Shirts

Collar and Placket

One of the defining features of the polo shirt is its ribbed collar, which adds structure and visual interest to the garment. The collar typically features two or three buttons at the front, allowing for adjustable ventilation and styling options. Additionally, some polo shirts may include contrasting color accents on the collar and placket for added flair.

Fabric

Polo shirts are commonly made from breathable fabrics such as cotton or cotton blends, which provide comfort and moisture-wicking properties. However, modern variations may incorporate performance materials like polyester or spandex for enhanced stretch and durability. The choice of fabric can influence the shirt's overall feel, drape, and longevity.

Fit

Polo shirts are available in a range of fits, from slim and tailored to relaxed and oversized. The ideal fit will depend on personal preference and body type, but generally, the shirt should skim the body without being too tight or too loose. Pay attention to the shoulder seams, sleeve length, and overall length to ensure a flattering silhouette.

Details

While classic polo shirts are relatively simple in design, they often feature subtle details that elevate their aesthetic appeal. These may include embroidered logos, contrast stitching, or textured fabrics. Additionally, some polo shirts may include vented hems or side slits for improved mobility and comfort.

Styling Tips for Polo Shirts

Casual Wear

For a casual yet put-together look, pair a polo shirt with chinos or denim jeans and sneakers. Roll up the sleeves for a relaxed vibe, and accessorize with sunglasses or a baseball cap for added flair. Opt for neutral colors like navy, white, or gray for versatile styling options.

Smart Casual

To dress up a polo shirt for a smart casual occasion, layer it under a lightweight blazer or bomber jacket. Pair with tailored trousers or dark wash jeans and leather loafers for a polished ensemble that transitions seamlessly from day to night. Experiment with bold colors or patterns to make a statement.

Athleisure

For an athletic-inspired look, team a polo shirt with joggers or athletic shorts and trainers. Choose performance fabrics with moisture-wicking properties to stay cool and comfortable during workouts or outdoor activities. Finish the look with a baseball cap and a gym bag for added functionality.

Conclusion

In conclusion, polo shirts for men are a versatile wardrobe essential that offers timeless style and comfort. Whether you're hitting the golf course, attending a casual brunch, or simply running errands, a well-fitted polo shirt can elevate any outfit with minimal effort. With a wide range of styles, colors, and fabrics to choose from, there's a polo shirt to suit every taste and occasion.

Elevate your wardrobe with our collection of premium polo shirts for men and experience the perfect blend of style and comfort.

[cleosdiary]

He’s seen her at the casino before a couple of times, always with her friends at first, but then alone for another hour or 2 after they leave. She always orders 1 glass of wine, pink moscato. He can tell she doesn’t want her night to end. She’s wearing a short silky strapped white dress that hugs her curves just right. She’s also wearing a day collar, which intrigues Cleo. He wonders if she’s wearing it as a fashion statement or if this is her way of signaling what she likes Its a thin gold chain with an O in the middle, beautifully wrapped around neck. Her heels are simply nude and transparent, perfectly complimenting her entire outfit. Cleo is wearing………. He can see in her eyes that she craves something deeper. Something stronger. Her body movements speak for her. Her posture shows Cleo she’s open, open to a lot of things. Her hips moving slowly side to side as if they were in slo-mo, they tell Cleo they’re ready and hungry. He loves to watch her, but not just because of her beauty, there’s a story to her. There’s a story behind her patterns. And Cleo loves a good ending.

All she craves is the present, the feeling of freedom, a specific high. And maybe, Cleo hopes, some company. He watches as she finishes her glass of wine. Something about watching her throat move every time she slowly takes a sip makes Cleo have to take a deep breathe in and out. She likes to test her luck and plays on a couple of slot machines. She doesn’t care about the money, whether she wins or loses. There’s something confident about her, but lonely at the same time. She’s looking to feel something, and this is the closest she can get.

He finally makes his way over to her, not being able to just watch her throat move again from a distance. He asks her if she’s gotten lucky tonight with the machine. She laughs and admits to having some luck, but not the kind she wanted. Vanessa is her name. He smiles and asks her why she’s all alone. She just looks up and down at him and says “I ask myself that question too” and smirks. Cleo doesn’t hesitate and immediately offers to help make her night more memorable. He’s got the penthouse suite at the top floor of the casino building, conveniently overlooking the city lights and it’s full moon. He offers to watch the city under the moonlight together, by his pool, just talking, no expectations. Her body starts speaking to Cleo again. She nods and smiles as if she’s finally gotten her wish.

They get off the elevator, and head into Cleo’s penthouse. They pass by his beautiful island kitchen, enormous living with blood red leather couches, and the master bedroom. She takes a sneak peak as they head towards the pool, curious to see how extravagant the bedroom must be. Cleo notices but doesn’t say a word. He loves that she’s curious. They make it to the pool, bigger and longer than she has seen before. Full moon glistening on the surface of the water, begging anyone around it to come inside it. They sit on one of the couches by the pool, next together, staring at each other, chatting the night away with jokes and stories about themselves. Vanessa at this point is getting impatient, but doesn’t know how to ask for what she wants. So she shows him. Cleo begins to notice Vanessa scooting closer, startling deeper into his eyes, and touching her neck. The neck he’s been craving to see move, but at a closer distance.

He starts to slowly caress her neck, letting her know that that is his favorite part of her body, for now. Vanessa can’t help but bite her lip and now her pussy’s wet. He asks permission to kiss it, maybe lick it. She moves her hair and gets closer to him. Cleo begins to kiss her neck, then slowly lick the spots he kissed. He can feel her softly moaning from the vibrations on her throat. “It’s about time” Vanessa thinks. He slowly makes his way up to her face, kissing her cheek and stopping right in front of her lips. They look at each other for a while, waiting to see who caves first. Vanessa whispers, “I dare you” Cleo smirks and without saying a word, wraps his entire hand around her neck gently, and brings her in for a kiss. One kiss leads to two, then 3, and that’s when Vanessa feels his grip get a slight bit tighter, and she responds by sticking her tongue in his mouth on the 4th kiss. They begin to passionately make out while Cleo is still gripping her neck, controlling her movement as he pleases. His hand eventually touches her day collar, and he says ‘Beautiful chocker” Vanessa smiles, happy to know he noticed, and replies, “Thank you, it represents what I like and who I am” They are both smiling at each others subliminal messages.

Vanessa can’t wait any longer and decides to try something new. She gets up and starts to slowly undress in front of Cleo. He can feel his dick growing more and more as she slowly takes off her heels, her jewelry, and her silky white dress. All she’s wearing now is her white lace bra and the sexiest red G-string. And when she finally puts her hair up in a messy bun, that’s when his dick grows rock hard. “Come take a dip with me” Vanessa says. Cleo happily stands up and starts to slowly get undressed himself. He slowly strips down to his boxer briefs and immediately sweeps Vanessa off her feet and carries her towards the pool. As they sink in, they start to passionately make out again. The pool is warm under the moonlight and a calming silence is in the air. That is until Vanessa starts to moan. She can feel Cleos fingers rubbing on her pussy underwater. She starts biting his lips as he starts to press a little harder and go a little faster. He moves her underwear aside and slides one finger inside her. Her eyes open and she stays completely still. She begs for another finger and he complies. He starts of slow, really allowing his 2 fingers to feel every bit of her. Then he starts to pick up his speed. Vanessa’s breathing is sporadic the faster he goes. She thought the water would bother her, but she feels nothing but pleasure. All her pussy cares about is Cleo.

He then abruptly stops, takes her to the edge of the pool, and has her sit on the edge with her legs dangle on the water. He spreads her legs open, and starts kissing her inner thighs. She starts playing with his luscious hair while she moans. She can feel his lips and saliva all over her thighs, waiting for her pussy to be covered in it. He makes out with Vanessa one more time, and then makes out with her pussy. Her eyes start to roll backwards as he eats her out. She hasn’t been this wet in a long time. Cleo starts moaning with her as he starts to play with her clit. That’s when Vanessa begins to moan louder. Cleos not stopping and she can tell she’s about to cum if he keeps going. Her body starts shaking as if an earthquake just hit, her muscles tighten, her back arches and she cant wait to squirt in his face. She grabs his hair and says “Please don’t stop” Cleo says nothing and continues devouring her. “I’m gonna squirt so much” Cleo knows this and can’t wait to taste it. Vanessa can feel her body tingling and thanking her for this moment. She moans one last time and starts squirting all over Cleo’s face. She can’t stop and Cleos not stopping either, he loves it. Cleo moans harder and harder the more he tastes her pussy juice, he loves how much she’s freaking out right now. Her pussy is throbbing and still squirting because of Cleos magical tongue. Finally, he stops and kisses her pussy, as if thanking it for its delicious juice. Vanessa is finally able to breathe a little bit, but she doesn’t want that. Cleo gets out of the pool and carries her into the bedroom. He bends her over on his bed and tells her to listen to Daddy and don’t move. She smiles and says “Yes Daddy” her pussy more wet now and ready to squirt again. She can’t see behind her, but she can feel his body heat near her. Very hot. She then feels his dick smacking her ass. Her pussy starts throbbing and although she can’t see his dick, she can tell that he’s big. Cleo puts the tip in and slowly goes in and out. Vanessa is beautifully bent over and eager to be taken. He suddenly puts whole cock inside her in one swift motion and they both moan out loud. He begins to start fucking her faster and harder. Vanessa’s ass is bouncing on his hard cock over and over again, the left over water from the pool and her pussy juice is flying everywhere. Her moans are getting louder, so Cleo reaches towards her and shuts her up. He doesn’t care if anyone hears, but he knows Vanessa’s body wants to be dominated. He keeps ramming her pussy as she begs for more. He shoves his entire cock inside her one last time, leaves it there for a couple of seconds, and then pulls out.

Cleo points to the floor and says, “Get on your knees. I wanna see that beautiful face looking up at me” Vanessa is completely in the moment and without hesitation, gets on her knees on the floor and sticks her tongue as she smiles up to him. Cleo smirks and says, “Good girl” as he slips the tip of his cock in her mouth. The minute his cock touches her tongue, she can taste her pussy juice all over him and it drives her wild. She loves how she tastes, and so does he. She starts to lick his rock hard cock up and down like a popsicle on a hot summer day. She wants to lick all her pussy juice off his dick so badly. Once she finishes, she lovingly puts him inside her mouth. She starts sucking oh his juicy cock slowly and wants to see how far she can go. Cleos is watching her beautiful performance. He loves that she kept her day collar on and how she stares at him from time to time, letting him know with her eyes that she’s all his. She feel his cock hit the back of her throat, so she stretches her throat out wider to have his cock slide down her throat. Vanessa looks up at him while she tries to deep throat. Her eyes are getting watery and she’s gagging, and she loves it. Cleo is watching, turned on by how badly she wants his cock down her throat. He’s caressing her face and letting her know she’s doing such a good job, just how a good girl should. Her throat and pussy are so wet by him and his words, she can finally feel his cock slide down her throat, stretching it to its limits, and no gagging this time. Cleo moans loudly and looks up at the ceiling. The feeling of her tight throat wrapped around his dick is phenomenal. She stays there for a couple of seconds, savoring his taste and the moment. She finally needs to breathe and lets his cock free, but immediately grabs it with her hands and starts to jack him off. Her saliva is all over his dick and her hands from all that deepthroating. Its a sloppy mess and Cleos eyes are now rolling to the back of his head. Vanessa start to jack him off with both hands and adds her mouth everyone and then, driving Cleo wild. He then grabs her hair and pulls her off him, grabs her and throws her on the bed again, this time jumping onto of her ready to finish her off.

He uses his now sloppy cock to rub her clit vigorously and make her squirt again. Vanessa starts breathing sporadically again and shaking all over. She squirts immediately all over his cock and just then, Cleo cups his hand and catches her pussy juice in it and rubs it all over her body. Vanessa can’t believe this is happening and can’t stop squirting. He catches more of her pussy juice but this time, spreads it all over his own body. She can’t fathom what has just happened and before she can even think, Cleos already fully inside her, ramming his dick in her over and over again. Vanessa can’t help but moan louder than ever, having just squirted non stop and now about to experience a different type of orgasm. Cleo allows her to scream, loving how much pleasure he’s giving her. It’s exactly what she needed. Watching her body squirm and shake makes Cleo go hard and faster. The sound of their bodies clashing together, the juice all over them, and the smell of a spontaneous rendezvous, makes Cleo want to cum now more than ever. “Oh my god I’m cumming so hard Daddy, please don’t fucking stop” This pushes Cleo over the edge and he can feel his dick throbbing inside her, he’s gonna cum too. He pounds her pussy for a couple more strokes while she screams, and then finally pulls out and cuts all over her gorgeous tits and face. Cleos cum is shooting out and it isn’t stopping. Vanessa is still experiencing her orgasm and manages to catch some of his cum in her mouth and spreads the rest of his cum all over her body. They both came at the same time, tasting each others juices. Cleo drops his body next to hers and they lie there, trying to catch their breath. They look into each others eyes and communicate without words. This was exactly what she needed.

[sukirichi]

dutifully yours. [01]

Attached to the could’ve been’s of a promised happily ever after with the Crown Prince disguised under a scheme for power and greed, you are torn between choosing your happiness — or abandoning it to fulfill your duty as the future Queen.

→ unedited bcos i’m brave lazy. implied patriarchy. angst in future chapters. pure romance and fluff for now. royalty au. eventual smut. prince naoya !! i love him sm i could cry. this fic will break me, okay. naoya is close to canon but with my twist if that makes sense. drama in future chapters. oh and listen to this while reading <3

→ massive shoutout to my besties for always hyping me and helping me uwu, i present this token of prince naoya being an ideal husband okay cry cry i love him sm im crying. anyways pls enjoy bcos i poured my heart out to this and bcos i want more people in the naoya fucker club :>

one | next (to be posted)

Ever since the day your mother taught you how to read, you’ve had your nose buried in a book. Losing yourself in different worlds, swooning over fictional princes, and fantasizing for a love story ripped out of fairytale itself with such burning, passionate romance – you’d been through it all, dreamt of it all. And yet, you struggled to stop yourself from tugging at your dress.

The tight corset hadn’t even been the main focus of your worries, and neither was the heavy rivière resting on your collarbones.

“Would you stop fidgeting?” Beside you, your mother pursed her lips, fingers decorated with jewels stopping in their movements of fanning herself. The temperature hadn’t been particularly high inside the limousine that evening. You supposed it was the mere sight of you tugging and gulping audibly every now and then, gloved hands running over the hems of your collar.

You ducked your head down. “Sorry, Mother. I can’t help it.”

“Dear, your anxiety is written all over your face,” she sighed, turning your face to her as she cupped your cheeks. Smiling tenderly like a mother always did, your heart felt soothed even by the slightest bit. You wished she could keep holding you like this – like you were a fragile flower she was afraid of breaking; a fragile flower that needed more care handled than most. Tonight, however, you felt a hundred years older. Like you’d accidentally clicked on fast forward and got launched to the future. A future that seemed so unclear yet so...perfect. So right.

“How would the Prince fancy you if you’re sweating bullets like that? It’s not a good look for a marquess’ daughter.”

At the mention of the Crown Prince, your heart sank again. “My apologies, Mother. I’m just rather nervous. It’s the Crown Prince we’re talking about here.”

“He is quite the looker, isn’t he?” she giggled behind her fan, “Strong and handsome, as well.”

“My ladies. You are not fantasizing over the Crown Prince in my presence, are you?”

Crossing her leg over the other, your mother leaned forwards, elbows on her knees as she winked at your father. The marquess had his torso half twisted from the passenger seat, glaring playfully at your mother’s unabashed features. “It is of no seriousness, My Lord. I’m simply easing your daughter’s nerves.”

Your father sighed in worry. “What’s got you so worked up, child? You are beautiful. The Prince would be blind to not notice you.”

Each fibre in your body screamed in desperation for your father to be right. Tonight was not just any other night – the entire Kingdom, including noblewomen, foreign royals, and unwed daughters from honourable families had been invited to the Zen’in Castle for one purpose only: to find his Crown Prince a suitable wife, one that would be fit to be the next Queen as well. As the daughter of the marquess, you’d naturally received the invitation. It felt just like yesterday when the mail arrived and you’d cheered so much in joy the chickens went flying out of their coops, your horses galloping and whinnying at surprise, and now you here – minutes away from the palace where you were soon to be deemed worthy or unworthy to be beside His Highness.

With a shaky smile, you dug your nails into your thighs. “Well, we’ve only met once, Father. I doubt the Prince would remember me.”

“Just smile, darling. You will do great.”

To no one’s surprise, the Zen’in Castle brimmed with people and esteemed guests. Men and women danced with one another as muted chatters and chuckles blended in with the grand royal orchestra, everyone dressed to the nines and making you feel completely out of place.

The moment you’d been welcomed by the knights and led to the palace doors, your dress began to feel tighter than usual, your ribs clenching uncomfortably from the pressure. Your hands had not stopped trembling either, not even when you hid it behind your back and nodded at the people passing by. There were governor-generals, dukes, earls, professors and royal advisors and even families of the royal family’s inner circle of knights. Everyone looked like they belonged here. Chatting amongst one another over the finest of wines or discussing conspiracies on where the Kingdom of Zen’in would be in the next sixty years of the future King’s reign, no one here seemed to be out of place.

Everyone except you.

A warm hand was suddenly placed on the small of your back, making you gasp. Your mother’s smile was nothing short of warm as she held you close to her one last time, leaving a kiss on your forehead. You didn’t even realize how much you shook until she clasped her hands with yours. “Calm down, dear,” she reminded, “You’ll be on your own now. This is where we leave you since we’re not supposed to mingle with potential princesses.”

“Mother!” Your eyes widened in embarrassment. Looking around frantically, you bit your lip in fear someone must’ve heard.

Of course, while it would be no surprise most guests – if not all – hoped that their daughter would be the Crown Prince’s chosen fiancée, it still felt wrong to boldly assume such when you could barely keep up with the events of tonight.

However, your mother merely laughed. “I am proud of you, dear. Never forget that. It doesn’t matter whether you are chosen or not. We’re only here for formality and respect to the King and Queen’s demands.”

“You say that as if the Crown Prince really would not bother with me.”

“We didn’t mean that,” your father cut in, a flute of champagne already nested between his calloused fingers. Ever since you arrived, he’d been snatched away by fellow earls and barons, disappearing into the crowd for a ‘hearty conversation over one’s lands.’ You knew better than that, though. That statement always translated to which leader got to have more chances to wine and dine with the King, to which your family was ridiculously reminded of that you’d been stationed to the most faraway land where even hearing news from the royal papers was but a privilege.

“Just be yourself, alright? And enjoy the party. It’s about time you met with girls your own age and made some friends.”

“I – Father, wait!”

A slender young woman slithered to your side out of nowhere, her golden brown eyes following the silhouettes of your parents. It wasn’t long before they completely disappeared. Left alone with the stunning woman that was – for some reason – dressed in a plain black curve hugging dress too modest for tonight’s appropriateness, you took three steps away in caution. “You must be from way up North,” she noted, her head to the tipped to the side. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

God, was she beautiful. Long, thick eyelashes and short hair chopped in messy yet elegant curves, you struggled to hold her gaze. “Oh, yes, I come from the Terratian Borders. My family is stationed there under His Majesty’s orders.”

She hummed to herself. “The Terratian Borders are mostly forests and fields, no? The last time my family and I visited there, I came across the loveliest dandelions I’ve ever laid eyes on. Shame they died on the way back,” offering her hand – again, bare and empty with decorations yet still littered with faint scars and cuts – she beamed at you. “I’m Mai, by the way. Mai Zen’in.”

Zen’in?

Hands cupping your mouth, you bowed deep until your back ached. “Lady Mai!” you shut your eyes closed, unable to live with the shame. Mai Zen’in; one of the iconic twin pair from the extended Zen’in royal family, both a fashion icon and a legend for being a rumoured female knight. To have her in your presence was an honour. “My apologies for not recognizing you any sooner, Lady Mai!”

“Stand up, I’m not a royal,” she sniggered, “We’re just relatives of the actual monarch, but don’t let the family name fool you. The Crown Prince barely even acknowledges us being of the same blood.”

Albeit hesitant, you followed her gestures of making you stand up. You straightened your back and cleared your throat, fighting the urge to go haywire the moment his name was brought into the conversation. Not only would you be seeing Prince Naoya again in real life for the first time in years, but you’d also made acquaintances with his distant niece. However, his name was spoken with malice.

Frowning, you faced Lady Mai in all seriousness. “Prince Naoya? Why so?” Lady Mai looked at you like you’d grown two heads.

“He’s an ass, that’s why.”

“I-I don’t think he is,” you defended, “The Prince has been nothing but kind to me.”

“I didn’t know he was capable of kindness,” she muttered more so under her breath, low enough you were unsure whether you were supposed to hear it in the first place. Lady Mai then shook her head to herself before stealing a flute from a waiter passing by. Chucking it your way, her face turned dark and grim. “Take it as free advice: stay as far away from his as possible. The Crown Prince is nothing but good news.”

“Is it because he has lots of lovers?” you inquired with a small voice, “Uhm – well – It was an assumption. With a title and handsomeness like that, it would make sense everyone would want to be the Crown Prince’s lover.”

Lady Mai’s lip curled upwards. “Prince Naoya won’t bother with lovers. He is too occupied for that.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Heard from whom?”

“The Royal Declaration from His Majesty himself,” you said, “Was it not the purpose of this ball? To find worthy candidates to be the Crown Prince’s betrothed? His coronation is coming soon.”

“Right. I forgot today was technically a bridal market,” she scratched the edge of her brow, falling silent for a moment. Her eyes scanned the lively crowd for a brief moment – watching with you as everyone laughed and danced to their heart’s content – the grand final event of the routine personal dance with the Crown Prince himself slowly approaching to reality. “You are joining in the festivities, are you not? Later, when he arrives, he shall meet you.”

“I am obligated to as a noble bachelorette, though I doubt His Highness would even look my way. There are far richer noblewomen here and even daughters of duke that would be perfect as his wife. ”

“You may have a point for that,” she hummed to herself, unaware that her agreement to the Crown Prince not paying attention to you left a sting both in your ego and heart. Not that it lasted long, for Lady Mai was already tugged on the arm by another equally fiercely beautiful woman – her older twin, Maki Zen’in. Soon to be governon-general of the Kingdom.

Lady Mai smiled in apology. “I need to go now since I’m not a part of this event. But hey, if ever I come around to visit the Borders again, perhaps you could entertain me?”

“I would be honoured to, Lady Mai.”

“You are sweet and innocent,” it was her sister who spoke this time, glasses perched high on her nose that concealed the wariness of her gaze. “I hope the Crown Prince never gets to your routine.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s nothing; she was talking to herself. Maki does that a lot,” Lady Mai’s forced chuckles were barely heard from the music. “You enjoy the party now. Don’t drink too much lest you want to embarrass yourself in everyone’s eyes and be talk of the Kingdom. Prince Naoya would hate it if you took the attention away from him.”

“Oh, uhm...”

“It’s a joke, Lady Y/N. Relax.”

You bowed once more. “My apologies.”

“The dance is about to begin,” Maki tapped on your shoulder, making you look up right where her eyes zeroed in. And exactly in the middle of the grandiose hall, under the sparkling golden chandeliers where he made all the gold in the world look incomparable next to him, the Crown Prince stood in his fully glory. Blond hair with the ends stained of midnight gelled back to reveal his forehead, the Crown Prince’s beauty never failed to shine. Whether it be in the papers, in the tabloids, in the billboards that you passed on the way to the city, or from way back when you met him for the first time as a naive, innocent teen – Crown Prince Naoya came straight out of a magazine cover.

In the back of your head, you could hear either of the twins murmuring good luck. Maybe both of them had said it – you had no idea. All of your attention, all the sensibility and coherence of your state had been switched the next instant, as if your heart and soul was born for the sole purpose of being bewitched by your Crown Prince.

And as if feeling someone’s gaze on him, the Crown Prince’s eyes trailed over the crowd. Almost boredly, his sharp eyes bounced from one giggling woman to another, the ends of his lips smirking upwards for just the tiniest bit. It must’ve stroked his ego. Until his eyes connected with yours. The Crown Prince’s eyebrows knitted together. You had no idea how you looked in that moment, and quite frankly, you didn’t care. Because the Crown Prince was looking at you, and you were looking at him with hearts in your eyes along with your heart pulsing at the tip of your tongue.

“Let us begin,” his lips moved from the distance, “Play the music. I shall dance with my bride.”

The air shifted in a split second. Murmurs were thrown over the room, women and men alike turning pale. Even the orchestra was stunned from the Crown Prince’s entrance – and it hadn’t even been dramatic to his standards – yet the whole castle fell mum from just a few of his words. A few seconds later, the crowd recomposed itself, and the strings began to dance along with its bows.

You are pushed into the crowd. Nearly colliding into the arms of another, you quietly thank the masked man who was to be your first partner of the night.

All the men joining the dance floor dressed with the intention of making the Crown Prince shine. Prince Naoya stood out from the throng of white as per the colour code, his blood red uniform as both Prince with the  golden crest of the military leader pinned to his right breast. The other men meant to be filler partners until all the potential brides got to their designated three minutes with the Prince were all dressed in black, faces covered behind a plain black mask. None were allowed to talk. None were allowed to utter even a word, and so your partner pursed his lips in displeasure at your apology.

Whatever. You just had to wait a few more rounds before the song finished and transitioned into a new one; the song where you’d been informed would be your time alone with the Prince.

You’d been so lost in your head you barely breathed the entire dance. From partner to partner, you blanked. Your heart drummed so wildly in its cage it begged to come out, and strings of apologies were let out each time your masked partners grimaced for a brief second when their hands came in contact with your sweaty ones. Around you, all the lovely women smiled and danced graciously, mouths moving in unreadable conversations shared with the Crown Prince. Not once did you look at the six partners you’ve danced with. Not once did you worry about tripping on your own feet. Not once did you care that some of the masked men held you a little too roughly for your comfort. Your entire reason for existing in that moment was to witness the Crown Prince himself, mirroring his frown that got deeper and deeper with each woman retreating to the sea of people he’d rejected.

Not once did you even think about being one of them – the girls who’ve ducked their heads down as their parents comforted them over not being the chosen one, of bringing ‘dishonour’ to their families that the mighty Crown Prince had deemed them unworthy. Tears streamed down their faces until black ink followed afterwards, lips trembling from silent sobs.

Despite their broken prides – although there was that minority who simply sighed in relief after returning to their own families – no one would dare interrupt the Crown Prince’s dances.

All of these thoughts crossed your mind too late and at the exact time your masked partner pulled away from you, body half bent in a bow with his arm outstretched to the side. Following where he was gesturing at, your eyes met the Crown Prince’s tall and lean stature, a few blond fringes now fallen from his movements.

Even though a thin layer of sweat shone from his face, Prince Naoya remained ethereal.

And like a snake charmed by the musician’s seductive tone, your feet moved on its own. Fingers stretching until it met with the Crown Prince’s large and warm ones, you were now in front of him. With him. Holding him, touching him, meeting him eye for eye and realizing – gold. His eyes burned a deep shade of gold, elegantly rich and heartbreakingly stunning your heart ached.

Before you knew it, your hands began to tremble, feeling as if your body had been corded into a corset three sizes smaller. You could not breathe, and the Crown Prince took notice.

“You are stiff. Do I make you uncomfortable?” Good Saint. If only possible, you would’ve closed your eyes and basked in the deep warmth of his voice. It reverberated from deep within, breathed out with an air of natural authority and profound confidence it made your knees weak. As if sensing his effect on you (though for the wrong reasons, it seemed), Prince Naoya hummed to himself. “This routine shall last for a few minutes before I can let you go, I’m afraid.”

You instantly realized the implications of your silence. “N-not at all, Your Highness! I am honoured to be dancing with you.”

“There is no honour in a choreographed dance. Everyone will dance with me. It’s nothing special.”

Your heart fell. Prince Naoya not only sounded dejected, but detached as well. As if he found no pleasure or specialty in this event, at a time where he had every opportunity to meet his lover, and that this ball was merely a task to be checked off in his already long list of responsibilities. It wasn’t disappointment, per se, but rather melancholy that left a bitter taste in your mouth. Not because Prince Naoya held little to no regards for something you treasured, but because he sounded terribly alone. Like he was simply waiting for it to end out of discomfort.

“It’s special to me, Your Highness,” you blurted out faster than you could stop yourself. For a moment, you feared you may have offended him, but the Crown Prince only laughs.

And when he did – saint, when he laughed – his eyes crinkled into half moons, pearly whites flashing against the bright lights and his whole chest shook with amusement.

You’d never seen him smile this way before.

Prince Naoya’s laughter didn’t cease. Around you, your gut instincts told that people were now beginning to look; the Crown Prince’s deep rumbles of laughter sounded exquisitely like music as well, after all. “ Is it special to you because you are now dancing and within the Crown Prince’s proximity? As much as I presume how exhilarating it might be for those who mostly see me in the papers and in the tabloids, I assure you, dancing with your Prince is not an honour. Especially when you are all sent the invitations based on your status and not your worthy traits.”

“It’s special to me,” you mumbled, growing shy all of a sudden when the Crown Prince nodded at you to continue. “Because...because it reminds me of the first time we met.”

The Crown Prince hummed in amusement.

“We have met before?”

“Yes, Your Highness. I’m from the Terratian Borders – my father is a loyal servant of His Majesty. You visited the borders when you were eighteen and I was sixteen. Do you remember it, Your Highness? You stormed in my private library.”

Indeed, the young barely-out-of-his-teens Crown Prince barged into your home’s library years ago. You were not previously informed he and his parents would be visiting since they arrived wordlessly, so you were stuck in your chambers as usual, killing time if not for sleeping and tending to the animals. Perched on a ladder, you attempted to reach for a book on the upper shelf when your foot slipped beneath you. At the age of sixteen, you were dramatic enough to say your life flashed before your eyes. You would’ve screamed then had strong arms not appeared out of nowhere, the Crown Prince staring at you with wide, golden eyes as they were now, his breathy rasped as he asked, are you okay, my lady?

The mere recollection of that fateful memory had your cheeks warming in delight. “You were so charming and heroic back then. Even when I had no idea you were a royal, I would have still believed you to be princely,” you said rather absentmindedly, blinking once then twice at your words. “Of course, it’s understandable if you do not remember, Your Highness!”

“My apologies. I do not remember, though Terratia is a wonderful place. Such a shame I was not informed beforehand they had a lovely daughter.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” you cheered back, cheeks and jaw beginning to ache from how wide you were smiling. But could anyone blame you? You felt absolutely silly that you were a breath away from passing out minutes ago, and now here you were, dancing with the Crown Prince and sharing memories with him like it was a daily occurrence. The words it’s true love when you feel at peace with them suddenly rang back at your head from that latest romance novel you read, and you turned away, hoping the Crown Prince would not read your thoughts to your face. However, Prince Naoya’s lips pursed into a thin line, all traces of humour now disappeared. “I’m sorry – should I not have laughed?”

“No, I don’t mind,” he mused with his jaw locked tight, “I just haven’t seen anyone react that way before.”

“Like what?”

“Like my words meant the entire universe to them. I may dare even say you look terribly in love, though I cannot blame you on that one, can I?”

Prince Naoya shook his head the minute the words left his mouth. Forcing himself to believe it couldn’t be real, perhaps, you truly did not know anymore. Your only plan for tonight was to see the Crown Prince and get to live out your dream of seeing him once more even for just a brief moment before you travelled back home while he married another, and yet – “Your Highness, I’m in love with you. I have always been since the day we met.”

You could no longer stop the words. The voice at the back of your head begged you to shut up and not cause a scene, that your time had passed up and people were staring, yet you remained in his arms no matter how much you wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow you whole.

“Please do not misunderstand me, Your Highness. I did not come here to attempt to steal your heart and be your wife, though I will admit I have dreamt of meeting you again for so many moons. I...I only want to tell you this. That I love you and even though it was a brief moment, I think the love I’ve always read about felt real and possible for the first time in my life,” chuckling nervously, you gather to courage to face him, adoration shining for the Crown Prince stood shock still before you, however stunned he may be. “I love you, Your Highness. I love you. And to whoever lucky woman you choose to be your betrothed, I hope she takes care of you and showers you with all the affection you are deserving of. You would make a great King. So God help his Crown Prince, and may you lead us all into a better world.”

Prince Naoya did not budge a muscle. His eyes remained hard on yours, breath warm as his nostrils fumed. With each passing second that he did not speak, you grew restless and tugged your arm away from his hold with a disgraceful smile.

You’d truly crossed your line. The repercussions to be faced for this impoliteness would destroy your family’s honour. You had to leave. “Your Highness? The song has changed. It’s time to let go—”

The Crown Prince inched close enough until his hair tickled your cheeks, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine as he pulled you close, close enough that your lower bodies touched. Skin ablaze with heat, you dared not move an inch. “Do you mean it?” he demanded lowly, his fingers ghosting over your wrist to hold you in place. “Do you truly love me? Not for what I have, not for who I was born to be, but me as a person itself?”

Closing your eyes to shudder in a deep breath, you exhaled. “Of course, Your Highness. Even if you were not born as a Prince, I’m sure I would’ve still loved you in a different universe.”

“But I do not know you.”

“We don’t have to know each other, Your Highness, and we never will. Once you let me go, I’ll return to the shadows where I belong, and I will continue supporting you until the day of your coronation.”

“And if I refuse to let you go?” he clicked his tongue, “What will you do then?”

The Crown Prince’s spicy perfume must be an aphrodisiac or hypnotizer of sorts. Everything he did messed with your mind that it was too late – the music had stopped and people were no longer drinking or chatting. Everyone’s eyes were on you and the Crown Prince. You could only imagine how controversial this position must be; with his lips trailing dangerously close to that sensitive spot in your neck where you nearly moaned. You really needed to leave.

“P-people are looking, Your Highness. You do not want this affair with someone you won’t choose—”

“Who said I won’t choose you?” Finally, he pulled away. But Prince Naoya never once tore his gaze away from yours, nor did he allow you to look at anyone but him as he caresses your jaw so light and feathery you wondered if he was truly there.“Who said I haven’t laid my eyes on you the moment you walked in here? This ball is for naught because of you, Lady Y/N. I’ve already made my choice, and you helped me confirm it as soon as you danced with me.”

“Your Highness...”

“Look at me,” he ordered, your eyes flitting from his pinkish lips to his sharp nose and then to his fox-like gaze. Only this time, Prince Naoya was no longer harsh. “Don’t be scared.”

“But they’re looking.”

“You are with me, of course they’ll look,” he teased, “They wish to be you right now. But ignore them and dance one more time with me.”

It wasn’t like you had a choice, but did it matter? One nod from him was all it took before the orchestra fumbled back to their spots and a new song played, Ode of Moonlight Lovers, and the Crown Prince was guiding you back to where he had originally danced with you.

From the corners of your eyes, you caught a glimpse of your parents with their mouths gaped open; your father looking like he was on the verge of passing out. However, you felt nothing but joy, nothing but the adrenaline pumping through your veins as he danced and twirled you in his arms. When the music stopped and you were both panting for air with silly smiles on your face, it dawned on you that you were with the Prince. No, rather, it was only you and the Prince alone. Even in the sea of people whose faces began to blur, he prevailed crystal clear.

You could recognize him anywhere, find him everywhere.

Prince Naoya stepped impossibly closer until your chests touched, hearts beating as one. Cupping your jaw, he was near enough that he swallowed all your shaky breaths with a small, teasing smile like you both shared a secret the entire world could not know.

“Do I still make you nervous?”

Laughing, you nodded. “Yes, Your Highness. I feel like I’m going to explode.”

“It’s beloved now,” he corrected, face inching closer and closer to a point you could count the number of his lower lashes. “And what do lovers do to seal their union?”

“M-Marriage?”

“Close, but this is much better.”

If anyone were to tell you that you would have a love story ripped out straight from a fairytale, you would’ve laughed at their faces. You were no Cinderella, nor were you a goddess of beauty that could’ve possibly caught the Crown Prince’s eye. Yet, his soft lips were on yours, kissing you with as much passion you could only dream of that you cried.

Strong hands guiding the back of your waist, Prince Naoya dipped you lower to the ground – the grand of finish of his dance. He had chosen his bride.

The crowd cheered and rejoiced all around you, making you smile into the kiss. Fisting his collar to bring him closer to yours, your mouth burst into metaphorical fireworks as soon as his tongue mingled with yours for an experimental taste. He was bitter yet sweet; expensive wine resting on his tongue, yet a delicate vanilla sat heavily on his soft lips that molded with yours. It was a taste you could spend forever being addicted on. And you were crying, crying so much your chest ached and the Prince’s cheeks grew damp from yours. You’d dreamt of this for so long, too long now.

Prince Naoya slowly pulled you away, his thumb wiping the tears away from the pads of your cheeks with tenderness in his touch. However, the Prince was not satisfied. The crowd whooped as he leant down to kiss your forehead. “You are mine now, my princess.”

Looping his hands with yours, the Crown Prince led you out of the castle. The crowd parted naturally to make way for the new couple, and you were left staring at his broad back and the tuft of blond hair where you’d soon find out how soft it would be. Sending one last glance to your crying parents, you waved goodbye. You had no idea where the Crown Prince would take you but you were already bunching your dress up, heart completely filled with trust you did not question it. What mattered tonight and for the rest of your life was that it felt right. That it was him – your beloved Prince Naoya Zen’in and soon to be husband – that you’d follow through the moon and back.

[starlessea]

Doctor’s Orders (Daryl Dixon/Reader)

Prompt: “Why’d you always have to spoil my fun?” and “You nearly died!” Requested by anonymous​, numbers #6 and #16 from this post.

Summary: Daryl isn’t too impressed when he finds you with a sling on your arm and a smile on your face.

Words: 1766

Warnings: Language, Injury.

There were many things you feared more than death. There were many things you feared in general. Whether it was heights or small spaces, or even spiders - those spooky, crawly bastards - you would easily admit it when you were afraid.

In this new world, death was inevitable. You didn't want to die; leaving your family behind was out of the question. Though, it didn’t frighten you, either. Rather, you often found yourself scared of the more mundane things - those things that you could control - over something that was completely out of your hands.

There were many things you feared more than death, and Daryl Dixon was one of them.

Denise had gone to get the man, despite your pleas not to. She'd been good enough to patch you up, and mend the small cuts over your skin. They were only shallow, so they wouldn't leave any scars. It was the sling you were more concerned about.

You knew when Daryl saw it, you'd be in for an ear-full. It wasn't that bad an injury, but Denise had still doped you up on some pain-killers before leaving to find the man. It was meant to be an in-and-out job, but things never really did seem to go as planned.

"Who're you trying to kill with that smile?" Denise teased, as she walked back through the doorway to the clinic.

You had barely realised you'd been grinning from ear to ear until she’d said it. She was alone for the time being, so you thought you should take the opportunity to cherish the peace whilst it lasted.

"Myself, apparently." You chuckled, but let out a wince soon after.

The small movement had reminded you to keep still. It was only a broken bone, and you'd had worse before, but it ached all the same. Denise shook her head in return, letting out a huff of air as she stared at you exasperated.

"You are the first person to come into my clinic beaming like that whilst injured." She muttered, and you sloppily shrugged one shoulder in response.

Then you heard the main door fling open, and slam into the wall - and sighed.

"Here he comes." You muttered, and braced for impact.

Daryl stormed into the clinic like he was on a mission. He was sweaty, and you noticed that he was missing his jacket. He rushed through the doorway and whipped his head around the room until his eyes finally settled on you, sitting on the bed in the corner. You offered him a sheepish smile, and raised your good arm to give him a small wave.

The man stalked straight past Denise and made his way to your bedside, standing over you in an instant.

"What the fuck were ya thinkin'?" He yelled.

It wasn't that you feared Daryl Dixon's temper - that, you could manage. What you feared was that certain look in his eyes, and you saw it now as you met his gaze. His chest heaved, and most would probably think it was from anger. But, you knew better than that. He'd probably run over here in a panic. That is what you could see in his expression - pure worry.

"Nice to see you, too." You joked light-heartedly, trying to mask your guilt.

Daryl glanced at you, letting his eyes trail over the shallow cuts on your face all the way down to your arm - which sat tucked away in its sling. He shook his head, and took small paces in front of you.

"Ya leave for a supply run-" he started, almost below his breath. "An' Denise comes to tell me ya jumped outta a movin' truck!"

His voice rose as he spoke, and his final words came out as a loud growl that made you swallow thickly. You were ashamed, but you also thought that the man worried too much. If it were down to him, he'd have you wrapped up in cotton wool everytime you left the gates of Alexandria.

"It wasn't even going that fast." You mumbled back, defensively.

Denise had her back pressed flat against the wall, inadvertently caught in the cross-fire. She was in too deep to leave unnoticed, and stood there awkwardly watching the exchange. You sent her an apologetic smile, before looking back up at the man.

"Why'd you always have to spoil my fun?" You teased, but felt like you might have stepped on a landmine when you saw him scowl.

Daryl threw his hands up in frustration, and narrowed his eyes at your injury again.

"Ya nearly died!" He shouted, his voice guttural as it cut through the room.

"Exactly." You quipped back, but instantly regretted it.

You'd only been trying to convince him that you were fine, but Daryl seemed inconsolable. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or perhaps the pain-killers, but you realised that you may have been acting a little too care-free. You weren't so much scared of Daryl as you were of hurting him.

"It's only a broken collar bone." Denise interjected, once she finally mustered the confidence to do so. "She'll be fine."

Daryl whipped his head around, as though he'd forgotten she was even there. He stayed silent, but you tried your best to help coax him.

"Listen to the doctor, Dixon." You reminded the man, but with a much softer tone this time.

Daryl stopped his pacing, and instead made his way back over to you. He closed the gap as he approached, and your knees knocked together with his from where you were sitting on the bed. You could still see the pain in his eyes, and it made you realised that you must be one of the things Daryl Dixon feared, too.

He rested his palm over your cheek tentatively, careful not to brush up against the fresh wounds that marred your skin. You leaned into his warm touch, and placed your own hand over his in return.

"Don't worry your pretty little head over me." You whispered, giving him a reassuring smile. "I promise I'll be more careful."

Daryl became like putty in your hands at that, and his expression softened like he'd only just allowed himself to relax. The entire time, it was as though the man had been running on pure adrenaline, and nobody could convince him that you were okay - even if he’d seen it with his own eyes.

In your peripheral, you noticed Denise looking at you - but she quickly glanced away when she realised she'd been caught. You could tell that she didn't want to intrude on the tender moment, but was curious to see Daryl so vulnerable at the same time.

The man stayed like that for a few seconds, letting your thumb rub over the back of his hand as he inspected your injuries some more.

"C'mon." He mumbled finally, and took a few steps backwards to let you stand up.

He retrieved your gear which had been left on a nearby chair, and slung it over his shoulder before walking to the door. You followed after him with careful footsteps, feeling as the pain jolted up your body. You sent a smile to Denise, and thanked her, but she shook her head in response - humble as ever.

"Look after her, Daryl." She called out to the man, as she saw the both of you off at the doorstep of the clinic. "Doctor's orders."

Daryl was normally a gentle man. He wasn't the type to have to be reminded to take good care of you. But, sometimes, he seemed to forget his own strength - along with his patience.

"Oww!" You shrieked, and flinched away.

The two of you were in your bedroom, and Daryl had been left with the impossible task of getting you dressed. He'd done a good job of it so far, but when it came your shirt all hell broke loose.

"Stop!" You yelled again, but the man had your arm tightly within his grip. "You're killing me!"

He'd gotten the first sleeve on just fine - but the other one was giving him grief. You'd slipped your arm out of the sling, but had trouble lifting it high enough to get your hand through the hole. The man kept trying to get you to straighten it, but you saw stars every time he did.

"So, wha'?" Daryl grumbled, seeming at the end of his rope. "Dyin' suddenly ain't tha' fun 'nymore?"

You winced as you jolted away too suddenly. At one point, you'd tried to convince him to just button up the shirt with only one arm in it - but he'd shot you a look and muttered something about 'making a fashion statement' under his breath.

"I ain't killin' ya." He continued, noticing your look of pain. "Jus' stop movin' an' it'll be over quicker."

You tried to do just that, but your arm wouldn't bend in the way he wanted it to - and you cried out again.

"It hurts!" You told him, and recoiled away. "You're pulling too hard."

Daryl wore an expression of utter exasperation, and opened his mouth to snap something back. Except, there was a knock at the door before he could.

You jumped again, having not even heard anyone come into the house - and breathed out through gritted teeth at the discomfort it caused.

"What the hell is going on in there?" A voice asked through the wall.

"Glenn?" You replied, immediately recognising him.

Daryl shot you a look, and you could tell he blamed you for all this. You rolled your eyes in response, and Glenn spoke again.

"Rick sent me to get you." He called, still behind the closed door. "Did you forget we had a meeting?"

Daryl let the sleeve of the shirt drop from his hand, and let out a heavy sigh.

"Ain't forget nothin'." He shouted back. "Jus' runnin' late 'cos of princess pain tolerance."

"Daryl?" Glenn asked, and you snorted.

You saw the handle on the door twist slightly, but Daryl quickly elbowed it shut before Glenn could enter.

"We'll be there soon!" You explained. "Daryl's helping me get dressed."

There was silence on the other side for a few seconds, and Daryl returned back to you - looking over at the shirt like he considered just taking it off again. You giggled at his expression, before you heard Glenn clear his throat from behind the door.

"Right." He said quietly, but you still caught it. "There are some things I'd rather not know."

A/N I broke my collar bone before and it was so painful... I remembered the struggles of getting dressed and HAD to write a scene about it.

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[ganseybois]

prompt for @lovelykitten2017 who requested:  Thomas is the only omega in the shelby family and the rest are fiercely protective of him. So when it comes time for thomas to choose a partner, Arthur fights each alpha that shows up to test them. Then alfie shows up and outwits Arthur with his words instead of fists XD Thomas is very impressed.

Tommy rolled his eyes when he saw Arthur flex over the beat up body of the Alpha before him. This day, more than anything, was about Arthur showing off instead of Tommy finding a partner. He had put it off for long enough, and now that it was here, now that someone was actually going to try and be his mate (he fucking hated that word) Arthur had decided that Tommy could only be with someone who was stronger than the eldest Shelby brother. 

“Tommy, brother!” he exclaimed, wiping blood off his face. “You might be alone forever.”

“Fine with me.” Tommy sighed, sitting down on the front step of his very, very large house. As the only omega in the family, it had surprised a lot of people in England that he had been able to rise to power, earn the most money, and get the largest house. But even Tommy had to admit—he was lonely. He did want someone. Someone who could complement him as a partner, and not be afraid to be outshined by him.

They were doing this outside for some fucking reason, the suitors coming around the side of the house one at a time to challenge Arthur. Tommy watched as another one came around, Ada pointing at where to go before she went back to surveying the others. This one was a bit older than the other alphas he had seen today, a thick beard, messy bed hair, and was sporting a cane. Whether it was for a fashion statement or not, Tommy did not know, but he could see that his walk was a bit heavy—but again, was that for show? Tommy leaned forward, intrigued. His eyes were dark, his face handsome, and he looked thick and large, but not muscular necessarily. Just…big. He took up space. He was wearing black trousers and a casual white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the collar was undone showing off a nice amount of skin. 

“Thomas Shelby, yeah?” he pointed his cane at him. 

Tommy raised his eyebrows. No one had directly addressed him all day. “Yes?”

The man looked into his eyes, not over his face or body like everyone else had. “Been wanting to meet you for a long time, mate.”

Arthur snapped, “Who the fuck are you?”

“Who the fuck am I?” The man’s gaze flew to him immediately. “I, yeah, am one of the most well-known businessmen in all of fucking England, aren’t I? I am a man, the only fucking man, worthy of even standing in the same room as Thomas fucking Shelby, aren’t I?”

Tommy leaned back, stretching out his legs. “What makes you think so?” he called. 

“Because, I’m Alfie fucking Solomons.”

This surprised Arthur too—of course they knew who he was. It was true, he was a major player in England, as big as Tommy was. They just hadn’t yet met. 

Arthur huffed. “It doesn’t matter who you are, only how you perform in a fight.”

“Perform?” Alfie scoffed. “Mate, I am not going to fucking fight you.”

“Afraid are you?”

“Afraid? Of you?” Alfie almost grinned. “Mate, listen close, right? I am very capable of beating you into a bloody mess, it’s imperative that you understand that. You will fucking look like an animal, dead, on the side of the fucking road.”

“If you’re so sure, then fight me.”

“I cannot do that.”

Tommy frowned. “Why not?”

“Right, here’s the thing, the making of a man, right, is not how well they can throw a fucking punch, right? We all fought in the war, I already fucking know we are already tough or whatever the fuck it is you’re trying to prove here with this fucking nonsense.” Tommy could see Alfie grin a little, when Tommy let slip a smile. 

“So Mr. Solomons,” Tommy surveyed him eagerly, “what does make a man?”

Arthur frowned, not enjoying being left out. “I already know what makes a fucking man, which is why we are having this tournament.”

“Nah mate,” Alfie got close to him, looking at him in the eyes, “what makes a man, is not even how well he fucks. It is about what he can fucking provide to his partner.”

“My brother doesn’t need anyone to provide for him.”

“Not money, no. Maybe not even protection. But I am here, yeah, because I can provide the kind of security your brother craves. That we all fucking crave, no matter what or who we are. Comfort, Arthur Shelby, and safety. Something men like us have not known for most of our lives.”

Arthur looked annoyed, but ultimately had nothing to say. He looked over at Tommy, as if to say, now what? 

Tommy grinned, “All right, Mr. Solomons, you have my attention.”

Alfie grinned back, and for the first time in his life, Tommy felt something stir inside him.

[elysianslove]

in between you; gojō satoru, kuroo tetsurō

requested by anon; ❝ initially i was thinking that the reader is w satoru and they’re out together on a mission or vacation? they tryna have some fun together, and even possibly include a third party just this one time cause they’re feeling esp freaky, adventurous, but still wanna keep this experience private~~👁 👄 👁 they see tetsu (aged up plss! i mean technically he already is now, right? o:) & have this instinctive feeling that he’s the perfect choice for whatever reason hahaha 😂 but honestly tho, take it as you want it! i would just be ecstatic to see these two in one story for the first time<3 ❞

pairings; gojō satoru x reader x kuroo tetsurō

genre; smut

warnings; threesome, double penetration (vaginal and anal), oral (fem!receiving) under the cut

note; this took me over 5 hours, and i haven’t entirely proofread this 3.5k+ worth of filth so i’m sorry for any mistakes! i hope everyone enjoys <3

━ the air in brazil is considerably more humid than tokyo, and it’s evident in the way your clothes stick to your skin, despite the general lack thereof. still, you don’t falter for a moment as you walk through the crowd, fingers linked with your lover’s as you lead the way. you’re not entirely sure where you’re headed, or what your exact destination is, but instead of filling you with nerves, it lights your nerves with excitement. it could be the humid, or the alcohol you’d downed not too long ago, or simply the unfamiliarity of the area and language, but time seems to move slow, you with it. the people around you are a blur of tan skin and colorful clothing and bright, ecstatic smiles, and it feels like the only two people that exist in this very moment are you, and your lover.

and him.

you’re breathless for a reason you’re unable to pinpoint at when you pull satoru aside, fisting at the shirt he dons, pushing your body flush against his. you lift yourself up slightly, the height difference between the two of you significant, before you murmur, “i want him.”

it’s not an off-putting statement to hear from you, at least not after your discussion prior a few weeks ago. after agreeing that inviting a third person into your bedroom, even if just for one night, would be an interesting addition, the conversation had faded away, and your private life was left in fate’s hands. it had only been when your lover had surprised you with a plane ticket and a long since needed vacation had the conversation arisen again, and ever since two nights ago, you’d wandered the streets in search of the perfect candidate.

“hm,” satoru hums amusingly, a teasing smile on his lips as he thumbs at your jaw gently. he looks over the man twice. he’s tall, possibly as tall as satoru, with dark hair a complete contrast to satoru’s own white wisps of strands. he wears simple clothing, yet it remains as fashionable as ever with the stance he takes, the smirk he wears on his lips, the confident aura that surrounds him as he thanks a vendor for a shot, downing it straight. he’s the exact image of a man he’d assumed you’d choose. “you sure, doll?”

you nod firmly, your gaze fixated on the dark haired man. satoru’s eyes have returned to you; he’s not sure why you’re as certain as you are, but he’s never been one capable of ever saying no to you, so he turns you around, arm thrown over your shoulders, and walks the two of you towards the man.

it’s almost as if he had been expecting you. empty shot glass disregarded, he lifts a hand to run his fingers through his hair, shaking them out, inviting smile never faltering. subconsciously, satoru’s arm slips off your shoulders, hand falling to grasp at your waist as you almost tip over, clumsy and heavy with desire, nearly falling into the man’s arms. small fingers grip at his shirt lightly, teasingly, and with wide, pleading eyes, you say, “come home with us tonight.”

one of the man’s large hands crawl up to rest above your palm, and he meets satoru’s eyes from behind you. they seem to speak to one another through simple, barely noticeable expressions, their eyes talking up a novel. until the dark haired man tightens his hand around yours while lifting the other to cup gently at your chin, before he leans down closer to you, whispering, “call me tetsurō, pretty girl.”

you kiss him before satoru  manages to shut the hotel door behind you. permission and consent fully granted from your lover, you pull yourself closer to the man, hands gripping helplessly at the collar of his shirt, pressing your lips harder against his. daringly, your mouth falls open, tongue easily slipping out and into his own mouth, twisting your tongue with his. you continue to kiss him open mouthed, your hands snaking up roughly from his collar, up to the nape of his neck, to his roughed up hair. naturally, it had seemed tousled, and you can’t help but picture the way it would be when you finally get to play with him.

from behind you, satoru’s arms wrap around your middle, hands groping at whatever skin is revealed from your clothing, sinking beneath your shirt. his hot mouth is upon your neck immediately, his teeth biting and his tongue licking and his mouth sucking as he paints a pretty bruise on your skin. he can feel your pulse burn alive beneath his abusing mouth, but it only encourages him, his hands traveling higher to grope at your breasts.

the slowness of the pace infuriates you, and you whimper against testurō’s mouth, pulling back breathlessly to lean into your lover’s arms. you lift one arm to run it through his hair, tugging lightly just the way you’ve learnt he likes it as he continues to taint your skin, while you drag your other free hand down tetsurō’s chest, thumbing at the buttons of his shirt impatiently.

lips leave your neck suddenly, satoru’s hands tightening around your breasts as he encourages directly by your ear, “use your big girl words, doll.” tetsurō watches with amusement as you shiver at his words, his fingers already working at unbuttoning his shirt.

with a hitch in your breath, you reply, “i want to fuck you both, please— please want to be stuffed full, please!”

at your words, tetsurō’s eyes widen slightly, an eyebrow raised in cheerful shock. “you’re gonna be a fun one, aren’t you?” he wonders out loud, finally freeing himself of his shirt, grabbing at it and pulling it off his shoulders. the movement of his arms flexes his muscles even more, and you’re sure he’s showing off properly, but you decide you can’t entirely blame him, not with the body he hides beneath. he’s toned, muscular and big and strong and so perfect.

it’s a blur as the three of you rush to rid yourself of your clothes, tetsurō being the first to finish, quick to sprawl on the king bed in the middle of the room. his cock stands shamelessly hard against his stomach as he leans up on his elbows, watching as satoru easily lifts you on his shoulders, his own cock twitching as you squeal loudly, before he tosses you on the bed.

“mmm,” tetsurō approvingly hums, “pretty tits. bet your pussy’s pretty too.” he’s leaning on one elbow now, hovering by your side as his fingers ghost over your chest and between your breasts, dancing around your nipples teasingly, leaving an array of goosebumps in their wake.

satoru’s hands are on your thighs, slowing spreading them open, crawling lower till his face hovers by your cunt. your chest is heaving with anticipation as you stare at him between your legs, as he leans his face forward slightly to lick a stripe at your folds, up to your clit, before he latches his mouth around it. his head tilts as he sucks harder, reveling in the way your hands scramble to cover your face in embarrassment, breathless, desperate cries leaving your lips repeatedly. tetsurō’s mouth occupies itself with one of your nipples, his technique eerily similar to the way satoru sucks and licks at your clit.

“come on, doll,” satoru urges between licking and sucking at your folds. “let him see you. you know you have the most gorgeous face when you cum.”

to reinforce his statement, pulls your clit between his teeth, rolling it softly. your back arches, pushing your hips harsher against his mouth, your eyes completely shut even as your hands fly to his hair. tetsurō’s fingers graze your lower abdomen, but you barely have half a mind to register this with your breasts bruised and your nipples sore and aching, that when his fingers dip past satoru’s mouth on your clit to find your entrance, you let out a choked scream, fingers tightening impossibly in satoru’s hair.

“you gonna show me how pretty you look cumming?” tetsurō praises, his other hand twisting in your hair and pulling slightly, urging you to open your eyes. they snap open, meeting his momentarily, before they fall onto satoru’s hungry ones. fuck, the feel of them both, the sight of them both, it’s dizzyingly overwhelming, that your high hits you within seconds, beginning at your core before traveling all across your body, leaving you a trembling and sobbing mess as your eyes roll back. “yeah, that’s it,” tetsurō encourages as satoru moans around your clit, both his mouth and tetsurō’s fingers milking you of everything that you have to offer. “cum all my fingers and your boyfriend’s mouth. such a good girl, making a mess of us.”

mercifully, at the feel of your attempt to shut your legs, satoru lifts himself up from between your legs, grinning up at you the way he always does, his lips a complete mess. and just like always, you reach over to cup his face, pulling him in for a kiss. against your lips, muffled slightly by the way you greedily kiss at him, he says, “tasted so good, baby.” you kiss him harder, losing yourself within the familiar taste and feel of him, your hand mindlessly reaching out for tetsurō, resting upon the nape of his neck and pulling him towards you. you unlatch your mouth from satoru’s, urging tetsurō closer until his lips are on yours.

from the position you lay in, you can barely feel the graze of satoru’s cock against your sensitive clit, the tip nudging the bundle of nerves unintentionally. it reminds you of what you really want, what you truly desire, forcing you to pull back, either hand resting on either man’s cheek, eyes honest as you look between them and say, “can i please have your cocks now?”

in true fashion of your lover, he laughs lightly, leaning down to press a kiss to your jaw. “since you asked so nicely,” he replies.

“how do you want us, beautiful?” tetsurō asks, both him and satoru allowing you space to sit up.

“however way you want me,” you tell him, and unable to hide it, he visibly sucks in a sharp breath at your words.

satoru hums amusingly at his reaction, hand resting on tetsurō’s shoulder and pushing him back onto the bed, before he turns to you, leaning his body closer to you. one arm encloses you within him, his other hand cupping at your jaw, thumb at your lips. “i want you to ride him. will you do that for me, baby?” he asks, but the way the question is stated has tetsurō guessing the older man had already known the answer prior, and his theory’s proven when you nod eagerly, no second thoughts given. his cock hardens impossibly at the sight of you almost cowering in front of satoru, staring up at him with faux innocence and unbelievable desire. “can i fuck your ass too, pretty girl?” satoru continues, smiling proudly when you nod again.

with just as much enthusiasm, you crawl over to tetsurō, lifting one leg to straddle him properly. at the sight of your glistening thighs and drenched cunt spread above him, tetsurō curses lowly, hand flying to fist at his cock slowly, twisting his wrist at the head, smearing his precum all over. after a few seconds of fumbling from his left, a condom lands on his chest, and a bottle of lube falls to his side on the mattress beneath him.

as he picks up the plastic, eyeing the lube, he quirks an eyebrow at the couple before him, smirking with the package between his teeth, ripping it apart. when he tosses the plastic wrapping away, he wonders with a teasing voice, “you two planned this?”  

satoru’s eyes lock with his, with his lips on your throat again, kissing along the bruises he’d painted upon your skin. “you planning on fucking her before she regrets her decision?” satoru taunts, hands returning to twist at your aching nipples while tetsurō rolls the condom onto his cock.

“so impatient,” tetsurō tuts, smearing some lube on his cock as his hand reaches out for your thigh, resting there while you lean up on your knees.

he lines himself up at your entrance, tip teasing between your folds momentarily, before he hears you let out a pained sigh, a whiny, dragged out, “tetsu.” his fist tightens at the base of his cock and he steadies it, watching with mesmerization as you sink slowly onto it, his cock disappearing into you inch by inch, your cunt stretching to accommodate him. tetsurō knows he’s big, and has multiple partners in which they’ve done nothing but stroke at his ego with the way they struggle to take him all in. but despite the way your hips stutter ever so slightly, the way your body’s impossibly tense, the way your cunt is spasming around him, the way your eyes screw shut, even as satoru’s guiding hands remain on your waist — you don’t falter. you continue to take him in, easing him into you, your cunt sucking him in until he’s completely bottomed out, until you sit all pretty and perfect on his lap, stretched out and full of his cock.

“good girl,” satoru praises from behind you, and tetsurō’s thankful he’s said it, because the way you’re feeling around him, he doubts he can conjure up proper words. “such a good girl. took him so well, baby, m’so proud of you.”

you whine, tossing your head back on your lover’s shoulder, hands grabbing at his large ones at your waist. tetsurō’s hands are still on your thighs, squeezing and caressing the flesh soothingly and encouragingly. he wants to praise you, but satoru’s said it all.

“ready for me?” satoru asks, smiling proudly when you nod and your head falls forward, your body slowly with it. you lean down, curling in on tetsurō, and he gratefully accepts you in his arms.

you rest your head on his chest, his cock shifting slightly inside of you at your movement, while his arms move to wrap around you, watching over your shoulders as satoru’s fingers, wet and glossy with lube, meet your other hole. he feels you flinch, tightening and clenching around his cock instinctively, and he’s quick to shush you as he sees satoru’s finger slowly sink in. “you wanna be good for him too, don’t you?” tetsurō gently coerces, cooing as you nod in his hold, mumbling incoherently.

as tetsurō’s cock twitches desperately inside of you, satoru continues to finger your ass, adding a second finger, then a third, once he feels content enough to. with your ass gradually stretching around satoru’s fingers, tetsurō, mindlessly, begins to roll his hips, shallowly thrusting into you. the languid pleasure of satoru’s fingers and tetsurō’s teasing strokes have your hands tightening into fists, your lower lip tucked between your teeth as you swallow your moans. you don’t speak up when you feel ready enough for satoru’s cock, knowing that he knows you even better than you do yourself, aware that he’s capable of understanding your body and its reactions better, completely giving into him, until finally, his fingers slip out of you with a loud squelch, the tip of his cock replacing them before you could mourn the loss.

slowly, his cock wet and cold from the lube he’d poured, he eases himself inside of you, a guttural groan slipping out from his lips as your ass clenches around him. he hisses at the sensation, hand resting on your lower back kindly. “relax, doll,” he soothes you.

tetsurō’s own large hands move to grip your ass, spreading it more for satoru, and using it as leverage to start thrusting up properly into you. you lift yourself slightly, moving your hands to rest by tetsurō’s head as satoru bottoms out inside of you, your body shifting slightly along tetsurō’s as he fucks up into you. at the feel of both cocks stuffing you, you cry out, your stomach feeling heavy with the overwhelming pleasure, your mouth falling to hang open in an endless, helpless sob as they both start to fuck you at a desperate pace.

“fuck, fuck,” tetsurō chants from beneath you, panting with every slap of skin against skin. “fuck, you feel amazing. can feel your cunt gushing ‘round me, shit.” with every push of satoru’s thrusts, your hard nipples drag along tetsurō’s chest, heightening your sensitivity. you choke at his words, hands fisting at the sheets by his head. 

tetsurō’s thrusts are precise, harsh and diligent, fucking into you with fervor and want, sharply and shallowly. you never are properly rid of his cock from inside of you, each drag more earth shattering than the last. satoru’s thrusts, although they match tetsurō’s pace almost eerily, are teasing and taunting, feeding into your desire for him, forcing you to become more and more desperate, forcing you to rock back your hips searching for more.

“wanna cum, wanna cum, wanna cum,” you beg, arms weakening, your head falling into the crook of tetsurō’s neck as you let them use your body. “please, wanna cum,” you wail against his skin, pleading at either one of them. satoru’s hands grip at your hips, grip bruising, careful blue eyes watching as you tilt your head on tetsurō’s chest, body rocking in time with each of their movements as you say, “please, satoru. please, baby.”

his breath stops at his throat, and he snaps your hips flush against his shockingly hard, looking over at tetsurō momentarily. then, simultaneously, voices scarily similar and deep, they instruct, “cum for us, pretty thing.”

and obey you do.

your body convulses impossibly, your screams scratching at your throat, echoing around the hotel room. your holes clench around their cocks, immediately sending them over the edge as your insides spasm uncontrollably, milking them of their cum. with a low shout, and a ‘fuck,’ tetsurō spills into the condom, while satoru fills you up, and you’re left a sticky mess.

and just as you feel satoru’s fluttering touch to your lower back, the world dims around you, and you succumb to it gratefully.

when you awaken next, you’re both clean and dry, dressed in a loose shirt that’s easily identifiable as satoru’s. with the deep ache that’s settled in your bones and muscles, and the tiredness that’s completely overtaken you, you make no move to leave the comfort of the warm bed. your eyes are shutting steadily, your body sinking deeper into the mattress, before you feel a presence before you by the edge of the bed, before you hear said presence kneel by you, reach out to brush away at your hair, before poking at your nose jokingly. you scrunch it up, eyes falling open once more. at the sight of your grinning partner, you can’t help but smile back, fists tightening in the blanket that surrounds you.

satoru looks up momentarily, nodding at a figure by his side and confirming, “yeah, she’s awake.”

not wanting to be completely clueless, you urge yourself to move, sitting up on the bed and stretching your arms up as you finally identify the figure that had been standing by satoru’s side, and you’re immediately taken back by hours — hours? — earlier, and the position you’d been in with him. “oh, hey,” you say a little awkwardly.

tetsurō laughs lightly, hands settled into the pockets of his trousers. “oh hey,” he mimics you jokingly. “i wanted to wait to leave after i said goodbye. and thank you for the great night.”

you scoff teasingly, replying, “or you just wanted free hotel food.”

he shrugs. “not denying nor affirming,” he says, and you chuckle, shuffling along the bed to allow space for satoru to sit by you. “but thank you; it really was great.”

satoru leans by you, hand resting behind you, shoulder brushing against yours. “no worries,” he says brightly, adding, “take care, yeah?”

tetsurō only nods with a smile, waving at you, before he walks himself to the door, leaving you finally alone with your lover. satoru leans into you, resting his chin on your shoulder, tilting his head slightly to glance at you. you lift up a hand in response, slightly ruffling his hair, and whispering a low, “thank you,” before placing a soft kiss to his forehead.

he breathes out softly, smiling a little tiredly at you. “always love making you happy,” he reassures, leaning more into you to kiss your cheek. despite the low grumbling of your stomach— no doubt had you worked up an appetite— you let him push you back, let him wrap his arms around you, let him nuzzle into you. and despite how you’d just been with another man, as you fall back into a deep sleep, the only one that graces your dreams is satoru gojō.

[waitimcomingtoo]

In Case You Don’t Live Forever

~chapter three rewritten~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!Reader

Synopsis: you are Peter’s greatest love and Spiderman’s greatest enemy

Series Masterlist

Peter arrived at the Avengers tower with a little pep in his step. His new neighbor was on his mind and he couldn’t get her off. He knew it was a long shot, after all you’d only had one conversation, but he felt like there was a connection between you. You were awkward, he was awkward. What more does a relationship need?

Tony was quick to notice the change in Peters mood. A dreamy smile crept across his face every now and then while Tony was trying to explain something about his nanotechnology.

“Alright Underoos, whats on your mind? A girl? Boy? That gorgeous Aunt of yours? Oh wait no, that’s what’s on my mind.” Tony smirked, making a blush paint Peters cheeks.

“Nothing sir. Sorry, I’ll pay attention.” Peter answered quickly. Tony scanned Peter up and down skeptically.

“So its a girl. Alright. Who is she?” Tony asked, motioning for Peter to sit down with him.

“This girl moved in across the hall from me about a week ago. I’d see her on the stairs sometimes, or in the lobby. She’s beautiful, Mr. Stark. I mean, really beautiful. And I know girls are a lot more than their appearance, trust me, but I can never look away. It’s like God made a perfect batch of cookie dough, and then made a perfect cookie cutter, and then hand made her just for me. There’s just, there’s something about her. I feel like I’ve always known her, and I don’t even know her yet. She knocked on my door this morning and I nearly had a heart attack when I saw her through the peephole. I played dumb and acted like I didn’t know she lived across the hall.” Peter started to explain. A twinge of embarrassment struck him at the memory of what he said to you.

“Oh God. You said something stupid, didn’t you?” Tony inquired, noticing the look of embarrassment on Peters face as he recalled their conversation. Tony leaned on his hands like a child, this stuff exciting him more than anything.

“I insulted her dead father and called him smelly.” Peter admitted, and Tony laughed.

“But she found it funny and agreed with me.” Peter quickly followed up.

“Wow. Normally I’d say there’s no coming back from that, but she seems like a keeper. So, are you gonna throw on your Spidey suit and take her for a ride around the city? Works with all the ladies.” Tony wiggled eyebrows, but Peter shook his head.

“No. Spider-Man isn’t a party trick or some tactic to pick up girls. Plus, I want her to like me for me. That’s why I invited her over for dinner tonight.” Peter answered. Tony looked down at his hands, not wanting Peter to see how proud he was. He couldn’t let Peter get too cocky.

“That was a test and you passed.” To y quipped. “Alright, spider child, you have my blessing. But no funny business tonight. If I find out I’m gonna have to design nanotech baby clothes, I’m gonna be pissed.”

Peter blushed at the mere thought of what Tony was implying and spent the rest of his time at the tower going over missions to get you off his mind.

You arrived at Peters at 6:07. You were done getting ready at 5:45, and sat in the living room on your phone until you were slightly late. You didn’t want to be early, like some loser. Or even worse, on time. You had to be fashionably, but not rudely, late.

You knocked on Peters door at 6:07 and waited. The door swung open instantly, as if he’d be waiting right behind.

“I know what you’re thinking.” He stated. “I’ll let you decide if I was waiting at the door for you or if I’m just really fast. “

He had successfully broken the ice, and you gave kudos to him for trying.

You, on the other hand, were drawing a blank. You had no idea what to say and you were a reporter for crying out loud. You didn’t get tripped up on my words, but something about Peter Parker and that damn collared shirt rendered you unable to formulate a thought. All you could do was stand there and smile at him. You felt like you were standing weirdly and all the sudden had no idea where to put your hands. Do you leave them at your sides? That felt too stiff and soldier-like. But where else would they go? You were pretty sure every brain cell had left your body at that point, leaving you defenseless.

“You look nice.” Peter blurted, interrupting the awkward silence that had settled between you. Even he seemed surprised by his statement. You looked down and shrugged. You looked as nice as a lazy person who didn’t fully unpack their clothes could look. You had on a casual grey dress that was made of some sort of t-shirt material, and your hair was in a loose bun with a few curls framing your face. Peter took in your appearance with what looked like approval. Then you noticed Peters gaze falling to your feet.

“Converse with a dress.” He noted. “Bold move.”

You felt your personality re-enter your body, finally, and nodded.

“Oh yeah. You know me. Quirky and cool and not like other girls.” You joked as you clicked your heels together. “You look nice too. Very…Freddie Benson.”

Freddie Benson? Who the hell makes an ICarly reference to compliment someone? This night was going downhill fast and you regretted ever knocking on his door.

“Dude. You’re tanking.” Venom said in your ear, you had to agree. This couldn’t be going worse.

But lo and behold, Peters beautiful laugh filled your ears once again.

“That’s what I was going for!” He cheered. “My friend Ned always teases me for wearing sweaters and button downs but he just doesn’t have the vision.”

“Come in.” He suddenly stepped aside and gestured inward. “Dinners almost ready.”

Peters apartment looked just like yours, but much more homey. You saw his baby pictures on the wall, coupled with pictures of him and his parents through the years. You noticed a framed picture of a different couple on the coffee table. They resembled Peter but you didn’t see them in any photos with him past the age of around 7. There was a candle next to the frame, as well as a ceramic cross. You quickly looked away, not wanting to overstep.

“You must be Y/N. It’s very nice to meet you.” You heard a woman’s voice from behind you. You turned around and saw a woman in high pants and a yellow tank top, recognized her from the pictures with Peter.

“I am. It’s very nice to meet you too, Mrs. Parker.” You said politely and shook her hand.

“Please.” She shook your hand. “Call me May.”

“May.” You repeated with a smile.

You turned around and saw Peter pulling out a chair for you, so you sat down while May finished preparing dinner. You offered to help, being the polite ass bitch that you were, but May insisted that you were the guest. A plate of “meatloaf” was soon placed in front of you and Peter. The term “meatloaf” is used very loosely. It looked more like an old shriveled brain. Peter made eye contact with you and winked.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” He whispered. He glanced at May, who was busy pouring the drinks, before leaning in closer and whispering, “it’s way worse.”

You playfully kicked Peter under the table and he giggled, quickly masking the sound with a drink of water.

“So, Y/N, where do you go to school?” May started the conversation. You took a bite of meatloaf, nearly died, and swallowed before answering.

“I’m actually taking a gap year before I start my junior year at Berkeley.” You told her. “And I work part time as a reporter.”

“That’s a very good school.” She complimented. “And I thought you looked familiar. I’ve seen your show on YouTube.”

“I haven’t.” Peter realized. “What’s it called?”

“The L/n Report.” You answered. “I started it my freshman year and it just kinda took off.”

“Oh. I’ve read some of yoru articles, but I haven’t seen the show.” Peter realized. “I can’t believe you do that. That’s really cool. You’re really cool.”

“Thank you.” You winked at him, not used to being praised for your work.

“Peter told me about your father.” May changed the subject. “I’m so sorry to hear that he passed. He left the apartment to you?”

“He did.” You nodded. “And it’s all right. We were estranged anyway.”

“It must be so different living alone in a city.” May sighed. “Did you dorm while at Berkeley?”

“No, I lived with my boyfriend.” You shook your head. Peter began choking on his water at the mention of a boyfriend and May shot him a look.

“Peter. Manners.” She said sternly.

“Boyfriend?” Was all he managed to say between coughs and sputters.

Oh great. Time for this conversation.

“Ex-boyfriend.” You corrected. “I got him demoted to traffic duty for two weeks and he wasn’t too happy about it.”

“He broke up with you over that?” Peter raised an eyebrow. “That’s gotta be the dumbest reason for a breakup I’ve ever heard.”

“May I ask how you got him demoted?” May wondered.

“Well, I’m an investigative reporter, and my ex, Andy, is a cop.” You began. “I looked at some classified files on his computer and used them against someone.”

“Carlton Drake, right?” She realized the story sounded familiar. “I read about that. Your exposé about him was everywhere.”

“Didn’t he die in his own rocket?” Peter asked you, fully invested in the story.

“Yea. I was there. Me and…my friend.” You caught yourself before almost mentioning Venom.

“Gosh I read that story forever ago.” May recalled. “It was all over the news here. I remember Peter ranting to me that this girl was straight out of high school and already taking down shady guys in San Francisco. You were obsessed with the article, remember Peter? I’m pretty sure you hung it up.”

Peter, you guessed it, turned bright red.

“I just thought you were cool. You know, taking down bad guys and all at such a young age. It really inspired me.” Peter explained. He suddenly looked panicked, like he said too much, and you wondered what it inspired him to do.

“Thank you Peter.” You smiled fondly. “How old are you anyway?”

“19. I’ll be 20 on August 10th.” He said proudly. “What about you?”

“He’s legal.” Venom whispered in your ear. You couldn’t even be mad at her, you were thinking the same thing.

“I’m 20.” You told him, and smile crept across his face.

“And this boyfriend, where is he now?” May asked. May wasn’t blind to what was happening between her nephew and this new neighbor and knew that’s what Peter was dying to ask.

“I would very much also like to know that.” Peter said, almost robotically. He leaned in closer and stared at you while he awaited the answer.

“He’s engaged, actually.” You said between sips of water, making Peter sigh in relief. “To a friend of mine. They’re getting married this summer.”

It was the first time you said those words out loud. You didn’t feel sad, like you thought you would. You didn’t really know how you felt. The smile that broke out on Peters face gave a clear indication on how he felt, though.

“That’s great. I mean, not great great. Great for him, I mean. It’s always good to move on. Wether it be with an old friend or a brand new one. Maybe it’s with someone you just met. You never know. Things just happen between the most random of people. Could be a stranger. Or, or, hear me out, it could be less of a stranger. Like a barista, or a mailman or a…a neighbor.” Peter stumbled over his words, the last part coming out very quietly. “I’m sorry that things didn’t work out though. Between you and him, I mean. ”

“Thanks.” You shrugged. “It was tough at first but, I’m okay now. He wasn’t the one.”

“When you do find the one, you’ll know. I knew almost immediately that Ben was the one. I saw him and my heart said “that’s the one you’ve been looking for” and I believed it.” May sighed wistfully. You could see her eyes glistening behind her glasses and did something rather bold. You put your hand on top of hers and squeezed. She gave off this loving motherly vibe that you had only seen in movies but never felt for yourself. May gave you the warmest smile and squeezed your hand back.

“That’s lovely May. Although, I always thought when you met the one, your heart wouldn’t say that it’s been looking for that person. I always thought it would say ‘welcome home’, or something like that. You know? Like, you’ve always known them. I don’t know though. Maybe I’ve just seen The Princess Bride one too many times.” You shrugged.

“Ah. That’s a classic in this household.” May recalled. “Peter would refuse to go to bed without watching it.”

“Because it’s a cinematic masterpiece.” Peter sassed. “You’re trying to embarrass me by pointing out that even as a child I had impeccable taste? Oh please.”

You laughed at his remark, making May noticed the smile that broke out on Peters face when he succeeded in making their new neighbor laugh.

May looked at you for a while with a content smile on her face before saying, “Yeah. I suppose you do have good taste.”

[1kook]

commercial break; SEVEN

this is part of my netflix & chill series ! happens a few months before part 7 

summary; And lastly, Jungkook will bring it full circle by indulging you two in some good old fashion spooky sex where he nuts inside you because the only thing scarier than a scary movie is a pregnancy scare. It’s a perfect plan.  warnings; horny jk, jk wants to roleplay... everyone point n laugh, mentions of his impreg kink lol, making out, tits, honestly jk is just very horny n in love lol, jk in a vampire costume w fangs O_o rating; mature (18+) wc; 2k

notes; if u don’t know who lindsay is first of all ur sick, second of all here’s my queen’s top moments. also i just gotta say, this was originally gonna be a larger fic (a halloween special) for my ncouple, but i got a lil busy with school n ultimately didn't have time to invest in this as a whole installment so..... enjoy this commercial break instead!!

Jungkook loves Halloween.

He loves the pumpkin carving and the decorating. Loves the spooky music and the abundance of candy. He loves it, absolutely adores it, and for the second year in a row, he gets to spend it with you! Yet another person he loves very much.

He doesn’t remember ever being this excited for Halloween. Last year, you had roped him into going to some frat party with him, had egged him on, begged so cutely that it was your last year in college, baby until he caved. The two of you had spent the night drinking until you blacked out, Ubering home with your costumes half on, and then unceremoniously fucking in his living room with the blinds wide open.

(The next neighborhood meeting had been very awkward for Jungkook.)

It was his first time ever drinking with you like that, and he vaguely remembers, through his own drunken gaze, how cool you had been. Had absolutely owned a bunch of greasy football players at beer pong in your little sexy nurse costume. And when the crowd cheered your name, shrieked in awe, it had been him that you turned to for praise. “Did you see me, baby,” you had giggled, crowded him against the wall of this random house until Jungkook was sweating profusely. In lieu of a costume, he had worn a silly jogger set with a skeleton design that was supposed to glow in the dark, according to Amazon. You had told him he looked adorable, had kissed and squeezed his cheeks until Jungkook was a flustered mess.

It was still early into your relationship— if Jungkook did the math, you were only about five months in at that point —so he didn’t know how else to cope with the rapid thundering of his heart, the confession sitting on his tongue, the then scary L-word begging to be heard. So, he took you home and fucked you until your little nurse cap slid off your head and you were begging for him to let you cum, thus earning him his first ever offense for violating the neighborhood rules (i.e., traumatizing a group of middle schoolers by fucking in plain sight).

Long story short, Jungkook loves Halloween, and he loves it even more when he gets to spend it with you.

(He’ll never admit it, but he’s a hard romantic. He wants to do cheesy things with you, like cuddle you into his arms when you get scared, pat your head until you can look at whatever is happening on screen again. He wants you to feel safe in his arms, wants to be your refuge when things become too much. He likes to think he’s done a pretty good job so far.)

Jungkook’s plan goes like this:

First, welcome you with that Halloween basket you’ve been sending him tweet links about all month. The cute little Jack-O-lantern candy bucket stuffed with candy and hair ties and a soft Halloween themed blanket. It’s so cheesy, makes him blush when he catches sight of it in his closet, but Jungkook will do anything to please you.

Next, after presenting you with your Halloween gift and having you coo and tell him he’s a good boy, he’ll invite you to break your new soft blanket in. The living room will be prepared with an assortment of your favorite foods, the flat screen ready to play whatever horror movie the two of you settle on.

And lastly, Jungkook will bring it full circle by indulging you two in some good old fashion spooky sex where he nuts inside you because the only thing scarier than a scary movie is a pregnancy scare.

It’s a perfect plan.

It’s the best way to spend his favorite holiday, with his favorite girl by his side and some of his favorite horror films on the big screen. Jungkook spends all of October geeked up for it, even considers hanging up lights around the living room to really set the mood. He’s so excited, can’t wait to spend another wonderful holiday at home with you, that he doesn’t fully realize why you haven’t brought up the long awaited topic of costumes.

“You like?” you ask, standing at the door of his bathroom with a sultry look in your eye, tits practically pouring out of the tight top you’ve wiggled into, skin oiled up scandalously. He fumbles with the fake vampire fang prosthetics he’d been trying to glue in for the better half of an hour.

He had heard the door open downstairs when you got here, had called out his mandatory greeting as he heard you come up the stairs. But none of that had prepared him for the sight of you in… whatever this was.

Jungkook doesn’t really understand exactly what you’re supposed to be dressed up as until the two of you are back downstairs—blinds drawn, full moon slipping in through the cracks—with some random horror movie pulled up on the TV. “I’m Lindsey,” you whine, brand new fluffy blanket wrapped around your shoulders. It shields your boobs from view, but he’s not sure if that’s a win or a loss. “From Total Drama Island!”

He settles in beside you, doesn’t get too comfortable because it’s nearing sundown now and he knows the herds of children are bound to start flowing in. “Uh huh,” he says mindlessly. His collar feels itchy, the overly-detailed vampire costume he meticulously scoured the internet for being one size too small. You snuggle into his side anyway.

“You don’t know anything about cinematic masterpieces,” you frown, avidly tuned into The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning, because apparently you love horror movies all of a sudden, a fact that genuinely throws Jungkook off. He’s not sure what it is about you that had deluded him into thinking you would be a scaredy cat, but he doesn’t take the new bit of information too hard.

The doorbell rings right as the first gorey scene ends and you make a big show of huffing and whining as he rushes to answer it. But it’s only the beginning of the long night that awaits, and, as Jungkook comes to find, running back and forth from the door to the couch is harder than it seems.

Anyway, Jungkook’s neighborhood is a little posh, or ‘bougie’ as you like to claim, and trick-or-treating hours end a little before eleven pm. By then he’s tired, having refused your offer to switch places in fear that your boob might fall out of that scrap of fabric you call a top and earn him his second neighborly offense.

However, that doesn’t mean he’s opposed to your boobs falling out in private.

“Stupid,” you giggle when he gets caught in his long cape, the sound slowly melting into a whimper as he slips his hands beneath your top, fighting with the ridiculous push-up bra you’ve donned tonight. Hands tangle in his hair, mess up the careful side part he’d styled up for tonight, and legs lock around his waist. “Your curtains closed?” you tease.

He huffs, catches your chatty lips with his roughly, presses and presses until your mouth must bruise. He belatedly remembers about those sharp fangs he’d glued on—hey, if he was going to dress up as some gaudy monster it might as well be realistic—and doesn’t realize until he tries to bite your neck and you let out a little yelp. Truthfully, he feels bad right away, but then you’re practically dissolving in his arms so he plays along. “Shh,” he hisses.

The roar of a chainsaw and terrified screams fill the living room, almost drowning out the soft sounds you release by his ear. “O- Or what?” you pant, flinch when he pushes your sad excuse of a skirt up over your waist. “Gonna b- bite me?”

And so Jungkook does.

You shriek. “That hurts, you idiot!” you scold with a tiny whine in your voice, but Jungkook’s cock is so hard. Your tiny, tight outfit does you no favors. Tits in his face, tiny thong against his bulge. He wants to make you sob, litter bites and marks all over your skin until his love makes you ache. You must see the crazed look in his eyes, because you drop the scowl. “Hey,” you say slowly, hand on his chest. “You look like you’re gonna eat me.”

He lets go of a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. He wonders if you can feel his thundering heart beneath your palm. “Fuck,” he sighs, leaning away to regain his senses. Was it something in the air? Was it the fatigue? The full moon? Why did he want to fold you in half and fuck his cock into you until you were a crying, shivering mess? Something about you tonight, laid out for him to take, makes him feel absolutely insane. Starved and psycho; he just wants to take and take until you don’t have anything more to give. He purses his lips, tries to ignore the hot feeling in his lower abdomen when your hardened nipples register to his eyes. “I think I’m becoming evil.”

Of all the idiotic things his brain can come up with, this one is definitely top five. His cheeks flush right after, fueled by the boisterous laughter that escapes your lips at his statement. “Oh my god,” you gasp in glee, hands falling down beside your head. “You’re becoming evil?’

Jungkook frowns, flopping down on top of you to hide the embarrassment that paints his face. “Shut up,” he mumbles against your neck, warm and safe.

A hand cards through the back of his hair, nails dig lightly into his scalp. “Aren’t you the cutest little vampire,” you coo, seemingly ignoring the rock hard cock Jungkook presses against your thigh. He’s still so horny, has this sick thought that he could just pin you down right here, tear that silly costume to shreds and swallow you up in his lust. But your voice is so sweet, has his eyes fluttering shut as you gather him in his arms. “Silly vampire,” you hum, one leg thrown around his hip, a subtle roll of you hips up into him.

Jungkook huffs, licks a flat strip along the base of your neck. It draws a shaky exhale from you, has your hands digging into his back when he begins to slowly lap against the skin, nibble and tug until your back is deliciously arching up into him. “Wanna push you down,” he confesses quietly, hands securing themselves against your hips as he leans back. You're all dazed, eyes trained on his fanged mouth when he hesitantly adds, “l- little human.”

You could laugh, tease him for his sudden weird need to role play with you, but you don’t. A look of understanding crosses your face, sly smirk slowly following. “Oh?” you grin, hand coming around to cup his cheek. “The little vampire wants to use my body?” Jungkook tightens his jaw at your jab, but nods nonetheless.

You’re a feast before his eyes. Boobs in his face, pussy begging to be filled. You’re his, just like Jungkook is yours. And when you indulge him and his stupid whims—kinks, he should say, occasional interests that sometimes make him question himself—his heart feels warm and full. Proud and unashamed, like the truest version of himself when you look at him with those eyes. And your words only confirm it.

Your hands reach down for your top, pull the flimsy material over your head in one swoop that has your bra coming off with it. It drops to the floor. If it makes a sound, Jungkook doesn’t hear it over the shrieks of terror on screen. the blood deaths, the suspenseful music. All he hears is he hammering of his heart. 

It’s two of your sneaky fingers that come up to play, pinch one nipple tenderly as you meet his eyes. “It’s all yours,” you purr. “I’m all yours.”

And the thirst he feels, well. It’s a little vampiric, to say the least. 

—

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[multi--kpop--fanfics]

(Not) Such A Good Boy

sub!bf!Juyeon x dom!fem!reader (ft. Eric, Kevin and Hyunjae)

genre: smut, slight crack, a bit of fluff towards the end

contains: dom/sub themes, degradation, oral sex (f receiving), marking, biting, spanking, Juyeon is a brat on a choker and a leash, unprotected sex (be safe y’all)

Author’s note: This man right there has been wrecking my existence lately (I blame Kingdom) and this GIF screams sub!Juyeon so yeah, enjoy this filth

“Lee Juyeon, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me”, you scoff under your breath. You have been waiting for the past twenty minutes in the living room, outfit and makeup on point, since you were about to go clubbing with your group of friends. But apparently, your dear boyfriend had lost all sense of time, trying to get ready.

Visibly irritated, you storm to your shared bedroom, your heels angrily clicking on the wooden floor. “Juyeon, I swear to God-” you mutter and stop mid-sentence, only to see your boyfriend leaning on the door, fully dressed and a lop-sided smirk plastered on his handsome face. 

“You called, babe?”, he asks teasingly and before rolling your eyes, you give him an once-over, processing his choice of clothes - a pair of tight black leather pants that were hugging his muscular thighs deliciously, a pair of black combat boots, a cropped black sweater with holes around his clavicles and a black belt-like choker around his neck. He was the epitome of the emo bad boy that all parents hated and all girls craved. 

“Um, what is this?”, you question him with a pointing finger. "That, is my outfit for tonight", Juyeon states, the previous smirk still on his face, "What, you don't like it?". "Isn't it a bit unfair for me to wear not so revealing clothes all while you're dressed as an emo himbo?", you complain and he laughs, "An emo himbo? Wow, you're getting more creative with your descriptions, Y/N. You're right though, it's a sort of questionable outfit". You perk up at his response, hoping he'll change into something more colorful and less hole-adorned, only to be utterly disappointed, as Juyeon reached into the closet only to drape a black leather jacket on top of his broad shoulders. "Now we're good to go", he turns to you and winks with audacity. Brat, you scoff mentally and pick up the keys to unlock the door and finally leave your shared apartment.

"Finally! What the fuck took you so long?!", your friend Eric yells at you, trying to overcome the loud bass of the club speakers. "Your complaints to your friend over there, he was the one who took twenty minutes to get ready", you roll your eyes pointing to Juyeon, who was greeting Hyunjae and Kevin, your other friends. "Yooo, Juyeon, what's up with the collar, bro?", Eric amusingly points out. "It's a choker, you tasteless twat. But what would you know of fashion, since you only know how to wear t-shirts and ripped jeans?", Kevin comments and Juyeon mouths a 'thank you' to him. "Simple is the best, my dear friend. Besides, I've been getting all the girls, unlike you and your snake print jacket", Eric retaliates. "Excuse you, this jacket is a fashion statement!", Kevin bites back, feeling insulted. "Not gonna lie though, it does look like a collar. Will you put him on a leash too, Y/N?", Hyunjae comments in a snarky way, making Eric cringe in disgust. "Hyunjae, please go get some drinks, for God's sake", you reply with a dismissive manner. "Yes ma'am", he rolls his eyes and goes to the bartender.

You turn to Juyeon, who was extremely stiff after Hyunjae's comment. "You okay, baby?", you nudge him softly and he's brought back to reality. "Y-yeah, I'm fine, no worries", Juyeon replies, praying that the loud bass could cover his shaky voice. "Don't listen to Eric and Hyunjae, they have zero fashion sense, bro. I would wear that choker too, looks hella good on you", Kevin adds while pointing to the choker and Juyeon's smile is back on his face, "Thanks, bro, I really appreciate it", he replies with a chirpy tone.

The music suddenly changes into a slower jam and Juyeon smirks devilishly, as he winks at you and walks towards the dance floor. You watched as he starts swaying his hips and shoulders in the most smooth way possible, his half-lidded eyes never leaving yours. Eric and Kevin were whistling and cheering on Juyeon, all while Hyunjae was snorting at their antiques. You were simply lost in the image of your boyfriend dancing like there was no tomorrow. He wasn't just following the rhythm, he was riding it - and boy, was he good at doing so.

In fact, he was so good that he gained the attention of many people in the club. And you were lowkey proud, because that man was yours. However, a certain girl wasn't aware of that - hence why she approached Juyeon and started dancing with him. You were a bit jealous, not gonna lie, but the next moment made your blood fucking boil.

He had the fucking audacity to put his hands on her waist and dance with her - all while looking to you over her shoulder with the most smug expression on his face. That fucker, you mentally curse. This was definitely payback for everything you said before you left the house. You just knew it. You weren't even the jealous or possessive type of girlfriend to begin with.

But you'd be damned if you were to let a random bitch run her hands over your boyfriend.

Hyunjae catches up to your motions and he grabs you by your wrist. "Hyunjae, what the f-" "Shut up and listen to me. Going there and creating a scene will not end up well for you and you will give Juyeon exactly what he wants", he states and his words hit home faster that you expected. "Since when did you become so perceptive?", you raise an eyebrow and he chuckles, "I have my moments too, Y/N". "So, since your brain decided to actually function tonight, do you have any idea?" you ask in defeat and Hyunjae starts pulling you to the dance floor by your hand, leaving Eric and Kevin completely baffled. He then pulls you into his chest and leans in your ear to whisper

"Just dance, Y/N".

A Cheshire cat-like grin spreads on your lips, as you catch up to his ulterior motive and you start dancing with Hyunjae, hoping that Juyeon will notice the two of you. "Don't think too much about it, it will happen naturally", he adds, "You're too stiff, Y/N, just relax and enjoy dancing".

His words actually succeed in making you relax and you sway your hips more comfortably, actually enjoying the slow jams echoing through the club speakers. Under the dim lights, you lock eyes momentarily with Juyeon, who was licking his lips and his gaze was a mix of lust and death glares, the last one directed to Hyunjae. "Told you it would work", he comments, "You owe me this one". "Shut the fuck up, Hyunjae", you spit back and he laughs.

However, his laughter is cut short by a very jealous Juyeon, who has grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. "Next time I see you dance with Y/N, I'll break your fucking kneecaps", he growls and Hyunjae takes a step back, "She's all yours, bro", he raises his hands in defense and returns to the table. Juyeon then turns to you, his blood still boiling with jealousy, as you watch him with a proud smirk.

"You find this funny, huh? Dancing shamelessly with my friend?", he clenches his jaw. You then thread a finger through his choker and pull him close to your face, making Juyeon gasp. "Funny? No honey, I'm fucking fuming right now, because you decided to act like a brat and put your hands on the first bitch that threw herself on you", you retaliate, your chill facade slipping away. A sickly sweet smile adorns Juyeon's face as he watches every single movement of yours. He lowers his head, his lips hanging mere centimeters over yours and he slyly pokes out his tongue to lick your lips, hissing at the wet feeling.

"You're so fucking hot when you're mad, baby".

That was the last straw.

"Get your stuff, we're going home", you announce and he flashes a toothy grin. "Yes ma'am", he replies almost immediately and you return to your friends' table. "Guys, we'll be leaving now, hope you enjoy the rest of the night!" you announce and Eric looks between Juyeon and you. "Do I want to know what's going on?", he questions and Kevin pats him on the back while shaking his head as in 'no'. You both bid farewell to your friends and you walk out of the club, jogging towards your car. Juyeon whips out the cars keys and he opens the door for you, his gentleman-like gesture a complete contrast to his previous bratty behaviour.

The ride back home feels like it lasted for hours, when in reality, it lasted only ten minutes - maybe it's your sheer desire to fuck your handsome boyfriend to oblivion. By the time you entered your shared apartment, your lips were on Juyeon's neck, your hands roaming his toned body and his arms wrapped around your waist.

"You love acting like a bratty slut, don't you?", you sneer at him and he releases a breathy chuckle. "Yeah, and so do you", he whispers and he trails kisses upon your neck and behind your ear, nibbling your earlobe. "Are you going to punish me for being a bratty slut?".

You thought you came right there and then, 'cause fuck, he is so hot like this.

"Is that what you want? Fine then, you'll get the punishment you deserve, slut", you hiss while gripping Juyeon's jaw, your manicured nails raking his porcelain skin, "Don't say I didn't warn you", you whisper into his ear and he releases one of the lewdest sounds you've ever heard in your life. "God, you're a desperate little bitch, aren't you, Lee Juyeon?", you ask while removing the detachable strap of your bag and clasp it on his choker, creating a make-shift leash. "Only for you, baby", he replies with a sultry voice and half-lidded eyes.

You pull him by the make-shift leash, and you push him onto the couch, where you settle yourself on his lap, his hard cock straining his already tight pants. You remove his shirt, exposing his chiseled body. Wasting no time, you attack his collarbones with your lips, trailing red and purple blotches on his soft skin. You bite the juncture of his neck teasingly and he releases breathy moans, making you chuckle. You grind your clothed core on his bulge, and the sweet friction makes Juyeon mewl again. He tries to reach for your crotch with his hand, but you stop him by pulling the leash, making him gasp.

"No sweetheart, no touching tonight", you chastise him, as you pull back to remove your clothes and his pants, leaving the both of you only in your underwear. Juyeon's bulge is even more evident now, the thin material of his boxers having a wet spot, due to his cock leaking pre-cum. The sight in front of you makes your own wetness pool in your panties - your boyfriend on a leash, his perfectly styled hair now disheveled, his upper torso covered in love bites, his muscular thighs fully spread and his cock straining against his boxers.

"Baby, fuck, please do something", he pleads with bleary eyes. "Lie down for me", you order and he's laid flat on his back with one swift motion, his desperation showing. You remove your underwear and place your naked pussy right in front of his face. He reaches for your thighs with his arms, but you slap them away. "I said, no touching", you say sternly, "But-", "You should have thought twice before touching that bitch with your hands. Now, be a good boy and use your pretty mouth", you demand.

Juyeon pushes his wet tongue into your heat without second thought and he's lapping up your juices like a starved man. You can't help but moan with satisfaction, having him under your control like that gave you a huge adrenaline rush. You raked your nails from his torso to the hem of his boxers, the sensation making him moan and momentarily halt his actions. You slap his left thigh to alert him and his cock twitches, the vibrations of his moans coursing through your body as well. Juyeon now flattens his tongue against your folds with a faster tempo.

"You like it when I spank you, huh? Naughty boy", you smirk and land another slap, this time on his right thigh. Juyeon retaliates by sucking on your clit harshly, making you yelp from pleasure and you feel him smirk against your pussy. You find the leash and tug it, pulling Juyeon's face even closer to your core. "Behave, or you'll sleep without cumming tonight", you warn him and he whines, but resumes his efforts nonetheless. "Good boy, k-keep it u-up", you stutter as you feel your high approach with each passing second. His tongue is alternating between circling your clit and pumping in and out of your hole, the squelching sounds creating a pornographic scene.

You scream as you cum on Juyeon's face, your whole body shaking, as he helps you ride out your orgasm with kitten licks. You pull yourself together and turn around to face him, as he nastily licks his lips to taste your essence. "Sweet like fucking candy", he comments, "Want a taste, baby?". You pull him by the leash and crash your lips on his, tasting yourself, as your tongues dance crazily in a battle of dominance. "You're still acting like a brat, but since you did as I said, maybe you deserve to cum after all", you state and bend down to remove his boxers and free his painfully hard erection.

"Y/N, stop fucking teasing already!", Juyeon whines again and you slap his thigh again, "Where did your manners go, baby?".

"Please, Y/N..."

"Please what?"

"Please use my cock to cum"

"Fuck, such a good boy", you moan and spear yourself onto his hard cock, the sudden stretch tipping between pain and pleasure. You give yourself almost no time to adjust and you start riding Juyeon like a mad woman. He pistons his hips in unison, pounding into you with a speed neither of your brains are able to register. You put your hands on his broad chest for support and he holds your hips with his hands so tight you might get bruises the next day. Neither of you are able to contain your obscene moans nor form coherent sentences, way too lost in pleasure and lust.

"Fuck, Juyeon, you're such a good boy, so good for me", "Only for you Y/N, shit- only yours", he groans and his hips start to falter, signaling his upcoming orgasm. "I-I'm close again, nngh..", you mewl as you feel your insides clench around his cock like a vice. "M-Me too, Y/N please let me cum, let me f-fill you up baby", "Oh God, yes, fill me with your cum, babe", you moan loudly.

Juyeon moans with you as he stills himself, his cock twitching uncontrollably and flooding your cunt with his hot cum, painting your insides white. You collapse on top of him, panting heavily, the both of you sweating and spent, laughing breathlessly. You muster all the strength you have left in you to remove the choker from Juyeon's neck.

"Oof, thank you baby", he nods, rubbing his neck softly. You swipe a few dark strands of his forehead. You notice the marks on his neck the choker left and you can't help but feel a little regretful. "Did I hurt you?", you ask sheepishly and Juyeon smiles softly and presses a kiss on your nose. "No baby, you were perfect. We should do this more often, actually. You look hella sexy when you take control", he teases and you playfully smack his chest.

"So you intend to dance with random girls in clubs?", you ask and Juyeon smirks,

"No, but I intend to be not such a good boy for you".

[cursestothemoon]

I Won’t Say I’m In Love

iii.

Fred Weasley x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

Warnings: forced intimacy, suggestive themes, strong language, fighting (verbal and physical), Adrian being a sleazy jerk, Adrian speaking of nonconsensual acts (nothing graphic or intense)

Summary: Fred overhears Adrian and suddenly everything is different, now he needs to go talk to Y/n one last time.

Word Count: 4253

MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

Patroclus fought with the form and art of Achilles. He wore his helmet and bore his shield, he took long strides to embody the aura of the hero.

But Patroclus was not Achilles.

It was his hubris, his poisonous pride that drove the knife of the enemy through his gut.

And as Patroclus lay dying, his pride trickling out of his fatal wound, he thought of Achilles and he thought of love and war and hubris, and how it was a sick twist bestowed upon the mortals from the gods that all three would be intertwined with an unbreakable bind.

It was in a similar fashion to Patroclus that Fred now lay in the midst of a battlefield deserted, his pride slowly seeping out of his fatal wounds. Only Fred hadn’t been struck down by an enemy. No, Fred had attained his wounds from himself, his pride playing the parts of enemy, sword, and blood in his battle.

The fight was explosive, and Fred was feeling the aftershocks of it all as he remained where he had been for the last ten minutes. Ten minutes since she walked away from him. Ten minutes since he bared his teeth and snarled, a rabid dog taking over his judgment.

Regret is not a big enough word, not strong enough nor capable of expressing the sharp, shredding feeling that Fred felt inside. And as he took a step, the fight played out before him as a scene in front of a director, he had to stop himself from doubling over and being sick.

How could he?

Why would he?

Did he really have such little control that he seemingly blacked out completely and let his jealous rage take over?

With blinding speed Fred moved for the first time in now twenty minutes. He took quick steps toward the tree that he could still see her figure leaning against if he tried hard enough, and hit the bark with a hard punch. He wasn’t sure if the echoing crack was from the tree or his hand but nevertheless he reeled his fist back and layed another blow onto the innocent tree. Two became three, then four, then five soon enough every hit melded into one frenzy of rage and guilt and regret, leaving his knuckles torn, bloodied, and bruised while his chest began to heave.

Fred pulled his fist back again, but instead of a powerful blow it jutted with a stutter before he placed it on the bark to steady himself, his head falling forward making the roughness of the tree hit his forehead as he took in deep breaths. Shoulders slumped and eyes screwed shut, anger faded along with jealousy, leaving behind only his painful regret.

He gathered himself before trudging to meet George on the quidditch pitch, his sullen demeanor, unnaturally pale face, and lacerated knuckles letting the younger twin know that there was no confession of love or making amends between the two.

“Freddie…”

***

Y/n dried her tears and held her head up high as she walked back into the castle, Lily waiting for her by the entrance. She had seen the fight, Y/n knew it too, but neither of them mentioned it as they made their way deeper into the castle and to their dorm. They had made a plan to get butterbeers and Y/n would be damned if she let some fight with a boy get in the way of her enjoying her time with her best friend.

Quidditch practice, on the other hand, was disastrous.

Slytherin and Gryffindor had been scheduled to share the pitch for practice today, a plan made by the two heads of houses who didn’t want to deal with the captains fighting over the pitch again.

Tensions were high on the field as Adrian took it upon himself to make his presence known to Fred at any chance given. The aforementioned Gryffindor was quick to slug bludgers in his direction with a force fueled by hatred.

Angelina and Marcus called practice twenty minutes early, both of them having enough sense to know that someone was going to get hurt soon if the two boys weren’t separated- Marcus needed more persuading but begrudgingly agreed.

“Oi! Weasley!”

Both Fred and George turned to Angelina, the latter with a lighter energy.

“Fred, I don’t know what’s going on with you today but next practice I need your head in the game.”

Fred nodded passively before turning on his heels and walking to the locker rooms. George gave Angelina an apologetic shrug before following after his brother.

To get to the Gryffindor locker rooms it was necessary to pass by the Slytherin locker rooms, an unfortunate layout choice by whoever was responsible for the placement. Fred flexed his hand, fists opening and closing, as he walked past the open door. His eyes darkened with an emotion so strong it bled down to his reddening cheeks. George, the twin known for his more empathetic tendencies, could feel the anger sizzle in the air as Adrian’s voice sounded from inside the locker room.

“-you know I always get what I want in the end.” He chuckled, in conversation with someone.

Fred thought to keep walking, to ignore the conversation and move on from it all, even George was adamant on trying to nudge his brother to keep walking, but something kept him standing there with Fred, just hidden from the open doorway.

“Fred come on mate, it’s just going to rile you up.” George tried to reason with his twin in a harsh whisper.

The boy instead brought a finger up to his lips telling his brother to keep quiet as he tried to listen. This resulted in an eye roll from George, knowing there was no changing Fred’s mind once he was stuck on something.

“Is she any good?” The voice belonged to Marcus Flint.

In the locker room Adrian was leaning against his locker talking to Marcus about Y/n and how everything seemed to be falling into place for him.

Adrian gave a shrug as he thought about the question seriously for a moment before a grin split his face making Marcus chuckle.

“When she isn’t fighting it, yeah Y/n’s good. Ever since she had the falling out with the weasel she’s been a lot… easier to deal with.”

Marcus furrowed his brows, “How’d you mean?”

“Before she used to fight me. Push me away, get mad, yell. But after the whole thing with him she just doesn’t care to fight anymore. I should thank him, just today I had seen him walking in our direction so I made sure to give him a good show.”

“And you’re sure Weasley saw?”

Adrian nodded with a proud smile, “Oh yeah, he definitely saw us. They had a nasty fight too, I imagine it won’t be too long until I can get her alone so I can get her knickers off like old times. After that fight I doubt she’d have enough energy to really try to fight me off. I mean she can only say no so many times.”

Marcus had gone silent, offering his friend a curt nod trying not to show his discomfort for how far Adrian was willing to go.

Just on the other side of the entrance Fred was seeing red.

“I’ll kill him.” He seethed to an equally enraged George, who was glad he didn’t force Fred to leave.

With impeccable timing Adrian walked out of the door, now in front of the twins.

“Pucey.” George called, but Fred wasn’t one for words at the moment.

No, instead he took two long strides toward the sleazy Slytherin before throwing his fist into his face. The force caused Adrian to stumble back a few steps and fall into a kneeling position before he reached for his wand that had been placed in the waistband of his trousers. Fred was quicker, fortunately, and knocked it out of his hand.

“Come on, fight me like an honorable wizard, Weasley.” Adrian sneered getting up to his feet.

Fred, who had left his wand in his locker, shook his head, “Won’t be needing a wand to turn your face inside out, Pucey.”

That was the last statement before he lunged into Adrian a fight ensuing. George stood back cheering on his brother, who clearly had the advantage, only stopping to put a warning hand on Marcus Flint’s chest- he looked as though he was going to go to his friend's aid.

Fred was relentless with his hits, slugging him over and over again. He was blind with rage, arms detailed with ever present viens and the slightest of blood splatter from Adrian’s nose and mouth. The aforementioned boy was trying his best to block Fred’s painful jab’s to any point of his body that could be reached.

“Go.” George spat with venom in a slow drawl, his tone was intimidating. Intimidating and threatening enough to get Marcus to, reluctantly, walk away.

He was like a man possessed, the more Adrian bled the more he wanted to keep going. Fred was adamant on beating his anger into Adrian, his anger with the Slytherin and with himself.. It was happening right in front of him, Y/n was being used right in front of him and he couldn’t see it. He let his insecurities get the better of him and now he was rolling around in the mud with Adrian Pucey who had just landed a single punch to Fred’s jaw making it ache. His bruising jaw was the least of his worries however and grabbed Adrian by the collar of his shirt, lifting him a few inches off the ground before slamming him down again. He repeated this action until it seemed Adrian was slipping in and out of consciousness and his own nail beds were begging for respite from how tightly he was gripping the fabric.

Fred threw him down one last time before standing up over his bloodied body, George coming to his side and putting a hand on his shoulder.

“You did it, Fred. He’s learned his lesson.”

He got a nod in response and he dropped his hand slowly as his eyes shifted to the groaning boy on the floor. George would’ve joined in beating the boy to a pulp, he was itching to really, but he knew this was something Fred needed to do himself.

The older twin curled his lip in a snarl as he crouched down again, his elbows resting on his bent knees as he spoke.

“Talk like that, do those things again to anyone…” Fred brought a hand to grab Adrian’s jaw and turn his face as he gave his work an appraising once over. “And I’ll kill you.”

He gave his face a harsh shove in the opposite direction making the boy wince before he straightened up and started walking away from the scene, away from the locker rooms.

George furrowed his brow before calling out, “Where are you off to?”

“To find her.”

***

Y/n and Lily were on their way back from Hogsmeade, the thick sweetness of butterbeer still coating their tongues. The fight wasn’t mentioned, not without an attempt from Lily, but it was evident with the way Y/n shutdown, her words coming out jumbled, and fingers wringing together that she did not want to talk about it.

The walk back was filled with light conversation until Lily got annoyed with how her friend was behaving.

“You know your whole act is making me sick.” She stated, her tone neutral.

Y/n was taken aback for a moment trying to figure what happened, “Lil-”

“And when I’m not sick, I’m tired. I am sick and tired of this back and forth game. You didn’t want to talk earlier, that’s fine it was still fresh. But you can’t keep bottling it up like this, you’ll kill yourself.”

The only response she got was a sigh before Y/n started to talk just barely above a whisper.

“He’s just like everyone else, Lily. He believes everything people say about me.” She sniffled but continued to speak, “If I had known that Adrian would… do what he did, say what he did, I never would’ve lost my virginity to him but rumors start and I can’t stop that.”

Lily seemed to be in thought before speaking, “I’m sorry I didn’t notice earlier, didn't do anything. I won’t leave you alone with him, ever, I promise.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was quiet and barely heard above the crunch of gravel under their feet.

“And Fred? How do you feel about him?”

Y/n shrugged, collecting herself before she spoke, “It’s over. I’ll get over it. You’d think a person’s feelings would fade after such a...conversation.”

Her friend nodded, “You still love him.”

It wasn’t a question, Lily didn’t ask, she told her. Stated it as common knowledge and Y/n was tired of denying her feelings. Tired of pretending not to care and tired of holding so much in.

“Why?” Her voice was broken as she asked Lily with a hopeless voice, tears starting to freely fall down her face.

“Oh, Y/n…”

The Slytherin embraced her crying friend, more than willing to offer her much needed comfort. She knew it was difficult for Y/n to be this open with her feelings, her tears dampening the crook of Lily’s neck was not a familiar feeling.

“It hurts. I don’t want to have these feelings anymore.”

Lily felt her own eyes well with tears, “Maybe your heart knows something you don't, that’s why it won’t let you let go.”

“Well I wish it would stop hiding things from me.” Y/n laughed as she pulled away from the hug, wiping her face.

The girl agreed with a soft giggle before linking their arms and continuing their walk back to the castle, a comfortable silence falling over them.

Fred was pacing the main entrance of the castle, just in front of the Great Hall, no doubt leaving dirty footprints on the otherwise clean stone floor. He was still in his quidditch uniform, hair tousled from the wind, fists bloody, and dirt from rolling around on the ground was up to his mid thigh.

The echo of footsteps made his head snap up, his breath hitched as he saw Y/n and Lily walking back into the castle together. The dried tears and puffy eyes made his heart ache, regret and sadness flooding all of his senses.

It was knowing that he messed up.

He did this.

It was no one's fault but his, and the real kicker was that even if he apologized, got down on his knees pleading and crying, she had every right to walk away.

She didn’t have to forgive him, he didn’t deserve it and Fred knew that, and accepting that was what allowed him to finally push his pride aside.

“Why do you look like that?” Lily’s voice rang through the entrance, her face scrunched in disgust at Fred’s less then put together appearance.

He couldn’t care less about her question, his eyes were trained on the way Y/n’s breath skipped and she seemed nervous, almost… scared to be near him again.

“Y/n…”

Lily looked between the two, each holding a lovesick gaze polluted with sadness that made her, quite honestly, uncomfortable, but she was able to gage the situation and spoke up, “I’ll leave you to it, then. Need something, I’ll be in our common room.”

Y/n nodded, giving her friend a nervous smile as she left, then looking back at the roughed up ginger standing before her.

“Fred.”

Her tone was stoic and he hated it.

Fred didn’t know where to start.

“I-” The words got lost in his mouth as she looked at him expectantly.

Y/n shook her head, going to walk in the same direction Lily went, “Look, if you’re just going to continue calling me names I’m going to leave.”

“I’m sorry.” His words came out rushed and near a shout as he took a step forward trying to reach out to her, to stop her from leaving.

He watched as the girl seemed to mull things over before giving him a curt nod, “Yeah, it’s fine. What’s done is done.”

She ended the sentence with a new found attitude, he had chosen to act the way he did, now he had to deal with it.

With a sudden surge of passion Fred nearly growled out, “No.”

“No?”

“No. It’s not done. It’s not over. I was stupid and rude an-and a disrespectful git. I want to apologize for the nasty things I said, you didn’t deserve that, not at all.” Fred fought.

Y/n nodded, “You’re right. I didn’t, so why say it?”

Fred let out a breath as he stepped closer to her, eyes burning with an emotion Y/n had never seen before.

“Because I was jealous, insecure, and stupid. I thought you were going with him… and I knew I’d never be able to compete with that but I- Y/n, I-” He grew frustrated as he tried to find the right way to finally confess his feelings.

Y/n felt her tears build again as she frantically shook her head, taking backward steps away from the wired boy.

“Don’t. Don’t say-don’t do this Fred.”

“I’m- I love you. I’m in love with-”

“No. Don’t say that!” Heavy tears were now rolling down her face as she tried to shy away from Fred who was taking cautious steps toward her.

“Why not? Why can’t I tell you that I am in love with you, Y/n.”He questioned carefully.

She looked up at him with one of the saddest expressions he’d ever seen on a single person, “Because how am I ever meant to stop loving you when you’re saying things like this? How am I supposed to move on and get over you when you’re saying that you’re in love with me. You’re being mean Fred, just let me get over you.”

It was Fred’s turn to shake his head, “I’ll tell you every minute of every day if I had to, I love you Y/n. I love you, I love you, I love you.” The words fell so easily from his lips now, like a sacred mantra.

This only seemed to make her cry harder as she hugged herself with her arms, the sight made Fred want nothing more than to rush over to her, pull her into his embrace and wipe away each tear but he knew he had to tread lightly.

“Stop! Adrian, he’ll-”

Y/n watched Fred clench his fists, now noticing how swollen and wounded they looked.

“You don’t want to know what I overheard him saying, the things he wanted to do, the things he’s done!” Fred exclaimed, his temper making his voice rise.

At Fred’s words Y/n hung her head low, more silent tears falling down her nose. She didn’t know what to say.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice softened as he stepped closer to her, the closest he’s gotten so far.

The comment made a sudden rush of an emotion- one Y/n couldn’t name at the moment- rush through her. Her eyes snapped up to Fred’s soft ones, an index finger pointing at him weakly.

“You were supposed to know, just like you’re supposed to know that I’ve been in love with you. ” She cried, knowing her logic was flawed but making no effort to stop arguing.

“If you didn’t tell me, how…” His voice was soft, the same tone one would use talking to a wounded animal or crying child.

Fred reached a hand out toward her, letting her make the decision of whether or not he could touch her just yet. The act made her let out a humorless chuckle.

“The same way you know everything!” She shouted. “The same way you know that I get uncomfortable when people touch me, the same way you know my favorite color, or how you knew that no matter how annoying you were I’d still wait for you in the mornings before breakfast so we could walk together. You were just supposed to know.” Her voice faded into a sad whimper as she looked at him.

Streaks of freshly fallen tears now lined Fred’s face as he listened to the girl, his girl. With a featherlight touch he placed his hand on her cheek, holding her face and gently coaxing it to angle up so she’d look at him.

“You’re right, I should’ve known.” Y/n nodded at his words before crashing into his chest, holding onto his jersey as she wept into his chest.

Fred held her body to his, using his right hand to caress the back of her head in an effort to calm her before going to hold her face just under the junction of her neck and jaw, his left hand wrapped around her waist holding her flush against himself.

“I should’ve known.” He muttered again, leaning down to place a loving kiss on the crown of her head.

They stood like that for who-knows how long, only the sound of Y/n’s soft sniffles being heard. It was lucky that dinner was still two or three hours away and most students didn’t come back from the Hogsmeade trip until they absolutely had to- which was twenty minutes before dinner.

Still, Fred knew they were lucky to not have any first years walking in on the emotional scene but he didn’t want to push that luck... he also didn’t want to move just yet.

“Freddie…” The soft tone made him absentmindedly run his thumb across her jaw.

“Yeah, Poppet?” His voice was hoarse, quiet and had a touch of sensitivity that made Y/n want to nuzzle into his chest but she stopped herself.

She swallowed before asking, “Did you mean it?”

Fred furrowed his brow, “What, love?”

“When you said you loved me.”

He let out a chuckle as he leaned back to look into her eyes, both of his hands going to cup her face as he spoke to her with a loving smile.

“I said it about seven times and you’re asking if I meant it? Unbelievable woman you are.”

Y/n laughed at his response, averting her eyes suddenly bashful under the intense emotion seemingly flowing through his eyes. Fred put a finger under her chin to tilt her head back up so he could look at her again, this time more serious.

“I am really sorry, Y/n. I shouldn’t have said those things, I hate myself for-”

He was cut off by the inexplicable feeling of having her be the one to now hold his face gently in her hands, as if he was delicate, important, she held him in a way he didn’t think he deserved to be held, not after all the things he’s said to her.

She searched his eyes for a deceitful haze, or glimmer of dishonesty and found nothing. Nothing except for worry, regret, and intoxicating love.

“It’s done, Freddie. It’s over. No use in worrying over it now that we can't change it.”

He gave a look of concern, “But-”

“I forgive you. I said some pretty nasty things too, let’s learn from it and move on.”

Fred’s eyes saddened and she felt herself involuntarily pout at his doe eyes.

“Move on, meaning…”

“I want you to kiss me, Fred.” She stated strongly with unwavering eye contact.

He leaned in slowly, on hand slipping to the back of her head as his fingers combed through her hair. Just before fully placing his lips onto hers, he angled his head up and placed a soft kiss onto the tip of her nose, he moved to the right corner of her mouth then the left placing sweet kisses. Fred looked into her eyes, silently asking if this was what she wanted. When she gave no sign of discomfort or hesitation he closed the gap between them. His kiss was passionate and slow, he wanted to feel her lips, the soft skin, every ridge he committed to memory.

Y/n felt herself get lost in the kiss, her eyelids had fluttered shut and hands coming up to hold both sides of his neck. She let out a whimper as Fred’s tongue found its way into her mouth, there was no fighting for dominance- Fred just wanted to feel her. Y/n found her way to the roots of his hair, giving them a tug making him groan into the kiss. He went to pull away, but she bit his lip carefully before letting it go watching as it jutted back to place.

She rested her forehead against his- given he was bent over significantly to reach her- and Fred could’ve sworn he’d never seen anything, or anyone, so beautiful. With swollen lips, flushed skin, a heaving chest, and eyes looking up at him through a thick set of lashes with a facade of innocence that made his knees weak.

Both of them grinned at each other, Y/n’s thumbs running back and forth over the soft skin of Fred’s long neck whilst he traced the outline of her cheekbones with his.

“I-I, uh…” Fred shut his eyes momentarily as he laughed at his attempts to find the right words.

Y/n smirked up at him before teasing.

“Are you always this articulate?”

Taglist:

italicized are blogs I wasn’t able to tag

@crazylokonugget​ @alluringshawn​ @meph1stophelian​ @lol-idk-oops​ @slytherclaw1996 @anywherebuthere​​ @freddieweasleyswife​​ @honey-honey-5644 @cookiecakeslive​ @lexymoniqu​ @siriusement​ @gloryekaterina​ @cyberangelpeach​ @lucymfer​ @freds-slut​ @s1ut4georgeweasley​@amourtentiaa  @wolfiepirate 

[edwin-payne-enthusiast]

Okay gimme a like, either enemies to lovers or like a great underused logince au/trope

All The Life That I Can Offer

Ship: Logince

Summary: Logan was one of the city's most famous vigilantes; independent, skilled, and resourceful, he rarely ever got caught, until one night he found himself caught off guard and behind the bars of a holding cell. All he had was a single phone call, and a man who owed him a single favour.

Word count: 3328

Warnings: Mentions of police, fire, choking, smoke, assassination, death. Tell me if I missed anything!

Note: I can't tell if I strayed too far from the request or not but I hope you like it either way!! <3

(I'm still taking logince requests if anyone else wants to leave me one!)

Logan liked being a villain… most of the time. Don’t get him wrong, there are downsides for sure, but when you can command fear by simply walking into a room and snapping your fingers life seemed to just fall into place, or at least it usually did. At first, Logan didn’t like to call himself a villain, though menace to society felt a bit long and unprofessional, and vigilante never seemed to catch on like he thought it would, so he settled for villain, though it never felt right to him. Logan was there to help, he fought for the little things that eventually would spin out into bigger things, because no one knew how to manage a breaking system once a part of it was broken off. If anyone were to look past that villainous alter ego that society had painted for him, they’d see he fought for good rather than bad. They’d see that the people he was hurting had hurt more people than anyone could dream of, so much so that they were barely people any more. He didn’t hurt civilians, he didn’t hurt them even though the blame always seems to stick to the people walking down the streets rather than the ones sitting at the top of their multimillion dollar office buildings, able to hurt thousands with the press of a button or the click of a keyboard, or the dialling of ten simple digits, a phone number belonging to just the right person. A single phone call could change lives.

And a single phone call was all Logan was offered in the holding cell he found himself in, the statement being made by some uptight cop, drawling out each word with a fake menace. It was clear to Logan that the officer was trying to make himself seem scary and failing miserably. The shake of his hands and the sweat beading on his pale face was enough to tell the villain that this man was afraid of him. Even here, behind bars and completely unarmed, he commanded some sort of fear. The thought almost made him smile.

“The call’s gonna be monitored and timed alright punk? So you can’t try anything.” The officers words held no proper heat, like his brain wanted to spit venom but his common sense was holding him back by his pathetic blue collar “You’re gonna be held here until further notice-“

“Until I’m bailed out” Logan corrected simply.

“Oh yeah? And who’s gonna do that? Everyone knows you aint got no crew” The officer spat.

Logan shrugged in an unbothered fashion and the officer turned away, muttering obscenities under his breath as he walked out of the holding cell room. The villain was pretty sure that the officer failed to disclose the rest of his rights, but that was fine, he knew them off by heart. This wasn’t the first time he had found himself on the wrong side of the law, though he rarely ever got properly caught, and even if he did, he usually had a pretty solid escape plan on hand. But right now Logan had nothing, well, not nothing; he had a phone call. One, five minute phone call. He really was in a tricky situation huh…

He could call Virgil or Janus. He was the face of the crimes, but those two made up the brilliant minds that worked behind the scenes. They would know what to do, they would have the resources to help him out, but they were in London at a conference on his behalf, it would take too long for them to get back into New York in time to get him out of here.

He could call his brother, even though Thomas barely approved of his life of villainy as it is. Of course he came around eventually after he found out, mostly because he could see what Logan was doing was technically morally right, even though he didn’t like the way he went about it. But he was already so stressed with everything going on right now with his job and this new guy he was seeing, Logan didn’t want to add more stress on top of that, and besides, he had a strict no family involvement within his job, no matter what the situation calls for. Thomas had better things to do, and surely Logan had other options.

He could call… no, he couldn’t call him. God no, what was he thinking? That dazzling smile and those deep brown eyes had made their way into Logan’s mind plenty of times before, but he always knew how to ignore it, after all they were against each other.

After all, Roman was a hero, and, however indirectly, the reason he was here tonight.

It was Roman’s crew who managed to track Logan’s laptop back to his apartment, he had just moved in, he hated the idea of having to move again now, it was such a hassle, especially with the whole fake identity thing and all the boxes and packing. It was Roman’s crew who ambushed him in the middle of the night. He wasn’t even caught in the act! He was watching a nature documentary for goodness sake! It was Roman’s crew who put up a spectacular fight, he was pretty sure he would have a good few bruises show up in the next few hours. He would have beaten them though, if it wasn’t for a neighbour overhearing the struggle and calling the police.

Roman wasn’t there, he had no idea if he even knew about what his crew was up to tonight, but Logan was owed a favour from him, he hadn’t forgotten, he had burned it into the back of his brain that night all those years ago, and he might just cash in that favour tonight.

Logan cleared his throat. It took a few tries to get the officers attention though, he figured he was purposefully ignoring him to get a rise out of him, honestly Logan could not care less. When the officer finally begrudgingly walked over Logan addressed him “I would like my phone call now” he stated simply.

The officer scoffed and murmured something under his breath that Logan didn’t quite catch. Even so he walked over to the desk in the corner of the holding room and grabbed an old cell phone out of the drawer. He passed it through to Logan and leaned against the desk, listening in to monitor the conversation “You’ve got five minutes, make it quick”

Logan fought the urge to roll his eyes before dialling the numbers that took a bit of remembering to recall, he had hacked them out of a network system quite a long time ago after all. He had to get this right; he pressed the call button.

The line rang once, then twice, then three times. He doubted the officer would allow him to dial again if no one answered. He held his breath; the line rang four times, then five-

“Hello?” The voice that finally answered sounded groggy, coming from someone who had been woken up by their ringtone. Logan hadn’t even noticed how late it was, he cast a glance over to a faded digital clock on the wall, it read 2:09 AM. Logan winced.

“Hello Roman. I do apologize for waking you at this hour” Logan replied sincerely.

Roman’s voice seemed to carry a bit more energy when he next spoke, knowing that this was an old acquaintance, rather than someone he barely knew calling to bother him about something he barely cared about “Well well well” Logan could practically here Roman grinning on the other end of the line “If it isn’t the old trouble maker himself, you miss me already? We only fought like, last week-“

“I need a favour” Logan responded quickly, not having time for Roman’s antics “Your crew picked me up tonight and I’m stuck in a holding cell with no one else to get me out” He spoke quietly, the officer was on the other side of the room and the traffic coming from outside was loud, but he couldn’t risk being overheard.

Roman went quiet for a moment “A favour huh” Logan knew he remembered what he owed, it was the reason no one ever really walked away a winner from their fights. Roman couldn’t hurt Logan, and Logan wouldn’t hurt anyone if he didn’t have to. “I’ll be there in ten. Don’t move and don’t cause any more trouble while you’re at it” the line went dead and Logan slid the phone back through the bars of his holding cell. Ignoring the officer’s questioning about who he was talking to and what he was going to do from here.

Eventually, the officer got tired of his silence and left the room, taking the battered old cell phone with him.

As much as he knew Roman would deny it, he would probably feel guilty for letting his crew ambush Logan like they did. They didn’t know the unspoken agreement the two of them had, they didn’t know what Logan had done for Roman all those years ago.

Logan could have left him for dead. He knew that, even in that moment, fire blazing around them from a plan gone wrong, though it still wasn’t clear who’s plan it really was. He could have left Roman in that building, he could have walked away and taken the city right then and there, no hero left to stop him.

Logan saved Roman’s life that night. He still remembered the way the smoke curled around his lungs as he fought his way back into the building, back towards Roman. He could still recall that stunned look on Roman’s face as he lifted him out of the debris, pulling him forwards and out of the fiery wreckage. He still remembered how he felt, frantically dialling emergency services, and practically shouting in the phone for an ambulance, while Roman struggled to breathe and move. He could still picture the nights, suspended by a rope outside Roman’s hospital window, watching him sleep from outside as he knew he wouldn’t be allowed in, but he just needed to see him breathe, he needed to know he was alive.

Weeks later, when Roman finally recovered, he tracked down his previous address – Logan had since moved, can’t have a hero knowing where you live after all – and visited him. He breathlessly thanked him, asking what he could do, whatever he could to do repay him. Logan just shook his head, insisting that he was owed nothing, but Roman went on to insist that he owed him more, he owed him his life. They compromised on Roman owing him nothing but a simple favour, and then he left. Logan hadn’t really spoken to the hero before then, and Roman had never seen that side of the villain, but both knew that no matter the situation, from then on it would be impossible for the two to hurt each other, there was too much history now, too much left unsaid.

Logan had hacked government systems, assassinated corrupt political leaders, pulled intricate threads to unravel whatever part of society he had chosen, but for some reason, somehow, in that one particular moment, nothing meant more to him than the safety of his enemy, or rather, the person who was supposed to be his enemy.

Logan looked up at the empty space between the holding cell and the wall, sensing someone’s presence. In a small flash of light, a person materialised in front of the cell. He had always admired Roman’s knack for manipulating technology. People often doubted whether he came up with it himself, but Roman was the smartest person in his little team, and he was more intelligent that he seemed, even if he was so very dumb most of the time.

Roman stored the little device away in his pocket and fumbled for a lock pick, turning to the lock on the cell door “I bet you’re glad to see me” he looked up at Logan with a smirk and started to pick the lock with a practiced ease.

“In your dreams” Logan responded, watching as Roman’s hands skilfully turned the lock pick until the lock clicked open. Roman opened the cell door slowly, wincing at each creak. Logan was able to slip through after a moment and Roman smiled at him, closing the door, and replacing the lock, making it look as if Logan had just disappeared.

Roman took the device back out of his pocket and Logan watched his hands, avoiding looking in his eyes right now. The silence was too loud and he needed some fresh air to set his head straight. Roman turned a dial on the device and both of their bodies faded slightly “This decreases visibility” Roman explained, still fiddling with the little machine “It’s handy, but doesn’t last long, we better get out of here” Logan knew full well that Roman could just walk out of here with him, but he had a reputation after all.

Logan nodded taking a moment to observe his faded appearance “Alright then… let’s get going”

Roman nodded as well and stopped fiddling with the device, he held it in his left hand and held the door of the room open with his right “After you” he said, Logan couldn’t discern his tone.

Logan left the room first, looking around at the hallway cautiously, just in case he had fallen for some kind of trap. But of course, it wouldn’t make sense for Roman to lead him into a trap right now, and he knew that the deal meant too much to Roman for him to do something like that anyways, so he walked down that hallway in front of Roman, a million thoughts swirling through his mind, none of them able to make it past his lips.

He silently lead them through another hallway, past offices, and rooms full of cops. If he had more time here he’d probably find a way into the system and break this place down from the inside, but there was more on his mind that just that, and he doubted Roman would let that slide, deal or no deal.

Once they had snuck past the officers and handful of civilians in the lobby, only stopping as Roman nearly bumped into a sergeant on his way out, he lead them through the door to the building and out onto the street. The device flickered off and the two of them came back into view as the door shut behind them, and after a quick shared glance, the two of them broke into a run down the street.

No one was chasing them, but the adrenaline was too great, Roman was laughing and Logan had a huge grin on his face, he barely even noticed that Roman was holding his hand to pull him along with him.

When they were far away enough from the station, and that initial excitement of a successful plan had faded into a happy buzz, and their lungs burned from running so fast for so long, and their laughter came out in short puffs of air, they began to just walk in silence, still hand in hand, drinking in the night and the others presence.

Hours could have passed by, that moment stretching on for the duration of them. Neither man wanted to speak up and break the peace they had created together, neither of them pointed out the time, or their closeness, or the bite of the cold night air. Neither man wanted to create an excuse to leave.

The pressure must have gotten too great at some point, as it was Roman who finally spoke up “Why did you do it?” he said quietly, as if Logan might not hear him and they could continue on in this moment.

Logan didn’t look over at Roman, but he knew what the look on his face would be. He knew what he was asking him “I don’t know” he responding, his voice coming out more as a breath of air than words. He knew his answer wasn’t good enough, he knew if he didn’t say more he would regret it. God Logan hated regretting things “But I do know I couldn’t have just left you there to die. I would have hated myself for it. You’re too… you’re just so good” Logan took a breath “The world needs more people like you”

Roman laughed, but there was no humour behind it, Logan could almost feel the hurt in his voice “It’s haunted me for so long you know, what you did, how you saved me. I never knew why you let me live after all I had done was take apart your plans for so long” Roman exhaled shakily “And then you go on to tell me that I don’t owe you anything more than a favour? I don’t… I don’t get it” he said, pulling his hand away as he stopped walking, facing away from Logan to try and pull himself together. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“I’m not a monster Roman. We both fight for what we believe to be true. Just because we have our disagreements from time to time does not mean I wish you to be dead. The people need you just as they need me, they only see us in different lights” Logan responded, facing Roman now. Roman turned back to look at him, his eyes were red with tears.

“And what if I told you that I love you? Then would you wish me dead?” Roman’s tone held a kind of anger he had never heard before, but it wasn’t threatening, it was sad, like he finally gave in to the words he had so desperately wanted to say for so long.

Logan paused and shook his head, Roman’s words cut through the night air like a sharp knife but did nothing to wound him “I would wish you all the life that I can offer, so that I may spend it with you” he responded quietly, almost a whisper.

Roman blinked. He took a deep breath, and then another, trying to pull himself together. Of course he failed, letting out a relieved sob. It was unclear who fell into whose arms, but they pulled themselves together for a desperate embrace either way. Logan fit into Roman’s arms so neatly, he didn’t even care if Roman’s tears left damp spots on his shirt, it was perfect in its own imperfect way.

“I’ve loved you since the moment you stupidly ran back to save me” Roman said between his sniffling and Logan laughed softly, trying and failing to supress his own tears. “I sometimes wished you would cause more trouble just so I had an excuse to see you”

Logan smiled ever so slightly, ignoring the way his tears slipped down his face, simply because he didn’t care that he felt like this, it was the nicest he had felt in a long time “I don’t know how long I have felt this way for you, at first I thought I only cared for you because I don’t want to hurt those who are innocent, but it became more than that. I wanted to be there for you for the little things. I wanted to spend time with you in the mornings and the evenings, and comfort you when you watched a particularly sad episode of whatever show you’re watching, and laugh with you when one of us tells a bad joke or messes something up” Roman laughed shakily and nodded, bumping his forehead against Logan’s gently “I wanted to be a part of your life… I want to be a part of your life”

“Oh darling” Roman said, brushing a piece of hair out of Logan’s eyes and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead “You always have been”