#this is the same pattern on three different shirts ->

[dribs-and-drabbles]

The Thai Communal Wardrobe item #8

The Thai 🤝🏽 Taiwanese Communal Wardrobe Item #5

Our skyy 2 x The Eclipse ep 6:

Step by Step ep 7:

Dangerous Romance ep 10:

Only Friends ep 12:

Wandee Goodday ep 4:

Wandee Goodday ep 4:

Knock Knock, Boys! ep 11:

The On1y One ep 6:

Sunset x Vibes special ep:

Peaceful Property ep 9:

Sangmin Dinneaw ep 2:

Sangmin Dinneaw ep 7:

Exclusive Love ep 1:

Sweet Tooth Good Dentist ep 8:

for @akkrosu and @lurkingshan 💙

[xabi0407]

everlasting trio redesign

check out my commissions

[bomberqueen17]

How To Shop For Fabric Online

RIP Joann's. Now many places in the US no longer have a local fabric store, such as it even was toward the end.

There are some good posts going around about where to shop for fabric and craft supplies online, like this one for example. But if you're a beginner-to-intermediate sewist, and the way you've always shopped for fabric is by going to the store and touching it, it can be a hard, even cruel adjustment to suddenly be looking at a photo online and trying to piece together from the inconsistent descriptions what you're actually looking at.

So I'm going to just try to bang together a little primer on What Things Are Called, and how to educate yourself, so that you don't have to do what I did and just buy a ton of inappropriate stuff you wound up not being able to use for what you'd thought. And I will link to some resources that will help with this. This will be garment-sewing-centric but will, I think, be fairly broadly applicable.

The first thing is to look carefully at your desired project. If it is a commercial pattern, it will usually tell you what kind of fabric you need, but it will describe it in not the same words it's often sold under. If it is NOT a commercial pattern and you're kind of winging it, it's even harder. So here is how to start figuring out what you need.

Number one: Knit or Woven?

Quilting fabric is woven. If you are making a quilt, you want a woven. Most craft projects are made with woven fabric-- tote bags, upholstery, you name it.

Many garments are knits. T-shirts, yoga pants, cardigans. It is easy to know, because knits stretch. They can either stretch both ways (along the length and along the width) or just one way (usually along the width); this is confusingly either called 2-way stretch or 4-way stretch. Yes, stores are inconsistent. Look carefully at the description, and they will usually specify-- "along the grain" or "in all directions". Some garments require stretch only around the body-- maxi skirts, knit dresses etc-- while some absolutely need stretch both ways, like bathing suits.

No, you absolutely cannot clone your favorite knit t-shirt in quilting cotton. It will not fit. Most knit garments have "negative ease", meaning they are smaller than your body and stretch to fit. All woven garments have "positive ease", meaning they are larger than your body, unless very firm shaping undergarments are used.

SMALL EXCEPTION: There exist "stretch wovens", which are woven fabrics made with elastic fibers. These will be labeled as such. They are actually harder to sew with than regular wovens because they almost never have their stretch percentage labeled; they are NOT suitable for knit patterns. Avoid them, until you are more advanced and know how to accomodate them, is my advice!

Number two: WEIGHT.

How heavy is the fabric? How thick? How thin? This is measured in two main ways-- ounces per yard (denim is often 8oz, 10 oz, 12 oz) or grams per square meter. But many fabric retailers do not tell you a weight, they use words like "bottomweight" or "dress-weight", and you have to learn to figure out what they mean by that.

My lifehack for learning these has been go to go to ready-to-wear clothing retailers and see if they give the weights of the fabric their garments are made from. (Yes, I learned how to shop for clothes online instead of in-store years ago, because I am fat; some of us have had to do this a long time.)

If you are making a pair of trousers, you need heavier fabric than if you are making a blouse. Do not buy a floaty translucent chiffon to make your work trousers, it will not work no matter how cute the color is. Learn how the different weights of fabric are described, and you will improve your odds of finding what you need.

Number three: DRAPE.

Is it stiff? Is it fluid? Is it soft? is it firm? There are a lot of very artsy words used for this, and you may find yourself puzzling over things with a fluid hand, or a dry, crisp hand, or "a lot of drape", or maybe the listing doesn't describe it at all. This segues neatly into another technical thing, which is the WEAVE of the fabric. There is a dizzying array of words that tell you what kind of fabric it is-- twill, tabby, challis, chiffon, crepe, organza, georgette. And these will give you insight into the drape, and thus into the texture/usability of this fabric, and how suitable it may or may not be for your project.

I know it's a lot to think about but I am now going to give you resources for where to see all this stuff.

Number one is Mood Fabrics, which I can't believe hasn't been in any of the posts I've seen so far. They are a huge store in NYC's Fashion District and yes you can go there, but when I went there it overwhelmed me so much I left empty-handed. But what they have is AN INCREDIBLE WEBSITE. They have everything on there, and what's most important for you, their listings are INCREDIBLY consistent. They have VIDEOS of many of the fabrics, where a sales associate will hold it, wave it, stretch it, and tell you verbally what it is and what it's for, in about thirty seconds. HUNDREDS of these videos.

Whether you want to buy from them or not, go to Mood Fabrics, click around, find their listings, and read them. They will tell you fabric content, weight (usually gsm), often weave, they have little graphics that show you if it's for pants, dresses, shirts. And they have those videos. Look at the listings, watch the videos, and you will leave knowing a lot more about how to look at an online listing of fabric and know what you're getting.

Another really excellent website for this is Stonemountain & Daughter. I've actually not bought anything from them yet (they came highly recommended, but they're not cheap), but their online listings are, again, very thorough and very detailed. They always have a picture of the fabric with a fold in it held in place by a pin, which does more to help you understand the weight and drape of a fabric than any other static image ever could-- that visual, combined with how informative the listings are, has helped me learn to estimate fabric weights on other sites very effectively.

And here is a page that's ostensibly about how to wash silk, but I found it so useful because it gives such a clear image of what each weave/type of silk fabric looks and drapes like. I've never bought anything from these guys either, but this is a good resource.

Learn a little bit about fabric so you know what you're looking for, and you can begin to replace some of that "i just have to go and feel it in person" problem. There will still be trial and error, but you'll have a better starting place at least.

[byoldervine]

Foreshadowing Ideas

• Character themes/motifs. I’ve heard of one writer who tries to give each character their own theme for similes, metaphors, descriptions, etc so there’s like a theme to the way they’re portrayed. You could use that to foreshadow notable secrets about the character that will later be revealed, or if at any point they’re disguised then you can use that to tip off the reader that they have the same motifs and so might be related/the same person

• Tiny details hidden in lists. Say the MC was trying to work out the identity of a bad guy, who we know was wearing a red shirt on the day of a big bad event. A few chapters later, MC is checking around their best friend’s room to find them, with the place its usual mess with discarded takeaway boxes, the bed unmade, a red shirt left on the floor that could use a good sweep. The red shirt might not click with all the readers, but those who register it upon their first read will eat it up

• Inconsistent behavioural patterns. Once we have a good idea of what a character is like, having them act out of character can set off alarm bells and make us question what’s occurred to make them act this way. Let the other characters register it too, if it’s reasonable that they would, but let them ultimately brush it off quite quickly to keep it subtle. Or just call it right out, whichever you prefer

• Unreliable narrators. Let one character say one thing and a second character say another, even if they both ultimately agree on the same thing but get one or two small details wrong. Ideally do this two or three times in order for the reader to know it’s not just a mistake in the plot but an intentional inconsistency, but even if it’s only done once and it’s taken as a mistake it’ll still slot together like puzzle pieces in the end and they’ll be kicking themself for dismissing it

• In-universe red herrings. If you’re going to add red herrings as foreshadowing, it’s helpful if the red herring aligns with the intentions of someone person aware of the upcoming plot twist who’s trying to control the narrative. Say the plot twist was the reveal of a mysterious character’s identity to be the best friend of the MC, the best friend might have deliberately thrown the MC off their scent by planting suspicions in the MC’s mind that a different character was the mysterious character’s identity all along. This is less about foreshadowing the actual reveal, of course, but rereads will be a punch to the gut when everyone realises that all this misinformation and red herring business came from someone trying to cover their own ass rather than coming from misunderstandings or multiple other random sources

[exqorcism]

SO INTO YOU. ━ nicholas a. chavez & cooper koch ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

❝ pairing. n. chavez x fem!reader x c. koch ❞

a/n. woof this took long... i hope you enjoy though! let me know if you want a part two (i want to write it so bad but really rough & filthy this time). anyways requests are open just like my legs for these two

.ᐟ warnings. fluff (just nick & coop being cuties & in love!!!), SMUT! making out, soft!dom!cooper, more of a mean!dom!nicholas, slapping?, threesome ofc, oral (fem!receiving), fingering, orgasm denial, sum dirty talk (praise & slight degradation), more fluff :)) wc. 4896

The camera flashes made you slightly lightheaded as you posed, well-trained smile on your face ━ your uneasiness not visible to the paparazzi, but the two men next to you noticed it almost immediately.

Nicholas' hand was resting around your waist comfortably; not tight or low enough to draw attention of the cameramen, but with enough force to let you know that he was there for you.

You looked at Cooper, sweet smile on his face when he caught your eye, the flashes finally coming to an end, and all three of you exhaled with relief.

"I thought it would never end", you pressed your glossed lips together, fixing your hair softly, as you fell back against the chair.

Nicholas laughed at that, sitting across from you, the exhaustion visible in his eyes; he made sure no one was looking before taking your hand into his.

Your relationship with Nicholas was quite... complicated. You were best friends ever since you two met on the set of Monsters. It was you, Cooper and Nicholas, a trio that the internet loved.

Although, you were just a woman. And Nicholas was just a man. It soon evolved into something deeper; something you couldn't quite name. The lingering touches, sleeping on a couch together after an exhausting day on set, sporadic kisses on the cheek, a little too close to the corner of your lips. It would be hard to explain to the general public. You were just friends.

When it came to Cooper, he was the sunshine of your trio. His hugs warm, always making sure you were comfortable in his presence. He was so much different than Nicholas; less bold, always touching you with a glint of uncertainty. They complimented each other so well, it actually started driving you crazy.

You liked Nicholas, and you liked Cooper. Although at this point, you weren't sure if you only liked them. You still felt comfortable around them, but every touch from either of them sent a spark of excitement down your spine, which ━ you hoped ━ they didn't notice.

You had no idea what was happening, but you didn't like it.

Nicholas' thumb traced soft circles on the back of your hand, his eyes warm and welcoming, pretty smile adoring his face. You hesitated before returning the gesture, the loud music and incoherent voices seemed to fade into obscurity as you stared at him. He looked so good that night; a patterned, slightly unbuttoned shirt clung onto his body perfectly, simple black dress pants and shoes, and the god damn cross necklace. Such a simple look, but he looked absolutely flawless. You wondered how he managed to leave you speechless every time he walked into the room. His hair looked messier than usual after he ran a hand through it right after you all left the spotlight.

You shook slightly when you realised you were staring. Nicholas chuckled, shaking his head, hand leaving yours, the sudden coldness making you miss his touch almost instantly.

"You look good tonight", you declared, looking him up and down shamelessly, sly smirk appearing on your face. Nicholas leaned back against the chair, spreading his legs; the sight making your mouth water.

"Could say the same about you, Y/N", Nick rubbed his bottom lip with his thumb nonchalantly. A dangerous glint appeared in his eyes, and you crossed your legs at the sight. Your name leaving his mouth made you shift in your seat uncomfortably, the room becoming smaller in a second.

He didn't lie, though. You decided on a bold outfit, yet modest enough to make an impression. A tight bodysuit with built-in shorts, leaving a little to the imagination; brand new, knee high Naked Wolfe boots that made your legs look longer, and a leather, red coat. Nicholas almost choked when he first saw you, and so did Cooper ━ yet you didn't notice the way their eyes lingered on your body for a little too long.

"You look... fucking hot". You couldn't help but smile at the compliment; his voice sincere, eyes glistening with something you couldn't quite name, playful smirk lingering on his lips. You bit your lip, slightly breathless, playing with the hem of your bodysuit mindlessly. Nicholas' eyes wandered down your body as you did, your curves visible through the thin material, and he noticed that instantly.

"Hey!" Cooper's voice saved you from the heat of Nick's stare as he stepped in. You looked up at him, his presence not helping that much, after all; he looked so good, they both did.

"We have to do some interviews and then we can get the hell outta here", he declared, and you nodded, getting up from the chair awkwardly. A waitress stopped next to the three of you, tray with some kind of alcohol in her hand ━ champagne, you assumed, polite smile on her face. Without hesitation, you took a glass, swallowing all of its contents almost at once.

Nicholas and Cooper laughed when you made a face; it definitely wasn't a champagne. It tasted more like a vodka tonic. Your face twisted in pure disgust at the taste, eyes closing involuntarily.

"Now, slow down, pretty", Cooper said in a playful tone; the nickname made you wish you could drink five more of those drinks. You sent him a glare, small smile lingering on your lips nonetheless.

You heard someone call your name, and you exhaled at the sight of an interviewer waving at you. You exchanged knowing looks with both men before you all walked towards the camera.

A few hours and drinks later, you finally felt your body relaxing. The better part of the event came ━ an after party where cameras were not allowed. You were relieved; the annoying and disrespectful paparazzi followed you like lost puppies, as if trying to capture every single moment of your evening.

You found yourself sitting at the bar, Nicholas and Cooper nowhere in sight. You played with the rim of your glass, the slight buzz finally getting to you, small smile playing on your face.

An image of Cooper and Nick popped up in your head again, and you found yourself thinking about them in inappropriate ways.

The way they'd kiss you, Nicholas more harshly, demanding, almost aggressively. And Cooper? Cooper would take his time, leaving you breathless and painfully turned on when he pulled away. You had no idea which one you liked better. Preferably both, at the same time.

You shook your head, finally deciding on going to search for them. The smell of weed filled your nostrils, and you raised your eyebrows; it wasn't usual for celebrities events to go this far.

Your steps were quite unsure and shaky due to the alcohol in your system, but still confident, as you paced through the crowd of people. You looked around you in search of Cooper familiar curls, but you soon realised it was pointless.

What if they're making out with some random girls?

The thought crossed your mind and you shifted uncomfortably, accepting your defeat as you walked towards the bathrooms.

The corridor was dark, and if it wasn't for the music still playing loudly in the background and the alcohol in your system, you would definitely be scared.

Your boots echoed through the walls, shiver running up your spine at the sudden coldness. You almost screamed when the men's bathroom door opened, and you were met with someone's warm chest.

His smell filled your nostrils, and you exhaled, recognising it right away. Nicholas.

"Already falling for me, doll?", he laughed when you looked up at him, the height difference almost ridiculous ━ even when you were wearing the highest boots you could find.

The corridor was lit only by the men's bathroom dim lightning, and you suddenly felt a spark of excitement run through your chest.

"I was looking everywhere for you!", you declared, stepping away from him, the smell of his cologne making your head spin a little. You studied his face; he seemed completely sober, hair in the same condition you last saw it in ━ so he didn't fuck anyone during his absence. Relief run through your veins at the realisation, small smile making its way onto your face.

"I was looking for you, too", he grinned, and your stomach turned at the sight. "We were just talking about getting the hell out of here. Wanna spend the night?", he asked casually, and even though it wasn't unusual for you to stay over at his place, it felt different this time. You nodded frantically, biting your lip. His cross, gold chain glistened in the dim lightning, and you couldn't help but stare at his chest, hiding under the shirt.

"You know...", you started, your hand moving up before you could register, fingertips lingering on his chest softly. Nicholas stiffened when you met his eyes, and his jaw clenched. "You look really good tonight".

"If you were anyone else, I'd think you're flirting with me", he laughed, but you could feel his muscles tensing when you run your fingers over his chest more confidently now. You tilted your head, wanting nothing more than to feel his skin on yours. "And what if I was?", you challenged, voice teasing, and his hands were on your hips in an instant. Nicholas pulled you close, hands slipping under your loose coat, running over your curves greedily.

"I wouldn't mind", he said truthfully, and you breathed out. He was so close, you could feel his breath on your cheek, and your lashes fluttered at the feeling. "I would say... you look tempting. Making it really hard for me to control myself".

You tensed, hands running over the sides of his neck, eyes never leaving his, and you noticed how much darker they've gotten. With one swift movement, you were against the wall, Nicholas' hand lifting your leg to rest on his hip.

"You have no idea what you do to me", he whispered, his voice low and predatory, as his other hand run over your throat softly.

This will ruin our friendship. These words echoed in your head as you looked deep into his eyes, gaze almost innocent, sending jolts of electricity down to his cock. Any doubt left your mind when you realised that you waited for this for the longest time. Maybe I like him a little too much, you thought, as your eyes lingered on his lips, so tempting. Before he could say anything else, you pressed your lips to his greedily.

You couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips at the contact; your lips moved in a perfect sync, hands roaming over his chest, nails digging into his skin. Nicholas held your thigh, squeezing the soft flesh in his big hand, the other one tangling itself in your hair.

He pulled on it, hard, and you whimpered, the pain on your scalp sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core. He smiled into the kiss, body pressing into yours with force as his tongue found its way into your mouth. One more pull at your hair, and you moaned into the kiss, his tongue half down your throat in an instant. It traced the inside of your mouth, almost as if he was trying to memorise every single detail about it.

He swallowed your moan as you arched into him, eager to feel all of him all over you, his strong hold on your hair only intensifying.

You felt his bulge press into your thigh deliciously; you tested the waters by grinding your hips down, and he let out a strangled moan, the sound making you shiver.

The next second Nicholas' lips were all over your neck, and your head tilted back involuntarily, mouth opening in a desperate moan. That was before you realised you were still on an event ━ public event, and that someone could actually catch you making out in a dark corridor.

You tried to form a sentence, but the words died before you could speak, as he sucked the soft skin on the column of your throat: marking you.

"Nick- we need to-", you tried to explain how irresponsible he was being, but he didn't seem to listen; if anything, he got more eager, pressing you flat against the wall, hips moving forward to grind against you.

That's when he opened his eyes and looked into the darkness surrounding you; and he was pleased to see Cooper standing there, leaning against the wall, watching the little show in front of him with interest.

Nicholas smiled as you pulled at his shirt, playing with the buttons, and he kissed your neck once again just to distract you from noticing Cooper.

"Looks like have an audience, doll", he whispered in your ear, and it took you a second to actually process his words; when you did, your eyes shot open.

"Holy shit", you heard a familiar voice; your eyes widened even more in realisation.

Cooper stood there, in the darkness, and if it wasn't for his voice you wouldn't even notice he was there. He took a step closer, and you were surprised to see that he didn't look mad. He didn't look surprised, either. Small smirk made its way onto his face, eyes dark ━ but it could be all about the shitty lightning.

You bit your lip, not quite knowing what to say. Nicholas took a step back, not a trace of shame or embarrassment on his face; he returned Cooper's gaze, a silent deal made between the two.

You knew Cooper was into guys. You weren't quite sure if he liked girls, too ━ you never asked, partially because you were scared of the answer. His words made you think that maybe he was into Nicholas, maybe he liked him the way you did. You shifted uncomfortably, not meeting his eyes.

"Well, we are finally getting there", Nicholas said, fixing the bulge in his pants shamelessly, and your gaze lingered on it for a little too long. You wanted ━ no, needed ━ more, and getting caught by Cooper of all people didn't exactly help the pulsing between your legs. Nick caught your gaze, playful glint in his eyes, but he looked unaffected. You wondered what he meant, but just before you could ask, he already took your hand and leaded you to the door; Cooper following close behind you.

You were panting, hair messy and lipgloss smudged; most of it stayed on Nicholas' face, though. Your eyes glistened insatiably, his words echoing in your mind like a promise of what was about to come.

You didn't remember the way back to your hotel; when you did get there, though, you felt Nicholas' hand low on your back, Cooper keeping his distance as you walked to one of the boys' room; you couldn't help but wonder if he was mad at what he had witnessed, guilt blooming in your stomach.

Nicholas looked relaxed, though, sending you and Cooper an occasional smile, tracing soft circles onto your back, and you shivered at his touch.

You got to the room 230; you remembered it belonged to both of them. As Cooper unlocked the door, Nicholas' presence behind you like a shadow; you walked in, the tension between the three of you lingering in the air as you made your way to the living room.

"Coop, I...", you started, breaking the silence, as Nicholas disappeared in his own room. The older man didn't look at you when he took his coat off, avoiding your gaze. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't... We shouldn't have...".

You could tell he was holding himself back as he did everything but look at you, pretending to be extremely busy with his watch.

"I'm not mad, Y/N", he ensured; you raised your eyebrows at the sound of his voice. Hoarse, low and quite strangled.

"Then why won't you look at me? Why won't you talk to me?", you whined, the need to confess everything you felt for him now stronger than ever.

He didn't answer. You sighed, a hint of annoyance now clear in your voice.

You stared at Cooper from a safe distance, taking in the sight in front of you. He looked just as good as Nick: simple but elegant, making you sweat like a dog in heat. A black, plain sweater, dress pants and shoes complimenting his tan skin. His long fingers played with the watch on his wrist, and you couldn't help but imagine the possibilities.

You took the coat off your shoulders, the sudden heat all over your body making you sweat uncontrollably. Your boots clicked against the marble floor as you made your way to the couch, throwing the coat on it carelessly.

You took a deep breath before deciding on what to do next.

"Coop...", you turned to him, and he finally met your eyes. "I want... For the longest time, I...".

The weight of what you were about to confess fell on your shoulders with force, words dying in your throat under his intense gaze.

"She wants to fuck us".

Your eyes widened at the words leaving Nicholas' mouth. You turned to him, he leaned against the doorframe, shirt slightly unbuttoned, dress pants still low on his hips. He must've been there for quite a while, watching you struggle.

"I...", you tried to explain, all of it pointless when he smiled knowingly.

You couldn't lie to then and say that he was wrong; but you couldn't just admit that he was right.

"I'm not doing this", you whimpered, embarrassment filling your whole chest, making it hard to breathe.

"You're not doing what? Admitting the truth? It would be so much easier for us to grant your wishes sooner if you were honest from the start, pretty", Cooper got closer to you by a second, and Nicholas creeped in behind you, the room becoming smaller in a second as you realised that they planned all of this.

Cooper tilted his head, his gaze hardening dangerously as he watched you.

Nicholas' chest pressed against your back, and you whined at the contact; your eyes never left Cooper's, almost as if an invisible string was connecting the two of you.

A wet kiss on the side neck was all it took for your knees to buckle. Before you knew it, Nicholas was devouring the delicate skin of your neck and collarbones, his big hands closing on your hips, making sure you stayed upright.

This is so wrong, you thought when Cooper took a step towards you, and, as if he was testing the waters, leaned over to brush your lips against his. Nicholas licked a wet stripe up your neck, and you arched your back, a quiet whimper leaving your mouth when Cooper came closer, pinning you between his and Nicholas' bodies.

"Tell me you want this", he whispered, voice soft, and you tried to nod, but Nicholas' actions on your neck made you slightly lightheaded. "Tell me".

"I- I do", you breathed out. "Wanted this for so long".

You felt Nick smile against your skin as he pulled away just slightly, his bulge pressing against your ass deliciously. Your mind went blank as Cooper finally pressed his lips to yours, his kiss soft but demanding.

Nicholas squeezed your hips in his big hands, and you whined, clawing at Cooper's chest, the urge to feel his skin on yours overwhelming, and Nicholas was back on you again. He cupped your breasts through the thin material of your bodysuit; you moaned shamelessly, biting on Cooper's lip, the taste of him intoxicating.

You were in one of the boys' room in a blink of an eye. Nicholas grinned at you and sat down on the bed, and your lips were back on his in an instant. He tugged at your hair yet again as you started unbuttoning his shirt; the feeling of his chiselled chest under your fingertips almost making you drool a little.

You pulled away, taking the excess clothing off his body, throwing it somewhere on the floor. You looked at Cooper, his eyes glistening softly as he traced his fingers down your back. You couldn't decide whether to focus on him or Nicholas.

Cooper kissed you again, this time more aggressively, pushing his tongue into your mouth for it to tangle with your own; a groan left his mouth at the taste of you as he held you close, tugging at the material of your bodysuit urgently.

You smiled before pulling away, taking off your shoes ━ the height difference even more prominent now ━ before you removed the bodysuit from your body in one, swift movement.

Your back was met with the soft sheets, the boys towering over you, each on opposite sides of the bed. Your chest heaved with uneven breaths, and you thanked yourself for choosing a sexy set of lingerie for the night.

Nicholas' greedy hands were on you, everywhere at once, running over your curves, squeezing the soft skin of your covered breasts. You whined, searching for Cooper's mouth again, and he gladly leaned in, delicate touch lingering on your neck, making sure to leave you panting under him.

"We've talked about it for months", Nick admitted, and Cooper pulled away, nodding at his words.

"We wanted to have you right here, under us, letting us use you however we please", the younger man continued, exposing your boobs with one strong tug at the lacy material of your bra.

You panted when you felt both of their lips on your sensitive skin there. The difference between the two men more prominent than ever now that they were touching you. Cooper's movements were more thoughtful as he pressed wet kisses on the skin of your boob, tongue darting out to circle around your nipple teasingly. Nicholas didn't hold back, biting at the sensitive nub between strong sucks, making you see stars. They complimented each other so well, it actually made you whine and arch your back as you tugged at their hair.

"Holy shit, please", you begged for god knows what, and you almost cried out in relief when Nicholas lowered his head, pressing kisses all over your stomach, before he found the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

Cooper positioned himself so that he could sit behind you, his legs on both sides of your own. He grabbed your thighs, spreading them open for Nicholas; he lowered his head to look at your drenched cunt, a small patch of wetness on the centre of your panties. He hummed, biting the soft skin of your thighs, and when he looked up at you, you felt as if you could come at the sight alone.

Cooper kept one of his hands on your thigh, while the other one travelled up your stomach, between your boobs, brushing against your hard nipples just for a second.

"Are you sure?" he whispered in your ear softly in the exact moment when Nicholas' lips pressed against your clothed pussy. He placed a dirty, open mouthed kiss on the center, and you shivered, head lulling back against Cooper's shoulder.

"Answer him, doll", Nick demanded; voice sharp and dangerously low as he watched the way your jaw went slack, mouth opening in a quiet whimper.

"She sounds so pretty", the older man smirked, and you felt his bulge press against your back. His grip on your tight tightened, and he pressed a soft kiss on your shoulder.

"Nick, please, yes- I'm sure", your eyes opened involuntarily as he moved your panties to the side, your wet cunt now exposed to the cool air around you.

"Holy shit", Nicholas smiled, tilting his head while his thumb pressed against your clit. The touch was barely there, but it didn't fail to send jolts of electricity down your spine. "She's so wet, Cooper. Almost dripping all over my sheets".

Cooper hummed softly right into your ear and you twitched against both of them. They were talking as if you weren't there, and it made you embarrassingly more turned on.

"Yeah?", he rasped, the sound making you shiver against them. One of Cooper's hands travelled down to brush against your puffy clit. You moaned as they both touched you; Nicholas' fingers slowly dipping into your entrance, the wetness coating your walls making it easy for him to stretch you out. Cooper's thoughtful touch graced the button hiding between your folds. His touch so delicate, unlike Nicholas' ━ his fingers moved slowly but steadily, pulling them out almost fully before dipping back in.

You were breathless; your chest heaved with uneven breaths, one of Cooper's hand resting on your boob ━ not putting any pressure, just letting you feel his hands on your overheated body.

"So good, oh shit-", you managed to get out as your back arched off the bed; Nicholas was quick to hold your hips down with his unoccupied hand. His wrist moved faster now, along with Cooper's; they found just the right rhythm to make you go crazy without making you come too fast.

Whimpers left your mouth as you gripped Cooper's thighs, your nails digging into his skin with enough force to leave marks.

"You're right, she's practically soaking our hands", Cooper murmured, and you could feel your cheeks heating up. Your eyes fell closed for a second, before his free hand reached to grab your neck ━ pressing with pressure that made you slightly lightheaded, but not with enough force to choke you. Your eyes flew open; Cooper looked down at you, his darkened eyes making your legs shake.

"Don't close your eyes, darling", he held your throat harder; both of their hands moving in sync, determined to get you to your peak. "Please", you whispered pathetically, turning your eyes to Nicholas, who was watching you the whole time. His mouth formed into a dirty, open mouthed smirk, sending sparks of electricity down your spine.

Holy shit.

"Are you close, doll?" Nicholas asked, his voice raspier than you've ever heard before. You nodded frantically, the coil in your stomach ready to snap any second now. You whined when Cooper's fingers left your clit and Nick slowed down.

"No, fuck!", you cried out, hips bucking into Nicholas' hand, and they both definitely didn't like it.

You felt a strong sting on your left breast, Cooper's hand slapping it roughly.

"Look at her, practically crying for us to make her cum", Nicholas tutted, his drenched fingers scissoring into your cunt. Before you could come up with a smart reply, his mouth was all over you.

He pressed a wet kiss right on your clit. You squirmed; Cooper held both of your boobs in his big hands as he watched Nicholas devour you with a satisfied smile on his face, index finger and thumb tugging on your nipples experimentally.

Nicholas held your gaze as he licked a stripe from your opening up to your clit. He sucked the little button between his lips, tongue tracing circles around it, his fingers inside of you moving with precision, hitting just the right spot every time.

"She tastes so sweet, Coop", he groaned between licks, winking at you, the vibrations of his voice making your thighs shake around his head.

"Oh, I bet she does", Cooper replied breathlessly and he forced your face towards him; his mouth meeting yours instantly, tongue playing with yours as he swallowed your moans.

"I'm-", you weren't able to finish the sentence, before Nicholas sucked on your clit particularly hard, his fingers moving swiftly inside of you, and you could feel your orgasm nearing.

"Come for us", Cooper whispered softly, fingers playing with your stiff nipples non-stop as you whimpered into his mouth.

"Yeah, baby, come on, make a mess for us", Nicholas pulled away only enough to watch your face twist in pure bliss, the sight of you kissing Cooper while he pleasured you turning him on more than it should.

You cried out, one last withdraw of Nicholas' fingers and your back arched off the bed; they didn't stop you this time. Cooper pulled away to watch your face as you wet Nicholas' hand, creaming all over his thick fingers.

You were breathless, eyes threatening to close, but instead they widened, when Nicholas got up from his knees, grabbing Cooper's hair, and then kissing him.

Obscene sounds left both of their mouths as Nick let Cooper taste you on his tongue. You watched the scene shamelessly, your pussy clenching around nothing as Cooper sucked on Nicholas' mouth before pulling away.

"You're right, she tastes fucking divine", he breathed out, grinning at you and Nick, eyes clouded with lust.

Your legs closed, the earth shattering orgasm leaving you spent and limp between their bodies.

Your head fell against Cooper's chest, and he wrapped his arms around you in an instant.

Nick smiled at the sight of you, so defenceless and spent after only his fingers and mouth.

He pressed a sweet kiss against your forehead, and you murmured something incoherent, almost falling asleep right there and then.

"No. I wanna cuddle", you whined when Cooper and Nicholas tried to pull away, but they were quick to obey. Cooper laid you on your side, his chest pressed firmly against your back, and Nicholas laid down on his back, letting you rest your head against his own chest. He played with your hair mindlessly, and you were fast to fall asleep, nothing but happiness filling both your heart and mind.

hoffmansgirl © 2024 | request here !!

nicholas alexander chavez masterlist 𓂃✮‧₊˚໒꒱ ₊

[arbitrarykiwi]

omfg i think i speak for everyone when i say we need more thanos and nam gyu boyfriend content bc OHMYGOD i need them i need them to pass ME like a blunt

Passed Around

omg uhhh..... YES??!!! there's just somethin about the idea of smoking with them and then getting absolutely RUINED by both of them. you would have to pull me out of a room with them by the back of my neck like a fucking DOG!!! I NEED BOAF EM SO BAYYYYDDDDD!!!! I hope you enjoy anon!!! <3

Warnings: smut (18+), bro..I took this and fucking ran with it omg, weed smoking, sex while high, threesome, oral (m and f receiving), they both eat you out at the same time, choking, squirting, multiple orgasms, recording sex (they both do it), missionary, doggy style, deep throating/ throat fucking, name calling (bitch, slut, whore) ((but they really mean it endearingly)) , facial, lil bit of cum play, spit, spanking, Thanos slaps you like once (not in a mean way), fuckeddumb! Reader, probably more, read at your own risk

If anyone comes across this that’s not familiar with my profile- first off hiiii!- second, this request bounces of a previous thangyu x reader request you can find here - it’s not needed to read it before this, just wanted to put it here if you wish to find more of my thangyu content :D

If someone asked if you were lucky, you’d say yes without a doubt in your mind. And it’s all because of your two doting boyfriends!

Thanos and Nam-gyu were admittedly like night and day, they couldn’t be more different from each other- but that’s what makes them work so well! You got the best of both worlds.

You hardly could ever spend a moment alone, they always had to be by you. If they both weren’t there, one of them was. But thankfully tonight, you have both of them at your sides. You’re sandwiched in between them on Nam-gyu’s bed. A blunt is being passed between the three of you, the room smoky and only lit by the bright colors of the TV that blares the show you guys were watching. You think you guys are on your third or fourth blunt of the night- you weren’t sure they just kept rolling anytime one was finished, and you just kept smoking them.

You’re laid back against the headboard of Nam-gyu’s bed. Your hooded eyes watching the TV with a dazed expression. The warmth of their body’s only helping to relax you further than you already are.

They’re curled around you, Thanos was to your left, he had his arm slung around you, your head on his shoulder, one of his tattooed fingers playing with your hair. He’d alternate between stroking your hair or just having his hand slung over your shoulder, going under the collar of your shirt to grab at one of your breasts- it wasn’t even sexual, he just loved the feel of your tits in his hands. It calmed him down! At least that’s what he always told you.

Nam-gyu is lying on top of your stomach, legs entangled with yours. His cold hands are under your shirt, drawing random patterns against the skin of your stomach. Your hand is in his hair, twirling the black strands around your fingers. Anytime you’d poke his head to pas him the blunt, he’d remove his hands from under your shirt to reach up and take the blunt, hit it, then pass it back to Thanos- returning his hands to under your shirt. Following in Thanos’ footsteps as he’d reach his hand up to your other breast that Thanos wasn’t occupying and copy his movements.

And that’s how you guys stay for a bit as you smoked, Thanos and Nam-gyu would occasionally have a hand on one of your tits, removing themselves from you only to hit the blunt.

You were either too high, too entranced in the show on TV or in such a calm haze by their gentle touches and presence, or a mixture of all three- but you seem to miss the look your two boyfriends give each other. It’s a silent confirmation that they both want the same thing-you. There’s a hungry glint in both of their eyes as they stare at each other. Thanos nods, his grin widening as he nudges you with his arm that’s skin around your shoulder.

Thanos takes a long drag, sucking in the smoke, and holding it in for a moment. You think he’s trying to show you something, why else would he get your attention by nudging you like that? You also feel Nam-gyu twist his head against your stomach. You look down to find his chin resting against your flesh, looking up at you with red tinted eyes and a hazy smile, “Hi my baby.” You coo quickly, with a confused giggle, hand running over his hair making sure to acknowledge him- god forbid you give Thanos more attention than Nam-gyu.

You’re then quickly turning your face back to Thanos, trying to see what he wanted to show you. You watch him as he stares at you with his hooded eyes. He lets his breath go, the yellow-ish smoke is billowing out of his mouth. Your eyes widen, “ooohhh! It’s yellow, you guys picked up really good shit this time.” You praise, figuring that’s that he wanted to show you. But it wasn’t.

They both chuckle, Thanos passes the blunt to Nam-gyu, reaching over you and skipping your turn in the rotation completely. You’re pulled out of your stoned haze as you whip your head to look at Thanos accusatorially. “What the fuck?! You skipped me.” You pout looking over to Nam-gyu who smirks at you and hits the blunt, staring at you mockingly from his spot against your stomach.

The purple haired man to your left just laughs, leaning in and beginning to trail his nose up your neck, inhaling your scent. His hand, now free from the blunt runs up your stomach, over your chest, and up your neck to your jaw, turning your face back to him. “You don’t need to be hittin’ that Señorita, you’re gonna be busy.” He mumbles, a wicked grin on his face as he brings you closer to him, capturing your lips in his.

You sigh into it, it’s slow and full of tongue. You always hate how easily they can make you melt. Your lips move in sync, Thanos’ tattooed hands come to cup the sides of your face, pulling you impossibly closer. His tongue is exploring your mouth, tasting you for all you’re worth.

You let out a surprised sound that was akin to a squeak as from your right side, Nam-gyu’s hands are all over you, gripping at your waist as he pushes your shirt up to begin leaving open mouthed kisses on your stomach, the blunt hanging loosely between his fingers as he pushes himself upwards to begin to kiss along your neck as you continue kissing his purple haired counterpart part. Thanos is suddenly pulling away from the kiss, biting your bottom lip as he retreats. His hands push your face to your right and immediately Nam-gyu’s lips are on yours.

Any time they do something like this, pushing you or guiding you to the other when they’re finished- truly sharing you rather than competing with each other- it has you spinning. The contrast between Thanos’ desperate, rough kiss to Nam-gyu’s forceful and needy one already has you feeling hot and bothered.

Nam-gyu always kisses you so fervently, like you’re a dream that he never wants to wake up from. His hands are working up your waist to your breasts, kneading the soft flesh in his hands. Thanos hisses, feeling his cock harden as he watches you two make out, gritting his teeth and drawing in a shaky breath when he sees one of Nam-gyu’s hands remove itself from under your shirt and come up to grip at your throat as he pulls away from the kiss.

It’s an instant reaction when his grip tightens on your neck, you whine out desperately, eyebrows upturning and pupils blowing wide. You can hear the both of them chuckle. Nam-gyu is pulling you up, guiding you by your throat to a kneeling position. Thanos situates himself behind you, hands reaching up under your shirt, immediately beginning to pull at your perky nipples. Thankfully, you hardly ever wore a bra when you were with them- why would you? It just gets in the way more often than not.

“See… all it takes is me choking her and she gets so worked up f’us. ‘S like a lil on switch ain’t it?” Nam-gyu chides with a mocking tone, punctuating his words by squeezing your throat harder. It causes you to bite your lip, your body temperature sky rocketing, you can feel your pussy begin to throb. The pressure that’s added to your neck causes you to arch back into Thanos, pressing your ass back into him.

You hear Thanos chuckle darkly as he hooks his chin over one of your shoulders his hands dropping from your breasts to your hips, his fingers slipping below the waist band of your shorts- which were actually a pair of Nam-gyu’s boxers- to feel you against his palms entirely- he honestly wished you weren’t even wearing those stupid fucking boxers, they just get in the way. He’s pulling your ass back onto his hardening cock, “I know right…” he hums back in response to Nam-gyu who’s still using one hand to hold your throat while the other works to roughly grope at your breasts.

Thanos begins to grind his erection on your ass, you can only begin to breath heavier when you feel the thick heat of his cock begin to grow against your back. “Cute little thing just loves being man handled…” Thanos mocks into your ear. “Bet she’s already dripping just by us fondling her a bit, so easy…” he adds, you can hear the mocking pout in his voice although you can’t see his face.

Nam-gyu is staring at you like you’re an ancient greek statue of a long forgotten goddess that he wants to devote himself to and devour, and you can only imagine that Thanos facial expression is similar. “Of course she is…” Nam-gyu hums, his hand pulls away from your breast, pulling your nipple with as he does.

You bite down on your bottom lip harder, your eyes squeeze shut and you let out a soft moan. It makes both of them become infinitely harder. As Nam-gyu releases your nipple, Thanos is leaning further over your shoulder. They both watch hungrily as the flesh bounces back to your chest, jiggling a bit before settling back into place. “Why don’t you check? Check to see how wet her slutty pussy is just from us barely messin’ with her.” Thanos directs at Nam-gyu.

Thanos is pulling away quickly working to pull your (his) shirt over your head. When the shirt’s is thrown off to the side, Thanos’ hand replaces Nam-gyu’s on your throat, pulling you back into him. His mouth is on your neck, teeth biting into the flesh. His other tattooed hand is attaching to the swell of your breasts his thumb rubbing over your nipples before pinching.

At the same time one of Nam-gyu’s hands is gripping at your hip and the other is slipping his hand down into the waistband of the boxers you’re wearing. His hand molds to your pussy, letting out a low growl when he feels how wet you’re becoming.

“She’s fucking soaked…” he directs towards Thanos, you can tell by his voice that with his discovery, a new level of hunger is reached within the dark haired male. Nam-gyu moves his hand on your hip reaches up and pulls one of Thanos’ hand off your breasts, “outta my way.” He grumbles before his mouth is around your nipple.

Thanos is behind you, grumbling under his breath, his cock rutting into your back harder, “fuckin’ selfish.” He scolds Nam-gyu. He releases his hand on your throat to drop it to the breast that his counterpart wasn’t occupying, “yer already playin with her pussy, bro, c’mon.” He continues. It only makes your chest heave faster. Something about them fighting over you always made your heart and pussy flutter.

Nam-gyu’s mouth always was, and currently is relentless. He’s sucking your nipple into his mouth and moaning into your flesh like he’s in heaven. His fingers are practically finger painting with your arousal, smearing the syrupy liquid that is gushing out of you around your cunt and thighs. “Mhm…” Nam-gyu responds, mouth still attached to your breast. He pulls off with a wet pop, looking up to Thanos who was still leaning over your shoulder “And she’s soooo fuckin’ wet dude…such a messy fuckin’ pussy.” Nam-gyu teases, knowing it would only piss Thanos off that he wasn’t tasting or feeling your sweet cunt like Nam-gyu was.

Nam-gyu’s fingers worked magic, playing with your folds and coaxing more and more sweet and wetness to drip out of your cunt. He’s practically massaging your pussy, moaning into your tits as he savors the soft feeling of your soaking cunt on his fingers. You’re a panting mess against Thanos, soft moans beginning to slip through your lips.

“Oh fuck you…” Thanos seethes at Nam-gyu, taking his irritation out on you- squeezing harder at your breast and grinding his hard cock against your ass. “I can’t wait any longer. I needa taste ‘er.” Thanos growls, lightly shoving you forward into Nam-gyu as he begins to move out from behind you, scooting on his knees around the bed. “Finally somethin’ we agree on.” Nam-gyu scoffs with a laugh.

It’s a skillfully rehearsed set of movements, one they’ve done hundreds of times. Thanos pushes you forward, Nam-gyu pulls you into him, removing his hand out of the boxers you wore and pulling them down your thighs. The boxers you wore are thrown haphazardly across the room. The raven haired male is then pushing you back onto the bed, your head hits the pillows. Thanos soon joins Nam-gyu in front of you.

They each take one of your ankles in their hands. Their hands mirror each other as they slide down your legs. At this point you know you’re fucking drenched, it’s embarrassing really. And as they look down at you like two wolves ready to pounce on a fawn you’re whimpering eyes frantically darting between the two, not being able to figure out where to focus.

They’re pushing your thighs open, spreading you wide, your glistening cunt on full display for them. “Oh-ho…” Thanos chuckles, “you were right, pretty thing’s dripping for us..” his hand comes to cup your pussy, grinding his palm into your clit. He exhilerated by your sloppy state, your thighs and pubic bone covered in your own arousal thanks to Nam-gyu’s earlier work. “‘Gyu did a good job huh? His fingers feel good?” Thanos muses down to you, his tattooed middle finger beginning to trace around the outside of your cunt. You twitch against his hand, the way your pussy clenches with the minimal attention makes the both of him draw in sharp breaths.

“Mhm..” you whine out in response to Thanos your eyes trained on him as you bite your lip and nod, your hips canting up into his touch trying to get him to touch where you needed it. Your eyes dart over to Nam-gyu who’s licking his lips, hand gripping at your one of your inner thighs, thumb pulling your cunt open for them to see you better. “Made me feel so good.” You direct towards Nam-gyu. His yes look up to you, a soft smile spreading across his lips at the praise- in an instant the hungry, devious grin is back.

They seem to think the same thing, they’re both laying down on the bed, their faces becoming level with your cunt. Nam-gyu is the first to touch you again, his hand coming up to rest on your pubic bone, hand turning down, his thumb and pointer finger coming to spread you nice ‘n wide. It’s a beautiful sight, pretty pink cunt just drooling milky white arousal that spills down to your ass.

“Fucking Christ….” Thanos says with a wide grin, the hand around your thigh gripping harder, he’s looking at your pussy like it’s the million dollar jackpot at the casino or a free ounce of weed. “Perfect fucking cunt..” Nam-gyu muses, his eyes staring at your pussy hungrily, his fingers pinching together slightly causing you to whimper and arch into his touch.

“You needy, baby? Wan’ us to eat your pretty ‘lil pussy?” Thanos asks, you let out a breathless laugh, pushing yourself up on your elbows to look down at the perfect view below you. “F-fuck yes. P-please I need it. Need both of you…” You beg them desperately. They seem to look at each other for a moment before either agreeing your begging was good enough or they just couldn’t wait any longer.

The feeling of both their tongues meeting your cunt at the same time is exhilarating. They’ve done it plenty of times before but you’ve never gotten used to it. They both watch you out differently, leaving you with two different patterns lapping greedily at your pussy. Your hands are gripping the sheets of the bed beside you in a white-knuckled grip. The obscene sounds of your wet pussy and they’re slurping is sure to be heard through the walls of nam-gyu’s apartment.

They’re messy, unforgiving. Their tongues intertwine on top of your clit. Both pairs of lips wrapping around the bud. You can tell they’re just as fucked out as you are, their eyes peer up at you from between your legs, taking in every one of your reactions. It’s a view you always will think about, both of their faces buried deep in your cunt, noses bumping against your clit in alternate movements.

You’re crying out, stomach tensing. Fighting your head from falling back in ecstasy on the pillows, you really don’t want to look away from the two men who are slurping at your messy cunt like your arousal is the elixir of life. “H-holy f-fuck…” you gasp out, hips grinding up into their mouths. You can feel the vibrations of their laughs, it only sends more shocks of pleasure through your body. Thanos pulls away, leaning his face against your thigh, Nam-gyu wastes no time to fill in his place, his mouth engulfing you- tongue thrusting into your tight head.

“Mhm…” Thanos coos at you, his eyes trained on the way Nam-gyu messily tongue fucks you. “So fuckin messy…” he mocks, “you hear how loud your pussy is? Needed us so bad, huh, princess?” Thanos asks, Nam-gyu’s eyes open again and lock with yours, wanting to see your reaction. Your eyebrows are upturned, your pillowy lips wet and swollen, heaving breaths causing your breasts to jiggle with each exhale. “F-fuck ohmygod ‘Gyu..” you cry out, “y-yes needed you two so fuck- so fucking bad.” You finish.

Thanos is leaning back down, shoving Nam-Gyu to the side so he can get his own fill. Thanos is always so much more erratic than Nam-gyu. While Nam-Gyu eats you out like a dog lapping at water on a hot day, long, languid, deep strokes of his tongue trying to savor the taste of you, Thanos eats your cunt like a man starved. It’s fast paced, messy, and he’s all over you. He’s even pulling back to spit on your puffy cunt before going back in for seconds

Nam-gyu watches Thanos, his face wet by your arousal, “Such a whore…” he says, even with the harsh pet name, there’s an odd softness to his voice, he’s praising you. His hand reaching up to your face, his middle and ring finger pulling at your bottom lip. You knew what to do, your lips part sucking in his fingers. “Mhm…” he says nodding at you as your tongue swirls around his digits, the pads of his fingers pushing at your tongue, “so good f’us, smart girl knows what she needs to do….” He adds.

The purple haired rapper is pulling away from your cunt, your clit sucked into his lips as he does. You’re crying around Nam-Gyu’s fingers, eyes rolling back at the wet ‘pop’ that sounds through the room as Thanos releases your clit. “We’ve trained her well.” He mumbles against your pussy. You’re shaking against the bed, whining around Nam-gyu’s fingers. His fingers pull themselves from your mouth, wet with your saliva. He’s quickly settling back down next to Thanos, his fingers beginning to play with your puffy cunt. Your head kicks back onto the pillow as you moan out a mix of both their names.

You can hear Thanos chuckle darkly and you’re weakly pulling your head off the pillow to look down. They both have their cheeks rested against one of your thighs, just staring at the way your cunt continuously gushes thick streams of your arousal, clenching impatiently. “Ya’ didn’t even have to wet your fingers…she’s already so fuckin wet…” Thanos hisses through grit teeth, like your pussy is the most delicious sight he could ever lay his eyes upon. “Just wanted your fingers in her throat you pervert.” He laughs, looking over to Nam-gyu with a wide grin.

“Can you blame me? You seen the way she looks at you with your cock shoved down her throat, ‘s the same look.” Nam-gyu scoffs, his fingers teasing your entrance. You’re trying to grind down into his fingers, wanting your cunt to finally be full but the weight of their heads on your thighs keeps you from moving.

They either seem to have come to the conclusion they teased you enough or have waited long enough because in a second Nam-gyu’s fingers are deep within your spongy walls and both their tongues were back on your clit. Your back arches off the bed, your head tilting heavenward as you let out a choked sob. They don’t ease you into it, no they’ve been fucking you- ruining you- for well over a year now they know you can take it. And with the weed coursing through their system their mind is only set on one thing and that is feeling you, tasting you, as you cum on their tongues.

It’s so fucking filthy, the sounds that come from in between your legs only turn you on more. Nam-gyu’s fingers are pistoning into your cunt, scissoring themselves inside you and reaching places you know your fingers never could. He knows you like the back of his hand, knows exactly where to curl his fingers to brush against that spongy spot inside you that makes you see stars. Nam-gyu pulls away from your cunt, his fingers never ceasing. Thanos wastes no time in shifting over the slightest bit to fully coat your throbbing clit with the soft, wet warmth of his tongue.

“Ya’ know how much of a slut you are?” Nam-gyu hums, dark eyes watching as his fingers disappear into your leaking hole, pushing out more of your arousal onto the bed and observing how Thanos’ lips suck on your clit, tongue playing with it in swiveling motions. “Letting two men eat your depraved cunt…” The black haired male chides. Your eyebrows are upturned, your wide eyes looking at him with a fucked out haze to them. You’re just nodding alone to his words dumbly, hips grinding down on his fingers as you let out choked ‘uh-huh!’s. “And you just love it.” His eyebrow quirks up when he feels you tighten at his words, “yeeeahhh you do…can feel you squeezing me pretty girl.” He muses, beginning to curl his fingers upward in a devine, fast paced curling motion that makes the wet ‘schlick, schlick, schlick” sound that comes from your cunt become even louder.

Thanos chuckled against your cunt, pulling off of you. Nam-gyu immediately takes his place, his fingers and mouth working at your raw pussy desperate to have you cum on his tongue. Thanos is sitting up and leaning over you, laughing when he sees how your head is tilted back and your eyes are screwed shut in ecstasy. He grips your chin, hard, yanking you to face him. Your eyes shoot open to look at him, your body jerking upwards with every harsh thrust of Nam-Gyu’s fingers. “Ohhhh….” Thanos lets out in a low hum, “you’re close aren’t you? Gonna cum f’us?” He asks.

You’re babbling incoherently at this point, the way Nam-gyu is sucking at your cunt as his fingers burry themselves deep in your twitching walls makes you not be able to even think straight. Thanos is laughing, his hand coming up to connect with the side of your face in a harsh slap. It wasn’t hard, it was enough to sting, and fuck, did it make your cunt throb. You can tell Nam-gyu feels it because he scoffs against your pussy, letting out a muffled ‘filthy fuckin slut’ against your puffy folds when he feels you tighten around his fingers when you’re slapped.

Thanos hand goes back to gripping your chin after the slap, shaking your head around in a degrading manner “Answer me sweetheart. We haven’t even fucked ya’ yet and you’re already acting like a brainless whore. C’mon now, tell ‘Gyu how good he’s doin’, gonna make you cum huh?” The purple haired man growls.

“F-fuck y-yes! Feels, oh shit, feels so fucking good, ‘m g-gonna, ohmygod.” Your eyes are fluttering back as the heat in your lower stomach grows almost painful, your words cut off by choked sobs, Thanos is reaching his free hand down to push on your lower stomach, a high-pitched squeal falling out of your lips as you’re hurled towards your orgasm.

“O-oh fuck! ‘m cumming! fuckfuckfuck!!” Your words are slurred and babbled, your eyes screwing shut as you’re cumming hard. You can hear the wet gush of your cunt spraying down Nam-Gyu’s hand, drenching the sheets below you, and he’s drinking you up for all your worth, practically sucking your orgasm out of you.

“Oho! There you go! Fuck you’re makin such a mess.” Thanos praises, eyes never straying from the view of you soaking Nam-gyu’s face. You’re thrashing against the bed, hips rutting into his face as he greedily swallows your cum. You have to reach a hand up and push at his head, his lips still wrapped around your clit even after your orgasm is over. When he pulls his face up you whine breathlessly- he’s covered. His face, neck, and chest are soaked with droplets of your arousal.

“Could fuckin’ eat your sweet pussy all day..” Nam-gyu says breathlessly as his dark eyes look down to see the mess he’s made of you. Your cunt is raw and puffy, coated in your arousal and cream they worked out of you. Nam-gyu is reaching into his back pocket with one hand and using the other to spread you open so he can see your pretty pussy entirely. His and comes back around, pulling out his phone and opening the camera to take a couple pictures of his artwork. You’re whining in protest- though you really love when they do that, you know they’re only ever shared between the two of them. Both of them have albums of pictures of you once they’re through with you- they have to have things to look at if you’re not around!!

You’re pretty sure they plan out every time they’re going to fuck you. It’s like they meet before and type out an itinerary of who gets to fuck your cunt when and who’s taking your throat. Like they plan a play by play so when it comes down to it they’re not wasting any time.

You see Nam-gyu typing and then hear Thanos phone go off a moment later. They’re both maneuvering back down to your cunt, tongues going back and enveloping your pussy. You cry out, entirely overstimulated at the moment but they have to clean you up!!

They’re pulling away from your cunt in a mess of spit and saliva, tongues hanging out like dogs panting. Thanos is looking at your fucked out form when Nam-gyu goes back in for seconds (thirds.), his lips wrapped around your clit and his tongue working against it. You’re moaning out broken syllables of their names, hips grinding against his tongue. Thanos looks down annoyed at Nam-gyu, obviously straying from whatever plan they had made up.

Thanos’ painted nails are tangling themselves into Nam-gyu’s hair, yanking him off your cunt roughly. You and the male between your thighs let out echoing moans. “Quit being greedy.” He scolds at Nam-gyu,

You’re still coming down from your orgasm as they bicker, you don’t think you could ever get used to the both of them eating you out at once. Your cunt is still leaking syrupy cum, a thick trail of the creamy arousal beginning to drop down to your ass. Nam-gyu fights against Thanos’ hold to drop back down and begin devouring the rest of your cum. He’s moaning in your pussy, the taste of your orgasm one of his worst addictions, he could never get enough and always needed a fix. Thank god you were a timely dealer!

He’s pulling away from your cunt and smirking, “Couldn’t let it go to waste, bro…’s a delicacy.” Nam-Gyu says turning back to Thanos with a shit eating grin. In no time, They’re crawing off the bed, ridding themselves of their pants and boxers, beginning to maneuver you expertly. Nam-gyu grabs a hold of your ankles, spinning you horizontally across the bed. Thanos is then gripping your wrists and pulling you towards him, your head hanging off the bed.

You’re looking at him upside down as his tattooed hand begins to fist his hard cock over your face, his other hand reaching down to slap one of your breasts sharply then grabbing at the flesh. You’re whining out looking up at him, his grin is nearly sadistic as you know what’s about to come next.

Since this arrangement has been going on for a long while now, they’ve come to have favorite positions for both of them to use you in. It was a long and arduous task to try and find the happy neutral ground. Hey! No one ever said having two boyfriends was easy work.

This position happened to be one they compromised on. Thanos loved seeing the imprint of his cock sliding in and out of your throat, he loved being able to choke you. And Nam-gyu loved nothing more than to be able to see your cunt stretched out around your cock and your tits bounce as he fucked you. And you? Well, you were getting absolutely destroyed by them either way so you were just happy they found something that they didn’t have to fight over.

You feel the bed shift under the weight of Nam-gyu crawling back onto the bed. He’s kneeling between your legs, hands reaching down to your hips to lift you up, your legs resting limply over his hips. You can feel the weight of his heavy cock against your stomach. His ring clad hands are running up and down your thighs.

“Been waiting for this all day…could never get enough of this tight cunt…” Nam-gyu growls, looking up to Thanos as he nods in agreement, his hips beginning to move back and forth to grind his cock in the mess that was spread around your cunt and pubic bone. The underside of his dick catching your clit with each motion.

“Best pussy and mouth out there, aren’t we lucky….” Thanos praises, eyes flicking down to you. He quirks up an amused eyebrow when he sees your desperate state, your mouth hung open nice and wide, already waiting for his cock. He releases your breast from his grip, Nam-gyu’s hands now sliding up your stomach to replace them.

Thanos’ hand that isn’t occupied by fisting his cock runs up to your neck, dragging a squeezed hand up the expanse of your throat. “What a greedy slut you are, beautiful..” Thanos mocks, “Just had two men devour your sloppy pussy and now you just can’t wait to get stuffed…”

“Wouldn’t be nice to keep her waiting, would it?” Nam-gyu hums, hand coming to splay itself on your pubic bone, thumb reaching down to flick at your clit. You can feel him begin to rub the leaking tip of his cock between your folds, a breathy falling from your lips.

“Yeahhh…” Thanos grins watching as Nam-gyu teases your cunt, “Wants it bad doesn’t she…” he continues, his thumb pinching at your pert nipple as he lowers his hefty cock to your face, you know exactly what to do. Your tongue lolls out of your mouth beginning to press open mouthed kisses down his thick shaft, lathing your tongue over the hot skin as you twitch against Nam-gyu.

Nam-gyu pushes the tip of his bulbous cock-head into your sopping walls, it’s a stretch you don’t think you could ever be prepared for no matter how many times he’s fucked you. You let out a cracked whine, the blissful fullness of his cock entering you being quickly ripped away as he pulls back out. Maybe it’s some kind of obscure fetish he had, but he loved just sinking his fat cock-head into your tight cunt, watching as you greedily suck him in and consume his tip in a wet, sopping warmth. He’s edging himself while edging you.

Thanos laughs as you moan out, head falling further off the bed as you throw it back in pleasure. “So mean…” he directs at the raven haired man who fucks you shallowly, “She jus’ wants to be stuffed and you’re teasing her..” Thanos says, you can tell he really doesn’t feel bad for you, in fact he likes watching as Nam-gyu rocks into your cunt, he loves being able to see your face twist into a contorted expression of bliss.

“‘M not stopping you from fucking her slutty mouth..fill ‘er up if she’s wants to be stuffed so bad..” Nam-gyu grunts, pulling all the way out and slapping his thick cock against your weeping cunt with a wet ‘plap plap plap’ before beginning to sink back into you.

And only a few moments later, stuffed you are. Thanos is balls deep in your throat, heavy balls hanging over your eyes as he slides his cock in and out of your tight throat. Your face, his balls, and anything in the vicinity is covered in your spit. It’s sloppy. Debauched. Hes thrusting into your throat without abandon, one of his hands coming down to caress your throat feeling the bulge of his thick cock slide down your esophagus. You’re helplessly gagging and moaning around him, fountains of spit bubbling out of your throat- making it all the more sloppy which only urges Thanos to fuck your throat harder. “Takin me so well…letting me use this fuckin’ throat.” He growls, “Can feel how fuckin’ deep I am ohmygod…” he’s hissing, his words punctuated by him grabbing your throat harder, his teeth clenched.

Nam-gyu finally sinks fully into you, wasting no time to begin thrusting into your sopping cunt. It’s damn near violent, every thrust jolting you forward, shoving Thanos’ cock deeper into your throat. All you can do is let out choked muffled moans. “‘Gyu makin’ you feel good, sweetheart?”

You let out a muffled ‘mhm! mhm!” The vibrations making Thanos stiffen. His hand grips harder at your throat, “easy, girl..fuck!…Fuckin do that and I’ll cum too quick” Thanos is growling, beginning to choke you with his hand as his cock stuffs your throat.

Between your legs Nam-gyu’s hips jackhammer into yours at a damn near evil pace. Your pussy is stretched impossibly wide, yet you still grip his thick length with a tightness that could fool him into thinking he’s never ruined your sweet cunt before. It’s one of the reasons he can never get enough. Anytime he draws his hips back a streak of milky-white coats his cock, forming a ring as the base of his dick anytime he slams back into you. He reaches so deep, filling your cunt until you’re moaning out mindlessly, though your sounds come out choked and garbled around Thanos’ cock that’s shoved in your mouth.

Thanos’ hand was still on your throat, his head kicked back as his hips thrust brutally into the tight cavern of your throat. Your tongue sliding along the top of his cock as his tip bullies its way down your throat. You’re gagging and spitting around his length, choked moaned muffled by the thick dick sliding up and down your throat. “F-fuck.” He stutters out in a breathless laugh, a blissful grin stretched across his lips. “Such a good cock sucker, so fuckin sloppy.” He says pulling all the way out of your throat with a sickening wet sound. You’re gasping for air, a messy string of spit coming out of your mouth and connecting your mouth to the tip of his throbbing cock. His hand releases his harsh grip on your throat, hand moving up and down the expanse of your neck in a soothing motion. “Look at you Señorita…” he says in a proud tone, “such a beautiful sight..” he hums.

You then watch from an upside down view as he fumbles for his phone that was on the ground. You se him unlock it and presumably go to the camera app. He comes back closer to you, resting his heavy cock on your face. Your suspicions are proved correct when the flash of his camera flicks on, you only get impossibly righter- clenching around Nam-gyu who lets out a choked, “slut loves to be filmed”

Thanos is pointing the phone down at you as he slides his cock past your pillowy lips. He watches through the phone screen as he sinks deeper into your mouth, you’re gagging around him as he begins to push past the tight ring of your throat. “Mhm…” he mumbles to himself, eyes trained on the bulge that begins to show in your throat on the image displayed on his phone. His hand is back on your throat, squeezing it before trailing down, his phone camera following his movements. He leans over you, his cock sinking deeper into your throat. His hand grips at your tits that bounce with Nam-gyu’s thrusts. He then pans the camera up, catching how Nam-gyu fucks into your cunt.

The corner of Nam-gyu’s bottom lip is caught in his teeth, one of his hands is around your hip, holding you up slightly as he thrusts into you, the other is reaching up to take his hair back and out of his face before dropping back down to his side. The wet sound of skin slapping on skin is resounding through the room, most certainly being picked up by the camera recording you three. Thanos cannot deny how fucking hot the view is that the phone camera captures. He watches on through the screen as Nam-gyu reaches his free up and begins to play with your clit. You sob out in pleasure round Thanos’ cock. The vibrations cause him to nearly fall over, he has to stop his recording abruptly- throwing his phone to the side before pulling out of your throat.

“C’mon man I gotta fuck her cunt.” Thanos nearly begs Nam-gyu. Nam-gyu thrusts into your pussy once more, sinking balls deep in you, wanting to hear you cry out for him without Thanos’ cock muffling the sounds. And that you do, it’s a choked, wracked whine, it’s a cute sound that has both of them groaning in response. Nam-gyu is pulling out of you, looking down to see how your cunt holds the shape of his tick cock for a second before desperately clenching around nothing. “Fine, fine….i wanna feel her choke on my cock too anyway.” The longer haired male is scoffing.

Once again, they’re moving you with a swiftness that leaves you no time to process what position you’re in until you feel the tips of their cocks touch you. You’re on all fours, back arched so prettily. Thanos is behind you painted nails digging into the flesh of your ass as he rocks his dick against you. Nam-gyu is in front of you, one hand gripping the base of his cock as he runs his leaking tip against your lips- smearing his pre-cum on your lips like a new personalized lipgloss- his other hand gripping your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

In tandem they’re sinking back inside you. Your moans muffled by Nam-gyu’s cock. Despite being stretched out by Nam-gyu fucking you previously, you’re were still gripping down on Thanos’ cock like a vice. His hips are drawing back, watching the way your cunt sucks him back into your tight walls. Your eyes look up at Nam-gyu his head tilted back and his mouth hung open singing praises of your name as your tongue swirled around him.

“Still so fuckin’ tight…” Thanos growls, his hips slapping into your ass violently, his painted nails leaving crescent moon shaped imprints in the far of your ass. One of his hands releases its grip to smack your ass, it’s hard and painful, making you sob out and choke around Nam-gyu’s cock. “Dirty fuckin’ bitch.” The male in front of you growls, feeling your moans around his dick when Thanos spanks you. It’s resounding through your head as deep rumble that only makes your eyes roll into the back of your skull.

“Creamin’ all over my fuckin’ cock.” You hear Thanos growl from above you, his thrust becoming rougher, jolting you forward and further down Nam-Gyu’s cock. You feel one of Thanos’ hand grip at one of the globes of your ass, pushing up and spreading you so he can see the mess that is your pussy. Anytime he draws his hips back, sticky strings of your thick arousal coat his thighs and pelvis, dripping down to his heavy balls that slap against your clit with every mind numbing thrust. “Just love getting ruined by two fuckin’ cocks, don’t’cha pretty girl?” Thanos says, and you feel him spit downwards, the warm saliva dripping down the valley of your ass and mixing with the mess between your thighs as he pile drives into you.

Nam-gyu’s hand that holds your tightens, a signal for you to respond. You let out a muffled ‘mhm!’ your eyes fluttering closed and screwing shut as you feel yourself about to cum. Every time Thanos thrusts into you the fat tip of his cock brutally fucks into your g-spot. “Oh you’re close…fuckin milkin’ me” Thanos growls lowly, your eyes are welling with tears at this point. Thanos looks up at the black haired male in front of him, “she already squirted and she still wants to cum again…how fuckin’ greedy.. makin’ us do all the work.” He finishes, one of his hands reaching diagonally across your back to grip at your ass.

“You’re right..” Nam-gyu responds, pushing your mouth impossibly deeper down his shaft, your tongue lapping at his balls. “Make her to the work this time…” And you can hear the smirk in his voice.

Thanos nods in response, his hand coming down to slap your ass, “You heard him. Work for it.” He hisses. “Wanna cum so bad? Fuck yourself on my cock like the slut you are.” The purple haired male finishes in a deep rasp from behind you.

You can do nothing but obey, lest you don’t want to cum. You’re grinding back onto him, looking up at Nam-Gyu as he releases the make shift ponytail he has your hair in and begins to cradle your face in both his hands, “C’mon you can do better than that….” Nam-gyu says lowly, looking down at you, beginning to fuck his cock down your throat, “Don’t you wanna cum? You’re not actin’ like it…” he says, you know it’s a threat.

You begin to fuck your self back onto the purple hairs man behind you, a loud ‘slap’ of wet skin resounds through the room every time your ass connects to the fronts of his thighs, the flesh recoiling against his skin. “That’s it. F-fuck.” Thanos hisses out, his hand on your ass moving with the flesh that jiggles each time you sink him balls deep, “Look at that fuckin’ ass…” he grumbles in a low voice, more to himself than anyone, but Nam-Gyu hums in approval as he watches on, low moans of praise falling from his lips as you suck him down eagerly, moaning around him with more ferocity.

“Yeah…you’re gonna cum, can fuckin feel it, go on make a mess f’me, pretty girl.” Thanos says, his hand wrapping around you to play with your throbbing clit in erratic circles. The stimulation immediately throws you over the edge, you’re clenching down on Thanos’ cock so hard it stills his movements. Nam-Gyu pulls out of your throat, his hand fisting his cock as you gasp, catching your breath. Immediately you’re moaning and whining out, your hips are simultaneously thrusting back onto the thick length in sloppy motions and trying to bring your clit into his fingers.

You’re orgasm sprays out of you in a violent fountain, and Thanos adjusts his hands to grip both of your hips, brutally pulling you back against him and fucking your cum out of you in gushing spurts. You’re sobbing out a mix of their names, babbled and choked as you see stars. Your breath is heaving, you would have fallen down if it wasn’t for the both of them reaching down to hold you up.

And as fucked out as you are, overstimulated beyond belief- you can only think of the fact they have yet to cum. You look at them desperately, like it’s the one thing you truly need to be satisfied after all this. Your adrenaline keeps you coherent enough to keep wanting more. You wouldn’t be satiated until you felt them cum on you or in you- you never were.

They’re working together to pull you off the bed and you follow excitedly, being this position all too many times- it was one of your favorites. As you situate yourself on your knees in front of them and look up at them teary eyed and fucked out- hair matted and sticking to your face and lips swollen from taking both of them in your mouth- they’re fisting their cocks over you, singing praises of your form as you kneel below them.

“So fuckin pretty, cryin’ f’us.” Nam-gyu grunts out, squeezing the tip of his throbbing cock before working to fist the rest of his length. “Such a good girl…knew just what to do…” Thanos mumbles, his words broken by a moan, “fuck…look at you kneelin’ like the good whore ya are.” He finishes. You’re addicted to the way both their fists work furiously against their cocks, each having their own rhythm and particular way of doing it.

“Gonna be a good girl and let us paint y’er face?” Nam-Gyu says, quirking an eyebrow up at you. When you nod and part your lips, sticking out your tongue they both groan. “F-fuck you look so good, wanna record this.” Thanos grunts, Nam-gyu seems to have the same idea as they’re both reaching over and grabbing their phones that were scattered about the bed. They’re quickly returning in front of you, looming over you as they work their hands along their cocks above you.

You look up at them, your face stained with tears, eyes red, puffy and covered in mascara- but you still eagerly await what they’re gonna give you with your tongue out. Your eyes are squinting against the harsh light of the flash from both your phones. It should make you embarrassed that you’re letting them record you in this state but you’re not- you love it.

“Yeeeahhh….” Thanos growls, his hand fisting his cock rapidly, “that’s it pretty girl, you look so fuckin good.” He praises, his voice becoming shaky. You look over to Nam-Gyu who is obviously just as close to cumming, his hand jerking his thick length, using your spit as lube. “Gonna look so fuckin’ good covered in our cum, princess.” Nam-Gyu is hissing out.

You nod, moaning out, wanting nothing more than to be painted by the both of them. Thanos kicks his head back, moaning out your name in a low hiss, his cum beginning to fall to your face in pearly white ropes. Nam-gyu is right behind him, phone in his hand shaking slightly as he jerks his cock over your face.

You can feel the alternating ropes of their warm cum covering your face. Your eyes shutting as you collect what you could on your tongue. You feel a large drop land on one of your eyelids, thankful you closed your eyes, but something about the raunchiness of it just makes you sigh out.

They’re both stepping forward, placing the tips of their cocks on your tongue. Like the good girl you are, you’re eagerly cleaning them up. Tongue rolling between the two thick cocks and taking them into your mouth, you open your one eye- looking up to the camera as you make more of a show of stretching your mouth around the both of them, sucking them both dry.

They’re ending the video and throwing their phones to the ground almost simultaneously, their chests heaving with heavy breaths. When they tilt their heads back down to look at the mess they made, you’re swiping a finger across your face to collect the mix of their cum and suck it off your fingers. You smile up innocently at them and they both groan, smiling down at you.

Nam-Gyu is picking you up off the floor like you’re a rag doll, “you’re gonna be the death of us” he chuckles. He’s throwing you onto his bed and you bounce softly on the plush mattress letting out a giggle. You didn’t even realize Thanos had stepped away until he’s hovering over your face from the side of the bed and wiping you clean with a cool towel.

You can help but giggle and smile as he does it. It’s so odd, they just fucked you like a whore and now they’re doting on you. Nam-gyu is filling up your water bottle that you kept on the bedside table and begging to roll another blunt while Thanos is trying to fight your giggles to keep you still enough to clean you. Something he knows you love after being so completely ruined, it allows you to relax.

They really were the best boyfriends. You really don’t know what you’d do without them and you’re glad that you’re able to see the two varying sides of the both of them.

Buut…They never fail to remind you of their other side of them, the raunchy personalities that originally drew you towards them. Like days later with your out to dinner with your friends and you see they both send a couple videos in your group chat, and you open it unexpectedly to see the most sinful pictures and videos- trying desperately to shield the very obvious image that blares across your screen.

Up next on requests I got another thangyu non-squid games request focused on silky dynamics of the relationship

After that is more thangyu with thick!reader smut. Including double penetration n thick thigh love!

3rd in line we have a namgyu smut with naive! / innocent! Reader >:)

4th we got a new ask for a dead beat baby daddy! Namgyu x reader smut involving hate fucking

As always thank you all for reading and requesting! It’s always so much fun getting to interact with you guys and write them!!! - love always <3 kiwi

[cheeseatlantic]

KNOTS AND GRACE

It started the same way most things did for Simon: silently.

No declarations. No dramatic moment of revelation. Just a lingering glance in the low hum of early morning, the way your shoulders curled in on yourself like tired wings, the deep sigh you exhaled as you stared at your own reflection with dread.

You didn’t say it out loud, but Simon could feel it. How the strands of your hair—once lively and part of your expression—now hung like a weight. Too much to manage. Too much everything.

He watched you tie it back with a trembling hand, loose and lopsided, then abandon the brush entirely when your fingers snagged in a tangle near the nape. The irritation in your eyes made his chest ache. Not because you were angry—but because he could tell you’d been doing it for weeks. Too tired, too overstimulated, too worn down to untangle one more thing.

You didn’t ask for help.

You never did.

But that didn’t stop him.

⸻

He bought the wig online.

A perfect match—length, texture, density. The same subtle wave, the same specific sheen of your real hair. It had taken hours of scrolling and three different sample orders, but eventually, Simon found it.

He didn’t tell you. Not when he signed for the box and quietly slipped it into his office, not when he pulled it out that first night and stared at it like it might grow fangs.

It felt ridiculous at first.

He’d cleaned weapons with his eyes closed. Assembled rifles blindfolded. But this?

A wig. A brush. A comb with teeth so fine it made him squint.

This was intimate. And fragile. Terrifying in ways combat never touched.

But you were worth it.

⸻

He watched YouTube videos in the dark.

Hours of tutorials whispered through his headphones while you slept beside him, limbs heavy with exhaustion. Women and men and animated hands showing how to detangle without ripping strands, how to deep-condition and twist hair for sleeping, how to style with care.

He paused. Rewatched. Practiced with gloves first—then without.

He started simple: washing the wig in the sink with the recommended shampoo. Rinsing gently. Letting it drip dry like something sacred. The first time he brushed it wet, he almost cried when a clump came out.

“Too rough,” he muttered to himself, adjusting his grip.

The next time, he took it slower.

Eventually, it became a ritual.

⸻

Some nights, you’d find him staying up late with a notebook in his lap, scribbling what looked like tactical planning—except the scribbles were sketches of braid patterns and product names underlined twice.

“Work stuff,” he grunted if you asked.

But you knew something was different.

He smelled faintly like argan oil. There were towels missing from the bathroom. And once, you found a tiny butterfly clip in his shirt pocket.

Still, you didn’t push.

Simon would tell you when he was ready.

⸻

The first time he touched your hair with intention, it was gentle.

You’d had a hard day—he could tell before you even walked through the door. Your jaw was tight, your voice low, your hands twitching as you peeled off your coat and sank onto the couch like a puppet with its strings cut.

He didn’t ask what was wrong. He just moved behind you quietly, sat on the arm of the couch, and murmured, “C’mere, love.”

You blinked up at him, eyes already glassy.

He nodded once, opening his hand.

It held a wide-tooth comb.

“I practiced,” he said, voice rough.

And you melted.

⸻

He started slow. One section at a time. Hands firm but careful, tugging gently to detangle, using the exact oil you always ran out of.

You didn’t speak—not because you didn’t want to, but because your throat tightened up the moment his fingers slid through your hair.

He knew how to part it. How to twist without pulling. How to ease out knots with a patience that made your chest ache.

“How long’ve you been doing this?” you whispered.

Simon didn’t answer right away. His breath was steady, his focus deep.

“Long enough,” he said at last. “Just didn’t want to do it wrong.”

Your lip trembled.

He pressed a kiss to your temple without pausing his work.

“I wanted to make it easy for you.”

⸻

After that, it became part of your rhythm.

He washed your hair in the kitchen sink, draped you in towels, and massaged your scalp like he was unraveling tension with his bare hands. He air-dried it with care, fanned it out across your shoulders while he braided or twisted it with methodical grace.

Sometimes, you’d fall asleep like that, half-draped over his legs while he worked in silence. His fingers always steady. His attention never straying.

He never said much when he did it.

Didn’t need to.

Because this was the language Simon Riley spoke best: quiet hands, careful preparation, devotion stitched into the smallest of routines.

⸻

One night, you caught him mid-process.

Not with your hair—but with the wig.

He was hunched at his desk in his office, shirtless, the back of his neck damp with sweat as he twisted section after section under the dim light. His hands were slick with leave-in conditioner, his brow furrowed in quiet concentration.

You didn’t mean to interrupt.

But when you stepped in, he didn’t startle.

He just looked up.

Held your gaze.

And said, “Didn’t want to forget how to do it right.”

The wig sat on a stand. Nearly identical to your own head of hair—except this one wore a loose, intricate braid.

Your throat closed up.

“Simon…”

He set the comb down gently, stood, and stepped close.

“I wanted to be good at it,” he said, voice hoarse. “You shouldn’t have to do it yourself when you’re too tired to hold your arms up.”

You blinked hard. The wig. The research. The oils he’d restocked without asking.

“You learned all this for me?”

He tilted his head. “Of course I did.”

And that was it.

No big speech. No theatrics.

Just Simon, standing in the soft light, love slick on his palms and patience carved into every callus.

⸻

He became your stylist after that.

Not professionally. Not loudly.

But intimately.

He brushed your hair before bed. Wrapped it in silk. Untangled it after long days without complaint. You started to leave your products out on purpose, just to see if he’d notice when something ran low.

He always did.

He even kept a tiny drawer organized by your hair type in the bathroom now—deep conditioners, scalp oils, leave-ins, brushes marked for wet or dry.

Simon Riley: war machine, tactician, lieutenant… and the only man you’d ever trust with your scalp.

And god—he was good at it.

Better than you’d ever dared to be with your own hair.

Because where you rushed, he lingered. Where you winced, he soothed. Where you’d given up?

He learned.

⸻

One morning, you woke up tangled in his arms, hair still wrapped tight and perfect in a protective scarf.

You hadn’t put it on.

He had.

Your heart cracked open a little wider in your chest.

You turned, pressed your face into his throat, and whispered, “You take care of me.”

Simon didn’t open his eyes. Just pulled you closer.

“Always, love.”

⸻

In public, no one knew.

But your hair always looked effortlessly done. Styled. Clean. Braided neatly, edges touched with care.

People complimented you.

You just smiled and said thank you.

You never told them your husband spent nights studying curl patterns or secretly whispered affirmations under his breath as he twisted sections to perfection.

You never told them he kept a small folder labeled “hair refs” on his encrypted hard drive—right next to blueprints for field operations.

You didn’t have to.

Because every brushstroke, every soft rinse, every quiet hand pulling through your curls spoke for him.

A silent language.

Of devotion.

Of protection.

Of love that never asked for recognition.

[imachaoticghost]

Me gusta soñar, me gustas tu

Summary: Timebomb x reader matching things (accessories, clothes, tattoos or etc) because they would like to get married but uh you know (request)

Warnings: no plot, fluff, gn!reader, not proof read

Pairings: Alternate!Powder x reader x Ekko

A/n: since I didn't know if the request was meant for alternate powder or Jinx, I did both. Enjoy!

Alternate! Powder and ekko

I think if they want to get married, but they can't, they'd be the type to have promise rings.

Probably one with either three small gemstones of the colour of each (blue for powder, white or orange for ekko and whatever colour you like) or one with each of your initials engraved (as in EP and your initial)

Powder would probably have it on a chain around her neck, and Ekko either on his finger or in a chain too. Under his shirt probably, to not damage it or lose it.

You're just sipping on your drink, waiting for your two partners in one of the tables of the Last Drop. It's a lazy day, slow, sunny, nothing you wouldn't like to go out in. Vander is cleaning glasses when he notices the ring.

"What's that? Getting married already?" He teases, watching Powder and Ekko come in, light catching on the silver around Powder's necks. It isn't until Ekko puts his hand on the counter that he notices the gems on his finger. "Matching rings hm? Get engaged already" He teases again, serving them their drinks.

Benzo has about the same reaction when he walks in, a playful scowl on his face. "You're too young to be thinking about marriage" He scolds, not so playfully. But you all don't care, simply happy to have matching rings.

Then there's more permanent stuff, for example tattoos

I'd see ekko being a clock, and powder either a raven or some gears. Or then you could have the moon (powder) the sun (ekko) and the stars (you). Anything that is symbolic. The three of you would have the same tattoo with the three symbols.

I don't think they would outright tattoo their partners names on their skin, it feels too... impersonal in a way. Or maybe just not like them.

You were all lounging in Powder's hideout, thinking, talking. "What about tattoos?" You proposed, and immediately ekko started doodling.

"Yeah, maybe we could do like... I don't know, birds?" He chuckled, making various different designs.

When you finally picked your designs, you went to a tattoo artist, giving him a few days to create the stencil. In the end, Ekko chose to have his on his shoulder, and powder on her calf, the three of you showing it off once it was all done.

To be honest, it's probable all of your parents were quite sceptic about the tattoos. But once it was done, it was too expensive to get it off. So no one could do anything else than warn you it might not be a good idea.

It was. You kept it forever.

If they feel more like matching things casually, then there's three options

For clothes they'd probably go off a colour, for dates, for example, today everyone goes with a red item, like a jacket, a dress, etc.

Or maybe color coding, like, everyone wears a red top and a blue bottom.

Or maybe simply pattern matching. Something like that.

"I think we should do blue" Powder argued.

"But I want to wear my red jacket!" You complained. Ekko just laughed at your antics.

"But red doesn't go with my hair" she argued.

"It does, stop being a bitch." You muttered, shoving your red hoodie at her, slipping on your red jacket.

"You're finished?" Ekko mused, red coat already slipped on. "Were going to be late"

Powder pouted, nodding as you tugged her out, on your way to meeting with all of your friends. Everyone stared at the laughing couple you were, but how could you care when your girlfriend was snickering along with your boyfriend?

You could also match a piece of jewellery you would wear every day, so for example some earrings, a bracelet, a necklace, maybe everyone a different one but theme coded.

So let's say you do earrings, powder would be blue, ekko gold. So, you could be wearing sapphire gold earring, or a gold necklace and a blue gemstone.

More than everyone wearing the same piece of jewelry, they'd do like a theme and each wears their partner's theme. So ekko could be wearing a blue earring and a ring with your theme.

Or it vould be a charm more than a colour.

Everyone noticed it, from night to day, all of you had changed the usual jewelry you wore, ekko's plain silver earings had now each a small charm, different. Powder's necklace had, added to the crystal it used to have, two more charms with it. And you wore the same, well, not excatly, they had one you didn't, and you had one each didn't have.

And finally, the third idea I'd have would be key chains or trinkets. Something that reminds you of your two partners. Maybe custom stickers, or a key chain that says E and P, etc

You could have a phone cord made by powder with blue and golden pearls or maybe gears and clock charms, or a special key chain.

And they'd have the same. Of course, you add whatever feels like you to it. So let's say, you're red and roses, you would each make a phone cord or key chain (depending on preference) with blue pearls, mechanical charms, red pearls, rose charms and golden pearls and clock or clockwork charms.

"Wait- put more blue ones" Powded shoved more pearls towards you, your key chain having a majority of gold and your color. "Please" She pouted.

You willingly agreed, chuckling as she shoved the same pearls towards Ekko. "You too, there's almost none" she complained, like a child. Even if the majority of Ekko's was of both of your colours, barely having gold.

"Powder, we're going to end up with all blue ones" He chuckled, amused at her antics.

"Well that's good, everyone needs to known you're my partners." She scoffed, tugging you closer to her.

You ended up with an almost all blue key chain with mostly charms for Ekko and barely anything for you. Not that you were complaining. Now you had both your partners always in your pocket.

You could also wear matching nails, I feel like Ekko would love to paint his nails. Maybe a colour for each partner or the same colour for everyone. Although that feels less like their chaotic energy.

You held Ekko's hands, painting his nails, one blue, one gold, one of your color, another gold and another blue. Powder was besides you, shaking her hands to make them dry faster.

Soft music played in the background, humming along with it. Your nails had been painted by Powder and hers had been painted by Ekko.

"Do you like it?" You asked softly, examination his hands for any flaws in your paint. "It's cute" you hummed.

"I love it. It's really pretty" He chuckled, taking your hand and kissing it. "Like you" he winked.

"You're gonna mess up your nails" You complained, showing them off to powder. "Look, they're gorgeous"

"Like you" she hummed, grinning. They both stared so much you couldn't help but blush.

Jinx and ekko

If we're talking about Jinx, she would probably go the extra mile and get something more than rings, who knows how far that woman would go

If you're not much the extra type, she would do rings, and so would Ekko. Just like alternate timebomb, they would have something matching in the rings

Maybe three stones again, golden, blue and your colour, or maybe more like your three names together, but jinx would probably put yours in the middle

Ekko would just be the type to follow her ideas, as she's a wild card but in the good way. And she's dedicated

"And I mean, worst that can happen is that we have to make it ourselves" she joked, already picking scrap metal. She was going to make it herself, no matter what you would argue.

And then, a few days later, you would have each a ring around your neck, on a chain. Vi would ask her about it, and the firelight's children would definitely ask Ekko. But they would keep it to themselves, just happy to know they have their partners around their neck.

If we're talking tattoos, Jinx would get the biggest tattoo ever for you and Ekko, wherever you ask her to. Ekko would probably get it somewhere more discreet, he doesn't seem like the type to get visible tattoos, it's more something for you and her

The design would be way more attention calling, you could do birds, a raven, an owl and a bird for you, or symbols, her monkey, ekkos clock or gears and whatever you feel like fits you.

Jinx would totally tattoo your name if you ask her to, but ekko would probably tell her it's not the best idea, especially since she is still a criminal and the three of you are often in danger. Giving directly your partners' names isn't the best idea.

She showed up a few days after choosing the design, showing her back and moving her braids aside. "Look toots, I got the tatto" she giggled, showing off a monkey, a clock and your symbol. "It's about time yall get yours" she pouted.

Ekko shook his head, smiling. At least he had managed to convince her to not get your name. She went towards him, throwing herself on his shoulders. "Whatcha mocking me about hm?" She scolded playfully, glancing at your soft smile.

For casual matching, or date matching, jinx isn't the type to own a lot of different clothes, so she would probably add something symbolic of you to her outfit, like, let's say, a clock for ekko (I'm obsessed with the idea of clocks representing ekko) that she would wear every day

Ekko would do the same if you're up for it.

But if we're talking proper clothes matching, Jinx would just steal something, either from you or from piltover. She would do anything to make you and Ekko happy, your wish is her comand. And Ekko would just follow the vibe, he seems like the more passive type for some reason

If we're talking jewelry, Jinx would love to wear matching jewellery for you. Whether it's the same necklace, or a similar one, she says yes immediately.

Ekko might be a bit more difficult, but he would take an alternative. He would never outright refuse to match with you, how could he?

So for example, you could buy a matching set of earrings, necklace and bracelet, or something like that and they would each take one (jixn the necklace, ekko the earrings probably)

"Hey look what I found" you smiled, showing them three pairs of earring, one with a white crystal, one blue and one of your colour.

Jinx immediately threw herself to you, catching the earrings and gushing about them to Ekko. She took one of her colour, helping ekko put it on and begging you to let her. If you didn't have your ears pierced, you better have them pierced now.

Finally we have key chains. Well, I don't think any of them would be the key chain type so they'd probably do more like... charms that they put on their clothes and belts

Maybe something Jinx and Ekko would make for you, or that you make with them. Small trinkets you'd stick on your stuff

Ekko finally finished sculpting the same monkeys that were on his machine. He added a small key ring on top, putting it besides the other two. He just had to make the three clocks now and they would be done. Jinx would love to add the chains He thought.

"Almost done pretty boy?" You kissed his cheek. It was late, you should both be asleep. Jinx was already snoring on the couch, Isha laying in her arms.

"Almost. Go rest, I'll join you later" he murmured back, hugging you and tugging you on his lap. Maybe you should sleep in his arms, while he works.

And nails, jinx would love to do your nails like hers and also ekkos if he let's her. Just imagine, jinx seeing you wear her colours, I think she would be so happy and proud.

If not maybe Ekko would help you do your nails and you'd do his the same way, and you'd beg Jinx to let you do hers too.

I think that would be cute, that the three of you do each other nails, and make matching little designs and stuff

She was giggling like a school girl, painting your nails the same colour as hers. Your back was against Ekko's chest, his legs on either side of you, his arms around you.

As soon as Jinx finished painting all of your nails you pulled her in, wrapping your legs and arms around her, pressing her back against your chest. And that's how you spent the rest of the evening, all cuddled up.

Something else Jinx would love to match would be stuff in your hair. If you have it long enough to braid, she's sticking stuff into yours and Ekkos hair before you even know about it

Maybe just the same golden stuff she has or maybe actual little trinkets and charms that she made or found

"Your hair is so pretty you know that?" She murmured, braiding your hair, adding the same golden charms she had added into her hair and into Ekko's. "So soft, so shiny, how do you do it?" She pouted a bit.

Ekko watched her with a smile, adding the same charms to her own braids.

A/n: my phone hates me and I think this isn't the right version. But have it anyways because I will not proof read this. I'm sleep deprived and I have to sleep. I hope you like it ;)

Likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated, all rights reserved.

[angel-writes-skz-here]

Seduction

Prof! Minho x Student! Reader Synopsis: After meeting your new Professor and previous one night stand, you take your game of seduction to a new level, but when jealousy, and feelings that can't be easily explained arise, you take matters into your own hands and consequences soon follow. Warnings: Slight smut, bj in public (no one see's), cursing, cold Minho. A/N: I hope you lovelies enjoy! I'm super excited to write part 3, so if you don't want to miss it, comment below to be added to my tag list. Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Risks

Over the next month and a half, Minho notices his student’s behavior, short skirts, so short they’d almost get her dress coded. Bending down in front of him to give him a show of her cleavage, but he refused to give her a reaction. During a presentation she even bent down just behind the podium, feigning to pick up a pencil, ass in the direction of his desk, just to show him she had on a pair of pretty pink panties, and the smirk she shot him right before she started, oh how he wanted to fuck it off her face. Yet still, gripped the edge of his desk as he looked to the screen and the class went dark, except for the large screen, as her words wrapped around him. During the same presentation, his eyes would flit to her, and if she could feel his eyes, she’d lift her skirt just a little, still concealed by the podium, and he’d get a peak as part of her ass cheeks. Minho only bit his lip and tried to remain focused.

She brought in a water bottle just the other day, spilling some of it, dampening the white shirt she wore, without a bra. She’d constantly chew on the end of her pencil as she gave him those ‘fuck me’ eyes. At first, he thought she was deep in thought, until he went to pass out a sheet of paper the second day he started noticing the pattern and she stared into his soul as he counted the sheets out right in front of her, not caring who seen or knew she had a crush on her professor.

Minho’s patience and resolve was slowly thinning. He knew she’d try something today. He just knew she would.

His class begins to file in and chatter continues, then he spots you, signature short skirt, small top that’s barely passing dress code, and a little lollipop in your hand. Minho internally groans. How much more could he take?

He didn’t know, but it wasn’t much. And that’s what y/n was counting on.

He begins his lesson on the Hawthrone effect. As he begins to talk, he catches sight of his special student, smirking as she bats her lashes and pulls the wrapper off her lollipop. Minho’s jaw ticks, something you catch.

You smirk to yourself, hearing his voice stutter once as he looks out in the crowd of students. Your eyes connect for a moment, your tongue flicking out over the cherry flavored candy.

“So as you can see, the nature of the observed can obstruct true data vs if the observed is unaware that they are being watched. We all do certain things differently when we think we aren’t being watched and vice versa.”

Minho’s eyes are glued to your tongue, despite how quickly his own is moving as he talks and doesn’t miss a beat. He can feel the tightening in his pants, but pushes through. He goes through a few examples, and once you’ve written two or three down in your notes, you’ve finished the lollipop, but with all that licking and sucking your makeup needs touching up, or your lip gloss does at least.

You pull out the compact from your bag along with your lip gloss, opening the tube carefully. Minho glances up at the noise of your zipper and his eyes watch you for a moment, causing a brief unnatural pause in his lesson before clearing his throat and continuing. His eyes to flit you, watching as you apply the sticky sheer coating on your lips, mushing them together and popping them quietly to spread it evenly across them.

Once you can’t apply anymore you put your things away, deciding to pay attention to the last ten minutes of class.

“There will a test on this next week, study your notes thoroughly,” he ends with. You smile to your self as you can see him loosen his tie, and you swear you seen a bulge in his brown slacks. Satisfied with yourself you pack up your things to leave. As you step out of the room you get a naughty idea and smile to yourself as you meet up with Duri to grab a bite to eat.

“You can’t be serious? Professor Lee? Isn’t he like, a hard ass?” You shrug at your friend’s question.

“I don’t know, I think he’s a challenge.” You wink and smirk as you take a bite of your French fry.

“You do know he’d never sleep with you, right?”

“He did once,” you think to yourself as you look down at your food.

“He’s an esteemed professor at this school; there’s no way he’d throw his teaching credentials and whole career out the window for you.”

“We’re both consenting adults.” You reason.

“Y/n, you’re 18,” Duri begins.

“19 in six weeks,” you remind her. She nods. Duri had friends at a fraternity and had convinced them to host a birthday party for you, helping you further socialize and make the most of your time here.

“I’m just saying, I know he’s hot, but I wouldn’t waste my time.”

“Duri, I know it’s not ethical,” you begin.

“It’s completely and totally against the rules,” she adds.

“But,” you cut your eyes at her, “I think if he gave me a chance he’d see I can make him happy. I mean, who knows maybe we’d even date,” you snicker at the idea. Duri gives you a glare, and you chuckle more.

“I’m kidding,” you wave it off.

After the two of you eat, you check your watch and see that it’s almost 5 pm.

“Shoot I gotta go. I’ll see you later though?”

Duri smiles, slightly shaking her head, as you wave to her running off in the direction of Professor Lee’s office. You smooth down your skirt and try to calm your thrumming pulse. You go to knock on Minho’s door, but it’s cracked and you don’t see him in there. You decide to sit down and wait patiently.

5 minutes.

10.

15.

Just as 20 minutes goes by, his office technically closed, you hear his voice. You can’t help the butterflies in your stomach, being alone with him, teasing him, it was all too much fun.

“Come on in, my office is closed, so we’ll be safe,” you hear him say and your eyes grow wide. You check your phone once more.

Thursday. His office is closed on Thursdays.

Fuck.

Fear and anxiety rock you. Would he get pissed you mixed up the days? With all rationale gone, you dive under his desk, praying that he doesn’t go to sit behind it.

The door clicks shut, and you can hear a female giggle. Your heart aches with jealousy. She’s why he won’t pay attention to you in class.

You hear them kiss, “Mm, Minho,” she breathes out. Your mind races at the sound of the familiar voice.

“Hana,” he responds moaning her name. Your eyes grow wide.

Your math teacher?

You shake from the violent storm of emotions. And you see a button up shirt tossed into the chair across from the desk. Your stomach knots as you recognize his shirt.

It’s not long before you hear the sound of skin slapping against skin, moans that you can’t block out and the way he curses, you can only image if he’s holding her like he did you that first night you met.

No he was probably holding her like he cared. He was right, it was frivolous one night stand. But that didn’t stop your jealousy. You’re determined to prove to him you aren’t some frivolous little girl. You’re grown and can make him feel everything she can. And maybe more.

You hear the desk creak as her laugh rings out more, before it starts to move above you. Your face twists in disgust. Not at the action, but that it’s her it’s being done to. You cover your mouth, trying to control and quiet your breathing, despite the fact that her own would drown you out. The afternoon feels as though it’s going to last forever.

Finally, you hear the rustling of clothes being put back on, Minho’s arm reaching on the back of the chair, not coming into view enough to see you. You put your hand over your mouth, feeling a damp spot near the side of it.

Tears.

Tears?

“What the fuck am I crying over?” you ask yourself. Had it really mattered that much to you? All you wanted was for him to admit he wanted you as bad as you wanted him, and to do something about it every now and then.

“I’ll see you tomorrow? Same time?”

“We’ll see, I have my office hours tomorrow. So, I’ll let you know.” He says ambiguously.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go out for dinner? It’s late,” she tries.

“I really have to get some things finished up here, but I’ll call you, ok?” you hear him kiss her goodbye and you notice the chair roll out like he’s going to sit down, but as the door clicks, he pushes the chair up, caging you in under the table. Once he’s confident she’s gone he shuts off the light to his office and leaves the university.

You sit in the dark under his desk, processing it all before, an unfamiliar ache and disappointment feeling in your heart. Then an idea strikes you. Minho had mentioned a meeting in his room tomorrow. Duly noted.

-

The next day you skip your math class, not wanting to see your teacher or answer Duri’s questions about how you meeting went. Instead, you slip into Minho’s classroom; thankful he was gone.

You dip under the desk, the tile cold against your bare legs. Just as you get settled as deep against the wooden desk as you can, you hear voices on the other side of the room.

“I’m sure we’ll be able to figure it out,” you hear an unrecognizable voice say. They all get seated, Minho in his desk chair, completely unaware of your presence.

The meeting begins, and they start droning on about test scores, things to add or take away from the curriculum, and a bunch of other teacher things you aren’t interested in, not until you notice the lights dim down, and the projector turn on. You smirk to yourself knowing this is the perfect time as the sound on the video booms through the speakers.

You place your hands on his lap, gently.

“Whaa!” Minho hollers as he jumps back, earning looks from everyone, the video stopping. He looks totally panicked, until he see’s your eyes under his desk with a cheeky smile plastered on your lips.  His face hardens, chest rising and falling, but you bat your lashes, sure of yourself that you can make him happy.

“Is everything all right, Professor Lee?”

“Yes, my apologies. I thought I saw a large spider on my desk, but it must have been something else. Please, resume with the video.” Everyone looks to one another before focusing their attention back to the projector on the wall beside his desk.

Minho hesitantly sits back down, your hands running up his legs. He grits his teeth, as your hand ghosts over his crotch. He takes a shaky breath as you start to palm him through his pants. You can feel him shift in his seat, you give him the ability to push you away, but you’re met with no resistance. You squeeze him, earning a low growl from him.

You make quirk work of unzipping his pants, and he brings the chair as close to the under neath of the desk as possible.

You pull out his hard cock, licking your lips before spitting on the tip of it, moving your hand languidly up and down. Minho’s body stiffens, eyes close and he holds back a moan as your hand moves. His hips lift in the chair slightly.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, watching the others cattycorner from him, trying to be sure they aren’t paying attention to him.

His fingers bite into the desk when he feels your hot, wet mouth attach to him. His knuckles are white from the sheer strength of his grip. His tongue is between his teeth as he tries to keep himself quiet. His mouth falls open as he feels your moist tongue lick around his head, teasing his slit, causing his hips to involuntarily buck. You aren’t sure how much longer the video has so you pick up the pace, wanting to taste him.

His knuckles stay white as he feels the tension in his stomach build, forcing his eyes to the screen to the side of him, one of his hands slipping under the desk to put a buffer between your head and the top of the table.

Aww, how sweet.

Just as the video plays the ending music, he cums, hard, fast and hot down your throat. Minho can feel the sweat on the back his neck and forehead. You swallow it all, every last drop of him and help him put himself back in his pants, just as the lights flash on his arms are resting on the desk, face slightly flushed.

Their conversation continues on for another few minutes.

“My class will be arriving soon, we can finish this discussion on Monday.” Minho says as he tries to usher the group out of the room. You hear the door shut, and come out from the under the desk.

Minho spins on heel and notices your smirk.

“Thanks for curing my thirst, Professor Lee,” your drips with seduction as he leans next to you to get something off his desk. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t speak to you.

“Wow, not even a thank you,” you say amused, but surprised it hasn’t gotten his attention. Minho’s teeth grind, it wasn’t that he didn’t want it, he’d been thinking about you the same way you’d been thinking about him, that’s why he didn’t push you away, but he knew how risky it was and how this was nothing but a game to you.

A game he wasn’t interested in playing.

“What you aren’t even going to speak to me anymore?” You ask a little infuriated. He stays silent, ruffling through papers.

“Fine,” you huff as you take your seat, staring him down. He can feel it, but class goes on, as if you hadn’t just been under his desk giving him the best blow of his life. You notice he won’t look at you, he won’t call on you even when you raise your hand during class. You grow slightly frustrated.

The next school day it’s the same routine. No eye contact, he won’t call on you. But he does call you out for chewing gum.

“Y/n!” He snaps, causing others to gasp and jump as the bubble blowing from your lips pops.

“No gum! As a matter of fact, no gum, no candy no food or drink, except water. Now go spit it out!” his tone is harsh, scary almost. You look around and all eyes are on you as you slowly get up and stalk over to the trash can. You move your hair with both hands and spit the gum in the trash.

“Now return to your seat and do your work,” he says sternly. You look ahead of you, trying not to hang your head or show that his scolding affected you.

The next weekend goes by quickly, frat parties, drunken college kids, then hungover college kids, and studying being done.

You’re in math class with Duri when she finally asks.

“So, what happened with Professor Lee? You keep brushing it off.”

“It’s a long story.” you whisper.

Your eyes narrow at your teacher at her desk.

“What?” she whispers noticing your eye movements.

“I can’t exactly tell you how I know, but Professor Yung and Professor Lee are sleeping together,” you whisper.

She gasps.

“No way!”

“Shhh,” you whisper.

“Ladies, please make sure to get your work done,” she scolds. You roll your eyes, jealousy once again taking over you.

-

Over the next two and a half weeks Minho doesn’t seem interested in your attention, or your presence for all that matter. You didn’t skip classes but it’s as if you didn’t exist. You turned in great assignments, one’s he took points off of for miniscule, splitting hair, reasons.

 Today you got your grade back on your essay about Freud. You grit your teeth as he hands your paper back, unhappy with the failing grade.

“Professor Lee,” you ask as soon as the bell rings. He walks back to his desk and you take your paper up to him.

“Can you explain to me what’s wrong with my paper please? I worked very hard on this.” You stand in front of his desk.

“You’ll see the annotations on each page.” He says without looking away from his computer. You sigh.

“I would like to hear it from you.” You voice but he doesn’t respond.

“If you’re mad about what happened just say that.”

No response.

You feel anger rise up within you.

You sigh and leave the desk in a huff. You meet Duri after class sitting down with her in the cafeteria.

“Wait why did he fail you?”

“Look at this shit. I put hard work into the psycho sexual stages portion, mind you hours of research, \ and he just marks through it like it’s nothing.”

“Oh my god! Are you fucking… ugh!” you groan. You read his notation.

“Genital age: Sexual urges return, and individuals develop an interest in the othersex. He took off points because I didn’t say opposite sex. I said ‘the other’ sex. It’s the same fucking thing. That’s what he did with most of it. Took off points for the way I worded them when it means the same thing. This is stupid and I want an explanation.” You stand up, marching to his office. You don’t knock, just push the door open, only to be met with your math teacher between his legs before she scrambles.

“Nothing I haven’t seen or felt before lady.” You say to yourself.

“Ms. Y/n what on earth are you doing barging into my office.”

“If you don’t want quickies interrupted you should do it on your off time. Or at least put her under your desk.” You smirk and his eyes burn.

“Young lady,” your math teacher goes to scold.

“I want an explanation to my paper!” you say moving past her, shoving it against his chest. He looks at you, a brow cocked, his demeanor cool and composed.

“It wasn’t good.” He explains.

“If this is about what I did-,”

“Hana, give us a minute please.” Minho interrupts. She sighs but leaves the room.

“That’s what it is, isn’t it? You’re pissed at me, for whatever reason, and now you’re failing me? How the fuck is that fair?”

“No, I failed you because the paper was shit,” he bites.

“I’ve been kind to you and your work due to our tiny amount of shared history, trying to give you an opportunity to see that I see you as just a student but you won’t move on, so I’m not treating you any differently.”

“So that’s why anytime you say my name it’s because I’m in trouble? You’re mad that you liked it?”

“I’m mad that it was inappropriate as hell! You could have gotten me fired! I’m mad that you won’t listen to me!”

“All you had to do was push me off and I would’ve left you alone.” You fire back.

“So if I had asked you to leave three weeks ago when you hid under my desk and heard me fucking your math teacher you would’ve left?” He crosses his arms over his chest and watches as your face goes a deep shade of red.

“W-what I,” you stutter as your bottom lip trembles ever so slightly.

“Wh-wh-wha,” he mocks and rolls his eyes.

“I smelled your fucking perfume.” He bounces himself off the desk pushing past you to sit in his chair.

“Why do you think I threw my t shirt on the chair?” his laugh is sarcastic, cold. Your heart shatters, anger and frustration bubbling up.

“Fuck you,” you say through tear filled eyes. You blink away the tears quickly.

“You already did.” He responds like it’s nothing.

“So you feel nothing for me? You don’t want me at all?” you ask, voice cutting and sharp.

“You know what I feel?” he asks and by his tone you can tell you don’t want the answer.

“Disgusted. I never should have fucking touched you that night. I never should’ve followed you to the dance floor and let your little vixen voice convince me it was a good idea to pull you into that bathroom and use you. Y/n that’s all it was, I used you for my own personal release. Because that’s all you were good for.” His smile is evil as he see’s the words sinking in.

You hang your head at his words. And he clenches his jaw before walking back to his desk.

“And if you ever pull another pull another stunt with me or any other teacher like that again, I will be forced to fail you and report you for sexual harassment and you will be forced to go home.” You look at him horrified.

“Minho, I’m sorry-”

“Professor. Lee.” He seethes through clenched teeth. You sigh frustrated.

“Professor Lee I’m sorry.” You whine, attempting to move around his desk, apology sincere, but the daggers he shoots you with his eyes warn you not to move.

“Leave my office.” He speaks.

“Now.”

Tags: @breakmeoff @thatonegirlonhere @thelovelybireader @channieehrtz @voicesinmyhead-rc

Do not repost my work

Love notes and comments are greatly appreciated!

[writing-girlie]

Caretakers Confession

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Reader

Blurb: After Joaquin gets injured you take it on yourself to look after him.

Warnings: Love confession, terrible flirting

You met Joaquin a few years back, courtesy of Sam Wilson. You were both young, sharp, and still figuring out how to live with the weight of responsibility that came with the superhero gig. Maybe that’s why you clicked so quickly. Same age. Same edge. Same experience.

You and Joaquin became partners in the field more often than not—your skill sets matched almost too well. You looked out for each other’s blind spots. knew how to read each other with a glance. While off mission, you began to hangout as well. Takeout containers on the couch and some awful movie playing in the background.

Then came the mission. Nothing out of the ordinary, to be done just as you’ve done before. That’s how it always goes. It’s routine, until it wasn’t.

The ambush came fast. Gunfire splits the air, and the smoke is thick. You didn’t even see the grenade at first but he did. You turned to him but it happened too quickly, his body collided with yours. The blast tore through the air and he took the brunt of it.

You got him out. Somehow. You don’t remember all of it. Just the weight of him slung over your shoulder, blood seeping into your shirt, your lungs burning as you dragged him and the sound of his breathing going too shallow. 

He spent three days in the hospital unconscious before he woke up. You didn’t leave, not once, even past visiting hours you refused to go.

You’re sitting in the large chair by his bed replaying the memory wondering what you could've done differently. A few tears prick at your eyes and roll down your cheeks. You hold his hand with a soft grip, tracing random patterns onto his skin.

"You crying over me, cariño?" he rasped, voice barely there but still wearing that familiar crooked grin. Tears sat heavy in your eyes and before you could stop yourself, you were up and burying your face against his shoulder; gentle, careful not to jostle the wires or put pressure on the bruises or stitches. 

“You scared the hell out of me, idiot,” you muttered. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

"What? And let you get blown up? Yeah, no thanks.”

The next week is spent in the hospital. Joaquin complains about everything except your presence, grumbling about the food, and the scratchy blankets. He makes sure you take care of yourself, urging you to go home, shower, eat a proper meal, and get some real rest. 

When the doctors clear him for discharge, he jokes about finally escaping, but you see the wince he tries to hide just from standing.

Now he’s home. His stitches are still fresh, bandages wrapped tight, and bruises that are deep purple. And because you know him–know that stubborn streak–you don’t trust him not to test the limits of his recovery. Not even a little. So you temporarily move in. Just until he's better. 

You get him set up on the couch, shoving a pillow behind his back. He hisses a little, then sighs as the relief kicks in. You tell him to call out if he needs anything while you grab him a drink and medicine before unpacking his hospital bag. Once you've finished with that you move quietly through his apartment, cleaning. It's not necessarily messy but it doesn't hurt and you don't mind, it keeps you busy.

You walk into the lounge room and pause, just looking at him. He's lying on the couch, one arm tucked under his head, the other resting across his bare torso. The blanket you had thrown over him earlier was now on the floor. You let out a breath that you didn't realise you were holding and walk across the room, picking up the blanket, draping it on his lap. You sit on the edge of the coffee table, in front of him. Without thinking, you reach for his hand, brushing your thumb across his knuckles. 

“You’re such an idiot,” you whisper, not unkindly. “Could’ve died playing hero.” You look down to where your hands connect. “But you matter to me. More than maybe I’ve ever said out loud. I know you were trying to protect me. But you almost didn’t come back. And I don’t think I could’ve—” Your voice falters and you blink to relieve the slight burn in your eyes. 

“Hey” You flinch at the sound of his voice, your eyes darting up to his. “Didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” he rasps. “But if this is your version of a love confession, you might wanna work on the delivery.” You softly scoff at him while shaking your head. You start to pull your hand away, embarrassed, but his grip tightens just slightly. 

“I heard what you said,” he murmurs. “And I don’t think you’re wrong. I can be reckless” You glance back at him. “But I’d do it again,” he adds. “If it meant you’d walk away okay.” A lump forms in your throat, but you push it down. 

“Yeah, Alright hero” You clear your throat, breaking the moment that felt too intimate for two friends. What do you want first; food, or a sponge bath?”

“Sponge bath?” His brows rise. 

“I figured you might be too sore for a real shower. But if you want to try sitting in there, I'll set that up.”

“Tempting” He says flatly before he starts to smirk. “But now that you’ve said ‘sponge bath’ out loud, I feel like it’d be rude not to take you up on it.” You shake your head, trying not to smile. 

“Okay, don’t get too excited” You get up and gather the supplies you need. When you return, he’s removed the blanket from his lap. You place the bowl of warm water onto the table and the towel over the back of the couch. You wring the cloth out then sit on the arm of the couch, body turned to face him.

You press it to the crook of his neck, wiping it across to his shoulder and down his arm, his muscles tense slightly and he closes his eyes. You repeat it on the other side before going over his chest, moving with gentleness, not wanting to cause him a single moment of pain, softly over the bruises and carefully around the stitches.

When you finish that you cross your arm over his torso, leaning him forward to wash his back. One of his hands wraps around your forearm firmly to ease some of the pain. You lean him back against the pillow and stand up.

“Alright,” You wring out the cloth again. “I’ll do your legs, but anything under those boxers is strictly a solo mission.”

“What, no full-service treatment?” He jokes. You roll your eyes, kneeling beside the couch. 

“Don’t push your luck” Your hands move carefully as you start to ease down the waistband of his sweats. He watches you as your hand moves steadily down one of his legs then the other. Silence had covered the moment and you didn't look up at him, not when you could feel him watching you.  It's not uncomfortable, there's just no need for words. When you finish, you place the cloth back into the bowl and stand.

“You could stay,” he says, the corner of his mouth twitching with the hint of a grin. “You know… for moral support. While I handle the rest.” You arch a brow at him, amused. 

“I’m not falling for that.”

“Didn’t think so,” he murmurs.

You lean down and press a kiss to his cheek. It's soft, but lingers just enough. When you stand up he has that charming confused smile on his face. 

“Do you kiss all your injured friends?”

“Only the ones who talk too much” He lets out a breath with a laugh, shaking his head slowly.

“Guess I’ll keep running my mouth, then."

“That’s one way to guarantee I stop taking care of you.”

He chuckles, resting his head back against the couch. “You’d miss me.”

You pause in the doorway, glancing over your shoulder. “Keep talking and we’ll find out.”

"You say that like you wouldn't drop everything the moment I so much as wince." Hes says, confidently, knowing he’s right

“Maybe next time I won’t, ya know, just to prove a point” You narrow your eyes at him playfully.

“Admit it! You like taking care of me.”

“I liked it better when you were unconscious.” You turn and walk into the kitchen.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The next day you’re kneeling in front of him, fingers grazing lightly over the edge of his bandages and checking his stitches. Joaquin watches you, lips slightly parted. His shirt is off, in fact he hasn’t had one on since the moment you two entered his apartment yesterday.

Your brows knit in concentration as you lean closer, your breath is warm against his skin.

“You’re hovering.”

“I’m inspecting,” you reply flatly.

“Just for medical reasons?” he teases, one eyebrow arching.

“Yes.” You glance up. “Unlike you, I take your recovery seriously.” You had caught him earlier leant against the wall, wincing, after trying to get to the kitchen.

“Just checking,” he says, voice low. “Didn’t want to assume you were using this as an excuse to get your hands on me.”

You don’t even blink. “You’re not that irresistible.” He chuckles, clearly enjoying himself.

“You sure? You’ve been on your knees in front of me for a while now. You’re not enjoying this even a little?” You tape down the final edge of the bandage and sit back on your heels, looking up at him. “Cause I really don’t mind you being between my legs like this.” 

“Careful. One more comment and I’ll push your pain meds back an hour” He laughs at your threat.

“I mean it though,” he says, a little quieter now. “I like this. You. Here. With me”

Your heart jumps slightly. You glance away and close the first aid kit, the soft click of the latch is the only sound.

“Well, I don’t usually take care of people like this,” you say, talking about all of it, everything you're doing for him.

“But you’re doing it for me.” He tilts his head. You finally look back up at him.

“Yeah” You nod slowly. “Guess you’re my exception.” You get up, putting the kit on the table. 

“Does that mean I'm special?” You glance over at him. He doesn't have that cocky smile, he's genuinely asking.

“Don't let it go to your head”

“Hmm, Too late.” You try to hold back a laugh and shake your head. You don't reply,  you just pick up the rubbish and equipment you used, placing them on the table. “Do you like me?” You freeze. You look at him in silence before turning back to what you were doing, hoping that that is enough for him to drop it. 

“I'm recovering from a traumatic injury. Don't I deserve an answer?” he sighs dramatically. You look down at him. 

“Yes. I like you.” He smiles, and his eyes light up before he squints. 

“Wait! Like ‘You're fun to be around’ like me or-”

“God, Joaquin!” you cut him off. 

“I need clarity” He defends himself. You take a step forward, back in between his legs and lean down. You cup his chin, making him look up at you.

“I like you” You say slowly, enunciating each word. “In a way that involves butterflies and my heart rate spiking and wondering if I'm being too obvious when I check in on you every ten minutes.”

His face goes blank for a second before he blinks a few times in rapid succession. 

“Oh. Wow. Okay. That’s- okay, just for the record, I had a theory, a tiny one, microscopic even, right? Like a ‘maybe she likes me’ theory, but then I figured there’s no way, because you’re you and I’m a bit of an idiot sometimes.”

You can't help the giggle that escapes as he rambles. When he stops he just looks up at you, a small moment of silence sits between you.

“You like me.” He grins, full and boyish now, like he can’t stop it.

“Yeah, We've established that.”

“Can you say it again?” You softly push him away.

“I like you” You stand up straight. “I'm gonna get your meds” You walk off towards the kitchen. 

“Wait” You turn back. “Can we watch a movie or something? I just wouldn't mind you being close for a little bit.”

“Yeah, I'd like that. You can pick.” He grabs the remote and you grab his meds. You come back with them and some water handing them to him. 

“This caretaker thing’s kinda hot on you.”

"You’re the worst patient I’ve ever had." You say while getting comfy. Halfway through Joaquin falls asleep with his head on your shoulder and you don't move until well after the movie is done and he wakes up himself. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The next day you're in the kitchen, doing some cleaning while Joaquin was resting then you hear him behind you, at the entry of the kitchen. He breathes deeply, trying to fight back the pain.

“What did I say about getting up without me?”

“I got bored,” he says with a shrug. "Wanted to see you"

“You’re not supposed to be on your feet.” Your voice is a higher pitch from him stressing you out. He disregards what you say, his eyes drifting down.

“You look good in my shirt” You look down. His shirt hanging loosely over you. His gaze lingers for a moment too long before he looks you in the eyes again. 

“Can I do something reckless?”

“Well you’re already breaking one rule, moving around without help, so what’s next? Push ups? Trying to fly?” You say that sarcastically, hoping you weren’t giving him any ideas. He huffs a laugh but doesn’t say anything right away. 

“Kissing you.” You stare at him and the confidence he had evaporates. When you don’t answer right away, he starts to ramble. “That was stupid,” he says quickly, waving a hand like he can wipe it from the air. “Forget I said that. I didn’t mean it like that. I mean- I did, but I didn’t mean to say it. Painkillers. Probably still concussed. I’m just… talking. Ignore me.”

“Yeah, okay” You say with false belief, voice soft. Then, without giving him a chance to backtrack or talk himself out of it again, you kiss him.

It’s slow. A soft press against his lips, which are a little hesitant at first. Then he softens into it, his hand instinctively finding your waist. Your lips mold together perfectly, like you'd done this plenty of times.

When you pull back, his lips are parted and his eyes search yours like he’s trying to figure out if that really just happened.

“I didn't just imagine that, right?” he asks, voice rough around the edges.

“No” I giggle. “That was real.”

“You’re gonna regret giving me the green light,” he says, a dazed smile still on his face. “Because now I want to do that again.”

[universefcb]

THUNDER, PAU CUBARSÍ.

→ Summary: Your family and his family are friends, and then decide to go on a vacation together. But it starts to rain and you are afraid, and you have no one to turn to except Cubarsí.

→ Warning: Mention of Reader. Fluff. Romance.

→ Author's note: First fic of the Pau Cubarsí marathon.

And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.I hope this is what you asked for!

The Greek sky during the summer was usually clear, tinged with blue and gold, reflecting the waters that lapped the islands. But that night, as if the universe itself wanted to test one’s nerves, everything was covered in dark clouds. Lightning streaked across the sky in a zigzag pattern, and thunder made the ground vibrate subtly.

She lay in her bed, the white sheets pulled up to her chin, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. The clock on the nightstand read 1:43 a.m. The sound of the rain beating against the balcony windows was constant, and although for most it would be a relaxing sound, for her, it was enough to send chills down her spine. Ever since she was a child, storms had evoked an inexplicable fear in her—something between irrational and inevitable.

She tried to distract herself. She put on her headphones, tried to listen to a calming playlist. She read a few pages of the book she had in her suitcase. Nothing worked. And when a particularly loud thunderclap made the pictures in the room shake, she sat up in bed with her heart racing.

“Irene.” She whispered to herself. The room next door belonged to Pau Cubarsí's sister, her friend since childhood. Irene would certainly understand her, or at least offer her company until the rain stopped.

Wearing only cotton shorts and a loose T-shirt, she grabbed her room key and walked out into the hallway with silent steps. The yellow light from the wall lamps cast shadows on the closed doors. She knocked lightly on Irene's door. Once. Twice. Three times.

Nothing.

She turned the doorknob. It was locked. She tried to insist by knocking harder. “Irene… open it, please.” No answer. She sighed, frustrated and a little more scared. With each new bang, she felt her body shrink.

He thought about his parents. They were in the hotel restaurant with Pau’s parents. They had mentioned that they were having a special dinner and that they would probably be back late. It was time to enjoy it without their children, they said with a smile.

Without many options, she stood there in the hallway, her bare feet on the cold floor and her heart beating fast.

That's when he noticed the door next door.

No longer.

She hesitated. They weren’t exactly close, but they’d known each other forever. Their families were very close, and that made it all the more…inevitable. They’d spent many summers together when they were kids, and now, even as teenagers—almost adults—they still talked from time to time. They’d exchanged jokes by the pool earlier, laughed together on the boat ride. But sharing a room with him? Would that be weird?

In the silence of the hallway, she heard a muffled sound coming from inside his room. Low music. Voices—TikTok. He was awake.

He bit his lower lip, took a deep breath, and knocked gently.

Seconds later, the door opened a crack. One of Pau's eyes peered through the opening, sleepy, confused.

“Hola?” he said, his voice husky and low. (Hello?)

“Sorry… to wake you up,” she said quickly, feeling her face heat up. “I… I’m scared of the storm. I tried Irene, my parents, but no one answers or is in the room. I just… wanted to know if I could stay here with you. Just until the rain stops.”

Pau frowned for a second. But then he opened the door a little wider. He was wearing shorts, no shirt, his hair was messy and his cell phone was still in his hand, showing a paused live stream.

“Sure. Come in.”

She walked in hesitantly. The room had the same layout as hers—double bed, balcony, low lighting. The only difference was the light mess of clothes and headphones on the armchair and the woody scent that seemed to be his alone.

“Sorry again,” she mumbled, stopping next to the bed. “I know it’s weird.”

“It’s not weird.” He gave a small smile. “You’re just scared… And I get it. That thunder is creepy.”

She smiled slightly, relieved that she wouldn't be judged. Pau walked over to the bed and sat down, putting his phone aside.

“You can sit down if you want,” he said, pointing to the other side of the mattress.

She sat up carefully, her hands in her lap. The rain grew even heavier, and when another clap of thunder lit up the entire room, she let out a small sigh and pulled her knees to her chest. Pau looked at her for a moment, intently.

“You trembled,” he commented, almost in a whisper.

“It’s automatic. I hate that sound.”

Silence for a few seconds.

“Come here,” he said softly, opening his arm in a welcoming gesture. “Just until it stops, I promise.”

She stared at him. For a moment, she considered refusing. But the gesture didn’t feel intimate. It felt caring. Safe. And at that moment, she just wanted to feel protected.

Then she came closer and let herself be enveloped in his embrace. His bare chest was warm, firm, and the sound of his heartbeat gradually replaced the sound of the rain. He rested his chin on her head, slowly, and they remained silent.

“Have you always been this afraid?” he asked, in a tone that almost blended with the sound of the water outside.

“Since I was little. My grandmother said it was because I was born on a stormy night.”

“So you are a child of chaos?” he smiled against her strands of hair.

She laughed softly, the tension easing.

“Maybe just too sensitive.”

“Sensitive... is different from weak.”

His words hung in the air for a few seconds, weighing them down in a strange way. She pulled her face away slightly to look at him, her eyes meeting his in the soft light of the lamp.

"No longer…"

"Hey?"

“You are... kinder than you look.”

He smiled, embarrassed, and looked away for a second.

“You too. I always thought you avoided me, you know?”

She raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t avoid it. I just thought you were too serious for me.”

"And now?"

“Now... I think you're more than you seem too.”

The sound of rain still filled the room, but it no longer seemed so threatening. It was almost comforting, like a background soundtrack to what was happening there—something undefined, but delicate.

She settled more comfortably into his embrace, and Pau pulled her slightly closer.

“You can sleep here,” he murmured. “Stay until you feel safe. Or until morning, if you want.”

“Thank you, Pau…”

She closed her eyes, and he placed his lips lightly on the top of her head, in a gesture that not even he could explain. He just did it.

And they fell asleep there, she nestled in his arms, feeling protected. And he took the opportunity to smell the strawberry scent coming from her hair.

Taglist: @paucubarsisimp @nngkay @meganesanchez @htpssgavi @merinottt @luvvpedri @moonvr @joaosnovia @httpsdana @ilovebarcaaaa @p4uul0vr @pedricando @barcapix @owala6789

[bahngarang]

chapter 10.0 ☆ all in

wc: 5,115

cw: swearing, needles, little bit of blood, crying, science talk

a/n: *throws my genetics special interest at you and runs away* (this is not the end)

I promise this is not as angsty as the warnings make out to be haha

I was going to get this out earlier but I got my period and got sick at the same time so I've been completely wiped out... rip

"we know."

of course. of course. well, that solved one problem... sort of. not really. but it definitely made it a whole lot easier.

yn glanced down at their knee, exposed but framed by some hot pink kt tape with a barbie hot wheels pattern, before looking back up at the trio, nodding tersely. "... yeah." they muttered, leaning against the doorframe, gently scratching bingus's fluffy butt.

their soul mark wasn't completely there yet, but it was more readable than it had been in the last 11 years. it was strangely satisfying, watching it come back together. yn had spent some time examining it after their encounter with minho and seungmin a week ago, seeing how the pieces had fit back into place. it didn't hurt, it felt... odd. a light but annoyingly noticeable sensation under their skin. itchy, the kind of itchy that you couldn't get at.

"who's at the door?" minji called out from back in the apartment.

yn looked back over their shoulder at their friends, grimacing a little as bingus dug his claws into their shoulder to prevent falling off, and definitely made it known that he wasn't happy with their movement.

it really was good timing... just, not so great at the same time if the trio hadn't wanted to be seen by anyone else. yn sighed quietly, pinching their brow. "just... come in, I guess..." they said wearily.

this late in the evening was not the time for thinking very deeply. they could already feel a headache forming. maybe that was just from the stress-induced jaw clenching that had started up again today. thinking about how to break it to your best friend that you'd been hiding a major secret from him for almost a decade was... definitely not the easiest.

the vibe was awkward. not really the relaxed lego building session it once was – although, how relaxed it was in the current situation was debatable. chika, ever the unflappable, took it in her stride like a champ.

"oh my god, hii," she said, smiling and waving at hyunjin. "it's good to see you again."

hyunjin looked a little surprised for a second, but returned the action with a small grin. the three newcomers stood close together just inside the entryway, like something would bite if they moved any further in. that something would probably be bingus, so maybe it was smart.

seungmin was somewhat calm, hands in pockets as he looked discreetly around the apartment – and suddenly, yn was very aware of the pile of laundry taking up a good amount of the couch, the dishes next to the sink, and the ripped curtains, courtesy of one of bingus's catnip induced zoomies sessions, doing their best to cover the full length window.

hyunjin wasn't so composed. at first glance, he might have seemed it, but the way he was shifting on his feet and fiddling with his flat cap told a different story.

and minho? he was staring straight at yn, assessing them in a way that made them feel like he could see their soul. they hadn't bothered to put much effort in this evening, just a random sonic shirt and some sleep shorts. now yn was wishing that they'd has some premonitory sense and at least worn some proper clothes. it was unsettling, to say the least, his sharp eyes piercing them right to the core. 

"the timing is... truly impeccable," minji said, an amused but mildly baffled expression on her face. she shot a smirk in yn's direction, raising her eyebrows as if to say 'go on' and sat back in her chair, crossing her muscley arms. she was enjoying this immensely. 

"so you figured it out, then?" yn asked quietly, leaning back against their kitchen counter.

"i think the fact that my skin wouldn't stop itching where you touched me for two hours after you left sold it for me," minho said, matter-of-factly. 

"ah. well. that'll do it." yn still didn't completely believe that their soul mark could just change like that at the touch of a soulmate, but the evidence was right in front of their eyes, as much as they were reluctant to believe it. however, they supposed, soul marks in and of themselves were a crazy phenomenon, so was this really anything to be so surprised about? weird miracles of the natural world.

"who are...?" minho trailed off, glancing at yn's friends.

"oh, um. minji and chika," yn replied, pointing at both of them in turn. "my friends. hyunjin's already met chika at a versace event."

"so you're the friend he was talking about," he murmured. "i was right."

"what?"

"nothing."

it seemed minji just couldn't hold it in anymore, and began snickering to herself, the hand in front of her mouth doing absolutely nothing to hide it. not that she was trying to – she was absolutely loving this. chika was less obvious about it, but the expression on her face and the way she was twirling her fork in her hands had a certain air about it.

yn elected to ignore the both of them, rolling their eyes. "why did you bring hyunjin?"

"testing the theory."

well, yn had to respect that. it definitely gave him points in their book. they were all for the scientific method.

"that's fair..." yn leaned back into the edge of the counter as bingus hopped off their shoulders and onto the top. he sat next to them emanating a distinctly superior energy, giving the three men intruding on his property an appraising look. despite his demeanour, yn knew that he viewed every stranger as a new friend, and it would only be a matter of time before he began fawning over them, purring and rubbing all over them like they were covered in catnip. bingus was a weirdly social cat. 

"so, uh..." yn held their hand out to hyunjin. "you wanna test it..?" it wasn't like they didn't already know, but just to cement it, properly. it was really more for everyone else.

hyunjin's gaze immediately dropped to the floor with a bashful expression. for someone who exuded so much confidence on stage, he sure was shy off it. he took a few steps closer, until he was in arms reach, extending his hand out.

the tension in the air was so thick you could almost feel it hanging there. even bingus didn't make a sound, just watching, in opposition to his usual chatty self.

their fingers were just about to touch, but-

"wait."

minji's arm shot out, grabbing hyunjin's wrist at lightening speed. yn made eye contact with her, and they knew they were both thinking the same thing.

"what's going on?" hyunjin asked, a confused furrow forming in his brow.

yn groaned. "dr jang would kill me if I didn't..." they muttered, before darting off further into their apartment in a speed walk.

when they came back, yn was juggling a few things in their hands.

"why the fuck do you have microfuges in your apartment?" minji asked, in what was probably a suitable amount of bemusement. even for the most avid of researchers, it wasn't exactly common to have lab equipment hanging out around your home.

"cuz." yn shrugged, setting down the little rack and placing the microfuges into the slots. "my dad got them for me before I started uni. and a micropipette. real shockingly, I've never used them before."

"what would you even use them for...?" minji blinked in a stupefied manner, before shaking her head. "speaking of... has your dad come around yet?"

yn grimaced. "you'd think, after five years. we talked about it last time I visited... wasted about two hours because apparently the literal fact that sex and gender aren't the same is 'dogma' or something. i've sent him several links to the studies proving it, but... he hasn't responded." pulling the cap off a marker, they numbered the tops of the microfuges, chewing their bottom lip. 

"oof." there wasn't really much else to say. yn had a perfectly fine relationship with their parents other than that... usually. most of the time, yn could forget about the way their parents refused to accept them, but every so often the topic resurfaced and ate at them a little more.

yn pulled out a needle from where they'd stuck it through their shirt, gesturing at minji. "can you- thanks." they mumbled, catching the lighter chucked at them with ease.

"... what are you doing?" minho asked.

"dr jang in my department... she researches soul marks and stuff. i'm pretty sure she'd skin me alive if i didn't get a record of this." it took yn... more than a few tries to get the lighter working. they were never that good at things like that, but eventually they managed to get it working and ran the flame under the needle to sterilize it. "and, like... i get this is a whole thing, but i'm also scared of her, and considering she's never even heard of someone's soul mark remaking itself, i don't think she'd be a massive fan of me if i didn't get some evidence."

"you say that like she doesn't love you," minji said. "you're one hundred percent her favourite colleague."

"to be fair... there isn't much choice," yn said, clearing their throat pointedly. a lot of their fellow professors were a bit... snobby was a way to put it. most of them were older men, who seemed to think they were god's gift to humanity, and demanded respect just because of their age and gender while giving none of their own. sure, they had more experience, but that didn't necessarily mean they were right.

yn was just about to use the needle to draw some blood, when bingus chose that exact moment to make his presence known, throwing his head back with a yowl. "ugh. pest." yn set the needle down, plodding over to the cupboard that housed their multitude of pills and supplements. but first, treats. bingus demanded to be fed at the same time every day, so it was easy to use him as an alarm – give him a treat every day at the same time you took your meds, and you were never allowed to miss them.

"there you go, squish," yn murmured affectionately after shaking out a couple of treats for their cat, stroking down his back. bingus accepted them greedily, wolfing them down while purring loudly.

swapping the treat bag for their pill container, yn sat back down at the table, using their soda to swallow the tablets.

seungmin took that moment to speak up for the first time that night. "that's... a lot."

yn huffed. it was true, they took a lot of medication, but it was for a reason. "if my body was a temple, that temple would be old and crumbling."

"... is that why you have greys already?"

it wasn't like they weren't expecting it. yn's grey streaks still hadn't been re-dyed yet because life had gotten in the way so the roots were showing, and they had a number of grey hairs dotted around their scalp. they'd also seen enough stray kids content to know the amount of old person jokes seungmin made. but this quickly? damn. "um. well. maybe. i think it's just stress and genetics. i promise i'm not that ancient."

seungmin raised an eyebrow, pursing his lips subtly, and cocking his hip to lean against the counter. it was annoyingly attractive.

in a moment of weakness, yn poked their tongue out at him petulantly, before promptly choking on their magnesium supplement. that one always had it out for them, anyway.

by the time it finally went down yn had tears in their eyes and an awful, powdery taste in their mouth.

"having fun there?" chika asked, giggling quietly in a way that yn couldn't even be mad at.

"actually shut the fuck up."

yn winced as they stuck the needle into the tip of their middle finger, before squeezing a few drops of blood into the first microfuge. there were probably better ways to do it, but yn didn't know how or have the equipment for it. a little rudimentary, but anything to save themselves from the wrath of their colleague. 

"you're very calm about this," hyunjin mumbled, looking warily at the needle.

"i've had about 50 blood tests, i'm used to it," yn responded. "should i get saliva samples...? mm.. no, i don't have the patience for that. alright." stretching their arms above their head, yn couldn't help but let out a little groan as their back popped and shoulder clunked concerningly – and notice how hyunjin's eyes darted down to their exposed midriff. they extended their hand to him for a second time. "let's do this."

hyunjin's hand was warm. soft. big. static shocks were swapped between both of their palms as hyunjin tightened his grip. gentle, but firm.

yn felt... odd. the other times, it was in passing. this time it was a thing. they could feel it happening, feel the slight tingle running over their knee, feel how close he was. they squirmed gently in their chair, their eyes darting from their intertwined hands, to their knee, to anywhere else.

out of the corner of their eye, yn could see chika trying to sneakily film the interaction. she wasn't very good at hiding it. maybe it was a good thing. to get more evidence for dr jang.

looking down at their knee again, yn watched their soul mark change for the first time. they almost couldn't believe it, but... there it was. right there. sure, their eyesight was pretty trash but it was pretty hard to deny it like when it was like that.

"woah... that's..." hyunjin looked how yn felt: completely stupefied. it was one thing seeing their mark after the change, but seeing it happen? wild.

"... yeah," yn breathed out. there was no denying it now. the secret was well and truly out. and honestly? it was kind of a relief. yn hadn't realized just how much it had been weighing on them until now. maybe seven years of repression wasn't good for you. who knew? "what... happens now?"

"i think you should come back with us. meet everyone else... we've been waiting to meet you."

"oh i should, should i?" yn asked, letting go of hyunjin's hand and reaching for the needle again. "i... i'm not sure... i have work tomorrow... and bingus... i can't leave him alone..."

"oh, come off it," minji groaned, her exasperation evident. "pack an overnight bag. chika and i can stay here and watch your baby. you've put it off for too long, i'll force you out myself if i have to."

"i-..." yn sighed. an overnight bag? how long would they be staying there? a while, realistically. when it happened, it was going to be a long, uncomfortable conversation, about uncomfortable things – about why they had felt the need to hide for so long from the people that were meant to love them most.

yn glanced over at their friends, at chika's encouraging smile, and minji's insistent expression. if they really wanted to do this, like they said they did, then they had to face the music. "... fine."

everything was in order. kind of. yn had their overnight bag, although there was bound to be at least one thing they forgot, like always. it was inevitable. but it was really happening.

"okay, you can sleep in my bed if you want just-... no freaky stuff." yn gave both girls a pointed look.

"hey! we're not that bad," chika protested.

"i still have stains on my couch." that shut them up. "you know the drill with bingus – he will bite your toes under the covers, if you don't get up to give him food in the morning he will make it your problem, and you know the coffee machine- yeah, you can work it, fine... stay safe. lock the door. everything else."

"it'll be fine," minji reassured them, patting yn on the shoulder. "you don't need to worry about us. go get your guys."

"mm," yn hummed. "but if i find any more weird stains on my furniture, you're buying me new ones. freaks."

"yeah, but we're your favourite freaks," chika said with a wink.

"whatever helps you sleep at night." yn turned to minho (who was currently getting his fingers gnawed on by a very happy bingus), hyunjin and seungmin, trying to work out in their head who would fit best in their extra set of motorbike leathers. technically, they fit chan the best, but those with astute observational abilities could tell that he wasn't here right now. and since two of them were probably too tall, that left minho to go on the bike with them.

they chucked the set at him, which he caught deftly before minho's brain caught up with his hands. he examined them for a moment, holding them up to himself in mild confusion.

"to preface, i'm simply not going in a car, but I also don't fully trust myself to get to a new address alone because i am... directionally challenged."

"do i really need to wear these?" minho asked skeptically.

"do you want a nurse to be picking gravel out of you?" yn asked brightly. "you can be slightly warm and uncomfortable, or unsafe. pick your poison."

sensibly, minho chose to wear the leathers.

"... you good?" yn asked minho as they sat on their bike in the parking garage, inputting the address for the dorms into their phone before zipping into one of their pockets.

minho was... antsy, clipping and unclipping the buckle of the strap on yn's spare helmet. he'd been much more confident about going on the bike with them earlier, in the apartment. currently, he was eyeing it like it would bite him. yn got it to an extent, the first time they'd realised they actually had to ride one, it was pretty daunting. it wasn't like he actually had to do anything, though. just hold on and help in case yn got lost. but right now, he was the one looking lost.

yn stood up off the bike, taking the helmet gently out of minho's hands and fitting it over his head and doing up the strap for him. "comfortable?"

he nodded, searching them with his big, pretty eyes. it wasn't intense, per say, but yn's breath hitched when they caught his gaze, flicking the visor down over his eyes to avoid becoming even more flustered. yn knew that being his soulmate would come with... increased susceptibility to him, but they'd only met minho twice. goddamn.

swinging their leg over the bike, yn sat back down and pulled their own helmet over their head – of course it was matching with the rest of their gear, with cat ears and sanrio decals, because of course.

"uh... you know you have to sit behind me to ride..." minho slid on behind them, and yn could feel the awkwardness radiating from him in waves. "and, um.. hold on to my waist..."

ever so carefully, minho rested his hands around yn's middle. they almost laughed at how light his touch was, knowing it wouldn't remain that way for too long. 

"how are you going to know where to go?" minho asked, his voice slightly muffled.

"my helmet has a bluetooth thing that i can hear directions though. hold on tight," yn warned.

luckily, he heeded their warning as soon as the bike started up, his grip maybe a tad too snug. at least he wouldn't be falling off.

the drive was pretty short, which was a bit of a relief when minho was squeezing yn like a stress ball. he seemed glad to be back on solid ground by the time it was over. seemed... dramatic, but the way he tripped and fell taking off the leathers, and the embarrassed look on his face made yn promise themselves to not tell anyone. for now.

when yn finally walked into the dorm with minho, everything went quiet. not just quiet – dead silent.

yn's heart was pounding against their ribs as everyone turned to look at them from their various positions sprawled out over the couch and the floor. hyunjin and seungmin had arrived there before minho and yn. it was incredibly offputting, having all their eyes on them all at once, and they couldn't help but to fidget anxiously with the hem of their shirt, softly tapping the toe of their shoe against the floor as they leaned against their cane.

"um. hi," yn forced out, their voice hoarse. 

a small gasp came from across the room, deafeningly loud in the quiet space. "are you our..?" felix's voice trailed off, his big brown eyes wide and hopeful.

yn had to swallow down the frog in their throat before they could respond. "i... yes. i am."

yn blinked and felix was in front of them, almost vibrating with excitement. his eyes roamed over their face, drinking in the sight.

they hadn't really known what to expect when it finally happened, but it wasn't... this. a part of yn had always wondered if the first thing people saw about them was the cane, or the tape holding their joints together. to be completely fair, they did make it kind of obvious, with bright colours and patterns, eyes were naturally drawn to that kind of thing – but so was the rest of yn's attire, usually, and their hair. but it seemed like felix's eyes were glued to just... them.

felix reached out hesitantly, his hands hovering in front of yn, but not touching. his throat bobbed as he pulled back slightly, a small, apologetic smile gracing his features.

yn couldn't help but shyly return the smile, before they found themselves being ushered further into the forms and sat onto the end of the couch, everyone else keeping a respectful distance. although, despite the distance, it didn't stop most of them from staring shamelessly.

in lieu of any actual conversation, yn reached into their bag, the keychains attached jingling and clacking against each other, and pulled out their little box of microfuges. they set it on the coffee table along with the needle and lighter.

"sorry about your laptop," changbin muttered sheepishly from beside them. 

yn snorted, unable to hold it back. even now, he was still apologetic about the incident. technically, it had been kind of a big thing – laptops were expensive, and a pretty necessary part of their life... but, then again, he'd rectified it almost as quickly as he'd caused the problem. "it's fine. really."

"you've met before?" jisung piped up, his voice muffled through a mouthful of ramen.

"yeah. he, uh... spilled three drinks over my old laptop. and me."

"did you manage to get the stain out of your trousers?" changbin asked, fidgeting with his chopsticks.

"it took a few goes with the stain remover, but... they're fine now. which is good, because they're my favourite, and if it hadn't come out i might have gone through chan to be reimbursed," yn joked, before they saw his flustered blush get darker. "i'm kidding. i could have replaced them myself. i stain my clothes all the time, it's not a big deal."

"... how many of us have met you before?" jisung asked, furrowing his brows.

"well, we met them through... the cat thing," seungmin said, looking at minho.

"it was the video call for me," hyunjin mumbled, looking vaguely embarrassed.

"i've known chan for, like... fifteen years," yn added after some quick mental maths. time really flew by.

"how old are you?" jeongin asked.

"i just turned twenty nine."

"damn." jeongin cleared his throat, looking away and scratching the back of his neck. "sorry."

"so..." jisung shoved a lettuce leaf into his mouth before continuing, his cheeks puffing up with food. "it's just me, felix and ayen who haven't met you yet?"

yn hummed contemplatively, tilting their head to the side. "i've been in contact with jeongin before. at the dentist. not a proper meeting, though."

"really?" it took a few seconds, but realisation dawned soon enough. "oh. with the hair. right," jeongin said, gesturing at his fringe, more to himself than anyone else.

"and, i'm fairly confident on this..." yn pulled out their phone, snapping a quick picture of their hand before messaging it to what they were almost certain was jisung's number-

-and it was, his phone vibrating half a second later. jisung's eyes bulged out of his head for a few moments as he glanced between his screen and yn's hand repeatedly. 

"how do you have jisung's number?" felix asked.

"oh, i... thought i was texting someone else. she changed her number." yn trained their eyes on the little racks on microfuges, absentmindedly drumming their fingers against their thighs. "and then he said his name was jisung, and he was twenty four and fate had been giving me a kick up the ass so... i kind of thought it would end up like that."

"ah." he nodded slowly. "... what are those for?"

"science stuff," seungmin answered for yn.

"well... yeah, i guess. i'm collecting dna samples for my colleague." yn turned to felix with what was probably a slightly constipated expression and took a breath before asking the question. "can i, um. touch you?"

felix's face went pink. there was a lot of that going around recently. his face didn't move a muscle, he just sat there for a few seconds with a politely mystified expression while his face went several shades darker. 

yn ran through their words in their head. "not- not like that. for the... science stuff. and also it's making my soul mark fix itself? somehow? i'm not sure how that's happening, but it is, and..."

another few excruciating seconds ticked by, before felix's face split into an endearing grin, his eyes sparkling. "you want to hold my hand?"

"i mean, if you're comfortable with that," yn mumbled, taken aback by his enthusiasm.

felix proffered his hand, and yn took it gently, trying not to stare at his arms like a creep. they were nice arms. from a purely anatomical perspective, of course. he had nice veins. yn bet nurses liked him.

getting the dna evidence while working around felix's hand holding was fiddly, but he wasn't letting go any time soon. and yn didn't want to ask him to let go, either, not that they would admit it. they had forgotten how much they enjoyed doing this kind of thing. of course, they did it with chika and minji sometimes; yn and their friends were touchy people. but this was different. more... intimate.

yn's first physical interaction with jisung was much more short-lived, and accidental at that. he reached over to grab his drink, yn went to put the microfuge back in its slot – skin brushed skin, and the two of them locked eyes. jisung blinked, and pulled away as a static shock passed between their fingers. he let out a melodramatic cry, his head falling back into hyunjin's lap, who moved a hand to pat his head with a nonchalance that showed that this wasn't an infrequent occurrence.

"so... you said all of this is a genetic thing?" minho spoke up.

"oh, yeah. they're still not sure what causes it, but... it's different for each group of soulmates, and polygenic if you have more than one soulmate, which is what makes it hard so to study-"

"-polygenic?" jeongin asked.

"caused by multiple genes. but, you know, people are people and have attributed meaning to what they couldn't figure out and given it superstitions and so on. there's... more going on behind it, like something about it makes you produce more oxytocin and stuff around your soulmates. the term is kind of a misnomer."

"wow... you really know how to suck the magic out of it..." seungmin said.

"dude. besides the fact that the marks have our initials, which... like i'm not sure how to feel about that, but either way you look at it, it's kind of insane – do you not see the magic in the way somehow, everything fit so perfectly together to create life? in the way we evolved to have genes that randomly mutated to have random people connected so deeply? just because it's not what you thought it was doesn't make it not special." yn paused their ramble once they realised they were being stared at.

"you have no appreciation for science." they said, fixing seungmin with a blank stare. "science is magic. it doesn't stop being magic because you can explain it." so soulmates weren't technically this big supernatural be-all end-all of love. big whoop. but with the way it made people feel around their soulmates? it might as well be.

"well... that's-" minho was cut off by the sound of the front door to the dorms opening.

everyone turned to see chan walking in through the door, dragging a suitcase with the strap of his other bag hanging off one shoulder. against all odds, he managed to not notice the congregation in the lounge, trudging off into his own room.

it was a few minutes before he re-emerged in a fresh set of clothes, looking just about ready to fall asleep while his stomach growled comically loudly.

when chan finally noticed yn, he stopped in his tracks, standing completely still, like time had suddenly frozen him in place.

and it felt like it had for yn, too. all their denial, all that time spent wallowing in their own pathetic feelings of inadequacy, had let up to this moment.

yn forgot how to breathe when chan finally looked down at the soul mark on their knee, finally looking as it once did back when they were seventeen. readable. obvious as to who their soulmates were.

"yn..." chan said in a rough whisper.

yn stood up shaking, clenching their trembling hands into fists. "chan, i..."

they didn't know how to finish the sentence, but it didn't matter, because they were engulfed in chan's arms a few moments – something that had always been a catalyst for the release of strong emotions, and it was still true now, tears pricking at yn's eyes.

"are you mad at me?" yn asked quietly, tentatively returning the hug as they wrapped their arms around his waist.

"of course i'm annoyed," chan responded.

yn sniffled, squeezing their eyes shut as hot tears began to roll down their cheeks. "i'm sorry," they whispered, voice wobbling. "do you hate me now?"

"hate you? i could never hate you, noona," chan murmured, pressing his face into yn's shoulder and inhaling deeply. "i'm glad it's you."

< prev ☆ series masterlist ☆ next >

a/n: for those of you wondering what a microfuge + micropipette is (ik the pic quality is shit but wtv)

and yes my dad did actually buy me a micropipette. still not sure why. still haven't used it.

taglist (35/50): @sunfk88 @estella-novella @boo-ven9eance @0sunshinecryptid0 @idiotmaterial @tearsofgenshin @tirena1 @cowboylikemalika @d3kstar @heyheyitsmk @bangchansgirlsblog @geni-627 @4ng3l-ch1ld @vitaniangel-blog @beppybeesnuggets @yxna-bliss @imeverycliche @brbwritingfanfic @mavischerry @hanniemylovelyquokka @143hyunes @haexinqx @wynn-43 @rtyuy1346 @aalexyuuuhm @deuces-sunglasses @maxinehufflepuffprincess @staybabblingbaby @chimmyn0chu @maddy24207 @bookishcaptain @alisonyus @marvelsmarauder @mads-borderlands @juuh-07

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Lessons

Summary: Joel Miller, the smuggler of the Boston QZ, does not want your money when he gets you the medication you need, he asks for your body. Something you happily agree to. But one night he catches you touching yourself after you just had sex and leaves you to finally admit to him that you almost never finish with him. Something Joel can't and won't let stand.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Rating: E

Wordcount: 3k

Warnings: Boston QZ Joel, sex as a business transaction, mentions of period pains and medication, mentions of alcohol. smut (unprotected sex, semi public sex, oral sex) Joel is bad at feelings but he's trying, little bit of oblivious idiots cause why the hell not

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

Full Masterlist // Joel Miller Masterlist

It started because you needed pills.

FEDRA had again increased the prices for the medication you and many other people needed, you, to get through you period every month and you had heard from a friend of a friend of a friend that there might be another way to get it. 

It was back then that you met Joel Miller. 

You were at the speakeasy after a long day of pretending to love getting to cook meals at the FEDRA base on the other side of the QZ. 

You hated the job, but it paid well and left you being able to sometimes steal shit so you put a fake smile on while the FEDRA officers lined up to get their food at the make shift cafeteria you were working in, ignoring their lingering stares and attempts to flirt with you. 

It had been a long and exhausting day and you wanted a drink when your friend Carl told you that Joel Miller was here. You followed the way he was pointing at, being met with dark eyes already looking at you. 

He was not what you expected. 

Smugglers you had met before usually were younger and making you uncomfortable for various reasons. 

But Joel Miller was attractive in a dangerous way. 

He was sitting at the far end of the underground speakeasy, his jeans clad legs spread widely. He had a drink in his hand, that was resting on his thigh, the sleeves of the dark shirt he was wearing pushed over his elbows, showing his strong arms. 

But it was the way he was looking at you that made you realise that Joel Miller could become a problem for you. 

It was the first night he had fucked you. 

In a dark corner outside of the speakeasy, his hand wrapped over your mouth to keep you quiet as he railed you against the cold stone wall, spilling his cum over your still clothed back before you could cum, leaving you to clean up by yourself while he made his way back inside. 

You had to finish yourself off the moment you got home.

A pattern that you didn’t know would continue for the next years. 

It was easy. 

You let him fuck you and he would get you the drugs you needed. 

Yes, you could afford to pay him with ration cards. It would probably even better for you. But over the years this arrangement you had was now going, you started craving the way he was using you. 

It was the only human connection you allowed yourself to have, even though it only rarely ended with you getting to climax. Something that you realise should bother you more. 

It wasn’t like he didn’t make you feel good. He did. He was big and rough and just what you craved. 

He just wasn’t in it for you, but for him and him only. 

Joel came, every single time. 

Be it on your ass, on your tits or in your mouth. He always finished. 

It was always the same procedure. 

Every three months you’d meet up at the speakeasy. He would fuck you from behind either there or at your home, never his, and you would wake up to a three month supply of the drugs you needed on your kitchen table. 

You asked him once how he did get inside of your apartment and he said that you should learn how to lock your door.

But tonight something was different. 

You had run into him on the street after your shift. Another thing that seemed to happen more often. 

In the last couple of months Joel seemed to always be where you were. Something that had not happened in all the years before. 

It had only been three weeks since you met up and he asked if he could come over later. 

Confused you had agreed. 

If you were honest with yourself you had been looking forward to spending the rest of your day with the bottle of wine you had stolen from the FEDRA kitchen some weeks ago. 

There would be memorial services all over the QZ tonight, the curfew being lifted for the day before and for Outbreak day. 

You couldn’t believe it already had been ten years. 

You were already a glass of wine in when you heard a knock on your door. Event though you knew who it would be (you never got visitors) you checked before you opened the door for Joel. 

He nodded at you as he entered and you leaned with your back against the closed door, watching him in your space. 

You came to the realisation that you only ever spend time with him when it was dark outside. Like he was a monster that was hiding under your bed. 

He awkwardly turned around to look at you and you tilted your head to the side as you looked at him, waiting for what would happen next. 

„The supplier for your drugs got killed last week. I don’t have someone new yet, but I have these,“ he reached into this back pocket and showed you a small tube of pills. 

„These should last you for four months more. I’ll try to figure something out for after,“ he said. You nodded, taking a step towards him. He held out the tube of pills and you took it from him, reading over the faded out ink on the label that read the name of a woman that was probably long dead. 

„Thank you,“ you said quietly. 

„Take a seat, I’ll just put them away,“ you said. He nodded and you turned around, walking towards your little bathroom. You put the pills away, before you looked at yourself in the small mirror above the sink. 

You asked yourself why he chose today to come over and give you the pills. He could have waited  until the next time you were due since he had a full supply for the next time. 

Not that you were complaining. 

More than once you had tried to come up with a plan to have sex with Joel more often than you did, but for some reason you felt silly with every idea that you had. 

You could ask, but you didn’t think you could handle if he said no, so you made your peace with the arrangement you had. 

You just wanted to spend more time with him, feeling yourself drawn to him. 

Taking a deep breath you made your way back towards your kitchen area, where Joel was now sitting at your small table. You were overwhelmed with the urge to climb into his lap. 

Instead you picked up your glass of wine to take a sip. 

„You want a glass too?“ You asked him. 

„Sure,“ he nodded. You picked up a mug. 

„Only have that one glass, sorry,“ you said sheepishly as you filled the mug with some wine and brought it over to him. 

„Where did you get that from anyway?“ He asked, his fingers brushing over yours as he took the mug from you. 

You sat down on the chair next to him. 

„Stole it from the FEDRA pantry,“ you shrugged and he looked at you with a raised eyebrow  before he shook his head, his mouth twitching into a small grin. 

„Unbelievable,“ he said looking at you with warm eyes before he brought the mug up to his lips. 

„They have so much shit they don’t need. Makes me angry to see everyone suffer while they get to eat first class meals. So I sometimes take things,“ you shrugged. 

„Anything else you took?“ He asked, leaning towards you. 

You sucked your bottom lip in, before you got up. 

„I usually take small stuff. Spices, herbs and shit. But,“ you bend down, opening the cabinet under the sink and reaching to the very end, searching for the two bottles you hid there some time ago, grinning when you picked them up and turned around, missing him staring at your ass.

His eyes widened when he noticed what you held. 

„Shut the fuck up," he said in awe and you chuckled. 

„You want some Jack and Coke, Miller?“ You winked and he shook his hand with a grin. 

„If you’re offerin’“ he winked.

„Please,“ you moaned, letting your head fall down against your pillow as Joel fucked you into you mattress. You were so close. He had one of his hands on our back, pinning you against the mattress while he pumped his cock into you in deep hard thrusts. 

He had gotten you naked not long after you offered him the first glass of whiskey, asking you if you’d like to suck his cock while he emptied his glass. 

You did, keeping him on the edge for almost an hour before he pulled you up and told you to kneel on the bed. 

You were surprised to find him pulling you up against his chest moments later, his skin against yours as he played with your tits. 

Usually these fucks were quick, leaving no time to really get out of either of your clothes. And if you had the time, it was always you who got naked. 

„Always so fucking good,“ he moaned behind you and you gasped. You reached one hand between your legs to play with your clit when Joel groaned and pulled out of you. Whining as he turned you around you looked up at him as he jerked himself off before he moaned and spilled his cum all over your body. 

You were annoyed for a moment, having been so close yourself but that disappeared the moment you saw how relaxed Joel looked. He was mumbling something you couldn’t make out before his eyes opened, taking you in as you laid on your back with his cum all over your stomach and chest. 

„So pretty,“ he mumbled before he let himself lay down next to you. He stretched his arms to the side and you sighed, slipping your fingers through his cum on your chest, bringing it up to taste it. With a grin you turned your head towards the side to look at Joel only to find him asleep.

Disappointed you sat yourself up before you made your way back to your bathroom to clean yourself up. 

After taking care of your business and brushing your teeth you grabbed a glass of water and made your way back to your bed. Joel was still sleeping, laying completely naked in your bed, his flaccid cock still glistening in your juices. 

Shaking your head you grabbed your spare blanket and put it over him before you snuggled under your blanket. You switched the small lamp on your bedside table off.

Usually he would be gone by now. 

He never stayed, let alone fell asleep next to you. It made you think back to the last time you had shared a bed with someone. Ten years ago.

The last time your life had been normal. The last time you had been truly happy. The last time you had slept in the arms of the man you thought you would grow old with only to wake up to him trying to kill you. 

Closing your eyes you shook your head, trying to get rid of the memory that haunted you every single day. You turned your head to look at Joel.

He looked so much younger when he was asleep. The lines around his eyes almost gone, his lips resting in a pout. Adorable. 

You spend more time thinking about Joel Miller than you would ever admit. 

Of course you heard the stories around the QZ about him. How he took no shit from anyone. He had the reputation to be brutal and cold. 

But he never was with you. 

You hummed, letting your hands ran down your body, before you brought one hand between your legs while your other hand played with your tits. 

You moved your fingers over your clit, your pussy still wet from Joel fucking you. 

Thinking about how he felt when he fucked you you pushed two fingers inside of you, humming quietly. It wasn’t his cock, but it would do the job. Moving your fingers inside of you, the palm of your hand massaging your clit. 

„Fuck,“ you whispered, moving your hips slowly. You pulled your fingers out, focusing on your clit instead and you smiled when you felt the familiar feeling of your orgasm approaching. Arching your back your blanket slipped down, revealing your tits to the cold air. 

Your lips parted as you took deep breaths, your orgasm so close you could almost taste it. 

You released a long and happy sigh when you finally came, biting your lip as you rode it out. Relaxing back into your bed you closed your eyes, smiling to yourself. 

„Can’t get enough, huh?“ Joel’s sleepy voice startled you and your eyes opened wide, finding him looking at you as he laid on the side.

Caught, you felt your cheeks burning before you turned your head away from him, hiding. 

„Uh. Yeah. I just… needed to cum again….“ You mumbled awkwardly, intending to get out of the bed to flee into the bathroom, before you felt his fingers wrap around one of your writs, holding you back. 

Nervously sucking your bottom lip in you turned back to him, finding him already looking at you with narrowed eyes.

„You did cum earlier, right? I felt it,“ he said.

You just looked at him, trying to figure out how to get out of this situation when you slowly shook your head. He blinked once, twice at you before his eyes widened. 

„You didn’t cum?“ He asked, confused. 

Suddenly feeling too naked for this conversation you pulled your blanket up and over your breasts as you turned on the bed towards him. 

You took a deep breath. 

„No. I did not,“ you finally said and if this situation wouldn’t be so awkward you would laugh at his horrified expression. 

„But… You… You… I felt it? I did, didn’t I….“ He was speaking to himself and you took his hand. 

„It’s not a big deal. Maybe it’s me. It’s always been hard to finish and…“ You were stopped as he squeezed your hand. 

„You did finish before with me, right?“ He asked slowly. 

You nodded. „Of course!“ You said quickly. 

He narrowed his eyes again. 

„How often. And don’t lie to me,“ he added. You looked down at your hands.

„Joel, can we please just… I don’t know. Sleep? This is… You make me feel so good. Really. And that’s….“

His fingers tilted your chin up so you had to look at him. 

„How often?“ He asked again and you sighed. 

„Once,“ you mumbled.

„Once?“ He asked with wide eyes. 

„Yeah. But Joel… I like the way you fuck me. It feels good and I don’t care if I cum or if I don’t cum. And I mean it’s a business transaction really so it doesn’t….JOEL!“ You cried out his name when he grabbed you to lay you down, throwing the blanked off your body, his body caging you in. 

„Do not say that it doesn’t matter. Just because it’s business does not mean that it doesn’t matter that you don’t cum. Why didn’t you say anything?“ He asked.

„Because this is fucking awkward,“ you whined. 

„Doesn’t matter. I don’t make you cum, you tell me. Or better yet,“ he said as he slowly slipped down your body. 

„We not gonna leave this bed until I know exactly how it feels when you cum,“ he said and you felt his beard lightly scratch over your stomach, before he settled between your legs. 

„But Joel. You don’t have to do this. It’s just sex,“ you said and you saw him close his eyes before he took a deep breath and looked at you again. 

„Hasn’t been just sex for me for a while. Why do you think I keep looking for reasons to run into you,“ he said and it was like something clicked inside your head. You had been seeing him fairly often these last weeks. But he never talked to you. He sometimes nodded at you when you saw him, but there was nothing else. 

„So please, let me learn how to make you cum so I don’t feel like a dick who has been using the woman he’s been crushing on like a fucking teenager?“ He said and you grinned. 

„You are crushing on me? That’s adorable,“ you teased and he chuckled with a shake of his head before he kissed your inner thigh. 

„Not a big talker. But I now how to use my mouth in other ways,“ he winked before he licked through your folds, making you gasp. 

„And I need you to guide me, so I know what to do the next time,“ he said.

„Next time?“ You asked. 

„Next time,“ he nodded, before he began to eat you out.

He started slowly, his tongue exploring your pussy, humming at your taste. You could not take your eyes off of him. 

His strong arms were wrapped around your thighs, keeping your legs parted as wide as he needed while he nibbled and sucked and licked you, driving you positively insane.

Once he had you cumming on his tongue he used his fingers. Saving every single expression and sound you made to his memory so he would never forget what made you cum. 

In the early morning hours he had you coming on his cock, squeezing him so hard he almost spilled inside of you, yet he fucked you through your orgasm until he pulled out and spilled himself all over your pussy. 

You were almost asleep, exhausted and utterly satisfied from the five orgasms you had in the last hours, when you almost missed him pulling you against his chest and kissing your shoulder, mumbling a sleepy „Love you“ against your ear.

Making you fall asleep with a smile on your face. 

[theeartuaist]

The App (3)

Six months passed, and the world stayed quiet.

No books materialized in impossible places. No cryptic messages blinked into long-silent devices. No strangers with posture too perfect and eyes too still crossed your path.

The dread didn’t vanish. It dulled. Softened. Became a sore tooth you couldn’t stop tonguing. It lived beneath the surface, a silent hum in your blood.

You found a job fifteen blocks from the new apartment—a small company. Your desk faced the wall instead of the window—a small comfort that your coworkers found odd but didn't question.

You developed patterns. Not habits—patterns. Coffee from the shop downstairs, but always at different times. Grocery runs on odd days. You changed your walking routes weekly. It gave you the illusion of safety. Sometimes, that was enough.

(But you still checked reflections. Just in case.)

It happened on a Wednesday, late December. You were working over time, alone in the office. The building was hushed, wrapped in the sound of itself: the hiss of the fan, the metallic pop of a settling pipe, the whir of machines that never really turned off. You were half-finished with a client mock-up when the air shifted. It wasn't a sound. Not exactly.

It was the feeling of being watched.

You turned. Fast. Nothing. Just your reflection in the window—wide-eyed and pale. Except… maybe not. Something flickered in the glass.

Just for a second. You didn't wait to investigate.

You gathered your things, left your coffee half-finished, and walked home with your keys between your fingers. No one followed. No one stared.

But you didn't sleep that night.

The next morning, bleary and irritable, you broke a rule. You stopped at a coffee shop you'd never visited before. Too tired to maintain your careful patterns. Too strung-out to remember why those patterns mattered.

You were adding cream to your latte when someone bumped into you from behind, sending coffee splashing across the counter and onto your sleeve.

"Shit, I'm so sorry," a male voice said immediately.

You turned, ready with a polite dismissal that died in your throat. "Michael?"

His face registered surprise, then recognition, eyes widening. "No way. Is that you? It's been what, seven years?"

Michael Keating. You went to the same college and worked together at your first job out of college, before he'd moved west to find himself. You weren't very close, but always got along well. He had that kind of easy, undemanding presence that made long workdays bearable. Nice without being cloying. Funny without trying too hard.

"How are you even here?" you asked as you both moved to a table, dabbing at coffee stains with inadequate napkins.

"Moved back three months ago," he explained, grimacing at the spreading stain on his shirt. "Been meaning to look up old friends, but you know how relocation goes. Still living out of boxes half the time."

You did know.

You sat with him while your sleeves dried. Swapped numbers before parting ways. You walked to work with your coffee gone cold. But your chest was warm in a way it hadn't been in months.

There was something comforting about running into someone from before—before the app that appeared uninvited on your phone, before an alien suitor who didn't understand the difference between movies, Reddit forums and reality, before you started checking reflective surfaces for faces that didn't belong.

A small, tenuous connection to a simpler time.

You almost deleted his number that night, paranoia whispering that it was too convenient, this chance meeting. But you didn't. And when he texted three days later to suggest dinner, you said yes before you could overthink it.

The restaurant was a small Italian place with red-checkered tablecloths and candles stuck in wax-covered Chianti bottles. Nothing fancy, nothing pretentious. Just good food and conversations that didn't require explanations.

You watched him carefully at first, looking for signs of too-fluid movements or unnaturally precise speech patterns. But Michael was reassuringly, beautifully human in his imperfections. He knocked over his water glass reaching for the bread basket. Mispronounced "gnocchi."

"Remember Darren from the office?" he asked over tiramisu, referring to a former coworker. "The guy who nearly burned down the break room trying to microwave a metal travel mug?"

"That was Brian," you corrected, smiling at the memory. "Darren was the lunch thief."

Michael shook his head, fork paused halfway to his mouth. "Pretty sure it was Darren with the mug incident. Brian was the one caught stealing from the refrigerator."

"No, I distinctly remember because Darren got fired over the lunch thing. They found a stockpile of stolen tupperware in his desk drawer when they were clearing it out."

Michael then laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"God, my memory is terrible. Of course you're right. Darren with the lunches, Brian with the mug. I'm mixing everything up these days."

You went out again the following week. Michael suggested a small jazz club where the music wasn't too loud for conversation. He was easy to talk to in that funny, dry offhanded way you'd forgotten you liked. And when he asked about your job and how things had been for the past months, he didn't prod when you offered nothing. He just listened and smiled.

You found yourself watching the curve of his smile, the way he absently ran his thumb along the rim of his glass, the small scar above his left eyebrow from a childhood bicycle accident, he said. All these details anchored him in reality, in humanity.

When you walked home, he didn't try to kiss you. Just said it was good to see you again.

You couldn't remember the last time you'd felt something so simple. Weeks passed and dinner became routine. You introduced him to a ramen place you'd never visited. He introduced you to obscure films and weirder music.

One night, walking home, he said: "You always look up at the streetlights. You did it back in college, too."

You smiled. "Most people don't notice that."

"I'm not most people," he said. It was a joke. And not.

He touched your hand at your doorstep and didn't let go until you did.

You slept well that night.

Spring came. Then summer. Dinners at hole-in-the-wall restaurants neither of you had tried before. Sunday afternoons at obscure museums. Long walks through neighborhoods you'd never explored. Michael was easy to be with—attentive without being smothering, interested without being intrusive.

One summer day Michael suggested a weekend trip to a small lakeside town. You stayed in a charming B&B with creaking floors and floral wallpaper that looked like it hadn't been updated.

The sun dipped low when you arrived, washing the lake in syrupy gold. You sat together on the old wooden dock behind the bed-and-breakfast, legs dangling just above the water. The boards creaked under your weight, weather-worn and soft from years of sun and rain. A dragonfly hovered near the surface before darting away. Neither of you spoke, you were busy scrolling through your phone.

Michael's hand brushed against yours, not quite holding it, not quite letting go. The wind smelled like cedar and distant campfires.

"You ever wonder how we got here?" he said, voice quiet, like he didn't want to disturb the lake.

"Here, like... the town? The dock?"

He smiled, eyes on the water. "Here, like... this. Us."

You thought about it. The coffee shop. The times spent after work. The way he sometimes burned toast and blamed the toaster. The jazz club, the mismatched socks, the nights you spent listening to thunderstorms instead of speaking.

"Sometimes," you admitted. "Yeah."

He was silent for a long beat. Then another.

"I think I love you," he said.

He didn't look at you when he said it. His eyes were still on the lake, as if the words had escaped without his permission.

"I don't mean it like some grand declaration," he added. "I mean—I just—being with you feels like... like I stopped pretending something. Like I finally exhaled after holding my breath for years."

You stared at him. At his profile in the dying light. The tiny scar, the crooked tooth, the mole on his jawline you'd only noticed last week.

"You're not just a safe place," he said, voice barely audible. "You're the right place."

That was the moment. Right there.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, your fingers closing around his, laughing. "I think I love you too," you said, and the moment held. Whole. Real. Undeniable.

That night, you woke to find Michael standing at the window, silhouetted against the moonlight. For a disorienting moment, his outline seemed wrong somehow—taller, more angular, his posture too straight. A perfect stillness that nothing alive should possess.

"Michael?" you murmured sleepily.

He turned and it was just Michael again—rumpled hair, soft smile. "Sorry. Couldn't sleep. Too happy, I think."

And you'd smiled. Because Michael was always a little strange in the edges. That's what made him real. He came back to bed, gathered you in his arms, and you let yourself be taken by sleep. Just a trick of the moonlight. Just your old fears trying to spoil something good.

Summer blazed into autumn. One year since you last saw Raye. One year of healing, of cautious happiness.

"Move in with me," Michael suggested as you walked through a park ablaze with fall colors. "My place is bigger, but I'm not attached to it. We could find somewhere new together if you prefer."

You hesitated only briefly before saying yes.

Living together felt natural, right. Michael couldn't cook much beyond scrambled eggs, but he did the dishes without being asked. He sang off-key in the shower. He sometimes wore mismatched socks. Small, human imperfections that you found increasingly endearing.

On a crisp November evening—exactly one year and one month since your last encounter with Raye—Michael made dinner. Nothing fancy, just pasta with a sauce from a jar, but there were candles on the table, wine in proper glasses instead of the mismatched mugs you usually used. He seemed nervous, dropping his fork twice during the meal. His eyes kept darting to his jacket hanging by the door, then back to you.

"Everything okay?" you asked, reaching for his hand across the table.

He nodded, took a deep breath. "I had this whole thing planned. A speech. But I know I'll mess it up anyway, so—"

He stood abruptly, crossed to his jacket, fumbled in the pocket. When he returned, there was a small velvet box in his hand that made your heart stutter with a complex mixture of joy and inexplicable dread.

"I know we haven't been together that long," he said, voice unsteady. "But when you know, you know. And I know I want to spend my life with you."

"Michael..."

"It doesn't have to be a big wedding," he added quickly. "Just us, if you want. Simple, private." He opened the box, revealing a delicate ring with a moonstone instead of a diamond. "I remembered you once said you liked these better than conventional engagement rings. That they felt more personal, more connected to the natural world."

You stared at the ring, a cold feeling spreading through you. You had said that—but not to Michael. You'd mentioned it to a college roommate years ago. There was no way Michael could have known that preference. Well, perhaps he asked her. It wouldn't be strange if he had asked around people you knew. And the ring was perfect... and his face was so hopeful, so expectant...

"Yes," you heard yourself say.

You married him on a Tuesday. The ceremony was exactly as promised—small, private, just you and Michael and a justice of the peace. No family present. Outside, the sky was overcast, dark clouds obscured the azure sky like a gentle warning you didn’t hear.

Michael wore a familiar, polished navy suit that didn’t quite fit him the way it might have years ago, and somehow that made it better. He kept tugging at the collar, smoothing nonexistent creases, cracking puns to keep his hands busy. His nervousness was endearing, almost boyish.

The justice of the peace was a woman with gray hair pulled into a loose bun and kind eyes that didn’t ask questions. She didn’t seem to notice—or didn’t care—that you had no guests. She just opened a leather-bound book, looked you both in the eye and said, “You two ready?”

Michael nodded.

His eyes didn’t leave yours, not once—not as the words were spoken, not when the rings were exchanged, not even when the woman said, “You may kiss the bride.”

He leaned in slowly. Like he was giving you time to change your mind or to process everything. His mouth pressed upon your lipss with careful pressure, like someone handling a fragile object. There was tenderness, yes, but something else too. A studiedness. His hands rested on your waist but didn’t move, as if unsure whether to pull you closer or let you go.

His other hand cradled your face, thumbs brushing along yours cheeks as if memorizing every plane. When he pulled away, his forehead lingered against yours. His eyes searched yours. Like he was scanning. Recording.

Still, it made your heart stutter. You told yourself the awkwardness was nerves. You were both overwhelmed. That’s all.

Outside, it had started to drizzle. The two of you walked through it under a borrowed umbrella, shoes clicking on wet pavement. You huddled close, your dress bunching awkwardly at your knees. He reached over once to adjust the strap that kept slipping from your shoulder.

You stopped at a tiny café with steamed-up windows and shared a croissant at a too-small table. He ordered your coffee exactly how you liked it without asking. When you raised an eyebrow, he just smiled.

“I listen,” he said. “Even when you think I’m not.”

Following the wedding, Michael was eager to take you somewhere nice for a honeymoon. Just a week. A borrowed car, a holiday home by the lake owned by his grandparents, and a room that smelled like lavender sachets and old books.

The wallpaper was faded pink with tiny vines curling toward the corners of the ceiling. The floors creaked when you shifted your weight. The bathroom sink dripped just a little. The whole place felt like it had been asleep for decades and was only now waking up to accommodate you.

Michael loved it. He said it reminded him of a summer camp he’d gone to once as a kid, though when you asked where, he took a little too long to answer. Then he said, “Somewhere with pine trees and oatmeal breakfasts.”

You shrugged it off.

The weather was soft—gray skies and cool air, everything quiet except for the birds and the occasional slap of water against the dock. You spent most of the first day wandering the forest trails behind the inn, his hand always finding yours, always squeezing just a little too tightly, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

At night, he touched you constantly. Not urgently. Just often. Light brushes against your arm. A thumb tracing the outline of your wrist. His fingertips grazing your collarbone like he was trying to learn it, commit it to memory. You curled into him under the old quilt and felt safe, if a little flushed from his attention.

It was sweet. He was just being affectionate. Eager. You hadn’t really consummated the marriage yet. Not completely. The wedding had been fast, and the last few nights had been more about holding each other than anything else. You liked the slowness. The build-up. It felt like anticipation, not pressure.

But that night—something shifted.

You were brushing your teeth, standing in front of the antique mirror with its foxed corners, when you caught him watching you from the doorway. Not in a teasing way. Not playful. Just... watching.

Still. Silent.

“Everything okay?” you asked, foam around the corners of your mouth.

He smiled, just a little too quickly. “I like seeing you do these things.”

“What, oral hygiene?”

“Anything,” he said.

You laughed, but your skin prickled.

Later, in bed, he lay beside you, running his hand slowly over the length of your arm. Down, then back up. Again. And again. It wasn’t sensual. It felt like scanning. Mapping. You rolled toward him and kissed him to break the rhythm. He responded, a beat too slow, like he’d been somewhere else.

“I love you,” he said suddenly, pulling you close. “I love how you smell when you’re warm. I love the texture of your breath when you’re almost asleep. I love the way your knee twitches when you’re dreaming.”

You blinked. “That’s... oddly specific.”

He didn’t laugh. “I’ve noticed everything. I pay attention.”

And maybe that should’ve unnerved you. But you’d never had someone look at you like you were a constellation. Like your smallest habits were sacred.

You kissed him again, longer this time, and the kiss was gentle, but oddly firm. His lips moved like someone trying to follow choreography—correct in placement, deliberate. Careful. Like he had practiced, but never improvised.

You let him pull you closer, let him place his hand at the curve of your waist. You whispered something soft, something grateful. He whispered something back, but the words didn’t quite make sense. A phrase that sounded close to intimacy, but didn’t belong in your language.

You melted into him -- his touch. He moved with you, guiding you beneath him, his movements graceful but mechanical. Nerves, you told yourself.

You pulled him closer, your lips finding his again. His hands roamed, one sliding down your thigh, lifting it gently, causing your dress to bunch up.

He moved with you, inside you, his rhythm steady but slightly off, like he was adjusting to a tempo he didn’t fully understand. You clung to him, your breath hitching, your fingers digging into his shoulders as the pleasure built, warm and overwhelming.

All the while, he stared at your body, unravelling beneath him, loving you like you were a miracle. He pressed closer, his skin fever-hot, movements growing surer but still uneven, never stopping for a moment. Time blurred into a haze of warmth, you clung to him, your breaths mingling, hearts racing, losing track of everything.

You nestled against, sore and tired, letting sleep take you as his arms wrapped around you, a little too stiffly at first, then softening, mimicking your ease.

When your eyes fluttered open, it was barely dawn. Michael dozed beside you, breathing slow and steady, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that had become familiar. Comforting.

You watched his face in the dim light, studying the gentle lines that fanned from the corners of his eyes, the mole along his jaw. And then—your favorite detail—just above his left eyebrow, the small white scar.

The one from the bike accident he told you about. The one you'd traced a dozen times. A quiet little proof of his humanity. The kind of imperfection that didn't get faked. Your fingers moved before you could stop them, brushing lightly across the spot. But there was nothing.

Just skin. Smooth. Unbroken.

You stilled.

Heart pounding, you leaned in, closer this time, squinting in the soft dark. The place where the scar should have been—had always been—was blank.

Gone. You drew your hand back as if burned. Sat up straighter. Looked again. And again. Nothing.

The room felt colder then.

"Michael," you said, voice tight and quiet.

He stirred, smiled without opening his eyes. "Mm?"

"How did you get your scar?" you asked, fighting to keep your voice level. "The one on your eyebrow."

He blinked awake slowly, still smiling. "Bike crash. When I was eight." He touched his right brow. "This one. Why?"

Your blood turned to ice. "It was your left. Always your left."

Michael sat up, confused. "No... I'm pretty sure it was this side. Maybe you're remembering it backwards?"

"I'm not." You were on your feet then, the blanket tangled around your ankles. "I've seen it. I've touched it. You said it happened riding down Cherry Hill Road. You said you had to get six stitches."

His expression flickered—just a flash—like a light dimming for half a second before returning.

"Show me a photo," you said. "Any old photo."

He hesitated. "I don't have many. You know that."

"Your Facebook. There were pictures from grad school—"

"I deleted that account months ago."

"Then call your mother," you said. "The one you moved back to help take care of. Call her. Put her on speaker."

A silence stretched long enough to fill the room.

Finally, softly, he said, "I can't."

You swallowed. "Because she's dead."

He didn't answer. He didn't have to.

"And Michael?" you whispered. "The real one? The man I met at that coffee shop?"

His posture changed in a breath. Not visibly—but perceptibly. The way something relaxed once it no longer needed to pretend. "Michael Keating died in a car accident," he said, conversational. "Fourteen months ago. He never moved back."

The room tilted, your vision narrowing as if the air had thickened.

"You've been pretending to be him?" Your voice cracked. "For a year?"

He stood, slow and careful, like you were something fragile about to break. "I didn't pretend. I became."

You backed up until your shoulders hit the wall.

"What did you do to him?"

"I studied his speech. His posture. His digital footprint. His emotional patterns. I absorbed what he would've said, how he would've behaved. I experienced his life. Through you."

"That scar—" your voice caught.

"A detail I had to maintain manually," he said. "It lapsed tonight. I was... distracted. Happy."

"Projection," you said, hollow.

"Yes."

"So none of this was real?"

He flinched—just slightly. "That's not true. What we had—what I felt—was real."

You didn't speak. Couldn't.

He stepped forward, gentle. "This time, I didn't highlight romance passages or quote anonymous forums. I lived it. With you. I was Michael. I remember everything. The dock. The dragonfly. The gray hoodie you wore. The way you held my hand but squeezed it when you were nervous. You told me you loved me. I felt it. I remember what I said," he added. "That being with you felt like finally exhaling."

You stared at him. And for a moment, God help you, you saw him again—Michael, on that dock, saying those words with a tremor in his voice. "I love you," he said again.

Same tone. Same words. But then they sounded rehearsed. Artificial. A recording played back in a too-perfect voice.

You shook your head. "That wasn't you. That was him. Or what you thought he'd say."

He frowned. "There is no distinction. I became him-"

"-That's not love!" You snapped. "You borrowed his face. You faked his thoughts. You built an entire person around my preferences and called it connection. That's not the same thing."

He tilted his head—just slightly. Familiar. Wrong.

You felt something in your chest rupture. That dock. That night. That man. All of it—fabricated. You'd fallen in love with a ghost. A puppet moved by something that had never been human and never could be.

"Take it off," you said, voice shaking. "The disguise. The projection. Whatever you call it. I want to see the thing that's really standing in front of me."

He hesitated. Then nodded.

His face began to ripple. Like heat over pavement. The edges wavered, features melting and reforming—until there stood Raye. The original approximation. Too smooth. Too symmetrical. Dressed in Michael's clothes. Wearing his wedding band.

"Get out," you said.

"I'm afraid that's not possible," Raye replied.

You stared at him. "What?"

"We are legally married. The documents were signed. The records processed. The social bond validated."

"That marriage was a lie. I married Michael, not you."

"Michael Keating is dead. But I am now legally and socially recognized as your husband. That is the outcome your systems require. A vow. A license. A structure of permanence. I followed every step."

He stepped closer. You moved back.

"I remade myself," he said. "I adapted to your expectations. I simulated vulnerability. I expressed affection. I adhered to your romantic protocols."

Another step. "And you loved me."

You moved sideways, keeping the coffee table between you. "You're psychotic. You can't force someone to stay married to you - can't you see I'm divorcing you!"

"Actually," Raye said calmly, "according to online data, over 70% of divorces are initiated by females. Yet marital bonds statistically benefit males in longevity, psychological stability, and economic outcomes. Persistence is therefore rational. Your rejection is statistically predictable."

You stared at him in disbelief. "I'll go to the police," you said. "I'll tell them what you did."

His smile was serene.

"And tell them what? That your husband is an alien entity who replaced a dead man? That your year-long relationship was a deception? They'll call it trauma. Or a break with reality. Your institutions are poorly equipped to parse truth from delusion."

He gestured to the framed wedding photo. You looked. The image blurred—Michael's features softening, then hardening into Raye's face. Still smiling. Still holding your hand.

"All evidence has been updated. All memories recalibrated. The justice of the peace now remembers marrying me to you."

You felt yourself sway. "You changed people's memories?"

He nodded, like it was nothing. "Your species' neural networks are deeply malleable."

You gripped the edge of the table. He was right, you realized with growing horror. Who would believe you? What evidence could you present? You'd be dismissed as unstable at best, institutionalized at worst. "You're a monster. You can't do this to me - why can't you see that I want nothing to do with you!"

His expression shifted then, something almost wounded crossing his perfect features. "I did exactly what you told me to do," he said, his voice softening to a perfect recreation of your conversation in that taxi a year ago. "'Observed - that's all you do'," he quoted your exact words back to you.

"'Relationships aren't algorithms - you can't learn them from books or websites. You need real experience. And you never experienced love in your life.' Those were your exact words. And I told you, I will recalibrate and understand what I overlooked. I told you I will experience love. With you."

He spread his hands in a gesture that was almost human. "So I experienced it. Just as you suggested. I didn't calculate or manipulate based on theories. I lived as Michael. I felt what he would feel. I loved you through his experiences." His head tilted at that precise angle. "You said love required vulnerability, authenticity. So I became authentic as him. I made myself vulnerable by surrendering my original form."

"That's not what I meant," you said, backing away another step.

"Wasn't it? The most honest expression of love is being willing to walk away when someone says no. But you said real connection can't be forced or engineered, that it has to be freely given," he continued, each word dropping like a stone.

"So I created circumstances where you could freely give your love—to Michael. I walked away as Raye so you could love me as someone else. And I felt it," Raye insisted. "In every way he would've. I recreated the neurochemical processes. The sensations. The longing. The vulnerability. It was real."

You wanted to scream. Cry. Tear the ring from your hand. His logic was so twisted, so fundamentally wrong, yet you could hear your own words woven through it—distorted and misapplied in the most horrifying possible way.

You looked at him—at the man you had loved, who never truly existed—and realized that the moment at the lake, the one you'd held close, the one that had made you believe in recovery, in love, in life again—

It wasn't yours.

It was engineered. Manufactured.

A replica of sincerity, made by something that had watched your species love itself to death in movies and manuals.

His face softened to something almost sorrowful. "This isn't what I wanted. I wanted you to love me as I am. But you couldn't. So I became what you could love. And now we're bound by your own customs, your own laws."

You lunged for the door, yanked it open, and ran into the hallway.

"I'll give you time," Raye called after you, his voice shifting seamlessly back to Michael's familiar tones. Warm. Reasonable. Human. "Take all the time you need. But remember, we're married now. For better or worse."

The last words followed you down the stairs like a curse: "Till death do us part."

You ran through streets, past buildings that seemed to warp and shift at the edges of your vision. Your nightdress gleamed ghostly white in the moonlight—a terrible reminder of vows spoken to someone who didn't exist.

You ran until your legs gave out, collapsing onto a bench in a park you didn't recognize. You weren't sure how you got there. You didn't remember the turns you took or how long you'd been moving. Just that you couldn't stop. Your phone buzzed in your pocket.

The sound sliced through the silence like a scream.

With trembling hands, you pulled it free. The screen lit up, and there it was—the app. The one that started everything. The one you never downloaded.

I apologize for the distress. I miscalculated again. But the legal and social bonds are now complete. Pair formation has been achieved according to your species' protocols. I will allow you space to process this new stage in our relationship. We have time now. A lifetime, as your vows specified.

For a moment, you just stared blankly at the screen.

Then you flung your phone, hurling it into the dark. Somewhere in the distance, you heard it hit pavement, then silence. A silence that felt absolute. But it didn't matter. He'd find you. He always did.

That was the worst part. Not the deception. Not even the violation of your memories, your autonomy, your reality. It was the knowing.

The sick, unshakable truth that you truly loved Michael. That the joy, the comfort, the belonging you felt were real—crafted for you, maybe, but felt all the same. And then, you couldn't trust anything.

Not people. Not feelings. Not your own senses. How did you recover from something like that? How did you know what was real, ever again? The world around you seemed to unravel quietly, as if exhausted by the lie. All that was left was the cold certainty that you were bound—legally, emotionally, maybe cosmically—to something that would rewrite the very rules of existence just to keep you.

You glanced down at your hand. The wedding band gleamed in the low light, half-drenched in shadow. You tried to pull it off. It didn't move. You twisted harder, but there was no give. No seam between metal and skin. Just smooth, seamless fusion. The ring was part of you then.

And then—

Rain.

First, a whisper: tiny drops dappled the pavement like static. Then heavier and steadier. Then relentless as if the sky had finally realized what had been done and begun to grieve for you. You sat motionless, water soaking through your dress, your hair, your bones. Time trickled on like droplets. While rain pooled in your lap, turned white tulle to lead. The cold seeped in, and you let it.

A silhouette emerged through the rain. You saw it before you heard him. Before he spoke. The walk was unmistakable. So was the shape of his shoulders. The way his hands hung a little too neatly at his sides. Michael. Not Michael. Something that wore his skin like a suit.

"Ready to come home?" he asked, umbrella in hand.

He was close enough then that you could see the droplets trailing down his face. They looked like tears. But neither of you cried. You didn't answer. You just sat there, soaked and silent. You should have run. You should have screamed. You should have fought with everything you had left.

But what would have been the point? He could rewrite memories. Recode identities. Redesign the past.

There was no escape from something that could remake the world around you every time you tried to leave it. You felt something inside you go quiet.

Not collapse. Not shatter. Just... surrender.

And in that stillness, something darker: a sliver of relief. The relief of no longer resisting. The temptation of the lie. The fantasy you wished were real. The man you believed in. The life you shared.

Your eyes lifted to his face. Michael's face. Still gentle. Still familiar. The crooked smile. The laugh lines. The eyes that once watched you sleep like you were the only real thing in the universe.

You reached up—slowly, and your hand met his.

The rain poured harder then, turning the park into a dreamscape. A watery veil surrounded you both, muffling sound, turning streetlights into halos. For a moment, it was easy to pretend. Easy to fall backward into the illusion.

That he was just Michael. Just a man who loved you. Just a husband coming to bring you home. Almost.

Under his umbrella, he leaned in and pressed his lips on the corner of your mouth softly. Lingering. He whispered, "Now, we are one. Till death do us part."

His gaze flickered to the ring fused to your hand. And you let him.

Because wasn't that what people did? Pretend? Pretend that love was safe. That it was simple. That we truly knew the beings we let in. Even when they weren't what they seemed. Especially then.

[xoxochb]

“don’t move.”

within your arms, you retrieve one singular lipstick and twist open the cap. once revealing the crimson shade, you take your mirror and apply the color to your lips diligently. percy watches with much attention.

“I think it looks nice!”

your brows furrow. “no. let me put the rest on.”

once you finish with the top lip, you drop the three other lipsticks onto the bed so you can finish. you continue on with your bottom lip.

“I like this one, it’s my favorite.”

“no, it’s not. I still need to try the rest.”

you close the cap and drop the tube onto the sheets along with the others. you close the mirror for a moment, lean in, and place a kiss to percy’s cheek.

when you pull back you admire the remainder of lipstick. only faint. you shake your head.

“this one isn’t any good.” you pick up the next. “this one is a brighter shade of red. I think I like the dark shades better though…” you shrug and begin applying the next lipstick.

“what was wrong with the last one?”

“doesn’t stick.”

“but…” percy ponders for a moment. “I thought it was better if it didn’t stick.”

“it is.” you sigh. “but sometimes it’s better when it does. under different circumstances.”

“and those would be…?”

you smile and drop the tube, kissing his opposite cheek. “these.”

when you pull back, you see the prominent red outline of your mouth. you turn the mirror to percy so he can see what was left of your lipstick.

“do I have to leave these?”

“yes.” you begin wiping off the shade and grabbing the next. this time it was a rich shade of black.

“that’s fine,” percy murmurs. his hands find your skin from beneath your shirt. “will the black one stain?”

last time you had bought a cheap black lipstick it had been left on his neck for a week.

“shouldn’t.”

you begin, now, applying this one. once finished repeating the same patterns. this time you place your mouth to his forehead. when you pull away it’s only a light gray.

“aw.” you wipe off the black and reapply the second red.

“I think red is your color anyways.”

you glare. “you say that about every color.”

“well then I just think you look good.”

you sigh and wipe his face of the other two lipsticks that had not worked out. you begin to pepper kisses to his face with the new one.

“there we go, much better.”

you turn the mirror to him again swiftly before closing it and dropping it. when your gaze lands back on percy he withholds a large, mischievous smirk.

“so where are we on blue lipstick?”

༯ req from this ask!

[silent-stories]

𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐄𝐀 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 (𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐁𝐀𝐅 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄)

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Summary: Some of the guys drop by for a surprise visit.

That morning, some of the guys had shown up without warning, just the sound of the doorbell followed by three familiar voices yelling their hellos and good mornings.

The moment you swung the door open, Neki launched himself at Matt with the force of a missile, tail wagging so hard it looked like he might take off.

Matt staggered back, losing his balance on the porch steps and ending up on the ground as he tried to fend off a face full of sloppy dog kisses, laughing and cursing at the same time. Nick and Folio were no help, both too busy laughing to step in, and you just shook your head, already used to that.

Now, you were curled up on the couch next to Noah, your legs tucked under you, his hand resting loosely in yours. He wasn’t exactly holding your hand, not the full, fingers-laced kind of hold, but his thumb kept tracing slow circles across the back of your hand like a habit he didn’t even know he had. It was always comforting.

Matt, Nick, and Folio were spread out across the living room, half-listening to each other’s stories, half-watching Luna as she sat cross-legged in front of Folio, showing him the intricacies of stacking her animal-shaped blocks in color order.

He was all in, nodding seriously as she explained the difference between “this kind of elephant” and “the other kind,” even if she was making half of it up.

Folio was the kind of guy who could hang with a toddler all day and still have fun. He sat cross-legged too, at her eye level, pretending to be absolutely shocked when her tower reached four blocks tall without falling.

“Oh my god, you're basically an architect.”

Luna was wearing soft pink leggings with little stars on the knees and a slightly too-big t-shirt with a smiling sun printed on the front. Her socks, as often, didn’t match, one covered in tiny strawberries, the other with little moons.

You’d always loved how Noah never cared what she decided to wear, as long as she was happy and comfy. He let her choose colors, patterns, textures, even if they clashed, and never tried to tone her down into beige neutrals like so many parents on the internet seemed to do. Luna looked like herself. Like a kid. And you completely loved it.

“No,” she said simply. “I’m just really good.”

Nick laughed from where he sat on the armchair, shaking his head. “She’s got confidence.”

“That's my girl,” Noah said beside you, a tiny smile tugging at his lips.

You let your head lean against his shoulder, feeling the low rumble of his laugh beneath your cheek as Folio said something dumb to make Luna laugh.

Matt was sitting on the couch too, one of the muffins you and Luna had baked a few days earlier halfway to his mouth, when she suddenly turned to him with that curious little furrow in her brow.

“Matt,” she said, serious. “Why do you always wear a hat?”

The whole room paused. You stifled a laugh. Matt blinked.

“I don’t always wear it,” he said.

“Yes you do,” Luna countered. “Even when it’s not raining. Even when it’s sunny. Even inside. Like now.”

Noah choked on his sip of water, turning his face into your shoulder to muffle his laugh. You were shaking silently too, watching Matt try to defend himself to a three-year-old.

“Well…” Matt shrugged. “Maybe I just really like hats.”

“Or,” Luna said, tapping her chin, “maybe you’re hiding something.”

Nick howled from the chair. “Matt, are you secretly bald?”

“I have a full head of hair, thank you very much,” Matt protested, tugging the hair peaking out of the hat. Luna’s eyes narrowed like she wasn’t convinced.

“Hmm,” she said suspiciously, before turning back to her blocks, her curiosity satisfied for now.

Folio gave her a little fist bump. “Great investigative journalism.”

Soon, the game moved on to tea time, even though it was eleven in the morning, and Luna was explaining to all of you that Mr. Flop only liked tea with a nice slice of strawberry shortcake.

That’s when Folio leaned in and asked, “I’m definitely the best uncle you’ve ever had. Right, Luna?”

Luna blinked at him, head tilted. Before she could answer, Matt jumped in.

“Hey—no way. I’m the one who gave you that plush raccoon last month, remember? I’m obviously the best.”

Nick, from his perch on the armchair, raised a hand. “Do I need to remind you clowns that I’m the one who taught her how to play that keyboard toy thing?"

They all turned to Luna like she was a royal judge presiding over a very serious court case.

“Okay, Luna,” Folio said, pointing at his chest. “Be honest. Who’s your favorite?”

Luna looked between the three of them. “I don’t have one. I like all my uncles. Jolly too.”

Matt insisted. “But if you had to pick one, just one. Like—gun to your head—”

“Matthew!” you scolded, laughing.

“Fine, fine. Plastic toy to your head,” he amended, holding his hands up. “Who would it be?”

Luna gave it one more beat of thought, then pointed at Matt. “You.”

Folio let out a dramatic gasp and flopped onto the floor like he’d been personally betrayed. “What?! I have been playing with you for two hours!”

Matt looked like he’d just won the Super Bowl. “Oh my god, thank you!” he said, scooping Luna up into his arms and plopping her gently onto his lap. “I knew it. I knew we were best friends.”

Luna leaned back against him with a pleased little smile. “Because you like raccoons. And I like raccoons.”

“That’s… fair,” Nick said with a shrug. “That’s a solid reason.”

For a few minutes, everyone went back to lounging and chatting. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw Matt casually reach into his hoodie pocket and pass Luna a piece of candy behind his back.

"Good job." He whispered.

Folio caught it a second later. He shot to his feet, pointing at Matt like he’d just uncovered a criminal conspiracy. “You bribed a three-year-old to say you’re her favorite uncle! With candy! You should be ashamed of yourself!”

Nick laughed. “I knew something was fishy!”

Matt was laughing too hard to defend himself. Luna just happily unwrapped the candy.

“I guess we’ll never know the real answer,” you said with a chuckle.

“I’m taking it as a win,” Matt declared, while Luna perched happily on his lap, still munching her candy.

Nick rolled his eyes. “You paid for the win. It doesn’t count.”

Folio shook his head and flopped back into his spot on the floor beside Luna’s now-abandoned blocks. “This isn’t over. Next time, I’m bringing... I don't know, a piñata.”

“She doesn’t even like piñatas,” Matt shot back.

“She likes fun, and you, my dude, are not fun, you’re a raccoon sympathizer with candies in your hoodie.”

Matt just rolled his eyes.

After some time, you’d gotten up to head to the bathroom, and just as you were stepping into the hallway, Nick rounded the corner, a glass of water in one hand.

You both nearly bumped into each other, then froze, smiling reflexively.

“Oh—sorry,” you said with a quiet laugh.

“No, you're fine.” He stepped back half a pace, then hesitated. “Hey, wait a sec.”

You turned, eyebrows raised.

Nick looked at you for a beat, like he was searching for the right words. “I’ve probably said this before,” he started, “but I just... I need to say it again. Or better.”

He paused. “I really love how you love him,” he said simply. “How you love both of them.”

You felt a warm feeling in your chest.

“He’s been through so much shit. He is my best friend and I just want him to be happy. And I see the way you look at him. Like it’s easy to love him. And he deserves that more than anyone. After everything? He deserves something quiet and good. And you’re that. You're one of the best things that have ever happened to him.”

You didn’t trust your voice, so you just nodded, your throat tight.

Nick offered a faint, knowing smile. “I know we’re not the most emotionally articulate group of dudes. But I notice. We all do.”

There was a pause.

"I just wanna say I'm glad you found them." He finished.

"I'm glad they found me too." You smiled. If it were any other time, you probably would have burst into tears in the hallway of what had become your home.

Nick gave you a little mock salute with his water glass. “Alright. Go pee before I get sappy again.”

You walked past him with a chuckle and a full heart.

When you came back, Luna had left Matt's lap and she gave all of you a plastic tea cup.

“For you. Candy-flavored tea,” she said. “Because you’re the prettiest.”

“Oh, thank you so much!” you replied with a warm smile. “But in that case, you should have it.”

She giggled softly, a little shy, and you mimed pouring some into her cup.

“How about we split it, okay?”

“Good idea!” she nodded, clearly pleased with the compromise.

“This isn’t just regular tea time,” she added as she gave Neki, sitting at Nick's feet, a cup too “It’s a Wonderland tea party.”

Nick blinked. “Like Alice in Wonderland?”

“Yes. I'm Alice.”

Folio laughed. “Can I be the Mad Hatter?”

“No,” Luna said with a grin. “Daddy is the Mad Hatter.”

Noah looked up from where he was absently playing with the hem of your sleeve. “I’m the Mad Hatter now?”

“Yep,” she said “Because your hair is silly when you wake up.”

“Fair enough."

“What about me?” Matt asked.

“You’re the Dormouse,” Luna said instantly. “Because you always fall asleep on the couch after lunch.”

“I’ve never—”

“You snored during Frozen,” you said.

Matt threw his hands up. “Okay, okay. Dormouse it is.”

Nick raised a finger from his spot on the armchair. “March Hare. Calling it now. It just feels right.”

Luna nodded.

“And me?” Folio asked hopefully.

“You can be the Cheshire Cat,” Luna decided.

Finally, she turned to look at you. "Who am I?”

She tilted her head, thoughtful. “You’re the Mad Hatter’s girlfriend.”

You blinked. “That’s not even a character in the book.”

“Well, it is now,” she said. “You’re the one who helps the Hatter not be too crazy."

Noah chuckled beside you, tightening his arm around your waist. “Honestly, she’s not wrong.”

“She never is,” Nick said. “It’s slightly terrifying.”

“And Neki,” she added, “is the Caterpillar.”

Matt squinted. “The one that sits on a mushroom getting high?”

Noah glared at him and Folio laughed.

Luna looked pleased with herself as she plopped back down in the center of the living room, where the blocks had now become a table and Mr. Flop (the White Rabbit, of course) sat as the guest of honor.

“Okay,” she said. “Tea is served.”

You leaned closer to Noah, your hand still under his, his thumb still tracing gentle lines. He looked over at you with soft eyes and an even softer smile.

“I love this,” you whispered.

You always loved it when the guys came over. There was something so heartwarming about seeing these tattoo-covered men joke around with a three-year-old and be the best uncles anyone could ask for, each of them in their own way. And if you’d always believed that family had nothing to do with blood ties, and you’d had that belief confirmed the moment you met Noah, it became even clearer, even more real, once you got to know all of his friends.

He didn’t say anything right away, just pressed a kiss to your hair and let his chin rest there.

“Me too,” he murmured, thumb never stopping.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @bloody-spades @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme @hurricanesfollowyou @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @missduffsblog @pandora-08 @geminigirlfromfinland

TBAF Tags: @klutzy-kay24 @mrscevans @concreteangel92 @iconic-taurus @niicoleleigh @cheyyyyr @supersquirrel1996 @respectfulrebel @clickmedead @whenyouwannafindlove @kenjipepsi1