#this may have taken several weeks lol

[lunapwrites]

You'll Understand

It was an eyeroll-evoking statement, even then: you'll understand when you have your own. If anything, Lily thought, she understood far less.

When Harry had come screaming into the world - full-chested bellows, really, very healthy the midwife said - she didn't feel the swell of transcendent love her own parents had promised. She felt... unmoored. Confused, even. Where did you come from? her body seemed to say - far from a rejection, but more curious than accepting, even as she gathered the still-sticky infant to her breast. He had gazed up at her with unfocused eyes, sharp little nails clawing gently but insistently at her bared flesh, as James had sobbed openly beside her and she simply stared. Ten fingers, ten toes, and a wild mop of dark hair. A tiny rosebud mouth that sucked at the open air, searching. Hers, and yet his own.

She was no stranger to exhaustion - not during a war - nor to overwhelm, nor to her temper getting the better of her. The newness was more in how she bore it - with a patience she did not know she possessed. It was in how her body felt, in the way it moved. She ached. She bled. She watched her breasts in fascination as tiny beads of pearl white liquid pooled up at the tips, dripping at a single warbling cry from her son. And that, too, was new - her son. She had a son.

And her son - her Harry - was a tiny, needy thing. Always wanted to be held. Needed to hear her heartbeat as he slept. He'd fussed and cried and she cried because she couldn't distinguish hunger from gas pains from a cry for comfort, screaming until they were both red in the face.

For his part, James had stayed up all night with the baby Harry her son!. He fixed breakfast in the mornings, and supper in the evenings. Laundered the nappies and the blankets and the tiny babygrows with impossible amounts of stains on them. He'd forgotten to eat or sleep the first few days. He'd gotten rather sharp with the cat for trying to lick the baby's face. Ready, even then, to protect him.

For hers, Lily had begun to learn what she was capable of. The limits of her patience. Her ability to juggle - sometimes literally. Her pain threshold tried and tested by the crush of labour, by the angry inch of once-torn flesh that she could swear still stung, by the sharp stabbing agony of an improper latch, delicate flesh gnashed in deceptively strong jaws - and yet still, she had held him gently. Cradled him as he tore at her, howling in pain. The instinct to clench, to jerk away from the source overridden by... something. A need to shield him, no matter the cost to herself, that came as easily as breathing.

It terrified her, the way her body seemed to move of its own accord now. The way she could be Lily in one breath, and Mother the next. The way she could be the lamb and the knife and the hand that held it all at once. The way the stories had it all wrong, that she had made this tiny God in her own image, carried him beneath the cradle of her ribs, and every atom in her body still ached to put him back: safe.

And now, a year later, there were new terrors: a crooked length of bone-white wood leveled at her heart - at the tiny boy shielded behind her (outside her body, not safe.) The knowledge that this man - that anyone - would, without hesitation, snuff out the life she had so carefully preserved through so many (not enough) tear-filled days and long, sleepless nights. The thought of the one thing she could not, would not bear.

(She didn't think about what it meant that he was here, in the nursery, and James was not. She couldn't; there was no time.)

Lily reached behind her back blindly, her hand finding five little fingers wrapped around the bars of his crib. One last moment to marvel at him, to wish for him to grow healthy and happy and strong. To run her thumb over his knuckles, still damp from chewing his fist. She felt him reach out with the other, gripping the back of her nightshirt as he whined, as she willed a silent apology into his soft skin, as her unwilling mouth opened of its own accord and the last words she'd ever speak spilled into the merciless night.

"Take me instead."

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

How and what happens if the reader was pregnant during mating season and had all of the other kids?

Big family and big… week? Lol

Sudden Mating Season (18+)

Bayverse!Turtles x reader

A/N: I think that most of the kids are products of some… successful mating seasons. I mean, that’s what the mating seasons are for, right? It is also my belief that the guys' mating seasons will take a bit of a back burner after they’ve had children, but that doesn’t mean it’ll last forever (I mean, haven’t you noticed the 10 years between Valentina and Gerardo?). But honestly I think it would be somewhat well planned out, with the kids going to their grandparents for the week.

Warnings: Implied sex, planned/unplanned pregnancy.

Leonardo:

After you and Leonardo’s third child, his mating seasons seemed to have taken a calm for good. Leo’s animalistic instinct to spread his seed in order to create offsprings calmed with the birth of Gerardo. So that was it, you and Leo thought. No longer would you have to send your kids off to their grandparents for a whole week, so you and Leo could go at it inside your shared bedroom. So for the next many years, you and Leo would bring your kids along to April and Casey’s farm house for a family vacation, leaving the lair to the other turtles and their partners as they went through their season. That went on every year, until Leo’s brothers too no longer felt their season creep upon them during the spring. And with that, none of the people in the lair seemed too concerned about spring time, thinking that those days were nothing but the past.

But then, 10 years after the birth of your third child, things changed once again. Leo woke up the day before May with a strange feeling inside of him. His senses were heightened, and he felt the intense need to… oh no.

You woke up to Leo shaking you awake in the early hours of the morning, almost seeming frantic, stress painted over his face.

“Call your parents”, he said urgently.

“What? Why? What’s happening?”, you asked in confusion, feeling concern take the place of your tiredness.

“It’s back”, Leo said, already sounding very drained, breathing heavily as if he was suffering. “I’m not sure how or why, but it’s back. It can be here at any moment”.

You stared at him for some time, trying to figure out what he was talking about. But then it clicked in your head, remembering the last time you had seen Leo like this. Spring time 10 years ago.

“I’ll call them, and tell them to take the kids”, you said, quickly grabbing your phone before leaving for the hallway.

“Thank you”, Leo sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. He already felt horrible. Like he was a young teenager experiencing his first mating season all over again. Here he thought he had heard the last of it, but nope. He could feel his season creep closer and closer, threatening to take over at any moment.

Luckily for you and Leo, your parents agreed to take the kids for the week. You did not have to tell them what was going on. They understood straight away, having been through this several times before.

Your parents quickly came by and picked up the kids, Leo’s brothers quickly understanding what was going on, making sure that none of their kids would walk too close to your hallway. You hugged your boys goodbye, calming Gerardo’s worries quickly, when he asked if his father was okay. Poor boy, he had never tried this before, and he had obviously noticed that his father wasn’t doing too well. Romeo and Marcello had looked at you with a grossed out expression, exclaiming loudly that they did not want to be the ones that explained the season to their little brother. Luckily you didn't have to worry about that, before your parents took the boys out of the lair.

You and Leo found yourselves locked up in your room, in a way you hadn’t done in years. And when the week was over, Leo was once again calm, excited to be with his boys again the next day. But as you cleaned yourself up and decided to take a pregnancy test, just out of pure mating season habits, you were shocked at the outcome. You were now pregnant with your fourth child, and never again would Leo experience another mating season.

Raphael:

You woke up to the feeling of Raph’s lips traveling down your back, his big hand massaging the flesh of your hips. You hummed and tried to push Raph’s hand away, pulling the blanket up around you.

“Not right now, Raphie”, you mumbled, your eyes still closed. “The girls can wake up at any moment”.

Raph chuckled in his raspy morning voice, grabbing onto you a bit firmer pulling you closer to him, his breath fanning over the side of your neck as he spoke into your ear sending shivers down your spine.

“Have you already forgotten your parents picked them up yesterday?”, he asked, burying his face against the crock of your neck, trailing kisses down your shoulder.

Your eyes opened in an instant, remembering what Raph was talking about. Your parents had been over yesterday, eating lunch with you, Raph and the girls, before they brought Joan and Mini with them, just like they did any other spring. And that’s when your sleepy brain caught up with Raph’s hand that was running down from your hip to the inside of your thigh. It was springtime.

“I guess I have”, you smiled, focusing on the feeling of the thick green finger that was playing with the edge of your panties. “What about the others? Are they home?”

“Nope”, Raph smiled, taking in your scent like it was a drug he was addicted to. “They are either with the inlaws or in April and Casey’s farm house”.

“So we’re all alone?”, you asked with a hint of amusement in your voice.

“Yup”, Raph hummed, pulling your thigh closer to him, the back of your thigh coming into contact with his now slick cloaca. Excitement building up inside of you, knowing that he could drop at any moment. “So I’ll not let you hold any of your beautiful sounds back”.

You turned, just enough so that you could look at Raph’s face, his pupils blown out with lust as he buckled slightly against you in an attempt to create some friction where he needed it the most.

“Do your worst”, you teasted, giving Raph the green light, letting him jump on you as you let out a playful yelp.

—

Around a week later, your parents brought Joan and Minerva back to the lair, greeting you and Raph with big hugs and bright smiles, along with new toys and many detailed stories.

7 year old Joan was telling you and Raph about a movie she saw with your parents over lunch, while 3 year old Mini played with the new monster truck she had gotten, making it jump over her plate of apple slices.

You and Raph were engaging Joan in her story, while keeping an eye out for Mini’s monster truck, but then a scent made its way to Raph’s beak. He did a few sniffs before turning his attention towards you, the gear turning in his head as he tried to remember the last time you had smelled like that. Then he realized what he was smelling, what hormones were starting to flow through your system and what it meant.

“You’re pregnant?!”, he exclaimed, looking somewhat shocked, you and your daughters staring at him in confusion.

But Raph was right. When you took a test later that day, you were delighted to learn that you indeed were pregnant once again.

Donatello:

For the first few years after Galileo’s birth, you and Donnie did not think that you wanted more children. After Gali came to the world, it took four years before Donnie’s mating season came back, and with that, a desire for more children. However, much to you and Donnie’s dismay, you did not become pregnant with his first returning mating season. After a whole week locked up in your bedroom, you were still not pregnant. But that didn’t stop you and Donnie from trying. Even during the outside of your husband’s season, you would try whenever it was possible.

But then, when spring came around once more and Donnie could feel his season creep up once again, your parents happily took Gali with them to their vacation home out of state. On their way out, you and Donnie pretended not to hear their comment about how they were hoping that this would bring them more grandchildren. How lucky you were that Gali didn’t seem to catch on. That was not a conversation you were ready for yet.

—

After a whole week of non-stop sex, you were more than sore. Your whole body ached as you moved around in the bed, still not willing to get up. Donnie chuckled at the sight, pulling you closer with a pleased smile.

“You okay there?”, he asked, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“No”, you muffled, hiding your face against his plastron. “Everything hurts, and-”. You cut yourself off with the sudden nausea that fell over you. Even though your body hurt, you wasted no time running towards the toilet. Donnie was right on your heels, holding your hair back as you started to throw up into the toilet bowl. Though your discomfort was obvious, Donnie could hold back his smile when the scent of your hormones reached him. You were finally pregnant.

—

“It looks dark”, 5 year old Gali said, watching the monitor in front of him. You and Donnie chuckled at him. How adorable could a child be?

“I haven’t even started yet”, Donnie said as he turned on the ultrasound, the monitor coming to life.

“Then huuuuuurryyyyy!”, Gali whined, jumping impatiently in front of the monitor. He wanted to get a view of his new younger sibling as fast as possible.

Donnie placed the ultrasound on your stomach before moving it around over your almost second trimester baby bump. A picture formed on the monitor, and Gali smiled excitedly.

“You see that?”, Donnie asked, and pointed out a slight circle on the screen. “That’s their head, and here… is… another head…?”

“What did you just say?”, you asked somewhat alarmed.

Donnie moved the ultrasound a little further to get a better look, his confusion turning to shock and happiness, his eyes looking to you with joy written all over them.

“Twins”, he mumbled, tears of joy forming at the corners of his eyes. “We’re having twins”.

Michelangelo:

“So!”, Mikey said, turning to you with a mischievous smile, closing the bedroom door behind him, making his way closer to you. “Your parents have just left with Sunny, and the others are either hiding in their rooms. You know what that means”.

“Cuddles and a good movie?”, you asked innocently, knowing very well that wasn’t what Mikey talked about. His blown out pupils and his flaring nostrils made it very clear that he was fighting not to jump on you, his instinct taking a stronger and stronger hold on him. It wasn’t long before he couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Wrong!”, Mikey exclaimed with a smile, wrapping his arms around you as he pulled you closely against him, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. “It is baby making time!”

You chuckled against Mikey’s lips, soon finding that your chuckles turned to pleased hums as he backed you over towards the bed. The same bed you would be stuck in for the rest of the week.

For a long time now, Mikey had been wanting another child. While his brothers seemed to have calmed down a little after the birth of their children, their mating season being absent for a few years afterwards, Mikey’s did not. You went straight from one pregnancy to yet another mating season, where you and Mikey did your best to become pregnant once again. But nothing had happened for the past two years, so you were now hoping that the third time would be the lucky time. So when Mikey pushed you down onto the bed, you welcomed him with open arms, giggling as he crawled in between your legs.

—

A little over a week later, you, Mikey and Sunny found yourselves resting in the living area. You and Mikey were seated on the couch with Sunny between you, the 3 year old keeping herself entertained by walking back and forth between you, her legs wobbling on the soft couch cushions, laughing loudly whenever she would tumble into one of you. You and Mikey couldn’t help but laugh along with her, happy to see your daughter smile as bright as she did everyday, warmth filling both of your hearts.

Sunny then tumbled on the soft couch, her head butting straight into your hip, making you worry that she had gotten hurt. But Sunny did not cry. Instead she stared at your hip area in confusion, giving no thought to you and Mikey’s soft hands on her head or your careful words, asking if she was okay.

“Why do you smell like that, mommy?”, she asked, her small face contorted in a small frown.

“What do you mean?”, you asked, looking to Mikey for an explanation. Could he smell anything?

Mikey gave the air a sniff, trying to figure out what his daughter was talking about. He then jumped from the couch, his eyes wide with happiness and a joyful skip to his steps, making Sunny laugh once more.

“Babe!”, he exclaimed. “You’re pregnant!”

“What?!”, you asked in disbelief, but before Mikey could answer you, he pulled you and Sunny from the couch, holding you both close as he spun you around in circles, Sunny continued laughter, ringing out in the lair, catching the attention of the rest of its inhabitants.

“You’re pregnant!”, he yelled out, placing a quick kiss on your cheek. “We’re gonna have another child! Did you hear that, Sunny? You’re going to be a big sister!”

[mickyschumacher]

[STYLE! PT.1]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: carlos sainz and you have an on and off relationship: full of an alluring pain. and no matter what, it seems you two always come back to one another. 𝐏𝐓. 𝟐 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors DNI), infidelity, toxic relationship, reader has a vagina, unprotected sex (wrap it up like a gift!), reader slaps carlos, crying, ANGST, carlos bordering on being a sadist, cumming inside, fingering in the car, that being said - dangerous car driving, oral sex, incorrect model stuff probs, severely poorly utilised spanish, probs poorly written smut lol, probably missing plot holes but yeh

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: carlos sainz x model!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4k+

𝐀/𝐍: this is poorly based off taylor swift' 'style'. i hadn't realised i turned such a nice song into something well um... not nice? proof-read but as always, don't hold it against me!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Before you even started your cat-and-mouse game with Carlos, you were well aware that he was trouble the moment he walked into the room.

Scratch that.

Formula One drivers were nuisances. Ask any other model on the street and they would probably agree with you.

You knew that it was a relationship you probably shouldn't even be in. He was always going to be away in a new country every other week while you were doing photoshoots and walking runways. You would barely have time with each other. You don't think that you could even label such a relationship 'long distance'.

So when your management sent you down to the infamous Monaco Grand Prix as eye-candy, how were you to deny those brown eyes constantly lingering on you, following your body as he sported a smug smile? No one would be in their right mind to not fall for a guy like Carlos.

The heated gazes, the flirty comments, the burning brushes of touch... it was clear for the both of you that you had to be together.

But of course, despite knowing all of this, you couldn't help still feel a bit emotional about your relationship.

midnight

you come and pick me up, no headlights

long drive

could end in burning flames or paradise

fade into view, oh

it's been a while since i have even heard from you

Here you were. In Miami. The sun had fully set and the rare few stars you could find had taken up their night shift.

You were just leaving the office of your management after having a discussion on what photoshoots you were doing in the upcoming weeks and what events you were attending.

Chanel, Dior, Ralph Lauren, YSL, Louis Vuitton...

Brands on any other general day you would've love to talk about. But your mind was in a state of disarray after receiving a message from a certain Spaniard.

hot spanish polla (prick)

pick you up in 15, princesa (princess)

behind your office.

Even now, looking at the message again, you let out a scoff. You scrolled up, finding the last message you had sent to him. In January.

It was currently May.

Your fingers clenched around your phone as you let out a shaky sigh. Despite all the rage you felt, of course you were here, in the secluded area of your company.

You looked down at your clothes. A model life meant wearing 'fashionable' clothes. You, your manager, and your stylist often pre-agreed on the outfits you wore just for the sake of your image. Today, your stylist had dressed you in a black mini skirt and maroon sweater. You neck and ears all adorned in thin gold jewellery while you feet were hugged by a classic pair of white sneakers.

You pursed your lips. At least you looked good.

But of course this was just like Carlos. Speaking, calling, texting... all when he wanted. You knew he was in Miami. You weren't an idiot. You had all of this season's races organised into your calendar.

You were just in disbelief that Carlos had the audacity to even text you after not hearing even a word from him in almost five months.

Your ears perked up to a low rumble of a car entering the area. The headlights were off but you could still spot it's familiar features. You eyed the iconic Prancing Horse and rolled your eyes. The love and hate you had for Ferrari was unexplainable.

The car stopped in front of you and the door of the driver's seat opened. Carlos came out as if he were in slow motion.

You sucked your tongue to your lips upon eyeing his appearance. He was in a black coat, a simple white shirt that stuck to his sculpted body paired with black trousers that brought out his stupidly defined thighs. Those thighs... god, how much time had you spent on them?

and i should tell you to leave 'cause i

know exactly where it leads, but i

watch us go 'round and 'round each time

Carlos waved a hand through his hair and smiled at you. You could feel his eyes waver over you, making you suppress the innate shudder his gaze would usually send you. You couldn't let him think that everything was okay.

He opened the door to the passenger side and gestured for you to come in with an extended hand.

You folded your arms and stared at him. Were you really going to do this? Yes. Was this what you deserved after so long? A man who felt dizzy for you but wouldn't speak to you for four months? Yes and no.... yes.

Carlos narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to look at you. He knew exactly what you were thinking. "Get in the car, Y/N. Before I make you."

There was nothing threatening about his tone. In fact, even if it was, it would be an empty threat. Because at the end of the day, the both of you knew you were going to.

You internally sighed, before walking up to the open door. You turned your head to him and gave an amused huff. "As if you would, Sainz."

Carlos flashed his classic grin, the very one that had gotten you into this mess in the first place, and watched you enter his car.

By the time you had but on your seatbelt and rested your arm on the door, Carlos had finally sat next you.

"You look good, cariño (darling)," Carlos murmured, bringing your hand up to his mouth to leave a small kiss.

You clenched your jaw at the fiery tingle that sprawled across your hand. You snatched your hand away. "I know. I look good all the time," You mentioned curtly.

Were you being a bitch? A bit catty? Simply put, yes. But you thought a man who usually got what he wanted deserved some sort of catty behaviour.

"Four months, Carlos, four goddamn months... of nothing," You sighed out.

A remorseful expression fell over Carlos' face. "I know. I'm so sorry, cariño. I don't have any excuses."

You huffed once again with an irked smile, folding your arms while you looked out your window. You could think of one. But maybe it wasn't time to bring it up right now. You were tired of this game already. You would rather a false peace than the raw reality.

Your eyes peered over to him. "Long drive home?" You asked.

Carlos smiled softly at you. "As per usual."

You nodded slowly and Carlos turned the key of the car. The engine came alive and seemingly so did he as his hand naturally fell to your thigh while he reversed out.

you got that james dean daydream look in your eye

and i got that red lip classic thing that you like

and when we go crashing down, we come back every time

'cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style

you got that long hair slicked back, white t-shirt

and i got that food girl faith and a tight little skirt

and when we go crashing down, we come back every time

'cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style

Carlos could feel your eyes on him as he drove down the empty, long roads of Miami, dotted with the sparsely spaced palm trees swaying in the warm summer breeze.

Your eyes trailed over every inch of him. His hair. His eyes. His lips. His neck. His body. Every crevice. As if you were trying to print an image in your mind.

You always looked at him like that. Carlos remembered asking you about it. "What are you looking at?" He would ask.

"Just you," You would retort, "I just can't believe someone like you exists."

Carlos would chuckle and question what you meant by that. You simply said he reminded you of James Dean. Even now. His hair was slightly grown and slicked back with the heat of Miami. His entire aura was smug and intoxicating. The entire world could see Carlos Sainz as the Spanish romantic driver, but you knew that behind that warming exterior, was something dirty... troublesome in the best way, in fact.

You, god, you were the complete opposite. Y/N L/N. The good girl model. Pure. Untainted. The type of model you would see in spreads of brands right after they had a controversy because your angel aura would put anyone back in the good books. No matter how revealing your clothes were or how much skin you had on display, you were somehow still the epitome of unadulterated goodness.

There was a saying that people often associated with good girls like you. Every good girl wants a bad boy to be good just for her.

You wished that wasn't true. How desperately had you avoided all those flashy teenage popstars and actors. But here you were inevitably falling for an intoxicating Carlos Sainz. Time and time again.

so it goes

he can't keep his wild eyes on the road

You let out a shaky sigh as Carlos' hand travelled closer and closer up your inner thigh. "Carlos," You warned, eyes widening slightly as those brown eyes were planted firmly on you, taking in every little movement of yours, instead of looking at the road.

"Yes, my ñina bonita (beautiful girl)," He answered almost questioningly in a teasing tone.

"Keep your eyes on the road," You weakly mumbled.

You both watched his fingers linger up your skirt. His fingers danced across your burning skin and paused at the thin material covering your core. You sucked in a sharp breath once those fingers met your panties.

Carlos grinned at your shaking eyes and the warm dampness on his fingers. "You make it hard to look away," He confessed earnestly.

You could feel his fingers rub your pussy ever so slowly, only just grazing over that sensitive nub of yours.

"Jesus fucking christ, Carlos," You hissed out, hips bucking at his touch.

Carlos could feel his pants become incredibly tight all of a sudden. The control he had over you was so enthralling that he wanted to simply stop in the middle of the highway, grab you by yours hips and fuck the living life out of you.

What a sight that would be. You straddling his lap, soaking his trousers as your ass rested against the Ferrari symbol embedded into the steering wheel. He would make sure that the brand he represented would be covered in your cum after he was done with you.

Carlos sucked in a sharp breath. "Jesus fucking christ, indeed, cariño," He managed to get out, blinking hard at the road in front of him.

He watched out of his peripheral vision as your head fell back against while his thick fingers pushed past your panties and slid against your drenched folds.

His fingers ventured and craved a journey, feeling each crevice of your pussy. Carlos thrusted his fingers into your warm walls, briefly watching you envelope him entirely.

"Fuck, Carlos," You moaned out, hand instinctively reaching out to covers his. You couldn't tell if you wanted him to stop in this horny haze or push him in even further.

It must have been the latter as you could feel his fingers delve further into you. Carlos let out a strangled moan, foot pressing further on the accelerator. He needed to get you home as fast he could.

takes me home

the lights are off, he's taking off his coat

i say "i heard, oh, that you've been out and about with some other girl"

he says, "what you heard is true

but i can't stop thinking 'bout you and i"

i said, "i've been there too a few times."

By the time you had reached home and got to your bedroom, the entire of your house remained living in the darkness you had found it in.

Carlos and you didn't need lights. If there was anything he was purely confident about, other than his driving of course, it was your body. He knew it like he knew those race tracks. Every curve. The distance from your breasts to your pussy. How long it would take you to cum. He knew it all.

Carlos shrugged off his coat somewhere onto your floor, needing a release from the heat surging through his body. Your shoes and socks he had pulled off in a haste as well.

His lips had found yours as his hands roamed your back, pulling him closer to you. His fingers snuck past the hem of your shirt, brushing your bare skin while reaching up your torso to find a neat surprise.

"No bra," Carlos' hoarse voiced queried with the sound of a smirk playing at his lips. At least thats what you could assume in the dark.

Carlos inched you towards your bed as if it was a second nature to him.

The soft silk sheets he had bought you last year consumed the both of you as his fingers brushed past your nipple.

You released yourself from this kiss at the action, gasping for the air that Carlos had taken from you.

"I heard you were with some other girl. Is this what you did with her?" You finally asked, feeling a small smirk grow onto your face despite the annoyance running through your body.

You could feel Carlos stop moving, probably boring those beautiful brown eyes of his into you.

He knew what you were talking about. February. Pre-testing season. The drivers, some staff and their partners had gotten together to celebrate the upcoming season.

Lando, like the photo lover he was, had decided to document the night with his camera and post it to his Instagram dedicated to photos, lando.jpg.

You had clicked on it a few hours later, deciding to see how much fun they were having while you were doing a photoshoot with Kim Jones. Pictures of Charles dancing terribly with Max had made you laugh. Carmen looking concerned for George's wellbeing as he took shots had made you laugh even harder. There was also a photo of Alex and Lily being the cute paddock couple they were while Carlos was drunkly looking into the camera

But then your fingers stopped on particular photo of Carlos.

He looked good, you could not deny him that. Flushed skin, hazed eyes, the perfect smile... all while dressed as the Madrid's richest.

But lo and behold, that wasn't the only thing getting your attention. Instead, it was the girl in his arms. The same girl who in the next few photos had her lips on him and his hands on her ass. You could even spot a fresh hickey that wasn't on her neck in the previous photo.

God, the comments and tweets were coming in at lightning speed.

user55: who's the girl? i thought carlos was with y/n?

user04: maybe they broke up?

user16: wasn't just with her for new years? jfc, that man needs to get a grip

mickyschumacher: y/n deserves better than this

user44: i wonder if she knows?

Quite soon after, Lando had taken down the post, apologising to you profusely. You reassured him it was okay, even though deep down you were exhausted of this.

Not only had Carlos been going around with another girl, but he didn't even have the decency to say sorry. He would rather say nothing.

Carlos didn't know what was worse. His growing guilt or the fact that your reaction was making him harder.

His fingers skimmed across your swollen lips. "Obviously what you saw was true. But the thing is... I can't stop thinking about you and I, princesa. You consume me for every second of the day. Even if I don't show it. Fuck, I have a ritual before every race, you know? To cum to your name... to your body."

Was is it a poor excuse? Yes. It didn't even explain why he had done it in the first place. But the most damning thing was, you didn't care. Or you could care less to begin with.

Instead you were turned on. The pool in your panties had gotten even bigger as you released a light moan at his words. Your hands travelled to his waist, peeling off his white shirt while he raised his arms. The combination of your body heat was so high that it could almost be considered unsafe for the average human.

"You're a lucky man, Sainz. I can't stop thinking about you too."

Carlos could only let out a moan at your words, removing your sweater before bringing his lips to your nipples, dividing his attention to them equally. His hands were busy unbuckling his belt and taking off his trousers.

Your hand reached into his long hair, gripping the locks tightly as he moaned against your breasts. You could hear the clink and thud of his belt and pants hitting the floor as he pushed up your skirt, unbothered to take it off.

In face, these mini skirts were going to be the death of Carlos. He loved them on you. It wasn't just the easy access to the heaven down there. But if he had to explain it, it was the way they rested on your thighs. Laying there simply, not doing anything but creating a monster in him.

Carlos pushed your panties to the side, plunging his fingers into you without any warning. He could feel you arch your back and push your head into the bed while you writhed under his touch.

"Fucking hell," You swore, clenching your thighs around his hands.

Carlos chuckled. "Such a dirty mouth, princesa," He stated before speeding up his pace.

Your loud moans echoed within your empty house. Your hips bucked into his hand, fucking yourself faster on him to chase the release he had built up in the pit of your stomach.

"You wanna cum, Y/N? Hmm? Tell me?"

The sweat was building up on your skin as Carlos had added his thumb over your clit. He rubbed his thumb briefly in slow circles but he had given up on the teasing. He wanted you to squirm in his hands because that's how much pleasure you were receiving. He flicked the nub in fast motions, dropping his warm spit into your hot folds.

"Holy–Carlos!"

Carlos smirked at the ironic combination of words following out of your mouth. Yes, he was holy. But if he was that divine, you were no angel. You were a sin. A goddess. A she-devil.

"I would love to watch you cum, princesa. I really would. But my cock is begging for you, hmm? I think your pussy deserves some attention that isn't my fingers, no?"

Carlos had stopped moving his hand and removed his fingers from you. He could feel you shake in his hold. From anger or pleasure, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that he had left you begging for more.

Although it must've been anger.

Because almost immediately, he had heard it before he felt it. The sharp whack of the air. The burn on his cheek almost sizzling.

You could feel his hot gaze pierce through you as your chest heaved up and down in frustration. "You're a little shit, Carlos," You groaned. "Sorry, no. What was it in Spanish? Polla? Yes, fucking polla."

The room had turned eerie in seconds. Carlos' silence had started to worry you. You could still feel his gaze and hear his laboured breathing but he was saying nothing.

Suddenly you felt his hands wrap around your waist and move to his lap. You let out a gasp at the bare cock you had been placed upon and the sloppy lips resting near your ear.

"I think I need to fuck the nice back into you, princesa, no? Maybe if you become my little divine goddess, I'll let you cum, hmm? What do you think?" Carlos' whisper was hot and heavy in your ear. "Use your words, mi amor (my love)".

Goddamn it. He had broken out the 'mi amor'. The only thing that had you hanging by a thread. The sliver of hope that whatever you and Carlos had going on was more than this. That you truly loved one another.

"Yes, Carlos," You said, bringing a gentle peck to his lips.

You could feel him smile against your lips. "There's my good girl.''

Carlos pushed your panties aside, assured that you were stretched out and wet enough by his fingers. He grabbed his cock and was overcome with a shudder when rubbing the tip of his cock through your folds.

"Spit, cariño," His voice commanded.

You gathered all the saliva that had easily accumulated after salivating for this man and let the warm fluid fall from your lips.

Carlos couldn't see but he could just imagine if the lights were on. The bubbled liquid falling from those pretty lips of yours, turning into thin strings as they had perfectly landed on the slit of his cock.

He didn't even have to say anything as your nimble fingers rubbed your saliva over his shaft. You could hear his heavy breaths in the air and a small sigh of pleasure came from his lips. "Baby, let's get me in you, hmm?"

You let out a small whimper at his words before releasing a strangled moan as you pushed his cock into your pussy. You could feel each swollen and puffed out fold take him in and your warm walls wrapping around him tightly.

Carlos shut his eyes tightly. "Mierda (shit). You feel so good, princesa," He groaned, lifting his hips up.

You moaned in agreement, throwing your hands around his neck as he thrusted in and out of you.

The concept that cock could made a person dumb often sounded strange. But with Carlos, it was true. You couldn't do anything or say anything but moan in pleasure.

"Lamp. I need to see your face, princesa," Carlos muttered out in awkward pauses, rutting his hips against you in an angle that almost made it impossible for you stretch your arm out and turn on the lamp.

A yellow illuminated the room and finally, you could see each other.

You had made eye contact with Carlos. His eyes bore into you while his mouth was agape as if he was constantly ready to moan. His normally slicked hair was now tousled courtesy of your fingers.

Jesus, was he a sight to behold.

But Carlos didn't think any less of you. God, how were you even real? Your skin was flushed, hair sticking out in every direction, sweat and traces of your wetness across your body and your eyes: dazed with lust and bordering on the edge of being fucked out.

But most especially, those goddamn lips of yours. They were painted with red when Carlos had first picked you up. The red had faded, only trace amounts left mixed with the red flush of the swelling he had brought by kissing you. What a vision you were.

Your eyes flickered to the specifically red cheek that faced you. God, this man knew how to make you feel for anything. His hips jerked into you, pushing his cock deeper as every second passed. The spell he had on you was serious; dangerous.

You could feel a glaze of water fall over your eyes as your fingers brushed his reddened cheek. His skin was still warm from your slap. Carlos shivered at your touch, eyes fluttering shut.

"I'm sorry, Carlos," You murmured out so quietly that if he wasn't listening so intently, he would've missed it. "I didn't mean to."

Carlos could feel his heart pace as you softly kissed the burning skin of his. It was as if you were kissing his pain away. A warm tear from your eyes had fallen onto his cheek, making his heart melt.

Carlos could feel himself tighten at the action, even more so when you clenched your walls tightly around him.

"You think you deserve to cum, mi princesa?" Carlos queried, wrapping his hand around your jaw and making you turn to face him. His eyes shook at your teary eyed gaze. The mascara and eyeliner you wore had broken down. If he hadn't felt so soft for you, he would've teased you and said you looked like a racoon.

Carlos could feel you start to shake as you buried your nails into his skin. To his surprise, you shook your head no. You begun to slow your pace and clench around him, only trying to get him off.

"Oh mi amor, mi ñina bonita, you deserve to cum. You deserve a lot more than you know," Carlos whispered, tucking your hair behind your ear. He planted a soft kiss to your forehead before bringing his thumb to your clit, rubbing hard and increasing the speed of his cock thrusting in and out of you.

You couldn't help but let out a sob mixed with both pleasure and sadness. A wave of euphoria convulsed within your body as Carlos staggered to a halt in you. His cock twitched and throbbed, spilling his hot cum into your walls.

You bought Carlos into a tight hug, pushing yourself further onto his cock, making him groan again and release a few more ropes of his cum into you.

Carlos brought his lips to your shoulders and left a small trail of kisses as the two of you calmed down.

The double meaning to his words had thrown you off.

You could tell what he meant.

This why he had reached out in the first place.

His guilty glances. The poor excuses.

This was the last time.

Whatever this was between you... it had to end.

You both needed to move on.

But especially you.

It was a gutting feeling to know. But Carlos was right. This sadness, this anger, this toxicity could go on no longer. Despite being heartsick, you were happy though.

Because even if this ended, you had gone out in style.

𝐏𝐓. 𝟐 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[wayward-dreamer]

Old Flame

Part 2 to New Blood

Square/s filled: "is that right?" @anyfandomkinkbingo (prompt in bold)|

Pairing: Soldier Boy x F!Supe!Reader

Word count: 5,229

Summary: Y/N never expected that a knock at her door late at night would result in a reunion with Soldier Boy, someone she long thought to be dead. The meeting gets off to a rocky start, but when certain truths come to light, some unexpected feelings come along with them.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, smut: dirty talk, unprotected sex (wrap it up people), I think that's it lol

A/N: I'm so excited to finally bring this to you guys! I just realised I posted the first part a year ago, so it's about time lol... beta'd my loves @hintsofhoney and @makeadealwithdean

Get the job done.

In all his tenure as Soldier Boy, that’s what he had learnt and kept faith in. He had tried to instill that in his team continuously for so long, but along the way he lost his grip on them, enough that they had taken action against him and given him up to the Russians.

The only credit he could give them was that he never saw it coming. Noir was always crafty that way, which was why he had no doubt Stan Edgar had put him up to it.

The last few days had been a complete whirlwind.

He had been released from a chamber in Russia, confronted by the modern world, burned Countess and the Twins to a crisp, all while running with two guys propositioning him to kill the “new” him, Homelander. Who he found out was his son, right before he caved Mindstorm’s face in with his shield. They were still on the search for Noir, but they were close. He had conflicting feelings about Homelander given the revelations, but if he was prepared to do what needs to be done.

He sipped his whiskey, reclined in the wrinkled leather armchair of The Legend’s office in his home upstate. He continued this nightly routine, contemplating the old days compared to this new world he had found himself in. He recalled the golden years, the nights of endless parties, alcohol, drugs, beautiful women, being in the pocket of so many of Hollywood’s elite and notable political figures. He remembered the Vought events, Herogasm in its prime and not the pathetic mess he had witnessed days ago. He thought back to those last few weeks before they left for Nicaragua, that shareholders party that ended up being his last. The night he met Y/N. Ember.

“Everyone knows Noir’s the only valuable player for Vought. The rest of you… you’re gonna end up C-listers, with crummy deals at amusement parks and running Herogasm into the fucking ground.”

He scoffed as he sipped the amber liquid. She had been right, of course. That was exactly what happened, and she had the foresight about Payback’s fate before any of them did. She may have tried to push his buttons, but he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to the result of it. The sex was pretty fucking great; no matter how much he hated her attitude, he had to admit that fact.

“And as for you…You know they’re all just humoring you, right? Countess, the twins. I mean fuck, even Edgar just gives you shit to do so he doesn’t actually have to deal with you. He’s probably got a replacement lined up for you already.”

Just as the memories of her body against his plagued him, her words echoed in his head once more. Words that had broken his last resolve, that had him pushing her against the wall, that had fuelled their rageful lust for each other. Slowly, he stood up from the chair, replaying them in his mind. Yet again, she had prophesied something that he wouldn’t know the truth about until now.

So how the fuck did she know? She may not have been part of the team back then, but she sure as fuck knew something. Did she have something to do with the plot to get rid of him, too? Did she and Noir make the plan together?

She had voiced her desire to join Payback, going as far as telling him she’d talk to Stan after they had fucked and broken several pieces of furniture in his penthouse apartment.

He needed to know where she was so he could pay her a little visit like he had with the rest of his team.

-x-

Y/N settled in for the evening, laid back against the couch with a glass of whiskey on the coffee table and a joint resting in the ashtray next to it. The light of the television flashed against her face as some shitty daytime show was almost finished, ready to give way to the 6pm news. She had briefly seen something about an explosion in Midtown Manhattan a few days ago, followed by another in Montpelier, Vermont, but she didn’t pay much attention to it.

Sliding down against the cushions as the headlines started, she reached for the joint and brought it to her lips, clicking her fingers and lighting the end of it from the small flame. She inhaled, blowing out a large puff of smoke as she drew her knees up. With one hand, she reached for her foot and rubbed her thumb along her toes, firmly. She grimaced at the dull ache that had developed over the years, before stretching her leg out and hearing her bones click loudly. One of the many things Vought took from her; her physicality. She may not have aged a day thanks to the Compound V, but that didn’t mean the years of service to that fucked up place hadn’t taken a toll on her.

Taking another pull from the joint, Y/N glanced at the TV as a new headline came up. Her eyes narrowed in confusion as old images of Soldier Boy flashed across the screen, with the words SOLDIER BOY ALIVE? appeared over them. She jolted up from the couch, reaching for the remote and pressing hard on the volume button, making it louder than it had been. An instagram video with the supe she recognized as Starlight came after the pictures, her words ringing in Y/N’s ears.

“It’s been five days, and still nothing but lies from Vought. Soldier Boy is still out there, and Maeve is still missing, and you know what? More people are just going to die before they admit to what’s going on.”

Her eyes widened as the report continued, piecing the last few days and events together.

“As you heard Starlight there, it’s been five days since the events in Montpelier, Vermont where seven supes were killed, and several more injured. This comes a few days after the explosion in Midtown, with the prime suspect being Soldier Boy, Vought’s most respected supe. Long thought dead for the last 3 decades, which now leads us to believe: what has else Vought been hiding? Stay tuned-”

Y/N shut the TV off, the house eerily silent. She breathed heavily as she tried to understand what was happening. Was he really alive? After all this time? Had he really killed all those people? In an explosion no less. She knew his violent nature but was he really capable of something like this? Midtown was close to The Legend’s penthouse. Had Ben gone after him too?

While the reality of lives lost made her blood boil, the only thing that made her happy was the thought that Vought was probably running around with their heads cut off trying to fix this mess. She’d love to be in that building again and witness it, but she had never been so glad to be out of that life.

She knew that if there were casualties in Vermont, then it was definitely at Herogasm. The TNT twins were no doubt a part of those numbers, which meant Ben was going after all of the team. She had lost contact with Countess decades ago, which was she relieved about considering everything she and the rest of the team had put her through. Y/N had left Payback almost thirty years ago; crime fighting nearly twenty years ago, and she had never looked back. She had refused appearances at Godolkin and any Vought events over the years, and when they finally stopped reaching out she felt free of their hold on her.

There was no word on Countess, the twins were most likely dead; The Legend too, probably. That meant Noir and Mindstorm were next, and then Ben would no doubt be coming for her. If he was alive, then he had clearly learnt of her appointment to Payback, something they had argued over that fateful night, even if it did result in really great sex.

She stood up from the couch and rushed into her bedroom, knowing there was only one thing she could do at that moment. She needed to leave before he found her.

She pulled out her small suitcase, dumped it on the bed and began filling it with whatever she needed for a few days at least. That news report had put the fear of every God into her and she knew that she needed to pack quickly. She had never met Starlight, but after hearing who was responsible… she knew something was up even if she didn’t want to believe it. He couldn’t be alive. Not after all this time.

She couldn’t take any chances of him finding her and killing her too. Especially after that night, in his penthouse at the old Vought American building, when she said all those horrible things to him. Things that she had regretted the moment she found out he was gone in that nuclear blast. Was that how he was alive now and had managed to wipe out nearly everyone at Herogasm?

She pondered everything in her mind, shaking her head as the thoughts continued in a reel, continuing to put her things together as she moved on auto-pilot. She zipped up the bag, grabbed her passport from one of the drawers in her dresser and shoved it into her handbag. The Legend lived close by, and she just hoped and prayed that he wasn’t dead already. She needed his help to make her disappear for a while, because he was the only one she still trusted. She pushed the clothes in her closet to either side of the rack, reaching forward to the safe in the wall. Turning the dial a few times, it clicked open from the right combination and allowed her to take out a few bundles of cash that she had.

Just as she decided to change into jeans and t-shirt from her nightie and robe, a sudden knock on the door broke through the silence, stunting her in place. She felt a shiver run down her back as the ominous quiet stretched on. Slowly, she wrapped her robe around her body and tied it, walking out of her room. She stared at the front door, wondering if she just imagined it. Another knock sounded on the solid wood, and she flinched, gasping softly. Shaking her head, she rolled her shoulders as she straightened up, psyching herself up as she took leisured steps towards the entrance. She lightly wiggled her fingers to make small embers light up the tips, just as she reached for the doorknob. She twisted it slowly, opening the door wide to see no one there on her porch.

“What the fuck?” she whispered, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Just as her hand reached for the porch light switch next to the frame, her eyes widened at the familiar face they stepped in front of her, paralyzing her in her place. It was the face of a ghost, or at least, he should’ve been. She staggered back as heavy footfalls moved slowly towards her, his green eyes staring into hers as his face remained stoic, the door hinges creaking as he shut the door behind him.

“Ben,” she gulped, squaring her shoulders as she stood her ground. She wasn’t going to let him intimidate her. “H-How are you alive?”

His blank facial expression gave way to a slow, sinister smirk. “Well you and the team handing me to the fucking Reds didn’t work out the way you planned.”

She frowned, shaking her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

In one swift motion, Soldier Boy’s hand wrapped around her neck, turning her around and slamming her against the wall. She gasped as his fingers curled over her throat, her body trapped by his shield pressed against her. She tried to push it away with her free hands, but his strength was too much for her.

“Don’t lie to me,” he snarled, glaring down at her. “I could snap this little neck like a fucking toothpick and you know it, sugar.”

“I-I’m not,” she choked, slapping at his arm.

“You seemed pretty confident about what was gonna happen to all of them,” he recalled, squeezing harder on her neck. “Countess, the twins. So you’re gonna tell me the fucking truth.”

“Or what? You’re really gonna kill me like you did the others?” she gulped around her words.

“Depends on your fucking answer,” he replied.

Her lungs burned as took a harsh breath once he released his hold on her. Her chest heaved as she looked up at him, still trapped between the wall and his shield. Her eyes darkened with rage, her jaw clenching as her nostrils flared the longer they remained in defiant silence. With the little strength she could muster, she raised her arms and pushed against his chest, pushing him back a few paces. His shield slipped out of his grip as he braced himself, his upper lip twitching as he glared at her. Her hands glowed with tiny embers that grew as she stepped towards him.

“Anything I say isn’t gonna matter to you,” she stated, wiggling her fingers around and causing small flames to ignite her palms.

“It all fucking happened, Y/N,” he husked, his stance changing into fight mode as glanced between her face and her hands. “Exactly the way you said. I mean, fuck, they probably replaced me with fucking Homelander - my son - because you told them to!”

“S-Son?” she stuttered, her eyes widening.

He chuckled, smugly. “Come on, doll. It’s hard to believe you had nothing to do with any of this. So what was it, huh? Getting rid of me as some kind of initiation from Noir and the rest of them? You were the final fucking puzzle piece in his plan?”

Y/N shook her head as her fingers tightened into fists, and before she realized her actions, she lifted the right and punched him across the face. The flesh of cheek singed by the embers healed quickly as he looked back at her, grabbing her by her arms and flinging her aside. Her back hit the wall hard, photo frames from the mantel above the fireplace falling off and shattering on the floor. She rolled her shoulders as pushed off the wall, some of the drywall stuck to the back of her silky robe. She tried to strike him again, but as he ducked away, he gripped her waist and turned her around, caging her in by his strong arms. She elbowed him but he didn’t budge; a complete wall of immovable muscle against her. She reached back, her fingers scraping against his cheek, a painful grunt escaping him as she burned his skin long enough for him to let go of her.

“Bitch,” he growled.

Soldier Boy wiped his fingers along his face, the flesh reforming before any blood was drawn. He moved towards her, but she bent down and quickly pulled the blade from his holster, coming back up as she flicked the blade around, slicing his palm through his glove. Once again he was unaffected as gripped her wrist, forcing her backwards and slamming her into the wall. She shrieked as her head hit the hard surface, the sound growing more desperate as she tried to free her hand from his hold. The deja vu of the whole situation wasn’t lost on either of them, as they found themselves in a similar position as that night, but she wasn’t going to let that distract her. As his other hand moved over her throat again, he hit her fist against the wall in an effort to get her to drop the knife. Just as the grip fell from her fingertips and before he could get the upper hand once more, she grabbed him by his kevlar vest, kneeing him in the stomach as hard as she could with her waning strength. A grunt, more of surprise than pain left him as he let go of her, slightly hunched as he collected himself.

“I got the gig 6 weeks after you were gone,” she blurted out. Before this escalated more than it already had, she was going to tell him what really happened.

He glared at her, straightening up slowly. “What?”

“Whenever you were taken… I only got into the team once Vought handled that whole situation,” she added, trying to catch her breath as she moved towards him, slowly. “Which they did a fucking piss poor job of considering I never believed for a second you were dead in a nuclear explosion.”

With a heavy exhale he watched her carefully, looking for any tells that she was lying. She knew exactly what he was trying to do, from the way his shoulders tensed and his eyes narrowed. She shook her head, scoffing as mentally told herself to “fuck it” because if she had to die defending herself, then so be it. At least she’d go out with some integrity.

“I had nothing to do with the plot to hand you over, okay? I didn’t know about Noir’s plan!” she exclaimed, stepping closer to him. “Though, if you ask me, those orders probably came from Stan ‘cause he’s the only one smart and sneaky enough to think of it. So no, it wasn’t an initiation. Trust me, that process was far worse.”

A bitter chuckle fell from her lips as she met his eyes again. His eyebrows furrowed, taking her in properly for the first time since he stepped into her house. Apart from the lines around her eyes she looked exactly the same, but something behind her eyes told him she wasn’t the pistol of a woman he had a fiery twenty minutes with all those years ago. He wasn’t about to ask her, because fuck feelings and all that gooey shit, but considering his own experiences in that Russian lab he realized he wasn’t the only tortured one in the room.

Y/N couldn’t decipher his silence. The longer he didn’t say a word, the angrier she got and that was dangerous in that precarious moment. She couldn’t stop herself, however, so before she realized what she was doing, she pushed him. It didn’t matter to her that he was a brick wall, her rage was consuming her and it needed to be unleashed in any way she could find. She hated to be called a liar, and there was no way he was going to get away with it. 

“No matter how much anyone asked for the truth about you it was always the same fucking answer!” she yelled, shoving him again. “The same lies they sold to the public were the same ones they gave us!”

Another push.

“Y/N-”

He stepped back, trying to move out of her way as he reached for her hands, but she was quick as they pressed into his chest again and forced him back, harder this time. 

“So, no! I had no fucking idea that you got taken by the Russians! No fucking idea the team did that to you! I joined Payback to look after my family, not to get rid of you!”

She jostled him again, her palms suddenly engulfed with large embers as she reached up and slapped him across the face. A pained groan escaped him this time, but as he tried to recover she used her other hand across the other side of his face. The skin singed before it healed quickly, but she kept coming at him, kept slapping and shoving, her teeth gritting as she screamed at him. He grunted as he reached for her, his fists closing tight around her wrists as she tried to pull out his grip, scowling at him as her fingers blazed.

“Y/N, stop!” he roared, his gaze far more menacing than hers.

But she didn’t back down. It was too late now.

“I asked about you, you son of a bitch! I tried to find out where you were! You wanted the truth? There it is!”

Her continuous attempt to free herself from his grasp failed, groaning in frustration as she tried to move away, but there was no use.

“Let me go,” she hissed, glaring up at him.

His hands tightened around her wrists causing her to gasp in pain.

“L-Let me fucking go and get the fuck out of my house!”

Soldier Boy remained stoic as she struggled, his heated gaze on her causing her stop. Their eyes locked on each other, and for the first time since he stepped through the door Y/N saw something else behind the intensity of his green orbs. What it was, she wasn’t sure and he probably had no idea what he was feeling either, but before she could understand what was happening, he dropped her wrists and roughly cupped her face as his lips fused with hers. A surprised moan escaped her as he grabbed her so quickly, but her hands instantly moved into his hair, pushing herself up on her tip-toes to get closer to him.

There was nothing gentle about the embrace. Their lips moved harshly against each other’s as her frenzied grasp tugged at his vest. She pulled away, gasping for air as she made quick work of opening the buckles and pushing the kevlar up, allowing him to pull it over his head and throw it aside. He pulled her close as they met in another frantic kiss, stumbling towards the living area as they dodged furniture. He reached for the tie on her silk robe, pulling it free and practically tearing off her before she tossed it somewhere in the room, stripping her of the short silk nightie she had been wearing just as fast. The back of her calf hit the corner of the coffee table, causing her to lose balance as she hit the floor, pulling him down on top of her. Luckily the thick rug softened the fall, but neither of them noticed as he stared down at her, completely naked in front of his still-clothed frame. Her frenetic grasp on his suit as she yanked at the gathered collar and pulled the zip down caused an amused expression to grace his features.

“Someone’s fucking eager,” he chuckled.

She scoffed, hastily sitting up and pushing the sleeves down his biceps before reaching for his pants. “Please, your dick just happens to be the only one in the vicinity.”

“Is that right?” he asked, briefly halting her urgency as he held her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “‘Cause if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you got a thing for me, doll.”

“You kissed me first,” she retorted, one eyebrow cocked as she looked up at him, her fingers deftly unzipping his pants. “What’s that say about you?”

“That I’m the one in charge,” he husked, taking her hands in his and pinning her down on the rug once more.

“Then shut up and fuck me,” she smirked.

He grinned as his face hovered above hers, breath mingling as their lips were inches apart. Without wasting any more time, he tugged the waistband of his pants down and took hold of his cock, hard and pulsing in his hand. He lined himself up to her entrance, and in one swift tilt of his hips, he was sheathed by her walls. Her mouth fell open at the familiar stretch, her eyes squeezing shut as she moaned loudly. She grabbed onto his broad, muscular shoulders, pulling him as close as their bodies could press together. He set a brutal pace to his thrusts, his pelvis smacking against her as she wrapped her legs around him, the heels of her feet resting under the curve of his ass. The threads of the carpet under her scraped her back, but she couldn’t have cared less at that point. Everything about that moment felt the same as all those years ago, and yet, completely different.

His touch was as harsh as before and so was the way he pounded into her. Something lingered under the surface, however, something that was unfamiliar to her and that she had never experienced with any of the men she had slept with. Just as she had with the others, she pushed it aside and tugged the hair at the back of his head, their lips fused together in a rough kiss.

“Fuck,” he husked, his mouth brushing against hers. “So fucking tight for me…”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up and fuck me?” she taunted.

He glared down at her, taking in the rapid rise and fall of her chest. “What? This isn’t enough for you?”

“Looks like you’re fucking out of practice, old man,” she snickered.

The scornful laugh died quickly as he took her words as a challenge, slamming into her even harder. The shrieking moan that ripped from her throat had her regretting her words, her eyes closing as stars appeared behind them. Her grip on his shoulders tightened, the pads of her fingers digging into his skin as her nails left crescent marks behind.

It was his turn to mock her, chuckling as he stared down at her. “That’s what I fucking thought… only way to put bratty sluts like you in their place.”

She cried out, half in rage at what he called her and the other half ashamed that it had an effect on her, her walls clenching around him as she felt the familiar heat in her core. She hadn’t felt like this in a long time, well… since the last time she was with him. She tried not to think about how pathetic that was.

“Shit,” she hissed, pressing her lips together.

“Suddenly speechless,” he smirked.

“Fuck you.”

A boisterous laugh left him as he continued to move within her, his hips unrelenting. Her fingers squeezed down harder on his skin, the embers that appeared under them beginning to burn his flesh. He broke eye contact with her as his head dropped down, his shoulders heaving under her painful touch. He closed his eyes, squeezing them as his hips began to falter, causing her to frown. It was unexpected, and she had no idea what was happening to him, especially as a pool of light glowed on his chest.

“Ben…” she whispered, her hands instantly cupping his face and forcing him to look at her.

Just as the light scorches dissipated on his skin as it healed, so did the strange light that looked as if it would erupt from his chest. She gazed up at him, watching as his eyes finally focused on hers.

“What the fuck was-”

He cut the question off as he kissed her hard, his thrusts picking up pace once more. She moaned into his mouth, the confusion as to what had just happened disappearing as he pushed her towards her release. Her walls tightened around him, the intense sensation in her core too much of her to take.

“Fucking cum, Y/N,” he breathed against her lips, his gaze locked on hers. “Be a good girl and cum for me…”

A loud whimper left her as she threw her head back, her hands moving up the back of his neck and into his hair, gripping the locks between her fingers. Her eyes closed tightly as her vision turned white behind them, just as the coil snapped and she felt her wetness cover his cock. His own release came just a few seconds later, a deep growl escaping him as he dropped his head down, his seed coating her walls.

They breathed heavily as they came down from their euphoric high, but it didn’t last long as Ben pulled out of her, sitting on the floor and leaning back against the couch. Y/N sat up, reaching for her robe and pulling it on, tying it around her. The silence was awkward and she wasn’t sure how to break it as she heard him reaching for her lighter and the joint she hadn’t finished. He lit it again, bringing it to his pouty lips and taking a long pull.

“So… when did you find out about Homelander being your son?” she asked, not knowing if that was the best way to start but it was better than addressing what happened just a couple of minutes ago.

“A few days ago,” he replied, the smoke blowing out between his words. “Long story.”

She nodded, unsure of what to say next.

“Ben, what happened-”

“We’re not fucking talking about it, doll,” he snarled, pinning her with an intense glare. “Mention it and I can slit that little throat of yours so fast.”

“I’d like to see you try,” she challenged.

She shifted closer to him, her neck craned back, taunting him. She looked at him with hooded lids, biting her lip to keep her from cackling in his face. She plucked the joint from between his fingers and brought it to her mouth, taking a drag. She dropped her head to meet his gaze, blowing the puff of smoke out directly into his face. She knew she was pushing it, but she also knew he was all talk. When it came to her; if he really wanted to cause her harm he would’ve done it that night.

“Don’t you have another Payback member to kill?” she asked, nonchalant.

His jaw clenched the longer he sat in front of her and saw that she wasn’t giving him the satisfaction he would’ve had if she was scared. He stood up quickly, finding his suit around the room and putting each piece back on. As he picked his shield and walked to the door, she followed behind him, a mischievous grin pulling at her lips as she raised an eyebrow in question.

“Raincheck on that long story?”

“Sure you don’t wanna admit you want me first?” he grinned.

She scoffed. “And inflate that ego of yours even more? No fucking way.”

He growled as he reached up and grabbed the front of her neck, leaning in and kissing her roughly. She snickered slightly as her lips moved against his, pulling away before she could let herself fall further into his strange yet intense hold on her.

Ben pulled away from the kiss, and with a wink and suggestive wiggle of his brow he turned the doorknob, walking out onto the porch and into the night. She closed the door, leaning back against it as she took in the state of her living room. She didn’t get the answers she wanted, hell she barely asked the questions she needed to, but considering she never expected this to happen, for him to actually be alive, she supposed they had time to reveal truths and secrets that had been kept for so long.

Something had changed between them, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t help but dwell on it. If their next encounter was going to be anything like it was moments ago, then how could she not? He was a brute and she couldn’t stand him, but fuck it, the sex was worth it.

And that alone was the reason she could learn to tolerate him.

[ihfmseatsoch]

ok ok ok so if i may be so bold as to request something, ive been enamored wiht the idea of an older, controlling, borderline abuse boyfriend jimmy, like he and reader live together on earth, and reader goes to college, while jimmy works physical jobs trying to support them both. he's a SHITTY person though, so hes jealous of any man the reader talks to, reads through their phone, makes sinde comments about their weight and appearance, and (im totally not projecting here) eventually pressures them into dropping out, for like his perfect little live in partner/gf fantasy sjdhasd feel free to do whatever with this, but this specific scenario has not left my head for days

WHEEE this was fun to write ^w^ i rushed this a bit but i just didnt want you to have to wait any longer... :p

—

Jimmy Zare x fem!reader

reader uses fem terms (girl, girlfriend)

genre: how do i categorize this.... fic that makes you feel bad or horny depending on how you handle verbal abuse lol

word count: 1.8k

warnings/content: age gap, domestic abuse, manipulation, arguing, fat shaming, several references to the readers body/appearance, jimmy being the biggest asshole oh my god i hate him (i want him so bad it makes me look stupid)

(is it bad that writing about jimmy yelling at me turns me on... WOAHHH who said that .....😰 also dont kill me for the weight shaming part IM A FAT GIRL !!!!!! i like when evil men are mean to me !!!!!! RAAAH)

—

"He's a good guy, he can actually be really sweet!"

That's a sentence you find yourself saying out of complete muscle memory at this point whenever someone questions why your boyfriend–... well, they question an awful lot about your boyfriend.

For example, why he's over twenty years your senior whilst you're still going to class on the weekdays. Why he doesn't allow you to see your friends, wear certain clothes, leave your apartment without him, and why he takes up so much space in your brain, completely distracting you from your own life and goals.

You've missed at least four assignments this semester alone. It's stupid, really. You thought you'd be done with obsessing and crying over boys after you graduated highschool. It's completely immature for a so-called adult like yourself, but then again, you're hardly into adulthood at all.

Jimmy, on the other hand, has a lot more life experience, many of those experiences negative. That might be why you've taken some form of pity on him, going so far as to move into his apartment so you can take care of him when you're not busy. He needs someone to make sure he doesn't fall off the deep end.

The thing is, it's become hard to fit him in your schedule, but whenever you're unable to make time for him after he comes home from work, that familiar scowl on his face indicating it was another shitty day, he throws a fit.

He'll accuse you of everything under the sun; Infidelity being the primary thing.

"You don't love me. There's someone else, isn't there? It's that one kid that asked you to help him 'study' last week, isn't it? No? Give me your fucking phone, then."

This is what you come home to everyday, so it's nothing new. In fact, you're pretty used to it by now. Though today, Jimmy seems particularly pissed.

"Where have you been?" He crosses his arms and leans against the wall, eyeing you up and down like he always does when he's about to grill you on something.

"Sorry..." You mutter, way too tired to deal with one of his moods again. "Traffic." You answer simply, not having enough energy to overexplain yourself like you normally do.

"Uh huh. Traffic." He mimics you in a way that already tells you he's not buying it. Great.

"...It's the truth." You shrink into yourself at the way he's looking at you. Contemptuous as always. You're in for another argument, it seems. A million, desperate pleas run through your mind;

'Please don't give me another lecture about how you're my only financial support, and how grateful I should be. Please don't ask to see my phone. Please don't tell me to drop out.'

But, of course, you can't actually change the outcome of this. You're gonna get yelled at. Belittled. Degraded.

"You're two hours late, and you're gonna tell me you were just stuck in traffic?" He pushes himself off the wall and walks towards you.

"You're never home when you're supposed to be, and when you are home, you're all tired and upset.” He pokes a finger into your shoulder, hard. "What do you think that looks like from my point of view?"

"I'm sorry." You rub your face, exasperated. God, you wish he would shut up sometimes. Sure, he can be amicable, but lately... he's been a raging dick. Yet, you can't help but cling to the memory of his good moments. "I'll try to make it back on time tomorrow."

"Yeah? And how many times have I heard that before?" He sneers, "You're hiding something from me, aren't you?"

The way he accuses you so confidently, so sure of himself... it's insulting. Does he really think that little of you? "College has been kicking my ass, Jim. You know that. I'm not hiding anything from you, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, college this, college that. Always complaining about fuckin' college," He scoffs, his eyes stay narrowed, still glaring. "How about what I'm going through? You think I'm having a great time every day at work, hm?"

"No, I–" You stammer, hating the way he's turning this around to make himself the victim. Oh, woe is him, having to provide for himself and his girlfriend. How tortured he is. "I know, alright? I'm sorry. I just– what else do you expect me to do?"

"Be here. Like you're supposed to be. And I expect you to stop acting like I'm the bad guy for asking you to be a decent girlfriend."

Jimmy's voice raises slightly as he takes a step closer, towering over your sheepish figure. He nudges your shoulder again, even rougher this time.

"I'm busting my ass every day to put food on the table, and you can't even have the decency to show up on time, let alone look happy to see me?"

"I– I am happy to see you! I am, I'm just– you don't get it. I want to be here, but... I'm not even halfway through this semester, and–" You stumble over your words as you attempt, in vain, to defend yourself. It's not like he'll ever feel sympathy for you. It's always about what he wants. What makes him happy.

Jimmy rolls his eyes at your attempt to reason with him. It's as if he doesn't even register a word you say. "But what? What's more important to you, huh? Some stupid classes, or the guy who keeps a fuckin' roof over your head and feeds you? Be grateful, goddamn it." He snaps, grabbing your arms and giving them a forceful shake.

You flinch from being handled like you're not even a human being, much less one with feelings. "Stop, please, I'm– I am grateful, I really am..." You're not lying, either. To be honest, his guilt tripping works wonders on you. Are you really acting unappreciative? He wouldn't be this upset if you were in the right...

He seems unfazed by your frightened demeanor and continues to hold a firm grip on your arms. He looks you up and down, not even having to say anything for you to know he's judging you, as a girlfriend and person in general.

"Oh, you're grateful? Then maybe you should act like it for once." Jimmy gives your arms another firm shake, a harsh reminder of who's in charge here.

"I'm not asking much of you. I just want you to be here, and you can't even do that. Do you think I'm just gonna sit back and accept that bullshit?"

"No..." You shake your head, looking down at the ground in shame. Were you really that awful? You didn't want to be a bad partner, it's the last thing you ever wanted. If you could make eye contact without feeling guilty, you'd see Jimmy's face light up with satisfaction as he finally notices you're not even bothering to put up a fight anymore.

There's a condescending lilt to his tone as he speaks, "No one will ever love you like I do. You know that?"

You nod, knowing there has to be some truth to his claim. He takes care of you, doesn't he? He keeps a roof over your head, gives you money for groceries, and he's not always that unpleasant to be around...

He's a good boyfriend. You're the problem. You always are.

"Exactly."

The grip on your arms eases, moving them to place a hand on each of your shoulders, contrastingly gentle compared to his behavior only moments ago.

"You oughta thank your lucky stars you have a man like me who puts up with all your bullshit. You get that, right? How lucky you are to be with me?"

You know he's right. You were blessed with someone who still loves you, despite your many shortcomings. You're too fat, the acne on your face and body is repulsive, the way you do your makeup is weird... all of this being things Jimmy has told you directly. At least you have an honest boyfriend, isn't that what every girl wants?

He gives your shoulder a pat, like he's treating you like a small, petulant child. "You realize I could have literally any girl I want, right? Pretty, skinny, smart ones, even. But I chose you. Because I care about you."

He pauses, letting that sink in.

"But it would help if you'd actually put the effort in to look decent." He adds as an afterthought.

You've internalized every single snide remark he's thrown your way, reminded of them every single time you look in the mirror. Yet he still loves someone like you. Someone so difficult and embarrassing to be with.

"Jim, I don't... I don't know how I'm even gonna be able to free my schedule at all with school and stuff..." You mumble guiltily. You know he wants you to drop out, he's suggested it more times than you can count.

"That right there, that's why I'm frustrated, goddamn it," He says with an exacerbated sigh. He moves one hand from your shoulder to pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "Why don't you get it? Dropping out isn't the end of the world. Just quit and stay home. Done. Easy."

"It's not that easy... I want to get a good job and help out too, you know..."

It's true that you want to pull your weight around your shared home. With your combined income, it'd make everything easier. But... with how shitty college makes you feel, leaving you beaten down and tired by the end of the day...

You find yourself listening to Jimmy on this for once.

He can tell you're seriously contemplating it this time, which makes him feel... more in control. He's got you thinking and believing exactly what he wants you to. Soon, he'll be able to get you to obey him without another word from you.

The thought of having you as his subservient, stay at home girlfriend is more than appealing. It's his goal to mold you into what he wants you to be.

"Yeah, yeah, I get that, I know. But you're stressing yourself half to death, and for what? Some stupid degree? Listen to me, I'm not gonna ask you again. You're just creating problems that don't need to exist. Just quit. You'll have plenty of free time that you can spend with me."

You can't deny how tempting the idea is. Hesitantly, after several moments of pondering the hypotheticals and what-ifs, you speak up,

"...I guess... dropping out wouldn't hurt too much."

He perks up at that, barely being able to contain a delighted grin. You're actually putting him and his wants first, and acknowledging that he's right. You're doing as he says, without any of the usual arguing or excuses. He'll finally have his dream complaisant, docile girlfriend to come home to every night.

It only took a month or two to finally get you to cave. You'll be easier to control from now on. Hell, maybe you'll lose some weight with some free time on your hands, stop wearing that shitty makeup...

"Good girl," He says in a patronizing tone, like he's addressing a child, "That's what wanna hear."

God, you really hope this isn't a bad idea. Jimmy looks pleased for once, so...

This decision can't possibly ruin your future too badly, right?

—

[harrywavycurly]

Fake Husband Eddie Part 2: Meeting Someone?

Part 1: here

Part 3: here

Tag List: @alana4610 @fluentmoviequoter @alicentswife @vivalasv3gan @goth-cowgirl-03 @yujyujj @slowgabinaburninroom @zaddyskye69

TW: Cursing and drinking

A/N: Before you all come for me don’t worry there is a part 3 and it’s the final part of this little trilogy lol also idk why I added in Frank and the Hideout backstory it was just something that was sitting in the back of my mind and it fit. Anywayyyy enjoy!!✨

You smooth out the front of your shirt as you sit down on one of the worn out barstools at the back of the Hideout. It’s been exactly a week since you met Eddie and it only felt right that the two of you have your first official date at the bar you met at. Over the span of a week you two have gotten to know each other quite well, you learned that Eddie would much rather FaceTime you than text you because he likes to hear your voice, especially your laugh he loves how it sounds even through the phone. You also learned that he loves his job, he works at the garage in town and he’s always got his head under someone’s hood fixing a transmission or tinkering with a stubborn fuel line.

Eddie has learned things about you as well, he knows that you like to read before bed and he doesn’t know why but it shocked him a bit to learn the two of you have a few books in common on your bookshelves. He notices things like how you try to hide your face when you’re smiling and he just assumes that’s something you’ve always done but he’s made a mental note to try to remind you how pretty you are when you smile because it’s really one of his favorite things to see. You go on little rants about things that have bothered you during the day and he loves how passionate you get because your arms go everywhere and you also always end it with “you know what I mean?” and even if he has no clue he can’t help but smile and just nod and reassure you that yes he knows what you mean.

The two of you have grown close over the past several days and you’ve started to develop a rather large crush on the long haired metal head. Luckily for you though Eddie made his feelings known the night he drove you home from the hideout.

“You know what?” You turn your head and look at Eddie who’s smiling at you as he watches you reach for the handle of the passenger side door of his van.

“What?” Eddie leans over his middle console so he can tuck a few stay hairs behind your ear making you blush as you feel his hand brush against your cheek.

“I think I like you.” You raise an eyebrow at him as you playfully glare at him making him laugh.

“You think?” You tease as Eddie reaches for your hand that has his skull ring on it, you smile as you watch him twirl it around your finger since it’s a little too big for you but you like how it feels so you haven’t taken it off.

“Sorry sweetheart.” He looks up at you as you find yourself leaning into him. “I know I like you.” He adds right before he places a kiss to your lips making you smile as he pulls away.

The sound of a glass being set down in front of you jolts you out of your daydream as you blink a few times before looking around to see if Eddie has shown up yet. You look at your phone and see it’s only ten minutes past six, the time you both agreed to meet so you just brush it off to him being a little late and look up to see the bartender cleaning a few glasses in front of you.

“What can I get ya?” Frank the bartender and half owner of the Hideout asks as he gives you a smile. “I make a mean martini.” He jokes as he shoots you a playful wink making you laugh.

“Uh I’ll just have a vodka tonic please.” He nods and starts making your drink. “Have you worked here a while?” You ask trying to make small talk to help the time pass before Eddie shows up and this is only the second time you’ve ever been here so might as well get to know the bartenders.

“You could say that.” Frank answers as he slides your drink in front of you. “I’m Frank and I may not look it but I’m one of the Hideout's original customers.” You just nod your head encouraging him to continue as you take a sip of your drink, Frank is an older gentleman with long gray hair he has tucked into a low pony on the back of his neck and a few tattoos scattered around his forearms that are only visible because he has his flannel rolled up to his elbows. “I helped them name this place because we used to meet here back in the day when it wasn’t actually a bar, to hideout from people we didn’t want to see or nagging wives we were avoiding so when they wanted to turn it into a bar I said why not just call it the Hideout?” Frank explained and you couldn’t help but giggle at the mention of avoiding nagging wives.

“It’s a great name.” You watch him smile as he looks around the bar to see if anyone needs anything.

“Meeting someone?” Frank asks as he glances down at the giant skull ring on your ring finger.

“Uh yeah.” You’re not sure how to answer his question so you just go with your gut. “My husband actually.” Frank just smiles and nods as he goes back to cleaning glasses as you slowly sip on your drink as you anxiously look at your phone again and let out a sigh when you see it’s now six thirty.

Eddie is elbows deep in a minivan’s engine that is just refusing to let him get his fingers in the correct place to install a new part. He lets out a frustrated groan as he takes a step back from the van and places his grease covered hands on his hips and closes his eyes and looks up towards the ceiling of the garage. He wonders for a moment what you’re going to wear on your date with him tonight, he’s had tonight circled on his calendar all week and he’d be lying if he didn’t say he even added little hearts to it and everything.

“Why do all minivans have to be so damn stubborn?” He mumbles as he opens his eyes and takes a step closer to the van. “I’m just trying to help you.” He explains as he uses his wrist to wipe some sweat off his brow, as he drops it back down to his side he feels his whole world begin to move in slow motion when he catches the time on his watch. “Oh fuck fuck fuck.” He drops the wrench in his left hand and heads for the break room of the garage.

“Eddie?” Greg the parts guy asks as Eddie rushes past him so he can grab his stuff from his locker.

“I’m late!” Eddie shouts over his shoulder as he heads for the door. He quickly jumps into his van and starts the engine as he digs around in his bag for his phone. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding.” He groans when he sees his phone is on 10% battery because he forgot to put it on the charger after falling asleep on FaceTime with you last night. He looks at the clock and silently prays to whoever it is that might be listening to let you still be waiting for him even though it’s well after eight at night and he was supposed to meet you at six.

“Shit shit.” He presses your name in his phone and it rings once before his whole screen goes black meaning his phone is dead. “Fuck!” Eddie feels like his heart is in his stomach as he pulls out of the parking lot of his work and heads straight for the Hideout.

He doesn’t look for your car in the bar’s parking lot because he knows you planned to get dropped off so he could just take you home. He not so gently snatches his keys from the ignition after putting it in park and slams his door closed as he exits the van. He ignores the looks he’s getting form the men outside smoking as he rushes into the bar, he’s sure he looks like he’s lost with his work overalls on tied around his waist and his hair in a messy bun and grease stains everywhere. Frank turns when he hears the door open and he raises an eyebrow at Eddie when he lets out a sigh at all the empty seats in the back of the bar, exactly where you told him you’d be so he could meet you.

“Looking for your wife?” Eddie looks at the bartender and nods his head because you’d been jokingly calling yourself his wife all week so of course you’d tell the bartender you were waiting for your husband. Frank tosses something at Eddie and when he catches it and sees what it is he feels his heart break a bit. “Left about an hour ago.” He adds as Eddie stares at the skull ring that’s sitting in the palm of his hand.

“Oh no.” And with that Eddie turns on his heels and runs straight back out to the parking lot towards his van because no way is he letting him being an idiot be the reason you two end things.

[sgiandubh]

Oh, hello

The Sibyl of Tydavnet was supposedly back home, and we finally have something to speculate upon, after a week-end with no news from both of Them (go figure). So much so that it's been very, very quiet in here:

This is, of course, a latergram, When being the important question, here. I have to say I was a bit surprised, after two hours of research (and cooking, but that is a separate story).

Let's unpack:

From 1974 to 2023, the Monaghan County Museum has been open and free to visit. Until 1981, in the old Courthouse building of Monaghan Town, then temporarily hosted by the Christian Brothers Secondary School, and since 1986 in this building on Hill Street:

I am not inventing anything, this info comes straight from their official website:

On May 18th, 2023 (on International Museum Day), the venue was closed and the collections were planned to be moved at the new Monaghan Peace Campus:

The Peace Campus is a very important local initiative, funded by the City Council, the Irish Department of Rural and Community Development and the EU, via the Irish SEUPB (Special EU Programs Body - ironically, the counterpart of my new job, starting next Friday, LOL). It was inaugurated on May 10, 2024:

Where was C, in this clip, posted today and suggesting a recent trip to Ireland?

In the old building, of course, exactly as it was on May 18, 2023:

Apparently taken on an extensive private tour that included the storage area, where this pic was taken:

How do I know it? I simply combed the meager social media accounts of the Museum, that's all. See and compare for yourself, with this screenshot of the moving operations, from the old Hill Street to the new premises (posted on Facebook, on June 14th, 2024, but very likely shot slightly before):

In April 2023, the new Peace Campus looked roughly like this. There is no way that clip would have been shot there. Not then...

...and not later, because the new display in the new venue looks totally different:

And it was completed around May 10th 2024, when this picture was taken, separately from the rest of the released info:

The pic was taken by Laura Hogan, the North East Correspondent for RTE News, a subsidiary of the Irish public TV and Radio broadcasting company:

But perhaps even more interestingly, the Museum shot several clips of people featured, like C, in the new inaugural exhibition. Such as this guy, back in June 2023, on their old premises:

Ardal O'Hanlon, Irish stand-up comedian and actor, based in Ireland and London:

This is a very, very, VERY late latergram. My best guess would be anytime between May 2023 and most probably around June 2023. Simply because it would be logical that the clip shooting be completed with all the people involved at the same time, for logistical reasons, and before the packing of the exhibits would have started in earnest.

As always, I could be wrong. As always, people will bitch around, especially the divas and those who know strictly nothing. But I'll be damned if C were in Ireland anytime near this last week-end!

[inkedbookboyfriend]

Vulnerable StoryTime 2024 in review:

(Please do not reblog. But know if I can get through the following and still be super positive and optimistic, then so can you. I believe in you and hope my story helps)

2024... Wow, what a year!! Started off with new years day 911 call and getting admitted to the ER for a month. During that time I was dating a gal who I was in a volatile/narcissistic relationship with. We were planning on getting a place and I was going to raise her son as my own (that she was pregnant with when we met and already had 3 other kids so what was one more right 🤷🏻 i always wanted to be a dad) and kid was born in November and things were great. Then January happened. Got admitted for my flare up of ulcerative colitis and went through three infusion treatments and couldn't get it under control.

January 24th I woke up in my hospital bed screaming to "get it the f**k out of me" as my colon went mega toxic colon and I was distended the size of a beach ball (it was dead and exploding inside of me) had it removed. No more colon and was left with an ileostomy bag to shit in for the rest of my life (if I chose not to do jpouch procedure) and my life was forever changed.

I had almost died from organ failure due to malnutrition from not eating since December 2nd (was down from 207 in prime shape working out everyday to 150lbs) had a pick line put in with a bag of nutrients to keep me alive during this. The whole time in the hospital the girl I was dating never came to see me. We fought etc and not to mention on January 16th the baby passed away due to sids during that major icestorm we had (she lived two hours away in Eugene where it was very bad. So here I am almost dying, baby I was planning on being a dad to died, malnutrished, 150lb skeleton, lost my Colon, stuck shitting in an ileostomy bag and then she ghosts me (which I understood her baby dying I can't imagine how she felt)...

I get pushed out of hospital a week later and scared af, traumatized by so much of everything and get massive infection 3 days after being released and taken back to hospital. Surgery number two to insert drainage tube and was there most of February. Get out and have two massive wounds from on surgical line from the infection.

Then she pops back up out of no where and find out she was cheating on me and having a whole ass other full time relationship with another guy and she was cheating on him with another guy on top of that! Like wtf how is this possible! Literally extremely sick and twisted... so that ends! Then comes the worst shit you can say to another human being "Of course I cheated. You have a bag of shit stuck to the side of you. I'd never touch you again. No woman will. I was only with you for your money anyways and that's all you'll ever be good for now. No one wants to be with someone like that". Dude I've never been so hurt in my entire life.... I wanted to die after everything I had been through and still dealing with.

Back to health: so now I'm going to wound care 3 times a week to have dressing changed for a month then get a wound vac put on for another month and a half and during that time trying to learn to change this stupid bag lol (I had the hardest time doing that) now we're in May and end back up in the hospital for a week for infection again.

Then out of nowhere I wake up one night in pain! Horrible pain and can't move. Took 30 minutes to get out of bed and another month of Dr appointment and test and then get to rheumatologist to find out that my ulcerative colitis now attacks my joints like severe rheumatoid arthritis because it is an autoimmune disease. Even though my colon was gone it now attacks this, greeeeeat. So I now have to take an injection 💉 once a week on top of a ton of other meds and an ungodly amount of pain meds just to function daily. I still get flare ups but they are now short and fast lived. Few days max but they are rough and I hurt like he'll.

Then I meet Jessica. An amazing woman whom I adored and we would just talk for hours. She was a great woman and mom and she made me feel like a human being again. Helped restore my confidence and made me realize how much of a good man I really was. I gave her and her kiddo the world and summer and fall were great. However, she had alot of emotional Baggage and abuse she was dealing with from her ex (won't go into detail but was alot) and unfortunately it just wasn't going to work. We split up and that was rough too because it was a great relationship for what it was. Just wrong timing but we both got what we needed from the other to grow as people.

Then surgery number 3 happened during this time too and she was great (unlike the other one lol) and it went could to clean up all the scar tissue and and pull my stomach facia back together because it had split from the infection. But a day later I developed a hematoma along the whole surgical line. Basically a 13" blood clot and they had to go back into surgery again 2 days later.(#4 this year) and recovering this time was so much harder. Last few months had no energy and way more difficult due to the amount of trauma my body has been through.

Now I didn't cover all but the main parts. Here is what I took from this year.

It was the hardest, weakest, strongest and most challenging and growing year of my life. I had my lowest lows and my highest highs.

I found and lost love twice (which is surprising in itself considering I never date) I mourned the loss of a child, but I experienced him for a month and a half prior so was blessed with that even though he wasn't mine, I endured the most narcissistic/manipulative person alive, I found the most amazing, kind, loyal and encouraging person too, I learned true patience and understanding from her and her situation, I learned healing and self dependence on a level I never knew existed, I found myself after losing myself, I accepted total defeat and over came it, I found strength I never knew anyone could have, I found compassion and empathy in ways I can't explain because I also found true forgiveness and actually forgive Mariah for the evil she did.

Life is never what we expect it nor will it ever be perfect. We can only choose to be patient and understanding of everything we have and be fully grateful for life itself! It is so short my friends... so short. Make the most of it. Take chances. Take risks. Give yourself the opportunity to have an amazing life and be happy but most of all find your peace.

Find forgiveness and let go of the pain and hurt others caused you. We are not what has happened to us. We are not what anyone has done to us. Those were actions and choices reflecting on them. Let it go.

Find the people who choose you consistently day in and day out and please be kind.. always be kind to others because you never know what they're going through.

If I can get through and handle all that and still happy, smiling, helping others, trying to make as many people smile and laugh as possible, then you can get through whatever you're going through I promise you! I believe and have faith in you and am always here for anyone whoever needs to talk!

P.S.

GO TO DISNEYLAND & GET A TATTOO!!

(My cousin took me for the first time in my life, and it was my dream come true)

[lace-coffin]

Hello 🤗 I was wondering what kinda rules do you think Asa would have set for one of his pets? I imagine he'd be really particular about them giving him respect and being submissive, but do you think he has a concrete set of written rules or more of a general guideline of what he expects. Idk of that made sense lol.

What rules does Asa have for his pet/SO? (NSFW)

Asa Emory x gn!Reader

Trigger warning for power/bdsm dynamics and general Asa Emory things.

Requests are open!

This is a super fun ask omg! I love love love talking abt what kind of dom Asa is so I’m so happy with this request!

Honourifics- honourifics are always to be used when addressing or replying to asa. Sir, master are used regularly. If you really want to rile him up then daddy or Mister work prefect, the perversity of it doing something animalistic to him. Calling Asa God or “my God” will draw out his more sadistic egotistical side, tell him how you’re only committed to him, your life is in his hands and you’re nothing but the ground beneath him. Lave over his heavy leather boots in worship.

Collars and marking- collars are worn daily, taken off at night so you can sleep comfortably and not risk choking (he wants to be the one doing the choking ; ) ) if you’re uncomfortable with a full collar then a daytime collar can be worn, usually a chain of some sort with your name tag and return information on it. “Cricket, property of The Collection, if lost return to Asa Emory”

Respect- disrespect will not be tolerated, talking back or lashing out will end in punishment, it depends how severe the offence was. Ignoring him or muttering a rude comment under your breath might earn you a single slap to the ass to correct you in the moment. Having a smart mouth the whole day will have worse consequences and may require a scene to be planned and negotiated prior.

Scenes - your BDSM relationship with Asa is a 24/7 dynamic, this means all the planning and communication comes with it. You use the traffic light system, green for good/continue, yellow for slow down or take a break and red for stop. Asa would never do anything you don’t want or consent to, he may be strict and domineering but your safety is key to him. If your mouth is restrained or you’re not feeling up to speaking in sub space then there are non-verbal safe words in place for you to use.

Clothing and inspections - all clothing is to be approved by asa before you get ready for the day, you can either pick out an outfit on your own and have it approved or let your master choose one and lay it out on the bed ready for you. He’s more than happy to aid you in getting dressed, loving the sense of dependancy you show him.

Bodily inspections are done once a week, Asa prides himself on keeping you in the best physical health he can, this doesn’t end at just an ordinary checkup however. Slipping on his latex gloves (unless ur allergic!) and prying your holes open, delving his fingers into you as your squirm against them under the guise of checking you’re healthy. Filthily commentating the entire time. “Look at that pretty pink hole, stretched open all for me”

Scheduled meals and bedtimes - Asa likes routine and can get antsy when running behind (totally not me projecting my autism onto him) this transfers over to your routine too. Lunch and dinner (and dessert < 3) are served at the same time every day, asa expects you to be ready and waiting at the table. A strike will be added to your chart if your late. Three strikes and a punishment will be given. Sir will decided where you dine everyday, if you’ll be joining him at the table or eating on the floor from a personalised bowl. Breakfast isn’t at a set time, he knows the amount of sleep you get/need will fluctuate so he’s happy to let you sleep in until you feel ready to get up.

Bedtime is usually also at a set time, around 1 am, he knows you’re not a child and won’t make you sleep early but still wants you in bed at a reasonable time, usually ushering you into bed at 12 and giving you an hour to read or to watch videos. Usually you either share a bed with asa or sleep in your kennel/cage, sometimes in a combination of the two you sleep at the foot of the bed.

Language- Asa discourages the use of swearing but he won’t punish you for it, he might give you a stern look but that’s the extent of it.

Chastity - your sir has a dainty key hanging on a chain around his neck at all times, your body is his as is your sexual pleasure and your genitals. Chastity devices are worn until he decides it’s time to play, attempts at touching will result in punishment, he does however like the desperate look on your face as you rut against the fabric of the sofa like a pathetic mutt in heat. He won’t let you know that though. Sometimes he’ll bring you to the edge of orgasm, panting and whining as your body shakes, only to remove his hand/cock or toy and slide the device back on. The pitiful cries and “it’s not fair”s from you after are even more beautiful than seeing you cum in his mind. Don’t lash out or act out after otherwise the time spent without release will be extended just to spite you.

Relating back to food and drink Asa expects you to drink a minimum of 500ml of water or juice a day, he knows 1-2 litres is unrealistic and doesn’t want you needing to pee constantly. He’s happy as long as your hydrated, if you have particularly bad days with fatigue or depression he’ll help you drink by bringing the straw to your mouth as he holds you. Medication needs to be taken at the correct time, both your alarm clock and Asa’s watch has an alarm set on it so you don’t miss it.

Whilst Asa can be sadistic most of his rules are for your wellbeing along side your obedience, only wanting the best for you whilst you’re under his control.

I hope u like this!! Was literally so fun to write! I love this chunky bug man and ungodly amount <3

[journen]

Riley family photo! 🥺 Mama Riley, Simon, Joseph, Tommy and Beth!

Wanted to design Simon's fam for so long, so here we are! And I wrote a bunch more headcanons I have for them, and for the context of this photo being taken, under the cut below!! 🥺 And also, just, huge thank you to all the fic authors out there who expand on Simon's family in their fics, I live so much for all your content 😭🧡

Okay so, as for a lot of the Riley family thoughts I had when I was drawing this artwork. These may kinda be in random order..

So I'm imagining this pic was taken at Simon's mom's house! She had a friend over (or something) when Tommy, Beth(Tommy's wife), baby Joseph, and Simon, who's been visiting for the past week or so, come over.

I'm imagining this is several months post-Roba, but the Roba stuff is still pretty recent. Simon is still wearing the mask because he doesn't want his family or others to see his facial scars too often, but I imagine on some occasions, if it's just him and his fam, he's okay taking it off, but bc they're visiting the mom and she has a friend over he keeps it on.

So I think this is his second time visiting his family post-Roba? He's done some healing, and recovery since then, so he's more stable visiting his family, though I imagine it's still a weird experience for him but he's trying to get better. And yeah he's visiting for a couple weeks here. I wanted him to seem kinda slimmer tho, like he's not hugely bulky bc I imagine he lost a lot of weight in captivity and is still putting weight back on.

Also this is a total side note, but I really love the idea so much that baby Joseph brought Simon out of his shell a lot more post-Roba? Like I imagine he had a really hard time initially learning to bond again and heal, but having little baby Joseph who's too young to judge him and is so innocent, is good for him? 🤣 So on Simon's time visiting his fam he spends a lot of time with baby Jo. I think he'd thank Joseph a lot for helping him come out of his shell post Roba.

Okay, but yeah for the photo!! So Simon , Tommy and them go to visit the mom, maybe to help her move some things, or bring her over some stuff. Simon, who's staying with Tommy (bc he doesn't like to stay at his mom's house as much bc it's the childhood home) comes over too. Maybe they end up all sitting and chatting together, and then maybe Simon's mom asks if the friend can take a family photo of all of them? Bc I bet they have like, so few family photos of them as adults, if any. And so Simon, who I hugely hc hates photos being taken of him 😂 agrees ofc for his mom bc he loves her and wants to make her happy ahaha. And so they all pose for the pic together.

I think Tommy and Simon also look pretty similar, just have different hairstyles/ colours and eye colours. They're unmistakable as brothers if you see them side by side tho lol. And Beth, I imagine she met Tommy when he was in recovery, maybe they were both in some therapy program together (I don't think I hc her as a recovering addict like Tommy, but she had other reasons for being in therapy at that time in her life) and they hit it off. She has red hair bc that's the colour hair she has in the comics, and I like to imagine she's just super radiant and pretty, and maybe a little punk too? XD Or she was in her past, hence the piercings and tattoos. She's also just the coolest lady and happiest mom ever.

Also Beth definitely is trying to convince Mama Riley to get a nose piercing.

[danceofthephilos]

Hanakotoba and the Meanings of Flowers in SK8 the Infinity

Ranging from very overt allusions in the text to single pieces of official art, almost every main character in SK8 has been associated with a flower. Hanakotoba, the Japanese language of flowers, is something that the creators were attentive to, evidenced by its mention both in the show itself and by staff in discussion about the episodes, and considering how hanakotoba might have been taken into account in the other examples of flower imagery can add an interesting layer of symbolism to speculate on.

The hanakotoba columns on GreenSnap were my primary source for this post, but I've crosschecked the meanings on multiple websites as much as possible to ensure the factual information here is accurate to the best of my ability. This is quite a long post, so bear with me.

🌹 Roses 🌹

Naturally, the first flower to start with is the one that is directly mentioned in the show itself:

As Adam says, red roses do mean "passionate love", though his particular wording (jounetsu no ai) is slightly paraphrased from how that meaning is typically worded. (If you look up the meaning of roses in hanakotoba, you may see netsuretsu na koi (熱烈な恋) instead.) They can also simply mean "love" and "passion" (ai and jounetsu, as Adam uses in this line), as well as "beauty" and "I'm in love with you."

In Japanese as in English, red roses are a very classically romantic gift, so in the finale and the Blu-ray box art, it seems Adam's passionate love hasn't waned.

There are also specific meanings for certain numbers of flowers in a bouquet of roses, and while it's never stated how many roses are in the first bouquet Adam brings Langa, extrapolating from how many flowers are visible in the shots and how many are hidden, as well as the bouquet at Adam's birthday display at the 2022 NAMJATOWN collaboration containing 50 flowers (as I was able to confirm from some fans' photos from better angles, that I won't be reposting here as they were personal photos on Twitter) I believe that the bouquet in the show also contains 50, which means "eternity."

Adam's bouquets to Langa are also not the only times roses appear in relation to him, nor is red the only color they appear in. Several flashback shots of Ainosuke and Tadashi as children feature red roses, which has quite clear subtextual implications, especially alongside the comparison between Tadashi and Langa made in the show itself.

But one prominent flashback also includes pink roses, meaning "deep impression."

In Ainosuke and Tadashi's last scene together in the finale, there's a vase of purple roses behind them, meaning "pride" or "respect."

And his graffiti tag from the 2022 Infinity Week art features blue roses, which, along with being in Langa's image color, mean "dream come true", "impossible" or "miracle."

Roses also have a lengthy history of associations with gay men, both in real-life Japanese gay culture and in the boys' love genre, and how this relates to the use of rose imagery in SK8 could (and likely eventually will) be its own post, but it's an extra aspect to take into consideration with Adam especially.

As a bonus, the mangaka for the official manga adaptation also drew Langa and Reki with red and blue roses (respectively) to celebrate the season finale:

And while Reki is never associated with roses in any more official capacity, Langa does have red roses in his house that are visible in a few scenes:

~

🌷 Tulips 🌷

This is another one that's directly confirmed, this time regarding Shadow's bouquet in the ending montage.

For love bouquets, Adam uses roses, so Hiromi-chan's was tulips and white baby's breath. In hanakotoba, red tulips mean "confession of love." Pink means "sincere love." Orange means "shyness", so we went with these three. Plus, white tulips are "new love" or "unrequited love" so we stopped there… (lol) By the way, in hanakotoba, baby's breath means "innocent love" and "gratitude."

(Episode 12 Director Masatoyo Takada, Skater's Backstage)

Tulips in general mean "charity" and "thoughtfulness", and Shadow is frequently associated with them outside of just this scene, whether on his clothes or in official merchandise. "Tulip" is also the name of the flower shop where he works!

He's holding another bouquet of tulips on the Blu-ray box art, as well, with the same colors as in the finale - but with the addition of the mentioned white tulips for "unrequited love", and yellow tulips, which can mean "honesty", but can mean "unrequited love" (or "hopeless love") too... Sorry, Shadow.

~

🌺 Hibiscus 🌺

Moving away from directly stated connections into slightly more obscure ones, Reki is nevertheless visually associated with hibiscus in several places, both in shots in the show and in his 2021 birthday art.

Hibiscus flowers generally can mean "new love", "trust" and "I believe in you" (a meaning thought to originate from Hinduism), while red hibiscus specifically (as Reki is depicted with) mean "bravery."

Hibiscus flowers are also considered as symbol of Okinawa as a whole, making them an especially fitting flower for Reki, who's implied to be of indigenous Ryukyuan descent and is the character who could be considered the most representative of Okinawa (and Langa's new life there) in the show,

~

🌸 Cherry Blossoms 🌸

This one is fairly self-explanatory; Kaoru's surname is Sakurayashiki (sakura being the Japanese word for cherry blossoms), his S name is Cherry Blossom, cherry blossoms feature on his costume and heavily in the decor in his calligraphy studio, et cetera. As one of the most well-known and famously Japanese flowers, they're well suited to Cherry's traditional Japanese image, and the whole aesthetic of his character is themed around them. Even his birthday is on March 27th, Sakura Day in Japan.

In hanakotoba, cherry blossoms' most well-known meaning is "moral beauty", a phrase referring to the beauty of someone's personality or character. They can also mean "graceful woman" or "pure-blooded", and the specific species of cherry blossom that the ones in Cherry's design resemble (somei-yoshino cherry blossoms) can additionally mean "noble" or "innocent." The fact that the same flower with such elegant meanings is related to both his public and S personas adds to the characteristic duality between his outward appearance and private personality.

While not specifically hanakotoba, the French meaning of cherry blossoms also appears to be well-known in Japan - "ne m'oubliez pas", or "don't forget me", associated with ending relationships.

~

💮 Chrysanthemums 💮

Another flower associated with a character through their surname, chrysanthemums are the "kiku" (菊) in Kikuchi. A chrysanthemum also features prominently in the design on Adam's skateboard.

Chrysanthemums also appear on both Adam and Tadashi's clothes in a few pieces of official art.

Chrysanthemums' meanings in hanakotoba are all variations of "nobility" and "purity." They're a flower with great cultural significance in Japan, being the crest of the Imperial family, and often appear as a symbol of Japanese society itself - including on the badges worn by both Diet members such as Ainosuke and even certain ones worn by their secretaries, making this flower one that's representative of a very important aspect of both their lives.

While there's no particular history to this meaning, due to the romantic color, red chrysanthemums such as the one on Adam's board can also mean "I love you."

According to director Utsumi in the 2022 Infinity Week livestream, the chrysanthemum on Adam's board was a happy accident, as Thomas Romain, the artist who designed the board, didn't know Tadashi's name or anything about his history with Adam when creating it. The double layer of symbolism is an incredible coincidence!

~

🌻 Sunflowers 🌻

Joe doesn't have any particular connection with flowers in the show himself, but there is one piece of official art featuring him with sunflowers, which complement the strong association he does have with the sun.

In hanakotoba, sunflowers mean "admiration", "longing" or "I'm only looking at you" - originating from the way sunflowers will always turn to face the sun. As this particular piece of official art was for a magazine feature for White Day (a Japanese holiday where men receive gifts from women they gave gifts to on Valentine's Day), perhaps they're meant to be a gift to him. As Joe's stronger association is with the sun itself (his tattoo is of the sun, his board has the word "sole" - sun in Italian - written on it and a sun incorporated into the design, his restaurant's name (Sia la Luce) translates to "let there be light") he could be seen as the sun that the sunflowers (his admirers) would look towards.

Along with the hibiscus in the image, Reki's birthday event in 2021 also featured sunflowers as part of the display, fitting his yellow image color.

~

❄️ Snowdrops ❄️

And finally, one more case with only a single piece of official art - but one with a very interesting history behind its meanings. In Langa's 2022 birthday art, he's shown holding snowdrops - a natural association with his S name and the fact that he's a former snowboarder.

In hanakotoba, snowdrops mean "hope" and "comfort." These meanings are said, as you will find on any Japanese hanakotoba site, to originate from a story about Adam and Eve dating back to at least 1925, if not earlier (with 1925 being the earliest version of the story the Japanese Wikipedia page on snowdrops is able to cite.) As the story goes, after Adam and Eve were cast out of the Garden of Eden, an angel took pity on them suffering in the winter cold and turned the falling snowflakes into snowdrops, to console them and give them courage. In that 1925 version of the story, the first snowdrop was specifically a gift to Eve:

The Snowdrop Legend When the first winter lay white upon the earth, Eve sorely missed the beautiful things of the field. An angel who pitied her seized a snowflake and, breathing upon it, bade it live, for her delight. It fell to the earth a flower, which Eve caught to her breast with gladness, for not only did it break the spell of winter, but it carried assurance of divine mercy. Hence the flower means consolation and promise.

With both the superficial connections of being winter flowers named after snow and their connection to SK8's intentional biblical themes (as producer Mari Suzuki described the show as a whole as "the story of Adam searching for Eve" in Animedia March 2021), these have some of the deepest meanings of any of the flowers depicted, despite only appearing in a single piece of art.

The flower imagery SK8 uses is fascinating and surprisingly layered, especially knowing the deliberate attention to hanakotoba that was paid in certain cases, and it'll be interesting to see how it might continue to feature in the future.

[beifong-brainrot]

Headcanons/ramblings on Mako's post B4 scar being a skin graft because projection is a hell of a drug:

Um like trigger warning for medical procedures and descriptions of scars

Skin grafts usually happen when there is severe and extensive damage to an area, and a lot of tissue is lost, so Mako's injury would probably qualify, since it looks like a severe burn, probably up to 3rd degree, or at least extremely severe 2md degree. He probably shouldn't have been walking around afterwards but oh well he is a madlad.

The skin from the graft would probably come from his thighs (or ass lol), or wome other region with undamaged skin that can be covered by clothes. This would leave faint scarring, but not as severe as the actual graft.

It could take at least a few weeks for his graft to heal and he will have to wear bandages for a long time. After the bandages are removed, the graft site will probably be red and ugly lol. I don't really see Mako as someone who would get insecure over the appearance of his scar. I think he'd be more frustrated by the fact that he's not able to do a lot of things with it while it's healing and be overwhelmed by people coddling him.

He'd probably try to get back to work as fast as possible despite literally everyone telling him not to. Even Lin is not happy with this and tries to just make him do paperwork as often as possible.

I honestly think that Bolin would be the main person to take care of Mako at this time. Making sure Mako has his pain medication, carrying things for him, checking on his dressing etc. To the point where it annoys and disconcerts Mako who is not used to getting taken care of especially by his baby bro.

I genuinely think Bolin was terrified by the prospect of losing Mako in the colossus and him going against Mako's wishes and coming back for him feels like a big step for Bolin. I can see him being more willing to put his foot down with Mako, especially when it's for Mako's own good. We've officially gone from "wow my brother is so cool and smart and knows best" to "my brother is a self sacrificing idiot with no regard for his own wellbeing"

The graft may limit movement, especially around the hand and arm. Mako might require physical therapy, and we already see that it seems to be difficult for him to bend out of that hand.

He would probably be required to keep his scar out of the sun, so he could wear a glove over it

He could also wear a pressure garment over his scar, so gloves galore. Nothing new for mr depression era gloves.

Because the grafts might not have sweat or oil glands, it would require to be kept moist with lotions for at least a few months. Be could, of course, do it on his own, but it may be easier to get someone to help him. Mught be a good ship moment for whomever you ship him with lol.

[jeonqkooks]

our beloved summer | jjk (06)

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader

genre/warnings: exes au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, swearing, kissing (omg k1ss1ng omg WHO IS IT ??? 😦), tbh this is the only warning i wanted u guys to read cuz 6 chapters in and we finally get sum action i feel like that's a win lmaooooo, jimin being Real as fook, unbeta'd cuz uhm i'm a godless menace who should be conked on the head, once again we are severely lacking jk in his own fic lol i'm owning up to this 🤗 BUT! this is probably the last chapter where jk feels like a side character lol apologies my dudes

rating: PG-13

word count: 8.1k (honestly i wrote obs6 just so i could get to obs7 lmao that's why it's a lil bit shorter)

note: my apologies if this sucks. you are legally allowed to stone me if you hate it. but i hope you don't hate it. but if you do hate it don't tell me just stone me lol 🤐 why am i so unhinged with this update

series masterpost / playlist ; moodboards ; taglist

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

I can see you starin', honey Like he's just your understudy Like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me

Exile - Taylor Swift (ft. Bon Iver)

The picture is fucking terrible.

“Jimin, what the fuck,” you grumble, staring at the huge framed photo on the wall, taken on the day of the opening party. You, Taehyung and Jimin are gathered on the floor of the dance studio, with boxes of takeout neatly sitting between the three of you. “I look like ass.”

Jimin barely glances at the wall, just continues to stuff his face with the dumplings that you ordered. “You look fine,” he says absentmindedly, mouth full, continuing to munch on the food despite your little dilemma.

“Bitch, I have my eyes closed.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“I look like I’m in the middle of a sneeze.” You cross your arms in front of your chest, squinting at your photographed self again. The more you look at it, the more irritated you become.

Realistically, you know nobody would pay enough attention to notice the immortalized visual of your fluttering eyes, and you yourself wouldn’t care about it that much. Maybe you would even laugh in good spirits and poke fun at yourself as you often do. Make a meme of it for the group chat.

“What’s the big deal?” Jimin asks.

You shrug petulantly. “I told you. I look like ass.”

Yeah, true, but it’s also more than that.

It’s the fact that the person standing next to you looks so good that you must voice your grievances. It’s the fact that he looks so much more than just good. 

The guys stop eating to look at you. You wonder just how much of what you’re feeling is written all over your face. Regardless, they don’t comment on it. 

One of them clears his throat, shaking the whole thing off.

“Did you tell Yoongi anything yet?” Jimin asks.

You poke at a lone dumpling with your chopsticks, popping the ‘p’ when you say, “Nope.”

“Damn, Y/N,” Jimin scolds you. “It’s been three weeks. He doesn’t want to push you for an answer but the man has got to be suffering.”

You flick a piece of spring onion garnish at him. It lands on his hair, a single bit of green sitting among golden locks. “I don’t know what to tell him!”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Jimin shakes the onion piece from his head and chucks it back at you. “Obviously you say yes!”

You exhale through your nose, then take a bite of your dumpling. You nibble on the fried dough, stretching out the silence, delaying your response.

It hasn’t even started, and it might not even start. But you’re already thinking about all the things that could go wrong. Yoong is your friend, first and foremost. He’s a good friend, and you would be crushed if you lose that relationship. 

What if he hurts you, or you hurt him?

Sometimes, people are meant to hurt each other even if they don’t mean to.

Yoongi hasn’t seen your pieces in all of their jagged glory, how they’re only meant to reflect the light but never be healed by it. He’s still blissfully unaware of the ugly thoughts that have a home inside your head, and you’re afraid if you let him in, he’d realize it’s a place he doesn’t want to be. It’s hard to love a broken thing. You wouldn’t want to love you either.

Maybe this is the real reason that’s been holding you back all this time. Maybe it isn’t Jungkook - though he certainly isn’t absolved - but it’s you, and how you just don’t know if you’re someone who deserves to love and be loved. You’ve felt inadequate more times than you can count. You’ve been left before. Who’s to say it isn’t going to happen again?

You’re well aware that this is a bad way to look at things, but can anyone really blame you? You still have a heart, and despite how fragmented it is, you still want to protect it.

“I know that look,” Taehyung says, parting your fog and pulling you back to him. “You’re overthinking again.”

You roll your eyes. He knows you so well, but does he have to call you out every time?

“I’m not overthinking. I’m regular thinking.”

“Right. And to normal people, that’s overthinking.”

“It’s just…” you wonder out loud, gaze on the floor. “What if I go all in, and Yoongi sees me for who I am and thinks that I’m just an utterly sad person who can’t be loved? That I’m too much work when he’s got literally thousands of people throwing themselves at him left and right?”

Taehyung stares at the side of your face as he bites the inside of his cheek. His tongue soothes the spot, his jaw clenching once. “He’s not going to think that.”

“You don’t know that,” you say, the corners of your mouth tugging down.

“You’re not unlovable just because one person didn’t love you right. So stop it with that bullshit, because I love you,” he says, voice serious. Even Jimin stays silent as he listens to his friend, his eyes flickering between you and Taehyung. “And Jimin loves you. Hobi loves you.”

You merely blink, because you hate it when he’s right. In all fairness, you understand. This is the same thing you would tell him if the situation were reversed.

You deflect anyway. That’s what you do best.

“You don’t count,” you tell him with an unserious scoff, your tone starkly contrasting his. “You’re my family.”

You taste something bitter as soon as the words leave your mouth. You should know better than anyone, that just because someone’s your family, doesn’t mean they have to love you.

Taehyung reenacts the blinking guy meme before chuckling, holding a hand over his chest like you’ve just wounded him. “Ouch.”

“You two are getting nowhere,” Jimin interjects. “Just call Yoongi.”

“And say what?” you ask.

“I told you. Say yes. God, you’re so dense sometimes.”

You reach over to jab a finger into his side, making him hiss and shuffle away from you.

“That wasn’t nice,” you grumble.

“Well, somebody’s gotta say it.” He gives you a look, eyebrows raised for a few seconds before he lowers them and grows more stern. “Come on, Y/N. You know you don’t want to say no, or else you would’ve turned him down already. You said you wanted to start dating again. Yoongi is practically on his knees offering himself to you. What are you waiting for?”

There’s a voice in the back of your head - tiny, barely audible - that whispers, Who are you waiting for?

“Fuck it, I’ll say it,” Jimin continues. “It sucks balls that Jungkook hurt you, but you can’t let that affect you for the rest of your life. Not everyone is going to hurt you. You’re not even giving Yoongi a chance just because someone else did you dirty. If you keep always thinking about the worst possible outcome and banking on it to happen, then you’re never going to get anywhere. I love you, dude, but y’know.”

You stare at Jimin with your mouth slightly open, stunned into silence. When you glance at Taehyung, he’s surprised too, though probably not as much as you.

After a couple of minutes, you say, “Wow.”

“Tough love. I have my moments.” Jimin shrugs casually, like he didn’t just drop a truth bomb on your head. “But also…” He picks his phone up and types something in. Your phone instantly buzzes with a notification.

“Open the link I just sent you,” he says.

“You are literally sitting across from me.”

“Just open it! I made you a playlist.”

“Aw, Jimin, that’s so cute,” you coo softly, reaching over to pinch his cheek before he swats your hand away. You unlock your phone to see what Jimin made you, because that is some friendship hall of fame stuff right there. However, when the link redirects you to your music app, your smile immediately drops.

Aaand he’s back.

You stare at the screen for a good ten seconds to try and find your bearings, flabbergasted at something that is quite honestly very on-brand for Jimin if you think about it. “You made me a playlist called Dick Appointment with an eggplant emoji and the tongue out emoji and it’s mostly just Yoongi’s songs. Even the playlist cover is from his Valentino shoot.”

“So you can get it on while Agust D plays in the background!” Jimin grins, and you could just smack it right off his face.

“Park Jimin, who raised you? You are vile.”

“Validate me,” he demands. Oh, you would smack him. You really would. “I spent hours making that playlist.”

“It’s literally just Yoongi’s songs.”

“Yeah, but I had to curate an experience. I can’t just dump every song into a playlist and call it a day. I gotta make sure they fit the vibe.”

“I literally just heard the most profound shit from you not even two minutes ago.” Then, you turn to Taehyung with an exasperated look on your face. “Why would you let him do this?”

He just waves a dismissive hand in the air, like Jimin isn’t even there. “I’m not responsible for the stupid shit he does.”

Jimin crosses his arms in front of his chest, both eyebrows raised dramatically as he gapes at you. “You both suck. From now on, you can make your own sexytime playlists.”

“Nobody even asked you to do that!” you cry.

“Yeah! Which makes me an even more considerate friend,” he says. “Ugh. Whatever. Go call Yoongi.”

“You want me to do it now?”

“Yes. Because I know you’ll wuss out when you’re alone. You can stay and put him on speakers for us to hear or you can go out into the hallway. Come on, chop chop.”

“No, I have to text him first,” you protest. “What if he’s busy?”

Jimin narrows his eyes at you suspiciously, but allows you this after a moment. “Fine.”

You take out your phone from your bag that’s lying carelessly on the floor to draft a quick message to Yoongi. 

[12:59] You: got a minute?

The three of you go back to the food, abandoning the previous topic of conversation in favor of something lighter and meaningless or else you would go crazy waiting for Yoongi’s reply. After you’re finished, you and Taehyung are in the middle of putting away all the empty containers and soda cans when your phone buzzes again. 

You go to grab it to look at the notification, hands already starting to sweat.

[13:17] Yoongi: for you? always :)

You turn back to the guys to find them already looking at you. Jimin wiggles his eyebrows suggestively while Taehyung just stares at you.

“Time to get your whore on,” Jimin says in an exaggeratedly sultry voice.

You turn to Taehyung for help. “He’s bullying me.”

“Ignore him,” your best friend tells you gently. “Go call Yoongi.”

When you take your phone out into the hallway, you make sure to go to the far end of it, near the main entrance so the two dorks can’t eavesdrop. You’ll tell them everything once you come back anyway, but you don’t want them within earshot while you’re in the middle of it.

Yoongi picks up your call on the third ring. In the background, your ear picks up on some chatter.

“Hey, princess,” he greets you. Then he holds the phone away from his ear to tell someone that he’d be back in a bit.

“Hey,” you say. “Where are you?”

“Just at a fitting. I have an ad campaign to film next week,” he answers. “Did you call just to get my whereabouts?”

“No, I… If you’re busy, we can talk later.”

“We’re still in the middle of lunch break anyway. What did you want to talk about?”

You briefly regret not taking a minute to psych yourself up before. You suck in a deep breath, which eases your nerves for just a second, long enough for you to say, “Yes.”

You’re met with brief silence from the other end of the line, which only makes your palms more clammy than they already are.

“Yes?” he echoes confusedly. “Yes what?”

“Yes,” you say again. “To…”

The silence commences once more, and lasts longer than you think you can handle. Then, you hear him stop in the middle of a breath.

“Oh.” A subsequent chuckle in response to the lightbulb that must’ve been switched on. “To that?”

“...Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

It feels like you two have invented a secret language that nobody else could understand. A single syllable, bouncing off the metaphorical walls of your conversation. Two idiots sharing the same brain cell.

“Yes?” he continues to prod, but at this point, you know he’s just teasing you.

“Yes! God, stop making me say it again. We sound so stupid.”

He graces you with a hearty laugh that makes you fight back a sheepish smile, even though there isn’t a single soul in sight to witness it. Yoongi makes you so fucking shy for some reason. Your nerves dissolve momentarily as you lean against the wall, your index finger running along a crack in the paint.

“Hmm, I wish you would’ve told me this in person,” he says, his voice soft.

“I can’t handle you in person. You’d tease me so much.”

“Because you’re adorable when you’re flustered, that’s why.” He waits a second before adding, “You’re blushing right now, aren’t you?”

“You’re being overly confident, Min.”

“Maybe,” he responds easily. “But am I right, though?”

“Shut up.”

When Yoongi said he would cook for you, you almost gasped.

“You can cook?” you had asked. It wasn’t an earth-shattering revelation or anything, but you suppose you’d never given much thought to the hidden sides of him. 

“Y/N,” he laughed then. “I’m a great cook. I could probably make a pretty decent career out of being a chef.”

“I didn’t know that,” you told him sheepishly.

“There’s a lot of things you still need to know about me.” It sounded like a promise. Like I’m willing to show you me. Like I’m willing to take the first step if you’d be in this with me too. “Does that sound like a good idea? You, me, dinner at your place?”

“My place?”

“Yeah, so you’ll be more comfortable. I’ll come over.”

This one simple gesture shouldn’t affect you that much, but it does. You appreciate that he’s considerate even when it comes to the littlest things. You swell with gratitude for the thought he puts into this, into putting your comfort first. It made you feel a bit better about yourself, calmed your stormy sea of thoughts enough to rationally accept the fact that he genuinely cares.

Regardless, it doesn’t stop you from spending most of the day obsessively cleaning your apartment. Even - and especially - your bedroom, although you’re sure that is not where the night will end. Every surface is spotless, not a single speck of dust to be found. It’s like the goddamn Pope is coming over for a house inspection. 

You haven’t had a first date in… fuck, how long has it been now? Nine years? It’s almost been a fucking decade already? You honestly can’t tell if that’s embarrassing or not.

But you remember the last time.

College, freshman year, with Jungkook. His yellow piece of sticky note that he slipped inside your favorite book. His adorably flustered expression when he timidly stood in front of you in the campus library. The way he was trying so hard to be confident and charming throughout your first dinner together. How he ran back to you after saying goodnight.

No.

You shut your eyes and shake your head, warding off any Jungkook-related thoughts before they could send you spiraling. You can’t reminisce about your ex while waiting for someone else to show. Yoongi deserves better, and that’s what you’re trying to be.

You’re not exactly sure how nice you should dress tonight. Yoongi told you that you could be clad in sweats for all he cares. If the dinner didn’t hold any connotation other than platonic, maybe you would’ve really donned your loungewear like you were merely having Taehyung and Jimin over for pizza.

You’d completely forgotten all the things people worry about in the early stages of dating, when you want to impress the other person but don’t want them to think that you’re trying too hard. 

Calm down. It’s just Yoongi. He’s seen you ugly crying with mascara running down your face, for fuck’s sake.

In the end, you opt for a sweater and a comfortable skirt. Casual. 

Yoongi rings your doorbell about ten minutes later than when he said he’d be there, holding a bag full of groceries. The visual alone makes you bite back a giggle and subsequently fail. You believe this is what people would call husband material.

You take his coat and guide him into your home. “Welcome to my humble abode,” you say shyly, gesturing around as you lead him into the kitchen to show him where everything is. Why are you acting like this? This isn’t you. If Taehyung or Jimin could see you right now, they would probably laugh. Hoseok would straight up be rolling on the floor.

You barely breathe as you watch Yoongi take in his surroundings. It’s intimidating, even though you know it’s just Yoongi. 

“I actually don’t know what I expected, but I like it. It’s very you,” he comments, smiling.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that it’s cute,” he says, throwing you a wink as he leans against your kitchen counter.

You avert your gaze immediately. “Oh… Thanks,” you reply, fiddling with the hem of your sweater. “So, uhm, what are you making? How can I help?”

“Just sit down. I got this.”

“Yoongi,” you say his name in protest. “I want to h-”

“I’m trying to romance you here. Let me do that,” Yoongi says, his smile turning lopsided as he starts emptying the contents of his grocery bags. Even though his tone is light, the gentle reminder of tonight being a date shuts you right up.

You take a seat at your dining table, though you can’t really sit still. As Yoongi starts working, you absentmindedly talk to each other about your day, about his campaign, about Seokjin’s album. At one point, you get up to creep over to his side when the smell of whatever he’s making becomes more prominent. You try to peek at the pot, curious, but he just shoos you away by bumping his hip against yours.

When you give him a small pout, you pretend not to notice the way his eyes dart to your mouth. You retract yourself from his personal space, choosing a spot on the other side of your kitchen island, staring at his back as he works.

You watch him expertly navigate your kitchen like he’s been here before. When he’s finished, he makes you sit down, not even letting you help bring the food to the table.

“What is it?” you ask once he’s settled in his seat, everything plated in front of you.

“Kimchi jjigae,” he says, a proud look on his face. “My mom’s recipe.”

It’s endearing, and it makes you smile.

For the most part, Yoongi lets you eat in peace, though there’s still a couple of flirtatious comments here and there. Every time it comes, you bite down on your bottom lip to try and snap out of that daze before you cough, as if that would help tone down the colors adorning your face. There’s no verbal response from you, and it seems like Yoongi doesn’t expect one either, because he just chuckles. You think he must notice the palpable nervousness that radiates off of you, but it’s not like you’re doing a very good job at hiding it.

You’re taking baby steps and he knows it. The fact that you even agreed to this at all is already major progress.

When you’re done eating, he clears the table while he asks you to open the expensive bottle of wine that he brought over. It does wonders for your nerves.

Three glasses in and you’re visibly more relaxed as you both sit on the couch in the living room, facing each other. There’s a small smile on your face that you can’t help, maybe it’s some of your inhibitions wearing off as a side effect of the alcohol. 

You glance around the room, and you take in the sight of Yoongi sitting here, this close to you. He feels bigger than your small world can handle.

“You know,” you start. If the wine didn’t make you more mellow, you probably wouldn’t be saying this. “There are thousands of people thirsting over you every day.”

Yoongi tilts his head, swirling the wine in his glass. “Really?”

“Don’t you look at the internet? I personally know two girls from college who are on the Yoongi Marry Me train,” you say matter-of-factly, like you aren’t borderline tipsy in front of him.

You aren’t an avid Twitter user, but every time you check the damn bird app, Yoongi is almost always trending. In every single one of his posts on social media, there is always an influx of comments asking him to marry them. Not only that, when word first got out about you collaborating with Agust D back then, people you knew - both old friends and acquaintances - practically bombarded your messages to see if it was true, and to ask if you could get them an autograph.

Yoongi stretches out his legs until they brush against yours. Your stomach flips even though it’s only your legs that are barely touching.

“The what train?”

“You seriously don’t know about the Yoongi Marry Me movement? Look it up. It’s a whole thing. People would do anything to, I don’t know, hold your hand or something.”

With an amused look on his face, he holds your gaze. “Would you?”

“What?”

“Would you do all of that just to hold my hand? Because you don’t have to, y’know.” He brings the wine glass to his lips, partially hiding his face from you, and you don’t know whether he’s doing it for your sake or his in preparation for the words he speaks next. “But I would do it to hold yours.”

You’re sure that your cheeks are burning bright, your stomach twisted in knots. It’s the wine, but it’s definitely the effect of his words too. You stare at Yoongi in surprise; no matter how many times he openly flirts with you, he’d still elicit the same reaction from you. It’ll be hard to get used to it. He just always seems to know what to say to make you blush like a schoolgirl, which you resent but you can’t deny the sparks of excitement that make your fingertips tingle.

Yoongi is smooth, and it’s even worse - or is it better? You haven’t decided yet - that you know he means every word he says. It makes you feel… wanted. It’s good to know that he’s being genuine, and to know that Yoongi isn’t the type of person who would ever pull the rug out from under you.

Yoongi is… stable.

You suppose, after everything you’ve been through, that stability is what you need. It’s good for you.

You try to swerve around the thoughts, to avoid them at all costs, but deep down you know now that they’re glaringly true.

That love is stored in two bags of groceries, so filled to the brim that some onions almost fall out. Love is stored in every flick of his wrist holding a knife, slicing the sharp blade across your cutboard. Clean cuts, yet he’s never this way when it comes to you.

Love is stored in a fond smile and adoring eyes when he sees how you cradle your expensive dishware like it’s a newborn baby before you set it carefully on the table.

Love is stored in a Yoongi-shaped silhouette, dancing over your countertops with practiced precision in every movement, filling in the cracks of your home. The love in him is reserved because you, like the moon when it crescents, still have a ways to go.

When he stands at your door an hour later with his coat in hand, you wait for him to speak first.

“Performance review?” he asks. “How did I do?”

“I… liked it. It was nice,” you say honestly. But you still feel the wine in your system, and it makes you bold enough to tease him for a change. “But it was my first date in a while, so it’s hard to tell if that opinion is objective.”

He rolls his eyes fondly. “Do I qualify for a second date then?”

You hum in thought, making him wait on purpose. “Yeah, I guess,” you say, feigning nonchalance, which earns you a hearty laugh.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” he asks, hopeful.

“Don’t know yet,” you answer, though you’ll probably end up going home and catching up on a kdrama. “Are you coming in tomorrow?”

“Just in the morning. I have a shoot in the afternoon.” He shifts to lean his weight on his other leg, tipping his body closer to you. “But I can pick you up after.”

“Yeah? And where would we go?”

Yoongi shrugs in earnest. “Just drive around? Grab a bite?” he thinks out loud, tilting his head slightly to one side for emphasis. “I could take you to that popup store you mentioned.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “You would stand in line with me to buy a novelty mug?”

“Pretty sure we wouldn’t have to stand in line if I gave them a call,” he says, grinning. “One of the perks of the job, y’know.”

“Must be nice,” you laugh, then shift to lean just a tad closer to him. You look at him for a brief moment before you agree, “Yeah, okay.”

You and Yoongi stand there at the door, each of you on either side of the threshold. This would be an appropriate moment for a kiss, you think. That explosive first kiss, if this were a movie. Exhilaration courses through your veins. You feel it from your head to the tips of your fingers to your toes. The feeling is rendering you a mere teenager again. 

It’s exciting because it’s new. You have the entire book ahead of you, waiting to be written. At this point, anything could happen. You’re a blank canvas waiting to be drawn, a blank page hoping to be written. 

Wait.

Back up.

A kiss?

A kiss?!

With Yoongi?

You’re thinking about kissing Yoongi?!

Fuck.

Fuck?!

It’s the wine.

Your thoughts knock against each other like bumper cars, echoing loudly in your brain that it almost gives you a headache.

You stay still as Yoongi leans down, your heart racing while your brain just keyboard-smashes. You can’t tell if you want him to kiss you or not, but when he only presses his lips against your cheek, you feel two emotions at once.

The first is disappointment, the second is relief. They press down on you with almost equal force, and you’re not really sure which one weighs heavier.

Baby steps.

You blink when he pulls away, and he just smiles fondly at you as if he can read your mind.

“Goodnight, princess.”

You watch him until he’s in the elevator, until the doors close and the lift descends. Even when you know that he must be on his way to his car and that someone else is making their way up, you stand there, with your hand loosely wrapped around the door handle, your breathing slightly erratic as you process what just happened. 

Déjà vu? 

It’s oddly reminiscent.

You’ve been here before.

Part of you thinks he’ll burst through the elevator doors, or rush up the stairs if the lift is occupied, and come back to grab your face and kiss you senseless.

He doesn’t.

Jungkook knows you’re probably waiting for Yoongi.

He’s seen Yoongi pick you up after work almost daily over the past couple of weeks, and it’s driving him insane. Even on the days that Yoongi comes to the studio during the day, the guy is all over you, so much so that he doesn’t even bother being a nuisance to Jungkook anymore, which just makes him a thousand times more insufferable.

Something is happening.

He can’t weasel shit out of Jimin anymore because Jimin has been especially tight-lipped after accidentally spilling Yoongi’s confession to you.

Because that should be him in Yoongi’s place. Or should he say his place, and Yoongi is just a placeholder. An imposter.

Because it used to be him that you smiled shyly at.

Jimin’s words have been plaguing his every waking hour since he was forced to hear them. If she wants to choose Yoongi, let her do that too. It feels like he’s rewinding all of your memories, retracing them with cautious fingers only to find that his every footstep is being erased to make room for someone else.

An abandoned dirt road, while you walk down a flower-filled path holding someone else’s hand.

Like you’re stamping him out.

Like he was never there at all.

Not only are you denying him a chance, you’re giving it to someone else. When he tries to move at someone else’s pace, all he gets is left behind.

It’s not about Yoongi; or at least, it’s not just about him. Yoongi doesn’t even really matter to Jungkook in this equation. It’s about what Yoongi represents. An idea of a person that Jungkook can never be.

A bigger life. A stable present and an even brighter future. Yoongi is everything better than him.

And that’s his own problem to deal with, not anyone else’s. At the end of the day, no one has to live with his insecurities but himself.

But still, he can’t help it. Whenever he sees you with Yoongi, his eyes burn. Please don’t let him take my place, he wishes every time, you’re the only good thing about me.

It’s jealousy, sure, of course it’s there. 

But what if you realize what everyone else already knows? That Yoongi is better in every single way. That Yoongi is the person who really deserves you.

What if you start to see Jungkook the way he sees himself?

You hating him - despising him with every cell in your body - is a thousand times better than you deeming him unworthy.

“I talked to Jihyo,” he speaks up suddenly, when it’s only the two of you.

“Okay,” you answer, never taking your eyes off the page in front of you. You must have circled the words daisy a thousand times already, wracking your brain for anything that rhymes. “I don’t know why you’re telling me this, but good for you.”

At this point, you wonder if you should just avoid the studio for the time being. It’s empty here again. You resent Seokjin for drowning in concept photos. You resent Namjoon for leaving Jungkook here to fend for himself, but it’s only fair, because Namjoon was only supposed to give him a helping hand, not take over the whole thing. You even resent Yoongi a bit, for not being here right this second.

“I talked to her,” Jungkook says again, ignoring your sass. “She won’t give you a hard time anymore.”

This makes you look at him. You never asked him to do this. You never asked him to do anything. In fact, you have only ever implored him to sit still and leave things alone.

“She never gave me a hard time,” you say. Sure, you don’t appreciate being given the death glare first thing in the morning, but it’s not something that you can’t ignore. It doesn’t actively affect you, and the only reason Jihyo does it is because of Jungkook.

Because he broke things off with her?

Because he gives you more attention?

Ugh. Attention?

This is the stupidest and most childish thing you have had to think about in ages.

“You said she acts differently toward you.”

“And aren’t you the reason why?” you counter. “Because you two were fucking?”

Jungkook visibly winces at your words, like he did when you mentioned it the first time in the break room. You don’t mean to be snarky; you’re just stating the facts. They were hooking up. 

You don’t harbor any ill will toward any of his past lovers, and that includes Jihyo. You know she doesn’t have anything against you either, at least not on a personal level because you don’t know each other well enough to do so. She’s just someone you pass by every day on your way to the elevator.

“So why did things end?” you ask just for the sake of it, since he was the one who brought it up. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious.

He hesitates for a moment. “She wanted something more and it wasn’t the same for me.”

It’s stupid that the tiny voice in the back of your head resurfaces, hoping that you were the reason why he couldn’t pursue things with another woman.

Jihyo isn’t you, that much is clear. You never asked for anything more from him, not once from start to finish. He was always the first one to pour love into you. It’s arguable which one of you loved the other more - maybe you loved each other equally, just in different ways - but it was a fact that Jungkook always took the initiative. He made the first move so you wouldn’t have to. He gave you the option to match his affection, and never have to worry about being left out to dry.

He took initiative, right until the very end.

You bite your bottom lip, then give him a curt response, “Okay.”

Your phone vibrates with a text from Yoongi but you don’t open it just yet. You look at Jungkook, who only looks back at you. His lips part slightly as he searches for the right words, or any word at all. It’s like you’re asking him to navigate a minefield when all he has to do is be honest. Even if he told you that he fell out of love with you, it wouldn’t be that bad. You would be hurt, yes, but you wouldn’t blame him. You would understand. It would be a reason.

Silence fills the room, save for the continuous tapping of your pen on paper.

He says your name, pleading. “I’m trying here.”

At Jimin’s party, Jungkook said you were someone important to him. You don’t doubt that he meant it, and that’s what infuriates you the most. You’re important, but he keeps running circles around you and making your head spin. You’re important, but everything he’s done makes you think that you’re the opposite. You’re important, just not important enough to get an explanation.

You know he’s genuine about everything he says, but that’s not enough. You can’t sustain yourself on just his words alone.

It’s another cycle of the same conversation, running over and over and over again. He’s reaching out but he’s holding back. You’re still getting nowhere. You don’t know how many times he has to make you ask this, only to not give you any clarity at all.

If there is a trait of Jungkook’s that you both love and hate at the same time, it is that he doesn’t know when to quit.

He texts you every day even when you don’t reply - one for good morning, and one for goodnight. He gets you a chai latte every day, which doesn’t do shit for your concentration because there’s not enough caffeine in it. He gets the door for you whenever you go into the same room together. He hounds your every waking moment. He makes sure that he’s the first thing you see when you wake up, and the last thought that crosses your mind before you go to sleep.

I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.

You suppose this is him, showing up again. In a lot of ways, it’s selfish. But it’s an effort too. Now your phone is full of meaningless messages that remain unread.

You barely glance at him. It’s routine at this point. He tries in ways that you don’t bother acknowledging anymore, because you figured that the best course of action is to let him wear himself out.  When he has had enough of it, when he deems his efforts to be enough to absolve his guilt, he’ll stop. He has to.

But at what point does it stop?

At what point will you stop wanting to give in to him? Your mind rages wars with itself every time you feel his eyes on you, and you have to kill the urge to not turn your head and look at him too. At what point will you stop wanting to go to him and let him in again? At what point will you stop unconsciously making him a priority?

All of this, you supposed, is to say: Do you still love him?

You know that if you sit down and get to the root of it, you’ll find an answer you don’t like. Even in this moment, you want him to tell you just a fraction of the truth, because that would probably be enough to reel you back in.

Your own heart claws at your chest but this is how it has to be for a while. All you can do is take it one day at a time, gently nudge your heart in one direction like a child that needs to be goaded, until he doesn’t live on the forefront of your mind anymore.

Until someone else does.

“No, you’re not.” You stand up then, closing your notebook with more force than necessary. “If you’re really trying, then I wouldn’t still be wondering why I wasn’t enough to make you stay.”

Even then, you’re still hoping that he’d say something else. But when you’re only met with silence, the anticipated disappointment in you bubbles, boiling. His reluctance to clue you in makes it easier for you to decide.

There's someone else who's willing to give you things that you don't even need to ask for.

In your mind, it's clear who you should choose.

Jungkook clenches his teeth, holding his breath as he watches you shove your things into your bag. “Are you going home?” he asks after a minute.

You could say yes and let the conversation die a swift and simple death. But for some reason, you choose to kill it violently. You bite the inside of your cheek before you tell him, “I don’t know. Yoongi’s picking me up.”

The chagrinned look that takes over his features for a split second is one that you immediately catch. Maybe it’s because he wants to make sure you know how he feels about this, or maybe you still have a way of reading him somehow. Regardless of what his face tells you, he doesn’t prod any further.

Your phone vibrates on the table, the sound ten times more thunderous amidst the silence that’s befallen the both of you. You don’t need to check the screen to know who’s calling, and neither does he. When you leave, the sound of your fading footsteps ricochets off the walls. It shoots right through him.

He hears every word of that conversation ringing in his ears then. He recalls that afternoon’s sunset; it was the most beautiful sunset he saw that year, despite the sun overhead mocking him with every magnificent glint of light. He sees the look on your face when his words finally register in your mind, the Oh moment when you understood what he was saying, when the smile you wore sunk helplessly to the floor because even though you knew that love had an expiration date, you hoped your love would be the exception. 

That memory fades, only to be replaced by something much worse. He sits there with Jimin’s words, echoing in his mind, reverberating around the room.

Technically, you and Yoongi haven’t been on a second date. You think.

You’ve seen him almost every night since the dinner, when he picks you up at the studio. Sometimes, you two just drive around. Sometimes, you sit by the river in the cold, eating hot ramen cups and giggling over nothing. Sometimes, he just takes you straight to your home if he has a packed schedule the next day.

These days, you see Yoongi even more than you see Taehyung. Even though he hasn’t explicitly implied that any of these outings is a date, you know you aren’t hanging out as just friends anymore.

It feels good to be wanted. The feeling is reinforced tenfold because it’s been so long that it’s like you’re experiencing it for the first time in a new body, as a different person.

But even after all of that, you two can still go back to being friends like nothing ever happened. Because in a way, maybe nothing did happen. Maybe things have always been like this between you, the only difference is now you’re noticing the meaning behind his words and glances.

You two can still go back, because technically, no line has been crossed.

But tonight, something feels different. It’s colder, but Yoongi keeps you warm with all the looks he’s been giving you all night.

It feels like you’re both toeing that line right now. 

You know that once you cross it, things can’t revert back to the way they were anymore.

You know that it will happen eventually, because Yoongi isn’t doing this just to half-ass it. He won’t back out, and he has made it crystal clear from the start. 

Usually, this is the part where he tells you goodnight and you have to pretend not to freak out when he kisses you on the cheek in goodbye.

He takes a step closer, you take no step back. 

“You know what I’m about to do, right?”

You do. You could say you’re even hopeful.

“I might have an idea…”

“Okay,” he says easily. He takes your waist in his hands and brings you closer. The way the corner of his mouth tugs upward tells you that he’s pleased, that you know what’s about to come and you’re letting it happen. Still, he asks, “Can I?”

You nod. That glowing sensation washes over you in waves.

“Words, princess,” he reminds you. 

Your hands land on the lapel of his coat. “Yes, you can.”

He chuckles, and squeezes you a little tighter. 

Then it happens.

The line you clumsily drew in the sand has been erased.

Yoongi is kissing you.

You’re kissing him back. 

He’s soft and warm and he holds you like you’re delicate. His sincerity, you can feel it in his kiss, and it’s only a fraction of it. Regardless, there is still life that blooms this winter. Inside of you, small and fragile, but it’s there.

You sigh into his mouth, feeling completely limbless if not for him holding your body upright. One of his arms wounds itself tighter around your middle while his other hand tucks your hair behind your ear so he could cup your cheek more easily. Yoongi tilts his head further to one side to deepen the kiss. You feel something in his kiss that you have never heard in his words, something soft and pleading. Wanting but still contained. Out of fear that you might run away, perhaps? You can’t blame him though. You are a bit of a flight risk.

The wind dances past like a nosy bystander, pressing you further into him like it wants you to be more sure in the way you move, in how much of yourself you’re willing to give to him. Instead, the cold just makes you shiver.

When you break away, his hand on your face moves to hold the back of your head. Yoongi doesn’t look half as flushed as you think you do, though his cheeks are slightly rosy.

Through a thin veil of clouds, the moon still shines down on his profile. 

The chill in the air, the mesmerizing view of moonlight dancing across his features, and most of all, the way you’re still lost in the kiss, in the feeling of being wanted.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you up,” he says, after you stay silent for a beat too long, hooded eyes basking in the warmth of a heart chasing your own. You want to want him. You do want him, but there’s still something missing. It doesn’t feel entirely right, but for now, you try not to dwell on it too much. Just let it be. Maybe in time, that void will inevitably fill.

Yoongi holds your hand through the lobby and on the whole way up even if neither of you says anything, just shy glances in the elevator and bashful half-hidden smiles. You don’t invite him in once you get to your door - because an invite now insinuates something that you just aren’t ready for - but he does kiss you again. If the kiss you shared downstairs is a proper goodnight kiss, then this one means see you later and doesn’t last half as long, but it makes you tingle just the same.

He pulls back, only to dive in again, and again, and again, until one chaste kiss turns into five and you have to push him away with a giggle so you can breathe.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, eyes still set on your mouth. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Yoongi,” you say, a little breathily, like oxygen hasn’t sufficiently made its way into your lungs since downstairs.

He rests his forehead against yours. “You’ve never said my name like that before,” he sighs.

“Like what?”

“Like you want me to kiss you again.”

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth and pretend to consider this even though you know you would like to be kissed again. “Maybe I do,” you say after a beat, bravely. “Just one more.”

He gives you your final kiss of the night then, one that lasts a second longer than the others, like he’s trying to memorize how you taste.

You head in once Yoongi is out of sight. You lean your body against the door the second you snap the lock shut. You touch your lips lightly, reliving those moments again even though they happened mere seconds ago. You’re buzzing with excitement like a schoolgirl, every feeling coursing through your body all at once. 

You’re familiar with this. It’s the stage right before every love song you listen to suddenly reminds you of that one person.

You go through your regular evening routine with a pep in your step, thanks to a certain person tonight. You take off your carefully applied makeup and take a nice, hot shower. You think the heat would help melt away the high that you’re riding - like you’ve had too much coffee to drink and now your senses are beyond heightened - but it doesn’t. Once you’re fresh and comfortable in your PJs, you still feel that jittery feeling seeping through your pores, keeping you awake. There’s a message from Yoongi that tells you he has made it home safely.

It’s still early, and you’re far too restless to go to bed. You decided to brew yourself a mug of chamomile tea, even though you don’t even like chamomile and you can’t remember why you even have it, but they say that apparently chamomile is good for sleep. You decide to take the mug into the living room to sort through your mini mountain of mail that should’ve been dealt with days ago.

Sitting underneath that pile of junk mail and letters addressed to the previous tenant even though you’ve lived here for nearly two years, is a cream-colored card addressed to you. The material feels smooth under your fingertips, like velvet if that’s even possible. Inside, there are two names - one you recognize and another you don’t - typed out in a fancy calligraphy font and encircled by pretty flowers, all pinks and whites and romantic.

The saccharine sensation associated with the thought of Yoongi dissipates instantly. Instead, your mind blanks, only to buzz to life again momentarily with a newfound sinking feeling dragging you down.

You suddenly realize that Jungkook hasn’t crossed your mind once tonight. Not until now. That crestfallen look in his eyes from the other night appears in your mind again, clear as day.

You are, quite literally, holding someone’s declaration of love and yet, it’s not joy that you feel, having been asked to join them on their special day. 

You never thought you would see Jungkook’s family again - even though you always adored his parents and you felt that they loved you too - let alone receive an invitation to his brother’s wedding.

remember when y'all said u wanted a wedding?? well u didn't say whose wedding 😌

— all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted march 27, 2023]

[lesbian-octoling]

Hello all, and welcome to the third round of salmonid adopts: Horrorboros edition! Availability, rules, and other information below the cut!

What is an adoptable?

An adopt is a pre-designed character that I create, and you can ‘buy’ to be able be able to use and claim as your own character. Of course, since these are splatoon based I’m not selling the concepts of splatoon, just the idea and design of the character itself.

INFO + RULES:

Once you buy the adopts, they’re yours. You’re welcome to redesign, alter, give away and/or trade as you see fit. The only thing I don’t allow is reselling for a higher price (same or below is fine).

Though these are meant to be splatoon adopts, you’re welcome to use them for any setting that you please! They’re not inherently limited to splatoon; especially the more unique characters.

The placeholder names, personality, and info are just.. placeholder/concepts! You can name them whatever you want, give them any pronouns, personality, lore, whatever! I won’t feel bad lol

Once I receive payment, I’ll send you a full size, transparent, unwatermarked image of your adopt!

I can hold them for up to a week!

If one is on hold, you can still message and ask to be next in line if whatever they’re being held for doesn’t work out.

AVAILABILITY + PRICING:

Base price for each adopt is currently $40 USD (A bit pricier than my usual ones cus I worked really hard on these ones + they're really detailed), however, you can check out some discounts at the bottom!

Also, please keep in mind that my last adopt post had an issue where I could not edit the post after posting it, so if you see this message, PLEASE check the notes to see if any have sold, as this list won't be accurate.

“SCREAMO” - ON HOLD [3/10/23] A horrorboros that decided to put their voice to use instead of filling their mouth with slime. Quit your big run, join my screamo band!

“CAROUSEL” - ON HOLD [3/11/23] After sneaking a peek at Wahoo World, this horrorboros fell in love with the aesthetic of the beasts on the carousel, and became inspired to work on some fashion... in between battles, of course.

“LITTLE PRINCE” - SOLD [Note: this is a 2 for 1, do not separate them <3 ] A cohozuna who's taken it upon themself to raise this silly little... noodle into a proper king salmonid.

“THE TOWER” - SOLD A young teen horrorboros who wants to be a stinger, not a silly booyah bomb thrower!

DISCOUNTS + DEALS

Yeah, we know this is what you’re here for!  I’m going to offer several discounts and deals, which are subject to change, and may or may not pop in and out! This is my first time trying some of this.

COMMISSION BUNDLE If you buy a character from me, you can also get a get a commission of that character for 25% off to come with it! This only applies once, and has to be worked out around the time of purchasing the character. You choose the type of commission you’d like! Commission info is here.

PASSION DISCOUNT If you do a piece of fanwork for one of these characters- come up with extensive lore, a piece of art, a piece of writing, etc- and I can tell you actually put some effort and passion into it, then you can get them for 30% off… making them $28! It doesn’t have to be anything fancy and I’m not going to judge you by how ‘good’ your work is- again, it’s only judged by passion for the character. If I can tell you genuinely enjoyed it and had fun and will love the character you get (instead of having them simply sit on a dusty shelf or resold, etc), you get the discount! If you’re worried about the work taking a while but you want to wait until it’s done to buy them, no worries! I can hold a character for up to a week for you.

BONUS LORE If you wanna shell out an extra $5, I can fully flesh out the placeholder lore for you and come up with something much more fleshed out! Names, backstory, personality, all the bells and whistles. I can also work with you to fit it into any preexisting lore or characters you might want them to be worked with! Once again, you’re welcome to change any of this- but I’ll work with ya on it to make sure it’s something you like!

TRADES I’m a bit iffy on art trades or character trades, but I’m not going to say they’re out of the question. You’re welcome to ask!

[eternalglitch]

Hiya! Just our of curiosity-

I know you have to log into Ao3 with an account to read LFLS now, I promise this isn’t about that. But I’m curious. I saw a previous post of yours that said “if LFLS had taken place over a longer time span just would’ve switched I it/it’s pronouns for green” and I was wondering, since I haven’t kept in touch with your blog (I’m sorry 😭)

have you decided to discontinue writing LFLS? Or do you still have plans to write more chapters in the future? I know you decided to put it on hold a while ago since you needed a break (which is ok, always prioritize yourself and your needs/health) I’m just wondering now if you’ve decided to completely stop writing it, or if you’re still just on a hiatus from it (and again, it’s ok if you are- it’s your life, you’re choice and time I can’t tell you what to do lol)

I wouldn't say that I've made the decision to discontinue it yet, no. There were several factors that led to where we are right now, one of the more important ones an interest in exploring new stories and getting more into ttrpgs after losing general interest in Rise of the TMNT, but Like Father Like Son is still very near and dear to me and I would like to see it finished. All of the story beats exist, after all, I just have to finish writing them.

I was hoping to start writing in general again around this time to ease back into it, but I made... choices and started taking a night time class every week night on independent Hollywood Screenwriting and Directing because why would I make a normal decision on how to spend my evenings. This isn't exhausting and eating up my free time at all (lying).

((I hope to eventually make my own indie cartoon pilot, so. Working on some skillsets and all that jazz.))

But, yeah! I would say you don't need to write lfls off as permanently unfinished just yet. There's still some plot points and moments I really hope everyone will enjoy. I miss the feeling of releasing a chapter out into the world.

In the meantime, I appreciate everyone's patience and maybe even interest in other stuff I may create in the interim!

[adoringsuga]

— ruin our friendship.

⭑ featuring. chigiri hyoma

⭑ content. fem!reader, chigiri gets jelly lol, kissing that gets a little heated so be warned, several isagi mentions (& cameo!) bc i love him, & cursing

⭑ word count. 2.3k

⭑ summary. chigiri hyoma, plain and simple, is your best friend in the whole wide world. your relationship is as uncomplicated as can be; yet, after you ask a presumably innocent question about a friend of his, something comes to light that changes everything...

⭑ notes. omg this is like my first post ever so…hello (≧∀≦)!! this is also like?!??! my first fanfic ever so... lollll... it's honestly so short so i didn't even know what to even write for the summary... anywho! hope u enjoy!! hopefully there will be more to come b/c super obsessed w blue lock rn ngl

“Your hair is so soft,” you murmur mostly to yourself, fingers combing through soft, cherry-red strands, gently untangling any knots you come across with a care reserved solely for the boy currently resting his head in your lap.

Hyoma only hums appreciatively, hyper-focused on the TV in front of you two, sporadically tapping his fingers on your thigh when something of note occurs on the screen. He had turned on some old football game of his when he had invaded your apartment—unannounced, you may add,—around an hour ago. And, before you could utter a single word of complaint about his choice of entertainment, he quickly began haughtily sprouting some bullshit about having to study his old match so he could be aware of what to improve on to better his techniques and what a shame it would be if his team were to lose because someone was to interfere with his review.

Personally, you think he only said that so you wouldn’t change it to this new movie—or, ‘the overly sweet and annoying chick flick’ as Chigiri has lovingly dubbed it—you’ve been dying to watch for weeks now.

Asshole Hyoma, you think a little bitterly, It’s your apartment, you should be able to choose what you can watch or not.

(But, as your eyes flicker to the intense concentration alit on his face, the way he scrutinizes every move, every pass, every shot with an acute focus you find weirdly endearing [and oddly attractive, to your growing horror], you can’t help but think maybe this is fine for now. Maybe.

Maybe football isn’t too bad, you muse, actively ignoring the infinitesimal flush that rises to your cheeks.)

Bored of simply threading your fingers through his strands, you begin to separate his hair into chunks, intertwining the strands once you’ve deemed you’ve parted the hair neatly enough for a loose braid.

You’ve always thought that Hyoma’s hair was inexplicably beautiful, much like the rest of him. Delicate features combined with a lithe yet toned body made him increasingly popular with the female and male demographic of soccer fans (and non-fans as well), especially as his popularity grew and grew with each match he was featured in.

You, simply, admired his beauty for what it was: graceful and elegant, never perceiving him in the lustful light most fans of his had taken to since his debut, (although you would be lying if you said a part of hadn’t slowly begun to see him in a light less than platonic since the start of the year or so).

(These feelings, truthfully, make you want to crawl into a hole and die).

Shaken from your train of thought when a loud cheer erupts from the speakers, your eyes flit up at the TV briefly, blinking in surprise when someone of note catches your eye. You can’t help but gape, fingers stilling from your steadfast braiding as you let out a low whistle, gaze fixed upon the TV.

Even though it makes your heart pang painfully in your chest, you know Hyoma will never see you the way you see him, so, you might as well try and get over him now.

And, without a doubt, you think that the forward on your TV can definitely help with that.

“Whoa,” you mutter, in genuine awe at the gorgeous boy on screen. “Hey, hey, Chigirin,” your words are coupled with a few pokes to his cheek, and he turns his head slightly to look up at you once you’ve finished your ministrations, letting out an inquisitive hum with a raised eyebrow.

“Who’s that?” you question as soon as he peers up at you, pointing at the midnight-haired boy with glimmering deep blue eyes on the TV, eyes gleaming with interest.

“… Why.” Is all he simply says once he sees who it is, voice carefully level and gaze clouded with something you can’t quite place.

“Because he’s cute,” you answer, immediate and truthful, with an almost ariose cadence to your words. You pause for a moment, intently studying the midnight-haired boy, who, at the moment, is currently celebrating a vivacious goal when it all suddenly clicks. “Hey, wait, isn’t that Isagi-san? And aren’t you playing his team next week? Do you think you can get me his number?”

(Embarrassingly, a part you blindly hopes that Hyoma will say say no, so you can overanalyze the meaning behind such an act and further fuel your delusions that Hyoma was definitely into you just as you were to him.

And, hey, who can blame you? Getting over a guy like Hyoma is an agonizing endeavor, so sue you for trying to enjoy your delusions for a bit more before it all comes crashing down and you’re once again stuck in the role of his supportive best friend.

Forced to be something you wished you weren’t. His best friend. Only his best friend.)

Hyoma abruptly sits up from your lap, and you let out a little yelp at the suddenness of it, eyebrows furrowed. His curtain of hair hides his face from your puzzled gaze, and you tilt your head a millimeter to the right, curious.

(The strands of hair you had been braiding loosen at the movement, and eventually unravel unceremoniously after a second passes.

You’re slightly dismayed at the fact.)

Suddenly, a chill runs down your spine, and, for some inane reason, you feel as though you’ve fucked up.

“U-uhm, Chigirin,” you begin awkwardly, suddenly frantic to fill the uneasy, growing hush because truthfully, Hyoma’s unexplainable silence is really starting to weird you out. You’re about to sprout some bullshit about something your statistics professor said the other day, when, all of sudden, you’re on your back, the air knocked out of your lungs and mouth agape in shock.

Pink eyes simply stare down at you, unblinking and almost bored.

“H-Hyoma…?” you manage to stutter out after a long moment, face impossibly red as the boy in question leans over you, the heat of his breath ghosting over your lips. You lay limp, hyper-aware of the fact that even if you did want to move, you wouldn’t be able to as your wrists are being held securely in place by one of Hyoma’s hands. You vaguely wonder if it’s bad that this mere fact gives you butterflies.

(You never use his given name, and Hyoma feels a sick sense of satisfaction curl in his belly at the melodic chime of it.)

You’re warm all over, yet Hyoma seems entirely unphased; even though if he were to only move a mere inch or two, your lips would surely touch.

The thought causes something to thrum in your stomach, makes it tighten in apt anticipation and your breath catch in your throat. I can’t do this, you think, nearly hysteric. It’s all too much, and you turn your face to the side, unable to meet his piercing gaze any longer lest you confess to something you know you’ll regret immediately. Though, with the movement, your gaze somehow catches the TV once more, and there, in all his spectacular glory, is Isagi Yoichi, grinning handsomely with navy blue eyes burning with unabashed determination, calculating and undeniably resolute.

His focused gaze is locked right onto the camera, and his eyes bore intensely into yours as if you’re right there in front of him, as if he could plainly reach out and touch you.

(Oh goodness. Your delusions are growing worse and worse by the day.)

Hyoma growls, seemingly aware of what has currently captured your attention, and purses his lips as though he has just eaten something rotten.

“Don’t look at him.” He demands suddenly, using his thumb and forefinger to gently yet firmly hold your chin, tilting it in a way that ensures your gaze is set on him and only him. “Don’t look at Isagi. Don’t look at anyone else. Look at me.”

“I… what? Hyoma… What do you… ?”

“Can’t you see?” he snaps, almost furious. “I’m in love with you. I have been since I met you. I was fine not saying anything before, but I refuse to lose you to Isagi too.”

Your heart stops. Everything simply stops. Have you been in an accident? And is this simply your unconscious mind attempting to soothe you with what you’ve always dreamed of most? But it can’t be, because you can feel the searing warmth that permeates from his skin, can count every eyelash and every light, scattered freckle, can smell the addicting cologne you mentioned liking to him offhandedly months ago because a guy in your class was wearing it, and so many other things that disproves your accident theory fully.

This is real. This is happening.

Chigiri Hyoma is in love with you?

“You’re in love with me?” you echo in disbelief and rose buds bloom on the crests of Hyoma’s cheeks as he nods adamantly, the hand grasping your chin drifting up to cup your cheek instead.

Somehow, it’s that second, silent confirmation that truly affirms it for you.

Chigiri Hyoma, the perpetual thorn in your side and your best friend in the whole wide world, is in love with you.

Your heart leaps, before it swells. Chigiri Hyoma is in love with you, and he says it as though it is an undeniable fact.

Chigiri Hyoma is in love with you. He’s in love with you.

You feel dizzy at the news, everything fuzzy and muddled except for Hyoma himself, who looks to be growing increasingly nervous and tense with each passing second of silence from yourself.

I should probably say something, you think in a haze.

But, you can’t think of anything that could adequately describe the emotions you’re feeling at the moment, so you simply lift your head and softly graze your lips with his, taking in shocked, pink eyes before crashing your lips together fully. Hyoma makes a small noise of surprise, before melting into it, letting go of your wrists and instead taking your face tenderly with calloused hands, rough against petal-soft skin.

He’s practically on top of you now, but you can’t find it in yourself to care- using your newly freed hands to run your fingers through his hair, to grasp at his face, his waist, and anywhere else you can reach.

It’s not the best kiss, per se- your teeth knock together more than once in a way that causes a dull ache, and mortifying sounds keep escaping your mouth at the most inopportune moments, but God, you don’t think you’ll ever get a kiss like this again.

Regrettably, you pull away after a few more glorious moments, Hyoma chasing after your lips before settling to simply press chaste kisses at the corners of your mouth instead. He trails down after a moment, beginning to nip lightly at the soft skin of your neck, insistent yet gentle as his teeth graze your pulse ever so slightly. You whine at the feeling, almost panting as you weakly push his head away as warmth blossoms under your ribs, settling in your stomach and wisping through your limbs in a hum.

He nips once, twice, before lifting his head, albeit begrudgingly, finally allowing you the chance to suck in a breath of sweet oxygen through parted lips.

As you catch your breath, you hazily gaze up at a red-faced Hyoma, his lips rosy and swollen from pressure and eyes blown and glassy. Embarrassingly, the sight causes your chest to clench with something akin to desire, and you nibble at your kiss-bitten lips in an attempt to keep those feelings at bay, if for the time being.

A beat passes.

“I love you too,” you admit airly as soon as the heat in your cheeks and the rapid beating of your heart calms down to a somewhat manageable level, and Hyoma simply laughs, eyes glimmering with adoration.

“I think I garnered that,” he grins, before capturing your lips once more, cradling your face as though you’re the most important thing to him in the entire world.

(“Hey. Isagi.” Yoichi turns at the call of his name, perking up slightly at the sight of familiar cherry-red hair tied loosely in a bun and long lashes. Putting down the small trinket he had been toying with, he opens his mouth, eager to greet Chigiri back when the other is suddenly right in front of him. Yoichi blinks, grinning openly before Chigiri abruptly takes and wrenches a large chunk of his hair harshly between thin fingers.

“Ow!” he hisses immediately, scalp throbbing hotly and already aching like a motherfucker. He’s surely going to have a headache later, and that realization, alongside the whole, you know, hair-yanking thing, puts a damper on his mood. “What was that for?” he exclaims, incredulous, angrily rubbing at the spot Chigiri had pulled with an ire Yoichi prays he’ll never experience again.

“For my girlfriend,” Chigiri states matter-of-factly, patting Yoichi on the head lightly and demeaningly as though he didn’t just violently violate his poor scalp. He gives no time for the older to respond, already swiftly turning from Yoichi and beginning to walk away, but not before brazenly declaring, “Oh. And we’re beating you too, so be ready for that.”

“Girlfriend? What the hell did I do to your girlfriend?” Yoichi sputters, blatantly ignoring Chigiri’s last statement and decidedly shelving it for a later discussion because what the fuck? What did he do to deserve to have his hair pulled again?

[What is with him and getting his hair pulled, genuinely? Do people just see him and instantly think, ‘Oh yes, he looks like he likes to get his hair pulled’?

For the record, he does not. He really does not, from the bottom of his heart.]

Chigiri simply laughs, the honeyed glow of the sun catching in his hair and making it burn a fiery red, and Isagi can only watch the other boy strolls away, left cluelessly standing with a stinging scalp and widened eyes.

“... Wait. Chigiri-san has a girlfriend?”)