#this movie left me with an uncomfortable aftertaste

[fuckedupsociety155]

Honestly, Barbie didn't really turn out like I expected. I had fun, and I agree with the message, but it left me feeling off at the end. I think I had too high expectations and I was left a bit disapointed, maybe? Idk, it felt off. Regardless of that. I think this thing that has been created around the movie is what has made more of an impact in me than the actual movie. Tons of people everywhere dressing pink and fashionable, and not belittleling girly things but rather hyping it up. The whole Barbenheimer mashup that could have very easily turned into a vs (and a women vs men one at that) but didn't and brought us all closer together. I think even if the movie wasn't what I expected, this event was such a beautiful thing and it brought a bit of that healing or reconciliation with girly things that I talked about in the last post. (I wore a skirt with pockets!!!!!)

Edit: OK, I lied in the tags, I forgot that I deeply resonated with Alan. I too am ignored, dance awkwardly and will fight you. Queer icon that doll. Ok bye.

"If you love Barbie, this movie is for you. If you hate Barbie. This movie is for you."

I think this line is not just about making sure the movie is for everyone, but it is an acknowledgement of all those girls who saw all the prejudice and hate around girlhood and anything girly and decided to find strenght in forcing themselves to hate that stuff too. All those girls that never wore pink and played football and hated dolls and twilight and boy bands and the idea of motherhood (not saying that girls couldn't just be like this, but I'm talking about the ones who felt a pressure to exhibit certain behaviours to avoid being picked on, or to fit in with others as most girly things have always been ridiculed and mocked) And I think this movie might just be calling them back, to say that it's okay, to find some reconciliation with the childhoods that were forced on them and the childhoods that they were forced out of.

Girls didn't choose to have Barbies forced on them and girls didn't choose to be belittle for liking the only things that they were allowed to have. And I think this movie is trying to be for them.

[blackstarising]

coming back to this post i made again to elaborate - especially as the ted lasso fandom is discussing sam/rebecca and fandom racism in general. there are takes that are important to make that i had failed to previously, but there's also a growing amount of takes that i have to, As A Black Person™, respectfully disagree with.

tl;dr for the essay below sam being infantilized and the sam/rebecca relationship are not the same issue and discussing the former one doesn't mean excusing the latter. and we've reached the glen of the Dark Forest where we sit down and talk about fandom racism.

i should have elaborated this in my last post about sam/rebecca, but i didn't. i'll say it now - i personally don't support sam and rebecca getting together for real. i believe what people are saying is entirely correct, even though sam is an adult legally, he and rebecca are, at the very least, two wildly different stages of life. for americans, he's at the equivalent of being a junior in college. there are things he hasn't gotten the chance to experience and there are areas he needs to grow in. when i was younger, i didn't understand the significance of these age gaps, i just thought it would be fine if it was legal, but as someone who is now a little older than sam in universe, i understand fully. we can't downplay this. whether or not you think sam works for rebecca or not, even despite the gender inversion of the Older Man Younger Woman trope, whether or not he is a legal adult, i don't think at this point in time, their relationship would work. i think it's an interesting narrative device, but i don't want to see it play out in reality.

that being said!

what's worrying me is that two discussions are being conflated here that shouldn't be. sam having agency and being a little more grown™ than he's perceived to be does not suddenly make his relationship with rebecca justified. i had decided to bring it up because sam was being brought into the spotlight again and i was starting to realizing that his infantilization was more common than i felt comfortable with.

sam's infantilization (and i will continue to call it that), is a microaggression. it's is in the range of microaggressions that i would categorize as 'fandom overcompensation'. we have a prominent character of color that exhibits traits that aren't stereotypical, and we don't want to appear racist or stereotypical, so we lean hard in the other direction. they're not aggressive, they're a Sweet Baby, they're not world weary, they're now a little naive. they're not cold and distant, they're so nice and sweet that there's no one that wouldn't want approach them, and yeah, on their face, these new traits are a departure and, on their face, they seem they look really good.

but at a certain point, it reaches an inflection point, and, like the aftertaste of a diet coke, that alleged sweetness veers into something a lot less sweet. it veers into a lack of agency for the character. it veers into an innocence that appears to indicate that the person can't even take care of themselves. it veers into a one-dimensional characterization that doesn't allow for any depth or negative emotion.

it's not kind anymore. it's not a nice departure from negative stereotypes. it's not compensating for anything.

it's patronizing.

it is important that we emphasize that characters of color are more than the toxic stereotypes we lay on them, yes, but we make a mistake in thinking that the solution is overcorrection. for one thing, people of color can usually tell. don't get it twisted, it's actually pretty obvious. for another, it just shifts from one dimension to another. people of color are still supposed to be Only One Character Trait while white people can contain multitudes. ted, who is pretty much as pollyanna as they come, can be at once innocent and naive and deep and troubled and funny and scared. jamie can be a prick and sexy and also lonely and also a victim of abuse. sam, however, even though he was bullied (by jamie, no less), is thousands of miles away from home, and has led a protest on his team, is usually just characterized as human sunshine with much less acknowledgement of any other traits beyond that.

and that's why i cringe when fandom calls sam a Sweet Baby Boy without any sense of irony. is that all we're taking away? after all this time? even for a comedy, sam has received a substantive of screen time over two whole seasons, and we've seen a range of emotions from him. so as a black person it's hurtful that it's boiled down to Sweet Baby Boy.

that's the problem. we need to subvert stereotypes, but more importantly, we need to understand that people of color are not props, or pieces of cardboard for their white counterparts. they are full and actualized and have agency in their own right and they can have other emotions than Angry and Mean or Sweet and Bubbly without any nuance between the two. i think the show actually does a relatively good job of giving sam depth (relatively, always room for improvement, mind you), especially holding it in tension with his youth, but the fandom, i worry, does not.

it's the same reason why finn from star wars started out as the next male protagonist in the sequel trilogy but by the third movie was just running around yelling for REY!! it's the same reason why when people make Phase 4 Is the Phase For Therapy gifsets for the mcu and show wanda maximoff, loki, and bucky barnes crying and being sad but purposefully exclude sam wilson who had an entire show to tell us how difficult his life is, because people find out if pee oh sees are also complex, they'll tell the church.

and the reason why i picked up on this very early on is because i am an organic, certified fresh, 100% homegrown, non-gmo, a little ashy, indigenous sub saharan African black person. the ghanaian tribes i'm descended from have told me so, my black ass parents have told me so, and the nurses at the hospital in [insert asian country here] that started freaking out about how curly my hair was as my mother was mid pushing me out told me so!

and this stuff has real life implications. listen: being patronized as a black person sucks. do you know how many times i was patted on the back for doing quite honestly, the bare minimum in school? do you know how many times i was told how 'well spoken' or 'eloquent' i was because i just happen to have a white accent or use three syllable words? do you know how many times i've been cooed over by white women who couldn't get over how sweet i was just because i wasn't confrontational or rude like they wrongly expected me to be?

that's why they're called microaggressions. it's not a cross on your lawn or having the n-word spat in your face, but it cuts you down little by little until you're completely drained.

so that's the nuance. that's the subversion. the overcompensation is not a good thing. and people of color (and i suspect, even white people) have picked up on, in general, the different ways fandom treats sam and dani and even nate. what all of these discussions are converging on is fandom racism, which is not the diet form of racism, but another place for racism to reveal itself. and yeah, it's uncomfortable. it can seem out of left field. you may want to defend yourself. you may want to explain it away. but let me tap the sign on the proverbial bus:

if you are a white person, or a person of color who is not part of that racial group, even, you do not get to decide what is not racist for someone. full stop. there are no exceptions. there is no exit clause for you. there is no 'but, actually-'. that right wasn't even yours to cede or waive.

(it's also important to note that people of color also have the right to disagree on whether something is racist, but that doesn't necessarily negate the racism - it just means there's more to discuss and they can still leave with different interpretations)

people don't just whip out accusations of racism like a blue eyes white dragon in a yu-gi-oh duel. it's not fun for us. it's not something we like to do to muzzle people we don't want to engage with. and we're not concerned with making someone feel bad or ashamed. we're exposing something painful that we have to live with and, even worse, process literally everything we experience through. we can't turn it off. we can't be 'less sensitive' or 'less nitpicky'. we are literally the primary resources, we are the proverbial wikipedia articles with 3,000 sources when it comes to racism. who else would know more than us?

what 2020 has shown us very clearly is that racism is systemic. it's not always a bunch of Evil White Men rubbing their hands together in a dark room wondering how they're going to use the 'n-word' today. it's systemic. it's the way you call that one neighborhood 'sketchy'. it's how you use 'ratchet' and 'ghetto' when describing something bad. it's how you implicitly the assume the intelligence of your friend of color. it's the way you turned up your nose and your friend's food and bullied them for it in middle school but go to restaurants run by white people who have 'uplifted' it with inauthentic ingredients. it's telling someone how Well Spoken and Eloquent they are even though you've both gone to the same schools and work at the same workplace. it's the way you look down at some people of color for having a different body type than you because they've been redlined to neighborhoods where certain foods and resources are inaccessible, and yet mock up the racial features that appeal to you either through makeup or plastic surgery.

it's how when a person of color behaves badly, they're irredeemable, but a white person performing the same act or something similar is 'having a bad day' or 'isn't normally like this' or 'has room to grow' and we can't 'wait for their redemption arc', and yes, i'm not going to cover it in detail in this post but yes this is very much about nate. other people have also brought up the nuances in his arc and compared them to other white characters so i won't do it here.

these behaviors and reactions aren't planned. they aren't orchestrated. they're quite literally unconscious because they've been lovingly baked into western society for centuries. you can't wake up and be rid of it. whether you intended it or not, it can still be racist.

and it's actually quite hurtful and unfair to imply that concerns about racism in the TL fandom are unfounded or lacking any depth or simply meant to be sensational because you simply don't agree with it. i wish it was different, but it doesn't work that way. i'm not raising this up to 'call out' or shame people, but i'm adding to this discussion because, through how we talk about sam, and even dani and nate, i'm yet again seeing a pattern that has shortchanged people of color and made them feel unwelcome in fandom for far too long.

coach beard said it best: we need to do better.

[rextasywrites]

Grab a bite (Lady Dimitrescu x f!Reader)

Hello! This is my first smut fic here on Tumblr. Please enjoy, I tried my very best <3 mostly smut with a hint of plot, maybe i can expand this idea??? have fun!

Warning: period blood kink! smut! don’t like don’t read please!

Find this fic on AO3

 The days in the castle hadn’t been pleasant to you...to say it in a mild way. The three vampire chicks had thrown you into the basement, up to rot along your mates. The first one to go was Mike. He had suffered from a cold before you headed into the mysterious village, and his cold soon turned into pneumonia. There wasn’t anything you could do for him apart from making sure he was as comfortable as he could be.

 The next one to go was Jasmin. In the cells you three (and a corpse) shared were quite a few rusty nails and she had the misfortune of stepping on one. Sepsis took her in less than 24 hours.

 Just a few hours ago, it was James who perished. The food given to you by the vampires was barely edible.. for humans. While you suffered from stomach aches quite a lot, James had a bigger problem. His food allergies were through the roof, and a simple dish with some nuts in it was his last meal on death row. You tried to make a tracheotomy, you really did.

 The vampires kept you in the cage for just a little bit longer. The bodies were taken away by them, but you had no chance of escaping. As you laid on the uncomfortable bed that kind of resembled a murphy bed, your mind went to everything you had left behind. Your family, your friends. All of this for a stupid job and “exploring Romania”. Fuck this shit. Were they looking for you? Were they missing you?

 Your stomach churned at all the anxieties creeping up your throat, making you choke back whatever was trying to come back up. But that wasn’t the only weird feeling in your stomach. While you didn’t know how long you had actually been in this hellhole, you knew your birth control ran out several days ago, and now your body was keen on getting its hormone household back into place.

 As if your uterus called her, one of the vampire ladies stood in front of the cell you were locked in, licking over her lips. You couldn’t tell if the darkness of her lips was from lipstick or the fact that she was a half dead monster. “Lady Dimitrescu awaits you.”, the lady said and unlocked the cage. When you first stood up, you had to press your hand against your stomach, feeling how the cramps were slowly getting worse inside of you. The lady just watched with raised eyebrows - do vampires even get periods?

 She led you through the impressive castle, and you wondered when someone cleaned in here for the last time, spiderwebs and dust were settled on nearly every surface. But boy, if it wasn’t impressive. Bigger than anything you had ever seen in your life. This sentence also was fitting for Lady Dimitrescu, who was sitting on her luxurious bed, covers of satin under her impressive...body.

 “My dear, I knew you would make it alive out of there!”, she gave you her biggest smile, and when she stood up...Jesus, she was taller than anyone you had ever seen, easily reaching 2,5 meters. Absolutely supernatural. But the thing which caught your eyes the most were her huge breasts. They were right at eye height for you, and being killed by massive tits seemed like the most pleasant death in this place. Well, at least better than dying because of a rusty nail.

 Lady Dimitrescu cupped your cheeks, feeling how the past few days had made you visibly lose weight already. “Oh my...if you want to survive the ritual, we have to nourish you. Daniela, please, get us some of the wine. I wouldn’t want my daughter to starve, would I?”

 Daniela came back with a bottle of the wine Lady Dimitrescu mentioned, pouring it into two glasses before handing you one, the other one to her...mentor? Mother? You didn’t know. Lady Dimitrescu made your two glasses click together and took a sip off the exclusive fluid, smiling as it made its way to her stomach. The taste wasn’t unpleasant, not at all. A strong taste of dry wine, but the aftertaste was slightly metallic. “You know you are allowed to speak with me.”, Lady Dimitrescu said as she put her glass on the nightstand, which had looked hilariously small in her hands. “You are part of the family now, dear. There is nothing to hide.”

 “Why me?”, was everything you managed out. Daniela had left the room by now, but that didn’t help to lessen your anxiety.

 Lady Dimitrescu chuckled and took your hand into hers, giving you the gentlest smile a vampire demon whatever the fuck she was could give. “Because you are special. The first moment my daughters spotted you in the village, I knew you’d come here. I knew you’d make it out of there alive. And now, I will prepare you for the ritual.”

 “What kind of ritual?”, the questions were clouding your mind. The last ritual you heard of was from Midsommar, and you had no interest in being burnt alive! As your hands started to shake, Lady Dimitrescu tightened her grip on them.

 “I will make you one of us. But first, you have to show me you can handle this life. That you can handle…”, she got closer to your ear as she whispered into it, “my needs.” Her needs?

 Lady Dimitrescu took the glass from your hands, putting it next to hers. Once her hands were free she placed them on your shoulders, pushing you down into the satin covers of her bed, and once you hit the sheets, your eyes felt so heavy. “Don’t fall asleep little dove!”, Lady Dimitrescu shooed, tapping her long fingers against your skin.

 “We would have started this sooner, but sadly”, Lady Dimitrescu gestured to your pants, “you have used this pill which stopped your period. And I need a good taste of you before we can continue.” What? A good taste?

 “I thought vampires drink blood!”, you bursted out, cupping your mouth once your brain realized what you just said.

 Lady Dimitrescu laughed loudly, giving your thigh a little pat. “Oh, we do, little dove. But I need to taste your innocence.” Your innocence… Her words flew around your brain while her fingers touched your bare skin from the holes in your pants. The bucket of water and the washing cloth might have helped you with feeling filthy, but it didn’t help with any ripped clothes. “It won’t hurt, I promise you. And once you have passed this test, you will be one of us in no time.”

 “...Okay?”

 “Good to hear that you agree with me, little dove!”, Lady Dimitrescu smiled, and her next move shook you to the bone. Out of the fingers of her right hand came claws, something straight out of a Wolverine movie! You froze in shock as she came closer, but instead of hurting you, all she did was slowly ripping the fabric of your clothes - or better said, what was left of them. She hummed at the sight under her, while your face became hotter and hotter. “Do not worry, dove. You will get new costumes when I am done with you. We will burn this trash you called clothes. Cheap trash.”

 Soon you were left in your undergarments, Lady Dimitrescu eyeing you up and down as if you were a piece of meat, ready for the predator to rip into its prey. And it wasn’t that wrong of a thought. In the end, you were at her mercy, but slowly her soft touch made you feel warm on the inside, spreading from your stomach, reaching all the way to your fingers and toes, a warmth you hadn’t felt in days. Was it the wine? Or was it something else?

 Lady Dimitrescu smelt old. But not an unpleasant old smelt, not this smell from nursing homes, where the rotten flesh melted into the seats of the wheelchairs. The smell of old books and knowledge, aged like the fine wine she had just given you.

 As your mind was clouded, Lady Dimitrescu continued to undress you. Your period had started by now, and a single drop of your blood fell on the satin covers under your ass. She chuckled, dipping her finger into the blood, licking it clean. “Have you ever laid with a man before, my dove?”, Lady Dimitrescu asked, to which you were ripped out of your thoughts, your reply a simple nod. You didn’t trust your voice anymore. “That’s good. You are pure. You are innocent. Just perfect for my daughters and me. Oh little dove, we are going to have so much fun together!”, Lady Dimitrescu laughed as she clapped her hands together, giving you her widest smile - and for a moment you could spot her fangs. What a weird turn on all of this was.

 Once her finger was clean, a hunger formed inside of her. Your blood...it tasted so good, so fresh, so healthy. Unlike anything she had eaten in the past 500 years - and she fucking wanted more. “Come here, little dove. Spread your legs for the Lady.”, she said as she grabbed hold of your hips, pulling your middle closer. The claws on her right hand had gone back into her skin, and at this point, you didn’t even want to ask why. At this point, all you needed was her.

 Lady Dimitrescu settled between your legs, “Let’s make this a pleasant experience for the both of us, shall we?”, she smiled as she pulled down her dress, exposing her big breasts. “I noticed your stares.”, and by the gods, they were everything you ever wanted and needed. Big, her dress had held them up, it must have been painful to her. They were saggy, but who didn’t appreciate a great pair of tits? You reached upward, your fingers sinking into the soft flesh as she chuckled. Lady Dimitrescu placed her hand on yours, letting you feel her up as you desired.

 “Come on, little dove”, she smiled after some groping from your side. She couldn’t deny, your eager massages on her breasts had left her wet and ready, but she had to prepare you. Maybe once she managed to spill a sweet orgasm from your lips, maybe then she would engage in some self centered pleasure. But right now, you were her main focus.

 Her fingers dipped a finger between your folds, scooping up your wetness mixed with blood. Lady Dimitrescu hummed in delight as she sucked her fingers clean, happiness clearly evident as she savoured the taste on her tongue. “You want to try it too?”, you shook your head in response, to which she laughed, “Oh, you will appreciate blood soon enough, little dove!”

 You couldn’t gasp when Lady Dimitrescu grabbed your hips, pulling you up against her mouth. With your legs wrapped around her shoulders, she had your pussy right in her face, taking in the sweet smell of your arousal and the metallic undertone of blood. Just how she liked it. Just how she imagined it. “Oh, having to wait for you for so many days was terrible, little dove. But now, you are mine.”, she whispered as she dove her head between your thighs, taking in more and more of you. The moment her tongue hit your folds, a loud gasp escaped your throat, surely the vampires outside of the room would hear you. Lady Dimitrescu just chuckled against your wetness, flicking her tongue over your clit as the sweet taste of your wetness spread all across her mouth.

 Her tongue was in the same proportion as her body, longer and thicker than anything you had ever seen before - or felt before. She slurped up whatever fluid she could reach, humming in delight whenever blood found its way into her mouth. The blood of a healthy and innocent virgin had been her favourite kind for so long, so hard to come by and the resulting fullness lasting for even longer. Maybe she wouldn’t turn you and keep you as her little to-go human. But where would be the fun in that?

 As much as you wished she’d use her fingers too, it was like Lady Dimitrescu was reading your mind. “No penetration for you, little dove. You need to stay pure, untouched.”, but eating your pussy out was fine? Well, you had to play by her rules, not yours. You relaxed further in her grip as Lady Dimitrescu refreshed herself on you, feeling hundreds of years younger.

 Your orgasm came crashing down on you, unexpected but with a force you had never felt before. While you groaned and trashed under Lady Dimitrescu’s grip, she kept her lips on your pussy, taking in all the juices she could get her mouth on, the hint of blood making her moan in delight.

 The next thing you know is that the pain in your abdomen had stopped and Lady Dimitrescu had put clothes on your. You rubbed your eyes, blinking as you made sense of what had happened while you were out. The clothes on your body were dark and silky, just like the dress of Daniela before. The hunger inside of you was burning your stomach down, but it wasn’t just a simple hunger.

 You were lusting for blood. Well, time to find Lady Dimitrescu and tell her about the little changes in your body...

[cafedanslanuit]

summary: a long time friendship with nishinoya turned into a friends with benefits relationship a few months ago. both of you had your reasons for it to remain that way, but an unexpected situation may make both of you reconsider your agreement.

pairing: nishinoya x reader

warnings: references to sex, drinking and emergency contraception. not described. this is pretty sfw apart from that.

words: 1.9k

notes: i got inspired by two really good songs! ‘like a friend’ and ‘something changed’ by pulp <3 check them out i really like them~

‘Pizza is the best way to celebrate this’, you had said after opening the door to him, a big smile on your face. He had entered your apartment with a laugh as if he had been able to sleep the night before.

He knew it wasn’t something they could have prevented. In fact, it was because they wanted to think ahead that they got into that mess in the first place. He could still remember the panic that made his whole body shiver when, as he was about to discard the used condom, he noticed a big tear on it. He stayed petrified long enough for you to ask him if there was anything wrong, and even when the storm had passed, Nishinoya still didn’t know how he ended up explaining it to you. He did remember both of you frantically dressing up in horror and then running to your car to go to the nearest drugstore.

He thought that would be the end of it. You swallowed the pill with a bottle of juice he bought for you and assured him there was nothing to worry about. That the chance of getting pregnant after taking that pill was close to zero, so he could breathe again. And he did. He was researching for a new place to travel when you had called him up, asking if he could bring you some food and a couple of painkillers. Scared, he did as told and quickly headed to your dorm room.

He found you curled on a ball, lights off and a small frown on your face. Looking at his worried face, you tried to explain it was a side effect to the Plan B pill and that you should feel better the next day, but your head hurt too much to go to the drugstore yourself. He was horrified when he learnt there were side effects, even more surprised when you told him your boobs were also hurting a lot.

Having heard enough, Nishinoya decided to stay the night. He put on a movie on your laptop, dimmed the brightness of the screen and lowered the volume on it so it wouldn’t be too uncomfortable. After eating something and taking the medicine he had brought, you were able to finally fall asleep with your head on his chest and your legs tangled with his.

That had been almost a month ago. Now, you were sitting on your bed, sharing a pizza with him. You had called him earlier to inform him you had gotten your period and now the nightmare was really over. Before he could say anything else, you had asked him over to eat something, as a small celebration for not ‘fucking it up’.

"You're gonna eat that?" you asked, pointing to the last slice. Nishinoya snapped back from his thoughts and smirked at you.

"If I take it, you're going bite my hand off, so no."

"Hey! Don't be mean, I could have been the mother of your children," you teased, grabbing the slice and biting down on it. You chewed with a happy hum and took your phone to look at the notifications, not noticing your joke had made your best friend’s smile fade almost instantly.

Nishinoya stayed in silence for a moment, his eyes fixed on the empty box between you. His face was contorted in a stern expression, eyebrows knit together and his mouth a fine line.

"Would that have been so bad?"

You snapped your eyes back to him, taken aback by his words. Munching the food in your mouth, you kept waiting for a punchline that never came. You suddenly noticed Nishinoya's face was too serious for it to be a joke. Swallowing, you put the rest of the slice back on the box.

"... What?"

"I'm asking if having a kid together would have been so bad," he said. You took a napkin and cleaned your hands, rubbing them together a little harder than usual.

"Uh-- yes? You're leaving on another trip by the end of the month and I'm focused on uni. Of course it would have been bad," you explained with a small shrug.

"No, no. That's not what I'm asking," he retorted.

"You asked exactly that."

"No! Listen-- I'm asking if it would have been so bad if we... I don't know," Noya scratched the back of his head. "If we ended up together."

You blinked, confused. "What are you talking about?" you whispered. Your eyes darted to the side, trying to understand what your best friend was saying. No. There wasn't a chance he-- No. You shook your head. "You said you didn't want to have a girlfriend right now," you reminded him. "You said you wanted to travel and that's great! You said--"

"I know what I said," he interrupted you, impatiently. He stood up and started pacing around his room, thousand of thoughts swarming around his mind, his right hand now scratching the base of his neck. The aftertaste of your meal felt like poison in your mouth. Your heart was breaking at seeing him so conflicted, wishing there was something you could do or say to alleviate him.

"Yuu," you muttered, trying to calm him down. “Yuu, come back to bed."

"It's just... I don't know," he sighed and stopped in his tracks. He turned his body to you and you realized how vulnerable he looked. His lost eyes immediately took you back to the night your friendship had changed.

Around six months ago, you had been invited by your uni friends to a party near your apartment. Since you had heard it was supposed to be one of the best parties of the semester, you had asked to bring a friend, which they agreed to. Not thinking it twice, you had asked Nishinoya. Even if he had refused at first since he had to leave for another one of his trips the next day, you had convinced him to accompany you. Which ended up being a good decision, since he offered to walk you home and make sure you got safe.

To that day, you could almost remember the yelp he made against your mouth when you kissed him, his lips not moving for the longest time. After a couple of seconds you had pulled away and asked if he was okay. His face was flushed red, his usual hyper persona long gone, his eyes fixed on yours, looking lost and shocked to his core.

“Sorry, sorry, it was a bad impulse,” you had apologized, the rejection stinging a little harder than you had imagined.

“Areyoudrunk?” he had asked. You shook your head.

“You saw the two beers I had. I mean, they did give me some liquid courage but I’m not really--”

Your words were cut off by your best friend crashing his lips against yours. Never breaking the kiss, you had blindly walked back to your bedroom, laughing when his knees hit the edge of your bed and you ended up falling on top of him.

Nishinoya left to catch his plane before you woke up, not without leaving a note on the small whiteboard on your wall: ‘sorry!!!!!! had to catch my plane :( pls dont think i ran away. text me when u see this!!   -noya’.

What you expected to be an awkward exchange, ended up being a comfortable talk between two longtime friends. You confessed you found the other one attractive but were also aware exploring a possible romantic route would be near to impossible. Nishinoya’s constant travelling and the fact he was away many months a year plus your dedication to your uni classes made a bad combination to even try anything. You came to the conclusion it was only a one time thing and that you shouldn’t think too much into it.

Never the less, as soon as he was back from his trip, you found yourself tangled on his sheets once more. Since you were still in the same situation you had been when it first happened, you agreed on it being just a way to release stress and to not let it, under any circumstances, ruin your friendship.

Just what you felt was happening in that exact moment as he looked back at you, hands in his pockets and his eyes filled with a mixture of worry and frustration.

“Yuu, come here,” you insisted, patting the spot on the bed he had been sitting on. He nodded and you set the pizza box aside as he sat in front of you. You took a deep breath and took his hand in his. “What’s going on?

“These past few months have been the happiest I’ve ever felt,” he sighed.

“Because of the sex?”

"No, no, c'mon!" he whined in frustration. He let go of the hold you had in his hand to take both of yours, pulling you a bit closed to him. His eyebrows were furrowed in determination, a look you hadn’t seen in since your highschool days. "Listen to me, okay? Listen. Yes, the sex is great. I love it, you're a goddess and the way you look when-- wait, no. No," he pressed his lids together and slapped his forehead. You couldn't supress a small giggle at his actions. "Okay. Okay. But it's not the sex. It's you. It's the late phone calls, the way you honestly laugh at my jokes and always know what to do or say when I need extra encouragement. It's the way you believe in me and the way you hug me every time I get home. I-- You make me want to--" he stuttered, the words tumbling against each other due to the high speed he was talking in. "Wherever I go -and I mean anywhere, yes, anywhere-, I think about you. And I know it wasn't the plan, you didn't want to get into another relationship-- I know all of that, I do. And I know I don't have what your exes had, I don't even go to college or have a degree but I--"

Once more, you heard him yelp when your lips crashed his. Only this time, he didn’t waste time before kissing you back. You felt him smile as he put his hands on both sides of your face and moved his lips against yours. Chuckling, you pushed him on the bed to continue, the kiss lasting a couple more minutes before dissolving into a fit of giggles from both of you.

You pushed yourself up a bit to look at his face, a huge grin plastered on his face. He looked adorable and you felt yourself flowing with the emotions you hadn’t let yourself feel for the last months. He was your best friend, had been for so many years, and a part of you wished you had seen him in a different light before. You weren’t sure when your feelings had changed, but you did know there was no turning back now. Smiling back at him, you pressed a loving kiss on his lips before pulling away once more.

Just when you were about to say something, you noticed part of the pizza box peeking under his head.

“Oh no,” you whispered, pulling him to sit up. When both of you saw the slice you had left earlier sticking to the back of his t-shirt, you couldn’t help but break in loud laughter. Your eyes quickly filled with happy tears as Nishinoya grabbed his belly, both of your bodies shaking as you couldn’t stop laughing. Of course only both of you would have turned a confession into a comedic scenario. Even so, as you helped him remove the food from his t-shirt, you couldn’t help thinking you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[gingrrfrog]

this must be my dream

a second part :D because loved the last Johnny request I made so much 🥺

you can find the first part....here! 

also...this is smut because .... im johnny’s wh*re 

You shoved Johnny onto your bed, lips reconnecting as you hovered over him, moaning into his mouth as he ripped off your skirt and flipped you onto his back. You grinned down at him when he moaned at the lack of underwear, wasting no time to connect his lips to your throbbing center, sucking happily on your clit before pulled away to bite kisses onto your thighs. 

“I know this is kind of late but is this okay?” He asked timidly, his strong arms resting on either side of your head as he watched you fiery eyes. You nodded eagerly, sighing when his lips reached for your neck. 

“I want you,” you moaned, your hands scratching down his back. 

“I want you,” Johnny smiled, reaching into his underwear. 

“Fuck, Johnny—“

You jolted awake at the sound of your alarm, gasping as you sat up in your room, the empty room greeting you as you pushed sweaty hair away from your face. You touched your cheeks, shaking your head in embarrassment as they burned at your palms, shoving the blankets off as you made towards your bathroom to shower. 

You and Johnny had managed to get along more than you had expected, resulting in an unprecedented friendship. You tried to keep your face as stern as usual, but it was hard when you made eye contact with the other man across the room, who would stick out his tongue or gag whenever your boss spoke, making you stifle a giggle into your coffee cup. 

The two of you agreed to carpool, one week being you and the other being his, opting to spend more time with each other to prepare for whatever hell your boss would only subject to you and not your work friend.

Johnny was kind hearted, gentle despite his size and build, and thoughtful. He listened to your concerns with genuine interest as he would try to make you feel better earnestly by taking you out to a bar to drink away issues or to just sit in a car and eat ice cream. He was a good friend, only making you feel guilty that you were so quick to judge him before. 

However, you never saw him as anything other than just a friend, so your dream from this morning comes to a shock to you, feeling a bit uncomfortable as you try to shake the thought from your head. You’d be stupid to say that Johnny wasn’t attractive, because that wasn’t the case at all. In fact, Johnny was…incredibly attractive. He was tall, but muscular. His proportions were perfect, broad shoulders to long legs, as he looked perfect in his work suit and in casual wear when you hung out during the weekend. But to find…Johnny…sexually…

“Oh God, gross,” you deflect, shuddering while you dried your hair. 

You pull on your clothes quickly, running around your apartment to gather your bag and your necessities for the day as you grabbed your keys. It was your week to carpool this time around, but seeing that today was Friday, Johnny’s week would be this upcoming Monday. 

You sat in your car and texted Johnny that you were on your way, turning the ignition to start and pulling out of the parking garage, driving the now familiar route to his apartment as you parked in front of his building. 

He was already waiting at the front entrance, a wide smile on his face as he carried a cup of coffee, opening the car door with his free hand before dropping inside. 

“Good morning!” He greeted cheerily, handing you his cup, “here, try this.”

“What…is it?”

“Coffee, weirdo.” Johnny smiled, watching you take a sip from the cup and frowning when a strange aftertaste hit your tongue. 

“Johnny…is this Irish cream?”

“Surprise!’

“Are you trying to kill me?” You gagged, shoving the cup back into his hands. 

“There’s nothing wrong with a little day drinking,” He defended, taking a sip out of the discarded cup. “It’s Friday.”

“It’s fucking 10 am.”

“On a Friday.” 

You roll your eyes and put your attention to driving, chatting with Johnny about the night before. He told you nothing eventful happen after you both left work last night, and that he contemplated adopting a dog when he got home. He didn’t get very far, apparently, as he remembered the pet fee in his building. 

You really didn’t pay much attention to him, your mind wandering as you gave out supportive oh’s and really? At stoplights, you would watch his hands and how they flexed on his thighs, veins apparent as he fisted and relaxed them every time he was trying to make a point. 

You wonder how they would feel around your throat. 

“Oh fuck—“ You blinked, snapping out of your reverie when you heard a car honk at you for staying still at a green light. Johnny laughed at you and wondered why your head was in the clouds today as you blamed it on the rainy weather. 

“Do you still want to go out to the bars tonight?” He asked innocently, gauging your response as your nodded. 

“Sure. Right after work or…?”

“We can go home to freshen up if you want. Get rid of your old lady outfit.”

You pouted, looking down at your outfit, “you think I look like an old lady?”

“Maybe…not an old lady. Maybe an angry, hot librarian.”

You snort, side glancing at the man sat next to you, “you think I’m hot?”

Johnny cleared his throat before placing his coffee in the cup holder. Perhaps the alcohol in the Irish creme was incriminating him, “I’m not blind.”

Before either of you could dwell on it any longer, you arrived at the parking garage at the company, stepping outside the muggy air as you walked together towards the entrance. Of course, due to Johnny’s popularity, he was often pulled to the side to talk about weekend plans. The secretaries at the front desk made sure to pull him over to talk about a party they were having and that they were inviting him, only for Johnny to pull you by your shoulder and ask if you were invited too. 

You stared at your feet, trying to pull away from the man’s hold only to have him pull you closer. The secretaries had no choice but to invite you, awkwardly laughing and hoping for Johnny to come, even though you both knew that you had plans for that weekend. 

Following into the elevator, you had the rare chance of sharing it alone to yourselves, watching the numbers increase. 

“Why did you ask them to invite me?” You asked in a small voice. 

Johnny blinked, tilting his head, “why wouldn’t I? I want you to come.”

“I thought we were going to see a movie that same night?”

The other man brightened, a smile on his face, “oh yeah! I forgot! Never mind, I’ll just tell them we’re not going.”

You wanted to tell Johnny that he could always reschedule the movie if he wanted. You didn’t want to hold him down if he wanted to have fun at a party, but before you could say anything, the doors to the elevator opened and you had switched to the same, cold, finance director. 

The way your desks were set up, you were on one corner of the office while Johnny’s desk was sat on the other side of the office, facing you but leaving a small sliver in between the wall and his computer monitor for him to peek at you. You found yourself looking at that peek more now, as he would send you silent messages with his face or handwritten notes on his small whiteboard. You happened to peer over when your boss was talking to him, watching as he nodded his head and looked at the screen. Your eyes strained to look at the tiniest of notes, giggling when you saw a small help me :( . 

“Y/n?”

You jumped at the sound of Doyoung calling for you, standing next to your desk as you blinked at your assistant director, “oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You shook you head, smiling at him, “No, it’s fine. Is there something you need?”

Johnny finished his conversation with the section chief to look back over at you, hoping to send you an annoyed face from his last conversation only to see you engaged with whatever Doyoung was telling you. He watched the gentle curve of your nose and cheeks, noticing how anytime you had a suggestion you would tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His heart threatened to stop when he saw you smile, a small but bright smile that sent his brain into hysterics, the same smile that made him dizzy and the same smile that was always followed with a touch to his shoulder. 

His eyebrows furrowed when your face turned serious, watching as Doyoung sat next to you to look over something. What were you talking about? Was it serious? Is something wrong? Johnny watched as you stood up, taking Doyoung’s shoulder and walking away from your desk  and leading him to a secluded section. Johnny swallowed harshly and grimaced at the jealousy settling in his stomach, leaning against his chair and only hoping that you would tell him later on to help settle his nerves. 

“How are you holding up?” You asked Doyoung gently. No one was around the lounge during the first few hours of work, everyone working intensely on deadlines to be thinking about taking a break. All except your assistant director, who was tired as he was saddened by recent events in his life. 

“I’m..here, I guess. My brother is feeling better, thankfully. My mom, however…”

You bit you lip, “Doyoung, you know you can ask me if you need some time off, right? I understand. I can pick up extra work. Everyone loves you, we want to make sure you’re okay,”

“I would hate to put you in that position though—“

“I would hate to put you in a position where you had to pick between your family and your job,” you interrupted. “Seriously, if you need to take a few days, start today. It’s not like we’re ever short staffed in the finance department anyway.”

“You sure?”

“Positive,” you gave a smile, wrapping your arms around his waist as he hugged your shoulders. “Get some rest, you need it. Let me know when you feel better.”

“Thank you.” 

You pat Doyoung on the back, squeezing his arm as you watched him leave. You turned around and bumped into Johnny, cursing again as you squeezed your eyes shut. 

“Fuck, Johnny,” you hissed. The taller man laughed and walked towards the coffee machine. 

“Sorry. I needed a pick-me-up that wasn’t alcoholic,” he lied. There wasn’t anything he hated more than office coffee. 

“So do I,” you sighed, leaning against the counter and rubbing your temples. You smiled when Johnny handed you the first cup, his hand resting on the back of your neck as he squeezed gently. You smiled at the touch, leaning into his hold as you took a sip. 

“Everything okay?”

“Everything is okay,” you reassured, a gentle smile on your lips. “Don’t worry.”

It was that same smile again. Johnny bit his tongue to fight the urge to pull you into a kiss, what with you mewling in his hand. He took a deep breath instead, rubbing your back before he pulled away to grab his own coffee. 

“Shall we?” He asked, prompting his way out the door. 

You frowned, not ready for the work that was waiting for you now that you were down a person, “we might as well.” 

The end of the work shift rolled around faster than you expected, instantly grateful for a fast work day as they were rare the more you worked. You glanced over at Johnny before walking over to his desk, your head next to his as you watched him log off with a sigh. You smiled and faced him, your lips ghosting his ear. 

“How’s that report?” You teased. 

“I’ll send it tomorrow,” he grumbled. 

You laughed, pressing a kiss to his temple. 

You froze when you realize what you did. Johnny met your eyes with widened ones before you turned on your heel, hoping that he would forget what happened and dismiss it. 

“We should go!” You pressed, grabbing his arm. 

Johnny gave a giddy grin as you pulled him out of the office, his head spinning from a simple kiss to his forehead. Oh how he would beg for just one more touch. 

You drop Johnny off at his apartment, agreeing to meet up at nine o’clock at the bar. Johnny wanted to bring up the kiss again, but he didn’t want to press into it, instead, he opted on on kissing your forehead next, making you jump in surprise. 

“Now we’re even,” he grinned, “I’ll see you at nine!”

You threw an empty coffee cup at him, cursing at him when he successfully dodged it. You watched him wave with a smile before you drove off to your apartment, desperately attempting to silence your pounding heart. 

“Calm down,” you said to yourself, a smile forcing its way through your lips either way. 

When you got home, the first thing you did was peel your clothing off at the door, making your way back to the shower to rid yourself of all the work tension that had built up that day. You sigh and press your fingertips into your shoulder, wondering how wonderful it would feel to have Johnny to relive the pressure in your joints, his bow shaped lips pressing kisses to the skin. In contrast to earlier, you allowed your mind to wander to the dream you had this morning and imagine his hands on your waist, his strong chest pressed against your back as kissed your neck and back. 

Fine. You’ll admit that you’re attracted to your friend, but that was as far as it was going to go. 

Before your thoughts could get any deeper, you pull yourself out of the shower, running a comb through your hair hastily as you prepped you face up for make up. You dried your hair in the meantime, standing around your apartment naked before pulling an oversized shirt, giving yourself a second glance in the mirror. 

What…would Johnny’s shirts look like on me? You asked quietly. You watched yourself blush at the thought, smiling before going back to putting on your make up. 

It took you an hour and a half with distractions to finally complete your makeup, choosing your outfit next as you pulled on a tight A-Line skirt that hugged your hips comfortably, resting just above the middle of your thigh before you pulled on your shirt, a black, sweetheart neck shirt, your hand resting against your cleavage as you felt a bit embarrassed at the display of skin. You decided to straighten your hair then, attempting to use your long hair to hide it only to find that it looked better sleeked and behind your ears, showing your neck. 

A deep breath and a smile in the mirror decided you were ready to leave. You glanced at the time, grabbing a random jacket before walking to the taxi that you reserved, taking you to the bar that was near your apartment. 

You don’t know why you felt so nervous, your heart pounding against your chest as you thanked the taxi driver for the ride. You paid and tipped him earnestly, stepping outside in your heels as you waited awkwardly at the front door for your friend. You make eye contact with a few coworkers, quickly turning around and clenching your eyes before you hear your name gently called. 

You opened your eyes to see Johnny, look sleek in a black dress up shirt and matching pants. You smiled in relief, taking his hand and squeezing it tightly. 

“You…uh…” Johnny felt his ears burn as he racked in his brain for a compliment that could fit the way you looked. The truth of the matter was that you looked too beautiful, so incredibly gorgeous and stunning that left the man stupid.

“You look beautiful,” he decided on holding back on cheesy comments and feeling happy that it made you smile. 

“Thanks,” you beamed. “You don’t look too bad either.”

“There are people from work there, do you want to go to this bar instead?” 

“Yes please,” you nod, leaning into his hold as you walk towards the bar over. You sit across from him and watch as he ordered drinks and appetizers, the alcohol approaching first as he poured soju in a few glasses, handing you one he lifted his cup in hand. 

“Here’s to another week of work done,” he chanted, “only the rest of our lives to go.”

You laughed, clinking your drinks together before downing the drink in one go. 

The two of you continue to drink and laugh as you tear through appetizers and bottles of alcohol. Johnny had moved to your side of the booth, his head supported by his elbow that was resting against the table as he watched you eat, the corner of his lips curved upwards. You roll your eyes and take the bottle from his side, pouring yourself another drink. 

“Reached your limit already?” You teased, downing another shot and wiping the bit of alcohol that dripped over your chin. Johnny couldn’t help but to stare, blinking hard and shaking his head. 

“I’m…” his head dropped. “Drunk.”

You laughed, passing the food towards him as you pushed him to eat, “eat! You can’t give up on me yet, we’ve only been here for two hours.”

“No. I want you to eat, get your meals in.”

“I’ve had maybe three meals here alone,” you mock, pushing his head up.

Johnny huffed, grabbing the bottle and pouring you another shot, “keep drinking. It’s not fair that I’m the only one drunk.”

“Are you mad that I can take liquor better than you?”

Johnny smiled and hummed, his hand resting on your thigh as he squeezed, “yeah. s’not fair.”

You bit your lip at the contact, pouting when you felt his hand remove itself to pick up his chopsticks and eat at your request. 

Two more hours and at 2 am, the two of you stumbled out of the bar after you had paid the bill despite Johnny’s belligerence to pay. Both of you drunk out of your minds, you decide to walk to your apartment, which would be Johnny’s first time considering being months of friends. 

Said man looked up at the tall building, his eyes narrowed and his mouth open wide, “are you rich?”

“Kind of. Keep walking.” You huffed, pushing the man towards the front door. 

“How are you kind of rich?” 

Finally arriving at your apartment, Johnny splayed himself on your living room floor, landing on his back with a grunt as he looked around your lofty apartment. 

“This is really nice…I’m coming over more often,” he mumbled, “and it’s close to work.”

“That’s why I picked it.” You replied. You yawn and feel your head spin slightly as you kicked off your heels, walking to the living room to see Johnny lifting his hand up from the ground. You try pulling him up but he shook his head, pulling you down next. 

“Lay down with me,” he said. You laughed, instead opting to sit on his lap as his fingers run up and down your sides.

It didn’t take long for the man to pull you into his chest, listening to his heart beat in his chest as his fingers trailed up your bare back. You could fall asleep like this, your eyelids already falling heavy as he wrapped his arms around your figure instead. You rested your chin on his chest, using your fingers to caress his lips as he pressed absentminded kisses on them. You blushed, unsure if it was from the alcohol racing through your blood or from something more. You decided to test the theory, inching closer as you hovered over him.

“Johnny?”

“Hmm?”

“Can…” you swallowed, “can I kiss you?”

You heard his heart speed up in his chest as he sat up with you in his lap, “what?”

You bit your lip as you feared you had overstepped your boundary. You shook your head, giving a sheepish smile before starting to get up from his lap, “nothing. It was stupid, sorry—“

“Yes you can kiss me,” he said quickly. He knew he would regret if he missed on the opportunity, his hands on your hips again as his lips hovered over yours. “Please kiss me.”

Your knees felt like jelly under you at his quiet beg. Your fingers threaded through his hair as your noses barely bumped against each other, feeling his breath on your lips. 

“You won’t get mad at me tomorrow?” You asked, your forehead resting against his. 

“The only reason I would get mad for kissing you is if I didn’t end up doing it,” he replied, his eyes scanning your face for doubt. “Do you not want to? We don’t…have to…”

You panic at the space that was getting bigger in between your faces, shaking your head as you pressed yourself closer, “I want to, Johnny. I really want to.”

“Kiss me then,” he said, his lips pressing against your cheek. “Kiss me, please.”

You press your lips against his, your toes curling as Johnny snaked his strong arms around your waist, your lips slotting together perfectly as you moan in his mouth. You pull away breathlessly, eyes dilated as you stared at the man in front of you. 

“I like you, y/n,” he admitted, his cheeks flushed as his hands reached for yours. You swallow at the confession, allowing Johnny to thread his fingers with yours. “I really like you.”

You panicked as you weren’t sure if you returned the feelings. All you knew was that you loved the way your lips felt against his, the same way you liked his hands holding your own. You bit your lip, “Johnny…”

“You don’t have to like me back. I’m happy with just being here, with you. But I had to tell you because it would kill me if I didn’t.”

Truthfully, you had no idea how to respond. The only appropriate response was to press your lips against his again, not quite sure if you returned the feelings yet but being absolutely positive in knowing that you loved how he made you feel secure, safe, and...loved. 

“Why?” You asked, confused as to why he wouldn’t pick a pretty secretary or another girl in the office. “Why me?”

“Because you’re special,” he replied simply. “You're strong, you’re beautiful, you’re talented and so smart that it blows me away. You blow me away.”

“I think I love you, actually,” he said in a tone that sounded like he was just now realizing it on his own. The word sent your heart into your throat.

“You....love...me?”

Johnny blinked, struggling to read your emotions before you kissed him yet again, this time pushing him onto the floor as you grasped his collar with your hands. He pulled away momentarily, holding your face with his hands as he looked you in the eye. 

“Before I set myself up here,” he cleared his throat, “is it safe to assume you at least like me back?”

You laughed nodded your head before pecking his lips, “yes. It is.”

Johnny grinned before pulling you back in for a kiss. 

It wasn’t the least bit responsible, nor was it the least bit safe but neither one of you seemed to care. You peeled your clothing off faster than Johnny could unbutton his shirt, staring at you as he finally managed to yank his shirt off. 

He felt dizzy with lust upon seeing you completely naked under him, something he had only dreamt of up until this moment, as it was better than he could’ve ever imagined. His thumb ran over a nipple, his length twitching at the moan you let out before he pulled it, a mewl following as you spread you legs. 

“You’re a dream,” he breathed, kissing his way from your chest to your belly button. “If i wake up i’m going to be so fucking pissed.”

You laugh, pulling his lips in as you kiss his jawline, “if it’s a dream then I’ll wake you up and we’ll do it again.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, pulling his pants off with great speed. “Now I’m hoping it’s a dream.”

You roll your eyes at the comment, waiting expectantly with a finger on your clit, running circles as he ran his hand up and down his length, spitting on your expectant folds and moaning at the lewdness of it all.

“You like that?” He grinned. 

“It’s disgusting,” you breathed. “Yes. I do.”

It was his turn to laugh this time, kissing you again as he aligned his length with your entrance. His elbows rested on either side of your head, his lips finding purchase on your cheeks, forehead, and anywhere he could reach as he pushed himself inside. You threw your head back, his name falling from your lips as you squeezed his arm. 

“Beautiful,” he sighed. “So fucking beautiful.”

“Can you...”

“Yes, baby?”

Your face burned at the pet name, “fuck me, Johnny. Make me cry.”

He shuddered, pulling his length out to shove it into your warmth without warning, watching you cry out as he repeated the same rhythm, his head spinning from the pleasure and how tight you were squeezing his cock. 

“I dreamt...about you...” you admitted, fingers in your mouth. “Of your cock, fucking me, filling me up with cum—fuck, oh Johnny-“

“That makes two of us,” he moaned, his head falling in between his shoulders. You take advantage of this to push him on to his back again, watching his surprised face with a smile as  you turn to face away from him. Johnny grabbed your ass in response, his massive hands pinching, slapping, and doing whatever he could as you sank on his length, using the floor as leverage as you bounced on his lap. 

“Holy shit, y/n,” he groaned, his fingernails digging into your hips. “Shit—f-fuck-!”

You moan at his cock twitch inside you, filling you up promptly before pulling out to drip the same cum on his stomach and now flaccid member. You squeak out a yelp when you feel yourself being yanked on to what felt like a pair of lips, a tongue reaching in between your folds and eating you out feverishly as the same strong hands played with your nipples. 

Johnny sucked at your labia and sucked at your clit, humming as he slurped both his cum and your essence into his mouth, stiffening his tongue against your clit as you came with a cry, your legs shaking above his face as you collapsed on his stomach, breathing heavily as he pressed to fingers inside. 

“Wait-“ you moaned, your hand reaching for his as he continued to abuse your g-spot. Your legs trembled as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, pleading Johnny to pull his hand out before you came again. He made no effort to listen as another orgasm ripped through you, a scream falling from your lips as you squirted onto his chest, whimpering as your hole clenched around his index and ring finger, begging for more until he pulled said fingers out. 

You fell on your stomach, sticky, sweaty, and dizzy as your pussy still twitched. You couldn’t help but to smile at the kisses being pressed down your back, tender lips against hot skin as Johnny rubbed your back. 

“You okay?”

“More than okay,”you hummed. You stood on your legs shakily, forgetting that you weren’t exactly sober as you pulled at his hand. The taller man followed you to your bedroom, watching you fall against the sheets as you pulled him next to you. 

“You don’t want to get cleaned up first?” He asked, his head situating in between your breasts. 

“Nope,” you replied simply. 

There was something about the way he fit in your arms that made you kiss him again, this time fuller as you took great care in moving your lips against his, making sure he felt every ounce of happiness from your end on his. It seemed to work by the way he smiled, kissing your forehead next. 

You indulge each other in another rapid love making session, this time a bit shorter but still amazing as you came around him, shaking in his arms as he whispered praises in your ear. You both were exhausted by that point, Johnny falling asleep inside you as you drifted to sleep before he did. 

When you woke up, it was with a pounding headache and sore joints, confused as to why you felt so sticky until you realized there was something inside you. 

Something hard...and radiating quite a bit of heat. 

“Johnny?” you whispered. 

you faced the other man, smiling at his sleeping face as you leaned in to kiss him, morning breath be damned. he returned the kiss regardless, sighing dreamily as he accidentally pressed himself deeper inside you, a groan falling from his lips. 

“thank god i wasn’t dreaming.”

“i told you that if you were dreaming we would just do it again.”

johnny’s eyes were still closed but a smile was on his lips, “can we do it anyway?”

“will you pay for breakfast?”

“mm, I suppose.” he said. 

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck as his lips found purchase in the crook of your neck. 

[atmilliways]

On the 11th day of Dethmas this writer gives to thee…

Dec 23 - Home (or alone) for the holidays

Toki is totally not lonely because his bandmates forgot about him, and Magnus is totally not guilty about rolling with it to sate his own curiosities.

Like Kevin McCallister, it wasn't like Toki tried to get left behind . . . but he's not entirely mad about it, either.

Anyway, this is my first Magnus/Toki fic, so, hmm.

~

Mordhome Alone

“So,” Magnus said as he crossed the threshold. “This is the famous Mordhaus.”

“Yeah, isn’t it cools?” Toki enthused as he ushered the older man inside. 

It certainly was a step up from the crappy apartment they’d had back when Magnus was still in Dethklok. For one thing, he never could’ve broken in to paint REVENGE IS COMING on the walls here. He’d counted at least eleven snipers that he could see on the way in, and knowing both the band’s reputation for over the top security measures and the limitations of his one good eye, probably at least double that number that he hadn’t noticed. If he weren’t here by Toki’s express invitation, he’d be so many different kinds of dead right now. 

He didn’t need any recon inside this place for The Plan—it would never work to pull anything there, not with so much security in every nook and cranny. But he’d always been curious, so here he was. 

“And none of the other guys are here?” Magnus pressed, still looking around. Fuck, this place was huge. (This could have been his.) “Not even Offdensen?”

“Nah,” Toki replied offhandedly, “they thoughts I was on the plane and tooks offs withouts me to goes on a ski trip, ands now they’re stucks in a blizzards. They can’t gets back and I can’t goes theres. So, I calls you!”

Without any warning that Magnus had picked up on, Toki reached out and grabbed his hand. It wasn’t like he threaded their fingers together or anything, but the surprise connection was more than Magnus felt comfortable with, an uncomfortable feeling in his gut that he wasn’t used to at all and had no idea how to label. (He didn’t do guilt; he didn’t do ‘cowed by how open and naively friendly someone was unexpectedly being’ either. It was definitely, one hundred percent neither of those things.)

“Come ons, I shows you around!”

The young guitarist pulled him from room to room, chattering nonstop. It was annoying in an informative, easy to tune out the rambling bits sort of way. This was the room where Dethklok hung out and played video games, this was the room where they hung out to watch tv and eat snacks, this was the room where they hung out in a surprisingly small hot tub for five male billionaires who didn’t seem to like each other’s company that much, this was the cavernous kitchen that they frequented when they wanted more snacks or possibly even a meal. It was endless and irritating, and Magnus didn’t actually want to spend a ton of time with this babbling idiot, but he reminded himself that this was all part of The Plan and sullenly continued to let himself be dragged around and shown all the shit that he could have had, but didn’t. 

He did ask for a drink, though, to blunt the edges. Toki gestured to someone in his blind spot, and moments later a cold beer was handed to him by a hooded servant. 

“And this ams my room,” Toki told him proudly, tugging Magnus into . . . the smallest room he had seen yet. It was basically a stone box with an on-suite. Model airplanes hung from the ceiling, action figures crowded the edges of his bookshelf, and the desk was piled with unfinished projects and puzzles and crap. One of the pictures hanging on the wall over the narrow bed and beneath a double-sided battle axe was an early promo shot of the band, and another was a close-up of some scary zombie-looking asshole’s face, maybe a relative or something. The rest of the walls were mostly just decorated with taped up posters of boats, planets, and sharks. 

“This?” Magnus repeated. “Seriously? You have . . . and entire fucking mansion that’s tricked out with all kinds of cool shit, but this is your room.”

If it had been him, he’d have his own arcade, giant tv, and hot tub in his room, so he could do all those things on his own if he wanted to. Plus a bitching sound system. Plus bigass windows to let some actual fucking light in. Plus . . . god, was that bed from IKEA or something? Was all of this from IKEA? Riches were wasted on this kid, Magnus decided scornfully. He had no idea how to appreciate what he had at his fingertips. 

Toki shrugged. “I gots all the rest of the place if I wants that other stuff, so this ams just all stuffs I mades by myself. Evens the desk, I puts that together. Just Toki’s.” He met Magnus’ incredulous look with a sudden grin and squeezed his hand. “Comes on, let’s go back to the others room and watch a movies!”

~

It wasn’t until halfway through the movie that Magnus wasn’t even paying attention to—he was looking around and trying to appraise the cost and potential EBay value of anything he saw that wasn’t nailed down and small enough to fit in his pocket—that he realized Toki kept scooting closer to him on the couch. That, after all the hand holding, finally started to set off alarm bells. 

Did the poor simple bastard have some sort of crush on him or something? How embarrassing. So embarrassing that he couldn’t decide if he wanted to try and snap a picture to sell to some gossip rags later or not. 

That was totally why he felt weird and jumpy, and only more so once Toki had inched close enough to rest his head on Magnus’ shoulder. A weird, warm, hyper-awareness bloomed anywhere Toki touched him—first his shoulder, then his side, then (Magnus absolutely did not gulp when this happened) his thigh. He had to wrestle down the impulse to start bouncing that leg restlessly, because he didn’t dare shake him off and potentially ruin The Plan. 

So he stayed still. And the thing about the warmth was that Toki was just radiating with it, and the longer he was so close the more it spread. Magnus felt as though he might incandesce at any moment and he fucking hated every second of it. 

He tried directing his attention to the tv and remembered it was December, so Toki had picked a Christmas movie at random. On the giant screen, Sarah Jessica Parker was covered in egg and screaming in a kitchen. Not the best distraction ever. 

“Needs anything?” Toki asked casually, as if everything was just fine and dandy, apparently somehow not noticing that Magnus was on the verge of starting to worry he might have a heart attack. 

“No,” Magnus grunted. A way out would be great, thanks. He remembered he still had a beer in one hand (his fourth or fifth, at this point) and raised his unencumbered arm to glug the rest of it down. 

“You sures?” Toki pressed, looking up at him with guileless eyes. 

Shaking the last few drops out and tossing the bottle down the couch, Magnus started to say Another drink, something stronger this time, but he couldn’t. Toki’s lips pressed warmly, nervously against his, kissing away the aftertaste of beer. 

He had not come prepared for this. 

He didn’t even need to be here, it wasn’t necessary to The Plan. 

Toki was too goddamned nice, inviting him here and showing him around like he genuinely wasn’t a threat, like he was someone Toki actually enjoyed being around. (Magnus thought pretty highly of himself, but even he had to admit that most people didn’t ever appreciate his presence. Or if they did it, usually wasn’t for this long. Jealous douchebags, that’s all they were, the whole fucking human race.) 

Magnus took it anyway. Fuck it, why not? It had been one thing when he was still in his twenties or thirties, hot in a rough-and-tumble bad-boy musician way, getting his share of action after playing a gig at some nothing bar, but at his age and painful lack of fame and fortune, to have anyone this young and ripped pressed up against him was a rare occurrence. He was taking the kiss out of spite, he told himself, and gave back as good as he got. 

Surely he wouldn’t regret this later. 

Toki sighed against his mouth, bright blue eyes fluttering open. “Thanks you, Magnus.”

“Uh.” Magnus fought against instinctively grimacing at the thanks, which he wasn’t used to. He licked absently at his lip, not realizing he was doing so until the tip of his tongue brushed Toki’s lip too and made the other man giggle. Fucking giggle. “For what?”

“For beings here,” Toki told him. “Is nice to nots be alones on Christmas, don’ts you thinks?”

Magnus wanted to say he’d ever particularly noticed Christmas one way or the other before, but for some reason it (the lie) stuck in his throat. “. . . Yeah, I guess.”

Something in Toki’s eyes shifted and he suddenly looked . . . he looked lonely, as familiar a sight as though Magnus was recognizing it in a mirror (which he definitely never did). He wondered what Toki was gunning for here—a friend with benefits, or something more than that? 

Something ‘just Toki’s,’ a little holiday closeness with someone he thought actually cared?

(That thought didn’t make Magnus feel like a two-bit white masquerading as something better, not even a little bit.)

“You wants to sees my room agains?” Toki whispered?

On the tv, sappy holiday ambiance music played as the movie went out of its way to establish that everyone was friendly and happy and appropriately paired up now, all two-by-two sheep marching into Noah’s ark before the winter flood. 

“Sure,” Magnus said. 

He wasn’t a sheep, he told himself, it had just been too long since he’d last gotten laid. 

Christmas had nothing whatsoever to do with it.

[rons-wheezely]

Ron x Reader || Uh Oh, Feelings

[requested]

Genre: Fluff?? some fighting but it’s real cute at the end

Summary: “You.. you Coward!” ; Slytherin!Fem!reader x Ron Weasley

-------------------------------

Another boring day, another boring lesson. You really should take “full advantage” of their curriculums, but what does that Gryffindor know anyways? Hermione told you off the other day, and she blamed you for some prank that Malfoy pulled on them. Is she racist? House-cist even?

“Miss L/n, are you listening?” The Professor looks at you, waiting like a time bomb for your answer. Quickly, you try to recompose yourself, even when you could hear the other students snickering and whispering around you. The last bit of pride you had as a Slytherin quickly shot out the window.

“I’m sorry Professor Slughorn,” your clearly embarrassed and sitting so tense you could probably pop a vein,” but could you repeat your words?”

“Can you please tell me the etymology of the Amortentia potion? I need a Slytherin redemption after the last one recited the Bee Movie...”

“Uhm, hold on.” You flip through your notes, quickly brushing past each crisp page.” ‘Amor’ is a Roman God of Love and in French (amour), it also means love. ‘Tentia’ is Latin for held. So holding/lasting love potion?”

You get the look of approval, and that breath you’ve been holding in for the last five minutes finally came out. You really saved yourself this time..

At lunch, you come face to face with none other than Hermione. Did she come to yell at you again? “If you’ve come to humiliate me in front of the whole Slytherin house, please save it for another time.”

“...actually, I wanted to apologize.” Hermione is looking at the floor and grabbing onto the hems of her skirt, swaying as she spoke. “Once I figured out it was Draco, it just didn’t sit well with me that I had yelled at you earlier.”

“I mean, your not entirely wrong, if that makes sense? I guess I should take my classes more seriously, but sometimes it feels like I’m missing something, y’know?” You pick at the food on your plate, not picking up anything in particular. “How about we call it a truce? Since it seems wrong to call ourselves enemies now.”

Hermine he smiles and agrees. She sits down at your table like she had done it a million times, which she hadn’t, but she talked so casually it almost seemed like she did. Conversation floats between you two until you notice a certain someone approach your table.

“Hermione?” Ron calls out. Though the room is crowded, he spots her sitting at one of the most unlikely of places. And chatting with someone. He approaches them and eyes the other girl through his outgrown bangs. The way curiosity bounced off her eyes as if it was light, and the way that her lips curled into that of the sly smile, sent shivers down his spine.

He turns to Hermione and whispers in a hushed tone, “Who the bloody hell is that? Since when are we making friends with.. with Slytherins?“

As soon as the words left his mouth, she lightly hit him on the arm in offense. “Since now, you blundering idiot.“

After his brief encounter with the Slytherin stranger, he couldn’t get her image out of his mind. Whether it was the girl with the inquisitive eyes or what he had for breakfast that morning, it had left him with an uncomfortable aftertaste.

The more days that passed by, the more he noticed how many classes you two shared. He started remembering even the tiniest details of you. Like the remarkable way your hand glided across the pages while taking notes so swiftly, or how you sometimes stopped and stared off daydreaming of some other world. 

Even when you pass by him, your scent always lingered longer than it should have. After two weeks, it drove him mad, and he finally cracked.

You had always known who Ron Weasley was, especially because of his last name’s infamy. It was always the darkest secret in your heart to like him, and thought of your predicament like Romeo and Juliet.

 You had your own family name to uphold, after all. You’d definitely get bullied by one Slytherin or the other if they found out about your little crush. You’d never tell a soul.

“Y/n L/n!! You.. you Coward!” Ron called you out in the courtyard, during rush hour, nonetheless. You whip your head around faster than Harry could say Expelliarmus. Your face wore a scowl that sensed bad luck. “What do you want, Weasley?”

“I can’t believe you slipped me a bloody Love Potion,” He stomped towards you, making you take a couple steps backwards. The only reason he fell for a Slytherin had to be because of Amortentia, or so he thought. How could he even have real feelings for her anyways? “I demand a cure.” His breath was hot on your cheeks, but your anger burned hotter than his.

“You think you can go around accusing Slytherins just because of some unresolved tension between houses?” You stepped forward, anger climbing through your throat and an aching burning in your lungs. “How dare you! I never slipped you a Love Potion, you lying little-”

Ron’s eyes flashed in horror before being pulled away by Harry. Hermione steps between you two, trying to separate the conflict that surrounded you and Ron. “Everyone is staring. Please, just stop!” she cried.

“Don’t think I don’t know your opinions of us Slytherin, Ron Weasley.” The words left as soon as the anger had come. You breath was heavy and ragged as your brain tried to catch up with your actions. 

oH gOD you just argued with rON WEASLEY. You didn’t expect this kind of Love story as you watched him get dragged out by his friend, Harry. Hermione pulled you into the girls bathroom, rambling off every question in the book. “I can’t believe Ron would pull something this stupid. I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

“Don’t be, Hermione. I feel so horrible yelling at him, I never meant to say the things that I did.” Your body slumped against the wall, replaying the whole scene back like a record. 

After the school day ended, you walked back to your common room. Each step you took was slower and softer, and your fingers trembled as they clutched onto your belongings. 

“..Y/n.” You were too busy looking down at your feet moving that you bumped into his chest. Ron’s chest. You looked up, and the fear you had in your eyes stared back at you with a gentle gaze.

Before he spoke another word, you kissed him. You kissed him like there was no tomorrow, like the aching in your heart bursted through your chest. He kissed back with such a fire and passion, it was no wonder he was a Gryffindor. You clung to each other like it was your last breath, and you hung onto the collar of his uniform. 

“I’d love you, no matter what house you came from, Y/n.” He dipped you like he’d seen in every muggle movie and pressed his lips against yours once more. The empty hallway you were walking in became full of students as they erupted in cheers. “I thought I’d have you to myself a little longer before word got out..”

You laughed in his embrace, never wanting to let go.

--------------------------

-A/N-

I just changed it a little bit so I hope that was okay lol. Thank you sm for requesting!!

Feedback: Welcomed

Requests: Open

[wordsinwinters]

Then Again, Part 25  (Peter Parker x Reader)

Masterlist (with AO3 links)

Total word count: 47,470

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 26, 

Summary: After an intense argument and a forced-to-share-the-bed situation during their junior year decathlon trip, Peter and the Reader examine their faults and failings. As they attempt to fix their mistakes and improve their friendship, that friendship quickly begins to evolve into something else. 

Slow burn fic in which all characters are included and their dynamics explored; multiple character POVs. 

Betas: @girl-tips-from-satan and @fanboyswhereare-you

Without further ado,

Then Again Part 25:

(Words: 3,948)

“It’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

The thought of Peter making more of an effort, of him consciously choosing to pay me closer attention with the active intention of improving our friendship-- it isn’t the worst idea. If anything, it’s a rather attractive solution to a nonexistent problem. The suggestion alone is already prompting imaginary scenarios I refuse to acknowledge right now; though, inevitably, they’ll become daydream fuel within a couple days. Still, the whole plan is unnecessary, and I know it. I’m not angry with him anymore. I may have a few questions (some I plan on asking, some I’ll keep to myself), but if I do have any hidden resentment for his behavior stowed away in my subconscious, it’s as small and inconsequential as a handful of sand in the sea. Allowing him to carry this plan out would be using him. The pretenses would be false. 

Even apart from that, though, his texts gave off an odd, metallic aftertaste. The proposal reads mechanically-- it’s a scientific study with a simple hypothesis (and a reluctant dependent variable). It’s the idea of being a lab mouse, I think, that earns it the title the dumbest thing in my mind. It’s condescending. Even if tempting. 

Then again, I know Peter. I understand he doesn’t actually view me as a test subject to analyze and discard after the results come in. We’re friends. He feels bad and tossed out a poorly worded solution because he thinks I’m secretly pissed at him. It’s only an idea he offered, one I have full power to reject. 

Maybe I’m trying to dismiss it quickly because, if I’m being honest, I’m selfish. Selfishly, I want to say yes despite knowing the sort of negative message it would send to Peter. A small part of me is willing to let him feel worse so I can pretend his own guilty feelings are more significant than they really are. The possibility, the mirage just within reach, of balancing that tightrope between reality and fantasy with him is... alluring, to say the least.

And impossible. It would be wrong. Wouldn’t it? Of course it would be.

Like blades slicing fruit in a blender, my brain whips through these thoughts within seconds. Across on her bed, Michelle’s expression can only be described as disapproving or faintly disgusted as she too digests Peter’s idea. It’s the male stupidity is endless look we share when near particularly annoying men in public. It’s not often one we have to exchange in reference to the boys; their moronic moments tend to be entertaining rather than obnoxious, ignorant, or misogynistic.

She meets my eyes, and I wonder if my face gives anything away. 

“That feels weird to me.” 

The sentence is a verbal tiptoe forward, an almost-question probe.

“It did sound weird saying it out loud,” I agree. 

“You know,” she says, her tone mildly serious as she sits up straighter. “You’re not obligated to say yes to everything because you don’t want to disappoint someone. Especially a boy. And especially if he’s trying to fix his dumb mistakes by pressuring you into something you’re not comfortable with.” She pauses, glancing at the ceiling and raising an eyebrow. “If you want, I can make him come to his senses.”

Michelle tightens her fists and mimes three exaggerated punches. I imagine it, amused: Before the bite, Peter wouldn’t have stood a chance against her if she really meant it; now, he’d probably put his arms up to block her blows, minimally annoyed, and wait for her to tire herself out. I roll my eyes and can’t help mirroring her smile. 

Nevertheless, her wording is…. 

The same question pops up for the millionth time. 

Do I want her to know?

“It’s Peter, it’s not, like, ‘a boy,’” I say first, air quoting the last words. Maybe later, depending. But for now, I’ll avoid it. “And I’ll pass, but I appreciate the offer. I’m not uncomfortable and he isn’t being pushy or anything. I only meant that the…” nearly impersonal approach to our personal relationship? “the hyperconscious wording is weird. I wouldn’t turn down free snacks if the offer wasn’t described as a….” situation in which he views us as mere associates or abstract friends--

Again, I remind myself he probably doesn’t see it that way. 

“Monitored social experiment with unequal power dynamics?” she offers.

That fits.

“Precisely.” 

She snorts. Shaking her head, Michelle pauses for a few more seconds. Mentally chewing it all over again, her expression bounces from annoyance to curiosity to neutrality to annoyance again to what looks surprisingly close to compromise or understanding. In the meantime, I focus on watching her facial journey and not thinking. 

In the tune of surrender, she sighs before she speaks.

“I’m sure he’s trying his best,” she says reluctantly, her hands opening outward like a shrug, “his best is just bad. If it were anyone else, I’d tell you to refuse and block them. But, as much as it pains me to admit, I think we both know him too well to think his motives are as stupid as his phrasing. If anything, he’s probably excited about his ‘new genius friendship plan.’”

Nodding, relief hums under my skin: I know she’s right. I mean, how many people would fight crime to protect countless strangers in their city, then turn around and have cold, detached views of their chosen, personal friends? 

“That’s true,” I say. “I should probably text him back, then.”

She holds up a finger as I reach for my phone.

“Still,” she adds with a tone of subtle authority, “it’s up to you. I’m not saying you should say yes -- no obligations, remember? -- I just don’t think you need to worry that he isn’t trying or isn’t being genuine. That’s all.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Michelle’s stare lasts a moment longer, her sincerity as visible and certain as the brown of her eyes. After a second or two, she sits back onto her pillows and relaxes, turning to face the t.v. once again, leaving me to work out my final decision on my own. As I allow myself to reiterate my own arguments in my head, the Cullen family discusses the mythology of half human, half vampire fetuses with Jacob. 

It doesn’t take me long to reach a conclusion. Maybe it’s because I’m pretty tired, but the answer seems obvious, straightforward and simple in logic. I unlock my phone with the feeling Michelle knows exactly what I’m about to type. I begin to write the message I had settled on before: “I’ll think about it.” Simple and honest. And temporary.

But then something else pops into my brain, and, foolishly, I write that instead.

“What about you? Do you need new reasons to be around me?”

I send the text without a moment’s reflection. Rereading it, it sounds a little… coded, to say the least. Like a Freudian slip. Don’t overthink it. God, I hate Freud. But it does sound desperate. And awkward. Damn. It definitely does. It reminds me of the embarrassing things I used to post on social media in middle school, which I really shouldn’t think about either. 

I only wondered if the idea should go both ways. Instead, the message sounds insecure... which I am, I suppose, but he doesn’t need to know that.

Bubbles appear on his side. I resist the urge to send a series of backpedaling messages. They disappear. Again. My self control dissipates and I quickly send the original one: I’ll think about it.

Unthinking, I pull the small keychain out of my pocket as I wait for his reply and massage the edge. Sticking the pointed corner into my thumbpad, I accidentally dig it in harder than intended. And I realize something. 

The keychain was the first. The gifts or incentives or things. 

A flat click of a nearby door closing snaps my attention. The boys’ room? Glancing up, I see flash of Edward pleading with Jacob on the t.v. screen, and to my left, a shadow stepping up to the door. A gap in the golden line of outside light.

For half a minute, nothing happens. Aside from Rosalie shouldering past Jacob as he walks in to speak to Bella. After that, when it does come, the sound is soft.

Knock. Knock knock knock knock, knock knock.

It’s Peter. Ned’s knocking pattern is shorter.

The sound jolts my heart rate a smidge, like a phantom defibrillator.

Michelle’s head rolls to one side to stare at the hallway, her shoulders slumped in an I’m giving up posture. 

“That’s very obviously for you,” she says, pushing herself up and tossing the Twizzler bag on the nightstand, “so I’ll let you go deal with it. I think I’ll brush my teeth and get ready for bed.” She hops off the mattress, raises her arms, and stretches them from side to side. “You okay if we call it a night?”

“More than okay,” I say, standing up as well, the carpet cool under my toes. Once I speak to Peter, I’ll need to knock out. Otherwise my brain will spiral. And maybe, if all goes well, my dreams tonight will be better than staying up to snicker at this hilariously shitty movie. “But what if it is for you?” 

She rolls her eyes.

“Tell them I’m gone. Missing, dead, whatever.” Michelle clamps her eyes shut and sticks her tongue out to mimic cartoonish death. Then she pops back to life with a fake warning glare. “So long as no one bothers me.”

She hits the off button on the remote, Jacob and Bella dissolving into nothing, and as she trudges to the bathroom, I slip the keychain and a keycard back into my pocket before copying her arm stretch to calm my buzzing nerves. Michelle salutes me before turning and closing the bathroom door. I walk to the hallway’s. The handle is cold to the touch.

I swing it open. As expected: Peter. The empty space surrounding him is relatively quiet, only muffled laughter and television sounds coming from rooms at the opposite end. The air smells like linens, cleaning supplies, and artificial lavender. This too is as expected: the typical, sanitary comfort of staying in a nice hotel at night. I tell myself it’s a calming environment. 

Peter’s in his usual pajamas, an old beat up t-shirt and sweatpants, standing slightly to the left, hands clasped in front of him. His height drops a tiny bit at the sound of the door, like he was rocking from heel to toe a second ago, and as his eyes lift from the floor to meet mine, he smiles. A warm swooping sensation envelops my stomach. 

“Hey! You answered.” 

He almost sounds surprised. I make a face in response. 

“You thought I wouldn’t?”

I mean this as a joke, a reference to the couple late nights he’s shown up at my door (window, really) to clean or patch himself up before going home. As he knows, I’m not in the habit of shutting him out. 

Still, his head tilts and his eyebrows go up into an expression of, Well, you weren’t exactly answering me before. It isn’t a challenging or upset look. If anything, it’s almost flustered.

“Fair enough,” I concede, lukewarm guilt sticking in my throat. “I was thinking about it though, I promise, I just hadn’t decided for sure yet.”

He nods, fidgeting with his fingernails and momentarily glancing at the floor.

“Yeah, I get that,” he says, looking back up. His ears redden. “I, uh, phrased it pretty moronically. Or at least that’s what Ned said.” 

He takes a step or two back, closer to his door. It seems like an invitation to make the conversation more private, so I close mine and Michelle’s and step forward.

“All I meant,” he continues, his hands rolling over one another in gesture, “was that I thought it might be helpful if I did a few nice things for you when we get back. Not like I’m actually trying to condition you, like a, like a--”

“Dog?”

His hands halt and his face pinches into an expression that practically reads I am painfully aware of every mistake I have ever made and how the number continues to grow in marker across his forehead. His eyes retain a lightness though, the sort that suggests he’s able to laugh about it. He runs his right hand through his hair. Mine twinges.

“Exactly. I feel like that makes it seem kind of, um--”

“Bad?”

“Very bad,” he confirms, nodding. He takes a deeper breath, half smiling in an embarrassed, self pitying way. “I honestly forgot about that Pavlock stuff, I was just trying to use psych terms to make it sound more persuasive and, um, I don’t know, impressive?”

He shrugs and offers an I know I’m an idiot, but thank you for being patient smile. I bite my tongue against correcting Pavlov, which he seems incapable of pronouncing properly. Even when we studied for that exam, he only said it properly a handful of times, despite Michelle flicking bits of paper at him each time he said Pavlock.

I smile too, noting the irony. And I think of what she said: he’s trying his best, his best is just bad. It doesn’t seem so bad when he’s standing in front of me, though. If anything, it’s easy. 

“You mean,” I begin to ask, more to tease than to clarify, “as opposed to the highly offensive and disagreeable, ‘Hey, I want to make up for being a jerk, so I’m going to stash some snacks for you in my locker’?”

He bites his lip as if it’ll keep his grin pinned down, though it doesn’t really. A blush spreads across his cheekbones and for a split second, he looks away to the other end of the hall. When he looks back, his smile falters, just a little. The vulnerability reminds me of his apology last night, when he thought I was sleeping. 

“I was thinking maybe it’d be more than snacks?” he offers. “Like, I don’t know, I don’t really have it figured out yet, but hanging out a bit more? Movie nights or that sort of thing? Or if you have a lot of homework, we could study together and help each other stay focused?”

That last suggestion seems like an oxymoron. Study together to keep ourselves on track? It’s a laughable concept. Well, only if it’s--

“Just us?”

Peter freezes, his shoulders straightening slightly, his height rising a few millimeters. 

That is the central question, though. Whether it’s a positive or negative point toward my decision, I can’t tell. All the same, it’s been ages since we last tried studying together, just the two of us. It works best with Michelle and Ned there as well, seeing as we tend to get distracted. 

His eyes move quickly between mine as if he’s trying to read my thoughts before answering. He squints.

“Is that okay?” he asks, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “I understand if not, if it’s uncomfortable or--”

I shake my head, putting my hand on his arm to stop him, only realizing it when his eyes flicker to that hand.

“Of course not,” I say, removing it. “I mean, of course it’s okay. We’ve hung out without Ned and MJ tons of times before. It’s been a while but it’s no big deal. That’d be fine.”

“Okay, good!” he says, the tension in his body evaporating. “That’s great!” 

His eyes have lit up. I imagine he’s relieved those two won’t be around the whole time to make fun of his movie choices or whatever he has planned. I try to hold a smile to reassure him and clear his doubts while internally pinching myself to remember to not think too much on this. There’s no need to dust off those old, useless daydreams of movie nights and falling asleep on his shoulder with his head atop mine and May lightly laying a blanket across us and all the rest. Absolutely no need. Shut it down.

He runs a hand through his hair, nodding in a way that’s usually accompanied by him saying cool, cool, cool, cool.

“Would Fridays be good for movie nights?”

I barely register the question before I answer it.

“Probably, sure. That should be alright.”

His smile widens and he shakes his head once and continues nodding. 

“Perfect! We can have it at my place.”

I nod back, chest tightening as I process. At the same time, I beg my brain not to process. Just for a minute. But then, since I refuse to let them move forward, the gears in my head turn backward, thoughts reeling like a bicycle chain. Judging by the look on Peter’s face, we’re realizing the same thing:

“Wait,” he says carefully. “So you’re saying yes? Like, you’re cool with it? You want to try?”

God help me.

“I suppose so,” I say. At hearing my own answer, a different type of swooping feeling runs from my feet up. The looking over a high balcony type.

“And we’ll figure the rest out later?” he asks.

“Peter, really, if you’re still planning on the locker snacks, that’s more than enough.”

He laughs.

“Yeah, that’s what you think because you’re being lame. And limiting. And--”

“Leaving?”

It’s time, definitely. I’d forgotten how blinding Peter’s excitement and positivity can be without interference. Today has been full enough, I should end this now. 

“That’s fair,” he says. “I think Ned rubbed off on me. All that obnoxious energy.”

He shakes his whole body as if ridding himself of said energy and I restrain myself from making a joke about his word choice. Instead, I nod and with an exasperated “Night, Peter,” and step back toward my room. He does the same, heading toward his. Just before he makes to use his keycard, he pivots back. 

“Wait! I almost forgot.”

I turn around and he’s closer than before. Peter suddenly looks particularly nervous, his head angled to the side like a question, his hands fumbling over themselves. His cheeks are reddening again too, spreading from his cheeks to his hairline.

“Yeah?”

He steps forward to place himself directly in front of me. His eyes flit a quick path which his hands follow-- they reach out to touch my elbows before jumping up to my shoulders, settling there almost steadily before shooting a little higher to suddenly but gently hold my head. And then he leans over and firmly kisses my forehead. As he pulls away, one hand disappears and the other musses up my hair.

What is he--? 

We both take a tiny step back. My pulse pounds as my thoughts blur into nothing but impressions of nonsensical, ridiculous questions my brain won’t dignify with clarity. Peter’s expression is halfway between an apology and.. a dare? His eyes are as wide as I know mine must be, but there’s something playing at his lips. For a second, it feels as though we’re balanced on a challenge neither of us is willing to answer. 

The bubble of the moment pops as he shakes his head and gestures vaguely to his and Ned’s room, his floundering arm movements returning him to the strong appearance of embarrassment.

“May,” he blurts, “Aunt May threatened to, uh, um, well, that part’s not really important, if I didn’t pass that along with ‘all her love.’” The red in his face deepens. “Apparently she’s not too happy I didn’t do that last night too.”

Of course. It makes immediate sense. The memory rushes back. She told him to do that to all of us when she dropped us off at the bus that morning. I might laugh at my own stupid shock and poor memory but I can’t seem to manage it. 

“Do you want me to get MJ too?” I ask, realizing May likely demanded that he make the rounds. Maybe this is what started that play fight between him and Ned tonight. Either Ned dodged it or made a joke about wishing May were there to do it herself. 

It clicks together.

“What?” He looks lost, his head tilted to the side, brow knotted up. “What do you mean?”

“Unless, do you want me to pass it along from May?”

The realization hits across his face. He shakes his head rapidly.

“No, no, no, she’d probably kill me if I tried to do that to her. But, I mean, if you want to pass it along-- or just tell her to lie if May asks. She probably won’t, honestly, but, you know, just in case.”

His shrug and half smile are practically helpless. May ought to have more mercy on him. And me. 

“Alright.” A grin breaks over my face in a way I don’t quite understand and can’t stop. “I’ll see you in the morning then.”

“Right. Goodnight, then. See you in the morning.”

“Night, Peter.”

Rather than stepping back, as intended though, I rush forward. Involuntarily, or at least I’ll pretend, since it’s just as surprising to me as it is to him, I lean forward and kiss his cheek. Or try to. It happens too quickly to register fully, but I’m almost positive I knick the corner of his mouth? That would definitely be unintentional.

“ThatwasforMay,” I explain, stumbling backward. Seeming to sense it, Peter grabs my arm to steady me before I trip outright. He releases his grip and stares, stunned. 

If I thought his eyes were wide earlier, it turns out they can open much wider. His pupils are comically blown open. 

“What?” he asks, seeming concerned. “What was that? I, uh, I didn’t catch what you said.”

“That was, um, that was for May. You know, in exchange.”

That’s perfect. For the first time in a while, my brain saves me.

His face, though still flushed red, relaxes.

“You’ll see her tomorrow,” he points out. “Like, we’ll all see her at the same time. It’d be kind of pointless to pass that on, wouldn’t it?”

Shit. My brain is useless.

“Then, uh… keep it?”

His facial muscles twitch as if he’s glitching between a smile and bewilderment. Then a flint of mischief.

“Unless,” he says slowly, “you want me to pass it along to Ned?”

“And it’s official,” I say, resisting the urge to smack him. “Goodnight!”

He grins as near as he ever gets to a smirk (a term I associate too closely to ass-hattery to assign to him) and I turn to my room as he repeats it back.

We both step to our doors and open them. I glance back just in time to see him practically jump into his room with a speed that reminds me he’s a superhero, even if he’s an idiot. Filled with tangled emotions, I pause, listening or waiting or catching my breath. I only need a moment.

Behind his and Ned’s door, there’s a sudden crash, a sound like leaping bedsprings and something smashing, immediately followed by Peter groaning and Ned’s mocking laughter. Right before I go to my own room, I hear Peter’s exasperated voice: Shit! Dude, can you help me fix it? 

The room is dark when I slip back inside but the alarm clock shines enough red to see vague outlines of the walls and dressers and beds. Legs slightly numb, I stumble my way to the small bathroom to get ready for bed. It only takes a couple minutes, distracted as I am. 

I slip into the blankets of my bed. The warm body heat next to me can only mean one thing: Michelle.

It’s just one of those unspoken things. 

Next update: God only knows.

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[banashee]

We can be whatever we want

The dim light of the rising sun floats through the cracks of the shutters early in the morning and Steve blinks against it. Waking up slowly is still a new sensation to him - as is waking up next to another person. It’s not uncomfortable, and he really could get used to this. He listens to the calm, even heartbeat coming from the smaller body next to him. Natasha has her back turned, cuddled up under the blankets and she’s slowly waking up.

Then, Steve nearly jumps out of his skin. There is a very sudden and ice cold touch on his bare skin, and it takes him a second to realize that Natasha is very much responsible for it. She put her freezing feet right on his lower back and hums happily as she wiggles closer, half asleep but clearly aware of what she’s doing. 

Steve still curses out loud and then half heartedly complains,

“Urgh, your feet are cold.”

 It gets met with a low chuckle from Nat. 

“Yup, and you’re warm.” She’s completely unconcerned and even shoves her feet further up the back of his shirt in an attempt to get more warmth. He’s expected it by now, and despite himself, smiles lopsidedly. 

“So you want to try and freeze me again?”

“No, then I’d have to find another human hot water bottle to keep me company. Too much effort.”

Natasha isn’t even trying to hide the smile creeping into her voice and then she turns around to wrap her arms around his middle and pushes her icy toes in between his legs instead - but he’s prepared this time. Steve happily pulls her closer, one arm firmly wrapped around her and messing up the back of her bright red hair, something she usually wouldn’t let anyone get away with. 

They start the day lazy and comfortable, rolling around in bed. Then they hit the sparring mats together. 

Neither of them shows the other any mercy, and about an hour later, they’re drenched in sweat and sporting brand new bruises. They share a shower where they get to more intimate and even more entertaining things than that and Steve can’t help but notice that apparently to them, beating the crap out of each other in the gym seems to count as foreplay these days. He also finds that he doesn’t mind that at all and doesn’t question what that says about either of them.  

It’s much easier to just live in the moment and enjoy this - whatever it is - as long as it’ll last.

*+~

Steve has made himself comfortable in his own little corner down in the main lab. 

He’s got a whole art studio upstairs in his apartment, because Tony is both over the top in anything and everything he does and very generous to the people around him. The room is large, full of light and equipped with giant windows and just about anything an artist could ever need. Just thinking about how expensive all of it must have been makes Steve's head spin, but he loves the studio and uses it frequently. The only thing it lacks is company though, so he’s often hanging out down in the lab, because both Tony and Bruce spend a lot of time there and the others come by frequently. 

Today, Steve is working on a large painting of a nightly scenery, the New York Skyline in blues, purples and small yellow lights. It’s beautiful, and he loves that he can get lost in all the little details. 

But it doesn't help that he keeps thinking about Natasha and whatever it is they have. They never put a label on it, and while there is a lot of trust and they’re comfortable around each other, he can’t help but think that it’s probably casual unless they agree to specify it otherwise. Which is a problem - he’s not sure how to bring this up to her. Just in case she doesn’t want something committed, which is entirely possible, with the lives they have. Romantic relationships don’t necessarily work out in a case like this, and it’s just easier to seek out the warmth and intimacy of another person at night just to be able to hold onto something without hoping for or expecting anything else from it. 

Then again, romantic relationships are never guaranteed to work out. Steve feels out of his depth in this.

Blindly, he reaches for his coffee mug to drink a few sips. He makes a face at the aftertaste and loads up his brush with more paint while he’s listening with half an ear as Tony pokes Clint with his screwdriver, because he’s sitting with his ass on Tony’s desk while he’s fletching arrows. They bricker and complain like an old married couple. Clint pokes Tony in the armpit with the back of the arrow he's currently holding and the inventor complains endlessly as he throws a balled up, stained paper towel at his head in response. Because they're mature adults like that. 

The two of them are a oddly perfect combination, and Steve (amongst other people) spent the longest time wondering if they would end up throwing hands or proposing marriage to each other by the end of the day - it is a pretty even tie most of the time.

There are backup protocols in place just in case they team up and go rogue together. That fact alone should be terrifying because Tony and Clint left to their own devices mean chaos and fiery destruction on a good day and it still baffles everyone how these two managed to actually start a healthy and loving relationship with each other. It’s hard to believe some days, especially when another screwdriver gets chucked through the air as they bricker on.

Steve doesn’t react to it, taking another sip of coffee - it makes him cringe again. 

"Coffee tastes odd today." he muses, concentrating on another small and detailed part of his painting. It takes his mind off of things. Things like his growing not-so-casual-anymore feelings for Natasha which is really not something he wants to think about right now, hence why he's hanging out down here. 

"Excuse you, my coffee is fucking great." Hawkeye grouches good naturedly from his spot on the desk, putting a feather on the shaft of his arrow in place without looking up. 

Steve just shrugs, keeps drinking. It just gets worse and worse as time goes on and he says as much. 

Tony turns, one eyebrow raised at him and then he bursts out laughing. 

"Steve you giant baffoon, stop drinking the paint water." 

"Wait, what?! “ he looks down into his mug. The coffee now looks suspiciously purple while the mug with the water and his paint brushes looks much, much cleaner. He sighs heavily. 

"Goddammit."

"You have a purple mustache." Clint supplies helpfully and Steve runs a hand down his face. 

"Great, that's just what I wanted to wear today." 

"Impeccable taste as always." 

Steve furiously wipes at his face with the corner of his shirt. But there is no pretense left at this point, anyway. 

“Seriously tho, what’s up with you today? You’re not usually that much of a dork.”

“Thanks very much.” He quips back and then stops for a moment. After a beat of silence, he actually starts talking about the issue on his mind - Clint listens as he starts carving wood for another arrow, and nods along to what Steve is telling him. He’s Natashas best friend after all, so it’s not like he wouldn’t know. Everyone knows, if he’s honest. But he still keeps rambling on.

“Go talk to her. It’ll be fine.” is what Clint finally answers and yeah, if only it was that easy, Steve thinks. Or says out loud, because his mouth keeps lamenting without his permission, which is great. 

“Talk to her.” Is all that Clint says, and he repeats himself three or four more times, interrupting Steve’s increasingly flustered rambling every single time.  After that, Tony chimes in.

“Hey Steve, I have an idea.”

“Yes?”

Tony looks up with a flat look. “Go talk to her.”

“Why am I even talking to you?”

“We’re charming and sparkling company.”

“Nah, that can’t be it.”

“Seriously, go talk to her. This is between her and you, we can’t solve shit.”

Steve is annoyed because they’re right. But then, Tony looks down on whatever the hell he’s working on and says,

“Oh. Oops.”

That sends Clint scrambling off of the table, because “Oh. Oops.” is the very last thing you want to hear Tony Stark say in the labs. Ever.

Clint is grabbing Tony to pull him with him as he puts as much distance as possible between them and the table and Steve launches forward to put himself in between his friends and the small-ish explosion that occurs seconds later. 

The three of them remain mostly unharmed, a bit of scorched hair and damaged pride to be pulled by the scruff like a naughty kitten aside. 

“For fuck’s sake.”

Once again, Steve sighs heavily. He does that a lot around here. 

“Steve?”

“Yes.” 

“Talk to her.”

He glares, because once again, he’s annoyed that they’re right about this. 

Goddamnit. 

*+~

“Stop thinking so hard.” Natasha complains at night. She’s wrapped around him, comfortable and content, running one hand over his shoulder. If Steve had been under the impression it’s gone unnoticed, well, he’s dead wrong about that.

He’s about to say something stupid like “I’m not” or “I have no idea what you’re talking about” but this is Natasha, and she always notices. So the words that are actually coming out of his mouth are

“What are we?” he stops for a second before he continues. “I’m sorry, it’s just, we never really discussed any specifics and, well…” Steve can feel his face heating up. Way to go, Rogers.

Natasha hums in response, pushing herself away from him a little bit. Not much, just enough so they can look each other in the eye. She also keeps her hand on his arm when she answers, rubbing small circles with her thumb.

“We can be whatever we want. If you’d prefer to keep this casual, that’s okay with me. But if you’d like this to be more… Because I’d like that.” 

She’s open with him, not hiding, not a single mask or distraction in place. Her green eyes are no longer sleepy, but they’re sparkling and beautiful and Steve could get lost in them. Her answer takes him by surprise, and so does her small smile at his facial expression that obviously gives him away. But he smiles back, and simply replies,

“Yes, I would like that very much.” Then, he asks, “Is it okay when I kiss you?” because while they’ve done much more than that before, it feels like this would still make it very much different.

Instead of answering, Natasha crosses the distance herself. 

They hold onto each other, almost melting into each other. They stop kissing to catch some breath, and Steve gently tucks a lose strand of hair behind Natashas ear, keeping his hand there to slowly stroke her red curls. Both of them are probably smiling a sappy smile that no one else can see and when they finally fall asleep that night, they do so with a silent happiness about them.

In the morning, Steve wakes up to icy feet on his back once again. This time tho, he thinks he might as well get used to that, too, although it doesn’t stop him from complaining. It doesn’t stop Natasha from laughing and snuggling closer, either, so it's all good.

*+~

Prompt No. 58 – "Urgh. Your feet are cold" – "Yup, and you're warm."

[faithfreedom]

Whumptober Day 7

Hi! Sorry, I'm so late but this took forever! I hope you enjoy!

Warning: not really descriptive torture, kidnapping, electrocution, burns, Deceit's the bad guy, I named him Dolos,

Let me know if I need to tag anything else!

Whumptober list is by @la-vie-en-whump so go check them out!

(This is all set in the modern day)

Kidnapped

Prince Virgil was sitting in the back garden, earphones blocking the outside world when a strange man with weird scarring on his face approached. Virgil stared at him, quickly debating whether or not to alert the castle guards or to wait and see what he wants.

"Good evening, Prince." The stranger greets with a kind smile.

"Who are you? I'm not allowed to talk to strangers." Virgil states, hoping the man would leave so he could go back to his music.

"My apologies, my name is Dolos." The man laughs, tipping his hat respectively like in the movies Virgil watched with his older brothers, Roman, Patton and Logan.

"Do you need something?" Virgil asks politely, still confused why this man wanted to talk to him of all people. Roman was usually the one everyone wanted to talk to since he was really good at it but Virgil was...not.

"I just wanted to meet the youngest prince and give him a gift," Dolos says, pulling a small wrapped package out from under his cloak. Suddenly curious, Virgil leans closer to see and eagerly takes the box.

"I'm not supposed to take things from strangers," Virgil begins, remembering the lessons his parents drilled into him, "dad says-"

"But I'm not a stranger anymore, am I? Anyway, would the guards let someone with malicious intent enter the castle in the first place?" Dolos cut him off but Virgil shrugged. That made sense, the guards would never put him in danger and would've seen Dolos entering.

"I guess not..." Virgil says and opens the box to find a beautifully decorated cupcake that smells simply delicious! Virgil's mouth waters and he takes a big bite out of it. A burst of yummy flavor explodes in his mouth and he lets out a contented groan and only after he finishes it, does he notice a distinct bitter aftertaste. He goes to mention to Dolos that he feels funny but his mouth isn't working as he'd like and his world slowly fades to black.

oOo

Virgil blinks awake, his confused, hazy mind processing the anxiety, the strange white room he found himself in caused. Was he.... in the hospital? What happened? The world clears and he notices a heavy metal handcuff locked around his right wrist. He touches it softly, running his fingers over the rough metal and even tugged at it a bit to see if it would let go. It didn't, and he notes that the handcuff isn't attached to anything like he first thought.

He definitely wasn't in the hospital.

What happened before he passed out? He was outside, listening to music and watching the stars but then... DOLOS! That man, Dolos came and gave him a cupcake! He was drugged... he was kidnapped! Virgil swallows thickly, remembering overhearing his mother warning his brothers about this kind of thing. How they were important and bad people would try to hurt them for money. Was that what was happening? Was he going to be hurt?

The door slides open and Dolos enters, smirking at the glare Virgil gives him.

"Did you have a good sleep?" Dolos asks casually as if Virgil had fallen asleep naturally and hadn't been drugged by said man.

"Stay away from me." Virgil hissed But Dolos came closer anyways, towering over the boy.

"Don't you worry, Virgil, if your parents are sensible, you'll be home in no time."

"What do you want?"

"Just your father's computer. It's not a lot to ask, in return for your safety." Dolos says flippantly but Virgil knows how important that laptop is. It holds all the security codes to their house and many important buildings around the city... if Dolos got ahold of them, there could be major consequences.

He couldn't let them trade that computer for him. It just wasn't worth it.

"They won't give it to you." Virgil tries but Dolos simply laughs.

"They will if they value your safety." Virgil tensed at the threatening undertone to the statement and watches Dolos leave, obviously leaving the door slightly ajar.

It was as if he wanted him to try to escape and Virgil knew this but that didn't stop him from waiting a couple minutes until he was sure Dolos was gone. He then he slipped out of the room. As soon as he passed through the doorway though, the handcuff on his wrist started shocking him, sending waves of increasing, burning pain up his arm. The further he got from the room, the worse it got but Virgil was determined to leave and powered through. Even when the pain got too much, he forced himself to move until he crumbled to the floor, body twitching with pain.

Virgil curled in on himself and Dolos appeared above him, a look of amused surprise on his face.

"Impressive you got this far, too bad you couldn't make it just a little further." He taunted and Virgil started crying.

He could see the door! It was so close, so close to freedom!

He sobbed like the 10-year-old he was as Dolos dragged him back to the white room. Once inside, Dolos locks the door and takes the handcuff off, reveling the angry, bubbling red burn on his wrist. Virgil hugs his arm to his chest protectively and tries to pull away as he fearfully watches Dolos extend the cuff and wrap it around Virgil's neck.

"You made it farther than I thought so maybe you'll learn better with it this way. You wouldn't want to try out how it feels, would you?" Dolos threatens and the uncomfortable feeling of the metal prongs pressing into his neck only made Virgil more scared. He shook his head and Dolos exits, leaving Virgil to curl into a ball, pressed into the furthest corner of the room.

oOo

Virgil wakes up to an unbearable, burning pain on his neck and lets out a strangled yell, pleading for it to stop.

It turns off as suddenly as it started and once Virgil got a grip on his breathing, he looked up to see Dolos laughing in the doorway. Virgil holds the collar still with his left hand, hoping that it would stop it from rubbing against his now sensitive skin.

"Here, occupy yourself," Dolos says and places a complicated word puzzle in front of him. "You have fifteen minutes to complete it or I turn that collar of yours up to a ten."

Virgil's stomach drops and begins the puzzle. It's not the hardest thing he's come across and he could liken it to the work he'd seen Logan doing for a school project.

He doesn't notice it at first, but as time goes on, a pain starts in his neck and he realizes that the shock collar is slowly being turned up. A pang of frustration echoes in his chest but he can't lose focus! He needs to finish this but the pain is distracting and he doesn't know how much time he has left. He just starts sobbing after another minute of the intensifying pain and Dolos says, "Oops, times up." And the pain becomes unbearable. He topples over and desperately yanks at the collar, screaming for mercy.

Dolos leaves it on for about a minute and then turns It off, amused at the boy's pain but bored now that the fun was over. He left the kid alone after another moment, wondering how much longer it would take for that stupid kid's parents to respond to his threats.

oOo

It was five hours after Dolos left Virgil when he reappeared in the doorway. Virgil didn't look up as he entered the room and pressed himself as close to the wall as possible. As if that would do anything to help him.

He yelped as Dolos yanked him out of the corner by his hair and thrust a phone at him. Confused, Virgil put it up to his ear and was surprised to hear his mother on the other line.

"Mom?" He gasps, his throat hurting from the former abuse. She starts sobbing on the other line and Virgil can feel tears welling in his eyes too.

"D-don't do what he wants!" Virgil warned but before she could answer, the collar turns on and he dropped the phone, letting out a warbled cry that turned into choked sobs.

Dolos picked up the phone himself, setting the collar to a 4 and left the boy to curl in a ball of pain in the corner.

"I expect an answer in the next 24 hours or this'll look like child's play by the time I finish." Dolos threatened and hung up, leaving Virgil's collar on overnight as a punishment.

oOo

The next morning, Dolos finally brings Virgil some kind of food and a glass of water which the kid eagerly ate without so much as looking at a Dolos. He didn't care for now as he waited and then placed another puzzle before the boy. Dolos holds back a laugh at the look of horror on the kids face as Dolos announces he only has 10 minutes to finish this one.

To Dolos's surprise, Virgil manages to finish this one with almost a minute to spare but just because he felt like it, turns the collar up to a 10 anyways.

oOo

After the 24 hours Dolos gave Virgil's parents pass without so much as a peep from them, he begins to abuse Virgil for whatever reason he pleases. Virgil grabs at his food before he's told to- shocked. Virgil steps too close to him - shocked. Virgil looks at him the wrong way - shocked.

To Dolos's pleasure, this makes the kid a wreak and after another 24 hours pass, Dolos gets more creative.

He began to find other ways of torturing Virgil using things such as; fire, boiling water, fists, kicks, mind tricks and sound.

He even accidentally burst Virgil's right eardrum messing with sound later that day and Dolos got the chance to taunt the kid with the threat of deafness.

oOo

It was five days after Virgil last spoke to his mother when Dolos dragged him into a new room and sat where Dolos told him to.

"Do not move," Dolos ordered and Virgil watched him connect a video chat, a shred of hope blooming in his chest at the thought of seeing his mother.

"Virgil!" Was the first thing his mom gasped when she appeared on the screen and tears welled in Virgil's eyes. "We're coming to get you! It's okay, everything's going to be okay-"

"Enough." Dolos snaps, "you did this to him and he knows it. You just hate him and want him gone." The hope dies in Virgil's chest and he looked down at the floor.

"No, Virgil! We tried, I'm so sorry! We tried!" She broke down into sobs and his father appeared onscreen.

"Don't you dare lay another finger on him!" Virgil's father snarls and a Dolos laughs as he turns the collar on. Virgil lets out a pained whine, holding back his shouts to spare his parents. Dolos laughs while his parents watch their son writhe in pain on the ground before they abruptly disconnected halfway through.

Dolos frowned but turns the collar off again and dragged Virgil back into his original room, leaving him alone for the night.

oOo

It was three days since the last time Virgil saw Dolos and he wondered briefly if he just left without him. It was a hopeful thought, that maybe he wouldn't be hurt anymore but he couldn't be sure so he stayed put, starving and in pain.

oOo

The next day, Virgil heard a noise in the hallway and his door opened slowly but it wasn't Dolos this time. A man in a police man's uniform stood there and called to someone else in the hallway. Then he was being lifted tenderly in the man's arms and they headed into the hallway.

As soon as he left the room though, the thought of being shocked came to Virgil's mind and he started thrashing violently, trying to get back to the room, where he was safe! The man's grip on him was tight though and in his weakened state, he had no chance. Thankfully the collar didn't turn on as they left the building and Virgil was loaded into an ambulance parked outside.

oOo

For the next three weeks, Virgil spent his time in the hospital and every magazine and newspaper was covering his story with headlines like 'Brave Prince Survives Kidnapping' or 'Kidnapped Prince Returns Home.'

The problem Virgil had with those, was that he didn't feel too brave and honestly didn't feel like much of a prince. The fact was that he was a prince but he didn't feel like the title suited him.

During his stay in the hospital, Virgil's brothers stayed with him for as long as they possibly could and one of them was always in the room with Virgil at all times.

"And then Steven fought the zombie gems with Connie and they fused to create Stevonnie RIGHT IN FRONT OF CONNIES MOM!" Roman cried as he recounted the most recent episode of his favorite television series.

"You'll have to show me the episode when I get home," Virgil whispered, sounding like he gargled rocks but the doctor told them that his throat was healing slowly but surely.

"I will! We'll have a marathon with a pillow fort and everything!" Roman cried, smiling widely at his youngest brother.

"Can I join?" Patton asks as he enters the room with lunch for the three of them.

"Of course!" Roman says and Virgil nods as Patton hands him the plate. He hesitates before eating anything though, the memory of pain keeping him from digging in without expressed permission.

"You can eat Virgil." Roman allowed with a frown. They'd been having to give him permission to do things since he got back and the doctor had recommended him a therapist to help him deal with everything he's gone through.

Virgil nodded slowly and began to eat, his brothers watching for a moment before Patton said,

"Logan's coming later today. He had to tutor a couple kids and will be coming around 5pm."

"What a nerd." Roman snorted and Virgil chuckled softly, nodding his agreement. Patton swatted playfully at them and the three ate in silence until Roman got fed up and put on a YouTube video to fill the silence.

They watched YouTube for the rest of the night, Roman and Patton squashed on both of Virgil's sides, curled around each other.

Logan entered around 5pm as he'd said and joined their cuddle pile, petting his fingers softly through Virgil's hair until they all fell asleep, together.

[niskrp]

:// SEARCHING OPERATIVE …

… searching for AGENT 023 / THE LOVERS. classified files indicate that they go by LEE TAEWON, and are also known as EON. born in SEOUL, SK, in 1988/07/26, further investigation makes it clear that they joined the agency SIX YEARS ago. they are an INTELLIGENCE AGENT who specialize in WEAPONS. higher clearance is needed to access further information…

… ENTER PASSWORD TO ACCESS THE COMPLETE FILE.

:// ACCESSING BACKGROUND FILES …

prelude.

he doesn’t know his past and he doesn’t know his future.

peace is a foreign word on his tongue that leaves a bitter aftertaste. peace is a memory that makes him want to hit anything on his way until his knuckles are bloodied and raw. peace is an unbelievable prospect that makes him want to scream until his throat is sore and there are no more words to be told.

it doesn’t start violent, but somewhere along the way, his entire life is constructed around explosions, and he finds something close to home amidst the ashes.

i.

he grows up in an orphanage, a place where the unanswered questions on his tongue fall into deaf ears. lee taewon is a curious child, and he learns early that speaking out for the wrong reasons get you in trouble. he’s not an angry child at first, wide-eyed and wondering, he asks questions that are too heavy for grown-ups to answer. why did they leave? is there any way i can get them back? why does no one come for me?

they tell him not to think about those things but be grateful instead. grateful, grateful, grateful. that’s all he has a right to be, and as fate would have it, that’s also the last thing taewon wants to be.

he lashes out, gets into fights with kids way too often. he is that kid with scraped knees and bruises all over their arms, and at a point, he is sure they wonder if he is too much trouble to keep around. he is lucky enough that they don’t have a choice, but he frequents the director’s office more than any other place. the disappointed face of the man in front of him, his teacher’s red face is clear in his mind to this day.

he is just a child, one that has no desire to abide by the rules he doesn’t believe in. too much energy, too many questions with absolutely no output, they barely manage to keep taewon in his place.

ii.

no one really wants to be friends with a troublemaker. it’s a fact he has known for a while, but luckily for him, there seems to be an exception. only one, but it’s more than enough.

he sits down next to the new kid who silently stares at his plate, and pokes him in the side. it is not a violent one, but gentler — something he doesn’t do very often. the boy with too many questions, has more questions, and for the first time, he gets genuine replies, those without a huff of annoyance. it starts with a hey, who are you? and ends with them grinning at each other by the end of the day.

they couldn’t be more different from one another, but somehow it works, and maybe for the first time ever, taewon is grateful to have a friend like doyoon. he shares everything with him, and even though he still gets into fights, he has someone to come back to.

he continues to cause trouble, but he says to himself (and his friend) that they are always with a reason, ones that he believes in. he can’t stand injustice in the way that he can’t stand someone messing with doyoon. as much as a single word and he is prone to lashing out. then again, the director says that he’s improving, and he supposes that’s what all the adults are caring about.

iii.

and when he least expects it, the director calls taewon into his room and tells him he’s going to have a family again. it makes no sense to the thirteen-year-old, family is a foreign concept, and with his reputation as the resident troublemaker, it’s unbelievable someone wants him to be their child. he isn’t sure if he wants to go, and the worst of all, he doesn’t want to leave his friend behind, doesn’t want to venture into the unknown with people he doesn’t know.

it’s not a situation he can stand his ground, and in a few days, they make him pack his bags and say goodbye to the life he is leaving behind. they have smiles on their faces that irk taewon to no end, but soon enough, he is in a new house, in a new room all alone.

the first thing he realizes is that he hates the silence. it’s too much. there are no screams, no sounds of feet running across the corridors. there’s just the voice of the tv coming through the walls, his foster parents talking to each other about him that he hears much too clearly. he doesn’t know what to do, how to act. it’s disorienting.

they don’t talk much; with the dad never being around, and the mom always at a neighbor’s —  taewon often finds himself lost. the new school makes him want to rip his uniforms to shreds, and all he knows is that he wants to return back.

iv. ( child abuse tw )

it’s not surprising that he ends up in the principal’s office again after a couple of months. it’s a different office, cleaner, shinier, but the situation is completely the same. the woman looks at him with disappointment in her eyes, and the teacher who broke the fight stares at him with a red face.

it’s so familiar that taewon enjoys it, so much that he doesn’t see it as a punishment at all. it happens too many times that his parents need to pick him up personally, and that’s when it starts. it begins with yelling, it’s loud, too loud against the stark silence he has been living in for days. then, when he needs to be picked up from school again, they go forward with a different form of punishment, and it leaves him crying on the floor of his room, clutching his knees close to his chest as blood runs down his face.

and just like that, he knows he needs to get out. it takes yet another accident before he actually manages to run out of the door, determined to never see them again. he runs, runs as fast as he can, as fast as his feet can take him. and somehow, someone finds him and after hours spent with the police, he returns back to the orphanage.

v.

six months later, he’s back. it’s as if nothing has changed but him, and even though he should be rational about it, it makes him heated yet again. he doesn’t know what he wants to do, it’s as if he’s stuck between different places, and now he can’t fall back into rhythm back again. he sees the looks they throw his way, less disappointment, more pity now, and it makes him even more furious because they only make him more uncomfortable.

it takes a few more weeks until he can be himself again, realize that nothing has changed, not really. they assign him to a psychologist that he absolutely despises, but he answers the questions and does the bare minimum so that he doesn’t need to deal with anyone else.

he is lucky that his friend is there, and perhaps doyoon is one of the things that remind him that he can return back to where he left just as easily. it happens, slowly yet surely, and even though it’s a painful process, he manages to bury it deep down.

vi.

then taewon has to grow up. when his best friend gets a scholarship and an acceptance letter to a college far away, there is a sting in his chest that makes him feel guilty. he is happy for him, but the idea of being left behind hurts — he promises himself to study hard, so that he can join him too — and once he sees the key hanging at the end of a string, he promises them both that he will study hard.

once he puts his mind into something, he achieves it, and that’s how he gets into a good college. selecting a major isn’t difficult at all, his time spent tinkering electronics he shouldn’t, he decides to major in mechanical engineering. it’s at the end of his first year that a professor tells him he can also do a double major, only if he continues studying hard. and that’s exactly what he does, majoring in robotics as well, taking more workload but reveling in the fact that he has an output now, and it’s something he genuinely likes.

four years spent in a small apartment with his best friend is the best times of his life, going to laboratories and spending their free time together eating ramen and watching bad movies, taewon knows he is going to treasure those four years for life.

v.

and then, when they both get their degrees, doyoon gets an offer he can’t refuse. he needs to leave yet again, for longer this time, further away than taewon could ever fathom. of course it upsets him that his best is going to be so far away, but he is so proud of him that he ignores it, hugs him close and tells him to be safe.

unlike doyoon, taewon has no idea about his future prospects; he knows what he likes doing, but it seems impossible to make a living out of it. he asks if he could talk alone to one of his favourite professors over a cup of coffee, and through brainstorming back and forth, he decides to apply for a military research program. it’s kept under lock and key, that much is certain, the website has too few information, and if not for his professor, taewon doesn’t think he could ever stumble across such a division.

when he gets a positive reply back, he is excited to join the research team. it begins with designing vehicles, then changes into actual weapons and gadgets that are used across the government. it’s challenging to work in a team with so many noises, all smart and wanting to be heard — but they make do, and taewon is proud of the work they do.

then again, he is hit with the reality. there’s politics involved in ways he didn’t think it would, but the worst part is that designing weapons also mean that they are going to be used. used in ways he doesn’t want to think about — not until he turns on the television and sees the destruction they have caused. it makes him spiral down for a few months until he tries to find a way out. the only thing is, there is no way out after years of working with them closely, but they offer him something else.

if you do not want to work with the military directly, we have more suitable places for your skills. taewon is surprised, but he listens intently to the job offer. it’s perhaps the better of two evils, but he doesn’t have any doubts when he applies to be a trainee for the nis.

vi.

it takes a year, much longer than he would like, much strenuous that he could have prepared for, but he manages to graduate and become an intelligence agent. with his speciality as a weapon specialist, he knows there is a lot more he can do than weapons, and he enjoys spending time at the workshop than the research programs he was in with the military.

he still makes weapons, yet with the creativity that he could add more, make more — taewon strives. there are times when he is unsure about what the future will bring, but now that it has been five years working the same job, he can happily say there is rarely a dull day, and that’s what he likes.

:// ACCESSING PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATION …

even though he has grown up, sometimes it’s clear to see that he is still the same child stomping his feet, ready to fight for whatever he believes in. taewon is very reactive, blunt, and not very good with compromises. years spent working with the government have honed him well, he knows what to do, and when not to snap back — but it still isn’t too hard to get him angry. rather than the quick anger that flashes and disappears, as a thirty-year-old, he lets it seethe, throws glares across the corridor at whoever crossed him. it’s not a healthy habit, and there have been a few warnings, so he is doing his best to behave.

when it comes to working, he is very goal-oriented and creative. he finds it very easy to look at things outside of the box. even when he is working on a task given by the agency, he has an extra project he’s working on, and even on his time off, it’s very likely that he is going over the details in his mind. he genuinely loves what he does, so he doesn’t mind going an extra mile and making weapons he is genuinely proud of. the question of morality is the hardest one for him, one that he pointedly ignores. he likes nis more than his previous job, and it shows in the way that he genuinely tries to be a good employee. there are times he can’t tone his personality down, but if anything, he does a good job.

… END OF FILE. CONTACT THE AGENT DIRECTLY FOR MORE.

[bechloeficstuff]

Best Quotes of Experimentation

Hey @redlance, remember that anon? That was me. My “collection” of your quotes sprinkled with my thoughts turned out a mess tbh, and it’s kinda really late, and way too long, but here you go anyways:

Best Quotes of Experimentation, aka The Bechloe Bible™. Chapters 1-35.

[or: what you should read if u love that fic but ur too lazy for a whole reread.]

Beca smiles a little, relieved, and tries not to shift under Chloe’s touch. She doesn’t find it comfortable, not exactly.” - Chapter 1 in the middle - because thAT’S THE FEELING THATS THE FEELING EXACTLY

“It’s fine.” She’s quick to say and now her smile is too wide, the wrong kind of bright.  - Chapter 1 towards the end - “the wrong kind of bright“ really nails it. i love your word choice.

She doesn’t really want to talk to anyone right now, because even though they know better than to expect an immediate explanation or apology – and she swears that it isn’t because she’s an asshole, just super awkward – Beca will still feel like she has to give one. - Chapter 2 relatively in the middle - you’re entirely to hashtag relatable, this is Not Okay™ (jk i lov u)

And Chloe loves this. Love being given the opportunity to sit back and take in moments like these. Her best friends interacting around her, the enormous sense of family and comfort that they give her. - Chapter 7 relatively at the beginning - friends fill my heart with warmth, as does this quote

“Two girls, one cup.” It leaves her in a rush and she covers her face with her hands the second she's finished saying it. Chloe's mouth actually falls open. “That's disgusting.” She gasps after a moment, sounding thoroughly appalled. “I know.” Beca sounds so forlorn and defeated, like she's committed some heinous, ignominious offence. Chloe thinks it might be the most adorable thing she's ever witnessed. - Chapter 7 in the middle somewhere - a good example about how abso-fucking-lutely talented you are in describing feelings and the little changes in them through facial expressions in so much detail without it ever getting boring or dry - also it’s really funny :D

So, um,” excellent start, “when you said that,” and her on and off eye contact is in top form today, “that thing about wanting to kiss me?” - Chapter 8, middle - made me laugh :D

“Sorry.” She mumbles, suddenly sombre, and brushes the back of her hand against her nose. “I just...” A sigh escapes her and she hates how sad and pathetic it sounds. She hates feeling like this; weak and worthless and mopy. Because God, she hates moping. More so when other people do it because it makes her all uncomfortable and she never knows what to do. She would love to be able to tell Chloe something other than the truth. Joke that she was waiting for the redhead so they could pick up where they left off in Stacie's car. “I didn't want anyone else to find me.” What comes out though, is the truth. Which is usually how things with Chloe go. - Chapter 11, lower middle - resonated within me

also: some comparisons or phrases i was too lazy to also copy+paste. like for example chloe or beca uttering something that was like a "drunkenly conceived lovechild between a whine and a groan" or something like that or:

The earrings, her tone, and what Aubrey had later coined as Beca's “fuck off smile”.  - Chapter 12 at the beginning ...stuff like that u know. i really like how you put the words together so well (idk how to say that in good english. you obviously would know tho, and that’s the point)

And she only realises that Chloe is awake when she feels her press a smile into her shoulder. - Chapter 13, lower half  - this fluff is giving me diabetes i swear to god

“I can't leave anyone alone for five minutes around here. You bitches all end up drunk off your tits or gayer than Elton John, God rest his soul.” Beca presses her face into her pillow. “Elton John isn't dead, Amy. - Chapter 13, lower half - bc that was fucking funny 😂

"You know that's what they all say, right? 'One thing led to another' and then bam." Beca makes the mistake of taking a drink from her straw as he speaks. "You're pregnant." And it almost results in what Jesse would refer to a 'spit take', but she manages to keep the liquid inside of her mouth. Just barely. "Yeah, um," she wipes her thumb across her bottom lip to catch the thin smear of dribbled drink, “weirdly? Not worried about that.” - Chapter 14, relative beginning - i think i snorted pretty badly when i read that and i feel like people don’t appreciate your comedic talent enough

Amy's face contorts under the strain of her determination and Cynthia Rose pre-emptively clutches at the oversized knit blanket that they sometimes have to throw over the Aussie to get her to calm her down. - Chapter 14, end of first quarter(?) - the amy related humor just kept getting better and better. your characterization of her is also scarily accurate, i doubt that the movie writers could’ve come up with better stuff tbh

but they haven't been able to come this far in their friendship without Beca learning how to read Chloe. Chloe's kind of like a well-worn paperback at this point, even feels a little ragged around her edges, and so Beca can probably see the panic Chloe feels herself spirally towards after her reaction. - Chapter 15, first half - i love love love good comparisons and metaphors

something rattles behind her ribcage, jostled by the term of endearment. - Chapter 16, last third - beautiful yet accurate description of that feeling

she can see clear sky blue eyes – mischievous, sincere; Chloe's natural state – staring at her over the tops of her knees - Chapter 16, last third - bc imagining that just made me fall in love with the amazing character that is your version of chloe beale all over again ugh god

“Oh my god, it's like I lose control of my body when I’m around you.” The words come out as a rushed whisper, once again without her conscious consent - Chapter 16, last third - bc it was an unexpected yet very pleasant plot point

Beca feels her pulse quicken. It's a familiar beat, one that inevitably starts up whenever she's about to make a move, because initiating things isn't usually within her comfort zone.  - Chapter 16, at the end - bc you can just relate to that a lot as a reader

Chloe's protest is punctuated in all the wrong place by giggles that continually tug at the edges of Beca's smile.  - Chapter 18, towards the end - really nice description

Because she is really, genuinely sore and Chloe does give truly magical massages and it has nothing to do with Beca missing the feeling of her hands on her, because that would be weird. - Chapter 19, beginning - Beca’s sad attempts at denial are gold material :D

“I was conceived on the steps of the Sydney Opera House.” - Chapter 25, lower half - because I could genuinely hear Rebel Wilson saying that in a PP movie. (see: frighteningly spot-on characterization of amy)

There are butterflies mating in her stomach, she knows it. - Chapter 25, towards the end - :D

She can still recall the first time it had stormed after her father's death. - Chapter 26, relative beginning - because you don't expect the end of the sentence and it hits you pretty hard. in the feels. am i ok? not really

And Chloe can't help herself; she twists her head around and brushes her nose against the soft skin of Beca's neck before straining just enough to place a kiss to the same spot - Chapter 26, towards the end - bc that wording "can't help herself" is so accurate

Beca, who whimpers into Chloe's mouth when the redhead presses closer and deepens the kiss, and sucks a sharp breath in when Chloe's hand closes tightly around Beca's arm. Beca, who lets Chloe kiss her for far, far too long given their whereabouts before jerking away. - Chapter 26, end - bc the timing and description and everything of that kiss shows the amount of tension between those two and it's just weirdly perfect idk

Generally, Chloe aggressively and shamelessly flirting the whole time they're on that couch in those moments is my jam

Beca feels fingertips wriggling into the gap at the junction of her thumb and forefinger, and turning her hand over. It's a gesture that has been familiar for a long time now, but lately the way it effects her seems to have changed. It makes her feel extra warm or something. Nervous. - Chapter 27, middle - because every line that subtly confirms that those guys are crushing on each other makes me giddy

Because she always needs that minute of pause it seems, to re-centre, to come back to earth after a moment with Chloe. Especially one like that. Involving hands and mouths, and Chloe telling her she looks good, which so hadn't been something Beca had been hoping to hear at all. If anyone asks. - Chapter 31, beginning - made me smirk. (see: Beca’s attempts at denial)

Chloe takes the silence with that same exact smile and Beca feels those earlier butterflies return, their wings flapping as though they're rushing through the Great Stomach Migration. She swallows the rest of the glass in an attempt to drown them. - Chapter 34, first half - i’m just such a slut for a funny yet good comparison tbh

'Word vomit' has been a term she's identified with a few times over the years and she feels it now. The acrid after-taste of having said something potentially damaging lingers in the silence that follows and it probably doesn't last that long, but it feels like a lifetime passes before Chloe speaks. - Chapter 34, lower half - never thought about the aftertaste comparison of word vomit and i like it

“I thought she was dead,” Beca manages to whisper through her laughter, once the older woman is definitely out of earshot - Chapter 35, relative beginning - hilarious scene :D

Okay so obviously there were more parts that I liked but during some Chapters I just wasn’t motivated to copy+paste everything. Also; I hope the way I cited the quotes is okay, I didn’t know how else to do it. And finally, sorry for my messy thoughts and maybe incorrect English, I’m not a native speaker but I try 😅

Okay, so. Concluding statement. This story made me feel so many types of good things, not only as a Confused Questioning Gay™ that could relate, but also as a reader and human. I’m in love with this story and your writing style and your three-dimensional characters. Every new chapter is so worth the wait, and I hope you don’t get too much pressure from the angry anons; they don’t deserve you.

Thank you @redlance​ so much for writing this story.

[harimaron]

I have so many opinions right now about this movie and I don’t even know where to start. I feel somehow wronged for forcing myself to sit through it. It did not meet my expectations. It left a really weird aftertaste. I understand what I was supposed to take out of it at the end but here’s my issue with it. I read the book many years ago. I don’t remember much about the book anymore but I do remember really liking it. Some scenes did make me recall some scenes from the book, but. The book was just so much better??? From what I remember??? I just felt really uncomfortable watching for most of the time, whereas I remember enjoying every page of the book. I’m not sure what made me feel uncomfortable even. The age difference? The fact that this kid went to my school so now I feel old but also he looks like a child to me? (I mean, technically...) The parents’ attitude in regards to ... the fact that ... I mean, I know it’s supposed to be a good thing that they acted the way they acted but for some reason I fail to recall whether or not that part was the same in the book version, and also it bugged me because AGE DIFFERENCE. Even if he was one year older I would’ve been okay but like this, nope. I know it’s weird that it bugged me in the movie but not in the book, but again, I don’t remember the parents acting this way in the book. GAH. I am bothered. And just. HHHHHHHHHHHHH. I’m not sure why I have such mixed feelings about it !!!!!!!! I just !! Want to vent about it !! To a wall !!! Okay I’ll stop now.

[gio-hannigram]

Troublesome

I got a lot more of my life without Kuro in it than the little distressing part with him in it.

Kuro wasn’t supposed to be listening. He should have stayed away as Mahiru had told him to. He should have stayed as far away as their bond allowed. Of course he had wanted to apologize, to tell Mahiru he was sorry they didn’t make it to his last exam because of him. He had spent too much time ranting at Kuro to get up and ready so by the time they made it to his class’s door, Mahiru wasn’t allowed in.

I got a lot more of my life without Kuro…

A stab, a knife direct to his heart. Being as old as Kuro was, he had known how the tip of a knife ripping through flesh felt like, he knew very well how its pain felt and yet…

The moment the words registered through his troubled mind he had to cover his mouth to silence the gasp of pain that them evoked. It had been so long since he felt it this way, the first time in centuries it hurt this way.

... little troublesome part with him in it.

distressing part with him in it.

part with him in it

with him in it

with him

with

Mahiru

Kuro whispered, surprised by his own wavering voice. Mahiru’s name leaving a bitter aftertaste.

He stood there, outside of the apartment door, outside of the place he had come to call home. Shaking with his hand in the handle staring back at the surprised eyes of Mahiru. The sun disappeared behind him allowing his human form. Unconsciously Kuro put a hand over his chest.

He couldn’t leave the knife out, he needed to keep it in or the pain would get worst. It was a sensation forcing it down, what kept the knot in his throat from choking him to death, the force containing the pain. As long as he doesn’t let go of the knife he won’t feel the full extent of the pain. His tears won’t fall if he can keep the knife in, he told himself.

Kuro’s body went rigid, he closed the door and carefully of not moving the hand over his heart he walked away.

Step after step after step If he gave enough steps it wouldn't hurt, if he got away enough it wouldn't matter.

Distantly someone called his name, or maybe it was his mind muffling Mahiru’s voice.

Of course he would follow, of course he would try to reach him, but Kuro didn’t want to listen. Whatever apologies that came out at the moment would feel like lies.

Kuro kept walking, tightening the fist of his hoodie over his heart.

Don’t let go of the knife, don’t let go of the knife

The little voice in his mind chanted.

If you let go the world will fall, if you let go tears will fall.

Absently Kuro wondered when he started running only to heard When Mahiru started to. as answer from his own mind.

Mahiru Only a night ago things have been at peace.

And Kuro’s breath hitched as a memory of the two of them playing and Mahiru’s smile flashed through his mind. Fear clawed at his bones at the thought of losing that.

It was not that Sleepy/Oldest/servamp/alive/for/way/too/long/Ash couldn't handle being alone, he spent most of his immortal life that way, he rather prefered it that way but…

Kuro was accustomed to Mahiru.

He loved his time with Mahiru, even if it was a pain. He enjoyed the company, he loved that Mahiru cared, he loved Mahiru’s  loud, enthusiastic and cheerful voice, how full of life Mahiru was.

He loved Mahiru

Oh

That was what was wrong.

Kuro stopped running, and felt his body shiver, as realization hit him.

Never fall in love with your Eve, it only brings pain, for one thing or another, it never ends well.

Hugh’s voice before they held the voting made echo through him. Sleepy Ash had asked what was wrong with the dark pitiful aura that once was the servamp of Greed.

He understood now.

The world crashing on him was by no means something new, he felt it many times, you can not life as long as him without it happening at least a couple of times, and in the big schemes of all things, being in love seemed as a silly, ridiculous even, thing to make drama about. He would roll his eyes if it was someone else, he would close the book if he was reading, change the channel if it was a movie.

Drama for being in love seemed like such a pain that he would never consciously deal with.

The idea itself had always seemed troublesome and tiresome so he had avoided it as much as he could.

But of course Mahiru would change that too.

And of course that falling in love with Mahiru would be as troublesome as the guy himself.

A heavy sigh left his lips as he gave up and fell on the grass, somehow he had made it to the lake under the bridge.

Bright stars shined over him, the light of the full moon made his bell shine in his hand.

One hand on the grass, the other holding his bell.

He had let go but it was not pain what had overwhelmed him, no, it was the tiredness.

Tired of being in pain and fear of losing what he didn't even have.

He was too old, too lonely, too hurt, too angry, and all of the same he felt too tired to feel any of it.

Mahiru regretted picking him up. of course he did.

I wonder what big brother fears most, losing him or how big that fear is?

Tsubaki’s words held a truth too troublesome, too scary and he had refused to deal with it.

What if Mahiru didn’t pick him up? What if it had been a normal cat? What if he had picked a different servamp? What if he was still a normal guy? What if Kuro stopped shaking his life? What if they had meet when Sleepy Ash was still human? What if they had a chance? What if he was different?

What if he didn't have to lose Mahiru? But that was what Mahiru wanted too. What if he didn't want to mess Mahiru's life anymore? What if he left before losing him.

What if...

What if you break the bell?

If does not exist in past it was a way to think of something that was lost, to never be. In future, was a possibility, different paths to a solution.

Kuro could break the bell and everything would end.

The tiredness, the pain, the fear, everything. It would take only a bit of his force and Mahiru would be free, Kuro would be free.

All of them win.

“Don’t break. Kuro, don’t break.” Mahiru’s voice was steady, an order not to defiant; even as he seemed to be fighting to regain his breath.

“You can’t break that which is already broken.” Now he sounded like Lawless, great.

Kuro threw the bell at Mahiru, wondering why he did it.

Mahiru gasped and Kuro remembered the state of the bell, it looked as old as him, with little cracks over, for once he had left Mahiru see the real state of it. The projection of Kuro’s state.

“Look, it’s a misunderstanding, I was telling Sakuya what he thought I should tell you, but that was not, it is not how I feel at all Kuro.” Mahiru’s desperate voice tried to break through the voice telling him to get the bell back and break it in half.

Looking up, Kuro could see him cleaning the bell.

“I was mad, of course I was. But like I was going to tell him before this,” He said gesturing between them and the bell, gesturing to the situation they were in. “That is not how things are, the opposite is the truth!”

“We can break the contract. You can go back to normal. I am the Servamp of Sloth, what happened today, what always happens will keep happening.”

I'll lose you, you'll leave,I rather go before losing you.

“I said no.” Mahiru said stubbornly.

They stared at each other and deep down he wanted to ask, he wanted to know if Mahiru truly didn’t regret.

“I’m glad I picked you that day, that won’t change just because I lost an exam I can take later. We’ll stay together for a long time Kuro.”

It hurt, and now he wanted to know what Mahiru had with hitting him in the forehead with his, really.

“What a pain.” Kuro closed his eyes at Mahiru’s radiant smile. It was brighter than the moon and it was troubling him.

Even knowing that, even seeing Mahiru’s smile, the fact was the same, he was in love with his Eve and it would be a problem, sooner or later. Mahiru after all, was still mortal.

“I can't deal…” Mahiru rolled his eyes as he put the bell back where it belonged. “I can't deal with losing you.” Kuro murmured directly into Mahiru’s ear as he finished closing the collar. 

Mahiru stared into red eyes. “We'll figure something up. You won't get away from me if I have a say on it.”

“Even if I'm...well, me?” Kuro swallowed, uncomfortable with telling him.

“You'll always be a lazy ass, I know.” Mahiru said taking Kuro’s hand. “But don't you dare to think that means I will stop making you do what you have to!"

“So troublesome I could die.” Kuro sighed heavily, tightening his hold in Mahiru's hand as they started to make his way back home.

“I'm really sorry Mahiru.”

“It'll be okay.”

There were still many unsolved things, but looking at Mahiru's tender eyes, sure voice, and the reassuring promise of his smile, Kuro believed him.

They would be okay.

[scripturientsoul-s-blog]

An Avergae High School Love Story

Jordan was just your average cheerleader and Taylor your average quarterback. Since they day their eyes had first lock together in an accidental gaze from across the hallway, they have been as close as close can be. They went to movies together, they went to dinner together, they even went stargazing together. They were not together, however. And though they had a perfectly content friendship, one person wanted that title to change. Drastically. “I wonder if this is really a good idea,” Jordan mumbled, rolling the pencil back and forth between two fingers with eyebrows furrowed in apprehension. Although Jordan has always been rather close to Taylor ever since the athlete had migrated from Texas during their sophomore year, it was not enough for the cheerleader. Sure, Jordan absolutely adored talking to Taylor for hours on end, staring deeply into those brown eyes that twinkled when talking about the American sport played with a pigskin ball, but it left a bittersweet aftertaste inside the senior’s mouth. The teenager simply wanted something more; something to satisfy the insatiable quench inside. However, Taylor was very exceedingly dense, if Jordan wanted to place it in a way that would leave all egos intact. The quarterback was just unable to catch even the boldest of Jordan’s flirtatious hints, when nothing was done to conceal their true intentions. “You know, Taylor, I think you look super hot.” “Yeah, coach made us run ten laps today, and it was ninety degrees outside! Can you believe it?” Jordan really could not. Nevertheless, on this very Tuesday afternoon, Jordan had decided to turn up the heat a few notches to get a certain point across. Taking in a breath of courage to ease the raging nerves, Jordan hastily reaches for the bedazzled cellphone from the lunchroom table and dialed a number that has long since been branded on the inside of the teenager’s mind. “Taylor, I was hoping you could come meet me for lunch? I’m in the cafeteria. Same spot as usual.” After hearing an affirmative from the other end of the line, all Jordan could do now was wait and attempt to quell the butterflies fluttering within. Jordan’s critical fear now, besides rejection, was the cowardice retreat that would reset all the progress put towards this moment. Luckily, it was not a long wait, or that option may have become the chosen path. “You needed me?” Jordan jumped from the uncomfortable chair in fright, though this feeling was only settled somewhat when the cheerleader saw Taylor leaning a toned arm across the mahogany desk, the athlete’s golden locks brushing against broad, sun kissed shoulders. Jordan’s voice hitched and the teenager temporarily forgot how to breathe. “So, you needed me?” The smooth, silky voice drew Jordan away from the trance. “Um...well….you see,” The senior attempted to turn the incoherent stuttering into eloquent conversation, but it ended up as a mutant combination of the pair. Thrusting a sole crimson rose forward, Jordan hastily blurted out the question. “Will you go to prom with me?” Taylor’s eyebrows rose in suspicion. “You want to go to prom. With me?” Irritation and embarrassment boiled up in Jordan’s veins. “That’s what I just said. Look, maybe you should just forget‒” The cheerleader was unable to finished the statement, as two calloused hands enveloped the petite frame and drew Jordan into Taylor’s chest. “You always do this, twisting my words around. Of course I want to go with you, but I would have never thought you would want to go with me. I mean, you're so beautiful and delicate, and I’m just a rugged brute.” “Don’t be stupid, Taylor. I’ve wanted to do this since the moment we met.” The corners of Taylor's mouth drew upwards. “Then I would be honored to go to prom with you, Jordan.” … Palms sweating, heart pounding. Did Jordan look alright? The cheerleader had spent two hours on hair alone, but what if Taylor didn’t like the style? Not to say that Taylor was a shallow person who judged on looks alone, but this was prom. If the teenager couldn’t look prim and proper now, what would Taylor think? That Jordan was a slob? The thought alone sent a chill running up and down the senior’s spine However, when Taylor rung Jordan’s doorbell, grasping the car keys with trembling fingers, the athlete’s mouth hung open in awe. Jordan knew it; the hair was all wrong, the outfit was all wrong, the‒ “You’re absolutely stunning, Jordan.” Jordan locked eyes with Taylor, searching for any polite deceit that the football player might feel obligated to give. “Do you really mean that?” “Yes.” Nothing but honesty. After the ten minute drive to the gymnasium listening to cheesy country love songs (Taylor insisted that this is what ‘quality music’ sounded like and that the techno mumbo-jumbo was just bullcrap), they had finally arrived at the destination of their first official date. Jordan was ecstatic. Taylor was even more perfect than usual to Jordan and treated the cheerleader as royalty. The quarterback held the door for Jordan, got refreshments for Jordan, and stayed by Jordan’s side the entire evening, even when Taylor’s teammates wanted their captain to go out with them to watch a game. It felt like a fairytale dream, and Jordan hoped to never wake up. They were absorbed in a conversation about trivial matters when a magnified voice boomed through the speakers. “Hey Hovland Seniors! If you all gather by the stage, we’ll announce this year’s prom king and queen.” A flash of recognition flare up in Taylor’s eyes. “I hadn’t even thought about prom king and queen!” A smile played on Jordan’s lips as the cheerleader imagined what they would look like in those cheap, plastic crowns. Now intrigued Jordan grabbed Taylor’s hand and pushed through the sea of bodies to get to the front of the gymnasium with just barely enough time to hear the results. “This year’s prom king is...” The man on stage ripped opened the manila envelope. “Our cheer captain, Jordan Ritchell!” Jordan’s feet felt frozen in place until Taylor gave him a firm shove from behind. “Go on, get on stage!” Cautiously placing one foot in front of the other in an attempt to not stumble in front of the entire student body, Jordan eventually found his way onto the stage. As he looked into the roaring crowd, the glaring spotlights cause his vision to temporarily become blotched. They only thing he could distinctly make out was two brown eyes, peering up at him with nothing short of admiration. “And this year's prom queen is…” Jordan drew in a sharp breath. “Our quarterback, Taylor McCay.” The force of the applause caused the floor to rumble as Taylor all but ran up the stage, almost tripping over the third step. She did not rush to the announcer’s side to receive her tiara, but instead came immediately to Jordan. She grasped his hand and intertwined their fingers together. “Taylor? What are you doing, you need to‒” Warmth. This was the first though that fluttered through Jordan’s mind. Taylor’s lips were pressed against his. Taylor was kissing him. Taylor moved away and pulled Jordan’s head towards her shoulder in an embrace. Her breath gently caressed his ear as she whispered, “I love you, King Jordan Ritchell.” The confession Jordan made next was not spoken with his vocal chords; it was spoken with his heart. “I love you too, my queen.” ... As you can see, there was nothing out of the ordinary when it came to this love stricken couple. Jordan, he was just your average cheerleader and Taylor, she was just your average quarterback.