#this week's theme? saints apparently

[muppetjohntavares]

Putting someone on a pedestal is the first step toward watching them fall

(Journal 1970-1986 by Andrei Tarkovsky / Picture credit to Claus Andersen, Toronto Star, Kevin Sousa, Icon Sportswire)

[jo-harrington]

Standard Operating Procedures 1.06 (Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie’s your boyfriend. Now what?

Previous Part: Disaster Preparedness

Warnings/Themes: AU where the Upside Down doesn't terrorize Hawkins. Reader works at the Claire's at StarCourt. Eddie works at TapeWorld. First Dates and silliness, Sickeningly sweet fluff, miscommunication (not in a bad way), sexual tension, smut, allusion to oral sex, PinV Sex

Note: Here we go guys, the penultimate installment of SMVerse. We only have the finale to go. It's been a wild ride, I'm both ready to move on and give my other stories their attention, and also a little bit loathe to let my babies go. They can always make their little appearances in one-shots in the future if I need them back.

Thank you to @deathbecomesthem and @courtingchaos for looking over a few little things. Your insight is always appreciated.

You can find my masterlist here for more featuring our resident Store Manager and all of my other writing.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

"Do I show up with flowers?"

"Flowers?"

"What's that voice, you don't like flowers?"

"Not really."

How you got to become friends with Steve Harrington, you couldn't tell for sure. One day, he was just a frantic customer running around in a Scoops Ahoy sailor uniform worrying about cherry chapstick, and then suddenly he was sitting in your store once a week looking for relationship advice.

Like today, as he tried to figure out plans to win back his ex.

Or something like that.

It was hard to tell with Steve. Oftentimes you got a half-finished story, as though you were some omniscient being that was supposed to know the other parts already. Sometimes he'd be an apt listener with the patience of a saint as you gave him whatever advice you could, and sometimes, he would go off on a one-sided tangent, and thank you for something that you didn't even know had come out of your mouth.

He reminded you of Jimmy a lot, which was why you were as patient with him as you were.

It was fine; it was a Thursday in January and the holidays were over, that meant the mall was dead. You'd hadn't had a single customer yet and a mountain of shipment to process. He could stay as long as he wanted, as long as he kept bringing cookies as payment.

"Everyone likes flowers," Steve argued skeptically after a moment of contemplation. "You're telling me Munson hasn't gotten you roses or something?"

Speak of the devil...

The shop bell rang, a chain rattled, and leather squeaked, and before you could answer, your boyfriend--you were still giddy referring to him like that in your head--himself chimed in.

"If I was a jealous man," he started with an exaggerated glare at Steve. "I would say you're here flirting with my girlfriend."

You rolled your eyes at his antics and crossed your arms over your chest, both Steve and your menial tasks forgotten momentarily, but you giggled nonetheless.

"What are you doing here?" you asked. "Don't you have school?"

"I came to ask you a very important question," Eddie smiled conspiratorially. "But imagine my surprise when someone else is sitting in my spot."

"It's not your spot. And I'm giving him advice."

"Again?"

"He's hopeless, apparently."

"I'm right here," Steve exclaimed and got to his feet, ready to leave. "I didn't come here to be made fun of. I actually need help."

You were about to deliver a snarky remark to your friend when Eddie held a hand out towards you and led Steve out of the store.

The shop bell rang again and you sighed, lamenting your conversion for the millionth time.

You'd just bully Eddie into buying something small.

After a short time, Eddie returned to the store and approached you with a smug smile on his face.

"What?" you asked.

"Oh, nothing," he replied nonchalantly. "Just playing Cupid, that's all."

"Look at you, hopeless romantic." You opened another box and gleefully picked up a little purple jewelry carding that proudly displayed fuzzy red heart studs. You held them up to Eddie's face and squinted one eye.

"What are you doing?"

"Valentine's Day is coming up," you explained. "Trying to see if my resident Cupid here would look cute in heart earrings."

He slapped your hand away and chuckled.

"You know I would," he teased and then fluttered his lashes at you coquettishly.

"Does that mean you're finally gonna let me pierce your ears?"

"Mmmm, does Claire's have a lobotomy option I could consider first? Maybe next time, sweetheart."

"I knew you hated needles," you shot him a teasing glare. "Alright, why did you skip school today? Spill. What is this very important question you wanted to ask me?"

Eddie shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket and rocked on the toes of his boots, then began pacing around nervously. Which made you nervous in turn.

"You know, you just mentioned Valentine's Day," he began. "And...actually yeah, they're starting to talk about a Valentine's dance at school. It's corny, they always do it. Paper hearts and cherry punch and sugar cookies and bad love songs.

“And the guys were asking if I was gonna ask you. Well, Henderson more than anyone. I think he has a crush on you if I'm being honest, even though he insists that he has a girlfriend in Salt Lake City, do you believe that? Little liar. Isn’t the whole bit that the fake girlfriend lives in Canad—”

"Eddie," you snapped him out of his tangent with a laugh, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach. "Are you asking me to the dance right now?"

Ok, a high school dance...wasn't exactly your idea of a good time but...the idea was a bit of a novelty. They didn't have dances like that at your very Catholic, very-all-girls high school. Even prom with the neighboring boys school was...modest dresses and suits and a nice dinner at a banquet hall. No real fun, no real dancing.

Last time you really even danced with someone was at a party Jen dragged you to and then you ended up in a heated makeout session that maybe went a little too far. And wasn't remarkable.

To go to a school dance with Eddie...that would be so sweet and fun. A do over for some non-existent or downright mediocre experiences.

"No, I'm not actually."

Never mind then.

"But it reminded me," he abruptly turned to face you. "That we haven't gone out on an actual date yet."

"Wh...Eddie what do you mean?" you scoffed. "Did you hit your head? We went out on Christmas Eve. Dinner at Benny's."

Eddie had picked you up for work with a thermos of hot coffee that day, you both worked until the mall closed, and then went straight to the diner. The jukebox played Christmas carols only and Ben had two special holiday prix fixe meals: a classic Pot Roast dinner and then one with a little more Benny’s flair—Christmas Dinner style omelettes, candied yam hash browns, and hot cocoa with peppermint whipped cream. You and Eddie ordered one of each and shared.

But you were both so tired that you didn't even talk; you just sat on the same side of the booth snuggled against each other, dozing off and picking at your food until Benny came to wake you both up when he was ready to close.

When Eddie dropped you back off at home, it started snowing right when you kissed goodbye. It was the perfect date.

"I've decided that it isn't our first date," he announced.

"And why is that?"

"Because we didn't even say anything but 'fuck that guy wanting to make a return on Christmas' and 'pass the salt.'"

"You also realize that we've been going out every Sunday since last..." you paused briefly to think back. "May? First week of June?"

"Those don't count either," he shook his head resolutely. "In fact those were specifically not dates."

Funny, that’s how you always thought of them too.

You were about to give in and agree, about to tell him "whatever you say Eddie." He did make a good point and it wasn't like he was calling your relationship off, he just wanted another chance at a first date. What was the harm in that?

But he beat you to the punch, suddenly nervous under your scrutiny.

"Listen, I know it's silly," he crossed his arms over his torso and shrugged. "I just...want to get it right. Make you dinner, see a movie, I know you just told Harrington you don't like flowers but...a bouquet of cookies or something?" He reached over and flicked the bag of cookies on the ear piercing station. "Make you a mixtape, I dunno."

"You made me a mixtape already, Ed."

"Yeah but I want to give you the kind of mixtape a guy makes for his girl."

You melted at his words and fought the smile that threatened to bloom on your lips and butterflies that suddenly fluttered in your stomach.

"And what's on that one that's not on the other one?" you teased, intentionally obtuse.

"You know...ballads and...sappy love songs and..." He froze and you watched as he flushed prettily. "You're making fun of me."

"It's really fun to do," you told him matter-of-factly.

Eddie ran a hand over his mouth and then looked around. He leaned back to glance out into the mall, and then faster than you could react, he ran right up to you, cupped your face in his hands and smooshed his lips to yours in a kiss. You dropped the jewelry you were holding and covered his hands with yours; you took two little steps to get as close to him as you could, and sighed as he broke away to continue pecking at your lips between his words.

"You're a menace." Peck. "You're a trickster." Peck. "And I'm picking you up for a real date." Peck. "Our official first date." Peck. "On Sunday."

You were joined together once again and he paid special attention to your lower lip, sucking on it in a way that made your spine tingle.

"Hmmm," you pulled away, trying to ignore the heat that was overtaking your body. You were still at work, after all. "Sunday huh? I thought Sundays didn't count."

"Well they count starting now." He stole another peck and then backed out of the store. "You have a great day, sweetheart. See you later."

---

Everyone teased you for your entire shift on Sunday.

Mindy was the first, having already unlocked the gate and counted up the registers for store open.

"Oh lookie here," she whistled. "Miss Lovebird is all dressed up for her date with the wannabe-rockstar."

You did a little spin and a pose for her; not dressed in your Seventeen Magazine best, but something a little more comfortable--still a dress, just a little more you--so you wouldn't have to frantically change for your date.

Chrissy offered to do your makeup on break and then confessed that she had a first date fast approaching too.

"No more Jason?" you asked, trying not to sound too hopeful as she swiped eyeshadow on.

"No, he was kind of..." she sighed. "He wasn't what I thought he'd be like as a boyfriend. I don't think I would've had the courage to end things and go after someone I really liked if I didn't work here though. I've...gained a lot of confidence since being here."

"I'm glad," you beamed at her.

Stacey even apologized for all the jokes she'd made about Eddie before she left at the end of her shift.

"I know I give him a lot of shit, but Munson's actually alright," she sniffed uncomfortably, as though complimenting him was something she was allergic to. "That thing he did at Christmas...the Santa thing? That was really sweet."

"Yeah it was."

Finally, 6pm rolled around and the gates closed. The rest of your team went home and you were left counting down the registers in anticipation as Mindy gave you a talk very reminiscent of the Birds and the Bees that your parents gave you once upon a time.

Before you knew it, Eddie was standing outside with his hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket, and you flashed him a quick "five" to let him know you wouldn't be long.

"Ok listen," Mindy got real close to you know, hand on your shoulder, lips close to your ear as she whispered. "If you guys wanna do the ol' Horizontal Tango tonight--"

"What are you 75?"

"--at the very least do it in a bed and not the back of his van, ok?"

"I swear to god," you mumbled under your breath.

"Invite him back to your place. Light a candle. Ambience. Make sure you have condoms."

"Melinda!"

She started cackling.

"I mean, I guess you don't have to have--

"Utter one more word and you're fired," you pointed at her threateningly.

Mindy immediately held her hands up innocently and then dragged her fingers across her lips like a zipper.

As you finished counting down the registers though, you wondered if you'd only shut her up because she was crossing a line...or if it was because she was actually really good at reading the secret expectations that you may or may not have had for this date.

It was just a first date, nothing was gonna happen. You could think about all of that next time. But…what if…

The store suddenly became unbearably warm.

Before long, the two of you ducked under the gate and Mindy simply waved goodbye while holding back her laughter as Eddie approached you.

"What was that?" he asked, thumbing over his shoulder at her. "Everything ok?"

"She thought she was being funny, but instead she's just an asshole," you explained, trying to laugh off the awkward conversation and illicit thoughts that still lingered in your mind.

"Ah," he nodded slowly, his eyes squinted for a moment and you swore you saw the gears turn in his head. "Yeah...Kyle did the same thing for me too. You remember when I found out the kids had a bet against us? Apparently the whole team had a secret bet going too.”

"And Kyle won?" you questioned eagerly, glad for a change of topic.

"No, Paulie. But P gave me a cut, thanked me for being such a stick in the mud and holding out as long as I did."

"How much?"

"Fifty bucks," he pulled a roll of bills from his pocket. "Gave it to me today and told me to take you someplace nice. Which was the plan anyway, if you were wondering."

The two of you stood there awkwardly for a second before Eddie cleared his throat.

"You look nice sweetheart," he said with a nervous smile.

"Thanks, so do you."

And he did.

He had his leather jacket over a fitted forest green henley, with ripped black jeans and boots. You'd never considered green to be such a favorable color on him, his usual outfits consisting of blacks and reds and the occasional blue, but it was dashing. Brought out the glowing warmth of his eyes, the tiny honeyed flecks that often got lost in chocolate depths.

"I, uh, have something for you," he announced, fishing something out of his pocket. "I didn't have time to do a new mixtape, so you'll have to take an IOU for it. This...might be a little cheesy... but...well, close your eyes."

You followed his instruction and felt him grab your hands and lift them up. He positioned them just so, and then left you standing there as he prepped whatever your gift was.

"It's not my usual thing," he muttered as he fumbled with what-sounded-like a rustle of paper. "But the guys helped me clean out the van--"

"You cleaned the van?" you scoffed. "For me? Eddie I've been in your van before."

"Hey listen," he suddenly sounded offended. "First date and such, you deserve the best."

"I like the clutter in your van," you told him truthfully.

"Listen, if I hadn't cleaned it out I would've never been able to gift you with this, the Mirror of Galadriel. Well it's more like a hand mirror. Hey no peeking!"

He continued telling you about the way Lucas and Will, crafty as they were, helped him make this little surprise during the break of their Friday night session of Hellfire.

"Apparently Sinclair's little sister and her friends make these for each other, and he's helped them. Which, ask me to paint minis for DnD any day; this shit was hard. There. Open your eyes now."

He slipped something over the tips of your fingers and when you opened them you found...

"A cootie catcher?" You asked with a laugh. "Eddie..."

You were about to ask what the deal was when you noticed it wasn't just a folded piece of paper littered with numbers and words, but taped and glued together with bits of familiar papers.

You brought it closer to your face for further inspection, flexing your fingers this way and that to see the bits folded inside.

Was that the logo from Pizzeria Uno? And...a movie ticket?

"Eddie...what...?"

"Ok, it's not just garbage," he assured you. "I know I don't really clean out my van that often. Shit, there was homework in there that I was supposed to turn in last year. No wonder I had to repeat again. But I guess I never realized that after our not-dates, I sort of left a few things in the glovebox or emptied my pockets in the back to throw out later.

"This...this is from our first outing for pizza. And when we went to see Day of the Dead. I cut up the order form when you paid the last installment on Sweetheart. And this? The menu from that one takeout place we ordered from? That night when...you know...before we went to Chicago? A-and a Chef Boyardee label. Y'know from that one time we ate dinner at your place? Well, actually, I don't think it's from that night.

"I-I know, I'm a walking contradiction," he concluded with a laugh. "I said that this was gonna be our first official date and here I am with a reminder of all the times we weren't dating but...I guess I figured...our times together as friends are just as important as any date. So now that...you're actually my girlfriend, I needed you to know you'll still always be my best friend too."

You felt your eyes water and your heart pound in your chest.

"Do you like it?" he asked nervously.

"It's only," you let out a watery laugh. "Only the best gift I've ever gotten."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"Not even the Boston cassette I got you?"

"Not even that," you shook your head. "Seriously Eddie...it's perfect."

All you wanted in that moment right there was to kiss him.

And you would have, but the lights in the mall concourse dimmed, signaling customer hours were over and that everyone needed to leave.

"You ready?" he backed away from you and held his hand out, fingers wiggling and eager to twine with yours. You gladly took it, expecting to hold his hand as you walked out towards the employee lot, but he surprised you by twirling you in a circle. He spun you into him, tucked against his side, and draped his arm across your shoulder.

You were sure it was gonna be a perfect night. Again.

Because he was perfect.

---

Turns out the Cootie Catcher wasn't just a gift with little mementos of your friendship, it was the means of which the two of you would decide the fate of your date night.

"I'll pick first," he explained. "And then you pick next ok? You just gotta trust me on this."

Throughout the night you both picked numbers and pinched the corners of the cootie catcher back and forth, back and forth, until you came up with the next activity you would embark on.

"Dinner at...the Hideaway," you read the first outcome that had come up. "The Hideaway? I thought it was the Hideout."

"No, they're two different places," Eddie explained. "Damn, you've almost lived in Hawkins for a year now and you still don't know? I'm a really bad Welcome Committee."

Turns out the Hideaway was a sports bar on the outskirts of town. The bar itself was a little crowded with patrons drinking beers and watching football on the twin tv's that were mounted overhead, but there was a tiny little dining room off to the side that was practically empty.

As you scanned the menu, your eyes immediately caught a glimpse of The Wayne under the sandwich header.

"Wayne as in...Uncle Wayne?" you asked with a laugh, and Eddie couldn't have looked any prouder if he tried.

"Yup," he puffed out his chest. "Nothing amazing ever happens in Hawkins, but if you can guess the Super Bowl winner accurately at the beginning of the season for 5 years in a row, you get a sandwich named after you at a bar."

"Shut up," you laughed. "He did not."

"Swear on my mother's grave," Eddie leaned forward and challenged you.

You both ended up ordering the Wayne, and Eddie spent most of dinner telling you Wayne's Scientific Method to choosing the winners, and then the way the winning streak broke.

"He put twenty dollars in a pool at the plant," he explained. "Figured he'd been guessing right at the Hideaway for so long without getting anything more than a free dinner out of it, he might as well try to win a little cash. Turns out fate only meant for him to win a hearty chicken dinner and nothing more, so he didn't try to tempt the Gods again lest he incur their wrath."

The sandwich was delicious, the company even better. And you held hands across the table pretty much the entire time.

---

Back and forth, back and forth the cootie catcher went, and you groaned when you saw the outcome.

Bowling.

"I'm not good at it Eddie," you tried to persuade him to choose again. "I'm gonna embarrass myself."

"Too bad, I'm not good at it either. We'll both look like idiots together."

"I'm wearing a dress Eddie."

"This is our destiny!" He exclaimed with a tone of finality, hand on the gearshift to put the van into drive. "And before you try to fight me on it, I'll even let my chivalry take a hit and let you pay for the first round of beer."

Knowing that a win was a win, you agreed.

Reluctantly.

The Roane County Bowlarama was something out of a time capsule, though, and that in and of itself was a novelty. Casino carpet and funky modular chairs and a neon light that sat over the pristinely waxed hardwood lanes in a very kitschy style that proudly advertised the Bowlarama's foundation in 1960.

It certainly smelled like nostalgia in here.

Eddie went to get your shoes while you meandered to the little concessions counter to get two solo cups of cheap beer and a soft pretzel with plastic cheese for the two of you to share.

As you got your score cards written up, you confided in Eddie that the only time you'd ever been bowling was for a birthday party for a classmate when you were in the 7th grade.

He just laughed and told you it had been the same for him too.

He pointed down to one of the lanes where a family was happily bowling with their two small children.

"If you go over there, I'm sure you'll still see the dent in the floor where I dropped the ball," he whispered. "It was too heavy and I went to go bowl and it dropped out of my hand and almost cracked the hardwood. And I vowed never again."

"Then why did you put it on the Cootie Catcher?" you asked incredulously.

"Well, we've gotta look stupid in front of each other sometime, right?" he reasoned.

“As though we haven’t done that already.” You shook your head. "Eddie Munson, you are something else."

"I know." He bowed proudly and then went to take his turn.

At the end of ten frames, you turned in your scorecards and your shoes at the counter, all the while snickering as the attendant read out your abysmal scores.

You'd beaten Eddie, sure...but it wasn't hard to beat a zero.

Was he really that bad at bowling or had he let you win? You’d never know.

---

It had been a great night but it was getting late by the time you got back out to the van.

Normally, you wouldn't mind a longer Sunday night out with Eddie, even if you had work and he had school in the morning. Honestly, you couldn't quite give a shit if you were tired for a Monday morning call with your boss or to unpack shipment boxes.

Still, you stopped Eddie before he could fish the Cootie Catcher out of the cupholder on the console.

"What's wrong?" he frowned. "You getting tired? Too tired for a late night snack? I put Dairy Queen for ice cream and Bradley's for a mystery snack adventure as options."

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, trying to entice you into letting fate take you once again.

The thing was...ending the night wasn't really the thought on your mind. It had been a great night out, reminiscent of those few early Sunday nights, cruising around Hawkins and finding someplace new you hadn't been yet.

But part of the fun of some other not dates with Eddie were the times you got to spend alone. Even recently, as you started cuddling and making out on the couch or stealing kisses in the food court at the little table hidden closer to the JCPenney entrance while sharing cheese fries, it was the intimacy and closeness you cherished. Those times spent together were spent in a world just for the two of you.

And as the night went on and you came to that realization, Mindy's words echoed through your head: Horizontal Tango.

God, ok, that was not the way you wanted to think of it, but it did get your mind on that night. The last time things had started getting heated between the two of you, the night you thought everything had been ruined before you both realized that there were some actual feelings deeper than friendship there.

That had been...nice.

Sure you'd been high, but laughing and groping and kissing and grinding...

Yeah it was more fun to do all of that with someone than to take care of things on your own with your imagination or one of the bodice rippers you secretly bought at Waldenbooks at your disposal.

One of the bodice-rippers with a love interest that your brain had started to fill in with a certain metalhead that was your then-crush and now-boyfriend.

Suddenly the more you thought about it--actively thought about it--sitting here in the van with Eddie, surrounded by the scent of his cigarettes and his Old Spice cologne, having just had probably the best date you could ask for...you realized that you wanted more too. With him.

More than a quick fuck at a party or a romp on a couch.

You wanted Eddie.

First date be damned.

"Sweetheart?" Eddie pulled you from your thoughts. "We can call it if you want. If you're too tired to drive, I can take you home now and...I'll pick you up for work tomorrow before I go to class."

"Uh." You worried your bottom lip, at a loss for words, as your hand still gripped the top of his over the center console. He was being so kind, so chivalrous, so thoughtful with this whole date, all of these sweet plans...you didn’t want to undercut the effort he’d put in.

How did one just ask their boyfriend to have sex with them?

"Do you wanna have sex?"

The words escaped your mouth as though you were on autopilot, and both you and Eddie stared at each other dumbfounded as the question hung heavily between you.

Well that was one way to do it.

"Wha...whe...like? Here? Now?" He stared at you wide-eyed as he questioned. There was a beat and then he shook his head and stared down at your hands in silence.

What you wouldn't have given at that very moment to hear the thoughts that were clearly racing through his head, as he visibly tried to compute the situation you were both in.

You felt your chest get tighter and your heart raced.

See? First date, no fooling around. You should have trusted your instincts.

"I mean...yes,” Eddie finally blurted out. “But it wasn’t on the cootie catcher.”

It was silent for another moment, then you both broke down in hysterical laughter.

Unintelligible words were shared as you both relived the last few tense moments with intense clarity—basking in the silliness that could only be shared between the two of you—and then you both seemed to have a lightbulb moment. Eddie turned in his seat to grab something from the back of the van while you dug for something in your bag.

It was a race to see who could get there first, and Eddie won as he fell back into the driver's seat with a sharpie held in the air like his ultimate prized possession. You abandoned your own search and began carefully unfolding the cootie catcher and before long, on the inner most flaps, new adventures for the night were written.

Blizzards at DQ was soon scribbled out in favor of Your Place.

And Mystery Snacks from Bradley’s replaced by My Place.

Eddie started situating the fortune teller over the tips of his fingers when you grabbed his wrist.

“What if we don’t end up getting either place?” You asked a little stupidly.

“Well then I guess we’re gonna head to the civic center and play Boggle with Gareth’s mom and dad, Sweetheart,” he snarked. “Pick a number.”

Back and forth the cootie catcher went as you called out numbers.

Until Your Place sat proudly on display between you.

“Alright then,” Eddie placed the cootie catcher back into the cup holder and then clapped his hands. “Your place it is.”

---

For as bold as you both had been in the van, it was unexpectedly awkward when you got into your apartment.

It was a moment of being in a place you'd both been a hundred times together before, but the implication of why you were there made it difficult to simply begin.

You both ended up on the couch for a while, watching some late night reruns and sharing a pint of Rum Raisin until you were calm and comfortable enough to share tentative kisses and touches in front of the glow of the tv.

"This isn't..." Eddie chuckled when you found yourself horizontal on the couch and he kissed his way down your neck and across your décolletage. "This isn't like a porno."

You both broke down in laughter again and he admitted that that thought had been on his mind all night, along with the possibility that this would be waiting for the two of you at the end of the date.

"I had that thought," he continued once the laughter had subsided. "Last time we were like this. That's...do you remember I...god did I honk your boob?"

"You did," you remembered fondly, even though the outcome of that encounter was anything but a fond memory.

"I think that's why I did it," he ran a finger along the neckline of your dress, which caused goosebumps to erupt along your arms as you shivered with anticipation. "I don't need to be anything with you except myself. I don't have to be the...hot boyfriend or the hunky pizza guy or anything. I'm just me, and you're just you."

"You can't make me cry before we fuck," you told him matter-of-factly, and dragged him back up so you could kiss him again.

"Actually," he broke away again and his brows shot up into his bangs. "That's another kind of porno. We can add that to the list for next time ok?"

That set the pace and the expectation for the rest of the night: intimate moments punctuated by words and laughter.

There was no rush, so you took your time to explore one another's bodies. You moved from the couch to the bed and clothes came off one piece at a time, including socks which both of you agreed was the least seductive piece of clothing to remove.

"But I did read about this thing with tights once," you bit your lip in too-little-too-late realization, after you'd chucked your pantyhose into the corner of your bedroom. "It was kind of hot."

"I'm making notes," Eddie tapped his temple twice. "Don't worry. Next time."

And if you ever had the impression that Eddie was a bad student, all of that doubt vanished because he was incredibly studious when it came to your body. Both of you were as you licked and kissed and groped. You took the time to find spots that were sensitive or ticklish, that generated moans or giggles.

Boy, did you find out how much he liked to giggle.

You traced along the hazy ink of his tattoos with the tip of your tongue, in awe of the imagination that he'd put into each piece of artwork permanently etched on his body as he stammered out a brief story of each one. He told you about something he wanted along his ribcage, and when you went to kiss along the proposed path, he burst into a fit of laughter that almost rocketed him off the bed.

Soon there were more panting breaths than breathy laughter. As Eddie took his time worshipping you, committing every dip and curve and crease of you to memory--just like all the other things that he seemed to take note of--and the way you hiccuped and moaned as he lavished you with attention.

You both became teachers, showing one another just how you found pleasure alone--Eddie quick to admit that his solitary ministrations might have been done to the thought of you--before tonight. You were both happy to oblige each other's desires with your hands and mouths.

You quickly realized how much you liked the way that he stuttered your name as you suckled the head of his cock, and he seemed to take that as a challenge when he kissed and sucked your clit in return, the first partner you'd ever had to think to do so and not just fumble with zero thought or coordination.

"I'm a sex god," he boasted, chin resting smugly on your mound after you'd finished riding the crest of your first orgasm. "What can I say?"

"You're so full of it," you scoffed. "But you can say whatever you want if you just promise me you'll do that again."

"Oooh, gonna especially take note of that one," he said mischievously as he walked his fingers up the length of your body and then took your hand in his, both of you ready for the pièce de résistance of the night.

It was a lazy kind of fucking, even though the two of you were as wound up as you were; however, considering that you'd both had an entire day of work and then a lengthy date and foreplay, neither of you could complain.

You could have headboard-banging, heart rate-climbing, frenzied, nasty sex anytime you wanted for however long you'd be together.

"Hopefully forever," Eddie whispered against your mouth after you'd reassured him of just that, as he sank into you and realized that he was more comfortable in the cradle of your arms and thighs than stiffly knelt above you. "You promise?"

"Hopeless romantic," you muttered in return. You moaned as he slowly bucked into you and created a delicious drag of his fingers on your clit again. "But yeah, I promise."

There were very few words after that, just sounds. Pants and sighs and sucking kisses; a few swears as you both found the peaks of your pleasure, and finally an "is there any more of that ice cream" once Eddie collapsed beside you when it was all over.

You both couldn't help but brag how great it had all been come morning, when he drove you back to the mall for work.

Or when you showed up at his place the following night to do it all over again.

Next Chapter: Longevity

[spooky-bunnys]

another taiju request cause I just found out something and i had this idea. So it’s canon that taiju likes sharks so imagine the reader one day showing up to his house and says he bought something special for him and go to change real quick and taiju is probably thinking something else but when the the reader walks out he’s in this cute shark onesie and starts acting like a shark and says “but that’s not all look” and pulls out a shark onesie for taiju and maybe Hakkai and yuzuha come home to see the reader and taiju acting like sharks while wearing the shark onesie and taiju start playfully chasing Hakkai while the reader is playing the jaws theme in the background

Meanwhile yuzuha is secretly recording this beautiful moment

Sorry it's so short and not exactly what you wanted. I'm writing Draken's Brother part 5. Haitani Baby Brother part 3. I'm also writing the D.L x V.K. crossover. And I'm trying to write something special for having 200 followers. But i hope you Enjoy!

Shark Attack

Taiju x Male Reader

When (Name) texted Taiju he had a surprise waiting for him at home. Yhe Black Dragons could tell their boss was excited. He was constantly checking the time on his phone. Since (Name) had gone shopping with his younger siblings. So he was excited to see what (Name) had gotten him. He wasn't going to lie. He hopes it's something "special".

His phone buzzed and Taiju almost fell over trying to get his phone out of his pocket. The gang members all sweatdropped. This was their mighty leader? When he saw it was a text from (Name) informing him they were home. The members had never seen their boss run so fast. "He does remember we have a meeting in like an hour right?" Kokonoi asked looking at his best friend who shrugged.

"He left with a smile. (Name) probably has something to do with it." Inui replied looking back at him. Kokonoi cringed. "Hey that's my cousin! I don't want to know what they're up to like that." The look of disgust and the shiver Kokonoi had as enough to explain his answer. He'd walked in on them too many times.

I mean how else are you supposed to react when you find out your cousin is EXTREMELY flexible. By walking in on your boss blowing your cousins back out on his kitchen counter. Please Kokonoi never wanted to see something like that again. But did when he got invite to swim at (Name)'s house and found his cousin preaching Taiju's name like he was a Saint in the hot tub!

Back with Taiju who had just pulled into the drive way of his and (Name)'s house. He turned off his bike and made his way inside. Expecting an empty house for his surprise but only to see both of his younger siblings playing what he guessed was a new game (Name) probably got Hakki. "I'm home" He called out. The two siblings barely looked away from the TV answering with a quiet "Welcome home."

(Name) came out of the kitchen with a new apron on. Considering Taiju ripped the other one off him last week. Taiju cringed remembering the smack and lecture he got for destroying the apron which apparently was a birthday gift from his siblings. "Babe! I wasn't expecting you to be home so soon! Don't you have a meeting soon?"

Taiju shrugged. If it meant spending more time with his (Name) he didn't care about some meeting. Inui and Kokonoi can take care of it. "I got your message that you had a surprise for me?" (Name)'s face lit up and he squealed kissing Taiju's cheek before running upstairs. Taiju confused smiled loving how happy (Name) seems to be.

It didn't take long for (Name) to return. Taiju was expecting a revealing outfit. Like maybe a crop top and those shorts Taiju has been trying to convince (Name) to get. But no. (Name) came hopping down the stairs in a full suit. A full shark onesie. Taiju froze staring at him. (Name) giggled catching his attention. "That's not all~" (Name) pulled from behind his back an even bigger shark onesie. Taiju smirked widely. God does he love him.

Bouns:

(Name): *playing jaws music from his phone*

Hakki: *running away with tear filled eyes*

Taiju: *chasing after Hakki in the shark onesie* I'm gonna eat you!

Yuzuha: *recording to sent to Kokonoi and Mitsuya*

[owletstarlet]

patron saint of the lost causes (1/2)

“You can stop looking at him like that.” Taki’s voice is frank, but not unkind. Katsumi could not be less in the mood for whatever the hell kind of conversation this is about to be. “Like what,” he replies anyhow. “Like you broke his best friend."

(For @goodlucktai. You know what you did.

ao3 link | part 2

The thing is, Katsumi really doesn’t want to hear that he couldn’t have known what was going to happen. He knows. Knows because nobody will let him forget it. Knows from his 2AM search history the night after, curled up on his side on a guest futon in the Fujiwaras’ sitting room, feeling pinned down by the blue glow of his phone screen under the duvet.

Here’s how it happens.

***

It’s not that it’s uncomfortable, exactly, to be alone with Tanuma Kaname while walking the forty-five minute round trip between the temple and the combini through nothing but trees and rice paddies and still, thick summer air. Tanuma’s a decent guy. Quiet, thoughtful. And, as he’d made very clear within two minutes of Katsumi meeting him, fiercely loyal.

All good traits, really. But carrying a completely meaningless conversation with someone he honestly doesn’t know all that well doesn’t seem to be within his skill set. And that’s fine, it’s whatever.

It’s just that Katsumi’s starting to feel like a jackass when he’s the only one who’s talking.

School’s been out less than a week, and for some godforsaken reason he’s been talked into coming all the way out to Hitoyoshi by the group chat he’d been added to months ago, for some other godforsaken reason. The conversation had turned to potential vacation plans—the seaside, or a theme park. And it’s not like Katsumi would’ve said no; he’s got a whole month to fill here. But when Tanuma had either hedged or failed to respond altogether, the others had gotten it out of him pretty quickly that the better part of the month both before and after Obon would be full up with temple preparation and events. Apparently, even back when the temple had still stood vacant, some of the locals who had ancestors’ graves out in the crumbling cemetery there would still come out to tidy up as best they could and leave behind their flowers and incense and prayers. This is the second Obon since the temple had reopened, and not only were more visitors expected, but they’d need to be able to properly host them and provide an adequate place of worship.

From just that couple of messages, the others seemed to work out in short order just how overwhelmed he was. Which was news to Katsumi; sure, the guy wasn’t much of a texter, or talker, for that matter—but the messages had just seemed brief, concise, and apologetic.

But when they all show up on the temple doorstep a week later and Katsumi sees the way Tanuma’s shoulders sag with sheer relief, he knows the others were right.

Thus began a multi-day frenzy of scrubbing wood floors, polishing every metal surface within an inch of its life, weeding, dusting, and near-vicious refusals of Tanuma’s father’s offers to compensate them for their efforts. Katsumi certainly wasn’t against the concept of getting paid for busting his ass like this all day, but the man was drowning in paperwork and nonstop phone calls and visitations on top of whatever else it is that priests do all day, so he’d let it drop.

“He really does just radiate that dutiful son energy, huh,” Katsumi says to Kitamoto one day, leaning on a rake and blinking the sweat out of his eyes in the brutal 2PM heat, watching Tanuma pause to tug a crooked, bright red knit cap back into its place on the head of a tiny Jizo statue with endless care. He didn’t mean it as an insult, but it sounds kind of dickish coming out of his mouth anyhow. “Just looking at him is making me tired.”

Kitamoto hums. “That’s part of it,” he says, at length. “But this is his home, too.”

***

Katsumi feels sort of bad that Tanuma has to make this annoyingly long walk just because he himself doesn’t know how to get to the nearest Lawson. He’d lost a fierce, best-of-ten coin flip battle with Nishimura over whose turn it was to pick up snacks. It’s not that it’s a nightmarish distance away considering they’re on the bare outskirts of town, it’s just the late afternoon sun beating down on them that makes him ready to commit  homicide. And most of the way there between the wooded temple grounds and the main residential area is along a dusty gravel road between sunken rice fields, riddled with potholes and not especially worth it to navigate with a bike.

And Lawson isn’t even good.

Precisely none of this is Tanuma’s fault. This is an objective fact that he, of course, knows.

But they’ve only just left the store, and Katsumi ran out of random topics to fill up the stagnant air about ten minutes ago. The best he’s got at the moment, short of intermittent bitching about the heat, is his completely unfounded opinion of some new game he’d seen an ad for at the register which he never intends to play.

And Tanuma doesn’t look especially anxious, or at least not like he’s here under duress or anything—he was the one who volunteered to show Katsumi the way— but he doesn’t look especially comfortable, either. He’s already fished a bottle of tea out of the shopping bag, fiddling with the wrapper between sips and watching the dusty gravel crunch beneath their shoes. His responses aren’t rude, just a little off key, a subdued smattering of ‘oh’s and ‘hm’s and ‘I see’s that don’t always quite sync up with Katsumi’s words, a second too late or too early.  

Maybe it’s the truly ridiculous heat that’s getting to the guy. But he’s drinking his tea, and he’s wearing the same old wet towel he’s had slung around his neck all week, ojiisan style. He’d just re-soaked it again in the little sink outside the combini bathroom. It’s funny, Katsumi thinks, that Tanuma’s such a painfully self-conscious person, but then there’s these odd little things here and there that it doesn’t even seem to occur to him to be self-conscious about at all. He didn’t get out much as a kid, from what Katsumi’s heard. It’d be almost endearing if Katsumi was in any sort of mood to be endeared. As it stands it’s too fucking hot out here and now he kind of wants a stupid neck towel too.

Katsumi doesn’t want to make shit awkward, not when he’s staying in his house. But why had it been somehow easier to talk to Tanuma when they were being chased around some hell-mansion about to be murdered by some ghost-doll-things.

He’s not gonna take it personally. Even with his actual friends, where he seems most at ease, Katsumi’s seen him get fidgety, fingers worrying at a fraying shirt hem or drumming on his knee like he doesn’t always quite know how to physically handle too many eyes on him at once, or so many voices in the room. And more often than not, if one of the others picks up on this, he’s seen them seamlessly take the volume down a notch, give him some room to breathe, a little radius of calm. As though his comfort level is some sort of sixth sense for them all.

And Katsumi’s starting to wonder if running his mouth so that Tanuma wouldn’t have to was really the best course of action here. Maybe silence, comfortable or otherwise, would’ve spared them both.

Hell, too late now.

“…and it’s only available on the newest consoles, because of course it is, and even though Sakatani managed to get his hands on a copy and says he’ll let me play, apparently the graphics are kind of ass, so—uh. You good over there?”

Tanuma’s pinching the bridge of his nose, mouth twisting a little and pace falling a half-step behind Katsumi. He doesn’t really answer, just gives an absent diplomatic little hum like he has done for most of the conversation.

Katsumi stops walking.

“Hey.”

And Tanuma honest-to-god almost shuffles right past him, reaching up to rub at his temple now. He only stops when Katsumi snags the strap of the little freezer bag that he’d brought in a thoughtful yet desperate bid to keep the drinks cold and the tops of Nishimura’s chocorooms from all melting together inside the box. Tanuma blinks hard, like all the dust in the air has gunked up in his eyes.

Katsumi frowns. “Your head hurts?”

Tanuma just blinks again, nods once. The look on his face is strange. Vague, kind of.

Katsumi swears under his breath. “Hey,” he says again, louder, when Tanuma’s gaze slides away and out of focus. He grabs his shoulder, shakes him just enough to get his hazy attention back.

“Is this some youkai thing?” He tries to make the words slow and clear. “’Cause if we need to run…” Their chances wouldn’t be stellar, probably, out in the very-wide-open with no visible houses or people that Katsumi can see, but if they booked it they might make it back to the temple in 20 minutes. Barring being gutted in a rice paddy by invisible monsters.

Tanuma frowns, like he’s trying to grasp at the edges of his focus. “I don’t…”

“You don’t know? Or you don’t think so?” If there were time, Katsumi would feel like an ass for getting in his face and snapping at him. But he can feel Tanuma listing forward where he’s still gripping his shoulder, and he puts another hand under his elbow to steady him. “Should I call someone?”

Blink, blink. Apparently, that was too many questions at once. “…hot,” is what Tanuma finally settles on, in a small voice. Then his knees buckle.

Fuck.

Katsumi just barely manages to keep Tanuma from a total faceplant. He’s not so heavy, but it’s so abrupt that trying to catch him sends Katsumi falling back hard onto his own ass as Tanuma’s knees hit the ground.

Katsumi yelped as they went down, but Tanuma hasn’t made a sound. They’re both on their knees. Katsumi’s got him by the shoulders, and his head’s lolling forward, bumping into Katsumi’s chest.

And, shit. He was not lying. Katsumi can feel the heat rolling off him. He manages to maneuver a hand up to the side of his neck, and very nearly yanks it away, hissing through his teeth.

“Right, so,” he mutters. “Probably not youkai shit, then.”

Probably not doesn’t mean definitely not, though, and even as he’s trying to lower Tanuma fully onto the parched ground, curled onto his side, Katsumi’s fishing out his phone.

One bar. He’ll take it.

He hesitates for a second, torn between dialing Natsume, firing off a group message, or just calling an ambulance. He settles on the first—Natsume’s got the fastest mode of transport, which also happens to be an apparently giant and terrifying monster, if Sensei’s own words are to be believed, so that’s two birds one stone.

He hits Natsume’s name, fingers shaking.

And, dead air. Not even a dial tone.

He swears, checks the screen. Zero bars. A stupid little red x where the bars ought to be.

Goddamn backwoods towns and their goddamn backwoods reception.

“Hey.” He lays a hand on Tanuma’s shoulder. Katsumi can’t see his face, but his breaths are coming short and harsh. “I’m gonna borrow your phone.”

Less than one minute later and he’s given it up. Tanuma’s got the same network carrier, and an older phone to boot. It’s like there’s some fucked-up barricade made of yellowing rice fields, choking air and far-off cicada screeches between themselves and outside human contact.

Well then.

Tanuma’s eyes are open now. Not a lot, but that’s got to be better than passed out. Katsumi manages to work an arm under his shoulders, get his opposite hand under his head and neck. “Let’s get some tea in you,” he says, because he’s not sure what the fuck else to do. He can feel a pulse that’s far too quick thrumming under his fingertips, can see the intense splotchy flush across his cheeks that seems to have crept up out of nowhere. Tanuma doesn’t answer him, just scrunches up his eyes against the direct sun on his face, makes a small pained noise that makes Katsumi feel ill.

Making him drink turns out to be less than an inspired plan. He doesn’t seem to register the tea at first, letting it dribble down his chin, but then after a few slow gulps, he gags. And then proceeds to be sick, all over Katsumi.

“Eh. Didn’t like this shirt, anyways,” Katsumi tells him, hoping to exude literally any emotion other than pure terror, and barely managing to turn Tanuma’s face away in time before he gags again.

By the time he finishes, there’s tears in his eyes, and his breaths are coming ragged and loud. He doesn’t seem to notice that Katsumi’s dug through the combini bag, sliding the 2 liter of mugicha under his head and neck like a pillow, and tucked the bottle of Calpis that Taki had asked for underneath his armpit. The rest of Tanuma’s own bottle he upends over his neck and chest, soaking his towel and the top of his shirt. That, at least, elicits a reaction, a faint confused “hm” that would be perfectly reasonable for anyone whose friend has just drenched them in a bottle of jasmine tea.

It makes Katsumi smile, just a bit. “Gotta cool you down. Sorry.” He’s got no idea if it’s the correct thing to do; he’s based the entire tactic on some random lackluster TV drama he’d seen years ago, where some captain of a school track team overheated during a practice, and her teammates tried to care for her on the field while someone fetched a teacher.

At the very least, it didn’t seem to be hurting. His eyes are open wider now, marginally less clouded over. Katsumi’s positioned him on his side again in case of more puking, his cheek squashed against the tea bottle, and he seems to be focused on some spot on the gravel past Katsumi. He looks like he wants to say something, mouth forming around the shape of words, but nothing comes out.

Katsumi turns. There, lying maybe a half meter away on the ground, is something small and rectangular. Some kind of talisman, Katsumi thinks; it’s made of thin pale wood and covered in some inked-in kanji and symbols he can’t make out. He doesn’t touch it, at first. “This is yours?”

Tanuma nods, just a little, then screws his eyes shut like his head is protesting the movement. But by his side his fingers twitch vaguely in Katsumi’s direction. It must’ve fallen out of his pocket when Katsumi was getting his phone. Katsumi scoops it up and places it in his palm, and Tanuma’s fingers close immediately around it.

He digs his own phone out again, an exercise in futility, and dials 119, resisting the urge to chuck it into the field as the call refuses to connect. It’s not like he couldn’t half-drag, half-carry Tanuma back towards the nearest house if he really needed to, but god knows how long it’d take, and even with his net zero medical expertise it seems like a bad idea to be moving him from this spot unless it’s on a stretcher, or on the back of a giant invisible wolf monster.

Tanuma’s staring at nothing at all again, his knuckles white from gripping the talisman. Katsumi frowns, grabs Tanuma’s wrist.

“You’re gonna break it. The wood’s pretty thin.”

Tanuma, predictably, ignores him. Even as weak as he is, with his thumb digging into the center of the thing, he’s likely to snap it in half.

But he doesn’t, or can’t, resist when Katsumi takes it from him. “Let’s keep this in one piece, huh. We need all the damned luck the gods want to chuck our way right now.” He’s about to slide it safely back into Tanuma’s pocket when he pauses, glancing down at the talisman.

“You’re sure nothing’s about to pop out and eat us, right?”

But Tanuma’s eyes have fallen shut again. He doesn’t seem to have passed out; he’s still gasping like he’s run a marathon.

“Right. Gonna take that as a yes.” He finishes tucking the talisman away, then slides his hand up under Tanuma’s fringe. He frowns. The intense heat, he was expecting. What he was not expecting was the desert-dryness of his skin. Katsumi’s own hair’s been plastered grossly to his forehead all week long, only to poke up and frizz at odd angles throughout the day. He hadn’t noticed earlier because of the damp towel and the tea-soaked shirt, but Tanuma’s not sweating.

He swallows back panic. God knows how he’s got any more panic to spare, really. “Look,” he says, not expecting an answer. “Nobody’s coming, because apparently nobody in this entire fucking town uses this road except us, so I’m gonna get help.” He blows out a breath. “I think we passed a pay phone. Ten minutes ago? Maybe less. I’ll make it five. If you get eaten by monsters while I’m gone and I ran in this weather for nothing I am gonna be pretty damn irritated.”

***

The only coffee the vending machines have, at least on this floor, is some dismal off-brand that only comes black. But Katsumi resolutely ignores the acid roiling in his stomach when Kitamoto passes him one and pops the tab. It’s something to do. Chug coffee, scroll his phone. Rinse, repeat. At least it’s cold.

“Hey.”

Something lands in his lap. A squashed-looking cinnamon roll, another vending-machine offering.

“Eat that too or you’ll puke again, probably,” Nishimura tells him.

Katsumi has to bite back the reflexive dickish retort. Nishimura looks just about as shit as Katsumi feels, but he’s still got it in him to be kind. Katsumi’s got nothing in him but raw nerves and stomach acid, at this point.

“Right,” he mutters. “Thanks.”

There’s not even a good reason anymore for the weird shitty haze over his brain. When Tanuma’s dad had called, just before three AM and only two-ish hours after they’d been forced to leave the hospital last night, the news had been good. He was awake, talking a little, and the fever definitely wasn’t gone but the numbers were creeping back downwards. They’d need a few days, at least, to run some barrage of tests and keep an eye out for lasting damage. Tanuma’s dad had been judiciously vague about just what kind of damage, but the half dozen browser pages on heatstroke currently open on Katsumi’s phone had given him a pretty grim idea.

The Fujiwaras’ house had been closest to the hospital, so they’d spent the remainder of the previous night all sleepless and huddled together on the floor of Natsume’s room. Katsumi hadn’t even put up a fight when they’d dragged his futon into the very center of the room between Kitamoto’s and Natsume’s, when Nishimura had idly flopped his own legs over Katsumi’s, or when Taki pulled up some aggressively cheerful magical girl anime on Natsume’s laptop to fill the dead air. When Sensei had tucked himself in by Katsumi’s hip and gone to sleep. When Touko-san had patted his arm, after their very late dinner, her eyes so gentle it hurt. He’d felt liminal, then, like he’d take off and run if he could just escape his own skin, but at least with the others all squashed up against him he could remember to breathe.

It's past 10 in the morning now. Visiting hours had started at 9, and they’d all piled on the first scheduled bus towards the hospital this morning and arrived before 8, anyhow. They had, of course, not been allowed to step foot out the door without a bag loaded up with bento lunches and a firm promise to Touko-san they’d be back by late afternoon when visiting hours had concluded to get some rest. Though she’d been saying something about “getting some things ready” to bring over herself for Tanuma and his dad, and based on the look on her face when she’d said it Katsumi’s half expecting her to march through the waiting room doors in the next hour or two like a woman on a mission with half the contents of the closest supermarket and drugstore loaded up in her arms. The thought makes his chest feel tight.

But they’d shown up just in time to be informed that Tanuma had an MRI among other things scheduled that morning, and that no, they did not know how long it would take.

Across from Katsumi, Natsume’s dozed off, despite his own best coffee-fueled efforts. He’s slumped sideways onto Taki, lank-haired and restless, flicking through an old magazine with disinterest as her heel bounces on the scuffed linoleum. Sensei’s perched across both their laps, still absurdly half-stuffed into the duffel bag in which they’d smuggled him through the hospital doors, which seems pretty pointless to Katsumi if he’s just going to sit there with his entire head sticking out at this point. But he seems entirely unbothered, his eyes closed; maybe asleep, maybe not. But they’re the only ones tucked over in this little alcove of a waiting room, and damn if not a soul has interrupted them for a good two hours.

It’s probably for the best that Natsume’s getting some sleep, really. He hadn’t gotten any more than Katsumi had; Katsumi had heard his muffled hitched breaths last night when they were all pretending to sleep. Out of all of them, he’s said the least this whole time.

“You can stop looking at him like that.”

Taki’s voice is frank, but not unkind.

Katsumi could not be less in the mood for whatever the hell kind of conversation this is about to be. “Like what,” he replies anyhow. 

“Like you broke his best friend,” Nishimura says, lowly, before letting out a slight oof like he’s been elbowed in the ribs.

Damn. Alright then.

None of them seem to be holding their breath for him to respond, at least. They don’t seem to know what to say, either, really. He’s weighing the pros and cons of just fleeing to the bathroom when Kitamoto finally says, “Natsume knows better than anyone that this isn’t on you.”

“Why?” Katsumi feels his gut give a little lurch. “Was it some kind of youkai shit after all, then?”

Taki shakes her head. “I mean, you’ll have to ask him, but. Sensei did go and check the area out last night and ask around and everything, and it all seemed normal.”

Sensei remains silent, naturally, but his ear flicks in Taki’s direction.

Kitamoto’s mouth twists. “What I meant was, just keeling over in random places with no warning or explanation is like. A hobby of Natsume’s.”

“We love it,” Nishimura mutters. “It’s great.”

Sensei huffs.

Katsumi glances at Natsume, still slack and dead to the world on Taki’s shoulder. And okay, maybe he kind of still looks like a stiff breeze could knock him over. But much less so than when they were kids. Less so even than the first time Katsumi had come to this town. “How many times constitutes a hobby?”

And Nishimura frowns, then honest-to-god starts counting on his fingers.

Taki watches him, mouth twisting like she’s considering it. “I guess it depends what counts as keeling over. Or what constitutes a warning.

“Enough times,” Kitamoto says, decisively.

Nishimura scuffs his toe on the floor. “And with me and Acchan, he’d just be lying through his teeth about it, for months, because he didn’t think he could—“

Could what, Katsumi wonders, but Nishimura never finishes the thought. Kitamoto bumps their shoulders together Nishimura huffs, apparently relinquishing the rant building inside him, but Katsumi thinks the look on his face, the tightness in his eyes, is just this side of grief.

“Anyways,” Nishimura says, after an uncomfortable beat, sounding only slightly more subdued. “Even if you don’t wanna hear it, you’re the Big Damn Hero in this situation. No ifs-ands-or-buts, okay. We all know it. Natsume knows it.” Taki nods, flint-eyed like she’s daring him to argue.

“You can’t predict this stuff,” Kitamoto adds, after a moment, his expression hard to parse. “With anyone. And you’ll just make yourself crazy thinking you can.”

“Okay,” is all Katsumi can think of to say. It sounds dismissive, probably, but it’s all he’s got right now. He watches Natsume scrunch up his nose in his sleep. The council hath spoken, and he is too goddamned tired to refute them.

tbc

[gatheringfiki]

FiKi Week 2024: 22nd - 28th June

Welcome to one of our favourite events! Yes, the FiKi Week is back <3

During this one week of 22nd - 28th of June we encourage you to post all kinds of fannish creations (fic, fanart, edits, photosets, headcanons, music mixes, anything!) inspired by our beloved short but hot brothers and specific daily themes, which we provide.

This year, we return to the idea of quotes, in hopes that they might inspire a wide range of responses. And so:

Sat, 22nd of June:

“They say there are two kinds of hearts: the ones that love and the ones that go to war.” ― Unknown

Sun, 23rd of June:

“Love doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints; it takes and it takes and it takes, and we keep loving anyway.” ― Lin Manuel Miranda, Hamilton

Mon, 24th of June:

“Never have I known a soul more familiar than yours, more worn into softness, more moulded to the very shape of my fingers, so that they may curl in it and hold you fast and steady.” ― Unknown

Tue, 25th of June:

“Golden child, Lion boy; Tell me what it's like to conquer. Fearless child, Broken boy; Tell me what it's like to burn.” ― Unknown

Wed, 26th of June:

“Perhaps you should be scared. I am only what you made of me. Whatever you are, you are enough.” ― Unknown

Thu, 27th of June:

“Baby, we were born with fire and gold in our veins.” ― Unknown

Fri, 28th of June:

“You have always been my fate, my destiny, my happy ending.” ― Unknown

I'm sorry, I've been jotting those down throughout last year, but apparently I have been crap at recording the sources!

Please tag all your responses with #FiKiWeek2024 and/or tag us: @gatheringfiki and we will do our best to re-blog and spread the word!

There aren’t any rules here, guys, except that this is a FiKi only event (no other pairings accepted) - respond to the prompt in whatever way you wish, and have fun!

~gatheringfiki

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

Pine-ing For You

Father Paul has a little accident while trying to set up Christmas lights and you decide to get festive.

I got this idea while chatting with @aherdofbees​, and together we developed it to get our dear priest into quite the delicious situation. She made a 𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 illustration that goes with this fic. Go on, click the linkie and like and reblog, because it truly is amazing. 

Thank you so much for the inspiration Allison, I loved writing this!

NSFT/18+ GO AWAY CHILDREN

Pine-ing For You - 5.3K

tw: explicit sexual themes, consensual unprotected sex, body worship, smut with a lot of feelings™, attmepts at humour

Crockett Island may have seemed dull most of the time to the untrained eye, but after more than a year of living there you knew better. The people, while many of them a bit subdued, all had their little joys in life, their passions, and though they were wary of strangers that came into their little town at first, they were among the most kind and hospitable folks you had the good fortune to have met.

However, when Christmas rolled around, even the untrained eye could perceive the shift in atmosphere. It was a jolly holiday after all and the people indeed were slightly jollier. Little by little, decorations began appearing around the island. Many of them were small and decent, maybe just a wreath on a door, or an electric candlestick set in a window. Some were larger, Christmas lights on the roof, perhaps a little reindeer in the front yard. Few decorated more.

Some of these more festive looking places were the schoolhouse, which had student-made snowflakes in the windows, garlands on the windowsills, lights hung from the roof and even a charming wooden nativity scene in front. The Flynn house and The Greene house also breathed a gentle Christmas atmosphere to everyone who walked by. And then, there was Saint Patrick’s. Apparently, Monsignor Pruitt adored Christmas more than anyone else on the island and it showed. Dozens and dozens of various decorations were found in one of the storage areas of the church by Father Paul, who literally begged you to help him put them up. Which you were more than happy to do.

So now there were artificial swags at every corner of the small church, boughs of holly, wreaths, candles and another nativity set, placed right in front of the altar. This one was more detailed and painted, obviously made to be inside rather than face the weather conditions. And it was quite obvious Monsignor Pruitt took great pride in his decor collection. All that was missing were some Christmas trees.

—

Many residents of Crockett Island used artificial trees for their Christmas festivities, but there were still those who couldn’t imagine celebrating their lord’s birthday without a fine fir or a pine. One day, about a week before Christmas, a group of volunteers would gather on one of the larger fishing ships and set off to the mainland to pick out live trees for everyone on the island who wanted one. Ordering worked through simple paper forms, delivered to mailboxes by Dolly Scarborough. One would write down their name, preferred kind of tree, and its size. Filled out forms were then dropped off in the little town hall, along with the money for it. Unlike everyone else (including you) who ordered only one tree, Father Paul ordered three - two larger to be placed inside the church, one smaller for his rectory. He was, of course, among the volunteers going to actually pick the trees up.

They returned around eleven o’clock in the morning. You stood on the dock, looking at the fishing boat full of tied trees with a smile. Paul would be hauling the trees for Saint Patrick’s and the rectory first, with the help from Ed and Riley Flynn, and you convinced Sturge to help you carry the large pine tree you asked for to your home.

“Thank you again,” you said, walking next to him. You genuinely tried to help him carry it, but after a few minutes of very awkward walking and a few broken off twigs, the handyman simply threw the big tree over his shoulder and hauled it the rest of the way by himself. “Do you accept payment in gingerbreads?” you asked with a grin and raised eyebrows. Sturge thought for a while: “Yeah. But it will cost you.” “Oh? How much?” you chuckled. “I want the entire sheet.” You gave a whistle and made an amused ‘tsk’ sound: “Inflation these days…”

—

Two hours later, you stood at your kitchen counter, decorating gingerbreads with white chocolate. The pine stood tall and proud in your living room. It truly was a beautiful tree, healthy and dense, its herby scent, having already filled the room it stood in, was seeping through the rest of your house. You heard the front door open and shut, followed by some shuffling from the hallway.

“Hmm, it smells nice in here,” came a dreamy voice, making you smile. When footsteps began approaching the kitchen, you turned around to greet the priest. But then: “What are you wearing?” you asked, laughing softly. Father Paul was dressed in his skinny jeans, like usual. What wasn’t usual however, was the 'ugly Christmas jumper' instead of the black clerical shirt, its colour reminding you of his gold chasuble. There was a white nordic pattern on front, consisting of snowflakes and reindeers. It didn’t look terrible, but since you never before saw Paul wearing something like this, it kind of took your breath away for a moment.

“Do you like it?” asked Paul with a smile, pulling at his sleeves which you noticed were rather tight at the wrists. “It’s hideous,” you replied snarkily, making the priest chuckle and walk closer to you. He noticed the half decorated gingerbreads right away and was just about to reach for one when you lightly slapped his hand away. “Ouch. What was that for?” asked Paul, fake hurt in his voice. You giggled and wrapped your arms around his torso: “These are for Sturge, for lending me a hand with that tree.” “Oh I see,” replied your lover, understanding on his face, “will you make some for us, too?” You rolled your eyes and couldn’t help but smile: “Of course I will, have I ever neglected you?”

Paul pulled you close to press a soft kiss against your lips, claiming your entire attention. Therefore, you didn’t notice his hand slowly creeping up and onto the counter until it was too late, and one of the gingerbreads was snatched and promptly bit into by the father. “You scoundrel!” you smacked his chest, while Paul only laughed with his mouth full, “you’re lucky I love you.”

He swallowed his bite and batted his eyelashes at you: “it must be the sweater.” You smirked and squinted your eyes. “The jumper is hideous,” you repeated and Paul shook his head: “You really think that?” You didn’t. Taking him in once more, you had to admit that it did look rather flattering on Paul’s tall lean frame. “I knew it,” he said smugly, “you can’t lie to me, you like it.” “I don’t like it,” you tried once more, the corners of your lips turning up inadvertently. Paul took another bite of the gingerbread: “Hm, you love it.”

A few moments later, during which you picked at the soft wool of your lover’s jumper while he hummed appreciatively at the taste of your baking, you gave him a kittenish smile: “Since you’ve got nothing better to do right now than be a menace,” he opened his mouth in mock-offence before smiling cheekily, “you could go and start with the Christmas tree, what do you say?” “Hm,” he thought, “I thought we’d do it together?” Your arms encircled his waist again, pulling him closer and lifting your head to meet his eyes: “We will, but you could at least start putting the lights on. It’s a beast of a tree and I wouldn’t be able to reach the top, unlike a certain tall priest.”

He gave you a soft smile and pecked the tip of your nose, before brushing his lips against yours: “Very well.” You watched in curiosity, as his hands came up to rest on your hips and his eyes bore into your own. And then, in less than a second, he was scrambling away, another gingerbread in his hand. You gasped and stared after him, mischievous dark eyes twinkling at you until he rounded a corner. “Unbelievable!” you called after him.

—

You were pretty happy with your work, before you on the counter lay a sheet of nicely decorated gingerbreads of various shapes. Save for the two Father Paul stole right under your nose, but you supposed Sturge wouldn’t really notice that. You were in the middle of moving them into a container, when a dull thud sounded from the living room. “Paul? Is everything alright?” you called. A deafening silence was your only answer for several seconds and you started getting worried, when Paul’s sheepish voice reached your ears: “Um… A little help here, (F/N)?” You finished storing the cookies away, wiped your hands on a kitchen towel and made your way to the living room.

You couldn’t see the priest at first, but when you did, you began giggling uncontrollably. Paul was lying on his stomach very nearly under the tree, the christmas lights cord in his outstretched hand. His torso was bare and you could see the yellow jumper and white undershirt tangled around Paul’s arms, caught on one of the tree’s strong branches. He was looking at you abashed, his cheeks a little rosy with embarrassment.

You learned fairly early on in your relationship that for all of Paul’s amazing qualities, his skill as a priest, his knack for cooking, and his knowledge of your body as a lover, he was sometimes quite clumsy and very accident prone. A week wouldn’t pass without him bashing his little toe on some piece of furniture and you’d often find small bruises on his arms and legs, prompting him to sheepishly explain the cause for them. It was usually doors.

“I’m so sorry,” you said after you caught your breath and walked closer to him, kneeling by his side, “but what happened?” Father Paul released a huff and an adorable pout formed on his lips. “I wanted to turn on the lights. I got under the tree, on my knees, and tried to plug the cord into the socket. I couldn’t reach it though, and wanted to get out, try a different angle. But, um,” he paused, wetting his lips with his tongue, “I caught my shirt on a branch. I tried to untangle it, but couldn’t. So I thought I’d just try to take the shirt off, free it from the branch and put it on again. This is as far as I got…” The priest looked angrily at his hands, “the sleeves are too tight at the wrists, I can’t get my hands out! I mean, I tried yanking away, but the tree swayed rather nastily and I was worried it would collapse on top of me.”

“Wait,” you said with an amused grin, “are you really actually trapped? You can’t get out of there?” Father Paul 'tsked: “Yes. I am trapped under a Christmas tree. Can you help me?” You smiled softly at him and pet his hair. You proceeded to move forward, crawling under the tree yourself (mindful of any mischievous branches) and snatching the cord from Paul’s hand. You plugged it in and the living room was suddenly illuminated by multicoloured Christmas lights. You crawled back and sat leisurely on the ground, close to the priest’s head. Paul looked at you expectantly for a while, but after seeing you showed no intention to free him, a look of shock came over his face: "Wha- You're really going to leave me here?”

You once more moved your hand to his head, fingers carding through his dark hair: “'Leaving you' is the last thing on my mind,” you moved until you were lying down next to him, hand now coming to stroke his cheek and jaw, “but right now, I think I like you exactly. Where. You. Are,” you exaggerated each word, thumb moving to stroke the edges of Paul’s lips. “You look like an early Christmas present,” you purred, leaning your head on your free hand. Paul closed his eyes at the feeling of your clever fingers once again combing through the soft curls on the back of his neck. “Are you-... are you really trying to seduce me while I’m trapped under a Christmas tree?”

You giggled airily, tugging at the soft hair gently and delighting in Paul’s tiny little gasps: “Hmm, maybe… Is it working?” Paul’s head fell down to lean on his arms, his cheeks got even darker and in a quiet voice he replied: “A little.” You slowly scratched at his scalp, smiling lovingly each time he leaned into your touch. "Hey," you said then, prompting him to open his eyes and look at you. Your thumb found his lips again and you gave him a look he could read perfectly by now. 'Tell me you're not ok with this and I'll stop.' it said. Warmth spread through Paul's chest, followed by a gentle tingle of anticipation.

He pressed his lips against your thumb further in a small kiss, before smiling slightly and blinking at you coquettishly, and he too attempted to speak to you with his eyes: ‘I want this’.

You gave him one more gentle smile, before leaning back and looking at him appreciatively: “My, my, I must have been so nice this year, what a lovely present.” The priest chuckled into his arms: “Are you going to tear the wrapping paper off?” Your head cocked to the side, a wolfish grin on your face. One fingertip stroked along Paul’s earlobe, descending down upon his pulsepoint and feeling his increasing heartbeat. “Nope, I don’t do that, it’s no fun” you shook your head, “I always unwrap presents slowly, peeling the tape off and trying not to damage the paper. Sometimes I even stop midway, because the anticipation makes it so much better.

“I think I’ll start with the parts that are unwrapped already,” you purred into his ear and moved closer, both of your hands coming to rest on his shoulders while you pressed small kisses into his hair, lips moving down to brush against the nape of his neck. “Hm,” you sighed contently, “such a pretty neck, long and elegant, like a swan, almost regal,” you bit lightly at the beginning of his spine, making your lover release a short gasp, “so sensitive.” You moved lower, hands sliding across shoulder blades: “Beautiful golden skin, like honey, soft, and warm, and very sweet.” Father Paul could feel more hotness entering his already red cheeks. Your whispered praises always had a profound effect on him. He hid his face in his arms.

“Strong shoulders and back, muscles defined perfectly but gently,” you continued and now dragged your fingernails across the entire length of the priest's back, making him quietly groan in pleasure. You’ve never met anyone who didn’t like their back scratched, but Paul seemed particularly enraptured by it. You made sure to lightly graze every inch of the golden skin, finding all the right spots, all the while pushing hot kisses onto every single freckle you could see and connecting them with your tongue.

Paul couldn’t help but chuckle when he felt your hands give his clothed bum a squeeze. “Girls love a guy with a lovely arse, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise,” you whispered cheekily and gave the lovely arse another squeeze, “alright, let me see the other side of this present before I start unwrapping it further.”

You helped Paul carefully roll over and onto his back, his wrists, still bound by his own clothes, now crossed over one another. Dark hair peeked at you from under the priest’s arms, and his pink nipples looked like little pearls screaming for attention. And they weren’t the only thing craving attention. Paul’s erection was tenting the dark grey skinny jeans and his eyes fluttered when you ran a finger over it. You gave him a grin: “Sorry, I’ve always been a little impatient, but I promise I’ll try to be good.” Paul shuddered out a laugh, his breathing a little shallow: “I wouldn’t be mad either way.”

Slowly you put a leg over his waist and straddled your lover: “Now, where were we? Oh, yeah,” you leaned forward and took his face into your hands, thumbs caressing his brow. “Thick, expressive eyebrows… Dark eyes, so, so large. Like a dolly,” you leaned forward to press your lips against Paul’s eyelids, then pulled away again, “cute, well defined nose, perfect for kissing,” once more you made your point by pecking the entire length of your lover’s nose, making him produce a fluttery chuckle.

“Though, of course, your entire face is perfect for kissing,” you smiled at him lovingly and then your fingers traced the edges of his lips, “but most of all it’s your mouth. That perfect cupid’s bow. I see it, and I want to trap it between my own lips. When you smile, when you pout, when you do that adorable little mouth shrug… When you talk, to me, to your congregation. When your mouth is slightly open and I can see your upper teeth just peeking through. I always want to kiss you.”

You crushed your lips against Paul’s, teeth clashing and tongues moulding against each other. He groaned into your hungry mouth and wanted to curl his arms around you, but soon remembered he was bound and released a desperate sound instead. You only parted from him when the lack of oxygen threatened to take your consciousness away. A tiny string of saliva followed you for a bit, before it snapped and landed on Paul's kiss bruised lips. You kissed the slight cleft in his chin and playfully dipped your tongue into it.

The emotion in your eyes as you pulled back could have made Paul cry, you were looking at him as if he was the rarest jewel, the most fantastical treasure in the world, as if he was your sun and moon and stars. “You have no idea just how beautiful you really are, do you? Inside and out,” you whispered, hands returning to stroke the side of the priest’s face, which was once more getting hot. This time however, he couldn’t hide it and as he lay there, absorbing each and every one of your words, Paul realised he didn’t even want to hide. You leaned closer again, whispering against his open mouth: “So beautiful, so very pretty.” An involuntary moan escaped him.

You smiled against his mouth, then ducked your head lower, nibbling softly around Paul's jawline before descending upon his throat, teeth scraping over his Adam's apple right as he swallowed heavily. You shifted until you sat directly on his hips and rolled your own, rubbing against his constricted erection and making his head fall back, those fine lips opening wordlessly. He took large gulps of air, hands involuntarily trying against his restraints once more. “Soon,” you promised, rolling your hips again, “but do try not to move your hands too much. I really don’t want the tree to actually fall down on our heads. Can you imagine explaining that to Sarah, when we show up all bruised and battered?”

The priest made an unhappy little sound, but tried to keep his hands as still as he could anyway. You made your way down his chest, nuzzling your face into his soft skin and delivering soft kisses and playful bites every time you felt like it. Paul sighed when your lips reached one of his nipples. You circled the nub with your tongue before sucking it into your mouth and pinching it with your teeth lightly. You used your fingers to stimulate the other nipple in perfect synchronisation with your mouth, trying various techniques and listening to Paul’s shallow gasps and quiet groans for feedback.

After alternating between the two, now red and swollen, buds for several minutes, you decided to carry on with your adventurous journey across Paul’s exquisite body, and ran the tips of your fingers against his ribs teasingly. You grinned widely when your lover made a little jump, trying to get away from your touch now: “N-no, don’t,” he gasped, but it was pointless. You again stroked over his ribs and under his arms, and was soon rewarded with choked laughter. “A-angel, please… please don’t tickle me right now,” he begged in between chuckles. You giggled, but took mercy on him, climbing up to steal a kiss: “I’m sorry, love, I couldn’t resist.”

You sat back onto his thighs and gave the priest a reassuring smile after you laid your hands on his sensitive ribs again, this time your entire palms, intent on caressing him and bringing him pleasure. You stroked down, soon finding an obstacle in your way. Father Paul’s jeans looked so, so tight around his hard shaft it must’ve been painful, and you licked your lips as you made eye contact with him and rubbed the heel of your hand over his length. He shuddered and his eyes fluttered closed on their own. You repeated the motion, making your lover groan with pleasure.

“I think it’s time for me to unwrap my present,” you whispered huskily and waited for him to look at you. When he did, you sat even further away, all the way above his knees, and began making a show of popping open the button and torturingly slowly pulling his zipper down. Your fingers curled below the waistline on each side of the trousers and you tugged them down, little by little, revealing one, then two edges of his hip bone, protruding under his skin enticingly. You left the jeans bunched in the middle of his thighs and observed the priest amorously.

His hands, still crossed at the wrists above his head were balled into fists, fingers white at the knuckles. Paul’s face was flushed dark pink, with sweat gathering in his hairline, one drop of it having already rolled down his cheek. His lips were swollen from kissing. Well, his upper lip anyway, the bottom one was currently trapped between Paul’s teeth, but you presumed it’d be in a similar condition. He was breathing hard, his eyes dark with lust, and there was a damp spot on the front of his grey boxer briefs. You bowed to press a wet kiss just below his sternum, then lower, then lower again, relishing the soft tender skin of the priest's tummy.

You drew a circle around Father Paul’s belly button with your tongue and started pinching the area underneath with your teeth, teasing at the happy trail going down into his underwear. You looked up after reaching the waistband, catching your lover’s intense gaze. He whimpered softly when instead of going where he needed you the most, you bit into that tempting hip bone. “Please…” he whispered, feeling like he was going to go insane if you were to tease him much longer. Paul didn’t even realise his eyes were closed until your soft hand touched his cheek and he opened them again. You were smiling at him warmly, a look filled with tenderness. He willingly opened his mouth for you when you moved your hand to the back of his neck and kissed him soundly.

At the same time you finally pushed your hand under the waistband of his briefs and took a hold of his aching member. Paul moaned into your mouth in relief, his eyes shutting closed and eyebrows turning upwards. You fondled his manhood steadily, massaging it slowly with your thumb drawing little circles into the heated skin. He breathed hard against your mouth once he had to part for breath, and you stuck your tongue out to trace his lips before pushing it back between them. You were slow in your movements, yet Paul soon found himself nearing his peak.

“Wait,” he managed to get out and you let go of him right away. He tried to convey what he wanted with his eyes and, thankfully, you seemed to understand.  You climbed off of him, lying down by his side instead so you could make out some more. From his position, Paul now had some access to your neck and he immediately used this fact to his advantage, pressing sloppy kisses and bites against your pulse point while you massaged his scalp with your fingers. He attempted to duck his head lower, but was held back by his restraints. He gave you another pleading look and you started removing articles of your own clothing, as well as ridding him of the jeans and boxers entirely.

Once you were as naked as he (save for the jumper and shirt tangled on his arms), You climbed back over him, bracing yourself on one hand above his head and pushing your bosom level with his face. Wasting no time, Paul began kissing the sensitive skin, tongue darting out to circle your nipples and flick over them. Meanwhile, your other hand was between your legs, two fingers slowly moving inside your heat in a scissoring motion, stretching yourself. You rested your head against Paul’s, your content sighs fanning over the priest’s black hair.

Suddenly, Paul produced an alarmed sound and turned his head away. You immediately lifted yourself off him. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?” you asked, your arousal now mixed with worry. He screwed his eyes shut before releasing a sheepish chuckle: “No, no, nothing like that. It’s just-... um, there is a pine needle getting somewhere it definitely should not be getting.” You started laughing quietly, Paul joining you shortly after. After you fished out the pine needle from under the back of his thigh and made sure there were no more pointy things threatening anything vital, you wanted to lean forward again, but Paul stopped you. “I want to watch,” he said. You smiled down at him and made a show of fucking yourself with your own fingers.

Once you felt sufficiently ready, you pulled your digits out and moved down Paul’s body, pushing your hips together. You rolled your hips a few times, the underside of the priest’s cock sliding through your wet folds. Using your now free hand, you reached behind yourself and guided your lover inside. Paul bent one leg at the knee and pushed his hips up to meet you halfway. Both of you choked out a small gasp. Despite your preparation, you needed a few moments to get used to Paul’s width.

You experimentally raised your hips before sinking back, trying to find an angle that worked the best for you. A few thrusts later, you felt a bolt of pleasure shoot through your spine and into your core, and grinned. You lowered yourself until your body was flush with Paul’s and carefully slipped your arms under his, hands coming to tangle into his hair. You connected your foreheads and looked into his eyes deeply as you started thrusting against him in that brilliant angle.

Paul’s laboured breathing and delicate moans blew across your cheeks, warming them more than the blood gathered there. You tilted your head to the side and let your lips connect in an uncoordinated kiss, keeping your eyes open. Paul’s hands were shaking from how much he wanted to reach out for you, all the while keeping in mind that was the only thing he couldn’t do, so he instead tried to convey all the ways he wanted to touch you in through his mouth, sucking on your lower lip, biting your tongue gently, licking a wet strip along your jaw.

Your movements sped up and the fire within you started burning brighter, every single thrust like a spurt of gasoline into a flame. You hid your face into Paul’s heated neck, feeling his heart hammering away at a rapid speed, sensing his groans and whimpers before actually hearing them. You wrapped yourself around him completely, as if willing your bodies to mould into one. The priest bent his leg a bit more, gaining better leverage to pound up into you, feeling his upcoming release nearing as well.

Once Paul heard your moans becoming more urgent, felt your walls beginning to flutter around him and saw your thighs trembling, he started nudging your head with his own, wordlessly attempting to make you look at him, reveal your face. He loved watching you fall apart, your face showing nothing but pleasure, raw, almost unhinged. It was a sight only he was allowed to see, nearly sacred. You raised your head with some difficulty and rested it back against his, your pupils blown wide and constantly disappearing and reappearing behind fluttering eyelids.

You were on the very brink, moments before plummeting down into the abyss, and your hips lost all sense of rhythm. “Come for me, angel,” Paul groaned and delivered a sharp thrust upwards, effectively shoving you over the edge. Your fingers closed in his hair harshly and a wave of pleasure exploded in your core, shooting into your veins like a drug. You gasped violently, releasing a series of short high pitched whimpers as your heat began pulsing around Paul’s twitching shaft. He continued thrusting into you, hitting that little bundle of nerves and effectively prolonging your orgasm.

You were blushing everywhere, sweating, trembling through heaps of bliss, yet a drunken smile bloomed on your face. Your unfocused eyes connected with Paul’s, their gaze intense and almost desperate. “S-so, ah, you’re so b-beautiful, Paul,” you managed to stutter out, and then only watched the fireworks go off in those nearly black orbs. They widened for a millisecond and then, as if a rope snapped, you could see Paul fighting to keep them even open. You would have almost thought he was in pain, with his hands trembling violently, his mouth opening into an ‘o’ shape to release a long moan, and his head tilting back.

Your walls were painted white, spurt after spurt of hotness spreading through your core. Together you shook through the aftershocks, slowly coming down your highs. You collapsed against your lover, trying to get your breathing under control once more. Several minutes of lazy kisses and whispered words of love later, Paul tried tugging his arms free once more, causing some more pine needles to descend upon your cooling bodies. You groggily climbed up his body until you were able to reach the treacherous twig and untangle it from Father Paul’s shirt.

The priest stretched his arms and proceeded to pull both his jumper and shirt off of him, tossing them somewhere to your left. Finally, finally, he was able to hold you and immediately did just so. “You were right,” he said quietly, voice hoarse, “it is a horrible sweater.” You giggled and let yourself slide down and onto your side, lying next to him. “I don’t know,” you purred, your hand coming to caress his cheek, “I think it’s starting to grow on me.”

You shivered slightly, your body having already cooled down from your previous activities, and reached for a blanket which was draped over your sofa. You threw it over the two of you and got comfortable in the father’s arms. “If there was an advent calendar of making love during Christmas time, this would definitely be there. Under the tree,” you mused, your voice light and airy. “Wonder what would be hidden under ‘24’,” replied Paul in the same manner, “making love after the midnight Mass?” You grinned into his neck, one of your hands slowly massaging his shoulder: “A lovely suggestion.”

“Still want to decorate the tree?” he asked after a while, pressing small kisses into your hair. You murmured something unintelligible and hid your face again. Paul chuckled lowly: “Okay, shower and a movie then?” “Yeah,” you breathed into his skin, “we’ll do the tree first thing tomorrow.” Paul hummed in agreement. You lay cuddled beneath the Christmas tree, the colourful lights dancing on your bare limbs and the smell of pine lingering sweetly in the air. “We could decorate the one in the rectory after. And bake those gingerbreads only for us.”

A giggle started blooming in your chest, soon turning into a full on laughter. “You really are unbelievable!” you bit into your lower lip and pulled back to look into his large eyes. They reflected the big genuine smile on Paul’s face perfectly: “I’ll even wear the sweater.” You shook your head and quickly crushed your lips against his. Absolutely unbelievable.

Thank you for reading, I hope you had a good time c: As always, you can find this story and all of my other stories over on AO3. Please, be sure to check out @aherdofbees​ tumblr as well, she makes the most spectacular art!

the first tags are sentences I had to restrain myself from using in order not to look like the last bits of sanity finally packed their bags and kissed me goodbye

@everythingbutresolved @agirlinherhead​ @rothko-mirror​ @littleredwritingcat​ @vintageglassheart02​ @thexhostess​ @fatherpaulsimp​ @blackberries45​ @daughterofaries​ @exorcise-my-demons​ sending kisses ××

[tungledotedu]

block these people for anti-arab racism and islamophobia.

[ID: a tumblr post by prismatic-bell, dated 27 february. it says: 'It’s absolutely the “growing up in a culture based around a death cult” thing. And for anyone who wants to get mad about me calling Christianity a death cult: you commit ritual cannibalism every week and wear an instrument of subjugation and torture around your necks (and hang it in your houses and write songs about how much you love it) as a celebration. It’s a death cult.' end ID.]

there are palestinian christians (of whom there are fewer than 1000 due to the ongoing genocide), and it's racist and shameful to call their religion a 'death cult' with 'ritual cannibalism'. it doesn't matter that you claim to be 'criticising' white westerners when your words are barely distinguishable from your average conservative 'arabs are savages with a barbaric culture'.

this is what prismatic-bell was responding to:

[ID: a tumblr post by jewreallythinkthat, dated 27 february. it says: 'Something I really don't understand is this obsession the anti-Israel crowd (in the West) have with death and martyrdom. All they care about is dying, and often killing for their cause; I see nothing about building a better future that isn't based on the murder of 9 million Israelis. It's easy to die for a cause. The challenge is living to make a better tomorrow.' underneath it is a reply by fromchaostochosmos with the same date. it reads: ' there is something very fetishistic about it all. I think a lot of it comes from the Christianity. Because Christianity also has this kinda martyr fetish. It is more apparent is Catholicism and Orthodox with their saints and iconography that they love to have. But like about Jesus and the whole he died for the sins thing.' end ID.]

this post was about aaron bushnell, and the second poster didn't mention his name because it would be like how mass shooters shouldn't be made famous for fear of copycats. it's one thing to have complex feelings about self immolation, but it's dishonest to compare it to something as cruel, vengeful, and unnecessary as a mass shooting.

who does this rhetoric serve? it's certainly not the palestinians, whose suffering aaron bushnell was drawing attention to.

why don't you take your preaching to the actual death cult that is the idf? or the civilians who blocked humanitarian aid in kerem shalom crossing or came to watch and film palestinian hostages being tortured? or the people making gaza-themed escape rooms to 'kick some arabs' ass'?

[agoobersretreat]

And here's part two! Opinions and stuff from me!

So, that's tough to pin down? Like, what I think is underrated or is actually underrated? As those are very different answers, ya know?

Actually underrated that I see around? Haruhi fandom stuff. Stuff I think is underrated but actually isn't? Love Live fandom stuff, mostly in that I missed a lot of the peak years of the fandom for activity and such, apparently!

The shows we like to watch are anime or cartoons, mattering on the moods. Started Scooby-Doo: Where Are You? (The original first series, I believe?) a week or two ago and didn't get too far because of life stuff.

Neon likes to share Saint Seiya and the Transformers cartoons with us! Last month or so, I also streamed Ferngully, Robots and Happy Feet for a sort of themed movie block. Points if you see the theme without me telling you. :)

Oooorgh, that's a tough one! A lot of them are on here, actually, since I don't have time to read many books anymore.

You've got @somechubbynerd (girlfriend and great fic writer, helped me hone my own writing all these years), @pudgy-planets (Love how she writes her OCs and the Sailor Senshi interacting with each other and their own slice of life things), @justsescape (genuinely someone I consider a master of writing kinky romance that's equal parts both kinky and romantic), @muses-and-odd-fashion (the amount of lore this guy makes is amazing and I deeply respect his work to keep it all together) and @tonbatasonata (the one who actually pushed me to do my canon character blog the most and because I was writing opposite him here on Tumblr, with Taylor. (Yes, I know it doesn't take you there. He deleted the blog last year or so))

I hope that answers that question for you!

Hrrrrm, that's hard to say? There's the basic stuff, I guess. The role-playing scene, here and when I started elsewhere, has changed quite a bit since I got into it from 2007/2008!

My tips are going to be this:

-Have fun! Go into a fandom you're interested in with a canon character you like or maybe make an OC for that fandom? That's what I did to get into the Pokémon RP Community, back in the day!

-Be patient. Roleplaying is a hobby for most. Life happens and the like. At the most, maybe poke someone for a reply after a few days, just to check on them.

-If they'll let you and want to, definitely start roleplaying with your friends. Not saying that you have to, but knowing the other person a bit more on the other side is definitely a big help! And making friends through RP is also good fun! I literally met my best friend of 15+ years and my girlfriend (and also best friend) of 12+ years this way!

-This last one, I feel, is the most important: PLEASE FOLLOW ANY RULES OR DO'S/DON'TS THAT THE OTHER PERSON HAS. You wouldn't want someone to make you feel gross and uncomfortable playing with them, right? So, please do the same for them and take their lists and rules seriously. And hey, make sure you have some of your own posted, so they'll know where you stand on that kind of stuff, too.

Hope this helps!

Hrrrm, a good question! In no particular order, we have:

-The Lion King (1994)

-The Book of Life

-Puss in Boots: The Last Wish

-The Blues Brothers

-Happy Feet

-Robots

-Ferngully

-Early Man

-ParaNorman

-The Rescuers: Down Under

Mhmmm, those feel pretty good, yeah. :)

[mt07131]

2 A.M.- Maeve Divine

2 A.M. 

2:07 A.M, if she wanted to be accurate, according to the dim light of her bedside clock. 

2:07 A.M, and Maeve was wide awake. This wasn’t uncommon for her, she always said she had too much going on in her head to be able to rest. She used to be able to turn over and see Seven right beside her, also awake. They would spend hours just talking, talking about music, about themselves, about anything and everything. In those brief moments in time, when the rest of the world slipped into dreams, they would just talk.

But she couldn’t do that anymore. She turned her head to the side of the bed, to that empty space that weighed on every part of her. Her eyes focused on that space, as if she could will him to appear beside her. As if the past week had been just the world’s longest nightmare and this was all in her head. But it wasn’t, and Maeve had to accept that. Nothing would be the same anymore, because Seven had left and he took a part of her with him.

She sat up, rubbing the heels of her palms into her eyes. She knew she couldn’t keep doing this to herself, but she couldn’t help it. Every waking moment was occupied by thoughts of that party, of their fight, of everything that had happened since. She went through her recollection meticulously, wondering what she could’ve done to fix everything. What choices could she have made differently to make sure things wouldn’t crash and burn the way they did?

Maeve reached past her clock (2:10 A.M.) and to the worn notebook that sat on her dresser. Maybe she could write, distract herself. Her best ideas always came to her in the dead of night, hence why she kept the notebook so close to her at all times. Writing songs, yes, that would fix everything, or at least it would fix her right now. It was all she spent the week since the party doing, you know, between bouts of sleeping and crying and ordering takeout and screaming.

She opened it up to a fresh page, placed the pen tip to the paper and… nothing. Normally, she would have something, anything. What were all those racing thoughts doing in her head if they weren’t there to help her write the next great Reject Saints hit? She tried again, willing something to come out, and still nothing. Instead, there were just dots of ink on the page, memories of starting something but never finishing.

With a sigh, Maeve flipped back through the book. Her notebook had been her one constant companion through this aftermath, disjointed choruses and unorganized verses scribbled wherever she could find room. One thing was for sure though, they all had one overarching theme.

“A lonely heart remains until we know the truth.”

“It started with a spark and ended in flames.”

“No, I don’t really want to leave you behind, but apparently you can’t stay all mine.”

“Give it up for what we could have been.”

“So take my broken heart with you.”

She let out a loud groan, bouncing back against the mattress and letting the notebook rest on her face. Part of her wanted to finish them, to record them, to let him hear what he had put her through. But she couldn’t do that. No way could any of these songs see the light of day, not now. The wound of their breakup was still too raw. Besides, what if he listened to them? Would he ever? Doubtful, Seven made it very clear that he wanted nothing to do with Reject Saints and Maeve anymore. 

The notebook slid down to her chest as she sat up again, and again she opened it up. Not to those most recent pages, but to those first ones. Scribbles from back in high school, when she knew jack shit about how to put a proper song together. Occasionally, her notes and doodles were interspersed with another hand's writing, one that matched the tattoo on her uncovered wrist. His handwriting showed up more and more as she flipped through, eventually being used as much as her own. This notebook had been touched by him in so many ways, more than she ever truly realized. And now, it was all she had left of him.

She almost considered burning it. Throwing it into the fireplace at Devyn’s place or just lighting a match and watching it catch until it was only ashes in her hand. She almost did, she came very close during one particularly emotional night, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t just get rid of it, because as much as Seven had made his mark on it, it was hers. It had everything, it was everything. She couldn’t just get rid of it.

That same reason was why the new notebook Rowan had gotten her (spiral-bound and everything, he had said, fresh new upgrade) still sat untouched on her desk. That’s what he had said, but she knew why he gave it to her. He was trying to help her start fresh. But that same reason was why she kept reaching for this notebook, her notebook, the one with the cracked spine and the cover duct-taped back together. Because it was hers, to the core, and she couldn’t just forget about it.

Maybe she needed to just zone out, she thought as she snapped the notebook shut. Placing it on the bedside table (2:39 AM), she instead reached for her phone. Music then, music was always her lifeline. She just needed to calm down, listen to something familiar, just let go. One deep breath, and she tapped that bright shuffle button.

“Dare me to jump off of this Jersey bridge-!”

Maeve scrambled to pull the headphones out of her ears. Of all the songs it could’ve played, shuffle decided to grace her with their song. One of the first they had ever figured out together, that they ever performed together. 

She couldn’t escape him. They had been so intertwined for so long, sometimes it was hard to tell where Seven ended and Maeve began. Everything reminded her of him and it hurt. It hurt so much, because he had become an extension of her and vice versa. She had to move on, figure out who she was without him, but that wasn’t going to happen so soon. For now, she just mourned what they had been.

Phone back on the nightstand (2:41 AM), because that was a total bust. Maybe she would just… lay there and pray she would fall back asleep eventually. Maybe she would exhaust herself thinking pathetically about her ex-boyfriend, ex-band mate, ex-everything. That was how that worked, right? And it did. Blissful, dreamless sleep finally took her in its gentle embrace.

Eventually, she got out of bed. She cleaned up the takeout containers. She started trying to be human again. She started being not just Maeve, but Maeve Divine again. 

And then, one of those songs did end up seeing the light of day. It was a final goodbye, the last page of the chapter. That’s what she told herself, at least, that putting that song out into the world would be the end of it all. Even if she didn’t truly believe it herself.

“Now I feel nothing ‘cause I’m done with you.”

[cutepresea]

Since the first half of Shirabe Meshi chapter 20 was mostly setup, I waited until this week to make a post for the entire chapter.

As a reminder of the end of chapter 19, since it took a break last month, Adam sent an invitation to SONG to compete in his cook off.

Well, Tsubasa and Maria anyway. The producer asked for them specifically since they're big names that can draw an audience.

Apparently Adam suddenly bought Fudou's show, canceled it, and started his own cooking program with himself as the host

So the teams are:

Team Crimson Bonds: Vanessa and Elsa

Team Diva: Maria and Tsubasa

And Team Alchemists: Saint-Germain and Prelati

The theme is all-in-one. They have 30 minutes to complete the meal, once ingredients are chosen no others can be used, and they can call in one support member for five minutes. The prize is a small pile of gold Adam transmuted

Maria immediately decides that since they have a time limit, they should make something a bit less intensive and settles on steak.

It moves on to Team Crimson Bonds who are preparing some rice for whatever their dish is. They have their sights on the prize because they just really need to pay their overdue rent (oof)

Meanwhile, Team Alchemists have blown 10 minutes STILL picking ingredients.

They've chosen so many they realize they're going to have trouble carrying them so they bring in Cagliostro as their support just so she can do that

Team Diva, however, are doing perfectly fine and have made a side of mashed potatoes.

(This is where the first half ended)

So Team Alchemists were making fótiàoqiáng and they set up this wild alchemic device to do the work. Hibiki gets excited about this and Miku's like "They're making food from manga?" (This is a reference to lyrics in Itsuka no Niji, Hana no Omoide where Hibiki lists that as one of the foods she wants to eat and Miku responds that she's listing food from manga)

Seems like it's pretty good judging from their reactions after they taste it later.

Team Crimson Bonds are doing fine themselves and making konohadon

So how about Team Div...oh

Tsubasa, under the influence of Millaarc's powers, completely DESTROYS the steaks they were going to cook. And yes there are...several references to parts of XV ep. 2.

So the chapter ends with Shirabe stepping in and declaring that she'll fix things in the five minutes she has as support

[saintsenara]

Hi! First of all, Happy Saint Patrick’s day! Second of all, I have been binge reading ‘One Year in Every Ten’ this past week and I have been absolutely captivated by it. In particular, I’m interested in your characterisation of Delphini, I liked the parallels between the portrait of Bellatrix as a young girl and the photo of Delphini on her birthday. I’m curious as to what your characterisation of Delphini would be if she was to appear as a more prominent character in a work of yours, things like her temperament, feelings towards her parents (particularly in One Year on Every Ten with a dead-but-not-actually Tom), interests etc. She’s a character I typically don’t have great interest in, since I’ve never been particularly interested in The Cursed Child, but you’ve piqued my interest!

I’d also be curious as to how you think interactions between Tom and Delphini would go down, and what you feel Tom’s feelings would be towards her? I think you’ve mentioned before that he wouldn’t be a particularly hands on father, but his behaviour at the end of Chapter 28 makes me wonder about that apparent lack of paternal nature.

anon, thank you so much! i am absolutely delighted that you’ve enjoyed one year in every ten, and i’m particularly thrilled that you’ve managed to do so while being a member of delphini nation. it will come as a shock to nobody that there are plenty of readers who are having to grit their teeth and suffer through the concept of a bellamort baby - and even more, i’m sure, who have dipped altogether at the first mention - and so it’s very refreshing to meet someone with taste…

the hill i will die on is that delphini’s existence makes sense not only in contexts such as this - which you will never find me claiming feature one-hundred-percent-canon-accurate representations of its stars - but within the canonical voldemort and bellatrix’s character arcs. the big theme of the series for voldemort is that his attempt to outrun his humanity is ultimately futile, and so him fucking around [literally] and finding out that even his body - cobbled together from snake blood and dark magic - is capable of getting his mistress pregnant fits that in a really interesting way. the canonical voldemort also has a really quite profound sense of honour - the most striking example of which is that he detests wormtail for having betrayed james and lily, even though that betrayal was literally what he wanted to happen - and i think this provides an explanation for why he wouldn’t just kill bellatrix [or give her an abortifacient against her will] when she refused to end the pregnancy.

[and i do think he’d be under no illusion that delphini was his - not least because the most canon-plausible time for her to be born is at some point in spring 1997. bellatrix appears in half-blood prince once, in a scene set in early july 1996, and then doesn’t turn up in the text again until the opening scene of deathly hallows, which takes place in early july 1997. if we say she’s born in march or april, this would have her conceived in summer 1996 after all the evidence of canon suggests that rodolphus is back in azkaban. voldemort’s not wheedling his way out of that one!]

this does not - obviously - mean that i think he’d give a solitary fuck about the progression of bellatrix’s pregnancy or his daughter’s early life. as he tells us in one year in every ten, he has never actually seen delphini in person - rodolphus forcing that photograph on him in c.21 is the first time he’s ever laid eyes on her, and i think he was genuinely quite surprised to discover that she had turned into something he could think of as recognisably human rather than just a potato that screamed.

because i don’t think he’ll ever stop hating babies - the trauma of his childhood runs too deep, and a spoiler i’ll give away for free is that there’s no way on god’s green earth that harry is getting a riddle child of his own - but i think he won’t find it particularly difficult or traumatic to interact with a delphini who’s eleven and can, therefore, speak at a reasonable volume and sit still when required. i’ve written in a meta about the canon voldemort’s capacity for fatherhood that i think his relationship with delphini is best thought of as akin to the relationship a child might have with their parents’ family friend, and i think that applies to the tom of one year in every ten too.

[not least because this is exactly how i imagine his relationship with rodolphus and rabastan…]

which is to say that i think they will absolutely get along - i am committed to the idea that they are very similar personality wise, that delphini shares lots of his little quirks [marzipan and crosswords coming in clutch], and that the parts of her which remind him of bellatrix are something he refuses to let bother him because he’s never going to be able to properly acknowledge that he misses her - but that their relationship will always be cordial and superficial rather than resembling anything actually familial.

and i think that’s fine! it’s obviously a damning indictment of tom that he’s been beaten to a pulp in the paternal role-model stakes by… rodolphus lestrange, but it’s also better for everyone if he isn’t expected to assume sole responsibility for delphini’s welfare and if she isn’t expected to have to rely on him for any sort of emotional guidance. she can accept that he’s not dead any more [which i think she probably won’t find too hard - she’s inherited her father’s canonical predisposition towards mysticism], he can have his fortnightly trips to see her - not not something he’s keen on because he can lie on the terrace of roddy’s safehouse like a snake on a big, flat rock - and they can make fun of harry in parseltongue and that can be that.

and yet…

tom is of the opinion that he is very much lacking in paternal instinct and that he and delphini will never have a normal father-daughter relationship. he is also a hypocrite, a pathological liar, and a human being incapable - no matter how much he hates that he can’t - of going through the world as an automaton. the tom of one year in every ten has also obviously had some… experiences which have given him a slightly more stable sense of self than he had when harry blasted him in the head with his own killing curse [which means, i think, that he is able to not resent the fact that delphini wasn’t dragged up in an orphanage, as well as to find it faintly amusing, rather than rage-inducing, that she looks exactly like him]. and so he has found himself - while, of course, he would say that this doesn’t indicate anything at all - invested in the idea that his daughter is safe and happy, and vaguely aware that this is something it’s his responsibility to contribute to.

and maybe - although i think it might take quite a while - he might one day actually be able to interrogate that feeling…

stranger things have happened.

when it comes to delphini herself, something i really like that you can do with her as a character is show how both bellatrix and voldemort’s traits can be read much less negatively than they are in canon in someone who doesn’t doom herself in the narrative’s eyes by continually trying to murder its hero. i like her being just as single-minded and sly and brittle and prone to monologuing as her father and as haughty and loyal and hot-tempered as her mother - and i also like her being as clever and [and this is something i feel gets left out of a lot of fanon versions of bellamort] funny as both of her parents - and this being something which just makes her a fully-rounded and interesting character rather than an irredeemable villain.

but something i’m really wedded to in her characterisation is the idea that the person she’d remind harry of… is tonks.

it seems to be really common for andromeda to be written in fanfic as quite cold - and, sure, the only time we see her in canon she’s not exactly rolling out the red carpet for harry and hagrid - and for all of tonks’ personality to come via ted. i’ve never really vibed with that - and so i’ve always preferred to imagine andromeda [and bellatrix] as being, in their youths, very much like the tonks we see in canon: bolshy and rebellious and messy and cheeky and possessed of a very eclectic fashion sense. i think it’s a really important counter to the black-and-white divide between good people, who are nice, and bad people, who are horrible, in the series for harry [and ron and hermione and ginny etc.] to have to realise that someone who unleashed as much destruction on the world as bellatrix could have been so similar to a woman they all adored; and for tom to have to confront the fact that delphini’s only living cousin is draco - who we know he takes quite a dim view of - and it’s entirely his and bella’s own fault.

[and - some shameless self-promo - i’ve actually written a fic on this topic - everlasting ink.]

of course, the other interesting one year in every ten question is what's going to happen when tom meets harry's children. and the answer... is coming sooner than you think...

[allthemusic]

Week ending: 5th November

I sometimes load up a song only to realise it's already in my liked songs. Usually this is not a huge surprise to me, but I have to say, this one confused me - I have no memories of ever seeing it or its artist before, but apparently I liked it enough to save it to my liked songs? However that happened, that probably bodes well, right?

Red River Rock - Johnny and the Hurricanes (peaked at Number 3)

Okay, still no idea where I've come across this before, but I can confirm that I was 100% right to put it into my liked songs. It's a little slice of instrumental rock and roll goodness, based on a cowboy folk song called Red River Valley about - you guessed it - the Red River Valley in Manitoba, so just north of places like Dakota and Minnesota. This original song was written initially around 1870, when an expedition set out there to put down the so-called Red River Rebellion, which was apparently the first big crisis Canada faced after confederating as one entity in 1867. The local Métis population, in particular, who were mostly French-speakers, didn't appreciate the new English-speaking governor, and set up their own provisional government, prompting the Wolseley Expedition to be sent out as a way of reinforcing official Canadian power. It wasn't a complete defeat for the Métis, though - off the back of talks that were held, separate French education for Métis children and protection of Catholicism were obtained, and Manitoba was cemented as an official Canadian state.

All this, of course, is a fascinating but ultimately rather irrelevant side-tangent to a song that in practice is barely about the Red River Rebellion. Sure, it's presumed to be written from the perspective of a local Métis woman, who's fallen in love with a soldier, and is sad that he's now going to be packing up and going back east. But the result are lyrics that could be about anybody separated from their love - the universality of it, as a theme, is doubtless a large part of the reason the song has survived the test of time. And then this particular version takes it one step further away from its original historical context by turning it into a rock and roll instrumental, with a Hammond organ taking over the main melody line. So yeah, interesting history that I had absolutely no idea about, but not actually crucial to know.

I will say that adapting a folk song does immediately have one big advantage, which is that you're looking at a tune that's by definition catchy enough to have stood the test of time, and simple enough that people will remember it. There's also, I guess, a built in audience who will recognise it at least well enough to go "huh, that sounds familiar" - even if you don't know the specific tune, there are definite echoes of other folk classics like She'll Be Coming Round the Mountain. So it feels a very comfortable thing - you can feel exactly where the tune's going, in a very reassuring way. It's the same trick that Bill Haley was pulling all the way back on tracks like The Saints' Rock and Roll or Rockin' Through the Rye, and it's just as effective here as it was there.

I also think that the Hammond organ and sax combination here adds something really distinctive and memorable to the track. There's a sort of raucous, boisterous sense of swagger to it all. Add in a thumpy set of drums and a guitar bassline that's chuggy and bluesy, and you've got something that honestly sounds a little bit glam rock, to me. I mean, listen to this, and tell me that you couldn't imagine a band like Slade pulling off a pretty decent cover? It's trememdously good music for headbanging to, the sort of record I could absolutely imagine people putting on for a spin at their 1959 Christmas parties. What it lacks in subtlety, it absolutely makes up in fun.

I didn't mention this elsewhere, so I will mention it here: Johnny and the Hurricanes is also an absolutely badass band name. 10/10.

I'm really digging some of these instrumental tracks you're beginning to get, here. This one, in particular, really tickled something in my brain - I think it's the repetition of the tune, and the way you can really quickly pick it up. I also enjoy some Hammond organ. There are very few songs that aren't improved by a Hammond organ, and combined with sax, it just creates this awesome, full, warm rock and roll sound that I kind of love. Plus I learnt some history about how Canada became Canada. Which is a nice bonus to a song I already was enjoying. So yeah, good job to past me, I guess - this can sta in my liked songs.

Favourite song of the tangentially Canadian bunch: Red River Rock

[tilbageidanmark]

Movies I watched this week (#168):

First watch: Hitchcock’s third feature, the 1927 silent The Lodger: A Story of the London Fog, which established him as a 'thriller master'. It shows an early fascination with themes that will occupy him for decades: An innocent man falsely accused, association between sex and murder, his obsession with blondes, the fear of authority. 9/10.

🍿  

5 Classic re-watches:

🍿 "The worst thing that can happen in sports was 4th-place at the Olympics.”

My 3rd or 4th visit with Aaron Sorkin's masterful debut, Molly's Game [His two follow-up features 'The Trial of the Chicago 7' and 'Being the Ricardos' were forgettable]. Why is it so engaging? Mostly for the impeccable script which should be read simultaneously. But also, for the sharp dialogue, crisp editing, and spectacular performances from Jessica Chastain. A real-life champion superhero, who excels in anything she sets her mind to, a mesmerizing strong women, with a vulnerable father-daughter hole in her heart.

It also featured powerhouse acting from everybody else in the cast, the male pigs (Kevin Costner, Jeremy Strong, Michael Cera, Brian d'Arcy James, Bill Camp, Chris O'Dowd) and the two 'Mensches' (lawyer Idris Elba and judge Graham Greene). I loved that the move from LA to NYC happened at exactly 1:08, the precise mid-point of the movie, but then you wouldn't expect anything else from the play-writer, would you? 10/10. ♻️

🍿 There are movies that most people will only watch once, and Schindler's List is on top of the list. But after 'The Zone of Interest' I had to re-visit it, feeling that it probably did not age well, and wouldn't compare to ‘Zone’, (which I consider the Best movie of 2024, so far). I was mostly wrong: It was 'Auschwitz given the exaggerated Spielberg treatment', with atrocious accents and manipulative sentimentality, but it's still better than most holocaust films. Schindler was converted from being a war profiteer into a saint, and Amon Göth stayed a mad monster in and out. 'Night and fog' and 'Shoah' are still better introductions to the subject, without the usual Hollywood simplified glorification. ♻️

🍿 The Dark Side of the Rainbow is the pairing of the Pink Floyd album 'The Dark Side of the Moon' with the film 'The Wizard of Oz'. This produces numerous moments of apparent synchronicity where the film and the album appear to correspond. It does work, but the record has to be played 2.5 times, which raises the possibility that you could tack it on most anything. Two psychedelic classics. Flying monkeys, pink horses and the man behind the curtain. Available on 'Internet Archive'. ♻️

🍿  "Let's invent surrealism!" said Buñuel to his creative buddy Salvador Dalí, probably while on ether – or absinthe. And so they did. First with 'Un Chien Andalou' and the following year with L'Age d'Or. It must have been so heady to create so much outrage and be so misunderstood. Everything that was holy, acceptable, and "normal" was trampled down and pissed on. And the scandals which followed were disruptive, the shocks sweet. Subversive, anti-bourgeois, Wagnerian. ♻️

🍿 "How do you know so much about swallows?" Monty Python and the Holy Grail, (or as it was called in Japanese "Holy Sake Cup"), one of the greatest comedies of all times, and containing 527 jokes. I didn't remember that the "Strange women lying in ponds distributing swords" concept originated here, at the 'self-perpetuating autocracy' scene. So quotable! 9/10. ♻️

🍿  

"I bid you good night..."

J-P Melville's minimalist directorial debut, The silence of the sea. During the occupation, an elderly man and his niece are forced to give shelter to a Nazi officer at their home in the country. The conscientious German tries to engage them with respectful dialogue every night, but their only response to him, their only way of resistance, is with total silence. 💯 score on Rotten Tomatoes. (Photo Above).

🍿  

My Favorite Wife, another Cary Grant vehicle, belonging to the 'Comedy of re-marriage' sub-genre, which was popular in the 30's and 40's ('The Philadelphia Story', etc.). He's marrying a second wife, but gets back with first wife Irene Dunne who was presumed dead. But mostly, it's notable for the visibly bisexual vibes between him and real-life boyfriend Randolph Scott.

🍿  

2 more from Paweł Pawlikowski:

🍿 "My mum loves men who make her cry..."

Last resort (2000), my 6th soulful film by favorite Polish director, his first in English. A young Russian woman comes to England with her 10-year-old son, but the man she thinks of as her fiance, never shows up at the airport. She gets desperately stuck in a bureaucratic limbo while waiting for a political asylum she had asked for by mistake, until she meets decent guy Paddy Considine, another lonely "fucked up" soul. The run-down seaside town of Margate looks grim and unpleasant. 7/10.

🍿 Before venturing into fiction, Pawlikowski was known for his documentaries. Dostoevsky’s Travels was an early 1991 one. It's a strangely-staged story not about Fyodor Dostoevsky the novelist, but about Dimitri Dostoevsky, his tram-driver great-grandson and only descendant. Dimitri leaves St. Petersburg for Berlin, Luxembourg and London, trying to cash in on his ancestor's good name among literary fans in the west, so that he can buy a used Mercedes Benz, and bring it back to Mother Russia. It sounds like fiction made by Borat, and maybe it is.

🍿  

My first Kaiju film ever, the original Godzilla (1954), the giant monster. A collective Japanese reaction to the destruction caused by the Atomic bombing, with identical shots of incineration and devastation. With 'Ikiru's Takashi Shimura. With the exception of 'Jaws', I don't think I ever had any interest in disaster movies like this. 2/10.

Extra: Fire! (1901), one of the first 'Disaster films' ever, and my third short by Scottish pioneer James Williamson. Showing firefighters rescuing victims from a house fire.

🍿  

Allied (2016), a glossy historical drama a-la 'Casablanca', also taking place in Morocco during the WW2 and also dealing with spies and romance. With Brad Pitt as Bogart, and Marion Cotillard as Bergman having steamy sex during a sandstorm. Any movie that uses Django Reinhardt in the score is OK with me.

🍿  

Arthur Penn's disappointing adaptation of Arlo Guthrie's 18-minute blues anthem Alice's Restaurant. While the song is a perennial Thanksgiving classic, and the voices of Guthrie (and Pete Seeger) are distinct and beloved, the movie is a weak attempt to capture the Hippy spirit of the late 1960's. Counter-culture at its worst.

The acting was also terrible all around, with two exceptions: Tina Chen, who played Janice for 2 minutes in 'Three days of the condor', was lovely here too, and M. Emmet Walsh stood out as 'Group W Sergeant', in his first ever small film role. Roger Ebert created the “Stanton-Walsh Rule,” which held that (nearly) no movie featuring either Harry Dean Stanton or M. Emmet Walsh in a supporting role can be altogether bad. This is one of the exceptions.

RIP, M. Emmet Walsh!

🍿  

Breaking news, my first (and last) inane action story from Hong Kong director Johnnie To. The only different detail from hundreds of other like this is the elder policeman who buys a hot sweet potato from a street vendor, and farts loudly the rest of the movie. 1/10.

🍿  

Lammbock, another lousy German stoner comedy from 2001. Might as well be called 'Toking and driving'. Unfunny, low-budget and dirty feeling. 1/10.

🍿  

3 Shorts:

🍿 Tribute to the teachers, a 1977 Iranian short film directed by Abbas Kiarostami. A time capsule of social idealism just before the revolution.

🍿 Good Night, Nurse (1918), my second silent two-reeler with "Fatty" Arbuckle & Buster Keaton, about a drunk who's admitted to a sanitarium in order to cure him for alcoholism

🍿 Pusling ("Crybaby"), a 2008 Danish film about a 3rd grade girl who's being bullied by a class mate. Typically Danish, but not that great.

/ Female Director

🍿

Throw-back to the "Art project”:  

Hitchcock Adora.

🍿  

(My complete movie list is here)

[firelise]

Okay, since its the end of the year and I promised. Here's a master list of these black-led films and where to watch them (apparently many of yall never heard of any of these. wild.)

CHEVALIER

Available to watch: on Hulu (or rent/purchase on other platforms)

Genre: Historical, Period-Piece

This movie was in theaters earlier this spring. One of my favorite movie-going experiences at my local indie theater. After I bought my ticket this elderly alabaster woman decked out in LL Bean swag asked if I was going to watch some super niche french film and I said no, I was going to see Chevalier and she said "Oh, you're gonna love it, I just saw that last week. EXCELLENT." And then I saw it and I immediately got goosebumps at the opening scene and the music. And then I walked outside into an 18th Century garden on a gorgeous spring day and read my lil book and listened to the soundtrack. Bliss.

Anyways, this is a film about Chevalier de Saint-Georges aka Joseph Bologne, an iconic historical French figure with an absolutely insane life. I cannot IMAGINE. I feel like a lot of white viewers didn't understand the magnitude and impossibility of his existence or the fact that he even got to meet let alone know his mother as the child of an enslaved Creole woman and the man who owned her. He is a prodigy, a master swordsman, a master violinist, a composer who rivaled Mozart, and as shown in this film, was a smart-ass, a fashionista, a whore, and Marie Antoinette's token Black BFF. The film catalogues the period prior to the French Revolution (which Joseph later helps fund and lead a battalion of 'citizens of color' into battle). It highlights themes about what it means to embody Black Excellence™ and how it is ultimately meaningless and futile under white supremacy. It is. So. Good. Make more of these.

THEY CLONED TYRONE

Available to watch: on Netflix

Genre: Comedy, Mystery, Sci-fi

A meme unto itself. There's not much to say without spoiling it, but this is a HILARIOUS film about the truth that lies beneath Black conspiracy theories. Every word that comes out of Jamie Foxx and Teyonah Parris' mouths is absolute gold. I don't know how they got through any take in this film without laughing. Weird, bizarre, and wonderful. The ending is wonderful, as well.

It is a film-noir mystery movie masked as stylish 70s Blaxploitation film you have to watch more than once to catch all the clues and hidden gems. As described by IMBd: Fontaine, a neighborhood drug dealer, is shot dead by rival Isaac and then is very shocked to wake up in his bed the next morning unharmed. He and Slick Charles (Foxx) and Yo-Yo (Parris) begin looking into the incident, and their search eventually leads them to a vast underground complex where a government backed lab is performing experiments on the local Black population.

A THOUSAND AND ONE

Available to watch: on Prime (or rent/purchase on other platforms)

Genre: Drama, Family

Teyana Taylor. That's it. Need I say more. The woman can do it all. A very down home 90s Harlem film featuring THEE Harlem girlie herself. Gut-wrenchingly points out the racist flaws inherent in the entire foster-care system and the way it targets already poor and marginalized folks and separates families needlessly. Also won a bunch of awards. Watch if you wanna cry.

From IMBd: Unapologetic and free-spirited Inez kidnaps her six-year-old son Terry from the foster care system. Holding onto their secret and each other, mother and son set out to reclaim their sense of home, identity, and stability, in a rapidly changing New York City.

RYE LANE

Available to watch: on Hulu (and Disney+ UK)

Genre: Rom-Com

Oh, y'all wanted a Rom-Com? With 2 darkskin leads? Hello?

This British film stars David Jonsson (who I love in Industry on HBO) as Dom and Vivian Oparah as Yas. These two South London teens meet as strangers after recently getting over bad breakups. Over the course of one day, they help solve each other's problems and maybe even fall in love a little, who knows? :)

Dom is pathetic lovesick uptight puppy boy and Yas is aggressive over-the-top free spirit. Chefs kiss. A pleasant time. I wouldn't mind a sequel.

THE PERFECT FIND

Available to watch: on Netflix

Genre: Rom-Com

Again, yall dont wanna watch Gabrielle Union get her fine 51-year-old coochie eaten out by a twenty something year old who's obsessed with her?? I guess we just different. Also GINA motherfucking TORRES. Hilarious and dressed to the nines playing a miranda priestly mean boss lady media mogul character (and speaking Spanish as she should). Like? Run don't walk. There is also a subplot that Gabrielle's character is really into preserving vintage African American fashion garments and I thought it was really rad.

From IMBd: Everything is at stake for a 40-year-old woman: her career, her ticking biological clock, and her bank account. She risks it all for an intense, secret romance with the one person who could destroy her comeback (her boss's son).

THE ANGRY BLACK GIRL AND HER MONSTER

Available to watch: on AMC+ (or with Prime or Youtube TV, also available for rent/purchase on other platforms)

Genre: Horror, Sci-fi

For the Horror and Sci-fi girlies. A highly praised modern retelling of Frankenstein.

From LA Times: Vicaria (Laya DeLeon Hayes), a brilliant teenager who has lost both her mother and sibling to brutal gun violence. Using her impressive scientific know-how, Vicaria attempts to bring the reassembled corpse of her older brother Chris (Edem Atsu-Swanzy) back to life. For the brainy young girl referred to by her neighbors as “The Mad Scientist,” death is presented as a disease that she wishes to cure.

THE BLACKENING

Available to watch: on Starz (or with Prime and available to rent/purchase on other platforms)

Genre: Comedy, Horror

Just a fun good comedy slasher movie time. I cackled out loud several times watching it. Like just FUN. And a quick 90 minutes. Wrapped up in a neat lil bow. Made me want to ask my uncle to teach me to play spades again. Will I learn? No, absolutely not.

In this movie, seven friends go away for Juneteenth weekend and end up playing an antebellum-era board game to test their Blackness that leads to them trapped in a cabin with a killer. When put to the test, which one of them will they choose to sacrifice and who can figure out the game long enough to stay alive?

THE BURIAL

Available to watch: on Prime

Genre: Comedic Legal Drama

Jamie Foxx back at it again serving drama pastor/lawyer realness. Hilarious, mesmerizing, and based on a true story. Also Tommy Lee Jones?? A legend he's so great in this. Every time you think what more could happen next, this movie ups the ante. It just keeps rising and rising and rising. Enjoyed it way more than I expected to. A hidden gem. Also Jurnee Smollett, say less.

From IMDb: When a handshake deal goes sour, funeral home owner Jeremiah O'Keefe (Jones) enlists charismatic, smooth-talking attorney Willie E. Gary (Foxx) to save his family business. Tempers flare and laughter ensues as the unlikely pair bond while exposing corporate corruption and racial injustice in this inspirational, triumphant story.

RUSTIN

Available to watch: on Netflix

Genre: Historical, Biopic

This film came from the Obama's Higher Ground Productions (which was also responsible for Leave the World Behind? interesting). A biopic on the great Bayard Rustin, advisor to Martin Luther King Jr., is something long long overdue. The queer icon is literally singularly responsible for the March on Washington (without which there would be no I Have a Dream and probably no Civil Rights Act) and had his accomplishments diminished due to his sexuality. Starring the iconic Coleman Domingo as Rustin (perfect casting as Coleman is also openly queer). Also all the favs: Audra McDonald, Jeffrey Wright, Da'Vine Joy Randolph, Aml Ameen, and Chris Rock is there too (boo but hes the villain).

This movie is not as radical as it could be and a little bit too pro-centrist for my taste, but what can you expect from an Obama production? Still, a much-needed film. More biopics on queer Black icons please.

CREED III

Available to watch: on Prime (or rent/purchase on other platforms)

Genre: Action, Sports Drama

The latest in the Rocky movie series. You've heard of it. Big man run big man train big man punch punch. Starring, co-produced, and directed by Michael B Jordan himself and featuring miss ma'am Tessa Thompson.

From IMDb: Adonis has been thriving in both his career and family life, but when a childhood friend and former boxing prodigy resurfaces (played by Jonathan Majors), the face-off is more than just a fight.

Non-Black People only, I'm curious, how many of these 2023 big box office/streaming Black-led films have you watched?

Chevalier

They Cloned Tyrone

A Thousand and One

Rye Lane

The Perfect Find

The Angry Black Girl and Her Monster

The Blackening

The Burial

Rustin

Creed III

(share for larger sample size pls also lmk your fav Black films this year if you have any!)

[bakumu-archive]

to capture a star

rich!Daichi x fem!reader

wc: 13k

summary: when daichi asks you to go with him to his family’s cabin during spring break, the last thing you expect is to be greeted by a giant mansion. Will the money and social life scare you away or will you be able to find love with daichi, despite being thrown into a world of fast cars and expensive clothing?

cw: rich people, SMUT (daddy, praise, biting, feral daichi, unprotected sex, creampie), pining, racing, one punch, blood (from the punch), alcohol, insecurity, mild jealousy, possessive daichi, side kiyoko x tanaka, probably ooc

a/n: this is for the rich boy collab hosted by @bakugohoex​! be sure to check out all the other submissions! you can find the link to the masterlist here

terushima is an asshole in this and i'm sorry, i love him but i needed a captain to be sleazy and he volunteered. he told me he couldn't resist hitting on a cutie like you, and who am i to stop him.

check out the mood boards i made here and shout out to my beautiful beta reader @winniethepoohloathesyou​ for working so hard on this with me!

minors do not interact. this work contains mature themes and if you continue reading you have agreed you are willing to see such content

When Daichi sat down next to you in your econ class last week and asked you to come to his family cabin during spring break, this is not what you imagined. 

You thought that you would be able to spend some time alone with him, enjoying nature together in a small house nestled in the forest, spending enough time together to finally put a label on whatever the spark was between the two of you.

But no.

You blink rapidly and take a good look at your new surroundings, trying to make sense of what your eyes see. Before you stands the largest house you have ever seen. But just calling it a house would be an extreme understatement. 

This place is a mansion. Three stories of white brick detailed with elaborate stone embellishments. The gray mansard roof’s steep slope meets at the top with a fenced stone parapet. An elaborate garden extends between you and the house and you swear you can see an Olympic-sized swimming pool nestled into the courtyard. And this isn't even the front of the house. You blink in disbelief when you spot a giant race track off to your left and what looks like a massive, ten-car garage. The scent of sea air assaults your senses and when your gaze flickers to your right, you can see the ocean and the mansion's very own harbor. 

And none of that even includes how you got here: on a private jet, landing on a personal runway where you currently stand. 

The beat-up duffle bag you use for your family’s camping trips that hangs from your shoulder suddenly feels very wrong in a way you can't explain.

You turn to face Daichi as he joins you on the tarmac. “Daichi, this is your family cabin?” you ask wide-eyed, your voice sounding so high-pitched that you barely recognize it. 

He rubs the back of his neck, one of his nervous habits. “Yeah, it's kind of embarrassing. I used to spend all of my summers here with my siblings but now the house barely gets used,” he says sheepishly.

Before you can ask any more questions, the loud rumbling of car engines interrupts your conversation and you see two sports cars taking two corners on the track before barreling down the straight of the runway towards you at top speed. 

“Ah, those two are here already, I see,” Daichi grins. He takes your duffle bag from you, throwing the strap over his shoulder and pulling you closer to him while wrapping his arm around your waist. 

The cars roar to a stop right behind the jet, creating the perfect image, an Instagram influencer’s wet dream. 

Daichi leans over to whisper in your ear as they both get out of the cars, “The one in the red Ferrari LaFerrari is Kuroo Tetsuro and the one in the white Lamborghini Aventador is Bokuto Kotaro.”

The two are pointing fingers at each other as they get out of their cars bickering and you can see the wealth dripping off them. The man with the spiky black hair, that Daichi told you was Kuroo, is pointing back in the direction they came from as he closes his car door, while Bokuto, with his spiky gray hair, pouts, throwing his hands up in mock innocence. Both of them grab a bag from the trunks of their cars, still arguing with each other before Kuroo places his arm around Bokuto in a show of faux peace before they start walking towards you and Daichi.

“They're both idiots,” he pauses to watch Bokuto swat at Kuroo’s arm, “but they are actually really good guys.”

The two of them are still heated, poking at each other's chests as they reach you and Daichi, only stopping when he coughs to grab their attention.

“Are you two done yet?” he questions with a raised eyebrow.

“Daichi, I was faster, wasn't I?” whined Bokuto, giving Daichi and you a small pout as Kuroo pats his shoulder, leaning slightly closer to you.

“This must be Y/N. She’s cuter than you said Dai,” Kuroo says with a laugh.

You miss the way that Daichi’s cheeks start to turn pink because you were so taken aback at his statement. Daichi told his friends about you? His apparently super rich friends?

Daichi’s grip around your waist tightens slightly before he responds, “Guys this is Y/N L/N. Please, don't annoy her too much.”

Both of their heads perk up at that.

“Oh yeah Daichi, we will be perfect saints,” Kuroo smirks.

Bokuto matches Kuroo’s playfully devious look, suddenly over his apparent loss on the track. “Oh yeah, nothing but angels.”

Before Daichi has time to wipe the smiles off their faces, you hear the sound of helicopter blades whirring above.

You look around until you see it fly directly overhead. The sound fills the air as the helicopter starts its descent onto the helipad next to the parked jet.

The helicopter blades whip up the grass and plants all around, and you have to place your hand on your head to prevent your own hair from being messed up by the whirlwind. 

You look over to Bokuto and Kuroo to see them fiercely trying to protect their hair spikes from the wind and failing. Daichi follows your gaze and when he sees them, he lets out a laugh in full force.

The helicopter makes a soft landing and the blades slow down when the engine turns off and two people step out. 

The most beautiful girl you have ever seen in your life hops out from the operator's seat, throwing her gorgeous black hair over her shoulder as she walks over to the man holding his hand out for her, hoisting their designer bags over his shoulder.

“Kiyoko, Tanaka, I'm so glad that you guys could make it,” Daichi smiles at the couple as they approach.

Daichi lets go of your waist so he can give the two of them a proper hug, before introducing you.

“This is Y/N.”

Kiyoko walks up to you and grabs your hands in hers and smiles at you, “Finally another girl. It's about time.”

Tanaka laughs, “What, babe? Are you getting tired of us?”

She lets go of your hands so she can give Tanaka a playful slap to the chest, “You know that's not what I meant, Ryu. It'll be nice to have someone to get ready for the gala with!”

You feel Daichi slightly flinch next to you at the mention of a gala.

Your brows furrow as you ask, “A what now? Daichi never mentioned anything about a gala.”

You turn to him, questioningly, and he moves his hand to the back of his neck for the second time in ten minutes. 

“It's nothing really, just this huge party my family has hosted for years. We really wouldn't even have to go if you don't want to…” the last few words trail off before he is interrupted by Kiyoko.

“What are you saying Daichi, you have to go! It's your family's gala.” Her brows are furrowed and she is looking at him suspiciously.

Daichi lets out an exasperated sigh, “Well that's a discussion for the future. Let’s go settle into our rooms.”

Daichi puts his arm around your shoulders as he leads the group up to the back porch, walking through the garden and around the giant swimming pool and fire pit area. 

“I assume you four are taking your normal rooms?” Daichi asks the group.

They all nod before splitting in different directions, obviously understanding the intricate layout of the house after what you assume is years of friendship. 

Daichi leads you through the first floor, pointing out various rooms and points of interest as you take in the vastness of your new surroundings. Most of the rooms have white or cream-colored walls with very intricate crown molding. Some have very distinct and uncomfortable furniture that looks like it has never been used, while others look like they are ready for a full day of lounging. He even takes you past the bowling alley and the in-home movie theater.

Eventually, he leads you to a huge staircase that circles around the main entryway to the house. The whole room looks like it's made out of marble and you take a twirling step to bask in the grandness of the space. 

Daichi calls out to you, pulling you back into reality. He has one foot on the first step and his hand is outstretched for you to take.

“You coming?” he smiles at you, wiggling his fingers, waiting for you to take his hand. 

When you do, you hold on to it like it's your lifeline, the only anchor you have in this unfamiliar territory. He leads you up two flights of stairs to the third floor and then down a large hallway filled with doors and golden crown molding.

He stops in front of a door before saying, “Well, this is you,” and moving your duffle bag back to your shoulder, letting his hand linger on your skin until he forces himself to pull away. 

“I’m right here across the hall if you need anything, alright?” he reassures you with a smile.

You nod at him, trying to process all of the new information you've just taken in, before putting your hand on the doorknob and turning away from him.

He calls out to you before you go inside, “Why don't you take an hour or so — take a shower, there's a bathroom attached to the suite — and then when you come down to the kitchen, we can get some snacks?”

You turn to face him again, narrowing your eyes at him with a pout, “Is this your way of telling me I smell?”

His laughter fills the hallway. “No, I just want you to relax. This is your vacation too, ya know?” His smile is contagious and you can't help but smile back at him, really hoping that a shower will help as he says.

“Okay Daichi, I'll try.”

With that you enter the bedroom, closing the door behind you before resting your head on the wood, letting out a very small sigh.

You try to relax like Daichi said by taking a warm shower, but everything was way too nice. The grand marble shower and the elegant tile tub just serve to remind you that you are in a world different than your own, giving you more anxiety than relaxation. 

You manage to get through your shower: fiddling with all of the button options to turn the water off, grabbing a plush towel to dry off, and then changing into some of the clothes that you packed.

You head back out to the bedroom in a huff and take another look around, half expecting the room to have transformed into a new one completely, but you are glad that it's just as you left it. 

The massive four-poster bed sits against one wall next to the room's giant floor-to-ceiling windows that let in the afternoon light, casting long shadows on the fireplace gracing the opposite wall and the plush sitting area in front of it.

You flop yourself on the bed, arms stretching out and you curse at how comfortable the mattress is. 

Who would have guessed the handsome boy you met in your econ class was this filthy rich.

You don't want your brain to fantasize but your thoughts drift there anyways as you sit up to sort through your clothes; it dreams of a future where this could be all yours. It's not like you weren't dreaming about a future with Daichi before, but now you’re imagining paying off your student loans, using some money to help your struggling friends and family, or maybe going even bigger than that, like starting a business or a charity to really help people. 

You have to stop yourself from going too far. You shouldn’t spiral with these thoughts because that's the big issue: you and Daichi, what are you really?

You were instantly infatuated with him when he smiled at you during your first economics lecture together just a few months ago. Sitting next to each other, passing a notebook back and forth drawing little doodles together when you should have been paying attention. The chemistry between the two of you only grew when you started studying together and he invited you out to party with some of his friends. 

The two of you have even shared a few make-out sessions together at said parties, but the next day when you expected things to be awkward or to at least have a discussion about what it meant, Daichi always acted like everything was normal, like the two of you hadn't had your tongues down each other throats the night before. 

And that's not to mention how he always seems to be holding your hand, or hooking his arm around you, giving you butterflies at every turn. He always seems to be more touchy when other guys are around, but you can say that you do the same. Hugging him back tighter when other girls look his way.

In the beginning, the small touches and longing glances you shared in class slowly turned to long hugs and holding hands. You thought that maybe Daichi was this way with all of his friends, but when he introduced you to his roommates, Asahi and Sugawara, you noticed that he isn’t that touchy with them. It seems to be something only reserved for you.

You think of all the shared touches that you've had just today and your heart flutters. It's like when the two of you touch, your heart is instantly filled with happiness that calms your soul. His touch just feels right and being with him feels as easy as breathing.

If soulmates do exist, you can imagine that this is what it feels like. 

You let out a deep sigh, shaking away your thoughts, before you decide to make your way down to the kitchen to meet up with the others.

You follow the voices through the maze of corridors and staircases to the kitchen, thank god they are a noisy bunch. 

Everyone is gathering around the huge kitchen island, with bowls of chips, candy, and other snacks scattered around, and there seem to be two different conversations going on.

Daichi has his back to you, and you walk up next to him, putting your head on his shoulder. He looks down, throwing his arm around you, pulling you into his space more before whispering, “How was your shower?”

You wrap your arms around his waist before shrugging your shoulders, choosing to instead focus on the conversation that Tanaka and Kuroo are having. Daichi grabs a few of the bowls of snacks and pulls them closer to you, taking a big handful of food for himself.

Kuroo lets out a loud annoyed groan before explaining, “Oikawa just texted me that he’s going to dock here for the night.”

You sense the mounting tension in the air and take a handful of snacks, ready to take in whatever drama that was about to unfold.

The mention of the name you are unfamiliar with seems to bring the other conversation to a close as everyone focuses their attention on Kuroo and his phone. 

Daichi lets out an exasperated sigh. “I could have sworn I told him to keep that thing away from here,” he says, rubbing his hand down his face in annoyance. 

“He's bringing that party boat here? During gala week?” Kiyoko adds, blowing hair out of her face with a huff. 

“Eh, I'm not going to complain, it's always full of hot babes,” Tanaka says right before a smack lands on his chest from Kiyoko. He pulls her into him, playfully kissing her cheeks, “No one is hotter than you babe, you know that.”

She rolls her eyes at his response but seems to accept his apology.

Not having any idea about who or what they are talking about you pipe up, “Who’s coming?”

Daichi lets out a big sigh before explaining, “Oikawa is this guy we grew up with, he’s a big flirt with an even bigger yacht. It's pretty much a giant party boat that he fills with supermodels.” You can practically feel the way Daichi’s eyes roll at the notion of a party boat stacked to the nines with supermodels.

Bokuto moves to Daichi’s other side, leaning over the island looking around him at you with a wide smile and adds, “Not to mention the alcohol and drugs.”

“Yes, yes, Bokuto, we all know why you enjoy Oikawa’s visits,” Daichi retorts, shaking his head and laughing.

“He just texted again,” Kuroo says with an annoyed groan. “Says he's going to be docking in three hours.”

“Well, what do you guys want to do until he gets here?” Daichi asks, taking a big handful of pretzels from a bowl close to him.

“We could go for a race around the track,” Kuroo says with a devilish smile.

Bokuto lets out an excited yell before pointing at Kuroo and exclaiming, “Hell yeah, lets go!”

Everyone heads outside into the evening sun. The warmth that the sun provided during the afternoon seems to be fading, giving the air a slight chill. 

Kuroo and Bokuto run with their hands in the air from the house to their cars before starting them and speeding off towards the track while Daichi leads you, Tanaka, and Kiyoko to the large ten-car garage that spans the side of the house.

He opens a side door leading everyone into the garage, pressing a big button on the wall causing all of the garage doors to begin opening, filling the space with light.

Your eyes widen when you look at the millions of dollars worth of vehicles equally spaced with precision in front of you. While you recognize some brands: Lamborghini, Ferrari, Bugatti, and Mercedes, there are more that you don't, and your eyes glaze over at the pure wealth displayed in the garage.

Tanaka's excited voice pulls you from your haze as he practically jumps up and down in place, “Can we take the Bugatti?” he shouts questioningly, making you jump.

“Sure thing,” Daichi replies as he takes the keys to the Bugatti Veyron SS off the hook and tosses them to Kiyoko.

You watch her unlock the car and climb into the driver's seat as Tanaka jumps into the passenger seat next to her. The engine roars to life and she carefully pulls it out of the garage before she peels off towards the track, leaving you and Daichi alone in the garage. 

“So, do you see a car you like?” he questions, his eyes following the car as it barrels around a corner.

The first real time alone with him since landing here and he decides to ignore the elephant in the room? You wouldn’t be surprised if there was actually an elephant around here somewhere.

You ignore his question and turn to face him, “Dai, what the fuck. What is this place? How are you so rich?” 

“I'm not rich, my parents are,” he quickly retorts, turning to face you.

“That's exactly what a rich person would say,” you roll your eyes at him.

“I know you must feel pretty deceived right now; it was so nice when I was just Daichi to you, not the heir to this big conglomerate worth millions of dollars,” he walks close to you, moving to place his hands on your shoulders but stopping himself, and lets his hands fall to the side almost in defeat. 

“My dad is this huge businessman and he has all these women who throw themselves at him because of his money. He's never been in love, even when he was with my Mom, and I didn’t want that. I don't want that. I want to be in love. I want to marry someone I'm in love with and not because it is what has been decided for me.” 

Of course, he would have a real reason that you couldn't get mad at. And of course, it’s romantic as hell. At least he’s being open about it now.

You look up at him, and you realize that this is the same Daichi that he's always been. Those are the same eyes that you've been looking at for months, the same hands that have held you so many times, the same Daichi as always, just a different setting.

“You know I'm not like that Dai, you could have told me,” you reply, your voice softer than it was earlier.

He takes a step closer, his hands reaching out and rubbing away at the stress in your shoulders.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry that I kept this hidden from you. I should have told you.” He sighs, closing the remaining space between the two of you and moving his hands to cup your face. “I just want you to understand what getting into a full relationship with me would mean.”

The way Daichi is looking at you makes your heart melt. His eyes reach your face in desperation, half expecting you to push him away but you just lean into his hands, closing your eyes and savoring his touch before you match his vulnerable gaze.

“What would a full relationship mean then, Daichi?” you practically purr at him.

“It means all this,” he says before kissing you lightly. “All the fun stuff, the cars, the houses, the private jets,” he kisses you again. “But it also comes with a lot of not fun stuff too.”

You take a deep breath before responding, heart pounding from the intimacy of the moment. “And what would happen if I said that I still wanted a relationship with you? Even with the not-fun stuff.”

His breath hitches before he smiles. “I'd give you everything,” he whispers, eyes searching yours again, thumbs caressing your lips softly as he still cradles your face in his hands. “I'd buy you the moon if you wanted it.”

“Good thing I don't want the moon then.” You grab his shirt, closing the gap between the two of you before kissing him.

His hands fall to your hips before he starts to push you backwards towards the Ferrari behind you, until your ass hits the car, never disconnecting from the kiss.  

His lips feel warm on yours as you get swept away into the moment with him. Your lips moving in tandem before his tongue expertly sweeps out at your bottom lip. You let out a moan, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth. 

His grip on your waist only gets harder when he starts to move his body against yours, rutting his hips against yours, letting out a small moan into your mouth.

If the two of you weren't so caught up in each other, you would have heard Kuroo pull up to the garage and step out of his car before just staring at the two of you locked in each other's embrace. He rests his cheek on his short car door before he reaches a hand inside his car to honk the horn. You and Daichi startle at the sound, pulling apart as Daichi sends Kuroo a death glare.

Kuroo lets out a loud laugh unaffected by Daichi’s glare. “Thanks for the show, but are we going to race or what?”

Daichi waves him off, looking back down at you, his eyes bouncing from your lips to your eyes, with a smirk, “Do you want to drive?”

You hear Kuroo drive away as you playfully smack Daichi’s chest before you exclaim, “God no!”

His eyes close as he chuckles at you, “Okay, fair. But which one do you want to take?”

You look around at the cars not really knowing too much about them, so you ask, “Which one is the fastest?”

He smirks at you and says, “That’s my girl,” before throwing an arm around your shoulder and grabbing the key for the white Koenigsegg Regera off the hook.

He walks you over to the passenger side of the car, opening the scissor door for you and watching you take a seat before pulling it closed and jogging to his side, getting in the car. 

The brown leather of the interior is a stark contrast to the white of the outside paint, and you find your body being cradled in the expensive bucket seat. Daichi leans over you, grabbing your seat belt and buckling it for you, bringing his face inches away from yours, teasing you before he buckles his own seat.

He pulls out of the garage slowly before putting the pedal to the floor and driving off towards the airstrip, racing around a few tight corners before he drives towards the runway where the other three cars are already lined up. 

Bokuto jumps off of his side fender when he sees you and Daichi approach and makes his way inside his car with an excited spring in his step. Kiyoko kisses Tanaka before making her way into her borrowed car and Kuroo, who was sitting cross-legged on the roof of his car watches the two of you pull up before jumping down and walking towards you.

Daichi meticulously lines up the front wheels with the other cars, before letting the engine idle, rolling down the window to talk to Kuroo.

When the rooster-haired man leans down to talk into the window, you don't miss his glance at you, before his eyes dart back to Daichi, and a small dusting of pink appears on his cheeks.

“We've decided we're doing a mile drag, first to cross the line wins, the loser has to make dinner and wash the dishes,” Kuroo announces.

Daichi looks over to you, intertwining your fingers and bringing them up to lips, kissing your knuckles, and a determined look crosses his face, his mouth turning up on the corner in a smirk. “Winner gets to pick what's for dinner, so you better decide what you want.”

His competitive side is something that you rarely see, usually only coming out when he's challenged, and the charged air around him has heat pooling between your legs. 

Daichi lets your hand go and starts going through the settings of the car, setting up the launch control, mumbling to himself as he remembers how to set it up, as Kuroo heads back to his car.

You hear the roar of the other engines as they come to life and look through Daichi’s window at the other drivers, all giving thumbs up, ready to start.

Before Daichi gives his thumbs-up, he turns to you, “Just keep your head back, alright?”

You give him a worried look, but comply, placing the back of your head on the headrest behind you. You're concerned about what to do with your hands so you decide to place them in your lap.

Daichi gives the thumbs up and rolls his window up, giving the engine a few revs before hovering his foot over the gas in wait.

You watch as a now shirtless Tanaka walks out in between the cars. You can barely hear him as he starts to count down from five, but when he gets to one, he starts waving his shirt in the air wildly and Daichi slams on the gas.

The world starts to blur as the car accelerates. The loud roar of the engine assaults your ears as your heart starts to beat faster from the sudden adrenaline rush. 

Time seems to slow as you go faster. You watch the speedometer increase: 60, 80,100, 120 and it’s still climbing.

The noise of the air rushes past as the car seamlessly cuts through and you feel your heart beating in your throat. 

You look over at Daichi to see a big smile on his face; he knows he’s winning and you take the time to look back as Kuroo is being passed by Kiyoko, and she's getting closer to Daichi.

You let out a laugh: the crazy speeds and all the adrenaline pumping through making your body seem like it's on fire.

You glance at the speedometer and watch it hit 240 mph before you and Daichi cross the finish line first and he slams on the brakes. You are very glad you listened to him about keeping your head back, or else you're sure you would have whiplash.

Daichi stops the car, putting it in park before turning to look at you, your eyes full of bewilderment as your body tries to process the fact that you're in one piece after such a rush. 

“Holy shit Dai! You won! We won! That was amazing!” you exclaim frantically to a smiling Daichi, laughing along with you as you stammer on about how fast it was. 

The other cars form a circle with the hoods facing each other, and you watch as everyone starts to get out.

Daichi nods his head towards the others, “Come on, let’s go gloat.”

Everyone sits or leans against the hood of their cars, and Daichi once again has you tucked under his arm. You laugh along with the group and their antics as they argue over the standings. The official decision was that Daichi won, which was unanimous, with Kiyoko taking second, followed by Kuroo and Bokuto. 

Bokuto said something about his launch control was being finicky before all of you hear whooping and yelling coming from a very out-of-breath Tanaka. He had apparently started running after the cars had left and was just now reaching the group.

Everyone is in high spirits as you talk for a bit and you seem to mesh seamlessly with them, throwing out a few quips that make Bokuto and Kuroo snort, teaming up with Kiyoko when the boys get too rowdy. It almost seems like you're not the new person in the group, that you’ve known them forever, and you are really happy that Daichi has surrounded himself with great people.

The rest of the evening was spent driving the cars and having long chats afterwards, about nothing and everything all at once. 

When it came time for dinner, since you and Dai were the winners, you got to decide what Bokuto was making for everyone. His attempt at your favorite dish left the kitchen filled with smoke and Daichi surprised everyone with pizza, even before talks of a back up plan for was discussed.

Then you heard the horn of a ship, followed by mixed reactions as the five of you clear up dinner and get ready to leave the mansion for the ‘sex ferry,’ as Bokuto called it.

Daichi gets closer to you and murmurs into your hair, “Watch out for pervs on the boat, stay close to me, yeah?” You nod, as you wrap your arm around his ready to leave.

That is, until Kiyoko stops Daichi before the two of you make it out the door, “I’m stealing her for a second, she can't go on a yacht dressed like that!”

You look yourself over in the mirror and you have to admit, Kiyoko did an excellent job dressing you up.

Your hair is perfectly styled and your face has just the right amount of makeup. Kiyoko crosses in front of the mirror applying the finishing touch: a shimmering lip gloss that is the perfect shade for you. The oversized, white knit sweater that she had you put on hangs loosely over your curves, tucked in perfectly into the brown skirt that she picked out for you. It's not a look that you would usually go for, but you have to give her credit, she did a good job, you look stunning.

On the way up to this ginormous closet, she had explained to you that Daichi’s sisters had this closet stocked with every size and designer label known to man, just in case any of their friends needed a last minute change of clothes. 

At first, you didn't believe her, but when you saw the enormous room with a rainbow of color-coordinated clothes hanging from floor to ceiling you changed your tune. You were even more shocked to find that all of the clothes still had their price tags on, wincing at the $1,000 price of one pair of pants.

Kiyoko gives you one last glance over before she starts to get herself ready, dressing in a black long-sleeved dress, the hem of the skirt falling just at her thighs and fishnet stockings, the exact opposite of the aesthetic she chose for you. 

She applies her red lipstick with a pop before turning to you, “Well, what do you think?’

She takes your hand and twirls you around so that you are facing the mirror before she rests her chin on your shoulder.

You laugh at her antics, before replying, “I think we look hot!”

The two of you make your way down to the boat, exiting the mansion through a side door and make your way down to the dock.

Now that you are up close to the boat, you can see the massive amount of people on board. The four decks are filled to the brim with people dancing, talking, and making out, all with various drinks in their hands, and you can see Aoba Johsai written in cursive on the side of the boat.

The two of you step onboard and you hear him before you see him, “Kiyoko, over here!”

Tanaka is calling out for her through the crowd of people, leaning along the railing of the boat, dressed in all black and holding two beers.

She makes her way through the crowd with you close behind. Tanaka wraps her in his arms, kissing her on the cheek.

“Looking good babe,” he growls into her ear as she takes one of the beers from his hand.

The two of them look like they are about to start making out with all of their flirty touches, and you would like to find Daichi as soon as possible so you clear your throat and ask, “Do you know where Daichi is?”

“He's usually in the second-floor pool room; it’s up the stairs, second door on the right,” Tanaka replies while gesturing toward the stairway back by where you just came from.

You nod and take your leave, making your way to the stairs, bumping into people on the crowded deck. After the first few steps, you look back at Kiyoko, wondering if she’s coming with you. Too late, you think as you watch Tanaka pull her hips closer to his, whisper into her ear, and start kissing down her neck.

You shake your head and continue on, happy that she's having fun, but wishing you still had her company by your side. 

At the top of the stairs, you only see one door that opens to an empty hallway. You decide to take your luck with it, even if this isn't the right place, it's a nice space to take a breather from all the people. 

You open the door and what you thought was a quiet hallway turns out to be an echo chamber for the bass echoing off the walls. Where is the music even coming from; you barely heard it outside?

Leaning against the wall, you take a few deep breaths, which are immediately interrupted by the smell of cigar smoke wafting towards you. Part of you wants to leave but the other part of you says stay, stay for him. 

This is so much to process, you can already feel a migraine coming on. The smell of cigar smoke and the thumping bass echoing off the walls of the ship isn't helping your stress levels. Where is Daichi? This would be so much easier if he would just appear by your side magically.

The door you just came through opens and shuts with a squeak, and you hope that your prayers have been answered, but when you turn to look at the person who just joined your space, it is very much not Daichi.

His blonde hair and very noticeable tongue ring are the farthest from Daichi as you can get, and you really wish that you weren't in this hallway alone with him right now.

He makes his way closer to you, getting in your personal space, leaning one arm against the wall next to your head to look you up and down, before licking his lips.

“Hey baby girl, are you lost?”  

You start to look for an exit as he moves closer to you. “No, I'm just looking for someone,” you reply.

His arms cage you in, not giving you any room to move away. “Aw, don't be like that, I can show you a good time too,” he insists. “The name's Yūji Terushima, you'll need to know it when you're screaming it out later.”

You try to move away from him but he won't let you pass, until you hear a door open. 

Daichi comes out of one of the side rooms and the instant he sees you trapped by this man, his eyes turn red with anger.

He rushes over to the two of you, yelling out, “Hey! Get off of her!”

Terushima isn't quick enough to respond, turning to face Daichi, but Daichi is already at his side sending his fist flying towards the blond's nose with a mean right hook. 

Your body sags with relief as Daichi pulls you into his arms and Terushima is on the floor withering in pain, gasping at his probably broken nose.

Daichi is frantically looking over you, checking your arms and face for any sort of harm, “Did he touch you? Are you okay?” he questions you rapidly.

You bury your face in his chest and nod, “Yeah, I'm ok.”

He puts his arms around you before pulling you away towards the door he just came from.  “We're down here,” he says, glaring at Terushima covered in his blood on the floor, leading you away from him.

The room that Daichi was in is stuffed full of people. People line the walls, getting very personal with each other, while others sit on the couches in the center of the room with people pulled onto their laps or under their arms. There are two pool tables on either side of the couches and you spot Kuroo and Bokuto playing what looks like a game of strip pool with four girls, and, from the looks of it, they are losing badly. On the other end of the room is a large bar, with glass bottles lining shelves behind it and a few empty bar stools.

Daichi chooses to ignore his almost naked friends and heads towards the bar, pulling out a stool for you before taking the seat next to you.

The bartender has very fluffy brown hair with matching brown eyes and once he's done serving up drinks to the couple down the bar, he makes his way over to you.

He starts to gather a glass for Daichi without even asking him what he wanted and then looks at you expectantly, “Well cutie, what can I get for you?”

Daichi levels his gaze at the man, and you can feel the deep grumble vibrate from his chest before he turns to you, “This,” he gestures to the bartender, “is Oikawa.”

Oikawa gives you a wink before scurrying out of Daichi’s reach as he playfully tries to grab him, causing Daichi to let out a huff. 

With the weird environment you're in, you think it's best to forgo alcohol, at least for now, so you ask Oikawa for water.

He hands you a glass with lots of ice in it and you watch the way the two of them interact. Their friendship looks to be built on a bed of mutual annoyance, but you can see how they care about each other hidden in the undertones of their speech. 

The night goes on and you spend a lot of it with Oikawa and Daichi at the bar. Oikawa asks you lots of personal questions, some of which you choose to ignore, and some of them you indulge him a little. If Daichi trusts him, it's okay for you too, right?

Just as your ass is starting to hurt from the barstool, a younger man comes up to Daichi, his orange hair bouncing in the wind as he practically vibrates in place. You catch his name, Hinata, and some of what he's trying to explain. There seems to be trouble between him and another guy, and he came to Daichi to be the mediator. 

You can't blame him; in fact, if you were having any sort of trouble, Daichi's the first person that you would seek out. Daichi is so strong and dependable, he makes the rest of the world feel safe and easy. It's not that he makes problems go away but he seems to take in the situation for what it is and find a solution that seems so blatantly obvious you can't believe that no one else thought of it first.

Daichi is that and so much more. His playfulness and competitiveness are something that you saw today when he was driving that car. Not to mention how hot he looked behind the wheel, his arms muscles were on full display and you barely even got the chance to stare at them. You think about going back in time just so that you could watch them flex as he gripped the steering wheel.

You shake your head, trying to pull your brain away from the horny thoughts, but all that manages to do is send you back to the memories of your hot makeout session in the garage earlier. How his hands were all over your body, his lips pressed to yours...

Daichi’s laugh pulls you from your daydream and you realize that he, Hinata and Oikawa are all staring at you. His hand is waving in front of your face, “Earth to Y/N.”

Your shocked expression tells you everything he needs to know so he repeats himself, putting his hand on your knee, “You good here for a minute? I gotta help Hinata with something.” You nod at him and the two walk off together.

Oikawa talks to you in between serving people drinks and you manage to have a decent conversation about your university studies. Turns out, he is studying a major very similar to yours.

Oikawa pulls his phone out and answers it, before putting it down on his shoulder, turning to you, “I have to take this, I’ll have one of my boys take you to Daichi.”

He turns to one of the nearby couches close to the bar before barking out, “Mattsun, take her out to where Daichi is. I have some shit to deal with.”

The man he called out to kisses the blonde sitting on his lap before moving her off of him so that he can help you find Daichi. His tall body leads you out onto the deck of the boat through hordes of drunk people dancing and making out until you spot an orange mess of hair and Daichi standing next to him.

As you get closer you notice a small, but rather important detail that you couldn't see when you were farther away, Daichi is surrounded by tall, skinny, gorgeous-looking supermodels, and all of them seem to have their hands on him.

Daichi seems not to notice the touches, he's too focused on a boy with black hair laying upside down on a lounge chair, his hair softly caressing the wooden deck with every small gust of wind. 

You notice another woman start to touch his hair before Daichi swats her away like she’s a fly before he's kneeling to look at the chair guy again. 

Mattsun leads you closer to Daichi, announcing your arrival before saying his goodbyes and heading back where he came from. You yell out thanks as he is leaving and he waves his hand in the air as he walks away.

Daichi stands from his kneeling position and moves to your side. He has to get closer to your ear to talk as you are now closer to wherever the loud music is coming from but you don't mind, wrapping your arms around his waist possessively, eyeing the other girls.

“Kageyama had too much to drink, he's absolutely wasted,” Daichi says loudly, making sure you can hear him over the bumping bass.

You wished you would have grabbed your water before you left the bar. Just when you're about to suggest someone go get him some water, Oikawa bursts out onto the deck from a side door, exclaiming, “That little shit!” before running off towards the upper decks. You see that he's being followed by Mattsun, the guy who just helped you, and two other men, one with spiky black hair and the other with short pink hair. They all look extremely pissed.

You hear the sound of helicopter blades before you feel a blast of wind, causing the water to start rippling around the boat. You look curiously up at Daichi before he's turning and barking orders to Hinata to get the drunk guy some water and crackers before he's grabbing your hand.

“There's only one man that could be, and we better go make sure Oikawa doesn't kill him.”

By the time you two make it to the upper deck where the helipad is, there already seems to be a standoff in place. A tall man with dark olive hair stands with a large briefcase tucked under the arm of his suit coat. He does not look like he's dressed for a party, but instead like he's about to go into a courtroom.

This new man's face is void of emotion as Oikawa is practically snarling at him, lip upturned like an angry dog.

Daichi runs between the two warring factions, putting up his hands to Oikawa before turning to the tall man.

But before Daichi can say anything Oikawa is yelling over his head, “Who said you could land here, get lost!”

The tall man completely ignores Oikawa, walking up to Daichi, “Ah, Sawamura, just the man I was hoping to see.”

Oikawa's face turns red with anger, if this was an anime you are sure that there would be steam coming out of his head.

Daichi looks at him quizzically, “All this just to see me? Should we go talk in private?”

Ushijima gives him a confirming grunt, nodding his head and Daichi leads him around Oikawa and his men, stopping to whisper something in Oikawa's ear, looking at you, before making his way over to you.

His hand cups your face and you nuzzle into them as he speaks, “I have to go talk to Ushijima. Oikawa said he'll watch out for you so stay here until I get back alright?”

You don't want to leave his side again, but this must be important if a guy is willing to land on what seems to be his mortal enemy's boat only to talk to Daichi. You give him a small pout before you nod, and he kisses you before turning and jogging after the mysterious Ushijima.

Oikawa throws his hands up into the air making his way over to a bar. Damn, he really has these things on every level, doesn't he?

This bar is smaller than the one in the pool room, and only has two stools, but there is a long couch next to it where his men sit down. He motions for you to take a seat at the bar as he starts pouring drinks for the other three, before offering to do the same for you. Taking him up on his offer this time he makes you both matching fruity drinks with cute umbrellas before he joins you, sitting at the barstool next to you.

Oikawa still seems to be on edge from his confrontation with Ushijima, or the lack of one, so the two of you sit in comfortable silence for a bit. You watch some of the party-goers stumble around on the lower decks, and you see women and men come up to talk to the three sitting on the couches. You pick up their names after a bit — Iwaizumi, Makki, and Mattsun, are what everyone calls them — and you eventually watch Mattsun get pulled away by the busty blonde you saw him with earlier.

Oikawa seems to pull himself out of his mental slump when he finishes his drink while you've only been sipping on yours, so you are nowhere near close to finishing it. He makes his way back over to the bar side and washes his cup before he starts making another concoction for himself.

He breaks his silence, “So, you and Daichi are pretty cute together.”

You hum at him in agreement, taking another small sip of your drink.

He continues, “He must be pretty serious about you if he's bringing you all the way out here. He's never brought a girl here before.”

Daichi and you haven't talked about your past relationships, but you aren't really surprised to hear that with what he told you earlier about wanting to be in love.

You don't want to pry, but you do want to know more. This side of Daichi’s life is still a mystery to you. 

“Not even one girl?” you ask him in all sincerity.

Oikawa smirks, glad that he caught your attention with that one. “Well, he did date a girl from our neck of the woods, if that's what you want to call us rich shits. She was hot and smart but they never really seemed to mesh.”

You give him a curious look so he continues, “She was all business, no heart. And you know Daichi, his heart is ten times too big. They just didn't work.”

You nod taking in your new information before you feel someone next to you, the man with the pink hair, Makki. 

He opens his mouth before he leans on the bar to stabilize himself, the alcohol apparently starting to kick in. His words are slurred together. “Are you two talking about Daichi? I heard some models say they would pay $10,000 to lick one of his thigh muscles!”

Oikawa pushes the drunken Makki off the bar and he stumbles back to the couch before slumping over into a woman's cleavage.

“Don't mind him,” Oikawa says, trying to bring back the lighter mood from earlier. “He doesn't know what he's talking about.”

Oh, but you do know what he’s talking about. You've been avoiding the thoughts since you landed, but now there's no holding back the dark thoughts you've been trying to suppress. 

How are you supposed to be good enough for him? For Daichi and his big heart? You've seen it so much tonight, the way he laughs and takes care of his friends, like it’s second nature, coming easier than breathing for him. He's so caring, compassionate, fun and you're just you. 

How are you supposed to compete for his attention when you are up against literal supermodels? 

You swipe at frustrated tears forming in the corner of your eyes before speaking to Oikawa, “Can you tell Daichi I’m gonna go back to the house, I'm tired. But it was nice to meet you.”

You were very much not tired. This was the most wide-awake you have felt in quite some time. Your mind races with all the things that are wrong about the situation you find yourself in. You would laugh at how being on a billionaire’s floating sex boat is what made you feel this insecure if you weren’t feeling so pathetic.

You find your way off the boat with ease, pushing past people grinding on each other to get back to the dock so you can make your way to the safety of your bedroom. 

As you get to the house’s side door you hear a familiar voice calling out your name.

Turning around, you see Daichi running up the path you just took, before he stops next to you, out of breath. 

“Did you sprint all the way up here?” you ask him.

“Yeah…” he pants out in between breaths. “I wanted ... to catch you.”

“I told Oikawa I was going to bed, it’s been a long day and —,” you try to explain but he interrupts you. 

“Are you actually tired?”

You are fidgeting with your hands, not wanting to lie to him, “Well, not exactly...”

“Come somewhere with me.” It flows out of his mouth like a demand but you can see the question in his eyes as they gleam in the darkness. You look at him quizzically before he continues, “Don't worry, no one else is gonna be there.”

Your lips turn in a small smile at his statement, “Just us?”

He takes your hands, placing them both between his own and brings them to his lips, giving your knuckles a light kiss. He keeps them there when he replies, “Yes, just us. I promise.”

You think for a minute, and then give him a hesitant yes. 

His face lights up, “Okay, let's get some supplies.”

He takes your hand, pulling you into the kitchen, grabbing the snacks you like, and a nice chilled glass of water along with two glasses before motioning to a cupboard, telling you to grab the best blankets. 

When you rub the blankets on your skin to test which ones are softer, Daichi smirks at you. 

“Cute,” he says before making his way over to you, “but make sure you grab one of the big sturdy ones too.”

He grabs a basket for all the stuff and wraps you in one of the soft blankets before heading to the elevator that was tucked away in the corner of the kitchen.

“An elevator, really?” you grin at him, your earlier frustration easing away the more time you spend with him and his smile.

“To be fair, it was installed before we bought the house, but my grandma does use it a lot.”

The two of you ride the elevator to the top floor where Daichi starts running a hand along the wall looking for something. When a secret door pops open, he laughs at your shocked expression before motioning you to follow him inside.  

A hidden staircase leads the two of you up to the roof and you take in the sight of the grounds. You can see the race track where you spent your evening, the large yacht floating below filled with people still bumping away to the music, and the stars... You swear that you've never seen the stars shine so bright before. You can see them weaving patterns in the night sky, their stories unknown to you but you enjoy their beauty nonetheless.

When you look over at Daichi, his eyes are soft as they trace your features, and you love the way his gaze makes you feel.

He leads you out to a small section of the roof near the middle of the house where he lays the thick blanket on the ground, setting out the snacks and taking off his shoes before sitting down on the blanket, patting the spot next to him as you take off your shoes and join him.

The two of you sit together, eating snacks, sharing stories for a while, staring up at the night sky together, before he turns to you with a playful glint in his eyes. 

“Let's play a game,” he proposes.

You look him over and nod, waiting for him to explain the game.

“It's easy, just ask me anything, whatever you need answered and I won't hold anything back.” He seems very confident, obviously wanting to make himself an open book after keeping this big secret from you. There are so many things you could ask, you don’t know where to start. 

You raise an eyebrow at him before asking, “What is the worst decision you've ever made?”

He rolls his head to look you in the eyes, before raising his eyebrows at you, “Going right for the hard-hitting questions then?”

“You said you'd answer Daichi, are you gonna take that back?” you say with a little smirk.

He thinks for a moment before replying. “Fine,” He says before rolling his eyes, “I let Bokuto give me a tattoo once when we were both drunk.”

He sees your quizzical eyes as you try to suppress your laughter, “It’s on my ass and it’s a smiley face. Stop laughing!”

You can't stop the laughter that comes from you as you imagine your big strong Daichi with a funky little tattoo on his ass cheek. You are wiping the tears out of your eyes as he takes his opportunity for revenge.

“Okay, my turn!” he exclaims, rubbing his hands together.

You have to stop laughing so hard so that you can retort, “Wait, wait, you never said that I would have to answer too!”

He smiles and shakes his head, laughing. “Yeah, I guess you're right. How about I get to ask you a question for every two questions you ask me? And you don't have to answer if you don't want to.”

You look at him questioningly and you are very curious as to what Daichi would want to know about you so badly he’s willing to put himself on the line first. “Sounds fun,” you smile. 

“Good, what's your second question?”

“What were you talking about with that guy, Ushijima?”

He looks uncomfortable as he tries to think about how to answer you. “Well, he mostly just saw Oikawa's boat and wanted to annoy him,” he chuckles before continuing. “But he also wanted to talk about a deal that our fathers are trying to make to secure our family ties. It's something that we both are very against.”

His answer leaves you with more questions, “What do you mean, ‘family ties’?”

He smoothly switches from his uncomfortable state and offers you a coy smile, “Do you want that to be your next question, sweetheart?”

Rolling your eyes at him you respond, “Ugh, no.”

“Okay, good because I really don't want to think about it. My turn then.” He thinks for a second before asking, “Do you think this,” he gestures into the air, “is too much for you? You know, the cars, boats, houses, money?”

You pause to gather your thoughts, staring up at the night sky again.

“I think that it's a lot to take in all at once,” you say slowly, calculating each word before it comes out of your mouth. “Especially the sex party boat,” you chuckle, “But I could get used to it.” You let the ‘for you’ hang in the air unspoken. 

He grabs your hand, looking up to the stars, “I’m glad. Okay, what's your next question?”

You don't want to ruin the mood and ask about the ‘family ties’ between his and Ushijima’s families, so instead, you choose a safer route. 

“What was it like growing up?”

He seems taken aback at first before a simple smile adorns his face, “My parents didn't love each other, not really. They had me, and then my brothers and sisters, but when times got hard they didn't support each other. They divorced pretty early in my life, I was still a kid when it happened.”

He pauses when you squeeze his hand in reassurance, but he's still smiling as he continues, “They split the companies between them, got us a nanny, and we bounced back and forth between houses every few months. I eventually just ended up as the caretaker for my siblings, making sure they didn't turn into spoiled brats.”

His laugh at the last part is so genuine it makes your heart flutter, but even so, his life has been far from perfect. “Wow, Daichi, I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“It wasn't that bad, I got to have a lot of fun.” He shakes off your concerned look before he gets to ask his question, “My turn again. What was it like for you growing up?”

You explain to him about your family dynamic, watching how his eyes seem to light up when you make jokes and then fall when you mention your hardships. He squeezes your hand like he never wants to let go when you finish telling him your stories, a playful smile returning to his lips before he tells you to ask your next set of questions. 

You think of what to ask next, and your face grows hot as your brain churns up a question that you have never talked about with Daichi before. 

Your tongue stumbles as the words flow from your mouth, “Have you had sex before?”

He tries to suppress his smile, “Yeah a few times, not with anyone really special though.”

Your lips part in surprise and you find yourself asking in a breathless tone, “What’s your number?”

Daichi leans closer to you, erasing the distance between your bodies as his hands move up the skin on your exposed thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake, “Is that your next question?”

You're breathless, the heat from his fingers distracting you from the fire brewing inside you,  “Yeah, it is.”

Daichi’s lips are so close to your own you can feel his breath on your soft skin, his voice dipping an octave when he asks, “Why, do you want to be one of them?”

You clear your mind enough to retort back at him. “Is that your next question?” you say, brushing your nose against his teasingly.

“Yes,” he answers before his breath hitches in his throat as you move your hands to his thighs.

“You first,” you giggle as his cheeks turn a bright shade of pink.

He answers as quickly as possible, his words almost too fast to hear but his tone is so low it sends shockwaves straight to your core. “It’s four, Laney in high school, this girl Kay at a party, Hime my ex and then Jackie in college a year ago. Your turn.”

Your mind clouds with his scent as you bring your hands up to his chest. Why is he so hot when talking about other people he's fucked, and why aren't you more jealous? 

“I- uh, yeah. I would love to be your number five,” you stammer out. 

He smirks at you, both of you are very obviously in need of each other's touch, more than you were getting and you can't deny how good it feels to have his undivided attention like this. Something about Daichi makes you forget your sense of self, and his touch instantly sends your heart racing.

“Do you have any more questions, sweetheart?”

You nod, biting your lip, “Are you going to kiss me, Dai?”

He nods before his eyes search yours. The stars tonight are reflected in his dark irises and you swear that you could get lost in him if you looked long enough. 

Daichi moves closer to you at an agonizingly slow pace, and you savor the electricity that is simmering in the distance. It's enough to have your heart skip a beat before he closes the gap.

His lips meet yours and it's slow at first. His touch and kiss are reminiscent of the way that stars seemingly burn for eons until they can't take any more heat and explode in a fury of passion.

You grab the collar of his shirt, bringing him impossibly closer to you, wanting to erase any remaining space between the two of you. You seemingly throw him off his balance as he almost falls on top of you. You can feel him smile into the kiss before he starts to reposition your body with his big, strong hands. 

Daichi sits back, before pulling your body into his lap, wrapping your legs around his waist before continuing the kiss. His tongue swipes at your bottom lip and you moan at the contact, allowing him access, while you snake your hands into his hair, giving his roots a slight tug to get him to kiss you harder.

More. You need more.

His hands move up your body from your hips with a slow drag of his fingertips up to your neck, cradling your head in his hands, angling your head to kiss you deeper. 

Your body burns at the contact with him, your soul reaching out for his through your kiss. Hearts melting and colliding into one supernova as your lips push and pull against each other. This heat that ignites within you that only he can seem to control, grows and grows until you feel like you're going to go insane if you don't touch him more soon. 

Grinding your hips down on him, you can feel how much he is enjoying this, and you can't help but smile when he lets out a small whine into your mouth. Kissing him harder you start to move your hips against his as he ruts up into you at the same time. The delicious friction you've been craving but it's not enough, you need more.

His mind must have melded with yours because he stops kissing you, pulling away with your bottom lip caught between his teeth until you let out a small gasp. 

“Pretty girl, tell me you want this,” he asks breathlessly.

You feel your cunt clench at his praise, needing more from him, needing everything. 

“Dai, I want all of you.”

His breath hitches in his throat, and his eyes take in the sight of you on top of him with the endless backdrop of stars above you. 

The look he's giving you melts any remaining pieces of your heart into a giant puddle, his eyes are soft and a small smile is on his lips as he whispers, “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

You rest your forehead on his, looking him in the eyes and reply, “me too.”

He smiles at you bigger and you can't imagine feeling any happier than you are right now, his eyes crinkle in happiness before he buries his face into your chest, wrapping around you and hugging you with a huge amount of strength. 

You let him hold you like that for a few seconds before the need growing in your stomach becomes unbearable.

You move your hands to cradle his head, pulling him from your chest so that you can look at him. His eyes are half-lidded looking up at you in awe, like he can’t believe that you're here with him on his lap.

“Daichi,” you practically purr, “please, fuck me.”

His eyes flutter at your words, and he bites his lip. He looks like he's fighting some sort of internal battle.

Before you can register his movement, the world is tilting on its axis, and your back is now on the soft blanket. His strong arms caging you under him and your legs are around his waist as he leans over you.

You can see why he was staring up at you earlier, he looks heavenly with the night sky as his backdrop. The soft glow from the house illuminating his features and he looks beautiful and so fucking sexy. 

His eyes land on your lips and you watch as one corner of his mouth tilts up in satisfaction at your reaction to him. 

“Aw, my girl thinks I'm sexy,” he says, nuzzling his nose against yours as he taunts you.

You can't believe you said that out loud, but it's true so you nod, worried what else will come out of your mouth if you choose to open it. 

He leans down so that he is right next to your ear and he growls, “I think she’s fucking sexy too.” 

He gives your earlobe a small nip before he starts kissing your neck. You turn your head, giving him more room, and he takes full advantage of it, tracing his tongue along your pulse before moving his lips against your skin. His lips search your neck until he finds that spot that makes you gasp, and then he focuses all his attention there, biting it lightly before his tongue swipes away the sting. 

You moan for him, moving your hand to his hair, gathering some between your fingers before he sucks hard. Your hips jut up, grinding on him in pleasure, and both of you moan into each other as your clothed cunt brushes against his hard cock.

“I’ve been so fucking hard for you since our kiss earlier.” His mouth kisses down to your shoulder which is still covered by your sweater. “Do you want my mouth or my fingers?”

His hands make their way under your sweater and over the skin of your stomach, before teasing your nipples through your bra and you let out a gasp when he gives one of them a squeeze, a warning for you not answering him.

“I asked you a question, answer me,” he says in a stern voice that sends shivers down your spine and makes your eyes flutter.

Your mind tries to calculate a response, as the assault on your nipples increases, sending shocks of pleasure right to your core.

Unable to focus on anything but how his fingers feel on your skin as he trails a hand down your body, “your fingers, please” you moan out for him.

He leans back and pushes your skirt up around your hips before he starts to tease his fingers along the cloth covering your core. 

His gaze on you makes you want to cover yourself up, but when you move to close your legs, his hand grabs your knee and pushes you back open for him.

He uses both of his hands to pull your underwear down, staring at the string of slick that connects them and your soaked folds. He tosses them somewhere over his shoulder, before taking in the sight before him. The cold night air meets your warm cunt and sends shivers up your spine, but the cold is quickly replaced with the heat of Daichi’s warm hands on your thighs.

“God, you're beautiful,” he groans, as he watches your cunt flutter around nothing at the depth of his voice. Fingers moving back to your slit, teasing your folds before he moves his fingers up to circle your clit.

You let out a gasp when he finally touches you where you've been needing him. Your hips jut up in search of more contact. 

He teases his fingers through your folds before sliding one into you. You can feel how wet you are and it makes your face heat up but he feels so good inside you, you don't care.

He thrusts his finger into you a few times before adding a second, watching your face morph into pleasured bliss before focusing his attention on the way your walls are trying to suck him inside.

Your hands move to your chest, kneading the flesh there as he increases his pace, finger-fucking you until he finds the spot that makes you scream.

The pleasure in your body continues to build as he focuses all his attention on that one spot. Your nerves are all on fire and you can feel the building pressure, just waiting to be released. Daichi is making you feel so alive, his fingers working magic on your body, weaving their way into your soul and imprinting his mark there where it can never leave.

All of the muscles in your body tense and you hear Daichi say, “cum for me,” before the coil inside you snaps and your body convulses in pleasure, singing out his name in praise as he sends you to the stars. His voice and fingers still work you over, sending more pleasure into your system before you feel yourself gush around his fingers, your body almost folding in on itself as you grab at his wrist to hold him still inside of you. 

Your breath comes out in short bursts as you relax onto the blanket with him still kneeling between your legs. When you look up at him, he has the cockiest smile on his face, obviously proud of himself.

You weakly smile and nod at him, hoping that he understands that he just sent you into orbit before you stretch out your hands for him. 

He reaches out, and you pull him down on top of you. You kiss him roughly and he eagerly ruts his hips into you, moaning into your mouth when he can feel your wetness seeping through his pants.

You reach down between your bodies, unbuckling his belt and undoing the button on his pants. You try to get to his cock, but with the angle you're at and his boxers getting in the way, you can't seem to reach, and you let out a small whine. 

Daichi seems to understand, and he pushes his pants and boxers down past his thighs, giving you the perfect view of his cock. 

It makes your mouth water and you want to taste him so bad. Your hands move to stroke him, gathering the precum that leaks onto your fingers before you pop them into your mouth, lapping up the flavor eagerly.

You moan at the taste, sucking on your fingers, wishing they were his cock. You vow to yourself to take him down your throat and have him at your mercy before the end of this trip.

Daichi’s hand pumps his shaft a few times before he runs the tip through your folds, gathering your slick, before circling your clit with the head of his cock. 

You moan at how thick and heavy he feels against your soft folds. “Please Dai. I need you so bad, please, fuck me.”

He lets out a groan. “When you ask so nicely, how can I say no?”

He lets go of his cock, and moves his hands up to hold yours, interlocking your fingers together before his lips connect to yours in a hungry kiss. He holds eye contact with you as he slowly moves his hips into position as the head of his cock slowly presses into you.

You watch him bite his lip as he fights the urge to buck into you, his half-lidded eyes concentrating on your face, watching your mouth form into a beautiful ‘o’ and your eyes flutter as he pushes more of himself inside you. 

When his hips are flush against yours, he stills, wanting to give you time to get used to his girth. He can't help but savor the way your walls are squeezing him and sucking him into you. You give him a slow nod before he starts moving again, slowly pulling out of you and before pushing back in with more power.

You can't help but dig your nails into the back of his hands, forming crescent-shaped indents. The way his cock hits all of the spots inside of you perfectly has you questioning if this is a dream, but the way he sounds and looks as he moves above you is something so hot that your brain could never imagine it this perfectly.

His lips scatter kisses along your jaw until he's at your neck again, savoring the feel of your still tender flesh against his tongue. He’s taking his time focusing on leaving his mark at the top of your collarbone, sucking and nipping at your skin.

His head falls to your shoulder and his breath turns uneven as he pants out, “if you keep squeezing me like that I'm not gonna last,” in between thrusts.

You aren't going to last either, the coil in your stomach is already dangerously close to snapping again.

“Da-Daddy,” you moan, completely lost in your pleasure.

He pauses above you with his cock still fully sheathed in your dripping cunt, his head snapping up off your shoulder to look into your eyes, his brow furrowing. “What did you just call me?”

It takes a second for your mind to process what you just said. His hips being completely still as his cock continues to stretch you is not helping your brain processes. 

And then it hits you, why did you just say that, oh no. “I’m sorry it slipped out — I’m so —” you panic, stopping when you realize he is shaking his head with a gleam in his eyes you haven’t seen before.

Daichi angles his hips before thrusting into you at an even harder and rougher pace. “Say it again,” he commands, each word accentuated by a heavy thrust.

You bite your lip as the pleasure takes over you once again as he pounds into you. The sheer strength he has is evident in the power behind each thrust.

You can't help yourself when you start babbling out a mixture of his name and new nickname, the two words becoming interchangeable on your tongue and streaming together. 

Daichi releases your hands so that he can get a better grip on your hips, pounding into you without abandon. His eyes go dark as he loses himself in the feeling of your cunt, so soft and pliant and warm all around him. All his.

He can feel you tensing around him, squeezing his soul out of his body as his cock begs for release.

He speaks through his teeth as his whole body is clenching, hold out his orgasm for you, "Fucking cum on my cock baby girl. I need to feel it."

He lets out a primal growl as you feel the pressure inside you release as your pussy milks his cock. Your orgasm crashing through you, forcing you to grip onto his strong shoulders, leaving dark circles that will eventually turn into bruises into his perfect skin. 

You cry out for him, chanting his name as your vision clouds over, and you swear you can see the universe unfolding and refolding in on itself as your body is propelled through time and space.

Your mind is hazy as your muscles twitch. Daichi is still pounding into you, babbling about how much of a good girl you are and how much he's going to fill you up, claim you as his. 

Your body is still shaking with pleasure when you feel Daichi’s thrusts start to waver, your pulsating walls still pulling him even deeper until he lets out a moan of your name above you. His eyes lock with yours as he spills his cum inside you, filling you up completely until it seeps out around his cock.

You both are panting as Daichi leans down to kiss you, his soft lips a stark contrast to the pounding your cunt just received. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his weight on top of you and keeping him sheathed inside you. 

The stars shine down on you in their infinite beauty and you wish you could stay in this moment forever with him, breathing in his scent, the two of your souls merged into one, with your breathing in sync. All you need is him, you think, only him and you could be happy forever.

Daichi wakes up to the sound of his phone buzzing on the nightstand. He looks down at your sleeping form on his chest and debates on whether or not he should move you to turn the assault of buzzing off. 

When his phone quiets down, he lets out a small sigh of relief.

After last night on the roof, the two of you managed to sneak to his room without anyone seeing you. Kuroo and Bokuto almost caught the two of you, but with women on each of their arms, they were a little too preoccupied trying to navigate through the mansion to pay attention to you and Daichi hiding in the shadows, giggling at their antics. 

After the two of you got cleaned up, you both got comfortable under the covers, talking the night away, exchanging small kisses and playful jabs before you fell asleep on his chest.

He looks back down at you, and you look so cute sleeping in one of his shirts, the little bit of drool pooling on his chest is adorable and he wishes his phone was closer so he could take a photo.

The incessant buzzing starts again and he lets out a small curse. 

Whoever is calling him must really need him. He takes a deep breath, inhaling your shampoo before he very slowly moves your sleeping body off him.

He grabs his phone off the nightstand before heading to the bathroom, not wanting to disturb your sleep with whatever this phone call is.

Finally looking down at the caller ID, he wishes he would have just thrown his phone out the window but nevertheless, he answers after letting out a big sigh. 

“Dad, what do you need?”

His father talks to him through the phone before Daichi has heard enough. He says one phrase to his dad before hanging up the phone and turning his phone off and slamming it on the counter.

“Drop it, I am not meeting with Hime.”

the blonde sitting on issei’s lap? that was me uwu

who wants a part 2? i couldnt finish the other half in time for the deadline🙏 please forgive me 

send me an ask to be added to my tag list

@matchamintmochi @unlimitedpastapass @eijirosriot @strawbub @thathoneybee3​

[everyonewasabird]

Brickclub 4.6.2 “In Which Little Gavroche Takes Advantage of Napoleon The Great” Part 1

This chapter is full of the mythological motifs we learned from the beginning of the book.

The chapter title contrasts Gavroche’s littleness with Napoleon’s greatness--and we know by now that being a great man isn’t a good thing. It also recalls the first line of dialogue in this novel, Bienvenu’s exchange with Napoleon, where he says “You behold a good man and I a great man. Each of us may profit by it.” Of course, Napoleon is losing both these comparisons.

And then:

Petit-Gavroche, shivering gaily as always in his rags, was standing in apparent rapture in front of a wigmaker’s shop over l’Orme-Saint-Gervais way.

I’m not sure the wigs can actually be said to invoke Valjean, given that whatever his secret collection of wigs may be, we’ve never actually seen him wear one. But that “Gervais” sticks out, connecting Petit-Gavroche to Petit-Gervais, who here is being connected to sainthood.

There’s no particular Valjean figure robbing these children, there’s just absolutely every adult in Paris being vaguely annoyed at their existence and failing to give a shit.

Also I just looked up Saint Gervase (wikipedia: Gervasius and Protasius) and

They are the patron saints of Milan and of haymakers and are invoked for the discovery of thieves.

Well. THAT sure wasn’t an accident, but it sounds oddly at odds with this book’s ideas about theft. My best guess is that it's about Petit-Gervais’s role in Valjean’s realization of his own thieving.

Right now Gavroche is doing the thieving--or trying to, as he eyes a cake of barber’s soap he plans to steal and sell.

These recurrent scenes with Gavroche are starting to feel like fables, like an episode in the life of a familiar mythical figure, the way we saw a lot of with the bishop and occasionally with Madeleine. Gavroche feels like the bishop here, like this is just another a tale of our beloved little benevolent trickster god.

I think that feeling I’m getting has to do with the fact that this scene and Gavroche’s last scene  (the one where he was going to steal Mabeuf’s apples but instead gives him Jean Valjean’s wallet) have the same premise and plot: it’s been a few days since Gavroche has eaten, and he has a clever plan to rectify that, but someone even worse off is about to need him to give up his dinner for them. He feels like Coyote or Brer Rabbit--you don’t need to know what happened to him last week or last month specifically, because his narrative is not novelistic in that way. Hugo says “It’s Tuesday, and Gavroche hasn’t eaten since Friday, but he has a plan,” and we know we’ve heard a hundred stories like this before, and we settle in for a variation on a familiar theme.

And: I think it’s very, very important that the other character who gets that treatment most consistently is the bishop.

Of the two, Gavroche is the purer form of the trickster--and the more charitable. He’s loud and brash and larger than life, and his manners ape the bourgeoisie--but not for the reasons Valjean does. It’s purely to poke fun at the world he steals from to get by. He’s got a quick insult for everyone--except for the poor who need his help. He feels less like a twelve-year-old than a force of nature. It’s like meeting Tom Bombadil.

He meets the mômes and takes them in and begins to show them the ropes of surviving as gamins. And their plot is not divorced from time--Magnon was arrested today, and when they meet Gavroche, they’ve been wandering for two hours. I’m inclined to see a parallel in Valjean meeting the bishop in that: for the bishop, it was just another incident not specifically connected to other incidents in his life, but Valjean had just come from the bagne and had been traveling for days.

I suppose this has to do with dynamic vs. static characters: some characters need to change, and the story is about tracking their change, whereas other characters are larger than life already, and they can be counted on to be so no matter when or where you find them.

Just like Lesgle, Courfeyrac, and the Bishop, Gavroche asks no questions.

And he’s almost literally magic: he hasn’t eaten in several days, but when lost children are hungry, he can still dig a sou out of his pocket.

And then, in an apostrophe against Magnon but also Fantine, Valjean, the Thenardiers, Jeanne Valjean, Georges Pontmercy, Gillenormand, maybe everyone in this book who has a child, he says

“It's all the same, if I had any mômes, I would hug them tighter than this.”

Though, of course, he doesn’t manage to.

....And then we reach the elephant and there is SO MUCH SYMBOLISM to tackle that I’m going to leave the second half of the chapter for tomorrow.