#which anyone with half a brain cell could already tell that about them

[killyourlocalmisogynist]

hey guys so i took some time off of tumblr after i suddenly out of the blue magically became sexually attracted to 6 different men. see ive always thought men were hot but not in like a sexual way just like a 🥰 i have eyes way and those eyes can see a sexy hot man when they spot one🥰 so this was was obviously a total shock. so yeah from now on this is going to be a bisexual positivity page. hope everyone can accept that. maybe i return to lesbianism in the future but for right now my boyfriend makes me the happiest 🫶🤭🙈😘

[mythicalmisery]

Bull Rider AU: GhostxSoap

AO3

Bull rider Ghost and clueless Soap who doesn’t know the hat rule. 

Soap had a stupid smile on his face as he picked up a discarded, black cowboy hat and put it on his head while turning to Gaz. They had been heading back to their seats after a quick snack break when Soap had spotted it, unable to help himself. 

 “Ye think I can pull it off?” he asked grinning, completely unaware of the hulking figure that had appeared at his back only moments later. 

Soap froze at the deep, yet still whispered, “Don’t think that belongs to ya, mate,” spoken right beside his ear. He could feel the other’s hot breath on his skin.

His eyes went wide, pleading, as he looked at Gaz for a lifeline. His friend had the same expression reflecting back at him, unsure what to do either. Without any help from Gaz  Soap turned around.

His eyes met a broad chest clasped in a black leather vest, decorated with various patches of brands and sponsors he had never heard of. He slowly lifted his gaze to the man’s face, or at least what was showing of it. The lower half was covered in a black bandana with a skull design painted onto it.

It was real dusty and the man was clearly one of the riders competing, so Soap didn’t think twice about it. Hell, he wished he had one right now to hide his own embarrassment that was surely written all over his face.

The only thing he could make out underneath the stadium lights were amber eyes and blond lashes that matched his mop of sweat-clumped hair that stuck to his forehead. Those eyes that pinned Soap to where he stood and felt like burning flames licking at his skin.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, his voice coming out dry and crackly despite his efforts. “Sorry mate, didn’t mean to offend anyone,” he tossed out in an attempt of easement.

He grabbed the hat off his head, stretching out his hand and offering it back to its rightful owner. The man didn’t remove his gaze from Soap once as he took his hat back. 

Soap was all too aware he had been holding his breath during the whole interaction. He was hoping the man wasn’t offended by Soap touching his property. A fight was the last thing he needed right now, especially three beers into his night. His internal panicking was interrupted by the stranger’s gruff voice.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell ya not to go ‘round touching things that don’t belong to ya?” Soap took a reflexive step back when the man took a step forward. 

He could still see Gaz out of the corner of his eye, which helped a little knowing he wasn’t alone if things went to shite. Although, he would feel really bad if he made Gaz get into an altercation and ruin their night out due to him being an idiot. 

Soap laughed nervously. “Always seemed to have a problem with authority and rules.”

That had the other raising a brow. “That right?”

There were alarm bells ringing in Soap’s head. The adrenaline pumping through his veins should have been warning enough but he never claimed to be smart. The man glanced over Soap top to bottom, as if he was assessing him. The undivided attention had goosebumps breaking out over Soap’s skin. 

He leaned in closer, invading the already non existent space between them. 

“Do ya know what the hat rule is, mate?” he asked with a smirk, like he already knew Soap didn’t.

“Uh, n-no.” Soap felt like a bumbling idiot. 

The man simply nodded at the answer he was already expecting. He lowered himself until he was looking over Soap’s left shoulder, speaking directly into his ear.

“Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.” 

Soap could feel the heat flood his face like a dam opening. 

Oh fuck.

It was as if Soap’s mind, mouth, and pretty much whole body went offline. He couldn’t seem to get anything to work after the other man’s words had registered. Well, except maybe one body part, that seemed to be working just fine.

After standing frozen like an idiot once again for too long, he somehow managed to stoke the last dying embers of a functioning brain cell and took control over his body once again.

With a nervous laugh he took a staggered step back, his arms outstretched in a placating way. The man wasn’t angry, but fucking hell was he intimidating and Soap needed some space to breath especially after that comment. 

“Oh, well that’s.. uh.. ye know, we really should be getting back to our seats,” he spewed out while grabbing Gaz by the shoulder. Soap didn’t wait for the man to say anything else, leaving him to stand and watch as he scurried away like a coward. 

He made a beeline for their section in the stands, subtly adjusting his now uncomfortably tight pants. He glared at Gaz when he made a comment at his flustered appearance, doing his best to block out his incessant teasing. He felt like he was fifteen years old again, popping boners when the wind blew just a little too strongly.

The announcer came back on over the intercom speakers, introducing the next round of riders as they finally reached their seats. Soap did his best to try and focus on the riders in the dirt down below, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of that man’s breath on his neck, the way his voice was that deep even at a whisper, the way his eyes made his skin feel like it was lit aflame.

And as if God was playing a cruel trick on him, his gaze was drawn to the rider getting ready to mount the bull in queue. It was him. 

He couldn’t make out too many details from this far up, but he was able to spot that familiar mask on the jumbo screen hanging in the center of the arena. The man had his hat on this time. The same hat that Soap had just been wearing. He couldn’t deny it, the man looked good in it. 

The announcer chimed in, getting the crowd going. Gaz leaned over, hitting Soap’s shoulder as he whispered, “There’s your man.”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the slight upturn of the corner of his mouth at his friend’s words. Soap glanced back up to the screen, eyes scanning until he found what he was looking for in big, bold letters. 

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY

Simon. Fuck. Even his name was hot. 

He looked back down to the roping box, the bull that - Simon? Ghost? - was about to ride. It was fucking massive. He could see it already bucking and ramming the sides of the fence from up in the stands and on the screen, clearly pissed off. 

The anticipation in the arena was electric, the crowd buzzing with excitement as Ghost settled himself on the bull. While the men around him steadied him with their hands,  Soap’s heart pounded in his chest. He didn’t even know the man but his stomach was twisting into knots. 

He watched as Ghost adjusted his grip on the bull rope and flexed his hand, his muscles tensing under the strain displayed on the big screen.

Soap’s breath stuttered as the gate flew open, the bull exploding out into the arena twisting and bucking with raw power. Ghost moved with fluid precision; the man’s arm raised into the air, his waist snapping back and forth in perfect sync with the bull’s wild movements. Soap couldn’t tear his eyes away, completely captivated by the sight.

The crowd roared around him, cheering and shouting their encouragement as Ghost held on. Soap found himself leaning forward in his seat, his breath caught in his lungs. He silently willed Simon to stay on just a few seconds longer.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the ride. Ghost leaped off the bull, landing as gracefully as one could while running from a crazed animal with horns. Soap’s heart was still pounding as he watched Ghost run back toward the gate, somehow still maintaining his casual demeanor as he climbed over. 

He watched as the rider disappeared behind the gate and out of sight. Gaz elbowed him playfully, a knowing grin on his face. “Go congratulate your cowboy, he just one first place,” he said, his voice barely audible over the noise of the crowd.

Soap whipped his head to the scoreboard, eyes scanning before he saw Ghost’s name jump to the top as his points were entered. He couldn’t help the stupid smile spreading across his face. 

“Ye sure you’ll be alright?” he asked, already standing up. Gaz scoffed, “Get the fuck outta here Soap.”

Soap put his hands together in a mock prayer. “Thank you, Garrick.”

He turned around and nearly sprinted down the stairs, cursing the crowds blocking his way. He had to make it down there before the rider left.

Soap finally managed to make it down to the ground floor, booking it to the area cornered off for the riders and their crew. He got farther than he thought he would before security stopped him, asking for his pass that he clearly didn’t have. 

He tried a handful of excuses but there wasn’t any reasoning with the man. He was about to ask if he could at least pass on a message for him before he felt someone brush up against his back. 

“He’s with me.” 

Soap swallowed. That low, gravelly voice back in his ear. Right where he wanted it.

The security guard stood there a moment before he nodded at Ghost and walked away, as if Soap wasn’t even there. 

It took a herculean effort for Soap to turn around. He was very close to losing his nerve and chickening out of this whole ordeal. Hell, he didn’t know this man. What was he doing? 

“Now, what are ya doing all the way over here. Breaking more of those rules, I see,” he said forcing Soap to take a step backwards. 

Soap cleared his throat, voice coming out surprisingly steady. “Well, I figured I would congratulate the winner.”

“That so?” he asked with a tilt to his head.

Soap took a step forward in a random burst of boldness. Now or never. 

“Aye, I also think I owe ye a debt,” he punctuated by grabbing the hat off the man’s head and placing it upon his own.

Soap wasn’t sure if it was the passing headlights from the sea of cars and trailers behind them, but he swore Ghost’s eyes flashed at his words. He leaned down in a mirror image of their earlier interaction, a strained “Follow me,” was spoken in his ear.

Soap let out a deep breath as he watched the man walk away. Not ashamed to admit he enjoyed watching him as he did so. Fuck. This was happening. 

They walked through a dirt and gravel lot off to the side of the arena. Soap observed the ranchers loading the livestock back into trailers under the parking lot lights as they passed through.

They ended up on the outer edge of the lot, the closest light post was a few cars down so it wasn’t overly bright where they were. Soap nearly missed it when Ghost turned a corner around a large parked trailer. 

He followed suit, unable to stop the embarrassing yelp that left his mouth as he was thrown against the side of said trailer. All thoughts of cursing the man out disappeared when Ghost’s lips were crashing against his. The initial impact had him grunting, the sounds immediately swallowed by Ghost’s domineering mouth. 

Soap couldn’t breathe, and normally he wouldn’t have any complaints about the matter given the situation, but he was starting to get lightheaded. He reached his hands up, gripping onto that leather vest and regretfully pushed the man off of him. He gasped at the separation, greedily filling his lungs at the first opportunity.

“Air, air is good,” he wheezed out.

The bastard huffed a laughed right in Soap’s face. Between the night sky and Soap’s racing mind, he hadn’t quite registered that Ghost had taken off the bandana from earlier. He blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, just barely making out the details of the face currently six inches from his own. 

He was fucking beautiful. 

Soap didn’t need sunlight to come to that conclusion. He had strong features; a Roman nose that had clearly been broken one too many times and never healed quite right, full lips that had a small scar running across the bottom as if it had been split in a fist fight and never got the proper stitches. He had another scar going from his chin to his neck, the moonlight illuminating the silvery healed skin that was no doubt part of an impressive collection. 

Soap couldn’t help the heat rushing to his face when he realized how blatantly he’d been checking out the other man. To his credit, Ghost just stood there; not saying a word while letting him have his fill. 

His attention drifted back to reality when a wave of lights and shadows danced across their faces as a car drove by. Soap unconsciously grabbed onto Ghost’s vest, pulling him onto himself while trying to melt into the trailer out of fear of getting caught. 

“Relax,” Ghost whispered. 

His mouth moved down to Soap’s jaw, kissing his way across his flushed skin until he reached his ear. Soap couldn’t help the full body shutter that racked through him as the man licked up the shell of his ear before biting down on the tender cartilage.

He turned his face slightly to the right in a poor attempt at stifling his moan in Ghost’s shoulder as the other slotted his knee right between his legs. 

Fuck. He hadn’t realized just how hard he was before Ghost started grinding against him.

The friction was almost unbearable, just the right amount of pain to still be pleasurable but still not enough. “More,” he groaned out. All reservations about sounding too desperate were out the door, he needed this man. Now.

Ghost turned his head to stare directly at Soap with a smirk plastered on that stupidly handsome face. 

“Needy little thing, aren’t ya?” he teased. 

He didn’t even give Soap time to defend himself before he was reaching down to undo his belt buckle and slide his hand down Soap’s boxers. 

“Fuuuck,” Soap hissed out as Ghost gripped his cock with those rough and calloused hands. Every twist of the man’s wrist had a jolt of pleasure shooting up Soap’s spine. His hand had felt like a branding iron, scorching to the touch and Soap had no complaints over the claim.

He was full on panting now. The only air he could manage to get was what Ghost allowed him when his lips granted reprieve. 

Soap was gradually nearing his breaking point. He normally would have been embarrassed for not lasting longer, but he decided to give himself a break when he’d been sporting a semi nearly the entire second half of the event. No thanks to the bastard who currently had his tongue shoved down his throat. 

Soap hadn’t even realized the involuntary bucking of his hips, his body’s feeble attempt to get off. The shallow thrusts got quicker, insinuating his building release. Just as Soap was about to reach that blissful moment he had been craving all night, Ghost snatched his hand away and removed them from Soap’s pants entirely.

“Oh, you fuckin’ bastard,” Soap spat out at the other man. 

Ghost stood straight before clicking his tongue. “We have a debt that needs paid now don’t we, darling?” he cooed at Soap who did his best to not let the pet name affect him too much.

Soap groaned in frustration. “Then hurry the fuck up cause I’m not gonna last much longer, ya fucker,” he growled out.

Ghost shook his head at him. “Ya sure do have a mouth on ya,” he stated.

“Aye, ye can do something about it next time.” Soap didn’t really care that he just left an opening for this to occur again, mind too preoccupied on the fact his balls felt like they were about to explode. 

Ghost had that smug look back on face as he reached into his pocket for something. He pulled out a set of black keys and pressed a button, the black truck behind him flashing its lights twice before he put them back. 

“Are ye kidding me? Your car was here the whole time?,” Soap whined. 

“Sounds an awful lot like complaining, mate. Not a fan of being watched, are ya?” Ghost taunted. The way he talked to Soap like he was a child was some fucked up mix of extremely hot and infuriating. 

Soap glared at the man. “Get the fuck in the back seat. Now.” 

Despite Ghost narrowing his eyes, Soap didn’t leave any room for argument and the other man complied with no further complaints. 

Ghost climbed into the back of the truck, spreading out across the seats with his hands resting behind his head as he looked at Soap. Well, didn’t he just look like the cat who got the cream. 

God, he was fucking hot.

Soap climbed in after him without another word. With the door closed, the lights in the truck went out and the space was filled with darkness once again. Soap was straddling the man’s massive thighs, nearly hanging off the edge. It was cramped, barely any room to move but he would make it work. Had to make it work. 

“Just gonna sit there and look pretty, darling?,” Ghost snarked, breaking the silence. 

“Oh, fuck off,” Soap replied with no real heat. He reached out to undo Ghost’s belt, hoping the way his throat bobbed at the clear outline in the man’s pants wasn’t visible in the moonlight. Good lord he was massive. That earlier apprehension started to slowly creep back in and wash away his false confidence. 

Ghost made another one of those clicking sounds with his tongue that had Soap freezing his movements. When he looked up into the man’s eyes, he couldn’t help the way his stomach flipped. Ghost had a way of looking at him that sent every warning bell and nerve in his body off like a crack of lightning. Like a predator finally catching his prey after having it in its sights for too long.

“Get undressed,” Ghost demanded.

Normally, Soap would put up a fight just to be an ass, but he didn’t have much fight left in him at this point. He was so on edge, so close to finally getting off he was honestly scared what he would do just to make it happen. With nothing more than a roll of his eyes in complaint, he started undoing the buttons of his shirt. It was only a matter of minutes before Soap was spread across the man’s lap in the back seat, completely naked. 

He felt like his brain was melting. There shouldn’t have been something so hot about the fact he was completely naked and bare while Ghost hadn’t even removed so much as his hat during all this. He could feel the rough denim on the sensitive skin of his thighs, the cold buckle from the man’s belt when he leaned forward just an inch. Soap wasn’t even ashamed when he realized he had been slowly grinding himself against the man, anything to ease his burning desire.  

Ghost finally spoke up, but Soap didn’t even stop his movements. “What’s your name?” he asked with that low and rough voice. Soap’s own ego was slightly stroked, he could hear the strain in the man’s voice despite the calm demeanor he was trying to convey. 

“John, but most people call me Soap,” he breathed out. He was two seconds away from ripping the clothes off this man himself.

“Soap? What kind of nickname is that?”

“Says the man called Ghost?” he quipped back.

“Alright, I’ll give ya that one. Why don’t you go on and get yourself ready for me, darling?,” he asked, but they both knew it was another command.

Soap couldn’t help the pointed stare he threw at the man. “Ye gonna make me do all the work, is that it?”

Ghost’s lopsided smile was answer enough. “I’m not the one who picked up the hat, Johnny.”

Johnny.

Fuck, why was that so hot to hear coming from his mouth? He really needed to get this thing moving.

Soap held his fingers out in front of the man’s mouth. When all he got was a questioning look in response, he rolled his eyes and pushed them against his lips. “Suck,” was all he said, patience wearing thin now.

Ghost opened his mouth slowly, letting Soap glide his fingers over his tongue. They were probably dirty as hell, covered in germs and popcorn butter but he didn’t really care at this point. The bastard would live. 

He was mesmerized as he watched Ghost work his tongue across his fingers. His mouth was hot, but nothing compared to the flames dancing across his skin as Ghost never lost eye contact during the whole ordeal. He could probably cum from this alone.

Before that thought became reality, Soap pulled his hand back. Watching the string of spit connecting his fingers to Ghost’s mouth glisten in the moonlight. 

He cursed lowly as he gripped himself in one hand, rising slightly before reaching around. He entered himself without a fuss, moaning at the friction as he slid his fingers in further. It burned a little, Ghost’s spit only helping ease the way so much. He preened like a peacock when he felt, more like heard, the other man’s sharp inhale below him. 

He started moving with a little more urgency at that, opening himself up while rocking his body back and forth. He wasn’t overly moaning like a whore, but he wasn’t exactly trying to hold back anything either. Quite enjoying the sharp little intakes of air and jerky movements of the man beneath him. He managed to get up to three fingers before he found that particular spot inside him. This time, his moans might have been a little porn starry. Ghost finally lifted his hands at that, gripping onto Soap’s hips like he was his lifeline. 

Soap wasn’t having any of that. He swatted the man’s hands away, pushing down on his chest with the hand not currently inside him when Ghost tried to protest. “No touching,” he scolded, taking great pleasure in the frustrated look on his face. 

Ghost grunted in response, like a damn toddler who didn’t get his way. “Awww,” Soap cooed at him, “Needy little thing, aren’t ye?” he said, throwing the other man’s words against him.

Ghost narrowed his eyes at that, but didn’t complain any further. “Funny.”

“I’d like to think so,” Soap replied. 

This time, when he went to undo Ghost’s belt, he wasn’t met with any resistance. With quick movements, he had Ghost pulled out in no time. Fucking hell. Massive was an understatement. It took everything in Soap to school his emotions. He wasn’t letting this bastard know how intimidated and equally impressed he was. He must have done a shit job cause Ghost had that satisfied, smug look back on his face. He could probably read minds for all he knew.

Soap gave a few quick pumps to Ghost’s cock before he lined himself up. He froze just as the other man was about to enter him. 

“The hat,” he said. It took a while before Ghost could tear his eyes away from where Soap hovered over his cock, the words finally registering before he reached up and placed his hat on Soap’s sweat-slicked mohawk. 

They were both burning up, feeling like a damn sauna in the backseat of the truck. The windows had fogged up a while ago as they swapped air in the small space, thankfully providing a thin form of privacy. 

Soap smiled as he adjusted the hat with one hand, the other still lining Ghost up as he slowly lowered himself down. 

Fuck.

They both moaned in chorus as Soap’s still too-tight heat enveloped Ghost’s cock. He sunk lower and lower at a glacial pace, letting gravity do the work and take some of the strain off his shaky legs.

He bottomed out eventually, resting on Ghost’s hips as he caught his breath. Ghost was panting below him, chest heaving as his body was strung tight with tension. Soap knew the man was dying to take control. Too fucking bad.

When Soap’s world wasn’t spinning anymore, he lifted himself back up before repeating the process all over again while setting a steady pace. He wasn’t going very fast, but he didn’t really need to. Ghost was so big that he reached all the spots he needed him too, the stretch and burn sending bolts shooting up his spine was enough for him.

He gripped tightly onto Ghost’s leather vest with his right hand, his own make shift bull rope as his left held onto the black hat resting on his head. He wasn’t nearly as tall as Ghost, but he still had to lean and bend at a weird angle to fit in the cramped space. He started to pick up a little speed, his movements mimicking Ghost’s from when he rode the bull earlier. Soap snapped his own hips back and forth, occasionally grinding down in a circular motion that had Ghost groaning unabashedly. 

He wasn’t normally one to be overly cocky, but he basked in the satisfaction of ruining this man. That calm and collected demeanor washed away by the panting, barely held back animal beneath him. Hell, he was equally just as ruined. He couldn’t contain the little punched out moans that escaped every time Ghost hit his prostate on each rock backward. He wouldn’t last a minute longer and judging by the shaking man before him, he wasn’t the only one. 

“S-Simon, pleaaase,” Soap groaned out between moans. He tried to convey everything he was thinking and wanted in that one word. Ghost being the mind reader he was picked up on it without dropping a beat. Like he was waiting for it.

He immediately grabbed onto Soap’s hips with enough force to bruise. Fuck, Soap wished they would. With one last glance at the man below him, Soap closed his eyes as Ghost started jackhammering into him. The car was a symphony of curses, moans, and grunts. Neither man holding back now. Soap removed his hand from the hat and pushed it against the ceiling, trying desperately to find purchase and not fall over. The rough movements had the sweat from his forehead running down his face, beads dropping onto Ghost’s chest off his nose and chin. He couldn’t find a single fiber of his being that cared.

His end was nearing and he wasn’t going to deny it this time. “Fuuuck, don’t s-stop,” he moaned as Ghost abused his prostate at the angle they were in. If Ghost decided now was a good time to tease the man, Soap would probably end up committing murder.

He could tell Ghost was almost at his breaking point as well. The man’s thrusts started to become wild, losing all sense of coordination as he chased his release. Soap screamed out when Ghost lifted his hand off his hip and grabbed his cock, pumping it in an off beat against his thrusts, never allowing Soap a second of reprieve from overwhelming sensation. 

“Go on, cum for me, Johnny,” he rasped out. Who was Soap to deny him?

Soap’s whole body seized as Ghost slammed into that bundle of nerves harder than he’d done all night. It felt like lightning was shooting through his body as his vision whited out. He didn’t even feel bad that he made a mess all over Ghost’s vest, too blissed out to even care. Ghost lasted around three and a half thrusts more before he was following Soap over the edge as well, cursing his name as he did. It was the best thing Soap had ever heard in his life. He responded with a groan as he felt Ghost empty out inside him. The feeling making his own spent cock twitch in response. Round two was not an option currently on the table. Soap felt like rolling over on the floor right there and taking a twenty hour nap after this. He didn’t think Ghost would mind very much.

They sat there for a few minutes, chests heaving and skin sweaty where they were still connected. Soap started looking around, his eyes scanning the man’s truck before he found what he was looking for in the center console. He popped the lid off and held it between his teeth as he unzipped Ghost’s soiled vest and unbuttoned his shirt. He ignored the curious eyes watching his movements. With the man’s chest now bear, Soap moved the marker to scribble out his number in his chicken scratch. He pulled back, looking down at his work with a satisfied expression as he capped the marker and tossed it over his shoulder. 

“Give me a call next time you’re in town, cowboy,” he said as he slowly raised himself off of Ghost’s softening cock. 

He wasn’t sure if the man had even heard him. His attention drawn to where he pulled out of Soap, his cum slowly starting to drip down his thighs. It was gonna be an uncomfortable ride home. He glanced around and grabbed his discarded clothes, doing his best to put them back on in the limited space. Ghost just sat there watching him, lounging across his backseat without a care in the world. 

Soap finally managed to put his shoes back on, pulling out his phone and ordering an Uber ride. He turned down Ghost’s offer to drive him home, he needed to get away from the man so his brain wasn’t mush anymore. With one last glance around, he leaned over Ghost on his knees. 

“Ye know, I like this hat. I think it’s mine now,” he stated.

“That so?” Ghost asked as he looked up at Soap.

“Yeah, it’s mine. Ye know what that means?” 

“What?” Ghost responded, genuinely curious. 

Soap lifted up the hat before lowering down, placing it back onto Ghost’s head as he whispered low in his ear. “Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.”

Soap didn’t say anything else as he exited the vehicle. The smile was uncontrollable as he walked across the gravel lot back to the car pick up zone.

 A man with a short circuiting brain laid in the backseat of his car behind him.

[munsonsduchess]

Wardrobe Malfunction

summary: you’ve worn the wrong clothes to school today, but Eddie is there to rescue you w/c: 695 warnings: swearing, use of pet names (sweetheart) a/n: I just needed this to exit my brain honestly. I saw this post and then @kokoshka67 said something about it and yeah

You were panicking. You hadn’t expected to have to be in the lab today, the teacher had told the entire class it would be further down the line and yet when you’d walked into class this morning Mrs Campbell had announced you’d all be working ahead of schedule.

Which is why you were currently in the faculty bathroom trying to reach your mom who wasn’t answering her cell. You just needed someone to bring you a pair of pants so you could actually participate in class and not just fail outright because today of all days you chose to wear a skirt.

“Fuck fuck fuck” you paced the bathroom and chewed on the nail of your thumb, “what am I gonna do?”

“Not to eavesdrop or anything but I might have a solution” a boys voice called from one of the stalls. You hadn’t even known anyone else was in the bathroom, Mrs Campbell had given you special permission to use the bathroom to try and call your mom.

As the door opened and Eddie Munson walked out you stopped chewing on your thumbnail for a moment to answer him,

“What do you mean?”

“Well. The way I see it you need pants, I happen to be wearing a pair today”

“I don’t get it. Are you telling me you’re gonna give me your pants?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Well more of a trade really”

“A trade?” you quirked an eyebrow at the strange look on Eddie’s face,

“Sure sweetheart. I’ll let you wear my pants for lab and you can give me your skirt for English and we’ll swap back after. If you want”

You could only imagine the look on your face to be some sort of comical shock by the way Eddie laughed,

“Why would you help me? You don’t even know me!”

“Call it my good deed for the month” Eddie laughed, “so what do you say? Wanna trade?”

“You’re crazy Munson” you laughed, Eddie already reaching for the zipper on his jeans, “alright, let’s trade”

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

What you hadn’t expected after your impromptu bathroom swap was Eddie Munson confidently strutting down the hallways of Hawkins High in your skirt drawing all the attention away from your ill fitting jeans.

If anyone was curious about where you’d squired the new bottom half of your clothing they didn’t say anything. Or rather Mrs Campbell didn’t give them time to.

After class it did occur to you that you didn’t know where Eddie’s English class was so you could swap back, you were grateful for the jeans but you did want your skirt back since it actually fit you properly.

You asked around and found Eddie outside the school on an old bench behind the football field,

“You know I think I might have to get a few of these” Eddie said instead of hello, “I feel so mobile” he demonstrated his new found mobility with an imitation of a cheerleading high kick which made you laugh loudly when he lost his balance and fell onto the grass below,

“Might be a little advanced for you” you said in between laughing, “maybe you should give me the skirt back”

“What if I wanna trade something again?” Eddie said with a smirk, “what then?”

“What else do you want to trade?” you asked, “notes in class?”

“How about a date?”

“A date?”

“Yeah. You can pick what you wanna trade it for”

You couldn’t help but laugh again. Eddie seemed so earnest,

“Alright, I'll trade for a date. How about my number?”

“Seems like a fair trade to me sweetheart”

“I still want my skirt back” you told him as you input your number into his phone,

“I don’t know. Seeing you in my clothes is really doing it for me” Eddie whispered in your ear making the hair on the back of your neck stand up, “but I’m a gentleman, gotta get that date first” he said stepping away and holding up his hands

“Dork” you laughed again. You hadn’t anticipated this is how your day would turn out but you were happier than ever you’d chosen to wear a skirt that morning.

Taglist: @pillow-titties @munsonology @thegirlblogstuff @boomhauer @prettyboyeddiemunson @hellfireeddie6 @that-lame-ghoul9000 @flashyourgreeneyesatme @anxiousstark @ruinedbythehobbit @winnifredburkleismyhero @manda-panda-monium @insertcoolnameherethanks @aftermidnightwriting @mcbeanzontoast @tiannamortis

[alwerakoo]

Baby Blue (Chapter 3)

Rise of the TMNT Leonardo/Yuichi Usagi Chapter 3 of a longer fic THIS IS PART OF A SERIES - might be confusing to read without context

AO3

---

The air smells different here.

So high up it's light and cold, and when he breathes in it's like getting a lungful of icy water down his throat. The sun is bright and high, but the chilly wind makes him shiver anyway. He raises his hands reflexively, curling his fingers around his shoulders and burrowing into his own sweatshirt. It's not exactly cold, not for most people, but the wind always settles easily between their ribs – their skin built for hours of sun and humidity, not the chill. And he's always been a little too careful about it, ever since he lived past thirteen. He glances back to where the portal stands open and catches the exact moment Usagi's eyes widen in sudden surprise. “Wow.” He breathes, and Leo can't help but agree.

It's miles and piles of blue and green; and blinding white from how the sun hits the water; and waves of leaves washing over sharp rocks, soothing them into slopes; and pale tracks that boats leave on the lakes' surface; and gray fog blending the horizon with the sky; and everything Leo used to think he'd never get to see. “Where is this?” Usagi asks, tearing her gaze away from the horizon to look at Leo, which in itself seems like the ultimate compliment.

Leo can't help but preen under it, a little. “Oh, I don't know.” He shrugs, all casual. “Somewhere in Europe?” As if he hadn't spent hours hunched over tourist guides and maps, wasted countless energy and brain cells trying out new portals, blindly searching for places that might, theoretically, one day, be nice enough to take Usagi there. If Donnie were here, he'd give him one of his 'The great country of Europe?' looks. But he isn't, and that's a good thing, because it means Leo doesn't hesitate before reaching out again, taking his friend's hand and pulling him down. Usagi seems a little shaky, at least under Leo's touch, and his knees give way far too easily.

He sits cross-legged, resting his chin on the stuffed dinosaur clutched to his chest, before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Leo sits down next to him, but a little further away, folding his arms around his knees. Because he knows what this is. Or at least, he thinks he does. It's been a sort of vague, but nagging suspicion, taking shape in his head since the moment he met him, and his mind immediately has captured all the ways in which Usagi was different. He'd like to say that Usagi wasn't like anyone he'd ever met, and that might be true, for the most part. But in these small moments, the details, in the deeper outline of his whole person – down to the bare bone – Usagi reminded him of Donnie. Which was both incredibly embarrassing and very helpful. He knew that something in Donnie ticked differently since he'd met him. Never in a bad way; Purple had been his friend, and then his other half, and then his brother. It was just one of those things he'd shaped himself around. Reading true emotion in his seemingly impassive features, tone, and words was part of Leo's nature, in the same way that keeping Leo grounded was for Donnie. It just took him a few years to finally find the right words.

They never talked about it. But Raph was the first one to reach out to the internet, back when they still shared a phone, and unfortunately – browsing history. He's not sure why his brother kept it to himself, but he wasn't going to ask.

Leo followed his research, even if he never felt like he needed to before. There was nothing psychology books and videos could tell him about Donnie, that he didn't already know.

Maybe that was vain of him. Probably. And they never talked about it with Donnie or Mikey, either. Maybe they should, because the awareness their brothers had of certain things started to seem very questionable ever since he had learned a bit more about Mikey's doctors. Usagi was the polar opposite of his brother in as many ways as they were the exact same, and Leo has no intention of talking about it – not right now. But he's a little glad for it, anyway. “Do you want this?” He asks, reaching into his pocket and quickly pulling out a blue, plastic yo-yo.

It's a cheap toy he found abandoned on the street, and he's been carrying it around with him all day, because giving it to Usagi in front of all his siblings seemed incredibly embarrassing, and he only felt more and more stupid the longer he waited. It's not nearly as well-made as the ones Usagi usually carries around. Despite that, his friend's eyes widen in silent delight. He reaches out, closing his hand around the plastic – a decidedly positive turn of events considering that his tendency to twist his own fingers only seemed to increase with each passing moment. “Wow,” he says, a lot more sincere than Leo could've expected. “Yeah. Thanks.” He stretches the yo-yo, tying the string around his fingers in an apparently soothing gesture that certainly cuts off any blood flow. He sighs heavily then, slumping down on his back abruptly. His shirt is light gray, but Usagi has never struck him as someone who cares about the state of his clothes in any particular way. It's one of the things he doesn't share with Leo, which is why he only sits sideways, resting his hand on the ground by Usagi's hip.

“Feeling better?” Leo asks. Perhaps a bit foolishly, considering that in the time it took him to find the right tone of voice, Usagi started chewing on the colorful plastic of his new yo-yo. Leo isn't entirely sure if he does it because he's a rabbit or because he's Usagi, but he decides to leave it without a comment. Usagi shrugs, tapping out a rhythm on his chest with his free hand. “Okay,” Leo says, nodding. “We can wait a moment.”

He immediately winces at the sound of his own words, because the last thing he wants in Usagi's company is to be perceived as patronizing. He's not sure how his friend feels about that, but he doesn't protest, tightening his arm around his plushie's neck – effectively holding it in an impressive headlock. Leo tilts his head up, closing his eyes. The sun warms his face, but a cold gust of wind still makes him pull his legs up, pulling his hoodie over his knees. He hears Usagi breathing; deep and long breaths, and his own body involuntarily matches the new, slowed pace. The silence is broken only by a sudden, shrill buzz from Usagi's pocket, which Leo recognizes as a message ringtone only after his friend pulls out his cell phone.

Usagi opens his phone with the look of someone expecting the worst, and closes it with the look of someone who got just what he expected. Leo opens his mouth, but before he has a chance to ask, Usagi sits up. “I hate this shirt,” he states. Leo examines his clothing with pointed concern. The shirt is a little sweaty, a little dusty from the ground, and a little ugly in that way all the oldest, most comfortable shirts are. “What's wrong with it?” He asks, mostly out of genuine curiosity. “It's touching me,” Usagi says, as if that were the greatest possible offense, and not an entirely predictable and usually desirable aspect of clothes. But clearly, at this particular moment, Usagi is firmly on the side of the former, because he immediately grabs the material, pulling the shirt over his head without a moment's hesitation. Leo quickly looks away, raising a hand to cover the side of his face. “Dude,” he hisses quietly, feeling a sudden wave of heat flood his cheeks.

Usagi laughs, a little quietly but completely sincerely. “Don't be a prude,” he says, unceremoniously tossing his shirt aside. It's quite possibly the worst thing he could've ever said to Leo.

He quickly turns back, dropping his hand and huffing quietly. “I'm as far from a prude as you can get,” Leo states, which is basically true. Perhaps 'shy' would be a better description. But only in this particular case, with this particular boy, which probably made him seem a little pathetic as well. And down bad. Still, he notes with slight relief that his friend is still in his undershirt – equally faded from years of adoration and use. Usagi smiles, in that special way reserved only for Leo and moments when he knows he left him almost speechless. “I see you're feeling better,” Leo adds.

It comes out much more sincerely than he intended, and Usagi's face softens. The stuffed animal rests between his knees, and Usagi reaches out, absentmindedly smoothing the green material. “Sometimes loud places are overwhelming,” he explains. Leo frowns a little. He knows all too well how loud and chaotic the Hotel can get during rush hour, but he's never seen Usagi actually work for more than a few minutes. Because that's usually how long it took them to drag him away from whatever he was doing, and into the middle of their own, decidedly less noble plans. “Really?” He says instead, trying to keep his tone light, searching for the nearest possible joke he could grab onto. “So you had to make your ringtone even louder?”

Usagi grimaces more than he smiles. “Only for my family. They don't like it when I don't answer their calls.”

Leo's smile falls as quickly as the air freezes in his lungs. It's the kind of simple, seemingly insignificant sentence that sticks itself in the back of his mind like a needle, pulling down a whole wave of dominoes that had been piling up for a long time. He thinks too much even on better days, but too many small statements, off-handed comments, and careful understatements are suddenly gathering in his mind into a vague, ominous image. It will eat him from the inside if he doesn't ask. “Sagi,” he begins. And ends, because it's a difficult topic to discuss, even harder to bring up in such an open, sudden way. Usagi, as a rule, hardly ever talks about his family, and Leo's mind still boggles with the memory of their old conversation on the roof, refreshed by the new context. 'I only talk about my home life on the second date.' Leo isn't sure if today counts as a 'date', and the more he thinks about it, the more foolish and insignificant it feels.

“That's...” He swallows, and Usagi's face fills with sudden worry. “What does that mean?”

Usagi's silent, staring at him for a moment, until a flash of understanding crosses his face. And then panic. “Oh! No,” he says quickly, raising his hands as if in defense. “Oh, that sounded bad. No, seriously, it's not like that. Seriously.”

He reaches out, squeezing Leo's forearms as if to emphasize. Leo takes a breath, and with the next exhale – he starts to believe him. Usagi has never lied to him before, or at least not so directly, not about anything so important.

Perhaps it's a manifestation of naivety on his part, blind trust, but Usagi belongs to the small group of people with whom he had an unwavering tendency to be just that. “Okay,” he says, when Usagi lowers his hands and squeezes his elbows, before pulling them back completely. “Really,” Usagi repeats. “We just... Don't get along.” Leo knows that these words hide years of hidden resentment, pain, and reproach. He knows because Raph has a fierce tendency to overuse them when it comes to Splinter. He winces slightly in sympathy. “Yeah.” He leans back, resting his hands on the grass. He gives his friend an understanding and only slightly forced smile. “That's how it is with parents.”

“Oh.” Usagi sits but a little straighter, smoothing his hands over his ears. “My parents are dead.” Leo's face falls. He likes to think of himself as someone with good social awareness. At least when he wants it to be so. He has enough tact to make up for the four of them, because for all their virtues and good sides, his brothers never had much of it themselves. Now, he wishes that were the case. He wishes he had someone with even more tact; someone who wouldn't hesitate for a moment in their impeccable display of empathy; someone who would tell him what to do. But he's alone, and all he knows is what he wants to do. His chest is heavy; filled with something equally infinitely upset and amused – in that hysterical, humorless way. Usagi didn't talk much about his family, but he never mentioned his parents once, and maybe that fact alone should've left Leo with enough context to figure it out. But Usagi had an uncanny knack for always taking him by surprise, and it was all so much like him, that he can't help but be slightly amused.

Which very quickly makes him feel like a bad person and an even worse friend.

And this is exactly what he was so afraid of.

He's scared to ruin something so fresh and new, something so important – and not only to him. Scared to hurt him, to say anything wrong.

Usagi is Leo's friend, but he's Donnie's and Mikey's family, in the same way April is his. He's so important, larger than life, and he lays himself completely bare in front of Leo; turning head and exposing throat, like a dog who was never bitten before.

And Leo bites.

But the last thing Usagi probably wanted from him was sympathy, at least considering that there wasn't even a hint of grief in his voice.

Pity is bad, indifference is even worse, and Leo isn't convinced to what extent he's able to take any of this in like a normal person.

“Oh, wow,” he says, his voice shaking slightly. “Okay.”

Usagi's face is filled with too many emotions at once, as if the tone and meaning of his own words always reached him with a slight delay.

“Ah,” he says, quietly. “Is this too much at once? I'm sorry.”

He sounds completely sincere, which definitely doesn't help the whole situation.

Leo raises his hands, covering his cheeks. “You don't have to apologize for your parents being dead,” he says. And then he giggles, short and hysterical, and only a little breathless. Usagi smiles, the corners of his mouth quivering slightly. He doesn't seem offended or upset in any way, which Leo quickly considers to be the greatest success he could've hoped for. “Do you need... I don't know, a hug?” He asks uncertainly, half-jokingly. “No,” Usagi replies. But then his smile returns, this time completely sincere and open. “But I want one.” He reaches out, crossing his arms behind Leo's back, and leans forward, burying his face in his shoulder. His fur is impossibly soft, and Leo laughs quietly as it tickles his neck. Something squeezes in his chest as he tightens his own arms around Usagi. Usagi is everything new, something he kept as his biggest secret just a few years ago, but above all else – he's his friend. And the knowledge that he never expects anything from Leo, other than just himself, fills him with a familiar warmth. “My parents have been dead for a long time,” Usagi says, turning his head to rest his cheek on Leo's shoulder. When they are with Leo's brothers, Mikey and Usagi seem inseparable at times. Leo's never sure how much of it is due to their personalities and years of knowing each other, and how much to the fact that Usagi's fur is the softest thing he's ever felt, and if he were his brother, he wouldn't pass up any opportunity to touch it either. “Do you remember them?” Leo asks, perhaps a bit boldly, but Usagi answers without hesitation. “No. My dad was already sick when my mom got pregnant with me. I was born too early; she died in childbirth.”

His tone is completely neutral, but not indifferent. It's just a fact, as much a part of life as his age or name. “Oh,” Leo says, quietly. And then, because he's clearly lost all his sense of dignity on the way up this mountain: “Is that why Draxum keeps saying you're under-cooked?”

Usagi laughs, hearty and short, finally straightening to meet Leo's eyes. But he doesn't pull away, allowing their knees to still touch. “I think so,” Usagi says. But then a slightly worried look crosses his face. “Well, I hope so.”

Leo shakes his head. There are many things he hopes will change someday. Usagi is not one of them.

[miss-choi-park]

Sin never tasted so...

Chapter 11 - Better than Shakespeare (Finale)

A TXT Yeonjun Fanfiction from Mrs. Choi-Park

CEO/non-idol/dom/bully!Yeonjun! / Confident/sub/named/fem!Reader!

Previous Chapter:

[...] It wasn't my decision, it was that of a person who I never thought would make my life worth living so much. And I was more than ready to make a decision that had the same significance and made his life worth living so that he felt the way I felt right now.

Warnings are not needed I think😆

Please remember that I fully respect the privacy of all K-Pop Idols and that this is just a fantasy. It's not my intention to harm anyone! (I've been a MOA since March 2023)

“Okay, see you there, honey.” Yeonjun said, before I pressed the ‘call end’ symbol.

It was Tuesday now…three days since Yeonjun made his decision to leave his parents and their company. Even though I had told him again and again that his parents would definitely pull themselves together and get in touch with him, I didn't seem to be right.

On Sunday we both made the decision to tell my parents everything before it might be too late. They deserved to know the truth, even if no one could predict their reaction.

I had simply told my parents that I wanted to introduce them to a boy. No more and no less. They sounded happily surprised on their cell phones and they were looking forward to the dinner, which was about to happen. Since Yuna knew about me and Yeonjun, I begged her to busy my mind beforehand. So we went shopping in town before it turned 5 o'clock and I had to say goodbye to my bestie. Yeonjun would drive himself to my parents while I took the bus. It would have been a detour for him to get to the city first, even if he offered to pick me up.

Anyway, I was now sitting in the bus and it was just before the stop where I had to get off. Yeonjun would come later than me, which was a good thing. The quarter hour gave me the opportunity to raise some awareness within my parents.

I stared absentmindedly at the road rushing beneath the bus.

To be honest, I was so excited that I felt like I was going to take off at any moment. On the other hand, telling my parents the truth was the right decision. Even though I didn't think they would disown me like Yeonjun's parents did... I didn't want to risk it either.

I trusted my parents...that they would understand...I hoped.

The announcement of the stop at which I had to get off echoed through the almost empty bus, so I dug my nails deeper into my bag.

The tiredness from this morning was gone. I couldn't get any rest tonight and the three lectures didn't really help either...but as time progressed...my heart beat faster and faster against my chest. The bus stopped and I got up to get off, although I briefly thought about just staying seated.

Today was a surprisingly beautiful day. My birthday was approaching and I fervently hoped to be able to celebrate it with my parents.

I had to walk for about five minutes to get to my parents' house, unfortunately today it felt like an hour. It was probably because I was walking so slowly.

My heart was beating faster and faster, my stomach was twisting and my intestines didn't seem to leave me in peace either.

A little desperate, I looked at my cell phone, which showed me the time was 5:37 p.m. I had told my parents I would be there at half past five...so I was already a little late. I could imagine 50,000 other scenarios that I would prefer right now. What was I even supposed to say?!

...actually I had been racking my brain about it all day today...on two occasions I even had some pretty good ideas...but unfortunately I had forgotten them again.

I finally stopped in front of my parents' house.

My gaze wandered over the suburban home where I grew up. I used to call it home...but right now it felt like a house of horrors that I didn't want to go into.

Come on Sumi! You've waited long enough. They are your parents, they deserve the truth!

I hesitantly walked along the entrance until I finally stopped in front of the front door and hesitantly put my finger on the doorbell and finally pressed it after five seconds.

My mother literally seemed to have been waiting behind the door as quickly as she opened it.

"Ah, there you are!” She greeted me and pulled me straight into a hug.

"How are you? Everything good?" She continued to ask as she let go of me and invited me inside.

I looked at her for a moment.

"I am fine." I lied and my mother smiled widely before looking over my shoulder.

"Where did you leave your boyfriend?” She asked and I gulped as I kicked off my sneakers.

"He...he's coming soon.” I muttered as I got rid of my shoes and crawled into the slippers that were waiting for me.

Meanwhile, my mother closed the door behind me.

"I guess the gentleman is shy, huh?" I heard my father's voice, which made me look up. He was standing in the hallway and smiled warmly at me.

I took a breath...

"Seems so." I muttered.

My father laughed briefly before turning around and disappearing into the living room, where my mother followed him.

"I made delicious food!" My mother announced and I trotted into the living room after my parents.

My father was already sitting at the dining table and had opened the newspapers that he had probably read.

My mother stood behind the kitchen island and poured some water into a glass.

Oh man...they seemed really happy...and there was nothing wrong with that...but I felt like I was under electricity.

"Here. When is your darling coming?” My mother asked, handing me the glass. I wrinkled my nose and took the glass from her.

"I don't use that pet name for him." I said and my father started to laugh, which drew my mother and my attention to him.

"What do you call him?" He asked and I took a sip first. Oh man, how do I start this off gently before Yeonjun rings here in no less than ten minutes?!

"He usually calls me Honey or... little one and I...I don't know...", something popped up in my mind, that seemed like a good start, "I call him Junnie."

"Junnie? Is that a nickname?" my father asked, he still had a big smile on his lips.

"How long have you been together?" My mother asked before I took another sip, hoping it would calm me down.

"Two months." I mumbled and mom's eyes widened.

"Really?"

"Hm..."

Then there was silence in which I could swear I could hear my heartbeat.

"I can't wait to meet him." My father said and took off his glasses. I just nodded.

"He...may not be what...you imagine." I said sheepishly, even though I could barely hear myself.

"Oh, sweetie, don't be so afraid, as long as he's nice to you, we'll like him." My mother said and went to my father.

If only she didn't regret that statement.

She sat down next to my father who nodded.

"We'll be nice, you know us." he said.

Yes...I knew them...and I knew who they hated...

"Sit down first, when is your boyfriend coming?" Dad asked, pointing to a chair at the front of the table.

I took another breath before slowly starting to move.

It was a miracle that I wasn't shaking with excitement.

"Maybe in ten minutes." I said as I sat down.

"Then it's good." My father said and put his glasses back on to continue reading his magazine. Meanwhile, I turned my glass around in my hands.

Damn, Yeonjun was coming soon and I hadn't prepared my parents for what was about to happen.

"If he's nice to me...can you get along with anyone?” I asked cautiously as I lifted my gaze and looked my mother in the eyes again.

"Of course sweetie, why are you so scared?"

My mother just knew me too well. She could smell my emotional state from ten meters away, against the wind.

"Because he...he really won't be what you expect.” I said cautiously, which made my father look up from his magazine.

He raised an eyebrow: "Hopefully he's not older than me..."

I started to laugh briefly before looking back at my glass, "No...he's only four years older than me."

"Oh so much older? I thought it was someone from your university." My mother said and I looked up again.

"No...he...we know each other from somewhere else.” I said and my parents exchanged a look.

"But four years is nothing...I mean your mother and I are six years apart.” My father pointed out and I began to nod again.

I jumped when the doorbell rang.

Shit! Yeonjun not yet!

"Oh that must be him!" My mother said and jumped up from her chair. Like her, I jumped up, which attracted everyone's attention.

"I'm opening the door! Please wait here!" I almost demanded. My parents raised their eyebrows.

"Yeah...okay, we'll stay here." My father tried to calm me down. However, my brain was numb.

This wasn't the perfect time Yeonjun! If only I had walked a little faster earlier.

Without saying anything, I turned around and practically ran out of the living room. I quickly rushed to the door, glanced over my shoulder to make sure my parents weren't looking and opened the door once I was sure.

"Oh...hey." Yeonjun greeted me, seeming relieved to see me behind the door.

"Lucky you're already here, I thought I was too early.” He said, but I didn't say anything in response, just pushed him back a little and also stepped out of the door, only to pull it slightly behind me so that my parents wouldn't recognize his voice immediately.

"Everything OK?"

"You're way too early! I haven't had any time to prepare them yet!” I said frantically, but so quietly that only Yeonjun would understand me.

His big surprised eyes quickly softened as he began to smile.

"I thought you said you weren't excited." He said and put a hand on my waist. He pulled me a little closer to him and I couldn't help the pent-up feeling from running out of my lungs.

He was right, but I only said that to calm him down. He was so restless on Sunday that I had to calm him down somehow. So I just said that. And it wasn't a lie on Sunday I really wasn't afraid, but things looked completely different now.

"I'm excited as shit..." I admitted as I placed my hands against his chest. His light blue denim jacket served as support.

"Little one, we'll manage it." Yeonjun murmured before I felt his forehead fall against mine. I closed my eyes shortly afterwards.

"Remember? As long as we stay together, we'll get through it all..." He whispered and, as if by magic, my heart calmed down a little. Yeonjun was right! No matter what happened...we would stick together.

"You look amazing by the way!" Yeonjun said after leaning back. This statement brought a smile to my lips. When I looked up at him I was greeted by a warm smile that told me everything was going to be okay.

"You too." I murmured, which only made his smile grow wider.

I really loved when he styled his fluffy hair in a pony, it made his features so much kinder and sweeter.

"We're going in here together and out together, no matter what happens.” He said and I couldn't help but pull myself up on tiptoes and give him a quick kiss on the lips.

"I love you!" I whispered after I was fully back on my feet.

Yeonjun had to laugh for a moment: "Hmm...good for you!"

His statement was followed by a slap on my butt. I rolled my eyes before taking his hand in mine and taking another breath.

I could do it all with him. It was almost scary how quickly Yeonjun calmed my excitement. Of course my stomach was still churning, but I seemed to be calmer in everything.

Finally I turned around and pulled him with me.

With him on my hand, I felt prepared for whatever might come. So I opened the door without thinking about it and led Yeonjun into the house where I would never have ever expected him to be.

Yeonjun quickly took off his shoes and put on the slightly larger slippers, before we exchanged a quick look. Yeonjun pressed his lips together and nodded once, which told me it was now or never.

A little hesitantly, I turned around and led the way.

However, I positioned myself in the entrance to the living room so that Yeonjun wouldn't be visible behind me.

"You have to promise me not to freak out." I said to my parents who were sitting expectantly at the dinner table.

My father laughed: "Bring him in already!"

I took a deep breath as I looked intently at my parents. I slowly entered the room so Yeonjun could enter too. He was following me, from what I could make out by the footsteps behind me. My eyes never left my parents for a second, not even when both of their jaws dropped.

I held my breath as I saw Yeonjun bowing next to me.

"Hello...nice to see you again.” Yeonjun greeted my parents respectfully before standing upright again.

No one in the room said anything after that. I didn't even think I could hear or see my parents breathing. Only the ticking clock brought an impatient sound into the silence.

My mother was the first to close her mouth and look at me. Her face was hard to read, but I didn't have time to as my father pushed his chair back and slowly got up.

I could read his look exactly. He was angry...every muscle in his face told me that. My heart began to beat faster again.

"Dad...please don't be angry...I told you he's not what you expected." I tried to reassure my father as he rounded the table. His gaze was fixed on Yeonjun, who audibly gasped as my father approached.

Instinctively, I took a step forward and stopped my father by placing my hands on his chest. He would never harm me, but I wasn't so sure about Yeonjun...the way my father looked at him.

"Dad please. Listen to us first.” I tried to calm him down and his eyes actually found mine.

"Mike...Sumi is right, let's eat first." I heard my mother's voice. Hearing her statement gave me some strength to hold my father's gaze longer.

"Choi Yeonjun?!" my father hissed. But before I could reply, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Sir, I have no intention of insulting you. I'm not like my parents, I don't mean to harm you. All I want is a nice dinner to explain all this." I heard Yeonjun say, which gave me even more strength.

My father looked intently at Yeonjun behind me. But to my relief, every fiber of his being no longer seemed to want Yeonjun dead.

"Dinner with you?!" my father asked and suddenly I saw my mother next to him.

"Mike, sit down. Don't do anything stupid.” She said and my father seemed to calm down a little more, which calmed the racing of my heart too.

My father's gaze shifted to my mother, who pulled him back and smiled warmly at him.

When my father actually went back to his chair a little later, Yeonjun and I let out our breaths at the same time.

"Sit down, I will serve the food.” My mother said, looking back and forth between me and Yeonjun.

Unlike my father she seemed calmer and genuinely friendly. After she turned around into the kitchen, I exchanged a look with Yeonjun and raised my eyebrows briefly and shrugged.

Then I waled over and sat on the chair opposite my father, who looked at me skeptically. His eyebrows were so drawn together that you'd think he had a monobrow. Yeonjun sat down next to me shortly afterwards and my father's gaze wandered over to him, his face actually turned even darker like a cartoon character.

There was a more than awkward silence as my father leaned back and folded his hands over his ever-growing beer belly. He twiddled his thumbs more than obviously as he eyed Yeonjun. I could clearly feel his tension.

"What would you like to drink?" My mother asked, coming back to us and putting a glass in front of everyone.

She broke the awkward silence with a genuine smile on her lips.

"Beer…” My father grumbled at first and my eyes followed back to him. His gaze was still fixed on Yeonjun, as if he was silently asking him to say something next.

I started grinding my teeth. My excitement hadn't subsided in the slightest.

"I would like-"

"He's having a beer too!" My father interrupted Yeonjun. My tension grew.

“What do you want, my darling?” My mother asked and I slowly looked away from my father. Normally I would help my mother to get everything on the table, but I didn't dare leaving my father alone with Yeonjun.

"Please...something with alcohol too." I asked her and I also felt the other eyes on me.

Mom just nodded a little skeptical and turned around again.

I also turned back to my father, whose face seemed a little more relaxed.

Luckily my mother came back quickly and put the two bottles of beer on the table. She passed me a cocktail that she had probably already prepared. She had the same one.

My father grabbed his bottle pretty quickly and poured some into his beer glass, which Yeonjun did the same.

My father didn't hesitate for long and raised his glass to his lips. I was afraid he would drink it in one go as long as he sucked on the glass.

When he finally lowered it and half the glass was in his stomach, he cleared his throat.

"Two months, huh?” He began and I clutched my glass like a madwoman.

"We should have told you earlier...but it was...complicated.” Yeonjun took over the speaking, which took a huge burden off my shoulders.

"No no...you should wait two months anyway.", Dad said and then looked at me, "You should know whether it's something serious, right?"

I swallowed.

"So I think it's wonderful." My mother announced and caught everyone's attention.

Oh really?!

My mother looked around and her gaze landed on Yeonjun.

''Maybe we can finally settle the dispute like that.'' she continued and then looked at me. Her smile grew, if at all possible, even wider. All I heard from my father was an unconventional 'hm'.

''I'm not really sure about that.'’ Yeonjun said. His voice sounded defeated, which drew my eyes back to him.

Yeonjun fumbled his glass between his hands and stared briefly into the beer inside.

''My parents found out about this the wrong way…’’, Yeonjun looked up at my mother again and gave her a small smile, ''We had quite a fight.''

My mother's smile was gone when I looked back at her.

''What kind of argument?'' my father asked in between, attracting everyone's attention again.

''My father was very angry when he found out about me and Sumi.''

''Something completely new.'' my father grumbled.

''He kicked me out.'' Yeonjun said quickly before finally raising his glass and taking a sip.

My father's eyes widened and his gaze flickered to me: ''Kicked you out?''

I should finally say something.

''Do you see Dad? Yeonjun is not like what you think.''

''I decided against my family because my father wouldn't allow it.’’ Yeonjun said after lowering the glass again, which drew my father's gaze back to him. He studied Yeonjun for a while before leaning back in his chair.

You could literally hear the cogs working in his head.

''If that's not a token of love.'' my mother said quietly and I had to start smiling, but my eyes went to my lap. She was right, it really was.

''Really unbelievable, who would throw their own child out the door?'' My father asked and I looked up again.

''Oh, I have my own apartment, don't worry. I just have to look for my career somewhere else now." Yeonjun admitted and I looked at him again. We exchanged a quick look in which I tried to smile reassuringly at him before I also raised my glass to my lips.

''I...maybe I can help you there.'' my father said and Yeonjun's eyes widened.

''Excuse me?'' he asked my father as my eyes also went to my father.

''Two birds with one stone. I help my daughter's boyfriend to his feet and thus wipe out my competitor. Old Choi probably won't be happy to hear that his son is working for us.''

There was a moment of silence. Did my father just offer Yeonjun a job?! Was I dreaming?

''Of course only if you accept the offer.'' my father said and raised his eyebrows. I looked at Yeonjun, who was obviously completely perplexed...just like me.

''Wha-what kind of job?'' he asked and my father laughed.

''Well all the major management positions have been filled, but we still need readers. I'm sure you recognize good books when you read them, am I right?", My father said, raising his hand as he said, ''Starting salary 3.700.500 won per month without deductions.''

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Yeonjun's jaw drop.

I stared at my father like a dumb bird as well.

''OK 3.800.500 won, I can't get you more than that. Probably still a lot less than you earned from your parents.''

''Oh no, no! I-wow that's a really...thank you.'' Yeonjun stuttered.

My father started to smile as he looked at me.

''You don't have to be afraid that I'll kick you out because of this, mouse, hopefully you know that. As long as you're happy, I'm happy too," he said, leaning forward a little.

I nodded immediately, only then could I start to smile.

''Good!'' my father said a little louder and raised his glass, ''Then on a successful future!''

The rest of the evening was surprisingly friendly and open-minded. My parents, especially my father, seemed to accept Yeonjun more and more every minute and I was honestly happy that my parents took it so well. I have to admit once I got here, there was really a part of me that was afraid my parents would react the same way Yeonjun's did.

But with my parents like this I could look calmly into the future and the same goes for Yeonjun, who introduced my parents to Hueningkai and his Manhwa on the first day in the company. Hueningkai had already canceled the contract with the Choi's one day after the argument between Yeonjun and his parents. He said he wanted to publish it together with Yeonjun and not otherwise. So Yeonjun brought a great success to our company, which only made my father like him even more.

Every day felt like a fairytale after that drama with Yeonjun's parents. And even though I thought my life felt like Romeo and Juliet at one point...it was ultimately much better than Shakespeare's drama.

Two months later

It was Sunday and I was sitting at the breakfast table with Yeonjun in his apartment. As almost always, I had only woken up ten minutes ago and Yeonjun had already prepared breakfast. He was typing away on his phone as I drank my orange juice.

''Huening just can't stop thanking me.’’ Yeonjun finally broke the silence and I laughed when he looked at me.

''We should actually thank him.'' I retorted as I lowered my glass again.

Yeonjun nodded with a smile and looked back at the screen after it vibrated again.

''We can invite him to dinner sometime.'' I suggested and looked at Yeonjun again. He stared frozen at his display.

''Are you okay?'' I asked and Yeonjun looked at me without moving a muscle in his face. I raised an eyebrow, when he turned his phone towards me my eyes widened too.

The chat he showed me was between his mother and him.

I recognized a message, the first in two months:

Yeonjun, your father would never admit it, but he misses you and he's sorry. I finally convinced him to talk to you again. I'm also so sorry that I didn't get in touch sooner, but I was honestly embarrassed to write to you, after what your father did. We would both be happy to invite you to dinner on your next day off, preferably with Jung Sumi.

Love Mom.

The Story ends here. Thanks to all the readers. I hope to see you all soon☺️🙏🫰

Read on Wattpad

[justacynicalromantic]

So, I am new to The Sandman fandom but I already see I am not the only one to think about the idea of Hob being the personification of Hope.

This was literally the first theory that popped inside my mind after I had finished watching the season, before I even opened any fandom platform lol. Either it's a very obvious logic leap to make, or we all share one single brain cell, despite living half a world apart and not knowing each other😂

But I haven't seen anyone actually connecting it to the Pandora's Box myth.

For those who do not know, the myth tells about the creation of humankind - that men were modelled from clay by Prometheus (which angered Zeus), then Prometheus gave them fire (which was the final nail in the coffin and Zeus decided to exact punishment), Zeus created the first woman Pandora, gave her a jar/box containing all bad things - suffering, illness, pain, sorrow, etc. - thus when she opened it, she ended the Paradise on Earth. But Zeus didn't know that Prometheus also snuck Hope (who Greeks called Elpis - she was depicted as a young woman usually carrying cornucopia flowers) into the box. When Pandora opened the box and released trouble and woe into the world, hope was there to help people survive.

Hesiod (the storyteller of the myth) does not say why Hope (Elpis) remained in the jar. The implications of Elpis remaining in the jar were the subject of intense debate even in antiquity.

Now, consider this: Dream and Hope actually knowing each other from before humankind on Earth, being dual aspects of each other - in Hades/Persephone fashion - they fell in love and Dream courted Hope; when Pandora's story happens and Prometheus comes for Hope's help (or Hope overhears Zeus' plans and comes to Prometheus proposing the plan herself), Dream is away for work/some other businesses somewhere. The events happen without Dream's knowing.

In the end we know Zeus exacts his revenge on Prometheus by binding him to a rock and having an eagle feed on him, but what if Zeus also decided to punish Hope? I know he would be a tier below Hope, because he was just a god, while Hope - a personified concept like Dream, but he could have done it sneakily, capturing her with magic, like it happened to Dream much later. What if Zeus, seeing the effect Hope had on humans thought it was useful and decided to kill two birds with one stone?

So he bound Hope to a human form - so Hope is always there for humans in their world, but also as her punishment, she is diminished to a mortal body, her human mind no longer able to contain her memories of her existence as a spirit/concept, bound to live a human lifespan, die, then be reborn again into a new human.

Dream returns and Hope is nowhere to be found, no one knows anything (no one was there when Zeus captured Hope), centuries pass of fruitless searching but humans are able to hope - and that must mean she is there somewhere and she is fine, so in the end Dream has no choice but to conclude that she decided to leave him and now hides from him out of her own volition.

And so, humans get hope, but Dream loses Hope.

All until many millenia later by pure coincidence he strikes a deal with a human called Hob Gadling - who has no idea he is the current reincarnation of Hope.

(I can't get rid of the mental image: after the struggles are over and Hob/Hope remembers everything, he pops up, feeling nervous and guilty and sorry, into the Dreaming, and Dream greets him with "You are late" said with a trembling smile).

[planet-crait]

Battle of the Dimmsinian is next! I hope this is the correct next episode because the website I’m using has a few episode repeated and I’m trying to go off of the wiki.

Ohhh Dev is back along with Peri! I imagine they find out about each others fairies in this episode? We’ll see but oh. This could really hurt this is the first time they’ll likely have spoken since their falling out in Founders day. But…this raises the question if Peri has been with Dev this whole time how would Cosmo and Wanda and Peri not notice each other before? I know they’re surprised he has a godkid when they met up so they somehow didn’t and I have questions.

They’re sleeping over at a museum? Wild. I’ve heard of schools sleeping over at places but I never like experienced that or saw it at my school. Ohhh we’re getting a look at Devs wishes. I imagine since it’s purple Peri poofed the helicopter to take Dev which is interesting. Oh Dev wants to looks cool. Maybe he thinks it’ll help him make friends by being helicopter cool? Oh no. Sunglasses are back noooooo, he’s emotionally closed off it seems even to Peri which given how tired and frustrated Peri seems with Dev already it’s not too surprising.

He’s closing himself off again that hurts. I get it after Hazel turning on him like she did and him retreating cuz she was his only friend but it hurts. Yes I am attached to the smol child I know about the ending I don’t care he’s abused and I just. Fuck it gives me feelings.

Oh Dev is changing the wish how is that not causing a wish fart? Oh Dev don’t be mean but also like Peri really isn’t saying much and just rolling along with these wishes. It’s odd seeing him just granting wishes even if they really won’t give Dev what he needs. We’ve seen Cosmo and Wanda try and redirect Timmy and Hazel with their wishes but Peri doesn’t seem to be doing that. Maybe he doesn’t see anything wrong with this wish but I don’t know it seems obvious he’s desperate for some sort of connection with others and wishing to look powerful won’t get him that.

Regardless as much as I adore you Dev your look really isn’t it. And no one questions the pony? Really? Not even Cosmo and Wanda? Also further ouch Hazel assumes he’s doing something malicious. The sins of the father are crushing Dev and it’s so messed up.

Dev cupcakes really? Dev you’re being so mean to Peri. And Peri clearly attitude isn’t getting you anywhere with him. Maybe we saw him try and nicely correct him and it not work I’m not sure. Maybe I know too much and am biased that’s a possibility. We as the audience know he has issues and needs love and affection and at this point Peri might not reasonably be able to know that and know how to help. It’s hard because we don’t know how long Peri has been Devs godparent so getting a read is hard.

How does Peri so quickly recognize his parents but his parents not recognize him? Also ouch. Poor Dev. He’s being mean but he doesn’t deserve to get tossed off of a horse like that.

I know I said the fourth wall breaks were fine before but seriously? Calling out an episode number by a character?

Wait so they haven’t spoken since they got back from their ten thousand year vacation that’s very confusing timeline wise? Yikes. What made them fall apart so much? It feels at least like falling apart at least cuz they had been close before and not telling your parents about becoming a godparent which seems like a huge milestone feels weird to me. Also yep Dev and Hazel haven’t spoken either. Just lots of ouches all around right off the bat.

Peri you aren’t supposed to tell your godkid about another kid with godkids that was a huge thing for the Remy and Timmy stuff? What are you doing Peri??

Peri peri that’s not. That’s not how horses work. Just. No anyone with half a brain cell would realize something is off here horses aren’t surrounded by sparkly magic. Hazel especially should know magic is involved but she’s more focused on him being “up” to something and that kills me. She’s now assuming the worst of Dev because his dad did shitty things and that just. Sucks and is a lot to throw on a very young kid.

Why is saying the spirits name freaking the kids out so much? Oh she’s definitely going to show up this episode. For sure.

MR. GUZMAN DONT SCARE THE KIDS BEFORE SENDING THEM TO BED THAT IS A RECIPE FOR DISASTER!

Dev no. Dev don’t. I get this is a desperate attempt to connect with other kids but this is a really really bad idea. Huh Peri mentions this would specifically scare his dad. I’m curious about that comment.

Oh Jasmine is going to find the staff is gone and flip out isn’t she? Yep she’s freaking out. Oh and Mr. Guzman is also freaking out. Wait the kid just. Called a taxi and left? Mr. Guzman don’t let a child go in a taxi ALONE!!!! That is a recipe for disaster. He is way too comfortable sending off kids in the city alone.

Peri was right love it. Don’t love the talking hebegebees just. I hate it actually yep. Wait how can they steal it from Dev? And Dev wished it back.

Wish energy force? Okay that is such a forced Star Wars Reference. For like two seconds I thought Hazel and Dev were back to back but no it’s just dark and a split screen. Kind of hilarious seeing them wish it back and fourth though. Okay wait Wanda hasn’t been around Peris magic in years? Thats…odd….

Dev. Let Peri talk. Dev please listen to him. Okay Peris idea is uh. Not great. At all but uh you’re taking this scare thing to far. DEV NO NO NO BAD IDEA ABORT ABORT ABORT!!!! DEV I KNOW YOURE HURTING BIG TIME BUT THIS IS A VERY VERY BAD IDEA.

How does Hazels dad know exactly what happened? I mean again he is right and he’s being blown off but HOW????

How is Mr. Guzman sleeping though this? Why is she an…animal thing? Wait? Hazel WHY ARE YOU DROPPING THE STAFF??? And why is Dev not questioning how Hazel has the staff???

Peri. Peri priorities. This seems like a bad idea. Don’t give the evil spirit the staff just don’t. Also Peri referencing his parents again wow. Peri is so unamused and Dev relying on the legends is a very very poor life choice I promise kiddo. I mean he’s right and it works but uh. She’s going to make you suffer isn’t she.

Wait Hazels dad is coming? To the museum? I have a feeling he’ll be involved in saving the day uh. Somehow.

Ohh yes Peri tell him!!! Oh Dev you do need friends you really really do. I know it doesn’t feel like it right now cuz you’re hurting big time from your fallout with Hazel but you do.

Oh poor Peri. That’s gotta hurt. I wonder why he was offered a job with the tooth fairy? Genuinely curious cuz I thought you had to study for what kind of fairy you would be? This is more of a lack of world building flaw from the OG show BUT I HAVE QUESTIONS?

DEV DEV DEV NO NO DEV YOURE BEING SO DUMB NO!!!! Dang it he did it. Oh Dev. Dev why. Just. Why? The spirits are going to attack everyone this is bad. Oh Dev you screwed up big time.

Wait really nothing? Nothing in Da Rules about that? Is that like. The one thing Timmy didn’t manage to do? Well uhh points I guess for Dev on that one? Oh kiddo. Oh Dev.

Priorities kids. Everyone desperately denying what is blatantly obvious I love it. And Cosmo you’re precious I love you so much. But wait why is Hazel assuming Dev is behind this? She is correct but what besides blatant bias is making her think so? Like Hazel you cannot just. Assume Dev is like his dad.

I mean yeah friends can have fights BUT YOU HAVE NOT TRIED TO REACH OUT AND HAVE BEEN ASSUMING THE WORST ALL EPISODE LONG?? I don’t blame Dev for thinking the friendship is over like. Girl. Some of us are not neurotypical enough for these games we need to be explicitly told like vampires okay? Also you know he hasn’t had friends this stuff is not something he’ll know how to navigate.

But also Dev kiddo. Buddy. THE WORLD YOU LIVE IN WILL END I THINK NOW ISNT THE TIME TO BE PETTY!

Dev stop being a sad puppy I’m trying to be mad at you BUT YOURE MAKING ME CRY. Just look at this sad smile child.

Damn it I can’t stay mad. I appreciate Hazel being willing to work it out but she really should have approached Dev sooner if she was willing to instead of ignoring him completely.

I love how like angry Peri and Wanda are while poor Cosmo looks scared. Good on Dev though for realizing they had to deal with the evil force before fixing the friendship. Guys don’t wait so long to grant said wish. Guys you’re lucky this is a kids show and she’s just waiting for you to grant said wish.

Well it worked at least. But oh Dev is still wearing his glasses he’s still closed off. Oh kiddo.

Wait Wanda seriously???? Wanda you’ve seen the shit Dale pulls on Dev do you have. No sympathy at all? Really?

Oh I forgot about Hazels dad. Poor guy he wanted to catch a ghost so badly. Wait we’re just ending here? We don’t see Hazel and Dev talking? I hope we eventually do but I have a feeling that’ll get yadda yaddad past again. Also I feel like she’ll be back at some point to cause more chaos.

Overall I enjoyed the episode and hope Dev and Hazels friendship really is on the mend again. I need their friendship so badly. Onto the next one!

[sleepynoons]

hi op feel free to ignore everything under - all you need to know is i love your writing *shakes head vigorously*

there are several things i think were immaculately done, but that'd require me to churn out an entire research paper, which i don't have the brain cells for anymore post-finals. so here are some scattered thoughts yep and yap

-

i don't gravitate towards mysterious or reserved characters because my personality simply doesn't mesh well with them. in fact, when i was watching wbk, i was always so wary of suo, and felt lowkey a lil uncomfortable with him LMFAO

but strangely enough, i think this discomfort became a very integral and driving force throughout my reading experience. of course, this was already the case due to the violent and dark nature of yakuzas, underground sex work, etc., but emphasizing suo's yandere-ness and how he doesn't shy away from it really completed the tone of the story. also, i feel like i came to terms with suo's character, which i rarely ever experience in general. really, this is all to say that it makes total logical sense in my brain to imagine a route where suo evolves into a yandere, and part of me strongly believes his real background in the wbk manga/anime won't be too happy-go-lucky either (otherwise the alternative would be like him wearing an eyepatch for the shtick bc he's a chuuni??? idrk????).

anyway, the reoccurring theme of redirection in suo's tactics really sealed the deal for me, and i think it was a good way to tie in references to his relationship to his master, the martial arts that we know he's especially good at, and how all of these things he's kinda exploited and sullied to "become a worse person for you." suo being very knowing and intentional is so snakey and creepy but also, i get a lil fucked up when it comes to men who are obsessed, so also incredibly erotic LMFAO i also just want someone to buy me a luxury penthouse out of concern for my safety *sad fist bump*

one thing i did find unexpected is suo's leadership within the yakuza. yes, necessary for the plot, otherwise he wouldn't be able to pull any strings. but because source material heavily emphasizes leaders as individuals like umemiya or sakura or even hiiragi, it's interesting to place suo in juxtaposition with them. not sure if it's bc i don't find suo particularly reliable in general, but i think this fic made me realize that he's still wise beyond his years and very, very ruthless. it's def very telling that, throughout the story, suo resorts to fear to assert power. anyway, i j think it was a particularly interesting detail to add in his role in the succession conflict.

btw, i do like how suo's change and transition isn't fully told or revealed. it's not a story meant for us, as it's a truth really for suo and reader. but even reader can't really keep up with him at times, and i find that dynamic really charming, as sadistic as that sounds. i like that reader is so vulnerable. i like that reader is not afraid to be vulnerable around him in the ways that matter, even when she's aware that he's fucking insane. and i really like that reader is aware of how much it takes to be vulnerable, so she doesn't push him. i think reader restrains herself (un)knowingly, and that's her way of loving him. obv less romantic in real life lol (don't try to fix anyone, been there, done that, lost myself, and still finding myself), but i do like how reader is suo's salvation :,,, even if she doesn't think she's particularly patient, she really is - like girl, Fuck Him Already!!!!!!

(could go on and on about how juicy the friction and tension is between suo and reader but that's for pt 2 hehehe)

this is kinda my half-assed transition into talking about reader, and honestly, my thoughts from earlier encapsulate the general thesis i have about her: she's really a lot like suo, way more than she thinks. i think she operates in very similar ways, just goes about it differently.

i think reader is way more reckless. she's very self-sacrificing. she's very good at putting up a front, even when she's internally low in confidence and self-respect. i think she just wants to be happy with suo, and hopefully, with their other friends as well.

and truly, i think suo has very similar end goals. i just think, with how things turned out, suo made the very calculated yet risky (also aggressive?) decision to do the things that he did. making their underlying principals and values and reactions so oddly similar, from my perspective, is sooooo neat, and it adds more depth to why they go so well together.

also, reader is so brilliantly the comedic relief in this whole thing. usually, in storytelling, it's someone else and is used as fodder. i really like how reader is a lil awkward and bad with timing and everything else, cause it makes the reading experience flow so much better. really helped with the pacing of the story, gave it the character + breathing space needed to process everything. i also just like my readers a little fucking hilarious.

anyway, op, so beautifully written - see you in pt 2 gg

TOKYO VICE | part 1

You knew that if you agreed to move in with Suo, you'd be setting yourself up for a life without autonomy. You also knew that these alarming behaviours were all signs that he desperately needed therapy to process his master’s untimely death. Living with a man in constant grief, who refused to talk about his trauma unless he was making up a lie related to the nation of China, was probably not a good decision. Doubly so when this man was clearly paranoid about losing you, and triply so when he was a high-ranking member of a violent syndicate. Unfortunately for you, you rarely made good decisions. (Or: After joining the yakuza, Suo develops the concerning habit of controlling every facet of your life. This is somehow less worrying to you than your uncontrollable lust around him.)

8.7k words. suo x fem reader. deeply unserious yakuza au. yandere suo (not abusive and reader is into it), dark comedy, a little angst, smut. warnings: borderline sex work, off-screen criminal violence. nsft – no actual smut in this chapter, but there are still graphic discussions of sex. mdni. thank you to @sleepyqinfei for beta reading and to @/cafekitsune for the banner!

sequel to sincerity and this sakura/reader wip

part 2 here

You’re not exactly sure why you and Suo have never fucked.

It’s certainly strange, given that you're pretty sure that Suo has expressed at least passing interest in you over the years, and you have felt a lot of interest in him. (By ‘interest’, you mean that you feel an insatiable lust around him that you fight to ignore on a daily basis.) You can't exactly pinpoint why nothing has ever happened despite this mutual attraction, especially given your profession and indifferent feelings toward casual sex.

You can think of a number of probable reasons, which are separate from those you classify as stupid reasons. The latter class comprises silly concerns like a fear of rejection, fear of abandonment, fear of not being pretty enough, fear of not being good enough, et cetera. All very juvenile feelings—insecurities that you had in your teenage years, the days in which Suo ran around Makochi as a delinquent while you worked an honest job at a bar. (It was a girls’ bar in the red light district, but that's neither here nor there.) Your circumstances have since changed, and those anxieties have since faded. None of them have any material consequence for your current life, so you don't see any point in thinking about them.

The stupid reasons, then, definitely don't have anything to do with why you've never fucked Suo. But you can think of a few, more concrete reasons that may explain it. For one, Suo has been your friend since childhood and it’s generally a bad idea to have sex with your long-time friends. He was also your roommate for a while and it’s an even messier idea to have sex with your roommates. And now, in your adulthood, he’s your landlord in addition to being your boss, which makes him the worst possible person you could have sex with. You could lose both your home and your livelihood if things go south—both severe, material consequences that should theoretically keep your lust at bay.

Also, he's also a member of the yakuza.

Now, strictly speaking—you're not really opposed to having sex with violent criminals. It’s definitely not a good idea, but you don't usually have good ideas anyway. But for the past several years, you’ve been pissed at Suo for joining the yakuza in the first place, which actually does keep your blatant attraction to him in check. You simply dry up when you think too hard about all the feelings of betrayal.

When Suo was on the cusp of graduating from Furin and thinking about his future, you’d grabbed him by the collar and made him promise not to join the yakuza. They constantly tried to recruit from Bofurin, and they especially wanted Sakura, Suo, and Sugishita. You were adamant about chasing them off from Suo and Sakura whenever they approached—you had no need to worry about Sugishita, as Umemiya had already said he shouldn't talk to them, so there was no chance he was going to—and you begged Suo over and over not to join. Delinquency was fine, but a crime syndicate was something else altogether.

Suo seemed serious about it when he said he'd listen to you. He even applied to colleges, talked about maybe becoming a teacher and eventually supporting you so you could stop working in the mizu shobai industry. Back then, he often teased you by saying that you should marry him and be his housewife (or he could be your trophy husband, if you so wished). You thought he was joking, but with the way he always talked about his life after his degree, you wondered if he would seriously suggest it.

Of course, it was most likely just teasing, and you were fine with that. You were simply excited that he'd found a career that would make him happy. Nirei had also been accepted to university at that point, and even Sakura had an honest job lined up on Keisei Street. The future had looked bright for everyone.

Then Suo’s master died, and he lost his fucking mind.

The two of you buried Suo’s master in a Chinese funeral. He had never had children of his own, having satisfied his paternal instincts by picking up strays, and he didn't have much in the way of family in Japan either, so you and Suo performed the shou ling yourselves. One person kept a constant vigil over his body while the other searched on Google for what arrangements should be made next. After all, while Suo’s master had immersed his foremost disciple in his culture, he had never taught Suo any funerary customs. He hadn't thought there would be a need.

Suo didn't cry nearly as much as you, but he was probably in more pain. Your master had trained you a little bit when you were a kid, and he'd taken you in for a while after your parents kicked you out, so of course you were gutted. But he had practically raised Suo, so it was naturally worse for him. More shattering.

You often think about the first night you decided you'd sleep with him in the same futon because he was crying so much. He insisted he was fine, but he didn't complain when you got under the sheets with him and started thumbing away his tears. When you took off his eyepatch, you found, to your astonishment, that he was crying from his missing eye as well. Both of you thought the tear ducts had been destroyed in either the accident or the enucleation, but it appeared that not even that prior trauma could mask his grief over this one.

Nevertheless, by the time of the funeral procession, Suo had stopped crying.

“Master supported us and taught us to stand on our own two feet,” he said as the joss paper burned. He took your hand in his and smiled. “So it'll be fine. We’ll be okay on our own. I'll make sure of it.”

At the time, you had found this very comforting. You didn’t think too much of it, as you had a bad habit of relying on Suo for your emotional stability. His master had raised him to be an emotionally intelligent person, so it had been fine, even though you had a track record of reckless decisions. He’d still exercised endless patience with you. He never once got angry with you, nor did he ever force you to do what he felt was the right thing. Instead, he gently redirected your self-damaging behaviours—not so different from the martial art that he practised.

He disapproved of the run-down and lonely conditions of your apartment, so he spent a great deal of time there and helped make it into a proper home. He didn't like how dangerous your job at the girls’ bar was, so he walked you to and from work every night until you never left without him. He worried when you started having sex with your customers, especially when you began having nervous breakdowns over it (you were, after all, still a teenager and really only interested in having romantic vanilla sex with Suo), so he staged an intervention with Nirei and Sakura. In this way, Suo convinced you that you were loved and protected and didn't need to do something you hated so much. They would get you out if you felt trapped. And you didn't feel trapped, per se, so you left on your own—but it was still only because of them. You promised them afterwards that you'd never do it again.

This was Suo’s brand of kindness as a teenager. He always taught people, guided them away from harm rather than steering them—a behaviour he’d mimicked from your master. Your master, in general, had defined all of Suo’s values and his way of living, which was honest and gentle and conscientious. It was one where he used his abilities to protect the weak and care for his friends. He even kept his spiteful and alarmingly violent tendencies under control, though sometimes he slipped when fighting genuine assholes. But he still tried. He tried because he strived to be as kind as his master—who represented everything that Suo wanted to be in his adult life.

Thus, the death of Suo’s master meant the death of his principles. It changed the kind of man that Suo wanted to be. You don't want to say that he became a worse person, but he absolutely became a worse person.

He especially became a worse person with you.

As it turned out, Suo’s idea of making sure that the two of you would be fine on your own was, well, not really fine. It wasn’t that he became cruel to you, per se. It was more that whenever he saw a problem with your behaviour, his approaches to redirecting it became—put as nicely as possible—heavy-handed.

After your master’s death, you got a job at a high end, yakuza-owned club. Two weeks later, Suo broke his promise to you and joined the yakuza. So I can stay close to you, he explained gently, wiping away your tears as you cried hysterically, but you're convinced to this day that he did it partly out of spite. So a few years later, when you started having sex with your customers again and he tried to stop you, you decided to spite him back. I need to stay on top of the rankings, you'd explained dispassionately. The mamasan said it's fine, and the manager doesn't care. He even thinks it's good for business.

Suo’s response was to simply become the owner of your club.

This move was very extreme, but also very effective. Any customer who so much as brushed against you on the premises was instantly thrown out, and the mamasan started watching you like a hawk to make sure you weren’t going to any love hotels after work. Douhan were off-limits. For the first time since your teens, you became completely celibate—not only because of your new workplace circumstances, but because you simply didn't want to find out what Suo would do if you got together with a man he despised (and he despised every man you dated).

His most absurd play was when he became concerned about your living conditions again. Your latest apartment was too plain, too small, and the area was too dangerous. It didn't even have a shower, and the other tenants behaved concerningly toward you when you went to the bathhouse at night. But the rent was cheap, and it was still an upgrade from your last place, so you shrugged it off when Suo suggested that you move. Even when someone tried to accost you at night, you were nonchalant about it. You kicked the shit out of them in a fight and continued your routine unbothered.

The next month, Suo bought a luxury penthouse and suggested you move in with him.

His offer (command) came with conditions. One of the bigger ones was that you'd let him accompany you out at night if you ever needed to run errands in dangerous places. Or—nevermind, actually. He should really just accompany you everywhere at night. Maybe during the day too. And—ah, there was no way you'd be going to work alone, nor coming back by yourself—you were now always to be driven by someone in his organisation, if he wasn't available himself. Rent was a point of contention, when you asked about it: you wanted to pay at market rate, and he insisted that there was no need to pay at all. He ended up proposing a highly discounted price, which would give you ample financial freedom, but questionable financial independence.

These were insane terms. You knew that if you agreed, you'd be setting yourself up for a life without autonomy. You also knew that these behaviours were all signs that Suo desperately needed therapy to process his master’s untimely death. Living with a man in constant grief, who refused to talk about his trauma unless he was making up a lie related to the nation of China, was probably not a good idea. Doubly so when this man was clearly paranoid about losing you, and triply so when he was a high-ranking member of a violent syndicate. Case in point—he was likely connected to the brutal accident that later befell the man who tried to assault you.

“I'm not sure what you're implying, but at least he didn't die,” Suo said cheerfully when you confronted him about it. Which really meant: At least I decided not to kill him. This was a flag bigger and redder than any other you've ever known, and you consider yourself an expert in red flags. You knew you should run in the other direction.

So naturally, you put your arms around him, tenderly said, I'm sorry I've been worrying you, and then you moved in the next day.

While Suo treats you with endless patience, you have personal limits to the patience that you exercise with him. Specifically, your patience with how he treats you.

You don't mind the lack of social freedom, nor the lack of personal freedom, nor the lack of freedom of movement. You also don't mind living with a man full of intractable trauma surrounding the death of every parental figure in his life; in fact, you'd rather be by his side than not, if he needs to cope with something so painful. And anyway, your friendship is otherwise unchanged if you ignore the heavy restrictions he's imposed on every facet of your life. So that's all fine.

But the celibate lifestyle that he's cornered you into? You simply aren't built for it. Holy shit, do you need to get laid.

Nearly two years without sex has brought you close to another nervous breakdown (there have been few better sources of entertainment or validation in your life), and worst of all, it has made your profound lust for Suo incredibly hard to ignore. Waking up every morning to him in a towel, his hair still wet from the shower and his broad silhouette exposed, tests the absolute limits of your self-control. The contours of his lean and muscled form are distracting enough; coupled with the vivid colours and lines of his irezumi, the sight of him becomes maddening. It is a horrible thing to be exposed to when you haven't gotten any dick nor strap in over a year. It gives you thoughts about him that are overtly sexual, which is bad, as you have materially consequential reasons for not wanting to fuck Suo.

Things with him must absolutely stay platonic. But with sexual frustration like yours, being platonic with him means that you need to get erotic with someone else. A boyfriend or girlfriend is out of the question; you don't want to be responsible for yet another brutal accident. So you instead decide to quit your job at his club and start working on Keisei Street. At least this way, you can start fucking your customers again.

It’s a perfect plan. Suo’s oyabun is very indulgent toward him, and everyone else in the family respects him too. He consequently has a tight grip on his organisation and the territory they control, despite his relatively young age. Not a single person is ever to touch Keisei Street—largely because Sakura is part of Roppo-Ichiza, and Suo is nearly as weird about Sakura as he is about you. Plus, many of his other fellow Furin alumni are in the gang as well. If Suo’s men ever started fucking with people on Keisei Street, it would not only have grave implications for gang relations—it would be personally upsetting for Suo. This means you can fuck all the Keisei Street customers you want, and not get a single one of them threatened or killed.

A pretty brilliant idea, if you do say so yourself.

Suo’s expression doesn't change when you break the news to him. He delicately places his teacup—custom-made from Yixing, just like the matching clay teapot—down on the mahogany tabletop, and he looks at you with a calm smile.

“Come again?”

“I'm quitting my job at Red Dragon,” you repeat. “I already gave the mamasan my resignation.”

“And she accepted it?” Suo asks, in a tone that is so carefully nonchalant that you know it means he is actually furious with her. “How interesting,” he muses. “What brought this on?”

“I've found a better paying opportunity on Keisei Street.”

“I'll give you a raise,” he says easily.

“A raise?” You cock a brow. “The pay is mostly commission-based at Red Dragon. You know that.”

“Then it would be unwise to leave. You have a loyal customer base at Red Dragon. All very rich, and”—his smile grows sharp—“very polite.”

Polite. An interesting word. It actually means: None of them will ever proposition or harass you because they know they'll be maimed if they do. An easy thought to use to your advantage.

“It's loyal but it's small. Everyone who's anyone in this part of town thinks that we’re married. Do you know how hard it is to pull new customers in when they're scared shitless of my yakuza husband? And anyway”—you frown, trying to look as pathetic as possible—“I'm lonely.”

Suo stares. He looks surprised, possibly because you absorb every minute of his free time with silly conversation, new restaurants, and skiing trips. (He likes snow, so you ask for these trips more for him to relax than anything else.) You also text him frequently on days he's working, and he very diligently replies, even if he's in the middle of something like a raid or a hit or brokering a massive deal. Suo still very strictly keeps to his rule of never touching his phone when in conversation with other people—unless he needs to text you.

So his suspicion is fair. Suo is very attentive and doesn't allow you much opportunity for loneliness. In turn, you’ve always been very happy spending time with him, even when it's only him.

“Lonely?” he repeats. “Are you, now?”

“Yes. You work so much,” you complain, which is not a lie, “and I don't have any friends to spend time with when you're gone.”

“You have friends from work.”

“No, I have competition at work. The hostesses are so cutthroat about rankings, they hate me. And each other.”

“You like Shuuhei and Hanzo,” he points out, referring to his men who most frequently chauffeur you.

“Yeah, they're friendly, and they're very funny. I like them, but I can't be their friend.” Suo stares at you, nonplussed, so you spell it out: “They're too scared of you to get close to me. What if it looks like they're trying to fuck the boss’ wife?”

“Hm…” Suo studies you, looking thoughtful. Perhaps for the first time, he's contemplating the consequences of restricting your freedoms and marking you as his. That is to say—maybe he's finally realising that you have no friends and no life.

The beads of his earrings glimmer as he tilts his head at you and frowns. Suo almost looks innocent with that confused face of his. “And how would working on Keisei Street help?” he asks.

“Because all our old friends are there!” you exclaim. “Sakura’s in Roppo-Ichiza now so he’ll definitely be coming by all the clubs. Tsubaki too. And Nirei and Kiryu visit them quite often—and even Tsugeura does sometimes, even though clubbing isn't one of his virtues.” You grab onto his arm, pull yourself close, and give him your most disarming, pleading expression. “Please, Suo?”

“Hm.” He strokes your cheek and looks at you fondly, in the way that one would do with an adorable and slightly annoying kitten. “I don’t think so. It’s not very safe there.”

He isn't wrong. Not only are you untouchable on his turf because of your association to him, Suo has also just crushed all the han-gure and petty criminals in his territory with brutal efficiency. His part of the red light district is, quite ironically, one of the safest places in the city, and certainly safer than Keisei Street.

But undeterred, you point out, “Shuuhei and Hanzo can still drive me there and back if you want. But I don't think it's necessary. Do you really think Sakura would let anything happen to me?”

This is the true brilliance of your plan: capitalising on the fact that Suo is as nearly as weird about Sakura as he is about you. He pauses as soon as you bring up the point, and you can practically see the gears turning. “Well, if it's him…”

“I even texted him about it. Look—here!” You whip out your phone, receipts ready. The corner of Suo's mouth lifts at your obviously rehearsed pitch. “He says he'd make sure I'm taken care of. And he says it'd be nice because he misses seeing us. Can you believe it—Sakura actually admitted that he misses us! Typed it with his own two hands and pressed send! I bet he was super embarrassed about it.”

“Huh. He even used a sticker. I've never seen him do that.” Suo smiles as he reads through the chat. He looks like his old self. You suddenly feel a little wistful, and also a lot bad. This started as a ploy to get laid, but it’s made you realise that you really do miss your friends—and Suo probably does too.

“If I worked on Keisei Street, then you would have plenty of reason to visit,” you point out, feeling somewhat tender.

“I guess that's true,” Suo says. Your heart aches a little bit at the look he gives you. It's a platonic ache, of course. Or at the very least, it isn't an erotic one. It doesn't really make you want to have sex with him anyway. But if you could lean forward and press your lips to his—platonically—then you definitely would.

Suo's civilian friendships are complicated by his double life. Quite unusually for yakuza, Suo’s syndicate insists on using pseudonyms and false histories to avoid anti-yakuza laws, on the off-chance that the police decide to do their jobs and actually enforce those laws someday. Lying for comedy is one of Suo’s greatest passions, so he was happy to manufacture an absurd backstory: his name is Yanzhao, and he learned kung fu in a Shaolin Temple before moving to Hong Kong and working for the triads. He wears the eyepatch because he lost his eye in an altercation with the cops, which he won. By the way, you're his criminally beautiful wife who he met in Macau. The two of you had to leave for Japan since he killed a police officer and now he's wanted by the governments of both China and Hong Kong. Also, he's a very devoted husband, so if anyone lays a hand on you, he’ll kill them too.

Somehow, everyone has bought into this story. Every criminal organisation in the red light district now fears a high-ranking yakuza known as Yanzhao, who is easily recognizable by his eyepatch and tassel earrings, and who is also homicidally obsessed with his beautiful wife.

In some ways, his infamy is convenient. No one wants to fuck with Suo, or with you by extension. But it also poses some issues: Suo has to keep a low profile in areas controlled by rival organisations, or else he might be ambushed. It also means he cannot easily go out and see his old friends. Even though he always masquerades as a civvie when he does, wearing stud earrings and a glass eye, it's still a little risky—especially since he likes to visit the strongest member of Roppo-Ichiza. While Roppo-Ichiza aren’t yakuza, they're still han-gure, so some of its more criminally entangled members might recognize him anyway.

But Sakura himself, bless him, has not put two and two together and figured out that Suo Hayato and Gui Yanzhao are the same person. This is partly because Suo lies very convincingly about his fictional career in the tea industry, but you think it's also because Sakura is so gullible it's endearing.

I use the glass eye now because it's better for networking, Suo had explained before Sakura could interrogate him too much, his voice too smooth and too quick for the other man to get in a word edgewise. My business partners find the eyepatch too silly. The tassel earrings too. By the way, would you like some Baimudan tea? I thought of you when I smelled it—I know you like fragrant things—so I picked some up for you on my last visit to China. I was there for business a couple of weeks ago.

He, of course, neglected to mention that said business involved meeting with the 14K triad.

Despite the enormity of Suo's omission (lie), Sakura is none the wiser whenever he meets with you. He thinks you're just a regular hostess who has freedom of movement and various other human rights, and that Suo’s just a regular guy who isn’t homicidally obsessed with you (a detail of Suo's fabricated life story that is unfortunately grounded in reality). All this to say, Sakura doesn't think twice about mentioning the fact that you have a routine of going to love hotels after work.

Suo, as always, remains calm in the face of unsettling information. He sets down his tea (just tea, without shochu), and politely says, “Pardon?” He's once again using the nonchalant kind of tone that suggests mortal danger.

“She's always going to love hotels after her shifts.” Sakura is frowning at you, pink but scowling. “I thought you said you were done with that stuff. You promised us you wouldn't do it anymore. Suo—are you really okay with this?”

On the one hand, you find it exceptionally sweet that Sakura, after all this time, remembers your promise and wishes to hold you to it. He was so worried about you when you started having those nervous breakdowns as a teenager, and he probably still is. On the other hand, you're shitting bricks at the fact that Suo is now aware of your activities. Because sure, he likely won't fuck with Keisei Street—but you realise, as he stares at you, that you can't be certain of this. After all, your fake yakuza husband has very real homicidal urges.

“Um,” you say. “It's just business.”

“Business,” Suo repeats.

“You don't have to do that stuff to keep good business,” Sakura grouses, unaware of Suo’s carefully suppressed rage. “You're real popular already.”

“Are you?” Suo asks, looking right at you.

“I mean—I told you the pay would be better, right?” you reply, voice oddly high and nervous, and this is when Sakura notices that something is wrong.

“Oh,” Sakura says, looking between the two of you. “Suo, you didn't know?”

“I didn't,” he says. “Actually, she told me specifically that she wasn't going to do that if she worked here.” He turns to you, still smiling. “That's the only reason why I allowed this at all, remember?”

A chill travels down your spine. You did, in fact, commit to a perpetually sexless lifestyle in order to be granted some semblance of freedom: Of course I won't sleep with any customers, you'd said. You know I don't really like doing that anyway. I promise I'll behave! I’ll be out of the clubs and right back home. Sakura said he’d make sure I’ll get to a cab safely after the bar closes and everything!

“Um,” you say again, but this time you have no follow-up.

“Wait,” Sakura demands, “what do you mean by ‘allowed her’? What, do you need to give her permission to work now or something?”

Suo smiles disarmingly at Sakura. Without missing a beat, he says, “Generally no. But we’re dating now, which complicates what she’s allowed to do with other men at her job.”

Sakura spits out his drink. You choke on your spit.

“I… um?!” Sakura’s staring at you, so you quickly recover. This is a mortifying lie, but it's better than Sakura finding out just how batshit Suo has become since his school days. “I thought we were going to keep that a secret, dear?”

“Ah, you're right. Sorry, I got too excited.” Suo gives you an endeared look before turning to Sakura. “We were going to keep it to ourselves unless we got serious about it. But we've been talking about marriage lately, so I thought it was fine to mention.”

“...”

You’re going to have an aneurysm. Why does every cover that Suo comes up with involve a marital relationship between the two of you?!

“Oh… holy shit.” Sakura’s expression is complicated—somehow, more complicated than yours, even though you’re the one getting cornered into a fake engagement. It's unbelievable how shy he still is about this kind of thing. Maybe it’s just particularly embarrassing since he's known you two for so long, you reason. Regardless, he remembers his social cues enough to say, “Congrats, guys. That's great. That's really great.”

Suo gazes fondly at you across the table. “We were thinking you could be our best man,” he adds, and you consider violently kicking his leg.

“O-oh. Uh, yeah! Sure! But what about Nirei?”

“Rather than having a maid of honour,” you say reflexively, used to lying through your teeth for Suo, “we’d like him to be our best man as well.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” Thrown off guard, Sakura completely forgets about the love hotel business. He whips out his phone. “When were you thinking of having your wedding? I'll put it in my calendar.”

“I’m not sure.” Suo turns to you. “What were we thinking again, dear?”

You're going to die. You're going to die and it's a good thing because if you survive this embarrassment, your future will be bleak. As soon as Nirei finds out about this, he’ll want to start helping you with wedding planning, and then it would just be too awkward to cancel things. You’ll have to enter a fake marriage with Suo, which will be completely sexless, because even with a vow of everlasting love, there are still too many concrete and materially consequential reasons for not sleeping with him.

Condemning yourself to a lifetime of sexual frustration, you reply, “I think we were talking about a summer wedding.”

The drive home is awkward.

Hanzo and Shuuhei pick the two of you up. Suo mentioned that he wanted to talk to you and you alone, so they bring the Rolls Royce with the privacy suite. The two of them are entirely cut off from you thanks to the soundproofing, which traps you with Suo, who’s drinking a bottle of oolong tea as the two of you sit in complete silence. You think he's waiting for you to squirm—which you do.

You stay like that for five, agonising minutes before Suo finally says, “So you're sleeping with your customers.”

You swallow. “Yes.”

“For business?”

“Yes.”

“How much do you make?”

You blink. “Huh?”

“How much do you get paid for a single night of work, including gifts that your customers give you in exchange for sleeping with them?”

You're halfway through citing your earnings when you realise where he's going with this.

“So you make less than you did at Red Dragon,” Suo concludes, “and you're very smart with your money, so I know you know that, and you probably went into this knowing that you'd end up at a net loss.” He turns to you, gives you a look so sharp that it almost scares you. All made worse by his civilian disguise, which makes him feel unfamiliar. His glass eye shines strangely in the light, and his scar tissue is hidden by the makeup you helped apply. You wish he'd taken it all off before having this conversation.

“So,” he says, “what’s the real reason you changed jobs?”

Already knowing that he’ll figure you out sooner or later, you admit, “I just wanted to start having sex again.”

Suo blinks. “You… what?”

“I wanted to have sex with people,” you repeat. “I hadn't been touched for nearly two years, okay? I needed to get laid or else I'd go insane.” You cross your arms and look away, suddenly feeling petulant. “I'm sure you've noticed that our arrangement makes it impossible for me to see people.”

He doesn't answer, because of course he's noticed. He’d designed his house rules with precisely this intent. If he accompanies you everywhere you go, then you can't exactly go on dates, and you definitely can't meet people for sex. Not unless you feel like having Suo watch as some anonymous guy fucks you, and you don't. As hot as the idea is, it’s definitely not platonic behaviour, and it would probably trigger the whole homicidal obsession thing.

“Do you like it?” Suo asks, startling you. You look at him, confused.

“What?”

“Do you enjoy having sex with your customers?” he asks. His voice and gaze are even. Unrelenting. “Does it make you happy?”

You stare at him, a deer caught in headlights. You didn't expect Suo to actually care about whether you enjoyed it or not, and you didn't really expect to care yourself either. But truthfully, you hated it. You simply weren't feeling it with most of your customers and avoided intercourse with all but one. Then in that one case you let someone earnestly fuck you, it was a complete letdown. Possibly the worst sex you'd ever had. You spent the whole time watching the clock, wondering how long it would take, and it turned out that your hookup had remarkable stamina but absolutely no technique. To pass the time, and in an attempt to feel something, you tried to imagine it was someone else who was inside you. You cycled through a whole list of people, including all of your exes, a few of your past customers, every single member of BTS, and then—finally, inevitably—your long-time friend, roommate, and landlord.

To your complete horror, when you imagined that it was Suo who had you folded in half, his cock so deep inside you that you could feel it in your throat, you came so hard that you drenched the sheets.

You lay there afterward as your customer showered, alone in the bed. Normally you'd be getting dressed at that point, but you were too distracted. You kept thinking about what it would feel like to be held by Suo after having your guts rearranged by him—embraced tenderly like you know he would do with you, kissing him platonically like you've always wanted to do with him—and you realised that you didn’t actually want to have sex with anyone else. Despite all your life experience, sexual experience, and job experience—in that moment, you felt like a lonely nineteen year old girl who wanted nothing more than to have romantic, vanilla sex with her best friend, but who was instead having impersonal, disappointing sex with various salarymen.

This was a feeling so disgusting that you’ve decided to never tell anyone at any cost.

“Yeah, it's fine. I guess I like it.” You pretend to study your nails. “Sometimes I cum, which is all I really want.”

Suo keeps staring at you. “That’s it?” he asks, voice measured and careful. You raise a brow, playing dumb.

“What do you mean?”

“That's all you want? Just to get off?”

You gaze out the window, trying not to look at his lips.

“Yes, that's all.”

No matter how batshit Suo gets, he always maintains a certain kindness and maturity in how he handles conflict with you. It's a lesson that he learned from his master, which has perhaps been distorted over time, but remains important to him nevertheless.

If you do something upsetting, Suo is never forceful about getting you to act differently. Sure, he has fucked up ways of either getting you to behave or making you understand the consequences of your actions, and perhaps he has his manipulative moments. It was probably not a good thing that he coaxed you into indefinite house arrest, for instance. But he never threatens you, and he never hits you, and he never disrespects you. In fact, more than anything, he makes it a point to never let you feel like you aren't loved.

So when Suo abandons you after that conversation in the Rolls Royce, you lose your fucking mind.

Suo doesn’t come home in the days following that evening, without any note nor explanation. For the first time in years, he stops replying to your texts. Your immediate thought is that he's been gravely injured or perhaps even killed, which sends you into a panicked spiral. But every one of his men who's come by to check on you has implied otherwise—but I'm not allowed to tell you anything else, anesan, I’m sorry, they all say. And when you realise that Suo is actually fine and he's just playing a fucked up mind game with you, one that makes you feel distinctly unloved, you feel simultaneously heartbroken and apoplectic. The man is not allowed to corner you into de facto imprisonment and then just fucking leave. In fact, if he tries, you might imprison him.

You spend a few days sitting at home and crying over this, as well as torturing yourself by thinking about useless things (fear of rejection, fear of abandonment, et cetera). But eventually, you get tired of wallowing in self-inflicted misery, and you decide to just track your fake husband down. His men have been adamant about not letting you out of their sight—presumably so you don’t fuck any more of your customers, because Suo can be spiteful like that—so you have to be strategic about your plan to find him.

You decide to do it during work. You tap out in the middle of a shift, feigning illness, so nobody bats an eye when you put on the most shapeless hoodie you own and throw on a face mask. Your chauffeurs (handlers) don't notice as you sneak off—and for the first time in years, you walk through the red light district all alone.

It feels strange not to be protected, and even stranger not to be surveilled. You marvel at the unfamiliar experience of complete freedom, and at the possibility of being able to run off and disappear if you so wished. But you don't, of course. Not only do you care too deeply for Suo to abandon him, you're also pretty sure he has your driver’s licence and ID card locked up somewhere. At least you haven't been able to find them, and Suo was oddly evasive about it when you asked. (I haven't seen them, he'd said, but I don't think you’d need either of those things immediately, anyway, do you? And you nodded in response, because it was true that you liked being his passenger princess too much to care about your licence.)

So rather than bolting for the subway, you head straight to your old workplace. The gleaming doors of Red Dragon welcome you as you cross its threshold, and you're greeted immediately by the scent of luxury colognes and expensive cigars—both evoking a strange nostalgia in you. Even the click of your heels against the marble floor feels familiar. You realise that you've missed the place despite its cutthroat culture and its owner’s authoritarian control over you, which you suppose isn't surprising. This club was more or less your home for years and, thanks to said owner, was the safest place you've ever worked.

And being that you feel you've returned to your very safe home, you don't expect it when you're abruptly stopped by the bouncer.

“Can I help you?” he asks, his arm in your way. You don't recognize him, but you see the edges of his irezumi peeking out from the rolled-up cuffs of his shirt.

“Yeah, actually,” you say. “I'm looking for Gui Yanzhao. Is he here right now?”

The bouncer—or chinpira, you guess—bristles.

“You're looking for who?”

“Yanzhao?” you say impatiently. “Eyepatch, tassel earrings? Owner of the club? Probably your boss?”

The bouncer steps forward and reaches for something in his pocket, which makes you suddenly nervous, and also makes you realise that in a hoodie and a face mask, you ordinarily wouldn't be allowed in this club, let alone into the room of its yakuza owner. You're so used to VIP treatment here that you simply forgot.

You take a step back. “Um. I think there's been a misunderstanding.” You lower your face mask, which doesn't help as you've never met this man, and he must be new. You’ll need to complain to Suo about his onboarding process later, if you aren't killed before you can find him.

It turns out that this yakuza rookie has a knife in his pocket, which is not the worst thing he could have been carrying, but is also not the best. You're getting ready to run in the other direction when a more senior member of the gang comes by. He gives you a startled look, which then turns alarmed when he sees his younger brother’s knife.

“Anesan!” he yells hurriedly, and he snatches the chinpira’s knife straight from his hand. His lunge for the weapon turns into a hurried bow. He pulls his colleague—whose face has turned very white in a very short amount of time—into an even deeper one. They look on the verge of prostrating.

“Oh, Yamashita. Hi! Is this guy new?”

“Yes! My sincerest apologies for my younger brother’s idiocy, and his insolence in raising a weapon at you.” There's a sheen of sweat on the back of his neck. “If you would like him to atone, then he would be more than happy to—”

“No, that's fine. I'd really like him to keep all his fingers.” If you have to see a rookie cut off his pinkie today, you think you might actually change your mind on running away. Fuck your documents—Suo can keep them. Surely life without proof of identity can't be that hard. “By the way,” you say, trying to change the topic before Yamashita can suggest alternative acts of atonement, “have you seen my husband?”

Yamashita hesitates at your question, looks conflicted. You feel a little bad for him, and for every other gang member who needs to worry about accidentally offending Suo. You watch him sweat for a full ten seconds before he says, “You can follow me. But anesan, you might find it unpleasant upstairs. I can find someone to drive you home instead, if you'd like.”

You give him a funny look. This was your workplace for a very long time—you can’t think of many things that would happen here that might seriously upset you. “What, is he cheating on me?” you guess.

“What? No! Aniki would never!” Yamashita seems genuinely shocked at the suggestion. “He's crazy about you!”

“Then I'm sure he’ll be happy to see me,” you say, although given that he's ignored your texts for four days straight, you aren't so sure. Regardless, this seems to be good enough reasoning for Yamashita, and you’re taken to the top floor of Red Dragon. You ponder the whole time, on the elevator ride up, just what exactly Suo’s been up to that's made Yamashita this nervous about letting you see him.

Then the door opens, and you’re given your answer in the form of several body bags—all cleanly zipped up and conscientiously laid out in front of the elevators in a single, neat row. A sight that is significantly worse than a rookie cutting off his pinkie finger.

“Oh,” you say faintly. You try not to throw up. “So this is why he hasn't been home.”

“Exactly!” Yamashita replies, beaming. “See, anesan, I told you. He'd never cheat on you!”

Suo is in the lounge of the top floor, which has been cleared of both civilians and corpses for the night. He's sitting on one of the couches, leaning back with his one eye closed, as if asleep. The golden tassels of his earrings are draped over the expensive leather of his seat, intertwined with his dark hair. A cup of tea sits in front of him, steaming. Even this far away, you recognize it by the scent alone: jasmine, probably from Longjing. One of the most expensive blends he has, and that which he saves for days he’s stressed, though he never admits it when he is.

The sight of him would almost look tranquil, except for all the blood on his knuckles and his cuffs.

Off to the side, two of his younger brothers are chatting away. One is pouring cups of some doubtlessly expensive liquor, and the other is smoking a cigar. There's karaage on the table too. You recognize all of this as part of a ritual that some of the guys like to do after a hit or a shootout, not dissimilar to getting ramen or McDonald’s after going to a club.

You catch a bit of their conversation as you approach. One of them holds up the liquor bottle (Isojiman sake, you now recognise from your girls’ bar days, one of the rarer bottles costing around nine million yen) and asks Suo if he wants to join. “No thanks,” he says predictably, “I'm on a diet.” Then he turns and looks right at you—startling you, because you had thought you were being fairly quiet—and gives you a smile so genuine that it reminds you of his Furin days. “Would my beautiful wife like to drink for me, though?”

“No thanks,” you reply, “but your beautiful wife would like to talk to you.”

The two guys clear out to give you some privacy. You’re left alone with Suo, feeling awkward after several days of resenting him for no reason. (You’d rather die than go to therapy, but the whole fear of abandonment thing is probably something you should start addressing.) You don't even know where you want to sit. Eventually, you settle for placing yourself next to him, which is a decision that Suo quickly overturns by pulling you into his lap.

A flutter erupts in your stomach as he settles you on top of him. This physiological reaction is absurd, as not even ten minutes ago, you were trying not to throw up at the line of corpses in front of the elevator. It should also scare you somewhat that Suo’s hands—delicately adjusting your body—are still covered in blood. But truthfully, you can't help but be happy when he makes you feel so loved.

You take one of the napkins on the table and start wiping at his knuckles. Tenderly, in case they're bruised or skinned.

“You didn't call or come home,” you start.

“I thought it would be too dangerous.”

You frown, thinking of all the bodies outside. “Was this a rival organisation?”

“No. They were ours.” He sighs. “A succession conflict. There are a few people who don't like how I'll run things if I take over.”

You nod. Suo is very old-fashioned in his ideals about the yakuza, which you think is an imprint of his master’s influence, and something that appeals to his current ‘father’. He values chivalry. He likes protecting the weak. His filial devotion to his deceased master has now extended to every member of his yakuza family, especially his oyassan. He’s almost certainly the top candidate for taking over after the oyabun dies, but being that part of his old-fashioned principles excludes lucrative projects such as sex trafficking, you suppose it’s natural that some people in his organisation would prefer him dead rather than in charge.

“You’ve never ghosted me during violent conflicts before though,” you say. “I was worried that something happened to you. Or that you were upset with me.”

Suo’s hand drops to your waist, pulling you a little closer.

“They knew where we live. They tried to get to you, you know.” Your eyes widen in alarm, so he cups your face with a palm. His thumb glides along your cheek, and your response is almost Pavlovian: your heart rate immediately slows at the comfort of his touch. “It’s fine. They won't bother you ever again.” The cheerful smile returns. “And if anyone else ever does, I'll handle them too.”

Your heart swells. Enthusiastic pledges of murder are not a healthy sign of affection, but after so much loneliness—whether from the past several days, or the years before that, you aren't sure—you can't find it in yourself to be disturbed. You feel and sound painfully fond when you reply, “I know.”

Suo’s expression dims a little then. “I thought you'd like the space anyway.”

“What?” You give him a confused look. You have never once given him any indication that you want even an inch of space from him. You'd crawl into his ribcage if you could. “Why would you think that?”

“I thought you felt suffocated. You left my club just so you could have sex with other people.” You blink, lingering on his wording. Other people. He continues before you can ask about it, sighing, “You didn't even ask me who I'd give permission to touch you. You just went ahead and decided on your own.”

“...”

You try not to look disturbed. Suo’s apparent wish to control your sexual decisions is news to you, and somehow more alarming than the murder pledge. And even worse—you immediately clench in response to his words. The thought of Suo dictating who does and doesn't get to touch your cunt is… well, your mind is heading in a distinctly non-platonic direction.

Trying to ignore the heat in between your thighs (but at the same time encouraging it), you ask: “Who would you have been, um, okay with touching me?”

“Sakura or Nirei,” he says immediately. “Though only Sakura would be interested.”

“What.” You gape at him, all arousal forgotten. “Bullshit. He would never.”

“Yes, he would.” Suo tilts his head. “Haven't you noticed?”

“I don't think there's anything to notice? And also—he’s so shy, I don't think he'd ever agree even if he were interested!” You give him a bewildered look. “He couldn't even look at us when we said we were getting married, he was so embarrassed!”

“Embarrassed?” Suo stares at you, an amused glint in his eye. “Is that what you thought was going on?”

“Was there anything else?”

He studies you for a moment, clearly entertained but not explaining why. “Well—it’s fine,” he says. “It doesn't matter for now. Especially since he's helping us plan a wedding and all.”

You make a face. “I still can't believe that's the cover you went for.”

“Are you upset with it?” he asks smoothly, and you huff and say yes, but from his sly look, you think he knows it's a lie.

Naturally, you deflect before he can further interrogate you. “So, given that you are now my fiancé, am I no longer allowed to work on Keisei Street and see customers after my shifts?”

You don’t expect it when Suo says, “No, you can.”

You stare. “What?”

“You can keep seeing customers if you'd like. You said it makes you happy, so why would I stop you?” Suo’s brow furrows, his usual calm replaced with concern. “Do you really think I do the things I do to make you miserable?”

Guilt gnaws at your heart. He looks so disappointed. “No,” you tell him. “I just thought it'd make you miserable that I was sleeping with people without your permission.” It is partly why you hid it from him in the first place, after all. You don't like to see him sad—you’re still haunted by the deep grief he was in, after your master died—and also, his misery tends to bring bodily harm to other people these days.

Cognizant of both concerns, you ask, “You’re really okay with me sleeping with my customers? I can stop, if you want.”

“No, it’s fine. I still don't like it, but you can continue for now if you want.”

Suo’s mouth curls—not in a gentle way, as has been his expression since seeing you walk in, but in a way that sets off your flight or fight response.

“I'm sure we’ll reach a mutual understanding soon enough.”

END PART 1

thank you genuinely if you read all that because this is a deranged au and I still can't believe I wrote it sldfkjsldfkj. please do let me know if you enjoyed my yandere suo delusions. sorry there was no smut in this chapter. I promise there is a ton in the next one (probably too much... lol. it's a 10k chapter and literally half of those words are about orgasm denial sldfkjalskdjdf). it's completely written and I hope to edit and have it up by next week!

also here is glossary of terms and world building notes if you are interested!

tagging @kweenkatsuki-fics !! <3

[onmyyan]

I love Caspian, the perfect soft yandere!

If his darling tried to leave would he be the pathetic cry baby who sobs as they try to leave and the guilt makes them stay or the possessive "You can't" and keeps them restrained kind?

A/N: WOOOO I love him n I wont him feedback is always welcomed hope u like🖤 (EDITED 12/16/22)

T/W's: Cis fem reader, Yandere shenanigans, manipulating but the hot kind, cursing

Okay, so the fun thing about Cas is he is charming. Like poured all his points into charisma, any chance to fight or argue is crushed by his silver tongue, people look at him and assume he's all brawn and no brain and he liked it that way, made it easier to crush vermin but I digress, we got a master manipulator on our hands, he'd never use his powers for anything that could cause you harm of course!

It's everyone else who's gotta be worried. He would slowly and meticulously isolate you but you're having such a good time you don't notice until someone else points it out. He's so good in fact before you know it he's the only person outside of work you've spoken to for three weeks. You'd been so wrapped up in Caspian everything else faded away, he had that effect on you a lot, you were so enamored with him that you'd completely forgotten about a brunch date with your girls planned ages ago, so when you're rushing around to get ready to leave he's suddenly behind you, his all-encompassing frame pulls you in from behind as he silently takes his morning kiss, his lips taste like maple, warm hands tilted your chin up for deeper access which he explored immediately. His tongue snaked its way in your mouth to dance against your own, the little moan he let out as he pulled away was downright sinful.

"Where you off to looking that fuckin' good." His words had some bite but no malice, suddenly flipped you around to face him, "Lemme' get a proper look at my girl." His hands trailed down your waist with a heated force. He sucked his teeth, shaking his head with that wicked grin, he leaned down to steal another soul-stealing kiss, "S'it my birthday again?" He always made you laugh, your face hot and cheeks sore from grinning like the fool in love you were.

"Just gonna get something to eat with the girls, you remember them right?" You'd turned once more to finish getting ready and missed the meanest expression curl on his face. He nodded, more to himself than you, with a half-hearted laugh. "Course I do."

It was about three weeks into the relationship when you first brought it up. He knew your partner meeting your friends was socially important but truthfully he couldn't give less of a shit at the idea of sharing you with anyone, he did that enough already in his mind. However, the shy way you pitched the idea to him had his heart melting and he had to physically keep his hands occupied so they didn't squish your cheeks. Naturally, he said yes, hoping he could keep himself in check and not scare you off but your little friends sure made it hard.

He remembers the way they stole your attention the entire night you'd introduced him to your friend group. The two women had made up their minds about him before he had gotten a word out he just knew, the slight widening of their eyes and the rapid way they texted under the table, but what sealed it was when you excused yourself to the bathroom, the two women following after you like lemmings.

He debated his actions for a split second before pulling out his phone and logging into the bug he'd installed on your cell. Now- he trusted you with his life, but he also knew how kind and forgiving you could be which the worst kind of people were attracted to. He trusted you to tell him if something was wrong, this was just an extension of that trust.

He caught the shrill voices of your companions with a wince, "-ly shit (y/n) he's is so fine!!" The giggles that followed belonged to you. "It's been so unreal- I feel like-"

"Is it serious?" One interrupted- he thinks her name is Shea, much to his annoyance.

"What do you mean? I think so- I hope so." His blood began to simmer at the two harpies polluting your thoughts. "It feels serious." You said mostly to yourself as the two women were chittering amongst themselves like teenagers, his hand found his chest at the sound of you reaffirming the truth, while you may not know it for certain yet, he knew you were his person.

"Why'd you ask?" You questioned softly, the silence that followed was thick, "Girl it's nothing. I was just asking if you were exclusive or like seeing other people." He could practically see her lewd expression, her tone made his stomach lurch, to think you thought these people were your friends. "Yeah, again I ask why?" You sounded uncomfortable, the edge in your voice only fueled the fire in his belly. She scoffed a laugh, clearly not ready to be called out, "Oh my god (Y/n) baby you are so tight for nothing- I was just seeing if you guys were legit- come on he's ridiculous you can't blame me for asking."

"Yeah don't get upset she was just kidding-come on our food should be there by now." The second woman dismissed your unease and tried to move past the situation which you chalked up to nothing and silently made your way back to the table where he'd been waiting, his phone tucked securely in his pockets. He watched you try to put on a face, to engage and be present but that wench of a woman across from you had ruined your mood.

He pretended to get a text and pulling out all his training in the theater he gasped, suddenly jumping to his feet, shocking all three of you.

"Ma called the bees are back!" He panted as if stressed, quickly grabbing his coat and throwing enough cash on the table to cover you both, you'd stood as well, the pure confusion on your face nearly made him break character, but he stood strong. "I'm sorry- bees?" You asked in disbelief, slipping on your own coat, his hand grabbed your purse for you, the other wrapped around your waist as he began leading you away, "Uh bye? I'll call you later." You yelled over your shoulder, squeezing his hand, "Is your mom okay? What's going on?"

"Oh she's fine I lied." He squeezed the flesh of your hip gently pulling you closer to his side. You couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. "You lied to get outta there? Why? Did Shea say something to make you uncomfortable-"

"No- you came back looking sad, and I didn't wanna' yell in such a nice restaurant so I made a call." He kissed the side of your head as you two leisurely walked back to the car, he'd spend the rest of the night showing just how much better company he was.

He is the biggest baby in the universe, and the thought of you being alone with those two demons made his skin crawl, so he'll crank up the drama to 11 and begin moping around until you ask him if he's alright, which doesn't take much as he looks like a kicked puppy. He assures you nothing's wrong but he makes it sound unbelievable until you, being the Angel you are say you're not leaving until he tells you what's going on, cue the waterworks as he "looks" for the words to say, you're by his side in a second, and as soon as you're within reach he's clinging to your middle, the hot tears streaming down his face left a growing stain on the nice dress you'd put on, he'd let himself be consoled by you, let himself be silently rocked and babied until he's "ready" to talk.

"I'm so sorry Honey- I'm keeping you from your brunch, don't worry I'm fine I'm just having a bad day. Go, have fun, I'll be here when you get back." He didn't need to look up to see you shake your head.

"Shut your beautiful face, I'm ordering from your favorite and we're having a self-care day okay baby?" He would nod into the flesh of your stomach, his grip tightening. "Thank you Sugar, you always take care of me, I love you." He's a whiney blubbering mess anytime you try to do anything without him but you're so focused on cheering him up that you don't notice the pattern until it's too late.

[makeitblue]

May I request reader accidentally giving the Tweels, Leona, Jack, and Rook advice on how they could woo them? Like reader saw something and said "if someone did that to me, I would marry them," and the boys overheard that? Thank you much 💙

Thank you for the request Elysium! It’s such a cute ask. I’m imagining the reader is talking to Ace, Deuce and Grim when they’re saying this.

Leona

His ears perk up a bit, but he doesn’t make any other noticeable movements or expressions. You were probably walking through the botanical gardens with the one brain cell trio, and passed by his usual napping spot.

Nothing really changes between the two of you. He’s not really the type to care much about romantic gestures and honestly he probably wouldn’t really think of it much. The idea of marrying you is planted in his mind, though, and slowly but surely, he’ll start to realize it’s something he might really want.

He starts to seem more and more out of it after the first few days. He doesn’t know why, he tells himself. After all, he’s the real catch here. You should be the one chasing after him. He realizes, though, that nothing will actually change between you two if he doesn’t do something, so he finally rolls off his ass and does something about it.

Ruggie probably actually does a lot of the actual work in terms of setting it up, but Leona does put effort into planning it out himself. His version of it still has a bit of a condescending air to it, but can you really expect any less from him? “Oi, Herbivore, I’m gonna hold you to what you said.”

Jack

Unlike Leona, Jack’s reaction is very noticeable if you’re paying any attention to him. His ears perk straight up, he takes in a sharp breath, and his entire body goes stiff. He’s basically temporarily stunned in place until something or someone snaps him out of it.

He has a hard time looking you in the eye for a little while because every time he does, the sound of you saying “I would marry them” echoes in his head. Heat rises to his face, his tail starts wagging uncontrollably, and his palms start sweating.

He’s honestly thought a lot about starting a relationship with you. You’ve already proven yourself a capable, warm, and reliable friend, and he’s been finding more often that he catches himself wondering if the two of you could be more.

Which is why out of all the boys on this list, it takes him the longest to actually go through with it. He takes you aside somewhere private, and basically stutters his way through the first half, but he’s clearly genuine with his affections, and you can tell just how much effort and thought he’s put into this for you.

“I’m not the best when it comes to this kind of romantic stuff, but I’ll do my best to make you happy.” He looks straight into your eyes for the first time all week, and you can feel how eager he is to hear your response.

Jade

A soft, smooth, “Oya?” slips past his lips. His usual mischievous smile blooms on his face and one of his eyebrows quirk up. He’s learned another interesting tidbit of information and he didn’t have to pry it out of you.

The differences in his behavior afterwards are miniscule. His glances linger a bit longer. His manner of speaking to you is ever so slightly softer. It’s not enough for most people to notice, but if you know Jade, you know something is up.

Even if you ask him about what he’s up to, the most revealing answer you’ll get out of him is a cryptic, “Hmmm, wouldn’t it be wonderful if you knew, Prefect?”

Which is why it is both a surprise and completely expected when he manages to flawlessly pull off the performance you had seen a few days before. The entirety of the fanfare is perfect, almost too perfect if it had been anyone but Jade.

“I hope this pleases you, dear Prefect. And I hope you’ll follow through with what you had said about this entire affair.” He maintains the same polite smile that usually graces his features, but his eyes hold a softness that’s similar to how you’ve seen him look at his terrariums. 

Floyd

“Hmmmm? So that’s the kind of stuff you like, Shrimpy?” Floyd saunters over to you and leans forward against your back, chin hooked over your shoulder. He’s leaning into you, but his eyes are staring calculatingly at whatever pulled that reaction from you.

He’ll badger you about it the next few days, asking you about the specifics of why you thought it was romantic and what about it you liked so much. It’s hard to tell if he’s asking you because he wants to bother you, he’s genuinely curious, or just because he wants to tease you a bit, but the answer is probably a combination of all those factors.

His behavior otherwise doesn’t change much. His interactions with you are about as sporadic is they were before, but he’s noticeably more affectionate with you. One day, though, he pops up out of nowhere, taking your hands and excitedly dragging you through the halls of NRC.

Once he’s gotten you where he wants to, he replicates the romantic gesture you had been talking about before, but there’s something off about the way he does it. It’s not that he’s not genuine. Floyd is Floyd, and he’d never do anything he really didn’t want to do, but the gesture itself has a strange vibe to it that is very.... Floyd-like.

When he asks you what you thought of it, you tell him just that, and he seems pleased with your response. “You’ll marry me now, right, Shrimpy? You said you would!”

Rook

“Beauté! Full marks!” Rook’s voice can be heard booming a few buildings down from you. He’s quickly making his way towards you and you can basically see all the shoujo manga roses and sparkles surrounding him as be bounds over.

“Monsieur Trickster, you have an impeccable eye for romance!” On the surface Rook seems very boisterous and excited. Honestly, who would expect any less from the self proclaimed ‘Le chasseur d'amour?’

If you look carefully, though, there’s a calculating, almost predatory glint in his eye as he speaks to you. It almost seems like he’s observing your reactions and gauging your every move.

You’re not very far off in that assumption. The next few days, you’re running into Rook more often than usual. It almost seemed like he was following you. He kind of was, but it was more out of a desire to find an opportunity to perform the very act of love that made you swoon so openly.

Once he gets his chance, he swoops in and takes it without hesitation. What grace! What elegance! He’ll look to you expectantly for your response to his declaration of his affections, and if you know him well enough, you’ll be able to see the little bit of smugness in his expression that’s basically screaming “You’ll follow through with what you said before, right?”

[readerstories]

Body Heat - Aaron Hotchner x male!reader

Summary: Been re-watching Criminal Minds lately, and ofc reading fanfics, and I see that there are very few male readers out there so here’s at least one. Some classic bed sharing because something breaks during a snowstorm and it’s freezing, so time to share body heat ;) (AO3)

Warnings: nsfw, smut

Wordcount: 3891

A case in a small and remote part of North Dakota during the middle of the coldest winter in memory was not ideal to say the least. 

You liked snow and the cold, but even you had your fill by now. Everything is frozen, the ground, the bodies of the victims, even the snow was crunchy and no good to make snowballs with. (All of you had at one point or another almost face planted before getting wise and buying shoe spikes.)

At least the case was over and you had caught the killer alive this time, so that was good.

What was not good, was the snow storm currently raging outside the cabin door, causing the whole team to be stuck waiting for it to clear so you could take off. Because of course, this being a small town, there was no hotel, only small cabins to rent. But at least there were beds to sleep in, a small desk with a chair, a small bathroom (and a fireplace that you had yet to use), which was really all you needed.

The team had split up, since there only were two queen sized beds in each cabin. You had ended up with Hotch, which you really didn’t mind. He was always a quiet roommate, very polite and proper. Didn’t talk much, mostly went right to sleep when he got in, or stared at case files all night.

He was doing the latter right now, while you try to read a few more pages of your book before planning to go to bed for the night. You are trying your hardest to keep your eyes open, determined to at least reach the end of the chapter before sleep takes you. The only lights in the room were the one above your head, and the one on the desk Hotch was using which made it actually kind of cozy, which made your goal even harder.

That coziness disappears in seconds however, when the lights flicker, and then turn off.

Silence, then the both of you try to turn the lights back on a few times. Hotch’s cell pings with a new text, which he quickly reads, the cold light of the screen now being the only light source. 

“Seems the power is out, Morgan is going to the reception house to ask the owner about it since he’s in the cabin closest by.”

“Okay, good, at least it’s not only us.” A few beats of silence, and then another text. Hotch frowns as he reads it.

“Seems like the whole town is dark, the storm has taken out the power, but this place has generators.”

“Great!”

“But it only covers the essential stuff so no pipes will freeze, so we need to keep everything else off.” You nod, forgetting he can’t really see you in the dark.

“So only heat on in the bathroom I’m assuming.”

“Yeah.” You both eye the fireplace, and you sigh. 

“The owner told Morgan they are fully usable.”

“Well, let's see if I remember how to light one, it’s been a while.” You get out of bed, walking over to the fireplace to start trying while Hotch texts with someone, presumably Morgan again.

Stacking wood and finding some old newspaper curled up in the firewood basket, it only takes two tries and a few minutes to get a budding fire going. Proud of yourself as you watch the flames slowly catch while crouching in front of it, you feel Hotch’s eyes on you.

“Did Morgan say anything else?”

“He suggested we move to fewer cabins. I told everyone to stay in their respective cabins, we don’t need anyone risking going out in this weather when we all have good heat sources.” You nod, getting up and stretching.

“Well, I’m going to brush my teeth then try to sleep, and you should too.” Hotch opens his mouth to say something, but you interrupt him.

“You can look at those casefiles tomorrow, a fire is not the best light source when reading and making notes.” Hotch sighs, knowing that irritatingly you got a point. You smile a quick smile before going to the bathroom. While you’re in there the lights you had turned on before come back to light, but Hotch is quick to turn them off, two small clicks following right after one another. You check the oven in the bathroom, turning it down to half, knowing that should keep the temperature above freezing at least.

Neither you or Hotch speak another word to each other before going to bed, curled up almost fully clothed in your respective bed in the already colder room, even with the fire now going quite well in the fireplace.

You close your eyes, sure that sleep will come easy, as it was not that long ago you had almost fallen asleep while reading, nodding off between each sentence on the page.

But sleep doesn’t come.

Instead, you lay there, head empty of any thoughts, calm, but still you just can’t sleep.

You hear the wind blowing outside, each gust of wind making the cabin creak and groan quietly, barely there, but noticeable in the quiet of the night. The fireplace crackles, giving back at least some of that cozy feeling from earlier.

You can also hear Hotch toss and turn, which is unusual for him. The few times you had seen the man sleep or just been in the same room as him while he did so, he had been still, almost never moving other than his chest going up and down with each breath.

It takes an audible shudder coming from the other bed for you to realize why.

Hotch is cold, very much so. You can’t help the little smile that grazes your lips, almost a quiet laugh in its own right. So the cold is what does the big bad unit chief in huh?

You don’t feel good about it for long however as it’s clear that some solution to the problem is needed, as Hotch sounds no nearer to sleep than you are, and you are certain that like this neither of you will get any rest soon. So you cast a glance over at the fireplace before quickly getting out of your bed. Hotch quietly speaks your name, a question more than anything else. You drag your mattress, your pillow and duvet in front of the fireplace and put it down, turning to face Hotch, who has propped himself up on an elbow, confusion in his knitted brows.

“Come here.”

“What.” The tone is deadpan, not really a question in the word.

“I can hear your teeth clatter, I know you’re cold, so take your duvet and get in front of the fire.” Hotch slowly does as he’s told, surprisingly without asking anything. Or maybe he just sees your point. He drops his duvet next to yours, farthest from the fire, but you tut, moving it closest instead.

“You’re the coldest one, so you can sleep closest to the fire.” Hotch quirks a brow, but sits down on the floor as close to the fireplace as he can.

“Are you sure there is no ulterior motive? Maybe you just want it to be me to catch fire if things go wrong.” You grin, loving when Hotch lets his humor shine through his normally stoic facade.

“Maybe.” You get down on the floor too, laying down at the same time as Hotch. Before he can really react, you pull him close to your chest. It’s the surprise of it all that lets you drag him so he’s tucked under your chin, his hands on your chest.

“What are you doing?” You feel his whole body stiffen, even his words come out like that.

“Body heat.” You hum. Hotch stays stiff for a little while, but then there’s a big sigh as he relaxes a little. Slowly, one of his arms goes over your sides, still slightly unsure about this situation. You smile, resting huffing out a small laugh.

It’s already a lot warmer this close to the fire and though sleeping on the mattress on the floor like this isn’t the best, it’s better than being cold at least. And you’re not complaining about having an excuse to hold Hotch close like this, feeling him shift as he tries to get comfortable.

You feel your eyelids grow heavy, sleep creeping up on you as you get warmer. The last thing you hear before slipping into dreamland is the crackling of the fire, and a faint snore coming from Hotch.

----

Sadly, you wake up just a few hours later needing to pee. You somehow manage to get up without waking Hotch, so you are as quiet as you can be while doing your business. He’s still asleep when you get back, face relaxed.

You stop briefly to watch him sleep, as weird as you know it is. It’s just that you rarely see Hotch without a frown or a face made of stone, so you drink in the sight as long as you dare. Which is only a few seconds, but you stop yourself when you yawn.

With quiet steps you walk over to the mattress, slipping under the duvet and back to the shared warmth. This time it’s you that are dragged into Hotch’s arms as he mumbles something in his sleep. You try not to make any sound of surprise, as not to wake him still. You don’t mind this turn of events at all, as Hotch mumbles some words into your hair before they yet again turn to occasional soft snores. Letting out another yawn, you slip an arm over Hotch’s waist and let sleep take you.

----

It’s still dark out when you wake next, although this time of year it doesn’t say much.

This time it was Hotch moving that woke you, as your arms have made their way around his chest like he has done with his, holding him close and feeling his every move. You can tell by his breathing and movements that he’s awake, so you slowly talk, more or less asking the only question you have right into his chest.

“What time is it?” Another movement, most likely checking his phone.

“6:30 AM.” You groan, his deep and sleep laden voice doing things to your heart and brain you don’t have the awake awareness to think about right now.

“Back to sleep it is.” Hotch chuckles.

“This is past the time I would normally get up.”

“Is the storm still going on outside?” You both listen, and yes, over the low crackling of the now almost dead fire you can still hear the wind taking a hold of everything around it.

“Sounds like it.”

“Great, more sleep for us Aaron.” You can’t see the raised eyebrow, but you can almost hear it in his voice.

“Aaron?” You nod, trying to get in the perfect position to go back to sleep.

“Yeah, it feels weird using your last name when I’m cuddling with you.”

“Sharing body heat.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Aaron chuckles, and weirdly enough he ruffles your hair a bit. Your heart aches at the familiarity of the motion, but again, not awake enough for any of that.

It is then that it happens. In your effort to get comfortable, you shift your leg a little to high, and suddenly your thigh rubs against a clothed, but very obivous, erection. Aaron draws in a small sharp breath as you turn to stone for a few seconds.

“I’m sorry, I, uh-” Suddenly more awake, but still not quite there yet, you say nothing at first. You could have made some lame joke about it you suppose, but instead you are just as awkward as him.

“It, it’s uh, fine, um..” Silence for a few beats, then you come to a mutual and unspoken agreement to just ignore it.

However, you find that no matter how hard you try, you can’t.

You’re not pressed up against his crotch or anything anymore, you moved your leg way too fast out of the way for that to still be the case.

But you are still in Aaron’s arms, which makes it hard not to think about it. He’s warm, a little soft, strong, and you can smell his cologne this close. His breath is steady, but too steady, like he’s trying to will himself to sleep. Your head almost spins by the feeling of it all, and your thoughts are no help either, replaying the moment over and over again in your head.

The noise he had made had made you stiffen, perhaps from other reasons than you would like to admit.

You don’t know how long you both lay there, trying to or pretending to be asleep, but you know it feel like forever and torture of the slowest kind.

An idea slips into your mind before you can really stop it, making everything else go quiet.

What if you did it again?

You had for a long time admired Aaron, perhaps in more ways than you were willing to admit to yourself or anyone else. And in some fleeting and weak moments you had thought he might be too. A lingering glance or two during a case when he thought you wouldn’t notice, him letting small smiles slip onto his face more often when you were around, him bringing you coffee from time to time.

Taking a deep breath, you steady yourself as you move your leg again.

Another sharp breath from Aaron.

“What are you doing?” He asks as you still with your thigh pressed up against his still there erection.

“Trying something.” A beat where neither of you move.

“Stop me if you want.” Aaron says nothing and does nothing, so slowly, oh ever so slowly, you use your leg to rub against him. His breath deepens, and one of his hands moves to your hip, but doesn’t push you away, simply letting it rest there. Your own hands roam across his back, shifting, fluttering, trying to find purpose. In the end you grasp the back of his t-shirt as you slowly start to try to move him too.

Aaron groans, something that makes your own dick start to stir, and then he’s moving, and oh.

He seems in no rush, just rocking his hips ever so slightly forward, pressing himself against your thigh.

His breath is speeding up, and so is yours, almost panting in the quiet of the room.

As good as you are sure it feels, you want more, you almost need more. Removing one hand from his back, you replace your thigh with your hand, rubbing and fully feeling Aaron’s dick strain against the front of his pants. A hitch in his breath, an audible swallow, him continuing to move, now into your hand, spurs you on.

As far as you can tell through the fabric, Aaron is rather large, and certainly excited. You let your hand wander, squeeze, and rub as you please, every so often pausing to grab at his thigh instead, teasingly letting your fingers drag and dance along it.

A thought, and then your other hand is in front of you, gently touching his chest. You back away a few inches, careful to keep your touch still on him. Casting a glance upwards as you start to push his t-shirt up from his stomach, you’re met with intense eyes watching your every move. You swallow, Aaron’s eyes shift to follow the motion, then to your lips as you lick them.

He lets you push his t-shirt up under his armpits, and only then does he do any of the work himself, lifting himself up slightly so he can take it off and drop it on the floor behind you. You don’t let your eyes or hand linger on his scars, instead focusing on his chest.

He’s less hairy than you imagined, but you don’t care at all.

And you had imagined it.

But nothing could compare to the real deal. Feeling him turn to putty in your hands as you rub him through his pants, hear him groan as you let your hand brush against a nipple.

“God, fuck, you-” Aaron stops himself, letting out another groan as you you lean forward and plant a kiss on his chest.

“Ah, fuck, come here.” Before you can ask what he means, there’s a hand in your hair yanking you up, and then you’re kissing him.

You’re kissing Aaron Hotchner.

Fuck.

Fuck yes.

In less than a second you’re kissing back, mouths uncoordinated and messy as they meet. Your hand which had stopped rubbing him, starts up again while you kiss, and he moans into your mouth, which, fuck, that’s hot.

Both of his hands tangled in your hair pull you even closer as you both almost forget you need to breathe, only breaking apart to gulp down some air before diving right back in, lips moving firmly against each other.

Aaron is the first to add tongue, which makes you let out a little gasp, giving him full access.

He takes the opportunity, and not to be outdone, you move your hand from his bulge to the button on his pants. A noise of disappointment turns into a small moan as he realizes what you are doing. With all the noises he is making against your lips, it’s hard to concentrate, so you break the kiss so you can concentrate on zipping him down, and getting into his pants. Aaron moves forward so he can kiss along your throat, letting his teeth nip along the little skin that is showing from under your shirt.

“Fuck!” You groan, feeling the small smile Aaron can’t hide as he kisses your skin.

“Could get used to hearing that more often.”

“Yeah, good, fuck.” You curse whoever invented zippers as you fumble with it as if you were a fucking teenager.

Finally, a few seconds later, you are able to shove your hand into Aaron’s underwear and the smug smile you could feel against your skin turns into a moan.

“Fuck.” It’s low, but you hear it, glancing at him with a grin.

“I would like to hear that too.” You say as you start to pump his length, using his pre-cum as lubrication. Another nip to your skin makes you moan.

“At least your shirts have higher collars.” Aaron teases as he moves his hands from your hair to the hem of your t-shirt, dragging it up. You let go of him only so you can take it off fully, then your hands are right back on him. One on his dick, the other tugging slightly at a nipple.

Aaron drags you in for a kiss, and you moan into his mouth as he lets his hands wander all over you. Up your sides, over your chest, down your stomach. Your breath hitches as you think you know where he is going, but instead his hands settles on your ass, pulling you even closer, so close you can barely move your arm, but fuck, he raises his leg a little and now your hard dick is rubbing against his thigh. He rocks forward, seeking friction for you both, and you can’t help but moan into his mouth.

His cock is heavy in your hand, heat radiating from all off him were you are pressed close, still under the duvets. Your movements aren’t rushed, neither of you in a hurry to finish, but fuck, it feels good. Every rock of Aaron’s hips moves his dick in your hand, and presses him against yours, building up on the desire you feel taking over you.

One of his hands move from your ass to your hair, pulling at it as he stops kissing you briefly to moan into your throat.

“I’m close, fuck.” Your eyes flicker all over his face, greedily drinking in the look in his face. The normally stoic Aaron coming apart in your hands  is a sight to behold. Hair sticking in every possible direction, breathing heavy trough kiss-bruised lips is a sight you will carry forever.

You nod quickly, diving on for another kiss.

“Yeah, yeah, come on, don’t hold back on my part.” Aaron groans as he comes, cum seeping trough your fingers as he shakes apart in your hold. You keep gently stroking him as he comes down from is orgasm, stopping when a shiver runs trough his body.

You’re still pressed close, so you you notice quickly when one of his hands moves down your front. He squeezes your cock trough your pants, and you buck your hips into his hand. He chuckles, and then he’s unbuckling your pants, and within seconds his hand is around your cock and moving. You moan, trowing your head back, giving him ample space to lean forward and kiss along your neck.

“Fuck, ah, no marks.”

“Good for you that it is scarf season.” Like the fucking tease that he is Aaron lick a long stripe along your throat, but he does move further down, sucking and biting bruises into the skin on your chest as his hand moves up and down slowly on your cock.

You can’t help the noises the escapes you, moans and groans mixing with heavy breaths. his hands is firm on you, taking you closer and closer with every second, building up until your toes starts to curl.

“Fuck, A-Aaron.” He hums against your skin, placing a last kiss on your collarbone before moving so you’re on eye level once more, a hand in your hair tugging lightly.

“Don’t hold back on my part.” The words are said with a small grin his face, and you div in to kiss him as you cum, spilling all over his hand.

For a few minutes, neither of you move, just catching your breath together in silence. You are the first to move, twisting around so you can get your t-shirt back. Aaron frowns, but you just use it to wipe his hand off and yours. You kiss his knuckles after you clean them off, getting a single laugh as a reaction. Discarding the t-shirt once more, you tuck yourself back into your pants, Aaron doing the same.

A few beats more of silence, both of you not really knowing what to say.

“That was-” Aaron breaks first, but stops himself.

“Yeah...” You can’t help but slowly break into a grin, then a little laughter. He does the same, quiet laughter and a smile making your heart warm as he pulls you back into his still shirtless chest.

You let him, content and almost ready to fall asleep again, but not before you get out some last words.

“Next time I would prefer a bed though.”

“Next time?” He questions as his hand settles against your back.

“Mhm.”

“Alright, I’ll remember that.” He ruffles your hair, placing a single kiss on top of your head. Within minutes you are asleep, back to dreamland in your arms, for once content with sleeping in.

(You don’t take your scarf off on the whole way home, but if anyone in the team notices, none of them mention it, but you can see a smirk threaten to break out on Hotch’s face every time he glances at it.)

[sunflowersupremes]

Silmarillion AU where Finarfin managed to drag his nephews back to Tirion or so help me GOD. @outofangband requested this one and I went a little overboard.

He had been fully intending to drag them back one way or another before he left, and he had rooms already waiting for them. Reinforced, of course, so he could insist that it was technically a cell so no one would argue with him.

He also intended to get Galadriel back, but she’s fucking stubborn. He can threaten his nephews; he cannot in good conscience threaten his daughter, because he knows it wouldn’t actually work and she would just shrug and tell him to TRY.

The Valar’s agreement to let the Feanorians return was only given to him moments before Maglor and Maedhros attempted to retake the jewels. It was by sheer dumb luck that Finarfin ran into them - he was walking out of camp to find them as they were sneaking in. Realizing what they were planning he shouted at them and called them idiots. Maedhros just took it with a straight face. Maglor almost cried.

Neither of them knew what to do when Finarfin said the Valar had agreed to void the Oath - and that he was confident they actually could since Manwë and Varda had been named as witnesses. They hadn’t believed the Valar when the message came from them, but coming from their beloved uncle it becomes a lot more persuasive (also Elrond and Elros turn up and side with Finarfin, so then they don’t really have a choice)

Mae and Mags aren’t exactly fond of boats, but Finarfin drags them on board anyway because he is DONE with this entire fucking continent and his nephews’ bullshit. Nerdanel meets them at the docks in Tirion and shouts at them, then hugs all three of them. Yes, including Finarfin.

They’re totally ready to go on to Valmar for trial - they both keep offering suggestions of increasingly terrible things the Valar could and should sentence them to - so they don’t know what to do when instead they’re dragged back to the palace in Tirion. You see, the agreement was that Finarfin would take them to Tirion then return them to Valmar, but it never actually specified when he had to return them, so he just… kept them.

Thankfully Olwë really likes his son in law, so he grudgingly gets Ulmo on Finarfin’s side (Ulmo agrees that no time frame was ever specified, so the Valar can’t actually do anything. Mostly, Ulmo is tired of the Noldor’s bullshit and wants to be left alone. He figures that leaving the Feanorians alone in Tirion will cause the fewest problems)

Nerdanel gets Aulë on their side and well, is anyone going to argue with two of the most powerful Valar?

The Valar decide that this is fine, because they weren’t actually sure what they were going to do with the Feanorians - Tulkas wanted them, which was proof that Tulkas Should Not Have Them - and they’d debated making them serve Olwë but he wants nothing to do with them (they also debated making them serve Earendil, but they weren’t sure they wanted them around the Silmaril and… well… you see, Earendil is a bit weird and was strangely excited by that idea, because Eönwë had told him that the Feanorians were actually surprisingly good kidnap parents and he wanted to hear all about his sons, so the Valar agreed that wouldn’t actually be a punishment).

So fine. They void the Oath. Keep your stupid nephews. We didn’t want them anyway.

I know the fandom kind of agrees that the Feanorians would be hated in Tirion, but what if they were welcome? Like, the elves that stayed behind must have had some major survivor’s guilt, so rather than seeing the Feanorians as dangerous murderers, they see them as more of ‘people we let down’ and ‘broken things to fix’

Also everyone likes Finarfin, and everyone feels bad that his entire family is dead or cursed, so if having pet Kinslayers makes him happy they’ll accept it.

Of course, it can’t all be happy, because the Valar are clear that they don’t want the Feanorians just out wandering around (and that was what Finarfin had expected, which is why their rooms were practically prison cells).

Maglor does all right, mostly because he has people to talk to (he quickly befriends everyone in the palace, from the advisors to random servants). He’s not doing great, but he’s doing just fine, all things considered.

But Maedhros… Maedhros does really badly in captivity.

He sits and stares at the wall, or paces, which they write off as just adjustment to his new home. Then he starts talking to dead people, which was pretty bad, but Finarfin is sure he can fix it given enough time. Then Maedhros starts talking to Sauron, and they realize that something in his brain thinks he’s back in Angband.

The only thing that keeps him sane is Maglor’s music, which would be fine, except Maglor can’t sing 24/7, so there’s nothing they can do for at least half of each day. Nerdanel sits with him, and that helps some, but he’s still only about half there.

And they’re desperate, but hey, Finarfin has this really weird friend, a Maia who serves Irmo, and… maybe Olorin can help?

Spoiler alert: Olorin can help, as it turns out, because he’s remarkably good at fixing problems.

He also takes lots of stories to Elrond once he travels to Middle Earth and takes the name Gandalf.

[thefanficmonster]

Few Too Many

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing, In-game violence and death, Suggestive comments

Genre: Protective fluff, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Jealousy is a dangerous thing, especially when the jealous person is armed with a gun....in a game of Counter Strike. At least Y/N’s friend will now know not to mess around and flirt with her, especially not with Corpse around.

Requested by 🐐 Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request! Sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post your request but here it finally is! I didn’t want to make it IRL violence to avoid triggering anyone while I also felt it’d be very ooc for Corpse to beat someone up but I still hope you enjoy the fic if you come across it and read it! Love, Vy ❤

“Hey everyone!“ Y/N greets her squad as they all customize their characters while I sit there, observing and unknowing of what I’m supposed to do. “I invited Corpse to play with us today, hope y’all don’t mind.”

“Of course not! Nice to finally meet you, Corpse. We’ve heard a ton about you from Y/N, thanks for making our girl the happiest she’s ever been.“ One of her friends says, the tone of his voice suggesting he’s only half-joking with the dad like comment he made.

“Nice to meet you too, man. Glad I’m the one she gave the chance of making her happy. That’s all I ever wanna do.“ Though it may sound cheesy, as guys, her friends can probably read into how genuinely I mean what I’ve said.

Dating a girl with only guy friends has it’s pros and cons. Which outweigh which is still up for debate since I’m still researching, but so far so good in my opinion. This is the first time I’m interacting with them directly so I’ve still got a long way to go in terms of getting to know them and the details of their relationship with Y/N better. Regardless, I at least know they can easily understand me and put themselves in my shoes if I ever ‘mess things up’ with Y/N and she goes to complain to them - something that will most likely never happen. I’d never dare make this girl upset. Chances are, if I do, her friends won’t get to me on time - I would deliver my own punishment just the way I think I deserve it. However, there’s also the chance of them getting super protective of her and ganging up on me over something as small as a fight. By the many things and stories Y/N’s shared with me about them, I believe they wouldn’t think twice about kicking someone’s ass for her. They’re not massive dudes - I’ve seen pictures of them - but I for one don’t ever wanna see em angry.

“Ay bro, what’d you do to score our best girl? You must know what she likes. If so please, by all means, do tell.“ One of them, not the one who was previously talking, speaks up, his words making me furrow my brows in both confusion and irritation.

I open my mouth to complain as I slowly start cracking my knuckles when Y/N and her friends beat me to it. Thing is, Y/N’s friend group consists of three guys and her and yet four voices scolded the guy that made that suggestive comment. That being said, this guy probably isn’t considered to be one of her friends, at least not one that’s a permanent part of her friend group.

“Seth, cut it out!“ The guy I was previously speaking to says sharply before softening his tone to refer to me, “Sorry about my brother, excuse his lack of brain cells, please.“

Just then, I also receive a message from someone. Checking my phone, turns out it’s Y/N who by the way is currently in the living room while I’m in the recording room. Her text reads:

Y/N ~ Ignore Seth. I told Leo to not invite him but he’s still here somehow

I send her back a quick reassuring text before answering the guy I now know is named Leo, “No worries, it’s fine.”

“See? The guy can take a joke, you’re all just freaking out over nothing!“ Seth laughs, reminding me and the others of how loud he is compared to us.

Despite acting like it’s no big deal, I can’t help but admit to myself that this behavior of Seth’s has awoken a deeply buried suspicion of mine that’s not only mine but also arises in every guy whose girlfriend hangs out with a lot of guys. It’s not that I don’t trust Y/N - she could literally blindfold me and tell me to walk through a pool of lava, promising it wouldn’t hurt and I’d do it - but we all know about that saying that every guy in a group with one girl has liked said girl at least once.

Disturbing to think these four, including Seth five, dudes could’ve possibly been my competition at some point. It’s nice that they’re all super chill about it, mostly cause some of them have girlfriends as I was told.

Nevertheless, we get over that hiccup and carry on with the small talk and preparations for the game. Since it’s my first time playing CSGO, Y/N, Leo and her other friend Clancy explain the mechanics to me in detail to avoid me getting confused mid-game and getting myself killed. When they finish, we start the round and wait for the game’s algorithm to separate us into two teams which Y/N jokingly refers to as cops and robbers. Unfortunately, the end result of that separation ends up being me getting put in the terrorists’ force with Leo and Clancy while Y/N’s with the FBI, partnered with Seth and her other friend Evan.

“Alright, team, we shall now disperse. Corpse, remember, if you see more than one of them, radio in and lay low, we’ll be with you as soon as possible.“ Leo informs me as he runs off in one direction, Clancy going in the opposite. I confirm I understand and go along my way too, heading for this ancient looking structure that looks like it could belong in an old-timey movie. 

Walking in, I realize the place is way bigger than it appeared on the outside. A quick look up confirms that there are three fucking floors above, not to mention that the ground floor is huge. Luckily, there are many crates and barrels to hide behind if I come across an FBI agent. I sure as hell hope it’s Y/N, I could maybe even try talking her into giving me a second chance at life and pretend she never saw me. Come to think of it though, I’d probably prefer getting killed by her rather than her friends - especially Seth.

Given that we’re in a Discord call, I can hear all the conversation going on. They are all quiet though, I can just periodically hear the mumbles of someone muttering to themselves as they navigate the map cautiously out of fear of running into their opponent unprepared. The silence is put to an end though when Seth speaks up, addressing Y/N.

“Yo, your boyfriend’s with the terrorists, ain’t he? That’s like the universe giving you a sign that y’all shouldn’t be together.“ The fucker laughs at his own joke while I can literally hear Y/N rolling her eyes.

“Have you heard of Romeo and Juliet, Seth?“ She asks sarcastically, almost getting a chuckle out of me but I suppress it to avoid getting caught listening in.

“Yeah, they both die at the end. Fucking boooriiinngg.“ Just then, I spot two silhouettes entering the building. Aiming my gun at them reveals their names - just the people I’m currently involuntarily eavesdropping on. Seth and Y/N don’t notice me though so I quickly duck behind a crate and prepare to radio in when Seth continues verbally torturing Y/N and dancing on my last nerves, “I personally think the friends-to-lovers trope is far more interesting...“

Did this guy just- no, he’s gotta be fucking kidding me

I’m left with my jaw hanging in disbelief at this guy’s audacity. I have no doubt Y/N’s about to put him in his place herself but I just gotta have my own chat with this guy. And by ‘chat’ I mean I mindlessly rush out from behind the crate towards where I saw him and Y/N and open fire on him.  I hear his startled and upset screams with Y/N’s laughter in the background. She doesn’t try to stop me as a teammate of his should and would, instead she just observes the scene unfold, laughing her ass off.

“Yo man what the fuck was that for?!“ I hear Seth’s yell but only faintly since the sound of gunshots is still echoing through my headphones. Yeah, I’m not done shooting this fucker.

“Corpse...Corpse, buddy...“ Y/N manages through fits of laughter she cannot tame, “That’s a few too many bullets, he’s already dead.”

“And that was a few too many comments for him to be let off the hook.” I answer as sharply as I can with the new-formed smile on my face. What can I say, her happiness is contagious.

“Well, you got your first kill in CSGO. Good job, babe! I’m super proud of you!” She cheers for me, clapping her hands excitedly. 

“Nah that was my first overkill.“ I quickly add, with a more threatening tone: “And it won’t be my last.”

“Let’s just hope there aren’t few too many of these overkills either.“ She snickers.

“That doesn’t depend on me, babe.“ I say smugly, suggestively enough for Seth to pick up the dropped hint. Mother fucker’s officially been put in his place and I couldn’t possibly be happier - with the added bonus of getting a ton of laughter out of Y/N who also decides to walk away, leaving me unharmed but promising to shoot to kill next time she sees me.

I’m ok with that. She could kill me anyday.

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[teenyweenynightghost]

As lucky as the rainbow

A/n: Im sorry. Also. Special dedication to the love of my life, @cantaraiilmionome , who let me write this fic

Warnings: Smut

Word Count: 1.7K

Pairing: Vic X Fem!Reader

Taglist: @fuckim-so-gay @ginny-lily @messyhairday-me @cheese-toastie-11 @wannabemarlenabutiscoraline @simp-per-ethan @maneskinrollercoaster @juststalking @superchrystaldrug @immrbrightsideeee​ @shehaddreamstoo​ @tiaamberxx​ @victoriadeangeliswifey​ @bidet-and-legolas​ @makapaka11​ 

My heartbeat was wild and mostly erupting from my chest as the whole world around me seemed to quiet down. The mesh shirt I was wearing was already crumpled from all the times I had fiddled with it nervously. To be honest, could anyone really blame me? I have been obsessed with Måneskin for ages, and I finally get to see them live. A small, really pesky part of my brain kept bugging me. They would have no reason to like or notice you; why are you even here? Well, that definitely did not help the anxious feeling growing in my stomach.

Suddenly, the crowd erupted in cheers as four rock stars appeared on the stage.

And oh god what they were wearing. A certain blonde caught my attention, one who I was more than familiar with. Victoria strutted on the stage, her bass strap wrapped around her, as a small corset did nothing to cover her. Two black stripes of tape covered each of her boobs and she looked celestial. It was unfair to everyone else! How could she just look like that!?

“Is everyone ready?” Damiano’s strong voice sounded out of the speakers, earning an excited cheer from everyone.

As they started playing, I realised I was no longer anxious. Moving from side to side and jumping along with them, It felt as If the world stopped temporarily just for me to enjoy this moment. It was truly heaven, and their magnetic presence made it infinitely better.

“Now, for a fan favorite…” Damiano spoke into the mic, soon interrupted by the all too familiar notes of For Your Love. Oh god.

I couldn’t decide who to pay attention to; Ethan’s godly form playing the drums in a way I wished he would play my ass, Thomas’ talented fingers strumming the guitar chords, Damiano fucking the stage while singing or-

Oh.

I was one of the lucky ones who got to sit up front. So my view of Victoria was truly a dream come true. Her eyes were closed as she thrusted into the air, her hips moving with precision and skill, as she moved her head backwards in rhythm with the song. Two of her fingers were plucking the chords, clouding my mind with thoughts of what else she could do with them.

The whole song became a vivid fantasy for me, as I kept watching Victoria play, entranced by her sensuality. The song sadly came to a stop, and Damiano started speaking again. My lovely brain, however, could only gaze at Victoria, her wonderful top and fingers.

As If on cue, she knelt down right at the edge of the stage, and winked at me. Wait, she did what? My brain stopped functioning as I kept staring at her, eyes comically wide and mouth hanging open.

She smirked at my reaction, and motioned for me to come closer with her finger. A bodyguard came and opened the barrier, as I made my way through.

I was right in front of the stage, looking in her icy blue eyes. She leaned down and cupped my cheek, shaking it softly.

“Wanna stay here, cucciola?” She asked,  a sultry smile appearing on her face. I nodded eagerly, causing her to laugh, before returning to her band.

The rest of the concert managed to make me so wet I was convinced my knees would give in the second I would try to walk. Between Victoria grinding on the floor right in front of me, making sure to stare right in my eyes, Damiano jumping in the crowd and grabbing Thomas, as well as Ethan being an overall god-like presence.

It was, however, over, as soon as it started. My face fell as they all waved their goodbyes to the crowd, and I turned around, preparing to leave, but was soon interrupted by a guard.

“Miss De Angelis said that she would like you to go backstage.”

That was the second time the girl’s actions shocked me. I certainly hoped it wouldn’t be the last as I followed the guard to the back.

“Ah, there you are, cucciola!” Her raspy voice exclaimed, as she headed towards me and grabbed my waist, leading me towards a changing room before I could even mutter a word.

“You, I me- mean ...Why? Like… I just thi-I” Damn it, where was my wittiness when I needed it? If I wasn’t already blushing, I probably looked like a sweaty tomato right now.

“Oh darling, I suggest you figure out how to talk, so I’ll know how to please you later.” She murmured in my ear, my knees almost giving up at her words.

“Oh god, umm, I- hi.” I managed to let out. I’m so glad I could ramble about crystals for 3 hours but when It comes to basic greetings my mind just dips. Lovely.

“We have about 15 minutes before we need to leave.” She said, grabbing my body and pulling me right against her, softly nibbling on my neck.

“Considering the way you fucked the stage earlier, I think even 5 would suffice.” Ah yes, my brain was back. Temporarily, though, because Victoria’s hungry lips smashed into mine in a fraction of a second, quickly turning me around so I would be prompted against the wall.

We moved in sync as she sucked every breath out of me and explored my mouth with her tongue. She bit my lip hard, and licked the reddish spot which appeared, before moving onto my neck.

She sucked on every inch of my skin, leaving deep red marks in her wake, which would definitely be an interesting subject of discussion once I got home. I couldn’t help but let out the most pathetic whines, which only seemed to turn Victoria on more.

“So fucking desperate puppy. All I do is dance a little on stage and you’re already willing to be on your knees for me.” She purred right against my breast, earning a deep moan from my treacherous mouth,

“What can I say, I like being a good girl.”

Her mouth bit into the soft skin which was now exposed, as my poor shirt was laying on the floor, discarded seconds ago. I whimpered and bucked my hips into the air, whining even more at the realisation that there was nothing there.

“Please..” I begged, as she kept kissing and licking around my hardened buds, heating me up even more.

“Take your pants off, then” She instructed, and I did it in a heartbeat, the piece of clothing joining my shirt.

The last thing I saw was the blonde’s head lower , before her tongue finally gave me what I wanted. She swiped it deeply inside of me, humming at the liquids pouring from me. Moving to my clit, she started circling around it as one of her long fingers thrusted deep inside of me.

“Fuck… Victoria…” 

She added another finger and quickened her pace, as I rapidly approached my edge. God, no one did it as well as her. She was getting rougher by the second, biting at my thighs and sucking hardly, until she heard my breath catch, before I erupted in a mess of loud moans and screams.

I came hard on her hand as she guided me down to the ground, licking the tears falling from my eyes.

“You really do like being a good girl.” She whispered, cupping my cheek and pressing a soft kiss on my puffy lips.

“Oh I can be bad too.” I smirked, watching as her eyes darkened.”

“How about you return to the hotel with me, and we can explore that talent too…”

***

More than half an hour had passed, and I was sitting in an Uber right next to Victoria. While the band packed up their stuff, I hung out on the stage, eating a popsicle Damiano had given me.

“Do you have to be anywhere early tomorrow?” Victoria’s voice interrupted my thoughts, softly grazing her fingers over my thighs.

“Like I wouldn’t cancel them for you.” I responded, earning a soft chuckle from her.

“Excellent. How about we talk a little then, hmm?” She asked, pulling me closer to her.

“About what?” I asked, clearly thinking of innocent topics.

“Which was your favourite part about how I fucked you backstage.”

Oh. My. God. At this point, my brain had stopped working so many times, I probably had approximately 2 brain cells left. And damn, I answered in a corresponding fashion.

“I must say I enjoyed the talking.” 

Victoria laughed, a devilish grin forming on her face, as I bet her mind filled with the dirtiest ideas.

“I’ll take your word for it. I’ll make sure we’ll do just enough talking.”

“Wait no- You know, I really liked the cum part too.” I tried to save myself, because let’s be honest, If this woman was anything, it was a tease.

“Considering how loud you were moaning, I bet you were.” She purred again, dragging her fingers further up my thighs.

“Tell me, what did you fantasise about most while watching me play?”

My mind went blank, but not really, as the thought of her grinding on my face while practicing the bass made its way into my head. God, I was royally fucked.

“Tell me, pet.” She snarled against my neck, grabbing it roughly and bending me over.

Her hand wandered down to my ass, grabbing it roughly before slithering back around to my stomach, and pulling me up again.

“Practicing your bass on my face.” I moaned out, red and embarrassed.

“A lovely imagination you have. I’ll make sure to consult it more often.” 

“That won’t work. It seems to go blank around you.” 

Victoria smirked at my confession and pressed me down onto her lap, slowly working her way under my shirt. 

“I really like this. Where did you get it?”

“My mom.”

“She wears this?”

Fuck. “Oh, you meant the shirt?”

Scoffing and rolling her eyes, she pulled the material up, and pressed a wet kiss to both of my breasts. Oh god, this girl would kill me.

“My special thanks to her. And also my apologies, because I’ll fuck you till you scream and cry tonight.”

[kyouminaine]

He didn’t notice it at first, but it gradually dawned on him that Sephiroth had settled his hand on his waist. To anyone else, it would’ve seemed like a normal gesture between lovers, but for Cloud, he wasn’t used to such treatment. The way Sephiroth tended to touch him in public was a bit rough and possessive, boldly making a statement of their involvement with each other.

The touch of the older man’s fingers on the curve of Cloud’s hip was still possessive, but considerably less aggressive than Cloud was used to. He waited until the old woman walked away from them before shifting his gaze to Sephiroth.

A slight frown touched his brows, and he was half tempted to look over his shoulder to see who he was making a statement towards, but managed to hold back his curiosity and just ignore what he could.

It was probably a good thing, because even after the other patrons had avoided Sephiroth’s gaze when he had made his move, they still tried to surreptitiously take a peek. It wasn’t commonplace for a young “woman” to come through such a small establishment in the arms of a large, mountain of a man.

To answer Cloud’s silent inquiry about what Sephiroth looked like to these people, he was nothing short of a brick house, which stood in sharp contrast to Cloud’s slender figure. Anyone with two brain cells could tell that the marks that peeked out from the hems of Cloud’s clothing knew what they were – and it wasn’t from a rough travel on open roads.

Cloud, almost delicate in comparison, gave the other patrons much to fantasize about, especially from the patron who so happened to be their neighbor at the motel.

Cloud remained ignorant of their speculations as he considered Sephiroth’s comment. It made him realize one key fact:

“Did you buy anything besides clothes and toys?” He frowned, already suspecting the answer.

Sighing softly, he looked off to the side where a road map was posted on the wall. It wasn’t surprising that it existed, considering how remote this place was. There were markings on it, showing which roads were no longer usable and which were known to be more dangerous. He was familiar with most of the main roads, but it didn’t hurt to check if anything had changed since he last came to the western continent.

“It’ll probably take us a few weeks...” he muttered as he studied the map. They would need to make sure they were properly prepared for the travel. That included getting provisions. And hopefully some proper clothes too.

Cloud silently cursed Sephiroth for his lack of common sense. He couldn’t drive in a dress the whole way there.

The sound of footsteps coming their way brought Cloud out of his thoughts. He saw the old lady coming back their way, a plate in hand. “Here you are, sweetie. Yours will be out soon too, dear,” she added as she looked at Sephiroth before walking away again.

Cloud offered her a smile of thanks and turned his attention to his sandwich. Three different meats, lettuce, tomatoes, mayonnaise, and a side of chips and pickle spear. It was a filling sandwich without being heavy.

Sliced in two, Cloud picked up one of the halves and took a bite. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was really hungry or if the cook was especially skilled, but that first bite was practically heaven. He had enough mind to still keep up appearances, but otherwise his attention was all on the sandwich.

When he felt a bit of mayo caught on the corner of his mouth, he slowed down on his chewing and looked for a napkin dispenser. He saw one on the other side of Sephiroth’s seat. Swallowing, Cloud pointed at it. “Get me one.”

kyouminaine​:

Keep reading

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Golden Thread

Prompt: since Janus is Deceit, what if it takes a physical toll on him when he only tells the truth and doesn't manipulate anyone for a period of time? could you please write a oneshot where Janus is in a position where he really needs to to tell the truth, but he can tell he's getting close to his truth limit? - anon

 Hey! I don't know if you're still taking requests for prompts (and I apologize if you aren't), but could you do Janus-centric fluffy hurt/comfort? And maybe a polyship? (If you want to, of course). - anon

Thanks for the prompts, babes! This was supposed to go up yesterday and I’m so sorry I forgot

Read on Ao3

Warnings: sympathetic remus & janus, other than that, it’s not that bad

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 5874

There is a thread that winds through Janus’s tongue.

 Thin, golden, finely spun with lies. It tastes sweet against the back of his teeth, the back of his throat. As he talks, it colors his words with a soft gleam, spinning and spinning into the air in front of him. It coils neatly around his throat as its spool and winks.

Most of the time its taste is enough to curl the corners of his mouth upwards into a smirk, watching it wind and weave its way around the others. Sometimes he thinks he can see other threads, clasping delicately around wrists, arms, knees, necks. Sometimes he can’t resist letting his threat tug them this way and that. Come on, what good is temptation if you never give in to it? He’s grown fond of the sweetness it leaves on his tongue, in his words. Saccharine as they may be, the haze they leave behind is more than enough to make up for it.

 Sometimes the sweetness is too much. He swears he can feel cavities forming in the back of his mouth. His teeth start to ache. And sometimes…sometimes he doesn’t care. It’s too much fun to keep tugging this way and that at the others, too entertaining to let the thread unspool and unspool from his throat, filling the air with its golden light. His smile sharpens and the tangle grows, because what’s the fun of it without a little risk of hurt?

 Other times he knows to back off. He adores the others, but no matter how fun they are to play with, he knows not to push too hard. At those times, he lets the sweetness spill off of his tongue, gently winds the thread back around his own throat. It always protests, the lack of sweetness making his tongue ache, the grip on his throat just a little too tight. But the looks on their faces…the begrudging gratitude, the sincere remark, or--god forbid—the poorly disguised hope…well.

 Sometimes he wonders whether or not it’d be worth it to keep the thread fully wound.

 Not that he ever would, it’s just a thought experiment.

 It’s not like he wonders what it would feel like to have Patton be able to listen to him easily, not make it a fight to get his point across. He doesn’t want to have an engaging conversation with Logan about philosophy, ethics, science, anything just to hear the brilliant man talk. He refuses to entertain the idea of being a proper source of comfort for Virgil. He wouldn’t enjoy snarking with Remus just for fun and not because he doesn’t know how to do anything else.

 And he…

 Well.

 The idea of being able to have an honest conversation with Roman makes him fill to the brim, top to toes, with hatred.

 He doesn’t have much of a choice.

 He can speak a few times with the thread coiled up, just enough when it really counts. He knows the others, he can’t just play with them all the time, he’ll get bored. And they’re not really cut out for it. And as much as he loves to see them squirm out of their comfort zones, it’s not good for Thomas. That’s his real priority.

 Janus pushes open the door to his room and sighs, taking his hat off and hanging it carefully up on its stand. He summons his cane and makes it the rest of the way to the desk, plopping himself into the chair and scrubbing his hand through his hair.

 “They’re so slow,” he mutters as his fingers go to the clasp around his throat, “how do they ever get anything done?”

 Well…they don’t. Not really.

 Don’t get him wrong, he loves being the one to tug and twist them into the right answer, but he doesn’t want to be there all the time. They do know what they’re doing, they’re all good at their jobs, so…trying to manage all of that is exhausting.

 The clasp at his throat falls away and he lifts his hand, craning his neck above his collar. There.

 He knows the thread isn’t real; nothing here is real. Nothing of him can ever be real. But he can still feel it sometimes. Like today.

 They’d been…talking. It wasn’t an overdue conversation, not in the slightest, and he’s had to be honest with them. Doesn’t mean he has to be honest with himself.

 And isn’t that just his saving grace?

 Janus winces as he feels the thread wind tighter and tighter around his tongue, pulling his gloves off to touch his throat, just to confirm that it’s not real. His fingers meet his scales and he sighs, missing the sweetness. It won’t be for long. This will blow over and tomorrow they’ll be back to everyone’s favorite regularly scheduled programming. He’ll make Patton blink in that adorably-confused way, Logan will be pinching the bridge of his nose trying to make everyone shut up and pay attention to Janus’s lies, Virgil will be hissing at him like a demented cat, Remus will be having the time of his life, and Roman won’t want anything to do with him.

 Janus breathes a sigh of relief as sweetness starts to coat his tongue again.

See? It’s already working.

 It doesn’t keep working, but you know.

 The effort was there.

 They’re talking again.

 The living room feels dry. Has it always been this dry? Disguising it as a roll of his eyes, Janus tilts his head toward the ceiling. Huh. He’s never noticed that light there before. Has it always been there? Probably.

 “Janus,” Patton calls, “can you—um—“

 Rolling his eyes again, he looks back down, crossing one leg over the other. He hides the lack of sweetness by pursing his lips.

 “Yes?”

 “Did you hear what I asked?”

 “Of course I did,” he drawls, idly flicking the tips of his gloves together.

 “…so what do you think?”

  Honestly.

 “He didn’t hear you,” Logan says quietly, and thank god the other brain cell has joined the chat.

 Patton frowns. “Then why—never mind.”

  Oh, Patton.

 “I asked if you knew how to help,” Patton says, his hands clutched in his lap, “with the barrier breaking down. It’s been kind of rough from our side so…”

 Right.

 There hadn’t been a barrier up until a few years ago. Something had formed in the Mindscape, an invisible wall. It wasn’t real, of course, but it made walking through the hallways unnecessarily difficult. One of them would try to walk from one side to the other and be suddenly seized with a compulsion to do anything but. Or they’d be accompanying another Side back to the room only to freeze in the middle of the corridor and have to mutter out apologies. It’s exhausting. Luckily they’d still been able to sink in and out to get from place to place, but it’s not like the barrier actually does anything.

 Janus sighs and uncrosses his legs. The thread leaps to the tip of his tongue, eager, poised.

 “I don’t know,” he says instead, feeling the sweetness recede in disappointment, “I don’t know enough about how it formed in the first place.”

 “It happened around the time of the series premiering,” Logan says thoughtfully, “perhaps it could be linked with the presentation of the Mindscape in the fanbase?”

 Virgil snorts. “Like any of that is accurate.”

 “You don’t know that, Virgil.”

 “Um, excuse me, which of us spends the most time on Tumblr?”

 “What does that have to do with anything?”

 “Where do you think most of the fanbase hangs out? ‘Cause it sure as hell ain’t Facebook.”

 “That’s a shame,” Patton sighs, “I miss it.”

 “You miss Facebook?”

 “You know it does still exist, right?”

 “Did Thomas ever even have Facebook?”

 “The color palettes were nice!”

 “You mean they were blue.”

 “Yeah, that’s what I said.”

 “…the point being I know a lot about what the fans do with the content we give them and most of that stuff is entirely made-up.”

 Logan raises an eyebrow. “As opposed to the made-up that the series is.”

 “Shut up, L.”

 “I’d rather not, actually.”

 Virgil swats Logan’s shoulder half-heartedly.

 Janus is smiling. Why is he smiling? He hasn’t lied enough for the sweetness to make him smile and it’s not like Remus has appeared with feet coming out of his head again. In fact, Remus is just…sitting next to Roman. Granted, he’s got his morning star in his lap dripping with god knows what, but there are no crazy shenanigans happening.

 He watches Logan reach out and tangle his fingers with Virgil’s as Patton starts talking again. He watches Virgil nudge Remus’s tape back over to him when he drops it halfway through rewrapping the grip on his morning star. He watches Roman cover a flinch that he’d never have noticed if he wasn’t paying attention and sees Remus take hold of Roman’s costume and grip it tight in his fist.

 The thread twitches angrily on his tongue as he tries to make sense of what’s happening.

 “Has anything happened,” Roman asks as Patton pauses, “on your side?”

 Virgil shrugs. “I haven’t noticed anything. But I normally sink straight to my room, so…”

 “Remus?”

 “You do realize that most of the thoughts that come into my head are the type that you guys would ignore anyway, right?”

 Roman rolls his eyes too, but it’s fond. Affectionate. Janus is not.

 “…Janus? What about you?”

 The thread begins to sew neat little words into his tongue, all prepared for him to say. Yes, he’s noticed something, he’s noticed that the others are so much less fun than they used to be. No, he hasn’t noticed anything, it’s not like he’s the observant one.

 Yes, he’s noticed that the barrier is fading and he hates it.

 No, he hasn’t noticed anything because he spends as little time with the others as possible.

 “I don’t know.”

 Patton nods. “That’s okay, just…maybe try keeping an eye out? See if anything changes?”

 “I will.”

 The thread takes longer to undo that night.

 Janus slumps onto his elbows and groans.

 When did he become addicted to the sweetness? When did it get so hard for him to realize when he’s the one telling the lies and when the thread is telling the lies? When did he stop caring about the words coming out of his mouth?

 The truth is, of course, that he didn’t.

 He started caring more about the others.

 The thread tightens in warning but Janus pushes it aside. He frowns, staring hard at the grooves in the desk. He started to care about them, not just as parts of Thomas’s personality that would help him do things, but as their own Sides. As them.

 He cares about how Logan’s eyes light up just a little when he starts talking about something. He cares about how warm Patton speaks when they’re all there. He cares about how bouncy Remus gets when they talk to him. He cares about when Virgil’s eyeshadow turns all purple and sparkly. He cares about how hard it’s become to genuinely make Roman smile.

 The thread groans.

 Janus curses.

 He can’t.

 “The others aren’t important,” he hisses at the mirror, “Thomas is the only important one.”

 The thread pauses.

 “I don’t care what they want,” he continues, feeling it slowly start to unwind, “it only matters that Thomas is safe. That Thomas knows what’s going on.”

 It starts to run back out along his tongue.

 “Their thoughts and feelings aren’t important.” His hands ball into fists. “I don’t care about them.”

 His tongue starts to taste sweet again.

 “I don’t care about them,” he repeats in a whisper, “they aren’t important to me.”

 The salt of the tears goes perfectly with the sweetness on his tongue.

————————————————

Something is wrong.

 Something is horribly, desperately wrong and the others are panicking.

 The barrier is gone. That’s not the bad thing. The bad thing is that along with it, everything in the Mindscape is rushing out of control.

 The walls won’t hold. The doors lock and unlock more often than they stay in place. Floors disappear out of nowhere and open up into yawning black pits. The doors to the Imagination buckle and groan under the onslaught of rushing beasts from the other side. Something is fading.

 They can’t sink out anymore. They need to know where everything is in order to do that. The place is a labyrinth. Only one entrance, one exit. There’s no way that they’ll know the right path unless they run it themselves.

 Janus knows something is broken the instant his eyes open. He can feel it. Cracks wind their way through the walls, through the floor, the ceiling shakes. He’s out of his room in an instant, running through the halls, somewhere, anywhere, are they alright? Where are they? Have they faded?

 “Virgil!”

 “Janus?” Virgil flies into him at breakneck speed, clutching his cape in both hands. “Are you—what’s happening? Where is everyone? Did something go wrong? What’s happening to Thomas?”

 The thread perks its end up eagerly but Janus swallows it down.

 “I don’t know what’s happening,” he says quickly, pulling Virgil closer, “and you’re the first one I’ve seen.”

 “I can’t find anyone,” Virgil pants, “I can’t—there’s no one—we’re going to fade.”

 “We won’t, I promise. We just have to find the others.”

 “Hello?” Another voice calls out from around the corner. “Hello, where the fuck is everyone? Who decided to break shit without me?”

 “Remus!”

 “That’s me, where the fuck—“ Remus barrels around the corner, almost knocking them over— “Virgil! Snake Face!”

 “Remus—“ Virgil wraps Remus in his arms, clutching him tightly. “Where were you? What’s going on?”

 “I was draining the viscera from a partially dissected sperm whale—“ of course he was— “but then everything started shaking.”

 “We can’t find the others.”

 “Then what the fuck are we waiting for?”

 They don’t even look back; Remus grabs Janus’s sleeve and Virgil still hasn’t let go of his cape, dragging him behind as they race through the halls. They can see where the barrier used to be, though with how much the place has shifted, it’s impossible to tell. Janus grits his teeth as they prepare themselves to smash through.

 Nothing happens.

 They just keep barreling down the corridor.

 “Patton! Logan! Roman!”

 “Where the fuck are you guys?”

 “Can you hear us?”

 “Re? Re, is that you?”

 “Ro!”

Remus reroutes them effortlessly, barreling through chunks of disappearing floor and leaping over cracks forming in the tiles. Virgil hangs onto Janus as they go. Janus can’t let go of either of them.

 “In here!”

 A blade flashes through a crumbling chunk of wall and a hand reaches out. Remus grabs it and vaults through the opening.

“Oh my goodness, Virgil!”

 “Pat—“

 Another hand helps to haul him through the crack. The hand he has in his cape pulls uncomfortably at Janus’s neck.

 “Where’s Janus? Did you guys see him?”

 “Yeah, he’s right here, Ja—“

 “Snake Face, get your butt in here.”

 “Don’t just stand there, help you idiots!”

 A sickening crack right above him makes him jerk his head up. His eyes widen as a massive chunk of ceiling starts to fall. Hands wrap around his arms, his clothes, even his waist and pull.

 “Janus?” He blinks through the dust to see Logan staring at him, concern written plainly all over his face. “Are you alright?”

 No, the thread sews, I am now trapped with the five people I abhor most in this world. I am the furthest from alright I could possibly be.

 “Are you all alright,” he asks instead, lifting his hand to fix Logan’s collar, “I’m not hurt.”

 “We’re fine,” Roman says, helping him to his feet, “we managed to get in here before the place really started coming down.”

 “What’s going on?”

 Patton’s shoulders slump at Virgil’s question. “We were hoping you would know.”

 Janus bites back a curse, turning to look at the opening. It’s blocked now, completely choked in dust. He glances around.

 “Where are we?”

 “Safe room,” Roman says, tapping the wall, “something Remy helped us come up with.”

 “Remy?”

 “He’s a bitch but he knows what he’s doing.”

 “Fair enough.” Janus grits his teeth. “So what do we know?”

 “Who was awake when it happened,” Logan asks, “Roman and I were not.”

 “I was also not awake,” Virgil mutters, “and I would really appreciate this not being how I wake up ever again.”

 “I agree.” Janus glances at Patton and Remus. “I was asleep too. Remus, you said you were awake?”

 “I was in the middle of an experiment!”

 Logan perks up. “An experiment?”

 “As much as I love watching you two be nerds together,” Roman breaks in, “can we do that later?”

 “Of course.”

 “Spoilsport,” Remus says fondly, “but it wasn’t me. I’ve done this experiment before, nothing I do could do…this.”

 All eyes turn to Patton.

 “…Padre?”

 Patton shakes his head. “I…I don’t know. I had just gotten up to get a glass of water when it shattered in my hand.”

 “It did what?”

 “Are you hurt?”

 “Let me see.”

 “No, no, guys I’m fine,” Patton says quickly, holding up his hands, “but then the whole house started to shake. I don’t—I don’t know what’s going on.”

 Janus’s heart sinks. He’s telling the truth.

 They’re stuck.

 “Oh, god,” Virgil mutters, his hands flying to his head, “oh god, oh my god, no one knows what’s going on.”

 “V,” Logan murmurs, crouching down and reaching to take his hands, “Virgil, look at me.”

 “We’re going to mess everything up—it’s going to be so bad—what’s happing to Thomas?”

 “Virgil, look at me, come now, it’s going to be alright—“

 “How can you promise that?” Virgil’s voice starts to rise. “Have you seen what’s happening?”

 “Easy, shadow-ling,” Roman murmurs too, his hand carding through Virgil’s hair, “just listen to Logan.”

 “You’re doing well,” Logan encourages, rubbing Virgil’s arms, “just stay here, with me, alright?”

 Janus watches Patton and Remus stand a little closer to the three of them, shielding them from the debris still raining down from outside. Something in his gut clenches.

 Then he notices the tremors are slowing as the other calm Virgil down.

 And it clenches more.

 “It’s us,” he mutters quietly, almost too quietly for the others to hear, “it’s us. We have to stick together.”

 The thread on his tongue twitches angrily. There’s almost no sweetness left in his mouth now.

 Patton looks over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

 “Look—“ Janus points at a crack in the wall— “they’re moving slower now. The closer we are together the less this place falls apart.”

 Virgil’s next inhale is almost a sob.

 “I really do just ruin everything, don’t I?”

 “No,” Roman says firmly, wrapping his arms tightly around the shaking Side, “we’ve had this conversation, shadow-ling. You’re important to us. You’re not a burden. And this certainly isn’t your fault.”

 “We need you,” Patton echoes, reaching down to rest his hand on Virgil’s shoulder, “don’t go anywhere.”

 “Don’t make us chase you.” Remus bonks his head into Virgil’s. “Not fun.”

 Virgil still looks doubtful. Which, alright, isn’t his fault. Voices in the head, not to mention the general anxiety, it’s no surprise, not really. Janus clears his throat.

 “Virgil,” he says softly, crouching down as well, “Virgil, listen to me.”

 Purple eyes stare at him.

 “You haven’t lost us,” he promises, “you won’t lose us. You’re important, not just for Thomas, but for us too. We care about you. All of you.”

 “Fuck, J,” Virgil huffs, swiping at his face, “why’d you have to make me cry?”

 The tremors keep settling.

 Patton throws his arms around Virgil. “See? We care about you, kiddo. We love you.”

 Something else twitches in Janus’s throat as he hears Patton say that. Virgil must notice it too; he looks up and squints at Patton.

 “Have we ever told you that we care about you?”

  Bingo.

 Patton falters, his grip wavering. His smile wobbles. “W-well, no, not really, but that’s okay! I know you do.”

 Logan tilts his head. “But you enjoy hearing it said.”

 The smile slips even further. “…you don’t like saying it.”

 “That’s no excuse!” Roman reaches over Virgil to get to Patton. “If you want us to say it, we can say it!”

 Janus shifts his attention. “Patton?”

 “…yeah?”

 “No one takes care of us like you do,” he says softly, “and none of us care as openly as you do.”

 Patton’s eyes widen. “Janus—“

 “You try,” he continues, not to be interrupted, not now, “and that is perhaps the most admirable thing we could ask for.”

 “He made Pat cry too,” Virgil mutters, pulling the now-sobbing side in for a hug.

 “Happy tears,” Patton manages, “I—wow.”

 A crack in the wall disappears.

 “Is that what this is?” Logan looks around. “An…emotional problem?”

 “We’re fading, the whole Mindscape is,” Janus says around the thread, “if we—if we stay, then we can fix this.”

 “O-oh.”

 That tone of voice always leads somewhere good. Sure enough, as he looks around, he sees Logan adjust his glasses and take a step back.

 “And where are you going?”

 “I’m not sure I can help,” Logan says flatly. “You have the answer already.”

 “But we’re not done.”

 “And what do you expect I can lend to this problem?” He spreads his arms wide. “I’m no expert on emotions, nor am I useful in proving things that are already true.”

 “Wait, what the fuck are you talking about, L?” Virgil scrambles up. “What are we proving here?”

 “That you are important.” Logan frowns as Patton and Roman scramble up too. “What?”

 “You’re implying that you’re not important,” Remus growls, “and I’m pissed about it.”

 “But—“

 “No buts!” Roman points a stern finger at him. “Believing yourself to be unimportant is a falsehood!”

 “I never said I was unimportant,” Logan corrects, “I said I would not be helpful in this situation.”

 “Bullshit. You helped me calm down.”

 “So did Patton and Roman.”

 “You figured out that I like being told that you guys care about me!”

 “That was obvious.”

 “Logan,” Janus calls softly to get his attention, “Logan, if you believe that anyone knows us better than you, you are gravely mistaken.”

 Logan’s mouth drops open.

 “You claim not to know emotions,” he continues, stepping closer, “but you know us, perhaps better than we know ourselves at times. You are kind, you are wonderful, and if you ever stop teaching us things, I am sure we would never recover.”

 He slips Logan’s glasses back into position.

 “You are not just Logic,” he murmurs, “you’re Logan. Stay. Be Logan.”

 Logan swallows heavily.

 “I must ask,” he says hoarsely as a tear rolls down his cheek, “if you intend to make everyone cry today.”

 Janus chuckles. “No, I don’t, but it seems that it may be a side effect. I promise I’m not trying.”

 “You won’t make me cry,” Remus remarks casually, “not without trying. I don’t care.”

 Oh, Remus. Janus doesn’t bother to hide his smile at the indignant squawk from Virgil as Remus implies that he doesn’t care about the others.

 “I don’t need to try to make you cry,” he says, “I’ve never wanted that. I just want you to be listened to.”

 “…fuck you, Snakey.”

 Patton lunges forward as Remus sniffles.

 “Do we just like…not talk to each other, then?” Virgil wipes his nose. “Because I sure as hell don’t remember us getting this emotional about anything.”

 Then Janus realizes that his mouth tastes bitter.

 The thread has not been idle, he realizes in horror, not while he’s been spilling his guts to the others in an effort to hold them all together. It’s dragged itself over his tongue, scraping every last bit down his throat, winding tighter and tighter. His mouth tastes bitter. It’s not supposed to be bitter. It burns, scraping along the sides of his mouth until they smart. He swallows frantically. It’s not working. Nothing is working. It hurts. His tongue hurts. His throat hurts.

 The floor wobbles.

 He can’t catch his breath.

 His eyes land on Roman.

 No.

  No.

 No, no, no, he can’t stop now.

 Not here.

 Not with Roman.

 Roman just watches the others wrap their arms tightly around his brother still wiping snot from his nose. A soft smile curls at his mouth that never reaches his eyes. Behind him, massive cracks open up in the walls.

 No.

 He can’t let Roman fall.

 Not after everything.

 Roman notices he’s staring at him. He just raises an eyebrow.

 “Going to make me cry again,” he asks softly, “or are you all finished for the day?”

 The thread stabs words into his tongue until he can taste blood.

  Well, it’s not like it’s difficult to make you cry.

  If I had something that would work, I’d say it.

  Only if you were a Side worth worrying about.

 No.

 No, no, he won’t say that. He won’t.

 The thread tightens around his throat as a harsher warning. The bitterness on his tongue worsens.

 “It’s alright, Janus—“ no, it isn’t— “I know you don’t like me much anyway. Don’t force yourself.”

  At least you’re being considerate for once in your life.

  Took you this long to figure it out, hmm? No wonder you’re called the stupidest Side.

 Janus grits his teeth against the thread. It just keeps tightening. His mouth has never tasted sweet in his entire life.

 He needs to tell Roman how important he is. He needs to tell Roman that they all have to start paying attention to him. He needs Roman to know that he’s sorry, sorry he ever implied otherwise.

 All that comes out of his mouth instead is: “you need attention.”

 Roman blinks. “Well, yes, I’d say that’s true.”

 He has to tell Roman that Thomas needs him, needs him to be strong and healthy, to dream.

 What comes out instead is: “you spend so much time stuck in your head.”

 Roman frowns. “If that’s the best you can do, there’s no need to overexert yourself. I can make myself cry much easier than that.”

 Why won’t his tongue cooperate?

 The thread just tightens around him again. A warning. A threat. A promise.

 He can’t tell the truth.

 He can’t.

 He can’t.

 It doesn’t matter. Roman won’t know how important he is. He’ll think that Janus hates him and that’s fine.

 Janus struggles to breathe.

 “There are two Creativities,” he grits out, even if the ‘but only one Roman’ won’t follow.

 “Patton is the heart,” comes out next, separate from ‘but he needs you to love.’

 “We don’t need you,” hurts on the way out because it leaves behind ‘but we want you, we want you so badly.’

 The Mindscape is crumbling. Janus can’t speak. The others are going to fade. He can’t help Roman. He’s ruined everything.

 He’s forgotten what sweetness tastes like.

 Roman is frowning at him. He stands, striding across the broken floor, eyes flint chips. Janus closes his eyes and braces for the hit.

 Roman’s fingers hook into his collar and yank.

 “What the fuck is that?”

 “Why is it cutting into him?”

 “How long has that been there, this whole time?”

 “Janus—Janus can you breathe?”

 What?

 Janus opens his eyes in confusion. Roman’s still holding onto him but his eyes are fixed not on his face, but lower. Something shiny casts light onto Roman’s face.

 “Janus,” Roman asks softly, “what is this?”

 “What is what?”

 “This,” Roman says darkly, fingertips tracing across something, “around your neck.”

 No.

 No, it’s not real.

 It can’t be real.

 …can it?

 “It’s not a thread,” Janus spits out, his tongue smarting in the air, “and it doesn’t keep me from telling the truth.”

 Roman’s eyes widen in horror. He reaches forward and Janus keens as the pressure tightens.

 “Don’t stop,” he grits out, “it doesn’t hurt.”

 “The sky is green.”

 “What?”

 “The sky is green,” Roman repeats, still glaring hard at Janus’s neck, “the Fourth of July is in October.”

 The thread loosens.

 “Remus, get over here,” Roman barks. A second later, two more fingers slip under the thread. “Now lie.”

 “Um, ventricles are found in the liver.”

 “Blue is made of red and orange.”

 “The alphabet starts with the letter ‘m.’”

 Logan catches on next. “The sun goes around the earth,” he says, nudging Virgil.

 “Uh—“ he glances around— “Patton isn’t wearing glasses.”

 “Paris is in Canada.”

 “Books are printed on alligator skin.”

 “Water isn’t clear.”

 “Mark Zuckerberg isn’t the inventor of Facebook.”

 “Earmuffs go on your hands.”

 “Hamburgers are vegan.”

 Lies spin out of their mouths. Remus grits his teeth as he pulls at the thread. Patton looks around frantically. Janus still can’t breathe.

 The room is settling, slowly but surely, but there are still cracks snaking their way through the walls, the ceiling, the floor. Right under Janus.

 Roman looks directly at him.

 “I hate you.”

 The thread gives.

 The brothers yank, unspooling the thread from around Janus’s throat, throwing it at the walls. It freezes in mid-air, still glowing gold.

 The cracks weren’t cracks, they were threads.

 The golden thread melts seamlessly into the wall, knitting the place back together, stitch by stitch. The walls settle, glowing softly as the floor reconstitutes under them. The Mindscape breathes.

 Janus hasn’t noticed any of this. He’s too busy collapsing into Roman’s arms, sobbing his heart out.

 “Shh, shh, sweetheart,” Roman coos, “I’ve got you, you’re alright, you did it, come here…”

 “He’s gonna be cold,” he hears someone—probably Virgil?—say over his shoulder, “grab a blanket. Can we sink?”

 “Let me try.” A second later there’s another sigh of relief. “Yeah. We can. Let’s get him to the living room, I’ll get a fire going.”

 “In the fireplace, this time, Remus!”

 “Yeah, yeah!”

 “Come on, little snake,” Roman coaxes, lifting him up to a broad chest, “let’s get you warm.”

 He’s still sobbing breathlessly, draped uselessly over Roman. He feels another set of arms as they sink into the couch.

 “I’ve got him,” Patton says quietly, “hey, kiddo, can you hear me?”

 The next sob is slightly higher.

 “Shh, shh, it’s okay, kiddo, you don’t have to speak right now.” Patton rubs soothing circles into his back. “Just stay right here with me, right here, the others are just getting the nest set up.”

 N-nest?

 “Give him to me, I’ll help him down while you slide in.”

 “Make sure to get his head, he’s having trouble right now.”

 “I understand.”

 A warm hand cups the back of his neck, leaning his nose into the crook of a warm shoulder. Books, coffee, whiteboard pen…Logan.

 “You’re freezing,” Logan murmurs, concerned, “let’s get you warmed up…no hyperthermia today, hmm?”

 Janus almost groans in relief as his scales hit something thick and soft and warm. He’s still crying, isn’t he? Why?

 “Hey, Snakey,” Remus mumbles, his hand under Janus’s head, “you gotta roll over, you’re gonna crush yourself that way. Come on—for crying out loud, you bastards, how long does it take to undo a clasp?”

 “Got it.”

 He suppresses a whine as his cape flies away, only for it quickly be replaced by a warm, warm blanket. He blinks his eyes open, straining to see through the tears. He can only see blobs. What is happening?

 “Rest,” comes another voice, is that Roman? Isn’t Roman angry at him? He can’t stop the confused whine.

 “Shh, shh, easy, little snake,” Roman soothes, running his hand through his hair, “breathe, that horrible thing was choking you.”

 The horrible thread…is it…gone?

 “Relax, come on, shh…easy,” he says earnestly when Janus whines again, “don’t work yourself up.”

 “He’s gonna hurt himself if he keeps clawing at his throat like that.”

 He’s doing what now?

 Warm hands take each of his and…oh. Well, maybe he was.

 “That’s it,” Patton whispers, “easy…”

 “What…what’s going on?”

 “You did it,” Logan says softly, stroking his thumb along the back of Janus’s hand, “you figured it out.”

 “But—“ he swallows, still not used to the freedom in his throat— “I couldn’t do it.”

 “You weren’t supposed to do it on your own, Jan-Jan. We all had to do it, remember?”

 “That’s what you said, J.”

 “So we did,” Patton finishes, smiling at him, “and it worked.”

 “But—but I—“ Janus’s eyes flash up to catch Roman’s.

 Roman, who sat there and didn’t protest when Janus couldn’t say one nice thing about him.

 Roman, whom Janus has hurt so many times.

 Roman, who pried the thread away from Janus’s throat without blinking.

 Roman, who caught him, and is still here.

 “Maybe the next time we talk,” Roman says softly, “we can do it without that thread around your throat, hmm?”

 “I’m sorry.”

 “Shh, little snake,” he murmurs, gently stroking a tear away from Janus’s cheek, “I know. But not right now, okay? You’re still crying.”

 He is?

 Oh.

 “Close your eyes,” he encourages, his hand still cupping Janus’s face, “rest, we all need it.”

 “Did we—“ his tongue is heavy— “did we ever figure out what happened?”

 “I believe Thomas had something of an identity crisis,” Logan remarks, “but we can figure that out later. For now…we should all try and go back to sleep.”

 “Great. Pop Star, budge.”

 “Hey! Kiddo!”

 “Ah. Much better.”

 “Pocket Protector, stop pretending you don’t wanna cuddle and get down here.”

 “In a moment, Remus, I need to take my glasses off.”

 “Ro-Bro! Get over here.”

 “Re, pulling me over Janus is not going to work.”

 “L, are you coming?”

 “Must you all be so impatient?”

 “Yes, my dear darling nerd, now come here.”

 Logan rolls his eyes and lies down, still holding Janus’s hand. On his other side, Roman leans Janus’s head into his chest and hums softly.

 “There. Now we’re all together again.”

 “Shut the fuck up, Princey, I’m trying to sleep.”

 “Shut up yourself, then.”

 “Kiddos.”

 “Sorry, Pat.”

 Logan chuckles. Remus shifts on the edge of the blanket nest. Roman tilts Janus’s chin up.

 “Are you alright,” he whispers as the others drift off to sleep, “not hurt?”

 Janus shakes his head. “I…was it really a lie?”

 “Was what really a lie, little snake?”

 “…you said ‘I hate you.’”

 “Oh, that.” Roman chucks him lightly under the chin. “What does your mouth taste like?”

 …sweet.

 It’s sweet.

 Oh.

  Oh.

 Roman smiles. “Go to sleep, little snake.”

 The Sides fall asleep in the Mindscape, threads wearing them tightly together.

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