#I’m allowed to be cringe I’m still young right… yes I’m allowed to be weird and unfunny

[misora-msby]

embarrassing moments with inarizaki

inarizaki always looks so cool but you know they’re actually dorks and i am here to provide you the content to show theyre clowns. enjoy the headcanons :)

Kita Shinsuke

firstly. kita shinsuke being embarrased? making a mistake? unheard of.

he’s a perfect man and we all know it.

anyways

you two were having a nice dinner out together. 

it was a pretty fancy place so you decided to dress in a different style today

but you were beginning to wonder if kita liked it or not because he seemed to keep looking past your shoulder instead of at you

he was an observant guy so you were wondering if something had happened behind you

but you couldn’t hear anything weird so you assumed not

you decided to just stay quiet about it at first but now it was beginning to become annoying! 

why wasn’t he looking you in the eye to speak?

midway through your dinner, kita finally spoke up tho

“y/n, your shirt is slipping... yer bra’s showing.”

oh.

right. you were wearing your off-shoulder top.

“o-oh. shin, it’s that kind of shirt, you know?” you had to explain your outfit to ur bf with a pink face.

“oh... that so... well it’s cold these days so if yer feelin’ cold lemme know. i’ll give ya my jacket.”

GOD HES SO PERFECT KITA SHINSUKE I HOPE U MARRY HIM???????

Ojiro Aran

another man with next to no flaws.

but nature says everyone has to make some mistake.

so it was a regular school day, our aran has just come to class from morning practice and there’s still some time left until class starts.

all the girls in class are gathered around a table

he’s not sure why, it’s probably watching an idol video

but ur man wants to be a little romantic!!

plus he just showered so he smells Great uwu

he goes over and hugs you from behind, placing his chin on ur head.

“hey, bb whatcha ya doin”

all the girls gasp.

he doesn’t get whats wrong, it’s not like it’s a secret y’all are dating

pda to this level aint bad either

especially compared to his teammate miya atsumu

“ojiro aran.”

why is your voice behind him

he looks down and nearly faints when he sees he hugged the wrong girl.

to be fair she looked a lot like you from behind, just maybe 1cm shorter.

“i’m so sorry!” he keeps apologising to literally everyone and all the class is giggling bc they never seen their school’s ace so red before.

“didn’t think i’d come back from the toilet and see my bf cheatin”

“IT WAS A MISTAKE! I’M SERIOUS! Y/N U KNOW I LOVE YA!” 

hes so funny i swear

the volleyball team hears of it and it gets even better 

Miya Atsumu

it’s not a secret that miya atsumu, setter of the inarizaki volleyball team and invited to national youth training camp, had a gf

he was very much in love with u 

the whole class knew it because he’d show it off whenever he could too

so here comes valentines day

last year he received like... 50 different gifts from girls and guys aiming to win his love.

you didnt even give him one lmAOOOOO 

but this year, he had been not so subtly trying to hint that “i better not receive any chocolates this year when i’ve got a gf!”

he reaches school and plops into his seat.

there’s an anonymous box of chocolates with “please accept my love, miya-kun! <3″ on it

“the hell’s this?!”

“oh? chocolates?” - osamu who just popped his head into the class to shove into his twin’s face how much chocolate he got.

especially since the blond was off limits, the grey-haired twin had a bigger following now.

“do they not know i have a girlfriend...”

“well, ya might as well eat it. ya dont know who to return it to.”

“that’s like receivin’ their love!”

“no it ain’t. it’s just food.”

atsumu couldn’t argue with that and popped a piece in.

it was very delicious. the chocolate practically melted on his tongue and was the perfect sweetness and was filled with a delicious ganache too.

it was perfect

but he couldn’t accept this!

“it ain’t even good. too sweet and the filling’s sticky.”

“ah. really? is that what you think, tsumu?” you ask from the door where you had been watching the exchange take place.

“y/n! look at this! some weirdo gave me some choco and like... samu said to test it but i’ll toss it out, promise.”

“tsumu, i made that... i wrote it anonymously because i thought you’d know it was me and i wanted to tease you a little.”

��huh.”

osamu: “yeah actually i went over to her place to teach her how to make it.”

atsumu: “you said you went to suna’s place?!”

osamu: “i went there later but i first went to help her.”

you: “anyways if it’s not good i don’t mind if you toss it out...”

tsumu: “NO NO BABE I PROMISE IT’S GOOD”

you: “you just said-”

“BABE I SWEAR IT’S GOOD I JUST DIDN’T WANT TO ACCEPT A STRANGER’S STUFF”

“you’re always so honest though... are you sure?” you were having your fun teasing him now.

“BB PLSSSSSS”

he still cringes at the memory 4 years into ur marriage

Miya Osamu

osamu would DEFINITELY make home made dinner dates a regular thing.

this alone shows he’s the better twin - miya atsumu stan

he loves cooking and eating with you so sometimes when he’s got a day off you guys’ll set aside the afternoon to make a real nice dinner

imagine candlelit dinner with miya dorito body osamu in a suit

of course some fun stuff happens after too ;)))

and today’s your third anniversary!!

so osamu adds lots of ‘natural aphrodisiacs’ to the meal

i’m talkin

garlic bread and soup for an appetiser, a nice juicy steak with garlic and red wine sauce for the main, and chocolate coated strawberries for dessert

mm yummy

you two cleaned your plates completely (it was very delicious) and as you were washing the dishes, osamu comes up behind and wraps his arms around your waist

“yes, ‘samu?” 

“i’ve already prepared us a nice bath with yer favourite scents.” he’s got his head resting on ur chin

“really? thank you~ i’ll be there in a bit”

but he doesn’t let go of you while you’re still scrubbing at the baking sheets.

“osamu, you can let go for now.”

“don’t feel like it.”

“i gotta wash the dishes since you did most of the cooking.”

“mmm, i’ll do it if ya gimme a kiss.”

you roll ur eyes bc what a cutie 

u turn ur head to give him a kiss but suddenly he 

he burps

that garlicy wine smell is just kinda there

“ew! ‘samu!!”

his face is real red but he’s also trying not to laugh because he’s still a dude and this is absolutely hilarious to him

“want another?” he starts teasing

“i’m not getting in the bath with you.”

“wait wait wait i’m sorry, i’ll go brush my teeth and give you a proper kiss”

Suna Rintarou

you two were taking the train home today

it was quite late due to practice going a little longer than usual, so he insisted he walked you back home today.

sunarin can be a good boyf sometimes ok

it was getting a little crowded on the train tho, since people were heading home or going out for dinner

luckily you had already grabbed seats so you were quite comfortable sitting side by side. 

you and suna have the type of relationship were you dont have to talk all the time

silence is v comfy.

he’s just scrolling through twitter on his phone while you’re looking around the car, lost in ur thoughts

suddenly you notice an old lady standing a little bit away from you and you stand up

“baa-san, please take my seat.” you whisper in the crowded carriage

“oh how kind of you. thank you, dearie.” she smiles and takes your seat while you stand in front of her and suna instead.

suna doesn’t realise this exchange has happened tho

(he’s on his phone as usual)

probably starting some fights on twitter

he decides to try to be a little romantic and pretends to stretch his arm around (who he thought was) you.

“rin.” 

why is your voice right in front of him?

“young man, i appreciate it but i’m married.”

suna jumps as he sees someone he did not recognise next to him.

he looks up and notices you had moved.

you’re giggling

the granny’s giggling

atsumu and osamu sitting opposite on the carriage look like they’re going to cry because they’re trying not to laugh

“i was just stretching. really.” he mumbles and crosses his arms, face red as a tomato

he’s so embarrassed.

Ginjima Hitoshi

sometimes the inarizaki vbc would go for an after practice snack at the nearby family mart

they were really hungry after an intense preparation for nationals which was in two weeks so kita insisted they all get something to fill them up on the way home

but lucky lucky ginjima hhehe

you (his classmate who he had a crush on) were working at the cash register today.

“welcome!” you greet everyone as they enter

he cant help but stiffen up a bit 

why are u so cute and cheery today

the 2nd years already know what to do.

“heyy, i think last week i bought ya that ramen right? ya owe me my konbini snacks today!” - atsumu

“yeah. you lost a bet to me last week so u gotta pay up. a pack of jelly fruit sticks please.” - suna

“forgot my money today, mind payin’ for my snacks too?” - osamu

“like hell i’m paying for all of you. especially you, osamu. you eat too much all the time.” 

aran’s noticed what’s going on,

“hey, if it’s just for today you can do it right? if ‘samu don’t pay ya back tomorrow i’ll nag him ‘til he does.” 

“fine...” his basket is full when he goes to the counter.

he’s trying his best not to have a red face while watching u scan the items, ur hair swaying slightly as u look back and forth between the objects and the screen.

“alright. 4,890 yen please!” GOD he hated how expensive it was, that’s almost all his weekly allowance but bc it’s u and ur voice saying it it’s kinda ok

“mm, ok.” he still has his eyes on you while he takes out his wallet and puts it on the counter.

yes

his wallet, not the money

“...” “...”

“excuse me, sir. this is...”

he almost slaps his face wtf he’s so embarrassed.

“s-sorry. just a little absent minded after practice.” he starts pulling out his cash.

“it’s fine! i know how hard you guys practice!” you smile while performing the rest of the transaction and pass him his big bag of goods. “good luck for nationals, ginjima-kun!”

he almost runs out of the store and is about to fight the rest of the 2nd years for watching and (suna) recording

[storiesforallfandoms]

worst first ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 1649

request?: yes!

“MGK and his girlfriend reader are doing worst first podcast with brittany furlan(lee) and there all cute. Sorry if this one is weird. Love your writings <3″

description: in which they go on a friend’s podcast to talk about their worst first experiences

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

Sharing my most embarrassing and personal stories on a podcast for the world to hear was definitely not how I expected to be spending my Monday afternoon. But there I was, sat in front of a microphone next to my boyfriend, Colson, across from our friend, Brittany.

Brittany had invited us on to her podcast, Worst First, where the point was basically to talk about your worst moments in life. I was a pretty private person, so I was a bit skeptical about going on the podcast, but I had trouble saying no to Colson’s blue, puppy dog eyes.

“Have you guys ever talked about your worst first relationship stories?” she asked us.

“I don’t think I’ve told Colson all of mine,” I admitted.

“I don’t think I have either,” Colson agreed. “I feel like we definitely have a lot of stories that we just haven’t gotten around to sharing yet.”

“What’s some you have shared?” Brittany asked. “Like...okay, starting off easy, what is your worst first ‘I love you’ story?”

“A girl I was hooking up with said it to me during sex once,” Colson responded almost immediately.

Brittany and I laughed at his quick response. “What, like a one night stand?”

“No, it had been a few times,” Colson explained. “It was this girl, for lack of better words she was a groupie. She followed me to basically every American show I performed and would track me down at the after parties. It was long before I even met (Y/N), so I decided ‘fuck it’ and slept with her a few times. The last time, we were...you know...doing the deed, and she suddenly tells me she loves me.”

Even though I had heard this story before, I couldn’t help but snicker as I heard him tell us again. “That will never not be funny to me.”

“What happened to the poor girl?” Brittany asked.

“Well, me - having some brain cells - went to her hotel room instead of bringing her to mine. So I just got up and left. Never saw her again. I’m pretty sure we have each other blocked on social media and everything.”

“None of my stories will ever measure up to Colson's,” I said. “I’m just an actress, I’m not a world famous rockstar with groupies and shit.”

“What’s your worst first ‘I love you’ then?” Brittany asked me.

“My ex before Colson, I planned this special date where I cooked us dinner, dressed up all fancy, bought lingerie to surprise him with and all. I told him I loved him for the first time over dinner and he broke up with me basically immediately afterwards, then left.”

“That’s cold!”

“It’s not as good as having a groupie tell you she loves you during sex.”

“You have plenty of interesting stories,” Colson said. “Your worst first date story is my favorite.”

Of course it was, because it was probably my most embarrassing story ever. I was going to kill him for bringing it up right now.

“What’s your worst first date story?” Brittany asked, leaning forward in her seat with her head resting on her hand.

I sighed, slightly annoyed that the story was brought up. “It was one of my first real dates. I was like...maybe 16 or 17, on the cusp of my fame so I wasn’t being followed by paparazzi or anything, luckily. This guy I had met about a month before the date had asked me out to this fancy restaurant on a first date, and I was so excited. I went and bought a new dress, did my hair and makeup, even shaved basically every inch of my body. I was so excited, and then the date came and...he was just...boring.”

Colson was covering his mouth to keep back his laughs and giggles, knowing what was about to come.

“We didn’t talk for the first 20 minutes of the date,” I continued. “I tried, but he just couldn’t keep a conversation. It took ordering our food for him to finally talk. Even then, he just talked about stuff I didn’t understand because he was an athlete and he counted his carbs to make sure he loaded them right, or whatever. Stupid shit.”

Brittany was absolutely engulfed in my story. “What did you do?”

“Well, I tried my best to stay throughout the whole date. I wanted to just up and leave so many times, but I figured that would be rude and, being young and naïve, I knew I didn’t want to be rude. So I toughed it out for as long as I could. It wasn’t until we had gotten our first course and he talked about himself for roughly another 20 minutes that I finally had enough and knew I couldn’t stay. So, I politely excused myself to the bathroom, where I found myself very fortunate to find that there was a window just above the toilet that was big enough that my small stature could wiggle out of it.”

I had Brittany absolutely hooked. She was literally on the edge of her seat, her eyes staring me down as I continued to tell my story. I felt my heartbeat picking up as I neared the most embarrassing part of my already awful date story. I wanted to end it there, to insist that was the worst part of the date, but I knew Colson wasn’t going to allow that.

“Unfortunately for me, the window wasn’t quite big enough for me to get through without some problems. So, I got up onto the toilet, I started to hoist myself out of the window, when suddenly my dress caught onto the latch to lock and unlock the window. I didn’t realize until too late, so I hurtle myself out of the window only to hear the fabric of my dress RIP loudly behind me. When I looked down, I had tore basically the bottom half of my super expensive dress off, which left me in just my skin colored tights with the underwear I had worn for the occasion being showed off for the world to me. To make matters worse, I didn’t bring my jacket to be able to cover myself up with.”

Colson could not contain his laughter any longer and finally began to laugh so hard that I could see tears forming in his eyes. Brittany covered her mouth in shock, but I could tell by the shaking of her shoulders that she was laughing, too.

“What did you do then?” she asked once she had composed herself enough to speak.

“I got what fabric I could reach and covered myself up the best I could. Borrowed a strangers cell to call my mom to come get me. I’ll tell you, the looks I got from that stranger and from the people around me were...interesting, to say the least. My mom got there just as the guy was exiting the restaurant, I guess finally realizing I had bailed on our botched date. I was so glad he never saw me like that. I’d probably be the subject of all his stories until the end of his days if I were. And I’m so glad I wasn’t famous enough to be tailed by paparazzi then or else my career would’ve been ruined before it even started.”

I could feel my face burning up with embarrassment as Colson and Brittany continued to laugh. It was truly the worst moment in my life, and I had yet to come to a point where I could look back and laugh at it. I knew it was such a hilarious story, but, until I could also find it that funny, I hated sharing it with anyone.

I got pretty quiet for the rest of our appearance. I only answered some questions from Brittany and told another story or two before the show finally ended. Brittany thanked us for being her guests that week and hugged us both, giving me an additional squeeze as she did so. I guess she felt a little sorry for me after I shared my story.

The ride back to Colson’s place started off quiet, before Colson finally spoke. “Are you mad at me?”

I looked up at him. “What? Of course not. Why would I be?”

“I made you tell that story.”

“You didn’t make me tell it. I could’ve said no.”

“But we both know Brittany and I would’ve begged you to tell it if you didn’t.”

He had a point. There was no way I was getting out of telling that first date story after Colson brought it up.

“I knew it embarrassed you, but I didn’t know how much until you got quiet around the end there. I feel like such a sack of shit for even bringing it up.’

I reached across to give his thigh a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t stress it too much, babe. It is a super embarrassing story, but it’s one of my better ones. I always said I’d write about it eventually when I got famous enough to write a memoir.”

Colson chuckled at my joke and took my hand in his. He raised it to his lips, his eyes still on the road, as his lips brushed against my knuckles.

“We should’ve told the story about our first date,” I said, watching Colson’s face for a reaction. I giggled when I got the one I wanted: Colson’s face cringing at the memory.

“No way. I want to forget that first first date ever happened. Our second date is the first date, we agreed on that.”

I giggled and continued to tease him about it as we pulled into his driveway, which earned me a seat on Colson’s lap once he put the car in park, and his long fingers tickling my sides until I was crying from laughter.

[llamagoddessofficial]

Got hit by my first wave of inspiration for a while, and decided to ride it out instead of fighting it. So, for anyone who wants it... have Mc’s first meeting with Zoo!Naga Skull. (Yes, the one that ended in kidnapping ;) )

Nervous was an understatement.

“Keep track of him at all times. Always make sure you can get to the door, never let him cut you off. Don’t underestimate him just because he’s blindfolded.”

You could feel your heart hammering in your chest so loudly it was getting hard to pay full attention to Maggie, the senior zoo staff member in front of you, hard to keep a grip on the large and heavy bucket of meat clenched tightly in one hand and the hooked feeding pole in the other. You weren’t even supposed to be doing this, you were too low down on the zoo staff ladder... you should’ve been feeding the little snakes or the herbivores, you should be years away from this level of care! The naga were already leagues above your pay grade, and now they wanted you to feed the biggest one of them all!?

I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be doing this. You cringed- but I can’t refuse, I need this job!

“Talk to him, move loudly, make sure he knows where you are because the last thing you want is to spook him. I know you’ve had good experiences with the other two naga but that doesn’t mean you should ever let your guard down, understand?”

“... Yes.” You said, voice barely above a whisper, grip sweaty on the feeding pole. You couldn’t help it, your eyes flicked down to her left hand- the one she didn’t have anymore, the one that had just a wrist stump remaining.

“... You’ll be fine. We’ll all be watching, if something does happen for some reason we can get in and help you.” She took on a slightly more comforting tone, noticing your line of sight. Her injury was the reason she wasn’t the one bringing the naga his food, given her senior position and superior experience. “I got this when I was young and cocky, and because I followed the safety protocol I lost a hand and not a neck. So long as you stick to the rules and don’t do anything stupid, you won’t have a problem with him. Ok?”

“A-are you sure I’m...”

“Yes, you’re ready. You’ve dealt with the other two.” She cut over you, turning you by the shoulder. “Now go, before Skull gets hungrier.”

And just like that, you were pushed through the door of the enclosure, that shut firmly behind you. The secondary door opened... and despite the fact that every part of you was cold and shaking, you had no choice but to go forward. As scared as you were, someone needed to get the naga fed... someone needed to go straight into the beast’s den.

... You stepped into the enclosure.

It was built to resemble a near-surface cave; the walls and floor were made of slightly uneven smoothed stone, with a few windowed ‘cracks’ in the fake stalactite ceiling providing enough daylight to see by. There were some interesting objects to provide a little enrichment, like ‘boulders’, patches of fake grass, a little filtered waterfall dribbling into a relatively shallow pool... and a small tunnel, leading to a den with no windows he could juuust about curl up in so he could have some privacy.

... Inside that den, you could see a hint of a steely blue-grey... scales.

... You sucked in a tiny breath through your nose, and stepped further forward, following the zoo protocol of tapping the metal end of the pole lightly against the bucket of food to let him know it was feeding time. It took a moment for there to be a reaction, but... slowly, surely, the mass of muscle resting inside the den began to shift.

Giant claws hooked over the stone edges of the den entrance, bone hands as big as your head... the thing about Red and Sans is they were very vocal naga, Sans regularly hissing and snarling and Red making curious rattling and purring sounds. But with Skull... there was nothing but the low sliding sound of scales against rock, that sounded long and oh-so heavy.

... He emerged, head moving into the light, vicious cranium crack and tight fitted black blindfold plain to see... with just his skeletal torso out he was already almost as big as you. A shot of panic doused your system and you had to clench your teeth together to stop yourself from crying, or dropping everything and bolting back through the door. The rest of him followed after; the long snake tail that made up over three quarters of his body length coiling behind him as he raised himself up, gathering like a loosened rope, thicker than you were wide... faded blue and littered with scars that just didn’t seem to catch the light in the same way the other two nagas did.

He was... huge. You knew this already, but there was something different about seeing him with nothing in the way.

... You had to swallow the terror again, no longer able to tap on the food bucket as your hands were shaking too much. I’m fine. I’m fine. The door is right behind me.

... He was keeping his distance from you, head turned downward slightly, facing in the direction of the bucket. A flash of blue around his mouth- his forked tongue flickering rapidly, which could either signal curiosity, hunger or both. The pounding in your chest became more intense.

“... H-hey, big guy.” You stammered, keeping your voice as gentle as possible, as low and soft as you could in order to not spook him. He reacted immediately, his head cocking a little, raising to face directly at you instead of the bucket as if making eye contact despite the blindfold- just get this over with, (y/n), just get this over with. “...  I-I’m... supposed to talk to you, to let you know where I am... talking worked with the other two, I... h-hope it works with you, too.”

You put the bucket on the ground, sliding a decently heavy chunk of the special treated naga-friendly meat onto it. Skull had a unique feeding hook; it was much longer than usual, slightly difficult to handle, but reinforced along the inside to facilitate easier feeding from a distance. You raised the pole with the hung meat and slid it slowly closer to him, keeping careful watch of the way his tongue would flicker toward the food... you were so ready to bolt. You just needed to get this done.

“I’m, uhm...” You felt like an idiot. You could feel all the other staff members watching. “The food’s on the hook. You probably know that already, but...”

... He moved forward and caught the chunk straight off the hook, swallowing it without any chewing or pausing, then going immediately back to sitting there, patiently, watching. Waiting for more. You brought the hook back, putting on another piece, moving it toward him again... careful to keep hold on the pole despite your sweaty palms.

... He was eating as quickly as your unpractised snail-pace would allow, but most notably.. without issue. You finally felt a droplet of relief in the sea of fear; he was eating normally, he wasn’t being aggressive or trying to approach... this was going pretty well, for your first time feeding the moodiest naga in the zoo.

“... There we go. Good, this is going good. Please don’t eat me.” You half-joked, repeating the process. Retract pole, hook meat, offer it out. Starting to get into a rhythm. “... I hope you’re always this relaxed with me. That would be really helpful.”

He took the meat again, obediently. You let out a tiny sigh; the more he just did what he was supposed to, the calmer and more comfortable you felt. He’d probably learned by now that it was just best to get the food offered, instead of biting the hand that was feeding him.

... Or biting it off.

“... Everyone’s watching. I think they’re waiting for me to mess up. Do something dumb and get kicked out.” You mumbled. You felt... surprisingly not-awkward? Sometimes, when you spoke to the animals, you felt weird because they clearly didn’t care... but in this case, you got a strange feeling from the way his head would twitch and follow you despite the meat, how his tongue would flicker only when you’d stopped talking. It felt like he was... actually listening?

Besides. Nobody could fault you for talking to the naga to keep it calm and not-murderous as you passed him food from as large a distance as possible, right? If it worked, it worked, and you kept your limbs.

“... There we go.” You said, as you passed him the last piece- you then tapped the side of the empty bucket with the hook like you’d been told to, so he’d hear the hollow sound and understand there was no more food, before you picked it up again. You felt... a lot less terrified? Still nervous, but not like you were about to throw up. 

“... Uhm... thank you.” Your voice was still pretty small. “For... being calm. I appreciate it.”

... He stayed where he was. You felt, again, like he was watching you, despite him having no vision.

...

You took a step back, ready to go back through the door and throw up... but as soon as your foot sounded against the stone floor...

Everything about him changed. 

His lips and teeth parted... and the most powerful hiss you’d ever heard filtered out, filling the room, tearing through the air and right through your body. Like someone had set off a huge firework but it just kept hissing and hissing and hissing, deep and loud and intertwined with an open-mouthed growl, it echoed off the walls and shook everything inside. It was as if someone had flipped a switch in his head, something inside him had snapped; his shoulders rose, tail beginning to move across the floor and rearrange itself. It sounded like... a warning.

You froze, heart dropping into your stomach, all the warmth and colour draining from your face.

...Oh no.

... The hissing stopped, but he kept his new position. He’d stopped in a more aggressive, coiled posture like a tightened spring, tongue now flickering constantly.

...

“... Maggie.” You said, voice cracking, essentially calling for help. Your eyes were locked onto him, you couldn’t remember any of the safety protocols for aggressive naga, every part of you was petrified, you couldn’t feel your hands or toes you could only feel the pounding in your own head. You were afraid to blink- it was going TOO well, I’ve used up my luck, it’s all gonna go wrong now!

“... Okay, just relax.” You heard her voice over the exhibit speaker system but you daren’t turn your head away to look at where she was. “He probably just doesn’t trust you yet, and is getting possessive over food he thinks might still be in the bucket. Okay? Use the pole to push the bucket toward him.”

You swallowed, following her advice; you set the bucket down without taking your gaze off him as if your feet were glued to the earth, and then used the end of the pole to push the bucket across the floor. It made an ugly scraping/rattling sound as it moved.

... He wasn’t even turning toward it. He wasn’t paying attention to it. His attention seemed steadfastly on you, if his head direction was any way to tell. You were sweating, your neck hairs were prickling.

“Alright. Now back away slowly.”

... One step back.

He immediately started hissing again, even louder this time, with deafening aggravation... he lowered his head.

A strike position.

You didn’t hear Maggie’s shout over the speaker system, you could hear nothing but your heart and his hissing. The rabbit-like urge to RUN overtook your whole body, something in you shattered, and you staggered backward with the intent to turn and dive for the door.

... The speed at which he crossed the entire enclosure would’ve been incredible in any other circumstance. 

He lurched with all the power readied in the wound muscles in his tail, striking forward so quickly it was like he vanished from his spot, and suddenly you were screaming as the pole was knocked out of your hands. Suddenly something huge and hard was gripping you and your clothes and your legs went out from under you, the world was dark and turning and you brought your hands up over your head in an instinctive defensive posture, you faintly heard the sound of dozens of voices shouting out in synchrony but everything was ringing, the heels of your boots were dragging so quickly across the floor it felt like the friction was going to burn through them and kicking your legs into nothingness as a pathetic attempt at attack/escape did genuinely nothing, you cried out...

... And then just like that, your body came to a halt; you’d stopped moving.

You opened your eyes, forcing in deep terrified breaths, finding yourself in almost total darkness and taking only a few milliseconds to realise you were inside his den. It was so cramped and the floor and walls were moving, why were they moving, you put out a hand to try and steady yourself or get to your feet...

...

That wasn’t the floor or walls. Your hand landed on smooth, hard scales.

You were on him. You were on his coiled tail.

You made a sound you could only describe as a broken whimper-cry of fear and tried to sit up and get some control, but it was almost impossible as he was still moving, his body shifting and writhing underneath you and forcing you to only sink deeper into his scales, deeper into his hold. Something wound around you, starting from your chest and moving down to your knees, binding your legs together- and the scariest part was that you could feel the power as he shifted, you could feel the strength behind the scales when they pressed against you. He was a living muscle, and with little more than a flex he could squeeze, and you’d go squish.

That’s what’s going to happen. He’s going to constrict me to death! Your breathing was getting so fast your chest was heaving, you tried to push the coils on your middle but it was like pushing the unmoving floor, you were getting dizzy with panic, you started to beat them with your fists, S-someone help me-!

His face came into view. Hovering over you, only just silhouetted by the light creeping into the entrance of the den.

... Once again, everything in your body just... stopped. 

All thought, all movement, everything froze, as you stared up at him with wide eyes.

... He’d removed his own blindfold. A bright, blood red ring was gazing down at you... fuzzy around the edges, the hole in the centre nothing but a dot.

... His own movements were slowing, as he apparently settled on the position he was in. You were almost horizontal, your head lifted up ever-so-slightly, everything lower than your chest totally bound and covered and crushed under more of his body. He was so close.

...

He was warm. Like summer’s day. And he was... just staring.

...

You could hear absolute havoc breaking outside of his den. But even so, your breathing was slowing... you were calming, despite it all. Something about his eye... the way he was hanging his head... how his tongue just ever-so-slightly peeked out of his mouth, as if only curious...

... How he hadn’t killed you yet. He wasn’t squeezing. You felt so, so very tiny, trapped in the coils of a giant naga...

Why hasn’t he...?

...

A single, sharp phalange moved over to your face. You naturally flinched leaned away at the sight of such huge claws coming close, sucking in a breath... and as soon as you did, he... paused? He took a moment, with his your-head-sized hand just hanging there... 

... Like he was giving you a second? He held your eye.

... When he started moving again, he moved so slowly. So gently... and he turned the hand over, brushing the back of his thick knuckle across your cheek with a feather-light touch. His hands were warm, too.

...

It was a like a cat, the way his eyelight widened, blowing to fill his whole socket.

He seemed to lose whatever self control was making him move slowly, and instead his massive head leant in, before you could so much as muster the energy or presence of mind to squeak he pressed his face flush against the side of yours with his teeth just under your ear. Instead you just let in another tiny breath of shock and felt a shiver travel across the whole length of your body- he was nuzzling, with an unmistakable joy, parts of his tail moving ever-so-slightly like he just couldn’t contain himself. In amongst the gleeful nuzzling he took a few inquisitive breaths in your hair, his tongue flickering out and surprising you with how ticklish it was- you brought your shoulder up in defence but he seemed to like that tiny reaction and did it again, chasing your sensitive spots.

“G- ah, stop!” You said, but less out of fear and more out of ticklishness- you couldn’t get away from him, it was like being fussed by a giant overly affectionate puppy. He was breathing right down your ear, and his breath and tongue made everything prickle, you tried to put your hands over your neck but he wasn’t having it. “... G-guys? Guys, are you out there?!”

You distinctly heard someone mutter ‘oh my God, she’s alive’, before a sharp “Play dead! We’re coming to get you!” sounded pretty close to the den. 

... You saw Skull’s reaction- and by saw, you meant heard and felt. As soon as he seemed to realise they were approaching the entrance to his hide, he stopped nuzzling, face still against your neck... and a slow, upset snarl began to filter out of his chest, and seeing as you were surrounded by him it was deep and so close it was vibrating your insides. At the same time, his snake body shifted and started to tighten, slowly moving to cover you more, bring you in further into his coils... trap you underneath.

“N-no, no!” You said, panic at possibly being constricted to death rearing its head again. “Don’t come any closer without sedatives, please!”

“... What the hell’s going on in there?!”

“H-he’s just... he’s just got me wrapped up.” You stammered, swallowing, wishing you could see them instead of the den ceiling right now; your voice had a strange, echoing quality inside the small space. “I-I can’t move. When you come closer it agitates him and he squeezes. Don’t come closer. Please just go get sedatives.”

“... Are you sure you’re okay in there?” You could hear them backing up, thank fuck. And he could definitely hear them too, noticeably relaxing. “It’s gonna take us a while to get anything strong enough for him.”

... Skull let out a strange, deathly soft hiss, apparently really liking your hair... so quiet, only the two of you could hear it. His scales were warm, and although you were trapped, it almost felt like he’d deliberately trapped you in this reclined position in order to make sure you were comfortable in his grip.

...

“Y-yeah, I... I think I’m fine for now. Just please don’t take too long.”

[fulltimemoaner]

Just something cute like Childe and Zhongli are crushing on each other but they think the other doesn't share their feelings so both of them are being dumd and trying very hard to hide their feelings. Meanwhile, everyone knows they're in love with each other.

Zhongli knows he is being irrational, there is nothing in the world that could possibly bind an adeptus and a human together, nothing short of disaster and broken hearts, anyways. Of course, there are adepti that could argue with his stance, such as the law consultant Yanfei, who is the very product of such a connection. However, the vast difference between a mere law consultant an ex archon is omnipresent in his mind, and so is the fact that he is more than five thousand years older than a certain troublemaker. When he sips his painstakingly prepared tea, his face sours, the leaves leaving a bitter tinge on his tongue, over-boiled and somewhat stale. There went six hours of wasted kitchen labour, all due to his own knack for overthinking and contemplating. He had all the time in the world, after all, to drown in his own musings, even if Hu Tao was still yelling at him to do his duties and other earthly errands. No, Zhongli didn’t look down on those, quite the opposite. He had taken to loving the simple life of the human Zhongli, without the hassles of being Morax. Humanity, however, came with its cons, such as attraction and irrationality. Again, it wasn’t like he hadn’t loved as an Adeptus, madly so, perhaps, but this wasn’t the time for him to be arguing with himself. He simply had to put his desires on a leash. He took another sip of bitter tea.

There was no way Ajax liked him back, after all. He was young, a few millennia so, (yes, he isn’t about to stop repeating that to himself) and strong, quick witted, humorous, loud, adventurous- Everything that Zhongli had lost in the past thousand years of being Morax. A heavy sigh leaves his lips and he leans his chin into the inside of his palm. In times like these, it’s hard not to miss Jueyun Karst and the company of his kind, it’s in times like these when he is filled with confusion and lack of understanding involving the humans he so greatly adores. He wonders if the loss of his Gnosis led to the loss of some of the divine, whether it brought him closer to the earthly beings, which was why he found his heart squeezing so hard at the thought of ginger hair and aquamarine eyes.

A loud thud shakes Zhongli out of his reverie, the sliding door of the Wangsheng Funeral parlour slamming open to reveal Hu Tao’s gleaming eyes, as well as a very handsome yet petrified Snezhnayan. “Zhongli!” The woman coos, her hand holding an iron grip on the Harbinger’s wrist. “Someone needs your assistance.”

“Tartaglia.” Zhongli clears his throat, easing into his front of apathy despite his hammering heartbeat.

“Ah, Mr. Zhongli.” Childe laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head in that telltale way that radiated tides of awkwardness that would put his elemental abilities to shame. “There is a death within the Fatui,” He’s lying. No one has died under his watch. “And we need to bury him, it’s too hot to transport him back to Snezhnaya as it is.” His stuttering voice is probably giving him out, but Hu Tao elbows his ribs so hard he almost gasps.

“Ah, what a tragedy!” The parlour owner throws a hand over her eyes. “Such honoured guests suffering a loss like that! Zhongli, this calls for your assistance. I am so busy and I’m afraid my knowledge in Snezhnayan burial customs is vastly limited, so feel free to take this on!” She gives Zhongli the most suspicious thumbs up known to mankind and sticks her tongue out, and just like she always comes and goes, she practically evaporates out of the room.

Childe is sweating. He is staring at Zhongli with wide eyes and a suspicious tingle in his stomach, a playback of Scaramouche’s words rolling in his brain like a jammed tape.

“Go short your stupid crush out. Don’t show your face in the Northern Bank until you are ready to act normal, fucking idiot. You’re slowing us down, and by the Tsaritsa, I’m not above ratting you out and having you demoted to an errand boy.”

Childe almost cringes at the memory of the aggression in the Sixth Harbinger’s voice. He is going to kill him. Childe Tartaglia Ajax is a massive coward, and he is about to be murdered by his superior because he has a crush on a six thousand year old adeptus that is too good for him and wouldn’t bat-

“How did they die?”

Childe’s brain is like a train about to derail. Zhongli is up now, boiling some tea that smells suspiciously much like Jasmine, just like Ajax prefers it. If he tries to do as much as think of a single thing, all he can do is visualise Zhongli’s golden eyes gleaming underneath the lanterns of that odd Liyuan festival that Childe did not exactly comprehend, be it for his lack of interest at the time, or his complete concentration on that rich voice that kept whispering tales to him about the lanterns and the dead and the local myths.

“There is no one dead.” Childe blurts out, now or never. To be frank, he is absolutely shitting it. This is harder than fighting in the Abyss, worse than getting his ass kicked repeatedly by Traveller and that flying chicken that followed him around all the time-

“I seem to have misunderstood.” Zhongli watches him confusedly, teapot hanging forgotten on one hand. Childe can almost visualise him making that very same tea in his home in Snezhnaya, with the raging blizzards going strong outside, his soothing voice telling tales of dragons and giant monsters to his baby siblings to entertain them for a lack of anything better to do in the catastrophic winter. “You do not need my assistance?”

“No. I mean, yes, but not in that way.” Childe grunts, rubbing his eyes with both hands, stood ten feet away from Zhongli because he simply can’t stand the way his body burns when their shoulders brush together. The ex archon continues to look completely lost, his lips slightly open and his brows furrowed in his weak attempt to grasp the situation. Childe is stubborn, ridiculously brave at most instances, but above all, he is an idiot. And like an idiot, he says: “Have you ever kissed a Snezhnayan?”

Zhongli stills, blinking stupidly, unable to tell whether this was another one of the Harbinger’s jokes that their generational and cultural gap didn’t allow him to understand. He places the teapot down. “Excuse me?”

Childe wants to smack himself across the face. He forces out a loud laugh. “No, that was a joke!” He can feel the hairs on the side of his head sticking to his face. If the Abyss could swallow him again, now was the time. “What I mean is…” Childe takes in a deep breath. “Will you go out on a date with me?”

Zhongli stares at the wall across him, way past Ajax, into the eyes of some unseen divine force that is absolutely messing with him right then. “Did Hu Tao put you up to this?” After all, she always told him he needed to get laid, but he never understood where exactly he was supposed to be reclining. Mortal language had taken to weird expressions over the centuries.

“No, God, no,” Childe shakes his hands defensively. “Alright, mr. Zhongli, I’m so into you I can’t sleep at night, and I have been like that since I first saw you walking by Wanmin Restaurant, when you were trying some local delicacy and doing your ridiculous, bourgeoise critique on the authenticity of the flavours-” Childe goes quiet, his rant dying amidst its blooming as he watched Zhongli’s eyes soften and his brows tense, an unmistakable redness spreading over the adeptus’ face. “Mr. Zhongli?”

“Ajax, stop.” Zhongli hasn’t felt this flustered in thousands of years. He isn’t sure what it is about this human that is so awfully endearing, but it’s making him sear and liquify from the inside. “I’ll go out with you. We need to discuss the place and time, as well as the attire and the mood of the overall meeting, since leaving things unclear leads to misunderstandings that can not be resolved without-”

Ajax’s smile is stretching so wide across his face that he fears it’s going to split, a sudden ego boost booming so hard into his chest that he feels like he could fight the entire Fatui army and win. He takes a few steps forward and puts his hands on the table in front of the ex archon, hovering slightly above him. “Leave it to me.” He leans in closer and Zhongli can smell the exotic perfume on his skin. “There’s only one question left.”

“What?” Zhongli treads carefully, his jaw setting when a gloved hand finds his chin and tips his head back, fixing their gazes together.

“Have you ever kissed a Snezhnayan?”

[shootingstarwritings]

Eight Pleas on a Starry Night

Eight Cups a Day

Eight Memories a Minute

All that this creature knew from the moment of its "birth," was to consume. The moment it first began to understand "itself" and "the world," it absorbed whatever was in front of it. Just as babes from the womb yearn for their mother's womb, these slimes feast upon segments of their host's brains. There was no thought and no malice behind; instead, it was pure instinct. Consume and assimilate as much as the host's brain would allow until complete takeover.

The moment this creature, now male due to his host, opened his eyes, he saw the sight of another looking at him with emotion the creature couldn't quite understand just yet. However, through pure instinct and the slight connection they shared as a species, he knew that this was his brother. “Ah, hello,” he greeted with pure innocence.

“H-Hey,” his brother responded, sounding not unlike the people the creature saw in his host’s memories. How skillful was he at hiding amongst these humans? “D-Do you know who I am? Do you know who you are? What’s your name?” Now, he spoke aggressively, but alongside another set of emotions.

Not wanting to disappoint his brother, the creature said, “I do not recall,” with complete assurance. “I seem to be quite adept at assimilating my host’s memories, unfortunately. It looks as though I cannot be a unit that can infiltrate any of these people.”

His brother shut his eyes, as though he had swallowed something harsh, before saying, “You are Nolan. Your name is Nolan.”

“Nolan. Understood.”

“And I’m F-Forde. My name is Forde.” Forde took a deep breath, his hand brushing up against Nolan’s. Then, he intertwined their fingers together. “Do you really not remember me? When we looked at the stars together?"

Nolan shook his head. “Am I supposed to? I am sorry if I am not up to your standards, brother.” Squeezing Forde’s hand—was it his host’s natural response?—Nolan said, “I will do better in the future. Do not worry.”

Forde nodded as he drew his hand back to his chest. There was an emotion on Forde’s face that Nolan did not recognize, so he ignored it.

The creature inside of Alan stared up at the summer night. He had a fleeting thought of the few stars that shined despite the town's light pollution and wondered if that was where he and his kin came from. However, he quickly dismissed that line of thought. It was not important for their invasion, so it was unnecessary. He was reeling from these useless thoughts that continued to plague him ever since the day he emerged from the sea.

Most of his brothers had perished when he had managed to infect Forde. He could only convert one person and implant his sole offspring before his brothers, unable to speak to him and cry for help, dried up. All he could do now was ignore any sort of sentimentalism that burdened him and press on forward.

“I am an invader,” the invader said to himself, floating naked on the surface of the pool. “Then, why do I have these regrets?”

Regret was a sentiment that his host, Alan, was familiar with. Words left unsaid, arguments he couldn't take back, and a life that was snuffed due to a misunderstanding. The list was long but also faded. By now, the invader had engulfed most of Alan's memories, so there was very little he could recall with any clarity. All he could see was a series of faded images.

It mattered little, the invader decided. The lingering feelings didn’t matter. All that was important was to breed and infect. That was the final purpose they had.

“Alan, there’s someone at the door.”

Ah, that was unexpected. Alan swam to the edge of the pool and pulled himself out. “Do you know who it is, brother?”

He nodded. “It’s your friend—or rather, it’s your host’s friend,” said Forde. “He texted you, and I responded, and one thing left to another...” he said, nonchalantly while pointing his thumb to the front of the house. “And now he’s here. You gonna…?”

“I’ll have to infect him,” said the invader as he dried himself off. “There’s nothing else that can be done.”

“Right, well Nolan is by the door if you need any assistance.”

The invader raised an eyebrow. “Will you not help me?”

“I'm sorta tired if we're being honest. Maybe some other time?" Forde said with a shrug and a grin.

The invader narrowed his eyes but didn't say anything in response. He walked past Forde, but stopped right before crossing the doorway. “You are my offspring, and yet you are so different from your brother and myself. Why is that?” There was far too much personality, whether from the host or from the possessor itself. It was odd.

Forde’s gaze grew distant. “I wonder why myself,” he muttered. “But never mind that. Your friend’s in the front, and Nolan’s in position to help you infect him.”

“And your family? The ones who own this home?”

“Won’t be back until Monday. We’ve got plenty of time.”

The invader had suspicions rise, but he pushed them to the back of his mind. There were more pressing matters to attend to. “Please, watch over your siblings.” The invader didn’t wait for a response. He processed the information carefully and he dried off and dressed.

“Alan, hey!” Forde was right. A friend of Alan, a great deal younger—about middle-aged—stood in front of the doorway. The invader could not access much of Alan's memories, so the man was a stranger to him. However, he was knowledgeable enough to recognize the glint in the man's eyes.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Came as soon as I could,” the man said, smiling brightly as he spoke to Alan. “Said you needed my help? Say, what’s this place anyway? How come you’re here?” With narrowed eyes, the man leaned in and whispered, “Ain’t that kid a li’l too young for you? Seems kinda weird if you ask me.”

Alan shook his head. “He’s a family friend. Said he needed help moving a couch. Could you help me?”

The suspicion in the man’s eyes cleared, and he eagerly nodded. “Sure! I’ll give you hand. Lead the way.”

[LINE BREAK]

Forde was panting by the time he entered the house again. What he walked into didn’t surprise him, but he still had to fight the urge to gag.

“Hello, nngg, Forde!” Nolan greeted him as he fucked Alan’s convulsing friend. “This one has almost finished his conversion. Would you like to assist me?"

“I think I’ll pass,” Forde said, grimacing. His eyes lingered on the man before turning over to the sleeping Alan on the couch. “Alan’s asleep?”

“Yes, mmm. He-fuck—s-said creating so many offspring has left him exhausted. Will probably sleep until the party tomorrow.”

The party…

Forde took a deep breath, trying to calm his breathing. “Nolan, when you’re… finished, meet me in my room, all right?”

“Which—“

“The one closest to the bathroom. You can’t miss it.”

“Right."

Forde lied back on his bed, attempting to erase the image of Nolan happily plowing another man’s ass out of his head. There was no doubt that what he had seen was the truth, but it carried such wrongness to it that he couldn’t help to wind back to it. Nothing about Nolan seemed to have remained. The chipper friendliness and eagerness to please was something that would have disgusted Nolan and now it disgusted Forde. Not even the memories were there. At most, the one possessing Nolan could remember some family members, last name, and his street address.

Everything else, including that night under the stars, was gone.

“Is this my punishment?” asked Forde, unsure if God would answer the pleas of a parasite. “Is this what I deserve for killing Forde?" That sin would remain with him for the rest of his life. It didn't matter if he believed he was Forde and inherited the name, the body, and the memories, the original was gone. If Forde ever left this body, it would remain a hollow husk. The organs would function, but there would be no brain activity. It would be no different than a vegetable.

Yet, Forde could not deny his greedy nature—as a parasite and a man. I still want to be happy, he thought. God, Alan, and the world itself can shame and hate me for it, but I still want to live a happy life. He knew how shameless that desire was, but did not care. The pain and pleasure that he has known in his short time as a human only stroked the hungry flames that burned in his heart.

The door opened, and Nolan walked in, still naked. “I am here, brother,” he announced, as though it wasn’t obvious.

Forde drew the sheets back and scooted to the side of the bed. “Close the door, and lie with me.”

“Hmm? Will we be sleeping on the same bed?”

“Yeah. Keep me company for tonight, will ya?”

“I see no reason to decline.” Without any shame, Nolan lied right next Forde. Their bare shoulders were touching, but only one of them understood the implications,

“Nolan, do you remember what happened when we went camping that night?”

“I do not.”

“Yeah, I figured,” said Forde, preparing himself. His hand was trembling, and he was sweating all over. Why couldn’t he calm himself? “Could you… Could you do me a favor, br-brother…?” When Nolan said yes, Forde nearly sobbed. After a deep, uneven breath, he said, “Please, gather yourself in your host’s mouth. I have to show you something.”

Unquestionably, Nolan did so. He opened his mouth, the blue slime lying on top of his tongue. Even in that form, he looked completely innocent.

Forde ripped over the packet of salt and poured it on his own tongue, cringing from the taste. Then, he leaned over and kissed Nolan’s lips before swiftly drawing back, the aftertaste of the salt lingering in his now empty mouth. The effect was immediate.

Nolan’s body began to violently convulse. “Wh-What did you d-do?!” Nolan cried out, spitting out the salt and now bits of foam. “Br-Brother?!” His eyes rolled to the back of his head and spat out more and more foam—the remains of his desiccated body. Forde shut his eyes and covered his ears.

Just like snails and slugs, their species would dry out when their real forms were exposed to concentrated amounts of salt due to osmosis. Even though they originated from the ocean, the intense amount of salt would still kill them. It only due to Forde’s biology degree that he could figure that out. And because of that, he knew that there was a chance Alan didn’t know that, either. This was his only weapon… the only thing he had to stop the invasion.

And yet…

Forde jumped as Nolan grabbed his arm in desperation. He opened his eyes and the image burned itself into his memory. He was dying. Nolan, the slime, whatever, was dying. Because of him. Because of what Forde did. He’s just a parasite, a murderer, Forde kept thinking as the convulsing began to cease. “I had to, I had to...” he kept muttering to himself, even as tears trailed down his cheeks.

He was a murderer just like me.

Now, he was staring at Nolan’s still-breathing body. There was no life in his eyes, but his chest still rose and fell, and his mouth was still agape. The slime, his brother, was gone. And Nolan was gone too. Two more lives that Forde had snuffed out, and tomorrow he would have to do it again.

He tried to smile. “Nolan...” he said, embracing the brain-dead husk. “Nolan, Nolan… Nolan… I love you,” he said, caressing Nolan’s unmoving face. “I saved you, I did it… you’re okay now.” Forde pressed his face on Nolan’s left pectoral. His heart continued to beat despite how empty it was. “You’re free, you’re okay. I k-killed the parasite, I did it for you…! So, you’ll forgive me, right?” There was no response, no matter how much Forde pleaded. However, he continued. "Please, please tell me you'll forgive me. You and Forde will forgive me, right? Please, please, for the love of God, please help me...”

Neither God nor Nolan answered him that night.

[5uptic]

crewfu: fanfic spotlight!

We work together by Anonymous (5up & DK, unrated, gen | 248 words)

Summary: One likes plants and baking, the other loves to create and design video games. They stay up and create monstrosities together, it's their fun, it's their favourite game. Aka a 5up and Dk roommate au!

No matter how life tangles, I’m still here with you. by hungryandsleepy (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 279 words)

Summary: 5up has been working so hard on his new map, and of course, he needs someone to give him a motivation to go to sleep.

objectively pretty by vesque (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 462 words)

Summary: steve is drunk. he's pretty sure 5up is too. that doesn't mean being called pretty is any less momentuous.

you plus me by mangoedges (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 489 words)

Summary: 5up and Steve meet.

he said to me by mangoedges (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 656 words)

Summary: 5up and Steve share a moment.

by the snowmen by mangoedges (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 670 words)

Summary: Steve has a moment when it's all over.

today you got to know me (a little bit too slowly) by runninohhoney (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 675 words)

Summary: Steve lights up a cigarette. 5up doesn't smoke.

what would it take by mangoedges (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 787 words)

Summary: It's Steve's first mission. He hecks up. Or does he?

sorta cute by floweruru (5up/Steve, unrated, m/m | 822 words)

Summary: ‘I wouldn’t do that,’ he said. ‘That’s just disrespectful,’ he said. Yet there was 5up, crushed like a can in Steve’s embrace, feebly kicking at nothing as his feet leave the pavement.

i was gonna kill u, but ur kinda cute?? by Cthulhuer (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: Steve is a mess and 5up is worse.

I hear a Symphony by AwkwardAce (5up/Fundy, unrated, m/m | 1.1k words)

Summary: He exhaled until his lungs ached for air, fingers twitching as he opted to remove the sleek white gloves he wore in a feeble effort to soothe himself. It didn’t work. He wrung his trembling hands together as his eyes raked down the worn leather case taking in the doodles- some etched some drawn- across the faded surface. He snapped the buckles open and his breath hitched, catching in his already tight throat. For a moment the world span, his head throbbed and he wanted nothing more than to run and hide. 5up breathed out slowly, shakily.

staring by lytriis (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.1k words)

Summary: steve asks 5up out. 5up doesn’t know how to respond.

and it's four am, and yet, you're here by vesque (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1.2k words)

Summary: in which steve shows up at 5up's house, in the middle of the night, completely spontaneously

more than this by mangoedges (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.2k words)

Summary: Steve catches 5up venting.

3:15 by vesque (5up/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1.2k words)

Summary: Steve tries to guess Five's name. It's much more difficult than he anticipated.

things were different by fourpebbles (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.5k words)

Summary: His eyes circled around to his friends, Kimi and Janet engaging in pleasant comversation, sleepy and becoming increasingly more sober. He looked, finally, across him, and caught Dumbdog staring at him. What now bro, what did this guy want. small talk, turns into not small talk, then there's no talk

Once Upon A Dream by SmearedWords (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.5k words)

Summary: 5up looks ethereal, while Steve is struggling to breathe. "You're not real either." Or: Steve has a crush and a nightmare in three parts, 5up is tired, the crew life is hard and Polus sucks.

the ones you love will call you back by homeward_bound (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.8k words)

Summary: stevesuptic: dude, is it weird that i miss vegas   DumbDog: No? I do too.   stevesuptic: okay [steve misses vegas and apollo. they talk about it]

cough it out by cj__writes (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2k words)

Summary: Apollo thinks that Steve must be well and truly gone, at this point, because he giggles, like Apollo’s just told a particularly funny joke. He looks Apollo right in the eye and asks, “Do you trust me?” “Absolutely not.”

ivy by Secular_Czar (5up/Steve, teen rating, gen | 2.1k words)

Summary: It might be a sad day, in general, but Steve isn't about to let it get to him. His friends won't ever let him wallow either.

The Colosseum by WhenTheFogClears (general rating, gen | 2.1k words)

Summary: Five squinted, looking at the colosseum intensely. He thinks Apollo was latched onto the sphinx’s shoulder, fur matted with blood. Janet was slumped against a column, probably out, with Kimi whose bow was snapped in two, her leg twisted at an odd angle. DK was in the corner trying to cast various supporting hexes and charms with a broken arm, whilst Hafu was dragging a heavily bandaged Steve away. or 5up slaughters a cat

Oneshots :) by woofles1990 (5up/Fundy, 5up/Steve, teen rating, multi | 2.5k words, oneshot collection)

Summary: Just a bunch of MCYT/Among Us oneshots, mainly featuring 5up's crew because yes :)

the adventures of 5up and steve staying up late because they're under 30 by 5280ft (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.5k words)

Summary: “The night is young!” Steve yells at the ceiling, throwing his hands up in the air. “Take advantage of it! Commit crimes! Fuck hoes!” Five catches his hands in the air and laughs. “You wish you had hoes.”

unreasonably in love by cj__writes (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.6k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: "It was like pieces of a puzzle, everything coming together. And now, here they are, standing in their apartment, which looks more like a hollow shell than a home, filled solely with scattered boxes and the minuscule amount of furniture that they brought with them to Vegas." Or: what happens after Apollo and Steve move in together.

cant be love by fourpebbles (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 3.5 words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: He had chuckled to himself, he felt so stupid. Who in their fucking minds names a playlist 'sugr?', he thought, internally cringing. A story where a Steve meets an Apollo, and some things happen.

Somewhere in the darkness, us together for a while by tumtummeke (Apollo & Kimi & Steve, teen rating, gen | 3.6k words)

Summary: Apollo worries about Steve. Steve breaks his vape pen. Kimi plays power washer. Self-indulgent angst, with a generous helping of friendship and cuddles.

odyssey by 5280ft (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 23k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: "First you will come to the Sirens who enchant all who come near them. If any one unwarily draws in too close and hears the singing of the Sirens...they warble him to death with the sweetness of their song. Therefore pass these Sirens by and stop your men's ears with wax that none of them may hear." -Homer, The Odyssey

Also: SilverSprinklez10‘s yupwaves collection.

Summary: This is a Harry Potter AU based on the characters/personas of the youtubers/streamers.

FAQ:

Wait what is this: pretty straight to the point! i’ll regularly share crewfu-related fanfictions to this blog :)

How regularly is “regularly”?: great question! LOL. it depends on the flow of fanfics that get uploaded, which i do not have any control over, but i’m looking forward to do this twice a month. after all, it’s only me doing this and i often run on a tight schedule.

What’s the format like?:

[title of fic with link] by [author of the fic with link] ([main pairing(s), if there is one/multiple], [fic rating: eg, general rating], [relationship: eg, m/m] | [word count in k] ([added prompt to specify if it’s complete or not)])

Summary: [summary provided by the author. if it doesn’t have a summary, a “No summary” prompt will be put instead]

(What does WIP mean again?): Work In Progress :)

Why are you doing this?: from the beginning, my blog has hosted conversations about RPF (real people fiction) and crewfu pairings. this has evolved into people sending me updates about certain fics in the crewfu tags every now and then, but i wanna take the next step and just do these things myself. after all, i’m already lurking in the tags often to see the fics that get posted. as someone who is both a writer and a reader, i wanna appreciate fanfic writers and help out other people that want to read fanfic and consume more fandom content!

Will it be AO3 only?: well, ao3 has a very helpful tag system that makes finding fics incredibly easy, as well as allowing people with no accounts to like and comment on fics, so that’s the site i will personally look in for fanworks. but if there are any fics you’ve written or liked in any other platforms, such as wattpad, you can always contact me through my inbox (send an ask or a dm!), and i’ll make sure to include for the next fanfic spotlight :)

Does it mean you won’t reply to fic asks anymore?: yeah, i guess. since i’ll be doing the searching myself it seems counterproductive. but if i ever skip a fic or again, it’s in another platform, or you’ve posted/read the fic a while ago and you want to get more traction on it, hit me up and i’ll take it into consideration!

Will you read every single one of the fics on your list?: oh no. again, i run on a tight schedule, and also i have my own taste when it comes to fics. i won’t be reviewing fics or any of the sort, and my intention extends to simply sharing these fics to this page so people will have easier access to them :) that’s where ao3 tagging becomes SUPER useful!!!

So what’s the criteria for the way you’ll sort out the fics in your list?: word count, going from lowest to highest. in case of fics in other platforms, i guess i’ll put them at the top of the list. i’ll also be looking for fairly recent fics, so let me know if you want any old-ish fic to be included.

I see you talking mostly about 5up/Steve and Steve/Apollo. Can I still send/see other crewfu fics?: why yes absolutely! my goal is to push every fic which heavily features regular crewfu characters - 5uptic and supdog just happen to be very popular pairings. so, to give you a list: core 4 (5up, hafu, dk, steve), apollo, aipha, annie, janet, kimi, ellum, koji... you know the drill. it doesn’t have to be centered on a relationship, or about 5up in specific, etc. my only requirement is that any of the previously mentioned members are a central part of the fic or are HEAVILY featured in it (sorry, minecraft fics with 50+ tags who only mention 5up as an afterthought won’t make the cut :/).

Isn’t shipping Bad™?: well, it’s a little more nuanced than that. i will go out of my way to discourage and shame people who often violate CCs’ boundaries by acting like so and so has a crush on this person, or that this and that are Actually Into Each Other or secretly dating. any sort of tinhat bullshit is a big nono (think larries). but i run on the assumption that people who write rpf understand that what they’re doing is simply write a completely fictional story using real life personalities, and understand the boundaries necessary to do it - aka they’re not tinhats, they understand they can’t assume everything about CCs’ thoughts and personalities, they understand that what they’re writing is strictly fiction, they keep these works only in fandom circles, etc. (but again, it’s only one me doing this, so please be kind if i don’t happen to know that this person is Actually a tinhat or whatever).

show fic: NO. (seriously. i don’t feel comfortable putting my ao3 account out there. please respect my privacy on these trying times <3)

I REALLY don’t care about your rpf/fic talk: fair! i’ll be tagging every single one of these posts as “fanfic spotlight”, so just mute the tag using tumblr settings so you’ll never have to look at these! likewise, you can follow the tag if you want to keep up with it, or search it on my blog to look at the other entries you might have missed (but this is the first one! lol).

Hey, my fic is here and I don’t feel comfortable with it being shared over here: no problem! let me know as soon as you can and i’ll take it down <3

[spitpr1ncess]

Can I Call You Sir? / Nanami Kento x Fem Reader

--“And if I did? It’s only proved what I thought to be true all along. You’re a little degenerate, like me. I just wanted to test you, to know if you wanted what I wanted. Seems like you do, so tell me to stop and I will. Tell me you’re leaving, I’ll let you. I’m not going to force you to do anything, I respect your boundaries, and I respect that this is wrong. It just, feels so right. So deny it.”--

Fucking bullshit.

You stare at the graded paper before you and seethe from the inside out. An F? A fail?! But you’d studied relentlessly! The only thought you were having was how your mother was going to kill you when she finds out, you can practically hear her shrieking, “I’m paying heaps of money to put you through university and this is what you have to show for it?

Professor Nanami is writing something that looks vaguely recognizable on the chalk board, his tall but slim body looking oddly out of place at the front of the long classroom as you glare holes into the back of his blue shirt. There wasn’t a single person you hated more than him in this never-ending moment. You yawn and allow your head to fall heavy onto your crossed arms, hiding your shameful test results. You could listen to Professor Nanami with your eyes closed based solely on the fact that you would be failing the rest of this term if your test results were anything to go by.

The rest of the lesson passes quickly as you fall victim to maladaptive daydreams, playing out every single scenario where you approach Professor Nanami and question his harsh grading. You aren’t a stupid girl, in fact, in every other class you were smashing your target or hitting above. What was this mans problem? You imagine slamming your paper down in front of him, arms crossed and little foot tapping the floor. “Do you hate me?”, “So you have favourites?”, or just a plain “what the fuck?!” were among the favourites you’d rehearsed. His face was cold as stone as he stared back before licking his lower lip and smirking, pulling his glasses atop his head, causing a pretty ripple in his hair as he stands absolutely towering over you. A large thumb lifts your chin to look at him as his eyes bore into you. Then his lips are on yours.

Wait what?

What?

You’re roughly pulled from your daydream by your hair as a pair of polished brown shoes stand at the foot of your worn school desk and a voice beckons your name. Professor Nanami is stood less than a foot in front of you waiting for an explanation. You shoot bolt upright in the uncomfortable wooden chair as your entire body feels like its been zapped by an electric fence. You can feel the blush in your face spreading to your ears as you push the strange daydream to the back of your degenerate mind.

“Sleeping through my lectures will not help you fix that broken grade, Miss Reader. Do you understand me? Or do I need to put it more plainly? It can’t be easy with a simple mind like yours, but I’m sure we could find a way to help you absorb what I’m saying.” His eyes are cold as steel and boring into your soul, he doesn’t even blink, he’s like a robot. You hold his gaze before risking a look around the classroom revealing that it is completely empty, not a soul to be seen, brilliant. So not only had you failed your test but you’d also voluntarily agreed to extracurricular activities whilst daydreaming about kissing your Professor, it sure was a great day to be you.

You panic, how were you going to salvage this? You needed to think quickly, but nothing was springing to mind.

Clearing your throat and calming your nerves you begin, “sorry Professor I didn’t get much sleep last night, I have a lot going on at home so am finding it difficult to participate in classes at the moment.”

You are?

He lets out a small snort as he sits at the edge of your desk, peering down at you through his glasses, a look of judgement plasters his incredibly chiselled facial features, he is beautiful, and you’re happy to admit that, whether or not it could get you in trouble.

What?

“Your lies won’t cut it here, you’re excelling in all your other classes, algebra, languages and biology. These are not easy subjects and geography is a breeze in comparison, so why are you failing? Are you doing it on purpose?” Your attention is drawn to his strong throat and his Adams apple lifts and falls again as he swallows and you wonder if he is anxious about approaching you, not that he has any reason to be.

You feel anger bubble in your throat as you argue back, “I’m not a liar. I’m having trouble concentrating here. Your teaching, the class size, the fact the class is the last of the day, maybe you’re grading me too harshly! Have you considered that? Nobody else failed, so why did I?!” Your voice is shaking now and your knuckles are white as you push your nails into your palms, drawing blood. Professor Nanami looks at you for a moment before standing and heading back to his desk at the front of the class where he picks up a piece of chalk and some papers and begins to write.

“Question one is on plate tectonics, lets begin there. Would you care to explain the theory to me?” He turns and gives you a weirdly friendly smile, you calm your nerves and take a breath, opening your paper and looking at your answer, you read out the sentences you had written and cringe as you allow Professor Nanami to correct you, taking notes on his tutoring. Your personal four o’clock class finishes at just past seven as you both wrap up the test paper and Nanami wipes the board clean.

“In future Miss Reader, you come to me when you need help. You’re a smart young lady really, you know that, so put your brain to use. You’re going to do great things after your course is up so don’t discredit yourself over one failed paper.” He sits at his desk and waves his hand to dismiss you. “You’d better go now, I’m sure you have a worried boyfriend wondering where you’ve gotten to so late in the evening.” He pushes his glasses onto the top of his head, much like in your daydream, and you appreciate how good he looks for a moment. He’s aged yes, around thirty yes, but still gorgeous. You know the girls at University fawn over him, fighting to get even a slither of attention, and here you were, in a private tutoring session of your own, and without even meaning to.

You ponder the boyfriend comment before packing up and heading for the exit, deciding to test the waters you address him, “I don’t have a boyfriend Professor you see I simply don’t have time, and anyway, none of the boys here are mature enough to interest me.” You turn and give him a smile as you catch his gaze flitting up from where your stockings meet the fat of your thighs, you roll your eyes at him and shake your head as you sigh and leave for the night.

This was an interesting development.

-

Sleep washes over you as you awaken in your dream. Professor Nanami is sitting before you, he beckons for you to sit on his lap, you oblige and as you nestle against his chest, his fingers find the edge of your stocking, he traces lazy patterns on your thigh, eliciting a small sigh of pleasure from you. He nuzzles his nose against your cheek and plants a soft kiss against your neck, he pushes your soft hair behind your ear and begins to litter kisses on your sensitive lobe.

“Sweet thing, you smell heavenly, I just want to devour you.” He whispers. You throw your head back and invite him to suck and nip at your exposed throat, completely vulnerable in his arms you entrust him with your entirety. He groans as you manoeuvre your little waist to create friction with the fat of your ass and you’re met with the impossible hardness between his legs, this moment between the two of you feels like fireworks, everything is at a standstill and there is nothing but your two bodies, completely entwined, obsessed with each other’s perfect anatomy. You continue to explore each other physically as you mewl and sigh rhythmically, nothing has ever felt better than your Professors loving touch on your absolute innocence. You’d been with boys yes, but never a man like Nanami.

“Nanamin,” you cry out as he finds the hotness between your legs.

“Sweet girl, I’ll take the best care of you, just relax.” he speaks like sweet poetry from his mouth that tastes like the most expensive organic honey. Your breath hitches as he starts to disappear, you reach out but he is no longer there.

-

You jolt awake as you feel wetness pooling between your legs, the hotness and lack of friction so unbearable you are torn from the dream of all dreams.

Fuck, this is weird now.

Daydreaming about your Professor wouldn’t be the worst thing if you weren’t now absolutely sopping wet and grinding against your own mattress. You dare to slip a tiny hand under the waistband of your pants and give a little release to yourself, it felt unreal, and without realizing you were picturing him as you drive yourself to the edge and jump off head first. You’re picturing his pretty features and strong hands, his soft lips and authoritarian stare. In your head he’s praising you, “sweet thing, sweet girl” he says. You shudder as you come down from the satiating high and allow shame to encase you completely, rolling over, you stare at the screen of your phone.

5:38. A notification flashes from last night.

baby nobara: maps said you left uni at 7! wtf were u doing?? ps, shopping tmorrow?

You open the notification and type a quick reply.

you: was just studying, nothing important hahahah. sure! meet me at 11?

With that, you roll back over and let sleep nestle you gently between her arms.

-

It’s twenty minutes after your planned meet time that Nobara turns up, and holding a Krispy Kreme bag full of donuts and a doc marten tote housing at least one new pair of shoes, she’d obviously done a pre-shop, not that it was particularly out of character for her. Her gentle face is plastered with a mischievous grin as she runs and embraces you like two sisters might embrace after a long time away from each other’s presence

“I had to warm up before we got started!” she laughs at you, and all is forgiven in a matter of seconds. You’re both giggling as she opens the bag and makes you a peace offering of a strawberry donut, you eagerly accept as you discuss what shops you want to hit up today. You both spend hours browsing, trying on and chatting about everything, you don’t get to see Nobara often as you have alternating days on campus and your schedules clash horribly so the times you do spend together are cram packed full of mischief.

You’re walking past a load of stores as you approach Victoria's Secret and you immediately flash back to Professor Nanamis eyes on your stockings last night and his comment about your supposed boyfriend. Cogs are turning in your mind but before you have time to make the connection, you’re being dragged in, you have no objections and are pleasantly surprised by the variety of lingerie this particular chain of store holds. You pick out a few different numbers including a black corset body suit and a matching garter with stockings, you knew the reason for picking it out was completely inappropriate but it didn’t stop you from taking it to the counter and paying nearly 100 dollars for it. You grinned as you schemed yet another daydream waiting for your friend to decide on the bits she wanted.

You both decide on a little sushi place for lunch and as you fill your mouth with miso Nobara asks, “Who are you fucking? It has to be someone at university, that’s why you stayed so late, right?” The question completely winds you as you try not to choke on your food. Your eyes are watering as you try to explain that it was just extra-curricular studies. Nobara nods and rolls her eyes, “You don’t have to lie to me, I’ll find out sure enough.” She laughs as you pray she lets this go, shovelling some nigiri into her mouth she waves you off. “Chill,” she says as you allow your heart to slow in your chest.

You give her a hug as you finally part ways and she ruffles your hair, “See you around”, and with that she’s gone. You begin the walk home as you reflect on the events of today, you reel as you come to the realization you spent 100 dollars on a lingerie set for a man over ten years your senior who would less than likely ever find out you’d bought it. Unless.

No.

You shake the thought of trying to bait your own Professor after barely scraping by the last term, expulsion for indecent behaviour seems somewhat worse, at least you think. It also doesn’t seem good for Nobara to now suspect you have something going on with somebody, she has to know all the top gossip and you don’t doubt she will find a way. Now that you think about it, you should turn your phone location off. You know your friend would stalk you for the sake of some scandalous news she can tease you about. You giggle to yourself, you and Professor Nanami, what a thought.

-

The bell rings as you finish washing your hands, you stopped to use the bathroom before your final class of the day, Geography. You’d been anticipating this class, having chosen the black corset body suit with stockings to match, you’d paired it with a mid-length black satin skirt and an oversized cardigan, it was enough to feel comfortable in, and not break any regulations but enough for Professor Nanami to notice, which was just perfect. You wanted to test the waters after his comment and wandering eyes, you’d had time to stew over your awful test results and were wondering if maybe he was a little harsh with the grading. Either way, today would tell.

You hurry up the stairs and down the long corridor to the classroom where he lectures, there were around 30 students already settled in class and you could see your Professor writing on the board. You slip in quietly and take your seat at the back of the class, you shed your cardigan, giving a frontal view of your chest and begin to take notes. You ensure you pay full attention to todays class, not taking your eyes off the man at the front of your lecture room. You meet his gaze a few times and you sense him trying really hard to not allow his eager eyes to flit downwards, you wish for him to give you anything more than a feeling to go off of but he’s stone cold and hard as steel. As the class draws to an end Nanami dismisses the students and you wait until the room has emptied before you walk towards his desk. You wait for him to address you.

“Miss Reader, can I help you with something?” he doesn’t meet your gaze and instead continues typing something on his keyboard, you’re frustrated with how nonchalant he’s being, how you’ve probably misread the entire encounter, how you’ve created a whole reality from nothing.

“I, I was hoping maybe you would assist me with some questions I have from the class today Sir, if you have time of course.” If he wanted to play games, he would get games, you might be younger than him but you’re not stupid.

“That’s okay, you’ll have to give me ten minutes whilst I finish this email, then I’m all yours. Feel free to take a seat.” He motions for the first desk in the front row and you roll your eyes as you decide to make a stand. You pull a chair from the side of the room to Nanamis desk and sit directly opposite him, you take out your textbooks and begin to lay them out on the space behind his computer, sitting down you cross your legs, brushing his shin with your shoe. You’re sure you see his jaw tighten, but he plays it off by cracking his neck, the loud crunch distracts from the tension filled silence and you lick your bottom lip in anticipation.

He finishes with his email and pushes the computer screen to the side of his desk then leans back in his chair and loosens his tie slightly, he catches you watching the space above where his shirt is buttoned and smirks, “So what questions do you have sweet girl?”, it’s an innocent enough question but you’re walking a fine line and need to be careful. You make idle small talk about today’s class for an hour or so before asking your Professor to quiz you, it’s a shot in the dark but you’re hoping he will catch on.

“I’ve been revising, ask me any twenty questions, if I get them right you can pass me for that test!” you grin, proud of the compromise you’d come up with.

“It’s a good idea, but what if you get questions wrong? Does the fail still stand?” he laughs quietly, like he made a personal joke that only he understood, he allowed his eyes to trail down to the black floral lace encasing your chest, it wasn’t overly provocative (you were in university after all) but it was enough to make his mind wander. You test the waters again, trailing a finger over the top of the hem, outlining the soft of your breasts, Nanami shuffles in his seat and adjusts his legs, brilliant.

You allow your Professor to test you, answering all questions and waiting for each correct answer like a patient puppy, sitting for its master. At the end of the test you grin, over the moon with yourself for showing him you deserve a passing mark.

“I told you! I told you I shouldn’t have failed. You were definitely marking me too harshly!” You brush your leg against his again, and he doesn’t make an effort to move himself, he drinks you in through the round frames of his glasses that are sitting pretty on the top of his nose.

“Sweet girl, I never thought you were stupid, in fact, I think you’re rather smart. So tell me, why are you really here right now?” He sits forward in his chair and leans across his desk, towards you. Your faces are so close that you can feel his warm and tempting breath on your lips, your eyes close of their own accord and you lean in. He teases you with soft pecks and you fight back, bringing a hand to his chin but he beats you to it. Your hand completely drowned by his own, the sheer size difference a shock to your system, he holds your hand against his desk where your forgotten papers sit. With his other hand he brings his thumb just below your chin and lifts your face so your eyes can meet his, “Is this what you wanted all along? To kiss your Professor? Is this what your little get up today is about? You thought I wouldn’t notice the pretty lace? Do you know how good you look?” His rhetoric questions causing your heart to beat a hole in your chest you inhale sharply, trying to take control of your breathing once again.

“You failed me on purpose.” It’s slipped out before you have time to consider what you’re saying.

What?!

“And if I did? It’s only proved what I thought to be true all along. You’re a little degenerate, like me. I just wanted to test you, to know if you wanted what I wanted. Seems like you do, so tell me to stop and I will. Tell me you’re leaving, I’ll let you. I’m not going to force you to do anything, I respect your boundaries, and I respect that this is wrong. It just, feels so right. So deny it.”

A grown man, your professor nonetheless, sits before you in what feels like a dream, asking for you to stop this.

So stop it.

You take your free hand and pull his face into yours, you’re kissing again, this time with more desperation. It was like you were parched, and Nanami was a stream of fresh water, you couldn’t get enough, and it was like your entire life depended on it. His desk was the only thing stopping you from jumping across and allowing him to devour you whole, you thought about straddling his lap and allowing him to grab the soft fat of your ass. Not yet.

You pull away from the kiss and stand, looking at the man before you, his tie completely loose, a few strands of hair falling on his forehead allowing him to look dishevelled, his glasses slightly steamed up. He was a sight to behold and your heart was beating to within an inch of your life with the idea that you had caused it. Internally you were screaming, DON’T FUCKING STOP. But you had to, had to make sure this wouldn’t be a mistake. You leaned across the desk and picked his glasses off of his nose, placing them on your own and pulling them up, to push the hair off of your face. He looked puzzled and opened his mouth to say something but you interrupted him.

“It seems I have forgotten something, looks like I’ll have to come back to get it tomorrow, what a shame.” And with that, you shot him a grin, turned on your heels, and left. Nanami sat staring at the door in utter shock and awe as you stalked out. He quickly fixed himself up sans glasses and packed up for the day, he muttered something about teaching you a lesson, and spare frames before he left, allowing the leftover tension to dissolve.

[silkling]

Thank you that's so sweet??? Aaa that means a lot-

I have thought of a few prompts actually,,

One being, TFA Prowl and Jazz where Prowl was some sort of fae creature that could disguise himself as a normal bot, and he got dragged to Yoketron. Either Yoketron knew what he was or he entered a deal with him by accident, but Prowl was like...honor bound to stay and learn from him after making that agreement. Maybe Jazz is there visiting as a previous student, and weird things about Prowl keep catching his attention.

The other was far more angsty- what if Sigma 17 were woken up earlier, like halfway through the war when their pod is discovered by an Autobot ship.. mby Blades' brothers are still aware and he can feel them, but otherwise they're just dumped straight into war. Poor bbys.

Oh my god. You. You just. You don’t know what you did. Cause I like, really like fae lore. So as soon as I saw that prompt my brain demanded it be written. But I also really like your other prompt. So I’m going to do them both! This one is the fae Prowl one. I’ll post the second prompt in another post. But seriously I’m going to have so much fun with this. You have no idea what you have unleashed in my brain.

———————————————————————————————————

Yoketron watched as the lithe, elegant youngling was hauled into his Dojo by Warpath. He arched a brow when he noticed the muzzle clamped on his face, and then was even more surprised when he realized just how much the mechling was capable of thrashing in the larger Autobot’s hold, despite the stasis cuffs clamped around his wrists. The youngling, a two-wheeler now that Yoketron was able to see him more clearly, was dumped on the floor and pinned under a heavy red pede.

“You sure you want to take this one, Master Yoketron? I really think he’s more deserving of the stockades, filthy little deserter.” Warpath snarled.

“Indeed, Warpath. I am quite certain.” Yoketron hummed. “I assure you, if he truly does not wish what I have to offer than I am quite capable of bringing him to the stockades myself.”

Warpath only grumbled, growling one more time at the small youngling, and then he bowed and left.

As soon as the weight on him was gone, the mechling’s thrashing kicked up a notch and he tried to sit himself up. It seemed though, that despite his surprising amount of maneuverability he didn’t have enough control of his limbs to actually do so. Yoketron knelt down, reaching out and pressing the release mechanism of the muzzle. It dropped to his waiting palm and he subspaced it, retracting his hand just in time to avoid razor sharp fangs snapping shut on his fingers. As it was, those deadly dentae clacked together harshly as the mechling’s jaw closed on empty air. Yoketron arched a brow, frowning. Odd. Usually it was only warframes who had such sharp fangs, and this little one was most definitely not a warframe.

Yoketron ignored the furious glare, casting a critical gaze over the mech laying prone on his dojo floor. At least he had stopped thrashing, though now his frame was so tense the armor plating was clamped shut too tight to get even a metal wire in between the individual armor pieces. Yoketron returned his gaze to meet the glowing visor, bright with the fury and rage that was strong enough for him to practically taste in the youngling’s field.

He hummed as if to himself, reaching behind him to undo the stasis cuffs, only to stop when fangs pierced and dug into the armor of his forearm. He shot the mechling an unimpressed look, his free hand reaching and digging fingers into the soft protoform of his face behind his jaw. His body almost spasmed, his mouth forced open, his fangs and lips stained with Yoketron’s energon. The ninja master ignored the fear that started to sour his field, as well as the way his ventilations increased until he was panting harshly, mouth forced open and glaring helplessly at the older bot. Instead, he reached out again, removing the stasis cuffs, then releasing his jaw and straightening as he stepped back.

He watched the young mech get to his pedes, his movements graceful and elegant even as his field radiated rage and fear. Yoketron found his optics narrowing faintly at the way his every movement was soundless. There was no shifting metal as he rose, to whirring systems as his frame shifted and settled, so sound of pedes against wood as he got up and stood straight. It was…off. Not enough to make a normal mech think anything was wrong, but just enough to get Yoketron’s attention. Combined with his fangs, it was starting to paint a picture. Not to mentioned the slightly tapered finger tips he had noticed as he’d removed the stasis cuffs. Fingers that flexed and clenched, and Yoketron noticed a half-second flash of sharpened claws before those hands relaxed and returned to normal. Yes, he was most definitely starting to get an idea of what this mechling was.

“Hello, young one.” he rumbled. “May I ask what you were doing hiding on Dojo property?”

The youngling growled, shifting towards the door. Yoketron let him. “What do you think? Trying to stay out of the war.” he barked. “It’s not my fight, after all.”

Yoketron hummed. “Perhaps not.” he agreed. “But those in charge will not see it that way, and will see you as little more than a traitor for not answering the call to fight. I am taking a risk in doing so, but if you wish to avoid the fight them I can offer you another option.” he stepped towards the youngling, optics narrowing. “So long as you are willing to learn, I would take you on as my student.”

The youngling snarled. “Fat chance! I’m leaving.”

“Certainly.” Yoketron agreed. “If you can make it to the door before I stop you, then you will be free to do exactly that, and I will ensure any and all charges against you are dropped.”

The youngling eyed him dubiously, but seemed to decide the risk was worth it because he was transforming and taking off in the next second. It had been a silent transformation too, which had raised only further alarm bells. Yoketron waited until he was close to the door, and then he moved. In a flash, he appeared in front of the mech, and a hard kick sent him tumbling out of his alt mode. Another kick, and he was flying back into the cabinet, which fell on top of him. Yoketron walked over and heaved it off, crouching to pin the mechling by pressing a hand between his shoulderblades.

“You have potential, little one. But if you are discovered and caught by the authorities then that shall all go to waste.”

Abruptly, the struggling form under his palm stilled and tensed, all anger leaving his field to be replaced by fear. “…what do you want?” he whispered.

“Your name, youngling. I believe Cybertron has lost enough of your kin. I have no desire to see another perish unnecessarily. The rest of the planet may be blind to it, but I am well aware of how necessary you are to the functioning of our world.” Yoketron said calmly. The yougling’s actions had confirmed his suspicions. He truly was one of the fae, a breed of Cybertronian long believed to be only myth.

The youngling was shaking faintly now, obviously frightened. Yoketron couldn’t blame him. While most civilians thought the fae to be the subjects of story and myth, any mech involved in government or military knew they were real, albeit very, very rare. There was a reason for that, a very unpleasant one, and it certainly didn’t help that any fae were were discovered were often captured and simply…never seen again.

“You know what that would mean.” There was an agonized note to the youngling’s voice.

Yoketron felt a twinge of regret. He did know, and it wasn’t something he was eager to do. But given the circumstances, it would be the best way to ensure this one’s safety. “I do.” he confirmed. “I promise you I will not abuse it, youngling. I seek only to ensure your safety and to see you grow. I cannot simply allow you to go so easily, for if I did then I would be questioned as to why I did not bring you to the stockades and it would bring more attention to you. This way, you will remain safe.”

“Then why offer to let me go in the first place?” he demanded.

“I believed it would make you feel better to know you had at least made an attempt.”

The youngling abruptly went limp, his field still fearful, but now also tinged with a dull resignation that made Yoketron feel a little sick to his tanks. He did not want to do it like this, but for the mechling’s safety was truly the only option, with the way Cybertron currently functioned. “Give me your name, youngling.” he encouraged, voice gentling.

The young bot reset his vocalizer, and looked up to lock his visor with Yoketron’s optics. “My name is Prowl.” he answered, and he could hear the reluctance as the young bot spoke.

As Prowl gave his name to Yoketron, his optics glowed a bright white for a brief moment behind his visor before fading back to normal. Yoketron himself felt a small pull at his spark, recognizing it as the tether that now bound Prowl to him. He lifted his hand from the fae’s back, watching him slowly rose to sit up. “I take your name to be returned to you when your tutelage is done, Prowl.” he said, and the bond that was latched against his spark strengthened and solidified. “Go. Past the door on your right is a hall. Turn left at the end, past the door there, and you will find the berthrooms. The one with the black door is the student’s room. You may call it yours while you remain under my care.” he said, voice gentle. “Rest. I will clean up here. Tomorrow, your training begins.”

There was a tug on his spark, ans he realized quickly that he had worded that too close to an order when Prowl winced, cringing back from him but obeying nonetheless. Yoketron frowned, distaste curling in his tanks. He would have to learn how to word what he said very, very carefully so it could not be viewed as an order. He knew the bond he had established by taking the fae’s name meant that Prowl would be compelled to obey what he was told, but he had no intentions of abusing that. It would be wrong to do so.

The youngling stood, then turned and left through the door. Yoketron listened to his pedes fade away, and then he himself was standing. He hadn’t expected his day to go like this, and he disliked how he had had to take on his newest student, but he couldn’t regret having done so. He did not want to see another fae fall just because Cybertron’s elite refused to understand them. With a heavy sigh, he retrieved the broom from the corner and began cleaning. Tomorrow would be a long day.

——————————

Prowl found himself curled up in the berth after he had cleaned himself up in the washracks attached to the room. His spark felt heavy with the new bond tied around him, and he further tugged the mesh blanket wound himself as he thought about it. He hadn’t ever intended to get caught. He had snuck into the Dojo grounds because they looked mostly empty and he’d thought it’d be a good place to lay low while army “recruiters” were sweeping through the streets. The last thing he wanted was to be forcefully drafted. Being around so many mechs who he knew knew about the fae…well, he was good, but he also knew he’d probably have gotten caught eventually.

He had hidden himself well, even using magae to keep himself as undetectable as possible. But then that red mech, Warpath, had seen him as he’d been attempting to sneak into another area of the Dojo, and….that was that. He’d been swiftly pinned and cuffed, and when he’d kept trying to bite, the muzzle had been locked around his face as well. He hadn’t expected to be brought to the Dojo Master, and he had even less expected that the mech, Warpath had called him Yoketron, would know what he was. He was even more embarrassed about being caught because when Warpath left, he realized the large bot just visiting. But he had been caught, and Yoketron had trapped and bound him with his own magae, and now he was here. At least the older bot had promised that his name–and freedom–would be returned after he was finished being trained, but Primus only knew how long that would take.

It was days like this when Prowl loathed his heritage, loathed the fact he was a fae. He had been proud of it, once. Fae were beings of legend, after all. Stories said that in Cybertron’s early days, even before the great cities were built, fae and normal Cybertronians lived alongside each other. It was said that fae were gifted the abilities beyond that of a normal bot, including tapping into the world’s natural energies. They were able to feel this energy and occasionally draw on it to perform feats of great power. Fae also wielded their own unique form of energy, called magae, that allowed them to perform what most bots would call “magic”. Magae was what made up the entirety of a fae’s abilities, it was what made them fae. Magae came from a fae’s spark, was comprised of the energies and power of their own life force, and they could use it to connect to the sparks of other bots. Usually, that would entail taking a mech’s name and binding them to yourself. Though if one knew how, the process could be reversed, and a mech could take a fae’s name and bind them to themself, as Yoketron had done to Prowl.

He couldn’t blame the older mech. The part of his processor that was more logical could even be grateful. His reasoning had been sound, after all. There wasn’t really a way for Prowl to walk away from this without unwanted attention, without risking discovery. He knew what would have happened if he was discovered. The rest of Cybertron may have forgotten why the fae disappeared, but his people remembered. Fae had been powerful. Chosen by Primus to maintain the planet’s natural order and help ensure prosperity for His children, which included themselves. For a time, it had been fine.

But then mechs had begun to fear to extent of what fae could do, disliking that they were capable of tapping into the sparks of others. And so the fae had been hunted. To avoid extinction, his people had fled and disappeared, going to the shadows and staying there until they were eventually forgotten. They built up their own society, separate from the rest of Cybertron. Prowl remembered it, a little bit. He had been sparked there, but…somehow, he had gotten separated from his people and place of origin, and he’d never found his way back. It was hidden from the people of Cybertron, and any fae who got lost from it and didn’t know the way back would remain stranded outside forever.

That was what had happened to him. He didn’t remembered how, but…he did know his creators had been taken, or perhaps offlined, and they’d hidden him just before being caught. They’d never come back, and he had remained stranded from the place he’d been sparked in. After that, he was told he was found by a civilian family from Praxus, who brought him to a Youth Center there. Once he was big enough to take care of himself, he’d fled the Center, wanting to try and find his way home, but…he’d never been able to. He’d been in his own ever since.

Now, he was stuck, bound to a mech who claimed to want to see him safe and strong but he didn’t know if Yoketron was telling the truth. He could only hope he was. The alternative was that the old mech intended to use the bond for his own gain, or to turn him in, and Prowl…Prowl didn’t want either option. He sighed heavily, swiping a hand across his face, his visor set on the nightstand by the berth. His optics were a normal blue, though what made them stand out was the markings around his optics. It was why he wore the visor. The most distinctive features of what he was were his fangs and claws, but those were easy to hide, and the markings around his optics. Every fae had markings somewhere, he knew. He had just been unlucky enough to have them on his face.

The youngling sighed, forcing himself out of the increasingly depressing spiral. It couldn’t be changed. He just had to adapt and learn. He was good at that. He tucked himself into a tighter ball, knees pulled to his chest and mesh clutched tightly around his form. He closed his optics, trying to calm down enough to recharge. Today had been a very bad day. He just hoped the days to come wouldn’t follow in the pattern.

——————————

Prowl woke the next day to a quiet knocking on the door. He startled awake, feeling out of sorts and groggy as he pushed the blanket off him and sat up. That was when he remembered the events of the previous day, and he flinched away from the door and looked down. So, it was time to get up, he supposed. He sighed, then swung his pedes out of the berth and padded to the door. Upon opening it, he found the hallway to be empty, but he picked up the sounds of…something at the end of the hall, in the opposite direction of what he was thinking was the main room of the Dojo. He stepped out, closing the door behind him, and walked towards the noise. He came to a sliding door, and when he opened it he found what appeared to be some sort of dining room.

Yoketron was already there, setting two places at the table with fuel. When the door opened, the old mech looked up. “Ah, Prowl.” he greeted. “You look well, today. I am glad.”

Prowl squirmed uncomfortably, nodding. “I….yes.” he said lamely.

“If you wish, you may come and sit. I typically share morning fuel with my student before I begin lessons, when I have one under my care.”

Prowl blinked, realizing there was no order in that phrasing. Maybe Yoketron really wouldn’t take advantage? He nodded, sliding forward, closing the door behind him as he went, and sitting on the cushion provided. Yoketron hummed, satisfied, and went to the opposite end of the small table to take his own place.

“I wish to apologize, Prowl” he said. “Binding you to myself was not how I wished to take you on as my student, but from what I have learned of fae culture over my life I believed it to be the best way to ensure you remain safe and undetected.” he explained.

The two-wheeler looked uncomfortable, but he nodded regardless. “There’s nothing I can do about it.” he sounded resigned. “I get it, I suppose. I know how dangerous discovery is for one of my kind. But that doesn’t mean I’m happy.”

“And I would not ask you to be.” Yoketron said patiently. He swallowed down some of his fuel, his gaze locked on the lithe youngling nibbling at his own meal. “I only wish so see you survive and grow strong enough that you can defend yourself.”

He took no offense when Prowl didn’t answer, and they consumed the rest of their meal in silence. When they finished, Yoketron stood. “If you would, I would appreciate if you cleaned your dishes and followed me. I will show you were you can put them, and then we can move on to your morning lessons.”

Prowl nodded, gathering his now empty dishes and following the old mech. He noticed once more that Yoketron had not phrased his request in a way that it might be interpreted as an order, and he felt grateful. While he still wasn’t happy about how things had turned out, he was starting to believe that just maybe the bond wouldn’t be abused after all. And if Yoketron was really telling the truth, then Prowl would someday be able to keep himself safe. He still wasn’t sure of this situation, and he didn’t trust Yoketron, but if things continued to be like this then maybe his time here wouldn’t be so bad.

——————————

Prowl was meditating. He did so fairly often these days, as it made his natural energies settle in a way they usually didn’t. Fae were constantly connected to the energy of Cybertron, and sometimes it was nice to let own own spark settle in a more peaceful rhythm as he let the energy of his world wash over him and surround him. It had taken him a while to learn the patience to do this, but he was glad that he had eventually managed. His processor settled, ventilations deep and even as he blocked himself out from the outside world. Why should he not? He knew he was safe here. He had nothing to fear.

A hand pressed to his spinal strut, between his winglets.

He jerked, his processor snapping back to itself as his optics abruptly snapped open. He let out a loud, startled yelp, helm shooting around, and his gaze locking on mech who was smiling faintly, expression wry and amused.

“Master Yoketron.” he did not wheeze, thank you very much.

“Prowl.” His master greeted, tone warm. “I apologize for startling you. I thought you would wish to know that it is time for afternoon fuel. It would be best to take it, I believe. The lessons I have planned for the rest of this orn are rather difficult.”

Prowl released a heavy, relaxed vent. He nodded, the harsh light of his optics dimming behind his visor as his systems realized he wasn’t under attack. “Of course, Master. Thank you for coming to get me. I apologize for not keeping better track of the time.”

Master Yoketron only shook his head. “Of course, young one. I understand the importance of meditation. I would not think to force you to stop early when I can prepare the fuel myself.” he hummed. “Though,” he cast his student a look. “I would appreciate if you did continue to prepare the fuel with me, in most cases.”

Prowl nodded, standing up and following his Master out the door of the small meditation room and down to the dining hall. “I would not think to abandon one of my tasks, Master Yoketron.”

“No, I do not think you would.” The old mech agreed. They stopped in the dining room, taking their respective seats. After a moment of silent eating, Prowl’s mentor spoke. “You have come very far since you first came to this Dojo, Prowl.”

Prowl paused, drawing back a little under the intensity of the gaze pinned on him. Yes, he supposed he had. He still wasn’t pleased that his teacher had had to take his name and bind him to himself to get him to stay, but he understood. Besides, he had come to like it, here. The old cyber-ninja was kind and fair, and he had never once forced Prowl out of his comfort zone or tried to abuse the bond, not a single time in the vorns since the fae had been dumped at his pedes. He stayed now because he wished to, not because he was forced to. The bond was still active, and Yoketron still held his name, but he had come to see this place as home and no longer tried to trick the cyber-ninja into breaking the bond. His Master still held his name, but Prowl would stay even if he did not.

“I suppose.” the fae said after a moment. “I am grateful to you, Master Yoketron. Even if I am not pleased as to how it happened, I am glad you took me as your student.”

The older mech relaxed, expression softening. “Indeed, young one. I feel much the same.” he murmured. “Now, I believe it is time we finish fueling. It will be a long orn yet.”

Prowl nodded, then picked up his cube of energon and took a sip. He didn’t know what his future would hold, but he, for once in his life, looked forward to what the coming stellar cycles would bring.

——————————

The coming stellar cycles, it turned out, would bring one of Master Yoketron’s former students. A mech named Jazz, who according to his mentor was visiting the Dojo for the Festival of Adaptus, and he intended to stay for the full deca-cycle the Festival took place on, as he was granted leave by the Elite Guard to do so. Yoketron had told him that Jazz had been his most recent student before he had taken in Prowl, and that the young cyber-ninja was apparently quite eager to meet their shared mentor’s newest disciple. Prowl wasn’t opposed to the visit, not at all. But in the vorns since he’d come to the dojo, he had relaxed and become more at ease, and so his magae itself had also become less tense and volatile. All that really meant, though, was that, now that he knew he was safe and at home, his instincts would let him behave in the way he wanted to about the Dojo’s guest.

Jazz didn’t know Prowl was a fae. He didn’t even know that a fae was in the Dojo. Which meant Prowl would be able to really mess with the mech and confuse him while he was here. He didn’t let his more mischievous tendencies be known often, but Prowl was a fae, and his people reveled in tricks and mischief. And now that someone new was coming, someone who wouldn’t know to anticipate it like Yoketron knew to, after living with Prowl’s rare pranks?

Well, Prowl was going to have some fun with Jazz.

——————————

Jazz didn’t know what he was expecting when he met his old Master’s newest student, but it most certainly wasn’t for the lithe mech to thrust out a hand, palm up, and say:

“Hello. Master Yoketron has told me about you. Would you like to give me your name?”

Now, the phrasing of the had been real funky, but Jazz hadn’t had time to think on it or even to tell the mech his name before Master Yoketron was putting a hand over his mouth and shooting the black and gold mech a very unimpressed look. The two-wheeler had huffed, arms crossing.

“I wasn’t actually going to do anything, Master.”

And Primus, but he’d sounded petulant. Jazz still didn’t understand that whole interaction, but then Yoketron was stepping away and the bot offered his hand out again. “My name is Prowl, and you may use it as a friend.” he’d said.

Upon getting no reaction from the Dojo Master, Jazz had stepped forward and taken his hand. Again, very funky phrasing, but Jazz was starting to think maybe the mech himself was just from a different walk of life than he was. “Name’s Jazz.” he’d introduced himself, and thinking that the second part of Prowl’s introduction must be important to the mech, he’d found himself copying it. “Feel free to use my name as a friend.”

The words had tasted oddly stiff in his mouth, but before he could say anything more Master Yoketron was shooing his student off to do some chores, and then he’d led Jazz to the berthroom reserved for Dojo guests.

Which, was where the Polyhexian now found himself.

Except…the berth was stood vertical against the wall. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was how Master Yoketron was storing them when they weren’t in use? But then, why hadn’t it been put back horizontal before he had arrived? Jazz was very confused. He shrugged, moving to pull the berth back down. Maybe his old teacher had simply forgotten, though Yoketron had never forgotten anything before. Old age, then? Yeah, Jazz would sooner believe that Ultra Magnus enjoyed bar fights.

He still had no idea how the berth had gotten like that, but maybe things would make sense after recharge. So, he slipped under the mesh blankets and let himself slip into unconsciousness. He was sure things would be less confusing when he was operating at his full abilities.

The next morning did dawn, and Jazz had woken up making the choice to just forget about the berth incident. He might ask his mentor at a later date, but for now he’d focus on just enjoying his time at th old Dojo. He slipped out of his berthroom, remembering from his own training that right about now was when the morning fuel was prepared. Sure enough, he slipped into the kitchen to find both Dojo residents preparing their shares. Jazz went to do the same, and after a a breem all three of them were seated at the table.

Jazz turned to Prowl, smiling. “So, mech, how’re you liking it at the Dojo? I heard through the grapevine your arrival here wasn’t exactly ideal.” he offered, remembering what Warpath had told the rest of the cyber-ninjas.

Prowl paused. “…it was not ideal, you are right.” he confirmed. “I am grateful for Master Yoketron taking me under his care, however. I find the Dojo pleasant.”

Jazz chuckled. “You’re a pretty well-mannered mech, aintcha?” he teased playfully. “I’d almost think you came from nobility.”

Prowl, amusingly, looked very offended. “It does not do to be impolite.” he sniffed.

Jazz smiled. “I ain’t disagreeing with you. But you can relax, you get me?”

Prowl simply stared at him, then scoffed and returned to his meal. Jazz didn’t take it personally. Dai Atlas was pretty stiff too. Some mechs just preferred structure and formality. Yoketron, as he often was during mealtimes, was silent. The rest of their fuel was consumed in that silence, and then Prowl and the Dojo Master were cleaning up and going off to the morning lessons. Jazz remembered those. They had been very….straining. He stood, cleaning his own dishes and then going to mediate until the other two were done for the morning. Plus, he hadn’t been able to mediate properly for a while.

A couple joors later, Jazz was done and got to his feet. Yoketron ans Prowl should be finished by now too, he knew, and he decided to walk though the garden to get to the main hall. Except…there were some odd metalli-plants in the garden, arranged in a perfect circle. Jazz didn’t recognize them, and he found it odd that they were planted that way. He could also detect a very, very faint energy coming from the circle. Curious, he walked over, intending to get close and touch the plants to examine them, when a hand landed on his shoulder.

He looked back, seeing Yoketron, and his old teacher looked exasperated. “Prowl, I would appreciate if you would not attempt to trap Jazz in your circles.” he called out.

Prowl stepped out from the Dojo, almost looking like he was pouting, and the odd energy around the flowers disappeared. “You’re no fun, Master. I wouldn’t have done anything.” he grumbled.

Yoketron only shook his head, and invited Jazz to join them for some basic katas now that morning lessons were done. He agreed, but tacked that onto his mental list of weird things going on at the Dojo. He thought that would be the last time. It wasn’t.

That night, when he went to the washracks, the solvent came out mixed with glitter. Jazz barely avoided getting a very sparkly makeover. Then, the next orn, he kept getting lost. Master Yoketron had to rescue him from the meditation chambers after the 12th time he ended up there trying to get to the dining hall. After that, his Master having to stop Jazz from accepting fuel that Prowl had offered. Then, he’d woken the next orn to find his berth was gone. Just….gone. Even though he’d been in it. The odd things kept stacking up and up, until finally, half-way into his stay, he learned what it all was.

It was when Yoketron, Prowl, and he were fueling after the morning lessons. Prowl and Jazz were talking, and then Prowl had said the words that made Jazz feel very, very stupid:

“Words have power, Jazz, so of course phrasing is important in proper social interaction!”

He forgot what they were even bickering about, staring at the rotten little trickster in front of him with a gaping mouth. “You’re a fae.” he realized. How had he not figured it out sooner? Master Yoketron had taught him about the fae. All cyber-ninja knew about the fae! Then a new thought struck him. “You stole my berth!”

Prowl blinked, and he seemed to relax when Jazz’s reaction to the revelation wasn’t fear or an attempt to turn him in. Only indignation. “I will not apologize.” he deadpanned.

Jazz stared, and then a grin stretched his lips. “You clever, tricky little glitch.” he said playfully, enunciating each word. There was no genuine malice in his tone. “Can you teach me how to do that?”

——————————

Prowl snorted as Jazz regaled him with yet another story about his new superior officer, a mech called Sentinel Prime, and his immense stupidity. They were in Iacon, and it had been a long time since Prowl had been so far from the Dojo, which was in the outer edges on Praxus, on its own land. But he’d come to a pause in his training, as Master Yoketron had sent him on an optics quest. It was, apparently, a major test in the life of a cyber-ninja. It would allow him to discover what he wished to do with his life, as he was meant to travel and experience new things and explore, and when he had the answer he would return to the Dojo. And then he would begin a new level of his training, according to his teacher.

So he was in Iacon currently, enjoying an afternoon with Jazz. It had been many vorns since that fateful Festival of Adaptus, and the two young mechs had forged a strong bond. So when Prowl’s optics quest had brought him in the direction of Iacon, he’d commed the older mech and asked to be shown around. The fae was nervous about being so close to the headquarters of Autobot High Command, because he knew what they did to any of his kind they discovered, but he was confident in his abilities to remain hidden. Plus, he had Jazz, and he knew the white bot wouldn’t let him be put in danger.

They were sitting at Jazz’s favorite cafe, enjoying a selection of energon treats, when Prowl felt it. A tug at his spark. The bond he shared with Yoketron went two ways. The older mech held most of the control, but Prowl could still sense his mentor through it. It was one of the reasons he had come to accept it. And now…now, Yoketron’s spark felt like it was sputtering, like the mech it belonged to was in pain and his life was in danger. Prowl didn’t stop to think. He threw down a fistful on shanix, and then grabbed Jazz’s wrist and dragged him away.

His processor was racing desperately, and he couldn’t even manage to answer his friend’s questions. He dragged them to an empty alley, and then closed his eyes, focused on his magae, and dug deep.

Every fae had a pocket plane of their own. It was like a bot’s subspace, but it wasn’t a subspace and it was large enough for a mech to go in to. It was like…a small sub-world of sorts, and only a fae could access it, and each fae had their own. The sub-world could be used as a quick method of transport. As long as the location one was trying to get to was on the same planet as they one they had left from, then a fae could use to to travel large distances in almost an instant.

Prowl had never accessed his, before. Oh, he’d tried. Countless times. But he’d never been able to. But now…now he had to. It was the only way they could get to Praxus, to Master Yoketron. So he dug inwards, pushing far, far deeper into his magae than he’d ever done before…and he stepped forward. He came into his sub-world, bringing Jazz with him, and the other mech was silent now, gaping im shock. He kept going though, and focused on Praxus, on the Dojo, and stepped again. Then, they were there. Prowl stumbled as he came to a stop in the Dojo, releasing Jazz and tripping onto his face. He didn’t notice when his visor was knocked loose as he shifted his gaze to try and find his Master.

Prowl and Jazz were frozen for a single sparkbeat at the scene they’d come into. A large mech with a hook in place of one hand and markings on his face was standing over their mentor. For a moment, Prowl thought the mech was fae. But he detected no magae from him, and the moment passed.

That was when the rage came. He snarled, his engine roaring his anger, and his claws lengthened to their sharpest, his fangs sharpening to their longest, and the golden markings around his optics glowed a brilliant, pale silver while his optics themselves glowed white. He surged up, and in the next sparkbeat he was between the mech and his master. He extended a hand, deadly claws resting on the mech’s chest plate, and before that hook could swipe at him he peeled back his lips, put his magae into his voice, and hissed a command.

“Stop.”

It wouldn’t hold for long, he knew. Without the mech’s name, the order wouldn’t hold much power. So, Prowl used the physical connection, and pushed with his magae, digging with his very spark into the core of the mech’s being. He had to be careful, he knew. Like this, it would be so easy to destroy, to rip the mech’s very soul apart and kill his being without even extinguishing his spark. But Master Yoketron had always warned him against using his powers to hurt others, telling him he was meant for greater than causing pain and suffering. Even if Prowl didn’t believe that, he still wanted to honor his Master’s wishes and his lessons. So he didn’t rip and tear and rend, like the more feral of his fae instincts demanded. Instead, he dug in, until he had what he wanted, and wove a strand of magae into the mech’s spark energy to ensure the bond would take.

Then he pulled himself back, and as the mech regained mobility he met those red optics and bared his fangs. “I know your name, bounty hunter.” he spat. “I know who you are, and your name is mine until such time I decide it is mine no longer. I have your name , Lockdown, and with it I have you.” Claws dug into metal armor as the mech froze, optics blown wide with shock.

“You will stop this, and you will leave, Lockdown. Now.” Prowl ordered in a snarling hiss.

Lockdown was tense, but the bond that Prowl had tied around his spark and the hold of his name over him forced him to obey. He stopped, and he left. It was only when the Dojo was silent that Prowl began to calm. He sagged, slowly releasing a heavy vent, and turned to the other two mechs. Jazz had helped Yoketron sit up, his helmet already returned to him, and both were staring.

“Uh, mech? What’s with the light show?” Jazz asked softly.

“Light show?” And then Prowl noticed the lights.

Small, glowing spheres of light and energy filled the room. Dozens of them. He gasped, reaching out to the nearest one and tapping it. It burst into flame, and Prowl jerked back. The flame burned out, and a new light replaced the old. Prowl hesitantly tapped another of the spheres, and this one burst into mist. It was then he understood what this was.

Every fae had a unique magae ability. It seemed these spheres were his, and each of them did something different. But what was the use, if he didn’t know which did what? Except….he did know. Or at least, his spark did. This was an ability born from his magae, from his spark. So….if he let that guide him..he would know.

He took a deep vent, focusing, and his gaze locked on one sphere floating to his right. He cupped his hands around it, bringing it to his mentor, and crouched by the older mech. He held his hands out, the sphere glowing above his clawstips.

“This one should help you, Master.” he said softly.

Yoketron hummed, then reached out and pushed his fingers into the light. It flared, dancing up along his frame, and small cracks and wounds in his armor sealed up while the heavier injuries lessened slightly in severity. He perked up too, as if he was given a boost of energy, and was able to stand up on his own after a moment. Prowl and Jazz followed suit, but before either could say anything another form burst into the Dojo.

“Master Yoketron, are you-“ the mech cut himself off, staring at the scene. “….I saw smoke coming from the Dojo?” he said, uncertain.

Prowl tensed, optics narrowing, but Jazz slid in to calm the situation. “It’s alright. We managed to deal with it.”

The mech’s uncertain gaze looked around the Dojo, clearly confused at the lights, until his optics found Prowl. Then they lit up with understanding, and recognition. He obviously realized what the fae was. But…he stepped forward anyway, holding out a hand. “You’re Master Yoketron’s student, right? My name is Springer, and I give it to you freely to use as you wish, though I hope you would use it as a friend.”

Prowl startled, not expecting a mech to give his name so easily. He had to cut the tie to his magae so it wouldn’t try to latch on and bind the mech. He took the offered hand, careful of his claws. “You are well met, Springer, and I would be pleased to call you my friend. My name is Prowl, and I offer it to you to use as a friend in turn.” he said smoothly, then stepped back.

Jazz grinned, throwing an arm around Prowl’s shoulders. “Nice, Prowler! But are you ever gonna explain what in the Pit you did? Cause I’m still trippin’ over tryin’ to figure it out.”

Springer cut in. “As much as I’d like to know too, maybe now isn’t the best time. We should clean up before the Elite Guard figures out something went down here. Prowl, that means you might want to cut your magae off, we don’t want you getting found out.”

Prowl tensed, but nodded stiffly. He could do that. He took a vent, closing his optics and relaxing. After a moment, the spheres started winking out, and his fangs and claws returned to their hidden states. His optics and markings stopped glowing, and he opened his optics to look for his visor. He quickly noticed it was broken on the floor, and he was about to panic when Jazz caught his attention and held out his own visor. His optics were bare for once, and Prowl found himself staring in quiet awe for a moment before a resetting of a vocalizer from Springer snapped his focus back. He snagged up the visor, slipping it on and shooting Jazz a grateful look.

“Great!” the green mech was smiling. “Now, let’s figure out this mess!”

Prowl hummed. “I believe I have an idea. Springer, if you will, I believe you and I would be best suited for cleaning up here. Jazz, would you mind helping Master Yoketron?” A glance back showed their mentor leaning against the far wall, seemingly in a meditative state. “And call in a medic, his wounds still need to be treated.”

The other two glanced at each other, and for a moment Prowl thought they wouldn’t take orders from an ungraduated student, but to his surprise they nodded and got to work. Prowl felt himself smile, and fell into place with Springer to clean up the mess Lockdown had made of the Dojo’s main hall. He had been worried that he wouldn’t find his place once he graduated the Dojo and left his Master’s care, but he was starting to realize he would have a place after all. He would find his acceptance and his purpose in the Cyber-Ninja Corps and the mechs who he would one day call his brothers-in-arms. He was sure of that now. He looked forward to it. For once, Prowl knew that his future was bright, and he was eager to meet it head on.

(Yoketron watched his youngest student interact with two of his others, and felt pride swell in his spark. Prowl had come so very far from that first orn, when he’d been a half-feral youngling trying to flee the world itself. He’d known he had made the right decision in choosing his successor when he’d seen how Prowl handled Lockdown, and when he’d seen how easily and freely he had accepted Springer as a comrade. Prowl was going to far surpass him one orn, was going to be a far better Master of the Cyber-Ninja Corps than he ever was. Yoketron couldn’t wait to see it.)

———————————————————————————————————

And there it is! What did you think? I hoped you liked it. I had fun. I like it. Fae Prowl is a little troll and you can’t convince me otherwise. Anyway, that story is finished! Yoketron lives, because I said so. Also, Prowl and Jazz totally become a thing later. Absolutely no one is surprised.

Aaaaannd…I think thats it! Yep, I’ve said the important stuff.

Until next time, folks!

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 11.1k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: voyeurism, exhibitionism, filmed sex, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), big dick namjoon serving us tripod realness, dom!joon, and when i say dom i mean both dominant AND domestic : ), impregnation kink, daddy kink, praise, dom!jimin, sub!reader in both of these scenes, lingerie kink (m wearing), copious teasing, very light spanking, french kissing, lapdance, the jimin scene is filthier than the tags give it credit for ngl, oral (m receiving), cum swallowing/eating, aftercare (as always) 

banner designer @jamaisjoons​ | thank you everyone in the sfhs server, you bring me so much joy, motivation and good ideas | AND finally thank you to the anon that suggested [redacted] jimin i legit replanned everything just to make that his prompt

DAY TWELVE

The mattresses in the room of bunk beds are surprisingly comfortable. The metal springs squeak a little if you move too much, but you wake up feeling well-rested.

“Not too bad, right?” Hoseok chirps, swinging out on the ladder and jumping down onto the floor with a thud. Using his laundry from the day before, he unceremoniously swaps his sleep shirt and boxers for some deep green skinny jeans and an orange sweater. Namjoon, more modest and distinctly more sleepy, grabs his clothes and stumbles back to his own room.

“The beds? Better than I was expecting for sure.”

Hoseok smiles warmly as you hop down the ladder and arrive on steady ground again, toes curling into the carpet. He fiddles quickly with a chunky watch, doing up the links. “Breakfast is downstairs if you want it.”

You throw him a teasing grin. “Not if you’re making it, thanks.”

He has the good graces to pretend to be offended, before tugging you into a playful side-hug, ignoring your squeak of surprise. “No, you cheeky fucker, Jungkook bought pancake mix. He texted me saying there’s plenty for everyone.”

“Jungkook making breakfast?” you ask dubiously, but the warm image of pancakes for breakfast makes your stomach growl. “Let me get dressed real quick and I’ll come down.”

Jungkook, it seems, is starting out the day cheerful as ever. He gives you a big grin when you, Namjoon and Hoseok come down for breakfast, and he makes sure to dish up the biggest pancakes for you, before taking the second biggest for himself.

Jin raises a teasing brow when you come down accompanied by the two men, Namjoon still with his hair ruffled up awkwardly from his slumber. “Long night?” he questions with a cheesy wink.

Hoseok catches on to the teasing nature, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Sadly, Namjoon wanted a rest day, so we didn’t enjoy any funny business.”

Jungkook watches the three of you closely, lips tightening just a little bit before he breaks out into a cheeky smile. “I think Y/n would have been too tired out to do anything more anyway.”

You choke on air, a forkful of pancakes blessedly not in your mouth yet. Beside you, Hoseok chuckles awkwardly. “Goodness, JK, we heard enough yesterday. The gym walls are not as thick as they should be.”

Instead of blushing like you are, Jungkook puffs his chest up. “I’ve never heard Y/n scream like that with any of you guys. Then again; I bet you haven’t made her squirt like I did.”

This time you aren’t so fortunate, coughing on a mouthful that you’d anxiously stuffed in to keep yourself occupied. You send Yoongi a grateful look as he slides you a glass of water.

“Jesus, Jungkook,” Jin grimaces, “we’re trying to eat breakfast.”

You keep your eyes down, confused by Jungkook’s behaviour and more than a little embarrassed.

When you hear Namjoon speak up, his voice is strangely tensed. “That’s really not appropriate.”

A heated pause. “This is literally a porn show,” Jungkook states defensively, “sex is the whole reason we’re here. I think everyone’s forgetting this is a competition about being the best in bed, I’m just- You know what, never mind, pretend I didn’t say anything.”

“You just what?” Namjoon questions. It’s unlike him to be argumentative, and you shift in your seat, taking another sip of the ice-cold water. “Did you really make us all pancakes just so you could gloat? Y/n is a person, not a video game, Jungkook. Have a little respect.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond, but when you glance up, the frustrated rolling of his eyes and furious stabbing of his fork in a pancake speaks volumes.

Yoongi pinches his brow. “Jin-hyung, can you pass the syrup? Thanks.”

Namjoon stares expectantly at the youngest Gentleman for a few moments, before letting out a light huff and returning to his food.

Silence continues for a moment or two before Taehyung pipes up, voice tiny in the oppressive tension. “How many people still have to do their prompts this week? I haven’t done mine yet.”

Yoongi sends him a lightly exasperated look. “Really?”

Taehyung gives a small shrug, glancing to the camboy sitting beside him. “I mean… I don’t think we need to be explicit but this show is about sex. I feel like it’s equally bad if we don’t talk about it at all, you know?”

“The kid’s right,” Jin allows with a wry grin. “I’ve done mine. Tuesday; though I suppose some of you saw.”

Jimin cocks his head, lost. “Saw? Uh, yes, I haven’t done my prompt yet. Actually, uh, if you guys wanna take part, stay in the lounge tonight. I need an audience.”

You send him an inquiring look. “What about me?”

Jimin lets out a short laugh. “Your participation is kind of mandatory. Please stay in the lounge too.”

You appreciate the slow brushes of conversation that ease the tension away. “Am I an audience member or a volunteer?” You grimace suddenly. “Wait, fuck, it isn’t like a circus act or something, right? You aren’t a magician?”

“Don’t worry, the show won’t be that kind of magic,” he promises.

You go to reply, but your attention is caught by the way Jungkook is openly glaring at Namjoon like he’s waiting for something. “Kook?” you question.

Jungkook’s eye twitches. “Why aren’t you saying anything now, Namjoon? So they get to talk about sex but I can’t?”

Jin sucks in harshly through his teeth, sending a look of alarm to the youngest. “Okay, break it up, that’s enough. Jungkook, any more smart comments and you can leave. We’ll talk privately if you need it.”

Jungkook lets out a bitter scoff, but Namjoon is already rising hastily, banging the edge of the table in his haste to get up. “I’ll go,” he urges, “you all can enjoy your breakfast in peace.”

Nobody seems to even breathe as the sounds of Namjoon’s footsteps fade away, a door upstairs shutting harshly.

Yoongi has his face bent, thumb and forefinger pressing to his forehead, like a headache is coming on. “What the fuck was that?” he muses tiredly.

Jungkook doesn’t answer, staring at his pancakes like he’s trying to make them burst into flames.

You bite your tongue harshly, unsettled by how tempers flared so quickly. Unsure of what to do, you stare at Jungkook for a moment. You don’t want it to seem like you’re picking a side, but he has five others around him, and Namjoon is upstairs alone. You slide your chair out, quieter than last time. “I’m just going to check on him. Jungkook; you’re fine, I’m not angry.”

He breaks out of his death stare at his breakfast to send you a look of bewilderment, but Yoongi is already clicking his tongue disapprovingly. “Well, I am,” the second eldest declares, and you rush upstairs before the scolding begins.

Namjoon answers, albeit reluctantly, when you knock on the door and call out to him. He’s well and truly awake and alert now, hair combed down sullenly, the purple looking more faded than ever against the rich blue of his long-sleeved t-shirt. “Are you okay?” he asks with a tired frown.

Your brows lift automatically. “That is the exact question I came up here to ask. Can I come in?”

His bedroom is even more tidy than usual, now that he hasn’t been sleeping there. You sit down on the edge of his bed, feeling an unsettling swirl of dread.

“I’m sorry about Jungkook,” is the first thing out of his mouth as he sits down beside you, shoulders hunched like he’s making himself as small as possible.

You shake your head slowly. “You shouldn’t apologise on other people’s behalf. He’ll say sorry if he wants to.”

Namjoon pauses for a moment. “Then I’m sorry about contributing to the uncomfortable atmosphere.”

Despite the situation, your mouth quirks into a grin and your eyes soften. “Forgiven. I’m more worried than angry, you know? About the both of you.”

Namjoon lets out a sigh, eyes dancing aimlessly around the room, no doubt pondering complex concepts at the speed of light like he usually was. “This is probably to be expected, right? Tension. I didn’t think I’d be the one involved, though.”

“Ah, it wouldn’t be a reality show without some drama,” you allow, scooting back on the bed so you can tuck your feet up, crossing your legs. “We’ve just gotta move past it, I guess.”

“Didn’t it make you uncomfortable?” Namjoon blurts suddenly, cringing at the volume of his voice. “Him talking about you so publicly like that?”

You run your tongue along the inside of your cheek. “It took me off guard for sure. I don’t know; I guess sex is kind of our currency in here, you know? Him being so, uh, bold about it out of nowhere is pretty weird, though.” You shrug it off. “Maybe he slept bad last night.”

Namjoon searches your face. “I’m too much of a prude, aren’t I? Things like that bother me, so why did I sign up for a porn show?”

You turn to face him, brows knitted in sympathy. “Just because others are more open doesn’t mean being modest is a bad thing. Don’t let Jungkook’s bad mood make you believe that you don’t belong on the show or that you need to change. Okay?”

The two of you share a tender moment of eye contact, before Namjoon laughs shyly and turns his head away. You grin at him. “What?”

“It’s stupid,” Namjoon deflects, “it’s not the time.”

“Not the time for what?” you press. “Tell me; I’m curious now.”

Namjoon’s eyes dart up, pausing briefly at your lips. “I just… I really wanted to kiss you.”

Your heart swells, but you keep your face open, your voice barely louder than a whisper. “Then you should kiss me.”

All the breath leaves his lungs in a rush, but before he can inhale again, he’s propelling himself forward, wide hands cradling your jaw steady so your lips can join, a little uncoordinated but perfect nonetheless.

The small whimper of surprise is muffled by his lips, but you quickly melt into him, hands clutching at the front of his shirt for stability.

You can taste the remnants of breakfast, the sweet stickiness of maple syrup on his lips. You deepen the kiss to seek out more of the flavour, breaths escaping your nose as you don’t dare part for a second. Namjoon seems equally enraptured, shy flicks of his tongue making your head spin.

You lean in until your wrists are pinned between his chest and yours, and then lean in more, wanting to be close. Like oxygen to fire, the more contact you get the more desperate you become, and when his hands lower to lift you easily onto his lap, grinding you unconsciously against his erection, you feel ablaze.

“I need to-nm-do my prompt,” Namjoon murmurs out, teeth catching on your tongue with how deeply you kiss.

You swallow, leaning back slightly to take a breath in. “We don’t have to now,” you assure, moving your hands up to stabilise yourself on his shoulders so that he cranes his neck up to chase your lips. “Or have you graduated from Hoseok’s School of Sexual Prowess already.”

You smile down at the way his eyes flutter shut with a crooked grin, delicate crescent moon lash line a deep brown against his tanned skin. His lips are flushed and swollen, and he swallows like a man parched before he speaks, blinking blearily up at you. “I prefer to learn on the job,” he quips hoarsely.

You grin, leaning down to nudge him slightly to the side with your nose, giving you a better angle to leave a trail of light kisses from the corner of his mouth to the top of his jaw, tugging on his earlobe just enough that you feel his dick twitch against you. “What’s it gonna be, then? Am I a naughty student? Slacking receptionist? Do I need to sign for a package, delivery boy?”

The chuckle Namjoon lets out is pained and reluctant. “Was that what you were hoping for? It’s a bit more romantic than that.”

“Romantic is good,” you assure, letting his arms on your hips hold you steady as you lean back and search his face. “Do I get any more clues? Tell me something.”

When he blinks up at you, there’s something open and earnest in his gaze, like he’s left behind that shy boy that blushes at any mention of sex. “Let me show you, love.”

He cradles your back and lays you down on his bed so delicately it takes your breath away. Without speaking, he presses his lips to yours again, and once again you feel unanchored in an ocean, kept floating by the pressure of his proximity. Slower than usual, you move against each other; his hands bracing him up by the pillow, your leg hitched up over his waist to keep him close. Between the soft cushioning of his bed and the solid heat of his body, you feel secure and safe, eyes closed so that he fills your other senses entirely.

The sweetness of the maple syrup on his tongue and lips has long since melted away, but it leaves behind his natural flavour, one you think you prefer more. Aftershave still clings to his cheeks, tingling your nostrils, but past it is the bright candylike scent of his orange blossom shampoo, and they mix dizzily as the ends of his hair brush your skin.

Need begins to pool between your legs, but it doesn’t drive you, instead staying muted in the background like the pleasant heat of a bubbling jacuzzi, hips rocking lazily without any true purpose as you focus on the shocks of pleasure when your tongues connect.

It’s impossible to tell how long the two of you stay like that, no urgency or haste, just enjoying the intimacy and closeness of shared breaths and swollen lips. When he trails a hand down to slip under your shirt, even his slightly calloused fingertips running up your side is enough to make you whimper, sensitised to every touch.

Namjoon groans when his palm covers your breast, gripping it and swiping a thumb over your stiffened peak, arousing even through the fabric of your bra, his mouth only leaving yours for the second it takes to push your shirt over and off, connecting again with a small grunt of need.

Though Namjoon’s body is hot like a furnace against you, the open air still causes you to shiver, arching your back so Namjoon can blindly locate the hooks on your bra, able to slip it off you in no time at all.

This time, when his teeth tug at your lip and you feel the uninhibited contact of his fingertip tracing a circle around your nipple, it’s like a spike of electricity straight to your core, igniting that spark of full-blown arousal. Namjoon’s lips quirk against yours when you let a moan catch in your throat.

When he shifts down, you’re expecting his mouth on your breast, or perhaps him to sit up to take his own clothes off, but he doesn’t go nearly that far. Instead he presses your jaw up, exposing your neck but laying kisses on the underside of your chin first.

Perhaps it’s that you weren’t expecting that touch, or perhaps such a unique place isn’t used to that type of attention, but his swollen lips caressing just below your jaw feels magical, eyelids fluttering as he sucks so, so gently.

His hand never leaves your breast, massaging the flesh, tracing where your regular skin pebbles into the dusky areola, nail dragging teasingly over the bud, and your mind is working itself into knots trying to process all the sensations he’s stirring in you.

If his first time was thrilling, this was nothing short of electric, neon bursts of colour behind your eyelids the only thing you can see. As his kisses slowly venture lower, dipping to the base of your neck, pulse throbbing against him, you picture your nerve endings like purple strands of electricity in a plasma ball, lighting up with every touch of his fingers, lips and tongue to your skin.

“Na-Namjoon,” you gasp out, swallowing to ease the dryness in your throat, “don’t tease, I need you.”

Namjoon shifts lower, but not low enough, chin resting on your chest as he looks up at you with a pleased smile, clearly satisfied with his improvement from last time. “But love, there’s no rush. We have the rest of our lives, remember? To have and to hold,” he rumbles lowly, pressing  two light kisses to the top of your heaving breasts, “til death do us part.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.”

Namjoon’s lip twitches. “Oh,” he repeats playfully. Goosebumps break out on the tops of your arms at this sudden brazenness. He’d clearly been doing plenty of talking with Hoseok, and to see his hard work pay off in your pleasured reactions probably gave him a burst of confidence. “Are you going to be patient for me now, love? Let me savour you?”

Your breath catches in your throat, so you just nod shakily.

Satisfied with your response, Namjoon quirks a lip before using the very tip of his tongue to trail a circle around your nipple, just wide enough that the bud strains for his attention. Your fingers clutch his sides, annoyingly still clothed, as he moves to the other one, still giving your nipple a wide berth. “C-come on, Joonie,” you complain hoarsely, “I need more.”

When he looks up at you from below his lashes and sucks one nipple slowly into his mouth, tongue pressing it against his upper teeth, you hiss sharply, releasing the air in a breathy moan. Namjoon suckles at you gently, still languid but no longer avoiding your most sensitive areas, and the hand not propping him up begins rolling the other one between his fingers, making you shudder.

You’re so wet between your legs it’s growing uncomfortable, and so you cant your hips up towards him, hoping he gets the message. He tuts at you, but pulls off your nipple with a wet pop and sits up to undress further.

Namjoon shucks his own shirt without ceremony before his fingers find your waistband, and you let him slide off your pants and underwear as you lie back and enjoy the sight of his thick chest and smooth stomach, a trail of dark baby hairs disappearing past his jeans that you didn’t remember noticing the first time you slept with him.

He takes off those jeans, his boxers too, and joins you on the bed again, running a warm palm up your side. “I want to taste you,” he announces simply, carding a hand through his hair to keep it out of your face.

“Fuck, please.” You watch with wide eyes as he lies on his stomach, hands dipping under your thighs to lift and part them. The exposed air has you clenching instinctively, and you swear you can see his eyes dilate at the sight. “Namjoon,” you whine, back arching in impatience.

“Shh, love, I’ve got you,” he assures, peppering kisses from just below your knees, down your thighs until you can feel his breath on your core. “So beautiful.”

You can barely breathe, head propped up on the pillow to stare down the plains of your chest and stomach to the insanely attractive man between your legs. Though you’d grown fond of the kinkier, wild scenes - in fact, your dreams at night had taken a turn since joining the show - something about seeing Namjoon so at his element in this domestic atmosphere has you dripping.

Like he has all the time in the world, he locks eyes with you and blows a wave of slightly cool air over your folds. You breathe out a groan, sending him what you hope is a convincing-enough pleading gaze. He smiles placidly, licks his lips, ducks his head even further, and-

And blows another stream, this time narrowed and colder, directly over your clit. You shudder and buck instinctively in his grip, his hands on your thighs keeping you spread.

“Come on,” you gasp out, “Hoseok’s made you into a fucking demon!”

“Oh, trust me,” Namjoon murmurs, “Hoseok’s version was way kinkier than this. I’m trying to be romantic and sensual.”

You shift again, fruitlessly trying to wiggle your hips closer. “It would be really fucking romantic if you would actually put your mouth on my-ah!”

Just like you know Hoseok would (you don’t know whether to thank him or curse him for this), Namjoon strikes when you least expect it, and when you most need it.

Though his mouth is small, his tongue is no less nimble, darting deeply through your folds to collect your juices and using them to slurp harshly at your clit. You jerk, hand shooting down to latch in his hair, but he continues that constant, unyielding vacuum until you’re squirming hopelessly beneath him, finally pulling off with the slightest graze of teeth.

“Happy now?” he retorts, swollen lips glossy with your slick. His hands tighten on your thighs. “Hold them.”

Invigorated by his command, you rush to grasp the backs of your knees, keeping your legs up and spread for him. “Fuck, so good, Joonie, w-want more.”

Now with two hands freed, it’s no surprise when two fingers find their way into your wet heat, twisting inside you with every smooth thrust. His chin is smeared with your wetness when he lowers it to continue laving his tongue over your sensitive clit, but he groans sinfully into you, like he’s getting just as much pleasure from it as you are.

Once he really gets going, he’s merciless, his fingers so thick that you don’t even need a third one to really feel him filling you, hooking up to rub at your g-spot every now and again to hear the involuntary whimpers you give out.

You hold onto your own knees for dear life, writhing under him as a hot coil tightens inside you. “Fu-fuck, Joonie, I’m getting close.”

His mouth detaches from your clit for a bare moment, enough for him to pant out a groan and stare lustily up at you. “Don’t cum yet,” he instructs lowly, “you’re going to cum on my cock this time, love.”

You whine, biting your lip harshly to try and distract from the building pleasure. “Then you have to- have to stop, Joonie,” you shudder out reluctantly.

To your surprise, Namjoon is even more begrudging than you are, tugging out his fingers to chase a last few indulgent licks up your seam before he finally sits up to kneel, panting. “Are you ready for me?”

You feel yourself grow impossibly wetter at the sight of him grasping his length, slipping it through your folds to slick it up. “Yes, god yes, I need it, need your cock,” you garble.

Namjoon’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, before he presses his head to your entrance, sinking in barely an inch to test your reaction. “Can’t wait to fill you up, love,” he admits, abs clenching with the effort it takes to sink in slowly. “Fuck a baby into you, my perfect girl.”

Your heart races at his words, clenching around. “God, yes, Joonie, please.” Though all the Gentlemen were well aware you were on birth control, there was something wildly erotic about the thought of it. “Fill me up, wanna be good for you.”

Finally he bottoms out, and your thighs shake at the stretch. With your hips tilted up, it almost feels like he’s fucking right into your stomach, so deep your mind struggles to process the sensations. He heaves a few breaths, giving you a chance to squeeze around him experimentally and grow accustomed to him filling you so completely.

You mumble out your permission for him to move breathily, the air punched out of your lungs when he pulls out only to drive deep inside of you in one slick thrust. Your mouth drops open once he begins to thrust, holding onto your knees for dear life as they tremble uncontrollably.

“God, look at you,” Namjoon pants out, chest heaving with excitement or exertion, perhaps a mix of both. One of his palms presses against the top of your stomach, increasing the pressure of his cock inside you. “‘Be so beautiful with my baby inside you, love, tummy swollen. I’ll take good care of you, would you like that?”

You have to squeeze your eyes shut to put all your focus into speaking. “Ye-yeah, I want that, Joonie,” you manage to articulate, his length keeping your mouth watering whenever he’s inside you. “Gonna be such a good daddy, Joon.”

Like a switch being flicked, Namjoon suddenly jerks, going rigid. Your eyes open blearily when he stills inside you, and you moan openly at the fucked-out look on his face, his eyes lidded and hair wild.

“S-say that again,” he commands, and your mouth drops open at the desperate grate to his voice.

So Namjoon liked to be called… “Daddy,” you whine experimentally, grinning when his cock twitches, hips juddering. “Want you to fuck me, Daddy, please move.”

“God, love, so fucking perfect for me,” he makes out before he starts off again with a renewed vigor, hands kneading at your breasts, at the flesh of your hips, at your ass as he lifts you up to meet his every thrust.

The feeling of him fucking into you so intensely has you feeling delirious, unsure if the ringing in your ears is actually the sounds of your own cries, torn from your throat with every slap of his balls against your ass, the weight of his hips jerking you into the pillow more and more every time.

You feel the pressure of his body hovering just above you, the angle of his thrusts changing, then suddenly his mouth is on your breast again, sucking harshly at the nipple. With the way your body moves beneath him, he can’t help but scrape his teeth against you a couple times, but it just makes the pleasure soar higher, neon starbusts of colour behind your eyelids when you squeeze them closed.

“Close again,” you warn desperately, losing the grip on one of your knees due to the sweat gathering there. With one up and one down, the angle changes again, and you reach out blindly to latch onto his upper arm, screaming at the heights of pleasure. “Can I cum this time, Daddy, please let me cum!”

“Fuck, give it to me, cum for me,” he growls out around your breast, and you see stars.

The orgasm that rips through you is powerful enough that all your senses fade suddenly away, unable to feel anything expect a rush of pleasure all the way down to your toes, boneless yet convulsing as he pistons his hips into you once, twice, three more times until he’s taken by the way you clench tightly around him.

He laps clumsily, wetly at your nipple as he spills inside you, before the two of you are completely drained of energy. Panting, heaving, you don’t even manage to catch your breath before you’re falling into slumber, Namjoon still inside you.

--

“He told us to wait here, right?” you ask anxiously.

There are six of you gathered on the couches in the lounge. Television off, the silence is weirdly uncomfortable. Perhaps that’s just because you know that everyone is waiting here not only to see Jimin, but to see what Jimin is going to do to you.

Hoseok, tucked into the smallest corner of the couch on the right, huffs lightly at your question. “He’s Jimin, Y/n. Either he’s up there primping or he’s just making you wait to be obnoxious.”

Perched beside him with a glass of whisky, two fingers full, Yoongi sends a droll glare to Hoseok. “Bold words for a man who’s choosing to watch the show.”

“I’m curious, sue me.”

“I think we all are,” Namjoon adds, curled up beside you in the central position of the three couches. “I think the only one that knows his prompt is Tae.”

Taehyung turns to answer, propped up against Jin’s side on the left, but the eldest interrupts, a crease of worry between his brows. “Not all of us, it seems,” he points out. “Don’t you find it strange that Jungkook isn’t here?”

“Does he know?” Taehyung wonders, fingers dipping into his pocket to reach for his phone.

Yoongi frowns. “He knows. He asked me not to make him anything for dinner tonight. Said he wasn’t feeling well. Didn’t seem like he was sick, just… distressed. I think you should talk with him, Jin.”

Jin sucks in a breath, pauses, and exhales again, jaw flexing. “Sure.”

The six of you lapse into a slightly strained silence again, before Namjoon gets restless, shifting beside you until he finally clears his throat and looks up at Yoongi. “What is for dinner, hyung?”

“We didn’t really have much for lunch, so I’m thinking steak and pasta,” the doctor offers up. “There’s some carbonara sauce in the pantry that looks good.”

Taehyung coughs nervously. “Do we have steak? I didn’t think there were-”

“We had plenty this morning when I checked,” Yoongi cuts in evenly. “Should I be aware of any recent developments?”

The masseuse pouts, leaning further into Jin’s side like he’ll protect him. “Well… It’s just that I feel so bad for Mango! The kennel I bought online isn’t as insulated as I hoped it would be and I know she gets lonely.”

Yoongi groans, going lax on the leather of the couch. “So you figured she’d what? Cuddle with the steaks?”

“I just figured maybe if I gave her nice food she’d cheer up,” Taehyung adds, “and it was just two! Are you mad at me?”

“No, I guess I’m not. Jungkook isn’t eating anyway, and…” Yoongi grins. “As penance, you can have plain pasta and watch the rest of us enjoy our perfectly cooked steaks.”

Taehyung throws himself against Jin dramatically, but even as he moans in misery, a relieved smile crooks at his lips. “I suppose,” he drawls begrudgingly, and once again a light atmosphere fills the room, like everyone’s just sighed out a breath of relief.

You lean onto the arm of the couch, facing Taehyung. “Tae, Jimin’s prompt isn’t too, like, intense, right?”

He cocks his head. “What do you mean? For him or for you?”

“Uh…” Your mind whirls blankly, cheeks heating up as you draw the attention of the other guys. “For- for me. So far some of the scenes have been pretty taxing, and I guess I just didn’t expect such a jump up from Week One.”

Instead of laughing or teasing, the others go a little solemn, perhaps even bashful. “Jimin’s isn’t super crazy, Y/n, don’t worry,” Taehyung assures quickly.

Yoongi bites down hard on his tongue, jaw popping. “We didn’t go too hard on you, did we?”

You suck in a breath. “I mean- No, not individually. It builds up though, you know?” Something niggles in the back of your mind, something you’ve wondered for a while. “Do you guys talk about it?”

Hoseok hesitates. “About fucking you?”

Your cheeks are on fire as you curl up small in the corner. “Not- Not that specifically, but just… Do you guys discuss who goes when and who has what? I kinda wondered why you spread yourselves out, if it’s just a coincidence or if you- Never mind, it’s stupid.”

“We kinda do,” Hoseok admits freely. “Like, obviously we don’t all sit down in a room brainstorming or something-” You don’t miss the way Taehyung and Namjoon instinctively lock gazes, though you can’t quite read their expressions. Hoseok continues, “but we do chat with each other and try and give each other space.”

Jin shrugs easily. “Yeah, like, I’ll just say in the groupchat, ‘I’m planning on doing my scene outside, look outside at your own risk’ or whatever.” The eldest stiffens as he’s fixed with several glares of alarm, including your own. “What? Were we not meant to tell her about the groupchat?”

Your mouth drops open. “You guys have a groupchat without me? I wanna see!”

“That defeats the purpose of you not being in the group chat,” Yoongi points out, though his grin is more sheepish than mischievous.

You make a noise of exasperation, ready to protest further, but before you can open your mouth the doorbell rings.

Everyone freezes.

After a moment, the doorbell rings again.

“You should go get it,” Taehyung supplies helpfully, eyes on you. “Might be interesting.”

Your heart picks up with the cool thread of adrenaline. It’s time. All eyes are on you as you sit up and make your way out to the foyer, the tile cool under your bare feet.

Though the door is a rich mahogany, clouded glass panels on either side betray a dark figure, perfectly still. Even though you can barely see the outline, there’s no deny the expectant tilt of their head belongs to none other than Jimin.

By the time you pad up to the door and turn the knob, his hand is outstretched to ring the bell a third time, and his mouth parts in surprise before giving you a pleasant beam.

You’d been wondering if he was meant to be a delivery guy, a mechanic, something along those lines, but your first glance over him proves you wrong.

His blue hair is glossy enough to reflect the light of the lamp above the doorway, curled in graceful swoops on his forehead and temples. Though he always wore makeup, it was clear he’s set to impress, with a bold russet red lip, powerful black eyeliner and a spot of gold under each eye.

He’s taller than usual, and you glance down automatically, to be greeted with the most gorgeous black heels, stiletto points giving him an extra few inches of height. The shoes make his legs look a mile long, and you suck in a breath as you follow them up, realising they’re completely bare, the only adornment a sinfully tight pair of black fishnets that dig in to his thighs and calves.

In fact, all he seems to be wearing otherwise is a black trenchcoat, falling to mid-thigh and with the sash tied so tightly it accentuates his narrow waist.

All put together, he looks like sin personified, the kind sailors drown for. You can’t help but want to dive in yourself. Trying to go along with the roleplay, you play dumb. “Do I, uh, do I know you?”

Jimin’s smile broadens as his arm falls, hand resting snugly on his hip. “You will soon, sweetness.” Usually one for pinks, nudes and clear glosses, seeing him suddenly in a deep red makes you realise just how full his lips are. You miss the feeling of them on you. “Did Taehyung not tell you I was coming?”

“Did Tae-?” You clear your throat, unsure how to proceed. This Jimin was Amazonian; bruisingly pretty and intimidating in his grace. “I guess not? Was he supposed to?”

His eyes crinkle empathetically, darting past you into the foyer. “Let’s talk inside, shall we? I’m not exactly dressed for the outdoors.”

“Oh, fuck!” you blurt instinctively, and you swear his lip twitches before you’re backing away hastily, ushering him inside. “I’m so sorry, please come in! Do you want me to take your coat? I don’t- I don’t know what you need.”

Jimin steps inside and closes the door behind him in one smooth motion, punctuated only by the click of his heels on the tile. He reaches out to pat your cheek, only somewhat condescendingly. “No wonder, sweetness, you didn’t even know I was coming.” That isn’t quite true, but in the scheme of things, you may as well not have known he was doing his scene tonight at all for all it’s helping you. “Why don’t you lead me to Taehyung? I assume he’s here.”

“Of course he’s- I mean, yes, he’s here. Right this way.”

The two of you only have a short trip to the lounge, where no doubt the other five have been straining their ears to eavesdrop, but every strike of his heels against the floor behind you has the hairs on the nape of your neck standing on end.

In the lounge, the guys are all turned around in their seats to shamelessly ogle Jimin, Taehyung the only one without the gobsmacked look on his face - though even he takes in an unsteady breath at how gorgeous the man looks.

You make your way to him, standing awkwardly in front of the couch that him and Jin share. Turning back to face Jimin, you can’t help but match Taehyung’s reaction. Jimin looks even more radiant in the decent lighting of the room. You can see now his trenchcoat is a lush fabric, slightly thicker than silk, and deeply matte. Around the inside of the collar is a faint embossed silver logo, promoting Chanel as the designer of that piece.

Ignoring the stunned silence of the room, Jimin slinks immediately to Taehyung, tipping his chin up with his knuckles. “Did you not tell Y/n about me, hm?” he questions with a faux pout. “Kept it a secret, our naughty Taehyungie.”

The masseuse wilts pleadingly under Jimin’s gaze, and the responding wicked grin makes you think that Jimin probably told him to keep quiet, only to tell him off for it now. “Sorry, Minnie,” Taehyung mutters nonetheless. “Wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Did you now?” Jimin lets go of him, stepping back. “I suppose we should get down to business, then. Are you all leaving, or do I have an audience tonight?” Glancing around imperiously, you watch as his eyes dart back and forth, smile faltering. His breath catches, eyes dull with disappointment that he quickly masks under a broad smile. “It’s just the six of you, then?”

Your heart aches as you think of the missing person still upstairs in his room. “Yeah, it’s just us.”

Always the professional, Jimin moves on without comment. “Well, then, sweetness; take a seat and get comfortable. You’re a lucky girl tonight.”

Your mouth feels dry even as it waters. Taking your seat beside Namjoon again, you watch in rapt anticipation as Jimin slips a hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone, fiddling with something on it as he strolls slowly into the center of the room, just in front of the television.

“We have a few rules,” Jimin announces. “No heckling, no getting drunk while I’m here, and no touching unless I give you permission. They’re simple, so I expect you to follow them. Got it?”

With his back to the group as he sets up his phone, you’re unsure who exactly he’s addressing, but some of you make general hums of confirmation, all the attention on Jimin.

When the music starts - a deep, thrumming beat with a sensual pace - you can see the change in him immediately, even from the back. His shoulders adjust, head tips back slightly like he’s letting it run through him, and his fingers find the knot of his sash.

You can barely comprehend the fact that Jimin is about to dance for you, breath caught in your throat when his hips begin to sway and the fabric of his trenchcoat loosens, slipping down just enough to reveal the tops of his shoulders, bare except two skinny black straps.

Following the groove of the music, he rocks his head back, hips shifting side to side, and lets the coat fall an inch at a time. A tight black bodice is revealed, structured leather with a soft velvet trim that covers most of his back. Sleeves dangling right at the ends of his fingertips, the coat dips just below the swells of his ass, which are clad in a racy g-string, a thicker band of lace low across his hips and a narrow one running down the middle of his cheeks. Letting the coat go completely, the last of his back silhouette is exposed, the leather garter straps that hold those fishnet stockings up.

“Shit!” Yoongi hisses under his breath, hands glinting in the light and whiskey glass significantly emptier than before. A dark patch spreads across one leg of his pants, evidence of him spilling his drink.

Though he was quiet, Jimin picks up on it, and turns smoothly, lightly surprised and heavily amused, watching Yoongi squirm in embarrassment as he approaches.

If the view from the back is breathtaking, seeing Jimin full-frontal is another level. The bodice has clearly been tailored for someone with a flat chest, but the shape no less speaks to the feminine style of a bra, roughly triangular leather covering the upper half of his chest to meet the smooth velvet straps. The whole piece is just short enough that it leaves a stripe of skin between fabrics, his hipbones jutting out gracefully and guiding your gaze lower, where the front of his lace panties strain with the size of his length, the tip threatening to peek out the top.

He’s hard, you notice with a start, and from the hazy look on everyone’s faces, they’ve noticed it too. Jimin likes this.

When he’s standing in front of Yoongi, towering over the other in his heels, he reaches out a hand silently, eyes darting to the glass in Yoongi’s hand.

The elder gulps, holding it up, blushing as Jimin wraps one hand around Yoongi’s wrist, and takes the glass from him with the other. In a graceful swill, he downs the last of Yoongi’s whiskey, not even wincing. Teasingly, he bends down to place the empty glass directly over Yoongi’s crotch, making him hiss.

Like he has all the time in the world, Jimin straightens up again and tugs the wrist in his grasp higher. Locking eyes, Jimin parts his lips and wraps them around the base of Yoongi’s thumb, sucking off the spilt liquor.

Yoongi groans lowly, cheeks stained red as his eyes flutter shut in a mix of pleasure and humiliation. As Jimin makes his way through all of Yoongi’s fingers, bobbing his head obscenely and swirling his tongue, you think you see the empty glass wobble on Yoongi’s lap, like his cock is twitching in his pants. Fuck. It’s not even you getting the full weight of Jimin’s attention and you already feel dizzy with need.

Once he’s done, Jimin lets go and Yoongi’s hand falls limply to his side. Satisfied, he moves to the center of the room again, hips fluid with the flow of the music.

A cursory glance around the room shows that you’re not the only one heavily affected. Beside you Namjoon is restless, shifting back and forth from spreading his legs to ease the pressure, and clenching them together to try and hide the bulge in his pants. Hoseok looks pale, eyes wide and locked onto Jimin’s ass as he walks away from their couch.

On the other side, Taehyung and Jin are significantly more shameless; Jin rests a hand on the back of Tae’s neck and tugs at the curls of hair there as the younger boy ruts against his thigh, curled into his side even as the two of them focus on the attraction in the centre of the room.

You can only imagine how fucked out you must look too, wriggling against the couch cushion seeking friction with your heart thudding in your chest. The effect is only heightened when Jimin locks his eyes to you and begins to dance.

One day, a few of you were gathered in this very lounge, having enough drinks to get a bit silly and uncoordinated. Jimin had told you all a little bit about his dancing career. From what he’d said, you formed this mental image of him in soft makeup and satin shoes, dainty but powerful in front of an adoring crowd. The way he spoke about music - too much of a heavyweight to be as incoherent as the rest of you - made it seem like it was his greatest love, a match made in heaven.

Though now pirouettes and grand jetés had been replaced by spread legs and lidded eyes, you could still see that passion he spoke of. It enchanted you like a snake charmer or a siren, and arousal entwines endlessly with awe in your stomach.

After what feels like the shortest eternity, the music of the first song fades out, and Jimin straightens up, exhaling a breath like he’s releasing its hold from his body to make room for the next.

The tune that fills the room next has a decently higher tempo than the first one, each beat punctuated by a clap, and he grins when he hears it, stalking forwards.

Between Jimin and the rest of you is a coffee table, and he makes his way around to Taehyung and Jin, eyes sparkling at how Taehyung straddles Jin’s thigh, blinking up at the dancer owlishly.

“Oh, baby,” Jimin coos, “enjoying the show?”

Taehyung nods, not shy but too wound up to speak.

At the lack of verbal response, Jimin grins, perching himself on Jin’s other thigh, making the eldest hiss. “Taehyungie,” Jimin calls in a sing-song voice, fingers winding into his hair, just above Jin’s, “you still haven’t paid me for my services, you know?”

“H-huh?” Poor Taehyung looks barely coherent, interrupted from his grind and staring weakly at Jimin’s glossy lips. You can’t imagine you’d be faring any better in his situation. “What- How do I pay you?”

Jimin faux pouts. “Normally I’m very expensive,” he admits lowly, but the room is silent apart from the music, and since it’s just playing from his phone, it doesn’t impede the rest of you listening in. “But I like you. I’ll take my payment tomorrow. You know what I mean, right?”

Taehyung nods dumbly, obediently, making the dancer grin wickedly.

Fixing his attention on Jin, Jimin trails his fingertips up his thigh and traces the outline of Jin’s cock in his makes, making him groan. “Take good care of my baby tonight, won’t you?”

Jin sucks in a shaky breath, eyes darting to Taehyung, but the curly-haired boy just whines and buries his face in the crook of Jin’s neck, a wordless display. “You got it, Min.”

From the other side of the room, a click of the tongue catches your attention. Hoseok is straight-faced, extricating himself from the corner of the couch to stand up and make his way out.

Jimin swiftly stands in front of him to impede his way. “Where are you going?”

Hoseok rolls his eyes with a shrug. “I came, I saw, I sated my curiosity. I’m not interested in waiting in line to be fondled, thank you very much.”

Jimin seems to have forgotten the music, eyes gleaming as he faces off the dom. “Poor baby too impatient to wait, hm? I’ll let you jump the queue,” he finishes in a husky voice, grinning.

Hoseok eyes the doorway behind Jimin, huffing impatiently. “Nice try. I’m not interested.”

Tipping his head to the side, Jimin’s brows lift in a mix of surprise and bemusement. “I’m inclined to disagree,” he says, taking a step closer so that only a sliver of air parts them. Hoseok stiffens, stubbornly avoiding looking at the dancer. “I’d venture a guess that you’re leaving so suddenly because you’re a little too interested.” Slow enough that Hoseok has plenty of time to refuse, Jimin runs his knuckles all the way down Hoseok’s front, brushing over his crotch. His grin widens, flashing white teeth. “Hmm.”

Hoseok scoffs and pulls himself away, neck and forehead slightly red. “Don’t get too cocky. It was from Taehyung, not from you, peaches.”

Even from the other side of the room, Jimin’s instinctual reaction is clear as day. His shoulders drop and his lips part, lashes fluttering before he can control the response.

If you didn’t miss it, Hoseok certainly didn’t either. He barks out a laugh, back in power again, and steps to Jimin’s side to pass him. “Knew it. Don’t miss me too much, then, peaches.”

Even as Jimin is shuddering at the petname again, Hoseok rears his hand back to smack Jimin’s ass with a sharp noise of impact, Jimin jumping forward with a startled squeak. “No touching!” the dancer hisses, one ass cheek already flooding with a sweet candy pink.

“Apologies,” Hoseok says with a teasing grin, already at the doorway, “I’ll see myself out.”

Jimin makes an indignant cry, but the older man is already bouncing up the stairs cheerfully. Determined to get the sexy atmosphere back, Jimin takes a deep breath and turns back to you all with a rueful smile, but it falters when the music fades out, the second song ending. “Ah,” he murmurs, “show’s over, kids.”

Namjoon, the only guy that hadn’t received any personal attention, sits up with a frown. “Wait, already?”

Jimin shrugs, smiling at him sweetly. “Sorry, Joon. Last song’s a private dance. Maybe another time.”

A private dance. Your breath quickens as Jimin turns off the next song that randomly came up on shuffle, collects his phone, and hitches his coat off the floor with the point of a stiletto, gathering it under his arm.

The others quietly start to stretch, sit up, Yoongi going to fill up his glass again. By the time Jimin makes his way to you, Jin has already lifted Tae up with a single arm under him, carrying the younger upstairs as Taehyung sucks shamelessly at his neck. Namjoon is slower to move, probably still a little worked up and edged from the show, but he joins Yoongi in the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone.

Once Jimin is directly in front of you, your breath stops. He’s gathered the lightest sheen of sweat from dancing, or perhaps that’s just the highlighter on his cheeks, and his eyes are hazed from the excitement of performing. He silently reaches a hand out to you with an enticing smirk.

You furrow your brow in confusion. “Not here?”

“I did say private. Unless you want me to fuck you where everyone can see?”

You gulp at the thinly veiled threat. “We can go.” You take his hand and let him lift you up with effortless strength, pausing when he looks at you expectantly. “Did I do something…?”

Jimin beams like you’re a cute but stupid pet. “I haven’t been here before, remember? Show me to your room, sweetness.”

“Oh!” You rush past him, hands catching to guide him out and upstairs. The thrill of excitement speeds your steps, and in no time at all he’s placing his coat and phone on your desk, guiding you to sit on the end of the bed.

The third song starts with the familiar smoothness of Beyonce’s voice, an older pop song that holds up still, and Jimin slips off the black straps of the bodice, another set directly below them. Arms tucking behind him, he begins to undo the clasps one by one.

“You were being very well behaved, you know, sitting there and waiting for your turn,” he muses, fiddling with the fabric behind him. “Now you get a reward.”

You don’t know what to say in response, just nodding wordlessly, but it seems he is content with that. After a moment, you notice the top half of the bodice pull away from his chest lightly, revealing not plain skin but more lace, matching the panties that struggle to cover his cock. He approaches you as he undoes the last few at the base, and slips smoothly between your legs, letting it fall to the side.

In front of you in all his glory, Jimin looks gorgeous, the inky swoops of his tattoo peeking out from under a sweet black lace bralette, the skinniest straps holding up the delicate cups. In the center is a tiny black satin bow, and you think you feel your heart give out a little at the sight of it.

Even in his pretty lingerie, he’s no less intimidating, and you shudder at the feeling of his eyes locked onto you, feeding on your reactions and pinning you to the bed.

“You like it?” the dancer asks, voice rough with arousal. You nod quickly, still too stunned for words. Jimin hums, winding a hand around the back of your neck. “Show me how much you like it.”

Before you can suck in a breath, his mouth descends on yours, and a shot of electricity runs through you as he spares no time for pecks and caresses. This kiss is nothing short of filthy, his tongue runs over your teeth, he bites your lips, he sucks on your tongue. You do your best to reciprocate enthusiastically, but there’s no question who’s in charge.

With how deep and primal it is, there’s no surprise when you feel your shared spit begin to collect in the corners of your lips and run down your chin. Jimin doesn’t stop, but lowers his mouth to lap it up, pushing it back in and continuing to fuck his tongue into your mouth.

You moan hopelessly into the kiss, hips rocking on the edge of the mattress fruitlessly and fingers holding on to his neck and shoulder for dear life. His teeth are sharp, nipping mercilessly at your bottom lip until your eyes sting, but it only serves to drive more need.

The music in the background livens up as it reaches the chorus, and suddenly the thought of the song finishing and him leaving you high and dry comes to mind. You tug yourself away from him, sucking the spit off your swollen lip. “Jimin,” you gasp out, “I want you.”

Jimin grins. Though his gloss is all but gone, the colour on his lips remains intact. “You aren’t gonna let me finish my dance, sweetness?”

“Wi-Will you still fuck me after the song ends?” you ask, feeling stupid for needing confirmation.

Jimin lets out a soft but condescending coo, hands squeezing your cheeks together so that your lips pout. “Poor baby just wants to get fucked, does she? Baby just wants a cock in her.”

Even as he mocks you, you can’t even defend yourself. “Please, Jiminie.”

He places a single light peck over your protruding and obscenely swollen lips. “Let’s make a deal; I’ll dance for the rest of the song, and if you can keep your hands to yourself, I’ll let you cum when I fuck you. Sound fair?”

At this point, you’d agree to anything, and both of you know it. “I can do it,” you insist even as your voice wobbles.

Instead of answering, Jimin begins to move, following the momentum of the music. Your hands lie at their sides, the duvet cool against your heated flesh.

He starts out easy, stepping back to give himself more space and slowly lowering into a crouch, the heels making his calves pop. Running his hands down his chest, fingers slipping under the lace, he sighs out like his own touch gives him unspeakable pleasure.

You grit your teeth. Watching him touch himself just makes you want to touch him more. He widens his legs, showing the place where the lacy band narrows down below his balls into a thin string. Whether it’s the angle or just the amount of moving he’s done, the tip of his cock has nestled up higher, poking out just to the side of his hip. Shamelessly, he runs a single fingertip over it, tapping so you can see the clear strands of precum that cling.

You let out an unsteady breath, relaxing slightly as the song begins to build to the final chorus. Not long.

Unfortunately for you, Jimin recognises the changing keys as well as you do, and he stands up smoothly, slinking towards you.

Instead of settling between your knees this time, he turns his back to you and bends down, folding himself in half to fully bare his ass. Hoseok’s handprint still pinkens the skin of one, and the sudden desire to reach out and see if it’s as warm to the touch as it looks overcomes you. You hiss and fist your hands in the fabric of the duvet cover, making Jimin stretch up with a laugh.

Merciless, Jimin widens his stance, choosing to sit on top of your lap, ass grinding on you. You can imagine this movement would be much more unbearable for a guy, but you still feel your resolve unravelling, taken by the fluidity of his hips, the lace accuentuating his slender waist, the pressure of his head as he tips it back onto your shoulder.

“This is so unfair,” you complain shakily, and are rewarded with the musical giggle Jimin lets out, bubbling from his arched throat right into your ear.

Luckily, the chorus ends, and the final notes settle down. Jimin’s hips still and he turns his head, lips just about brushing your cheek. “Good job, sweetness,” he praises warmly, “can I have another kiss?”

Your jaw jerks automatically before you catch yourself. Though it’s fading out, the song technically hasn’t ended yet. “Not yet.”

Shameless even as his ruse is exposed, Jimin just beams and twist around so that he’s straddling you face-on. He lowers his mouth to your collarbone, nibbling at the skin there as the beat fades and the overlaying instruments peter out. Though it must only be ten or fifteen seconds, it feels like forever as he rocks himself against you just like Taehyung had done to Jin - albeit less desperate and more strategic - and licks at the bite marks on your neck.

Finally, it goes silent, and you exhale deeply, hands automatically coming up to rest on his hips as he laughs lightly at your successful efforts. “I’m impressed,” he admits, “guess you get your reward after all, sweetness.”

So relieved that the heat between your legs will get some attention, you barely take notice of him standing up off you, at least not until he slips his cock fully out of the panties.

His cock, straining with being left unattended so long, is a far deeper pink than the mark on his ass, particularly around the head. He sucks in a breath through his nose as he strokes himself, before blinking down at you.

“Clothes off if you want me, sweetness.”

You could guarantee you’ve never undressed so quickly before, frantically enough that your hips are hot from the friction of tugging down your pants. You take no note, however, just spreading your legs wantonly as you eye up his cock.

“Fuck, look at you,” Jimin curses, bracing a hand on your hip as he lines himself up. “Don’t even need stretching, do you? Looks like Joonie opened you up for me already.”

Your cheeks burn, but there’s not enough time to dwell on the embarrassment, as Jimin holds you down with his grasp on your hip and bottoms out in a single thrust.

Even though he’s right, the sudden fullness has you gasping a moan, almost falling onto your back. You prop yourself up and widen your legs further, eyes locked on the sight of his cock, nestled underneath by the lushest black lace, buried deep inside you. “Fuck, please move.”

“My pleasure,” he coos with a sweet smile, before the smile drops to a slack pout of lust, snapping his hips with a deftness that you now know is due to his background as a dancer.

You fight to keep yourself sitting up, one hand around the back of his neck as he fills you with every stroke, but the angle isn’t quite right, and you find your pelvis shifting to find it.

Jimin notices your frustration, and wordlessly pauses, grips your thighs and tugs you forward so that you’re flat on your back, ass over the edge and held up by his upper body strength. Without you even processing the change, he’s returning to his ruthless place, and you sob from relief at the way your insides come alive with pleasure, so much stronger than before.

“Fuck, right there! Right- ungh, yes, Ji-Jimin,” you pant out, feeling unbearably hot all at once with the intensity of it.

Though part of you is still sore from the scene you had with Namjoon earlier, your swollen walls only increase the drag of him against your sensitive tissue, and you quickly turn incoherent, tongue so thick in your mouth that you open it, panting as your fingers clutch the duvet to anchor you.

“That good, huh?” Jimin notes with a laugh stuttered by grunts of exertion. Normally, you’d protest or retort, but with your ankles wrapped around him and back arching off the bed, there’s nothing on your mind but the enveloping urge to cum.

Rather than reply, you just let yourself drown in the sensations, vision going black as your eyes roll into the back of your head.

Your orgasm comes so fast that you don’t even notice it approaching, can’t even warn him. It’s like a clap of thunder, making you go stiff with a scream before turning completely boneless, legs slipping down off him weakly.

Jimin curses as you squeeze around him, but fucks you through it thoroughly, only slowing down once you begin to fuss, shivering and wriggling away.

Dazed from the sudden onslaught of pleasure, it takes you a few moments for the fog in your brain to clear. Once you do, you glance down and realise Jimin is still achingly hard, dripping with your slick and the remnants of Namjoon’s cum, but none of his own. He strokes it lazily, gaze searching your face.

So exhausted from two intense scenes in one day, you don’t think you could manage to jerk him off or give him a decent blowjob, but to leave him hanging would be cruel. Instead, you fumble to slide yourself off the bed, landing a little too hard on your knees.

“What are you- oh, Y/n, fuck,” Jimin exclaims lowly as you blink up at him and open your mouth, sticking your tongue out. He gets the message easily, speeding up his strokes as his tip bounces on your tongue, brief sparks of the salty tang of your shared arousal.

He must have been close before, because it doesn’t take him more than a minute to fall over the edge, cumming into your mouth with thick spurts. A shame it couldn’t have been inside you a different way, but you nonetheless chase his cock, blade of your tongue dipping into his slit to make sure you’d gotten every last drop.

Jimin swears lowly, stroking your hair back fondly as you swallow, and helps you stand up on wobbly legs.

Leading you to the bathroom, Jimin sits you on the closed toilet seat as he runs a bath. Having slipped off his heels somewhere back in the room, he unhooks his garters as he waits for the tub to fill. With one leg resting on the high edge of the tub, rolling down the fishnets one at a time, you once again are silenced in awe of his beauty.

It feels unspeakably intimate to watch him unclasp the bralette, slip off the panties, and slowly take his makeup off, easily locating the makeup remover he’d borrowed from you that very first night.

Your eyes sting a little as you’re reminded of that time. It feels like an eternity ago, even though it’s just under a fortnight. You’d thought he was so intimidating back then. Though he still had the power to command attention, you’d seen enough of the kindhearted, thoughtful and sensitive man beneath that the Jimin two weeks ago felt like a very different man.

“Water’s ready.”

You blink yourself out of that train of thought, letting Jimin help you carefully into the tub, joining you on the other side, legs tangled. “Thank you,” you manage to say, still feeling a little out of it after a tiring day and a good orgasm.

Jimin beams, glancing away to obscure some of his face. It’s clear to you that the lack of makeup has him feeling a bit vulnerable. His skin is flushed red - either naturally or from exertion you couldn’t tell - and his brows were softer, eyes looking smaller without the shadow that emphasised them. He wasn’t any less beautiful like this, just more human. Comforting, in a way, as he passes you a washcloth and begins to lather himself up in strawberry-scented bodywash.

“Hey, Y/n,” Jimin starts, but his voice sounds weirdly stilted and unlike him.

“Mm?”

“My, um, my…” He lets out a light cough, avoiding your gaze with an air of forced aloofness. “Granny keeps asking about you. She’s convinced we’re dating, but that’s, uh, I’ve assured her we aren’t. She really liked you, and whenever we chat she asks to speak to you, and, um…”

You feel more coherent than you have in a good couple hours, sitting upright. “She does?”

Jimin laughs ruefully. “I never really knew how to ask you if you wanted to speak to her, or if I should even ask you at all-”

“So you thought now, while we’re both naked in a tub after you fucking my brains out is the right time?”

Jimin’s cheeks colour more as he splutters. “You can say no, I just didn’t want you to… I don’t know. You can say no.”

You beam at him. “I have one rule.”

“What?”

“I’ll hang out with Mrs. Park on one condition.”

The blue-haired boy stares at you warily. “Which is?”

You lean forward with a deadpan expression on your face, making him grimace in worry. “You let me sleep in your bed tonight,” you explain gravely, “I’m running out of options for this Bangasm Bomb thingy, and it’s only fair after you just took me out of commission like that.”

Jimin laughs in relief, throwing his head back with a joyous grin. “Deal! Don’t scare me like that.”

You return his smile, heart swelling from the fondness you hold for him. “Of course I’ll chat with your grandma, Jimin. I love her. She reminds me of you a lot.”

You may have said too much, but Jimin goes lax against the opposite end of the tub, smile never leaving his lips, and you don’t regret it for a second.

[simpsiren]

johnny suh x reader

description. Being rich and having family problems was already one thing. Me lying about having a rich boyfriend will end up being another. I turned to the guy who I thought would best fit the role and help me keep up the lie, only to have it all come crashing down on us when we began to fell in love.

genre. fluff, angst, rich kids au, college au, contract dating/fake dating au, strangers to lovers au

word count. 8.7k~

warnings. nonee

a/n. honestly this idea is such a cliche but i wanted to write a story where the reader is rich and all and to have a major arch HAHA but other than that this story is hella long so bUckLe uP and enjoyy :D

I sat there at the family table that was filled with nothing but the sound of cutlery clanging against the plates as everyone ate breakfast in silence. It was my father who finally spoke up first with a, “We’re going to a party this Friday.” No one replied. Father exhaled sharply and placed his cutlery on the plate, bringing is hand up and interlocking his fingers.

“Sumi.” Father called out my name. I sighed and lifted my head up from the food I’ve yet to finish. “Bring your boyfriend. It would be nice to meet him for the first time and make sure you have a promising one.”

I gulped as I nodded slowly. “Yes, father.” I replied quietly as I bit the inside of my cheek.

As I took another bite, I was squeezing every idea I have out of my head. How am I suppose to get a rich boyfriend by Friday? The money that Father gave me to treat my so called boyfriend was used on myself and my own pleasures. I never bothered finding a boyfriend. Despite my parents knowing that, years have passed yet they never stop pestering me about it. 

“I have to go now.” I simply said, standing up from my seat and grabbing my tote bag that was hanging on my chair and went out the door.

You would think a rich kid like me would be wearing luxury items and come to school looking stunning and perfect. Well, not exactly. I drove myself to school. Father once asked me if I wanted a driver but I refused since my car was precious to me. The only other person who I could trust my car with was my brother, Lucas.

Speaking of which, I was about to start my car when Lucas suddenly appeared at the window screen, knocking on it. I rolled down the window with the click of a button. “Don’t-”

“Please ride me to school, Sumi.” Lucas begged. I groaned and pinched the bridge of my nose. “No.” I replied sternly. Lucas stopped his feet and whined loudly, practically having the tantrum of a little boy that made me shout, “My god shut up! Why can’t you use your motorbike?!”

Lucas puckered his lips and looked away for a moment before turning back to me, quickly leaning in and putting is head in the car.

“I might have gone racing with it and now it’s spoiled. Father doesn’t know so if you can quickly get me in the damn car.” Lucas cried out.

“Get in.” I admitted defeat with a sigh. “Thank you.” Lucas opened the door to the passenger seat as I started the car and began to drive.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop racing? Firstly it’s fucking racing you could get hurt. Secondly, it’s illegal and could land you in jail.” I spoke out.

Lucas kept silent for moment, probably not sure of what to reply. “You know we need the money. Father doesn’t simply give it to us. I earned one billion from racing last night. It’s how I make a living.” I could only suspire as I shook my head.

Being rich isn’t as perfect as it seemed. It wasn’t a privilege per say. Our family has been fucked up ever since my older brother moved out. Lucas and I have never met him before since he stole my Father’s money and ran away, resulting in his company to go bankrupt before when we were young. Because of him, my father was very strict on money. He wouldn’t give it to us with ease. Which was why I had to lie my way to the money.

I had to use the excuse that I already have a rich boyfriend that could “guarantee me a great future”. It was a terrible idea to lie because now I need to find my way around this and somehow have a boyfriend magically appear at the party.

“Make sure Father doesn’t find out about the motorbike. I’ll literally bring you in my room and kill you wholeheartedly if he knows about this.”

“At least I would die before I get a beating.”

I scoffed at his comment as the trip grew silent. After fifteen minutes, we finally arrived. I parked my car and the two of us walked in school. Just like every other day, a group of girls just had to surround Lucas bearing gifts and showering him with compliments. I felt uncomfortable nonetheless. Luckily, Lucas could sense my irritated aura and was quick to take all the gifts and shove the girls away, allowing me to speak. “Um by the way...”

“What’s up, sis?” Lucas asked while he greeted people in the hallway. “Do you possibly have anyone in your major that could fit the role of a rich boyfriend?” Lucas stopped in his track, making stop behind him as he turned around sharply to face me. “You still haven’t told Father the truth?” Lucas asked with a sigh of disappointment as I hung my head low and nodded. 

“I have the same excuse as you, alright? It’s how I make a living.” I retorted back as I reminded him of the conversation we had in the car. Lucas sucked air into his mouth that puffed his cheeks while he looked around the campus and observing any guy he saw on sight. Lucas’s face suddenly lit up and he gaped his mouth open and turned his head to me. “What about Jaehyun? Taeyong? There’s also Johnny.” Lucas said with a mischievous smirk. 

“You’re naming every guy on the fraternity.” I deadpanned. “So?”

“Are you dumb? Everyone in the fraternity is taken.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Not Johnny though.” I heard Lucas say with confidence, making me slowly tilt my head up.

I copied his wide smirk and folded my arms, leaning in slightly and whispering, “When and where can I meet him?” Lucas chuckled and nodded his head eagerly. “There’s an ice hockey competition tomorrow night. I’m pretty sure the frats are coming to the after party.”

“No need to thank me. I know I’m smart.” Lucas leaned in too and winked playfully. I laughed and punched him in the chest, making him wince in pain but soon recovered. 

“Could always count on you, dork.”

I hate it here.

The same phrase resonated in my head as I scanned my eyes over the party. Partying was not my thing. Never is, and never will.

Despite Lucas knowing that fact, he didn’t hesitate to shove a red cup filled with beer to my chest. I scrunched up my nose as I lifted my chin up to throw a sharp glare at him.

“Come on, get drunk once in awhile. Who knows, maybe Johnny Suh would come save you or some shit.” I cringed at the sight of Lucas downing the beer he had in his cup till it was fully empty.

I placed the cup on a random table and folded my arms while standing firm. Lucas was bobbing his head to the loud piercing music but soon stopped when he felt intimidated by the aura I was radiating. “Just help me find him, Lucas.”

Lucas drew in a long breath and held my wrist. “Okay, okay.” He groaned as he pulled me through the crowd, which was definitely not a pleasant thing when you have strangers bumping into in all directions. Lucas was smart enough to hold me close to him till we ended up in front of a random door.

“Why’re we here?” I entreated as I kept my arm wrapped around Lucas’s. He face palmed before pushing my arm off his and folding his arms while he placed his weight on one leg.

“Since you’ve never been to parties you don’t know this but this room is where the frat guys hang out.” Lucas jerked his head to the direction of the door beside us.

I blinked my eyes rapidly and I pointed my finger towards the door. “You don’t expect me to just go in and ask Johnny Suh, right?”

Lucas gave an exasperated expression. “Do I need to do everything for you? You’re so inexperienced...” With no time to mentally prepare myself, Lucas flung the door open.

The loud chatters that I heard when the door was closed soon died down as all heads were turned to us, clearly with raised brows and weirded out faces as they saw two strangers standing by the door.

I quickly hid by pressing myself against the wall with my head peeping out slightly to see what’s going on.

I definitely saw Johnny in there. But oddly enough, he was sitting at the corner of the room with two girls on both his sides, looking quite annoyed yet kept a blank expression to try pleasing the girls. Which, of course, worked all the time as they constantly swoon over him no matter what he did.

“My sister’s looking for Johnny Suh. Can he come out for a sec?” Lucas called him out. Without hesitation, Johnny stood up from his seat. All eyes turned and followed him as he walked out and Lucas closed the door.

Johnny turned around and saw me pressed against the wall. He glanced sideways towards Lucas before making eye contact with me. “I’ll leave you two to it then.” Lucas gave a light pat on my shoulder and left me and Johnny.

He turned around and gave a thumbs up. I was about to wordlessly signal him to come back but I was stopped when Johnny asked, “What did you call me out for?” He asked in a gentle voice.

I gulped, unable to meet his eyes as I tucked strands of hair behind my ear. “Are you drunk?” I asked. Johnny simply shook his head. “Okay great. Follow me.” I grabbed his wrist and led him to an unoccupied room.

I pushed him in and closed the door behind me. I could tell that Johnny was very confused as to what I was doing. I slide my back down against the door till I hit the ground. “At least it’s quiet here.” I mumbled under my breath.

“Are you going to tell me why I’m here?” Johnny leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. “You free on Friday?” Johnny raised an eyebrow in suspicion. “Yes but why?”

I took in a deep breath before saying, “Basically I need you to attend a party with me as a rich boyfriend.” I didn’t get an answer. Johnny only sat there as he stared at me for quite some time.

He pursed his lips into a thin line, racking his fingers through his hair. “Why me?”

“Because you’re the most suitable guy that fits the description of the fake boyfriend I need.” I replied nonchalantly as I stood up and shoved my hands down the pockets of my jeans. “You could ask anyone else.” Johnny added on.

I let out a quiet sigh and looked down to my feet before meeting Johnny’s gaze. “It’s just one night. On Friday. I need to show my father I have a boyfriend. Please.” I begged, walking close to Johnny and leaning in to his face, making him move backwards.

“What do I get in return?” I didn’t answer, looking around and taking time to think of one. I snapped my fingers and grinned widely. “Food. You can enjoy the food there.”

Johnny gave a mirthless laugh. “Food. That’s it?” He slumped his shoulders.

I shook my head vigorously in defense. “Free food, expensive food, delicious food-”

“You’re literally luring me with food.” He let out a half-laugh.

“Yes, yes I am.” I quickly admitted. I leaned in closer as a wide smirk grew on my lips. “But it’s working, isn’t it?”

Johnny exhaled sharply and rubbed the back of his neck. “Could never deny free food. But how am I going to look expensive, per say.” He lifted his fingers up and did quotation marks at the word expensive in the air.

I firmly gripped onto his shoulder and gave it a pat. “Don’t worry. I’ll deal with all that. Let’s meet some time to discuss about the other matter regarding this, alright?” With that, I left the room and closed the door.

I turned around and bounced on my toes, punching fists into the air as I finally got someone to help with my plan. I quickly cleared my throat and adjusted my clothes before squeezing through the crowd to get out of the party.

I flinched at the touch of a hand on my arm that pulled me away from the crowd. I sighed in relief when I noticed it was Lucas.

“Leaving already?” Lucas shouted, though it was drowned out by the background noises. I scrunched up my nose and frowned at the smell of alcohol that filled Lucas’s breath. I grabbed his wrist firmly and nodded my head. 

“Yes, I am. And with you.” I tried pulling Lucas out but was easily defeated when he stopped in his tracks and turned to a girl I barely knew. “Sorry, sweetie. Let’s meet next time.” Lucas leaned down and shouted to her before turning back to me with a cheeky smile. “Okay now you can drag me out.” I rolled my eyes and dragged him out of the house, once again having to deal with people coming at us every which way. 

We finally reached the front door. I pushed Lucas out before I closed the door behind us. “Finally.” I breathed out as I gasped desperately for air. It was way too stuffy in there due to the many people as well as the only thing that filled the air was the reeking smell of alcohol. 

“So what happened with Johnny. Did he accept?” I simply gave a lopsided grin with a lifted brow. Lucas nodded in affirmation as he instantly figured out the answer to his own question by the way I reacted. 

“I finally get to settle this boyfriend shit and continue getting money.” I said, me eyes practically twinkling as I envisioned myself doing all sorts of things with the money I’ll get from Father. “I bet the only reason he accepted was because he knows you’re my baby sister.” Half-shrugging, I opened the door to the car and jerked my head to signal Lucas to go in as well. 

The drive home was peaceful as I rolled down the window to feel the cool breeze blowing on my face. Luckily I had my hair clipped up so I didn’t have to suffer with tangled locks of hair. 

I dropped Lucas off at the west wing house. Just so you know, our mansion is huge. There’s the main house in the center, along with four other houses surrounding it. And those houses are huge. Lucas mostly spent time on his own in the west wing house, that’s why he’s always not seen with me and my parents in the main house to have meals together and such. 

I parked my car in front of the north wing house and headed inside, dashing straight for the showers, desperate to get alcohol smell off me immediately. 

Time check. Thursday afternoon. I did some research on Johnny and found that he’s majoring in Law. He has a class today which ends late afternoon so I figured of talking to him about the plan once he was done.

I was able to sleep in today since I didn’t have any classes or plans. I laid around in my bed for hours till the clock struck one in the afternoon, forcing me to finally get out of bed.

To my surprise, I met Lucas polishing his helmet in the lounge room of the main house. I decided to eat my lunch there with him. Bringing my plate of leftover fast food from the night I spent shopping, I sat beside Lucas and took a bite. “Aren’t you suppose to get ready to meet Johnny? He ends his class at four.” 

I took a quick glance at my phone to check the time. “I have like three hours.” I said nonchalantly as I let my body slouch into the bean bag I was sitting on. 

“You take three hours to get ready.” Lucas scrutinized me up and down, looking surprised at my words. “Quit looking at me like that. I’m not going to take long to get ready. I’m not in the mood to look fancy.” I huffed out. Meeting Johnny was my only plan today so I didn’t bother to look good if I’m only going to be spending a short time out. 

I hung out with Lucas till I was done with my food and realised that it was three and decided to get ready. I bid Lucas goodbye while he shouted a “Goodluck!” in exchange before I made me way to my room.

I didn’t take long to get ready since all I did was used light makeup and made a quick decision of wearing a white long sleeved turtle neck under a brown checkered vest along with a dark brown skirt and white platform sneakers. I picked out a random bag and shoved my necessities into it and headed out.

Thanks to Lucas, I was able to get Johnny’s phone number and texted him saying that I’ll reach in ten minutes. He was quick to reply and informed me that he was still in class. I replied back, telling him that I’ll be at the cafe beside campus. He left me on seen but I shrugged, not bothering about it too much despite it being my pet peeve since I knew he was in class.

I entered the cafe and ordered a cup of iced tea. I didn’t buy a drink for Johnny since I didn’t know what he liked and didn’t want to take any chances and waste my money if he doesn’t what I ordered. After playing about two rounds of COD Mobile’s Battle Royale, I heard the bell above the cafe’s door ring, telling me that someone has entered. Being too concentrated in the game, I didn’t realise a figure sitting in front of me till he knocked his knuckles against the table a few times. I looked up to find Johnny placing his bag behind him before turning to me. 

“You can order a drink first if you want.” I said with subtle smile. Johnny shook his head, leaning forward with his elbows against the edge of the table. “Eh it’s fine.”

I hooked my feet around the chair legs and pulled myself closer to the table, setting my palms faced down flat on the table. “Okay let’s go over a few things.”

“Firstly, I assume you have a suit because you’re a law major.” I took a sip of my iced tea as I saw Johnny nod and kept silent, motioning me to continue. “Secondly, the fake identity I came up for you is that you’re the son of the CEO of a well known major company in France and you earn money by renting out buildings that are worth millions. How’s that?”

Johnny didn’t answer, puckering his lips as stretched his neck by tilted his head to the side. “Don’t you think that’s too far fetched?”

I let out a ‘tsk’ as I reviewed it in my head, nodding my head slowly the more I thought about it. “But since you’re working in France I can make up the excuse that we’re doing long distance and you’re only visiting here for a short period to come to the party.” I said, adding on with a, “That way, you won’t have to do this again.” I gave a half shrug, bringing my drink in front of me and leaning down to take another sip, this time with keeping the straw in the mouth.

“That’s actually smart.” Johnny mumbled, snatching my drink and taking a sip, earning a raised brow and creased forehead from me. “I figured we should start getting comfortable now if we want to seem like a real couple to your parents.” He commented.

“You really are the perfect rich boyfriend I need.” I said with a wide mischievous smirk. Johnny chuckled and leaned back into his chair, folding his arms. “Sure. But I want money too. Not just the food.” A bright smile adored his face.

“I’ll give you anything if we get this done.”

Friday came with the blink of an eye. The party starts at seven and I decided to skip class today. Being rich meant that my parents don’t care about what I do, as long as I keep their image clean. I’ve always done well in my academics so it didn’t hurt to skip once in awhile.

While I ate breakfast, or rather lunch now that it’s afternoon, and scrolled through social media, I suddenly remembered one important thing I’ve forgotten to discuss with Johnny. I quickly sent him a text message.

[2:46PM] Sumi: wAit btw do you have a car to drive me to the venue?

I didn’t get an immediate reply so I simply continued scrolling through twitter. While reading the news, a notification of Johnny popped up.

[3:07PM] Johnny: I can borrow one, don’t worry. Just text me when to pick you up.

I heaved a sigh of relief and nodding, leaving his text on read and placed my phone screen down on the table and continued to eat while I admired the garden through the full wall window.

I spent my day peacefully by binge watching my show Netflix that I was two episodes away from finishing. Just when I thought I could accomplish my mission of completing the series, I looked at the time and groaned. “I’m too lazy to get ready.” After constantly whining and rolling around in bed, I finally got up and headed over to my walk in closet.

Once again, I didn’t bother to try hard finding something to wear. I only grabbed the first clothing item on sight that caught my eye, which was a dark blue long dress with skinny straps a low cut neckline. It had silver embellishments all over and because of that, it meant that I didn’t have to wear a bunch of jewellery to make it look expensive.

I threw it on and wore light makeup that allowed my natural beauty to shine through, along with a silver necklace that had a star hung on it and white high heels. I finally paired it with a white sling bag and shoved my necessities in.

I sent a text to Johnny that he can come to my house now to pick me up. He was quick to reply with an, “Okay.” as I made my way from the north wing house and to the main house where Johnny could pick me up so as to not confuse him with the complex structure of the mansion.

I ended up waiting at least twenty minutes at the pick up roundabout when I finally saw a car driving in through the entrance and coming to a stop in front of me. I saw Johnny in the driver’s seat and quickly went in the car.

“Can you send me the address?” He asked while I tried to get comfortable. “Oh yeah, sorry. Hold on.” Johnny had once hand on the steering wheel while the other was placed on his thigh. Sure enough, he looked high class in the grey suit he had, along with a dark blue tie that coincidentally matched my dress and hair that was slicked back handsomely.

While I was texting him the postal code, I froze in my spot when Johnny suddenly got close to me and reached his hand out to the side of my seat. I blinked my eyes as I tilted my phone down. I was pretty sure my breathing stopped for a second due to how close he was as I got a clear look of his side profile that looked nothing but stunning. I would be lying is I said my heart didn’t skip a beat at his little action as he fastened the seatbelt for me.

Once I’ve sent him the address, Johnny started the car and began to drive. It was silent for a moment until Johnny cleared his throat, making my gaze from the window and to him. “I’m actually kind of nervous. I honestly wouldn’t know what to say and all, depsite me knowing my role.”

I hummed and fiddled with the strap on my dress. “It’s fine. I’ll do the talking. Just be as formal as possible.” I advised him as a way to comfort him with a shrug. I tried to act as calm as possible to some what help Johnny feel the same.

Johnny turned to glance at me, noticing I kept looking out the window. “Should I open the window for you? It’ll be better an air conditioning.” I nodded with glee. “Thanks. I actually like it when the windows are down.” I said as Johnny pushed the button that rolled the window down.

The moment I felt the cold breeze on my face, I sighed in satisfaction. Though that feeling didn’t last long as my hair stared to fly everywhere. I could already tell I needed to handle my messy tangled hair after this. Breathing in the night air, I looked to Johnny who stole a quick glance at me. “I know, my hair’s ugly. I’ll fix it later.”

Johnny doesn’t answer as we finally arrived at the entrance of the party. Johnny’s jaw dropped at the looked at the huge and tall building. I laughed at his reaction and poked his shoulder with my finger, jerking my head towards his window. Johnny flinched back at the sight of a guy waiting outside the car. “Give him the keys and he’ll drive the car to the parking area.” I said and stepped out. Johnny stepped out as well as quickly handed the guy his car keys before running up to me.

“Holy shit this looks is so grand...” Johnny muttered to me. I chuckled as I slid my phone into my sling bag. Johnny then grabbed my arm and linked it with his. I looked up to him, twitching a brow. “What? Isn’t this what couples do?” He asked, copying the expression I had on my face. I exhaled sharply and pulled mysef close to him till our sides were touching.

Johnny suddenly turned around and looked down on me. “The hair.” He painted out. Before I could do anything about it, he leaned in and brushed my hair through his fingers gently as he got rid of the tangles in my hair. Once again I froze in my spot as I tried my best to hide the heat I felt on my cheeks.

“Okay, let’s go in.” At the same time, me and Johnny pushed our shoulders back and stood strong as we walked into the party.

“Can you not look so nervous? It’s scaring me.” I whispered while watching Johnny play with his glass of wine, swirling the liquid in his hand. I saw beads of sweat dripping down the side of his face. I decided to take a cloth from my sling bag and dapped it off gently.

“If we’re lucky, we might not even see Father because he’ll be too busy talking to other people. He might also forget that he wanted to meet you.” I didn’t hear Johnny reply. I look up from my drink to see him staring behind me. I turned around and my eyes immediately darted to the man who stood out from the crowd, suddenly walking towards us. 

“I’m guessing that’s your father.” I quickly turned around and duck my head low, thinking I would be able to hide but couldn’t since Father already saw me and called out my name. “Sumi!” Father called out. I placed a hand on Johnny’s arm and patted it. “Okay let’s chill.” I whispered, taking in deep breaths to calm myself down. Before Johnny could say anything else, I turned back around to meet Father with a wide smile. 

Father hummed in response, his eyes immediately going to Johnny and scanned him up and down. Johnny looked at me as if he was asking for help and I could only mouth out, “Greet him.” 

“Good evening, sir. I’m Johnny, Sumi’s boyfriend.” Johnny introduced himself as he adjusted his blazer and buttoned it up smoothly. Despite looking so nervous a moment ago, I was shocked at how well he was acting. Father gave a half-smile and nodded his head. “So this is him I see...” Father muttered under his breath. “He can’t stay for long since he lives in France and needs to resume work soon.” I added on, linking my arm around Johnny’s and glanced up to see Johnny looking as calm as ever. 

“Ah so what do you do in France?”

“Rent out my properties, sir.” 

Father cleared his throat and glanced sideways. “I’m guessing you earn enough for yourself?” Johnny laughed gently and nodded. “Of course, sir. More than enough me and Sumi.”

I could only hold my breath and I wondered how long this conversation would last. As Johnny noticed my nerve wrecking state, Johnny quickly spoke up. “I think you have some business men that are willing to talk to you at the back there. They came up to me asking where you were.” Johnny said swiftly. “Till next time, then. I hope you’ll stay longer here before going back to France.”

“Of course, sir. Have a great evening.” With that, Father finally turned around and disappeared into the crowd. Both Johnny and I let out sighs of relief and taking in deep breaths before looking at each other. “Like hell is Johnny gonna stay here any longer.” I muttered as I glared. Johnny laughed at my action and shook his head. “Now where’s the food?” Johnny with desperation, his head turning in all directions. I giggled and held his hand, tilting my head to where the catering area was. 

Johnny’s mouth gaped as open as it can be just like when he first saw the building from outside. He immediately dashes over to the dessert area. I adjusted my dress before going to him. “Don’t you want to have a proper dinner?” I asked, my hand motioning over to area where proper meals were handed out. Johnny shook his head with glee as he grabbed a few macorons and shoving it into his mouth all at once. I chuckled and took one as well, taking a bite out of it before grabbing a plate from the side and handing it to him. “Put what you want here and we can eat somewhere else.” 

Johnny didn’t hesitate to take one of every dessert that was offered, especially macarons in every colour. Once he was done, he turned to me with his mouth still full from all the items he shoved in. I nodded my head and guided him out of the party and to a garden.

Johnny and I sat down on a bench that gave a clear view of the night sky. Since the venue was up a hill, we could practically see the whole city from up here. I breathed in the night air and sighed in satisfaction before turning to Johnny who was still eating. I took one of the desserts and ate them. “Don’t eat all those by yourself.” I complained, letting out a ‘tsk’ after and rolling my eyes. Johnny offered a dessert and I ate it wholeheartedly. “If this is what I have to do as your boyfriend, I’d gladly do this all the time. Just call me and I’ll be there.” Johnny said as he swallowed what he ate and hummed happily. 

“I told you the food here is good.” I said with a laugh as I watched Johnny ate. He left a few desserts on the plate and placed it beside him before putting his arm on the back of the bench and turning on me. “Say... Why don’t you get an actual rich boyfriend? Why do you need to lie?” Johnny asked me with his gentle and sweet voice. 

I pursed my lips into a thin line, taking in a deep breath before answering. “My father doesn’t give me and Lucas money even though we’re rich. The only way I could get it is if I say I have a rich boyfriend and pamper him with money so that I can live a comfortable life.” Johnny gave a frown and leaned back into the bench. “But why not get a real boyfriend?” 

“Because I want the money for myself only. I’m not interested in dating and shit.” I said as I turned to Johnny, my eyes widening as I noticed Johnny looking at me intensively as if he was scanning his eyes down every inch of my face. He was quick to shale his head and acted as though he wasn’t looking at me. 

“And Lucas does illegal racing...” Johnny muttered as I nodded my head. I leaned forward and rested my chin on the palm of my hand, closing my eyes to rest them for a moment. I felt Johnny moving around in his seat, not sure of what he was doing till I felt a hand on the side of my head, guiding it. I looked up to find my head resting on Johnny’s shoulder with him looking straight ahead. He looked down on me and gave a gentle smile. “You seem tired so.” Johnny shrugged. 

“Thanks.” I whispered. The two of us sat there, silently admiring each other’s comfort. I closed my eyes and seemingly fell asleep as I found the comfort of Johnny’s presence and the cold air blowing on me. 

After awhile, I finally woke up. I rubbed my eyes vigorously and looked around, realising I was in Johnny’s car in front of my house. Johnny turned to me when he heard me sniffle. “You were asleep for quite some time, miss.” Johnny said, moving towards me and once again getting extremely close to me as he released the seatbelt on me. I cleared my throat. I noticed Johnny didn’t have his blazer on him. I looked down and saw that it covered me like a blanket. “You can keep it. It must be cold outside. Quickly get in and sleep, alright?”

I nodded my head and got out of the car. Before turning away and walking in, I bent down slightly to meet Johnny’s eyes. “Thank you.” I said out loud, despite knowing Johnny couldn’t hear me through the window. He bowed his head before starting the car and driving away. I watched the back of the car till it was out of sight. 

I got in and did my usual routine of washing up. As I got into bed and started playing with my phone, my eyes slowly went to Johnny’s blazer that was sitting at the edge of my bed. I grabbed it and held it out in the air, tilting my head as I thought about the night I spent with Johnny. I couldn’t help but think about how comfortable I felt with him. I felt like Cinderella at the ball. He was gentle, sweet and caring. He was like a perfect boyfriend to have. Too bad our relationship was only an act, and nothing more as the moment I stepped into my home, all the magic I felt that night disappeared into thin air.

I just finished class and as I was walking down the hall to get to the parking lot. I saw Johnny coming out from one of the meeting rooms. I ran towards him and tapped his shoulder from behind, making him turned around to look down at me. “Hey Johnny!” I exclaimed, waving at him.

Johnny smiled happily. “Hey.” He greeted back, placing his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. “What’re you doing here? You don’t have classes today if I recall.” I said as I recalled the information from the research I did on Johnny. “You really did a thorough check on me, didn’t you?” I laughed and nodded my head with a shrug of my shoulders.

“I had a meeting with the frat.” Johnny jerked his head to the direction of the meeting room. “Anyways I’m glad to run into you here. Do you have plans today?” Johnny looked up into the sky with furrowed eyebrows before tilting his head back down and shaking his head. “I don’t think so. Why?”

“Great! I just got money from my father and I want to treat you out as a thanks for last Friday.” I pulled out my wallet and waved it in front of it. Johnny snatched it out of my hands and opened my wallet only to have his jaw drop and at the amount of money inside. “How much did he give you exactly?” Johnny widened his eyes as he brought my wallet closer to his face.

I had to tiptoe to I snatch my wallet back due to the drastic height difference between me and Johnny and took out the money from my wallet. “Eh about five thousand.” I shoved the money back in. Johnny leaned in to look at my wallet once again. “No wonder it looks so thick.” He muttered. I laughed and smacked him lightly in the shoulder. “I’m at your service to grant you whatever you want.” I faked a curtsy and grinned. “Hm I have a place we could go.” Johnny said with a finger on his chin.

I ended up taking Johnny to a cafe of some sort. It wasn’t too expensive and it wasn’t too cheap either. “Why here when you can literally spend five thousand dollars on anything else?” I asked as Johnny opened the door for me and we both went in. “To be honest, I’d feel bad for spending your money so I just thought of spending time with you.” I subconsciously eyed him up and down, causing Johnny’s grin to become more cheeky.

While Johnny and I were looking up at the menu above the counter, my eyes scanned the cafe as well, until one person that caught my eye wnd made me do a double. “For fuck’s sake why is she here?!” I whispered as I started to slap Johnny’s arm rapidly, causing him to fly back. “Are you okay? You crazy or something?” Johnny joked with a big laugh.

“No, you idiot! Look!” I pointed to the girl sitting by the window with another man. “She’s my cousin and I don’t want her to see me because she’s always trying picking a fight.”

“Let’s go out then?” I nodded desperately as I linked my arm with Johnny’s. Just as we were about to take the first step. I heard my name being called out. Oh God.

“Sumi. Nice seeing you here.” She said with the most fakest voice and smile I’ve ever head. “Thought you were in Sydney?” I asked, offering to give a half-smile as the bare minimum.

“Well I’ve done my business there so I’m back.” She replied, folding her arms as she turned to Johnny and eyed him intensely. I furrowed my eyebrows in annoyance. “Who’s this fine man?” She asked in a seductive manner, bringing her hand up to Johnny’s shoulder and grazing her finger over it as she admired his face.

As Johnny started to feel uncomfortable, he faked a smile and shoved her hand away, proceeding to wrap his arm around my waist and pulling me close. “Sumi’s boyfriend.” He announced, completely not fazed by my cousin’s flirting. Of course I couldn’t help but blush at his words as I suddenly felt embarrassed and felt butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

My cousin nodded her head slowly, glancing at me and noticing how awkward I looked. I saw the look of suspicion in her face and immediately tried to stay as calm and natural as possible. Though that didn’t work out much as my cousin suddenly said, “Doesn’t look like it to me.”

“Well we are together. I’m totally taken. Actually we have somewhere to be so if you’ll excuse us.” Johnny bowed his head slightly and removed his arm from my waist, proceeding to grab my hand and interlocking our fingers and pulled me out swiftly.

“That was terrifying.” I ran a hand through my hair. Realising my hand was still interlocked with Johnny’s, I tried pulling away, thinking that it made Johnny uncomfortable. But he held my hand tighter the moment I tried to let go.

“Let’s continue to hold hands in case she comes out or s-something.” Johnny’s stuttering in the end really made it clear to me that it was just an excuse. I chuckled and nodded my head. “Sure thing.” I said with a playful wink.

“Besides, I actually like pretending to be your boyfriend. Sumi’s boyfriend. It sounds good whenever I say it. Ah I’m impressed with myself.” Johnny sighed dreamily as he began to walk. Though, I couldn’t.

I was completely frozen and my mind went blank at his words. I’m pretty sure my face was blushing a brighter pink now as it felt more heated than before. I bit my lip before looking up at him when he called my name. “You comin’?” I shook my head to get rid of my thoughts of Johnny, giving him a smile before skipping forward. “Let’s.”

After that day, Johnny and I began to get close. Very close, and very quickly. And to think this fake dating only lasted for that one night. It was obvious after the many secret hangouts we’ve done that we liked each other, a lot. Arcade dates, amusement parks, trying out every ice cream store in the city, you name it.

Unfortunately, we had to keep this all secret. Which meant we couldn’t post on social medias and we had to be cautious whenever we go out. Regardless, we still had fun spending time together. I was able to lie to Father for more than a year now.

Slowly but surely, our fake dating scheme became more and more real. That is until one major problem that I expected to come have finally arrived.

“This man... He isn’t like what he seems, am I right?” I didn’t answer.

All of a sudden, we were here. With Johnny standing in front of Father while Lucas stood beside him. Along with my cousin who was smugly looking at the situation in front of her. Johnny and I hung our heads low, unable to give Father an answer.

“Father don’t blame it on him. I’m the one who asked him to do this. I did this so you can continue giving me money.” I explained, trying my best to get Johnny out of this mess.

I couldn’t help but take a quick glance at my cousin. How did Father find out you ask? My cousin caught me going out with Johnny despite me telling Father that “he was already in France”. I glared at her as she giggled under her breath. That bitch.

“You did it for money? Okay, you want money? Go to Sydney. Work for your cousin and earn the money yourself.”

I gulped, lifted my head up and turning to my cousin, who squealed with excitement as she stomped her feet. “Really, Uncle Kang? I’d love to have her with me in Sydney!” She shouted, though I could sense her devil like nature the moment Father looked away to Johnny and giving me a wide smirk.

“Sir, that’s not necessary. Don’t send her away. I promise I won’t go near her again.” Johnny begged with his palms pressed together. I bit my lower lip hard as I balled my hand into a first.

“Johnny has nothing to do with this. Don’t make him beg.” I growled. Father let out a scoff in amusement as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants.

“I’m sending you away regardless. And you’ll find a better partner there in Sydney. Understood?!” Father’s sudden raise in tone made everyone jump out of their skins in terror.

“Fuck you, Father.” I cursed out, grabbing Johnny’s wrist tightly. As soon as I wanted to drag him out, the two bodyguards that were standing at the entrance removed my grasp of Johnny, holding him back.

“Pack your things. You’re flying tonight.” Father said before exiting the scene. Johnny was dragged out of the house. And I was held back by Lucas.

After that night, I never got to see Johnny again. I cried for days on end while I made my trip to Sydney, wondering when will I ever meet him again, or if I even could.

3 years later.

Finising work at eleven due to my cousin bossing me around to do useless things made me reach my limit of exploding in anger. I could have thrown a table at her if I wanted to but I was too kind for that. I was just glad I was able to come home and lay myself head first into my bed.

Opening the door, I was greeted by Winwin watching the television. “Hey!” He shouted, wanting to wave his hand at me but chose not to as he saw the look of anger and tiredness in my face, along with my slouched back and weak movements. “Jee did she give you a hard time again?” He asked, pressing the controller to pause whatever he was watching.

I dragged my feet to the couch, throwing my bag on the table and taking the empty spot next to Winwin. “She fucking puts me through hell almost everyday.” I hissed, running my hand through my hair in frustration. “Deep breasts, Sumi. Deep breasts.” Winwin joked, making me laugh. It was an inside joke me and Winwin came up with and it never failed to elevate the atmosphere.

“Shut the fuck up.” I said as I laughed harder and punched him in the shoulder. Suddenly, a notification came up on my phone as the clock struck twelve. I unlocked it to check what it was. My smile quickly turned into a frown as I saw the alert on my calendar that today is Johnny’s birthday.

Winwin saw my drastic change in mood. From being pissed, to laughing and now being quiet and sad. He placed a hand my back, rubbing up and down slowly as I kept my eyes on words on the screen, the words resonated in my head.

“It’s been three years, Sumi. Despite all that, I’m sure he hasn’t forgotten you.” I could only suspire in despair.

“If only I could have any form of communication with him. What if he sees the news of us getting married? Fucking hell all this is fucked up.” I slammed my phone screen down beisde me and pressed my hands on my face as I couldn’t hold back the tears that welled up in my eyes.

“As your fiancé and friend, I suggest you fuck whatever your father’s making you do and go back to him. I hate seeing you like this, Sumi. It hurts.” Winwin whispered.

When I reached Sydney three years ago, Father didn’t hesitate to force me to get engaged to Winwin, an actual rich man who is the heir of a large company. We were only engaged for the connection of two big companies and nothing more. Nonetheless, he was a good friend to stayed with me through all my hurtful days and hardships while I grieved about my separation with Johnny.

I sniffled and gulped before bringing my head up to look at Winwin. “But how? Father tracks my every move in my phone. My location, who I text and call. What I post on my socials. I can’t escape him.” I bit my lower lip as I ran a hand down my face, waniting to wipe off my tears but of course it was to no avail as the tears couldn’t stop flowing down.

“No. Fuck all that. Contact him. And run away once you’re with him. Whatever happens, I’ll be the one to settle it for you, okay?” My lips quivered as I forced a smile and bringing Winwin in for a hug.

“Thank you, so much. You’re a great friend. I’m sure you’ll find someone who’ll appreciate you.” I whispered as I took my time to admrie his embrace, being the only thing that brought me comfort.

With that, I texted Johnny through Instagram. I knew Father would see our conversation but at this point, I didn’t give a damn. I’ve been wanting Johnny for three years. I missed him way too much I couldn’t handle it no more.

I informed Johnny on the very same night that I’ll fly to Paris and meet him there, so that we could stay there for a couple of months before flying back. Luckily, he was down for the idea. Though I was scared that Father would already know my location, I didn’t care. I’d fly to any country with Johnny and not have him find out. I’ll go through such extends just to have Johnny by my side again.

The next day, I booked a flight and packed every single one of my belongings. I bid Winwin a last warm farewell before I headed to the airport. I was extremely cautious about the fact that I might get caught since Father’s bodyguards could be anywhee near me, which is why I tried to be as discreet as possible.

I finally got into the plain without any slip ups. I absentmindedly looked out the window as I thought about Johnny. Over three years, of course I’d expect him to be different. But how different? Did he change much? Anything can change within three years.

I couldn’t fall asleep with my thoughts of Johnny running circles in my mind the whole flight. Soon, we finally landed.

I didn’t tell Johnny where to meet him in the airport specifically since I forgot. I was about to text him when I suddenly hear people shouting at the entrance. I turned my head to see the Father’s bodyguards asking everyone if they’ve seen the girl in the paper they held up in the air.

I widened my eyes at the sight and immediately panicked. Of course Father would have some connections here in Paris. Why was I so dumb to forget such an information? I wasted no time to act calm and brisk walk as far away as I could, though their voices became louder and louder as they got closer.

I looked back to check where they were and as I was about to turn and walk forward, I was slammed against the wall. I looked up and gaped my mouth open in shock.

“Johnny? I-”

I was quickly cut off when Johnny’s lips connected to mine, his arm wrapping around my waist while his other hand was against the wall. I couldn’t resist and kissed him back wholeheartedly. I missed his touch too mucb. I missed this feeling that I could only feel whenever I’m with him.

Johnny held me close till the bodyguards went past us, luckily they didn’t seem to even spare a glance our way. I was the first to pull back from that kiss that was about to get heated quick, gasping for air.

“I waited for you, for so long.” Johnny breathed out, tucking the messy strands of hair that covered my forehead behind my ears.

“I missed you more. I missed you so fucking much.” I hugged him tightly, digging my face into his chest as my tears started streaming down my cheeks again, leaving a wet spot on Johnny’s white shirt. He cupped my cheeks in his hands and brought my head up to look at him.

“Sh... I’m here, okay? I’m here now.” I sucked my lips in as I clsoed my eyes for a moment.

“I don’t care where we go next. As long as I’m with you. Please stay right by my side and never let anything cut between us again.”

Johnny nodded with his gentle smile. The one I missed dearly, and the one that never failed to put an impact on me.

“I will. I promise. Because I love you.”

[lilxberry]

The Glitch: Chapter Two

Synopsis;

Wanda certainly had attracted the newest Avenger. Y/N’s usual overconfident façade seems to easily drop when around the Sokovian witch.

Warnings: Language. I think that’s pretty much it for now, unless you wanna be warned about hella sarcasm and snarky remarks too lmao

Words: 1,010 

Pairing: Avengers x reader, Wanda Maximoff x reader (later chapters)

(A/N: For future knowledge, chapters will be kept under 3000 words)

< CHAPTER 1  CHAPTER 3 >

--- flashback ---

‘Man, those assholes were ANNOYING.’

Y/N stretched her arms above her head, groaning slightly, cracking her back, working out the painful kinks that developed from the whole bank fiasco.

She had rid herself of her jacket as she moved further into her apartment. “And what do I feel like having today?” She questioned herself aloud, swinging the fridge door open to scour the selves for food.

She huffed and straightened her back, slamming the fridge door shut with her hip before proceeding to search the freezer instead. 

“Bingo!” She reached in quickly and retrieved the piece of frozen plaice she got a few days ago from the store, smiling victoriously.

Preheating the oven and setting the piece of fish on to a cooking tray, she places the tray with the fish into the crematorium for food before getting herself the box wine from the kitchen and heading over to couch.

Kicking her shoes off, she swings her legs up on to the couch, sprawling herself along the faux leather seating, afterwards turning on the T.V. and waiting for her food to finish cooking.

_______________

Her meal had finally heated thoroughly, Y/N now had the finishing touches to add.

Setting her plate down upon the dinning table, she seats herself with her meal in front. She picked up a sliced, fresh lemon, squeezing the sour fruit to further add flavour to her fish.

Satisfied, she smiled picking up her knife and fork, ready to devour the plaice before her. She sliced a small bite off, impaled by the fork. She brought it up to her lips, almost shoveling it down her throat when-

‘KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me, man.”

Y/N let out an aggravated groan as she threw her utensils back on to the plate with a loud clatter and stood up harshly, chair scraping against the kitchen floor, enough to make her screw her features up and cringe.

She shuffled towards the door. “If you’re girl scouts, try shoving the cookies through the letterbox and I’ll slide the money under the door.”

“Unfortunately, Miss Y/L/N, we aren’t selling cookies.”

She threw the door open and leaned against the door frame, eyeing the man. “Oh boy, I see this lil’ girl scout hit puberty. Sounds like she started smoking too.” She felt humoured at the remark, though his face held no amusement. She noted his attire and quirked an eyebrow. “Listen, patches, I don’t want whatever it is you’re selling so please, fuck off so I can enjoy my dinner. Thanks, BUH-BYE.”

She moved to close the door when he barged into her apartment. “No, you listen, glitch, we have a lot to discuss, whether you like it or not. What happens after our little conversation, is entirely up to you.”

The use of the word ‘glitch’ had made her stiffen, her posture made rigid. His voice held an threating underlining tone as he spoke with authority. All she could do is nod slowly, showing she understood.

“Good. Now, Miss Y/L/N, I’m director Nick Fury of the organisation S.H.E.I.L.D. and I’m here to discuss recruiting you, and your abilities, for the Avengers”.

‘WHAT. THE. FU-’

--- end of flashback ---

_______________

“Pardon my Goddamn French but what the fuck, Fury?” Stark started, shortly followed but Steve muttering ‘language’ under his breath.

“Seriously, you can’t just spring shit like this on us!”

“I believe I can, I will and I have.”

Soon began a shouting match between Nick Fury and the Avengers. Some trying to defuse the tension, some inputting their out thoughts on the sudden matter at hand and others continue to spectate whilst sitting on the couch still.

Y/N rolled her eyes and groaned loudly, gaining the attention of the people in the room. “Listen, C-3P0,” she spoke, gazing pointedly at Tony. “I get this may not be ideal for you and the others but it sure as shit ain’t ideal for me either. First, my trip to the bank went tits up ‘cause some inconsiderate assholes decided to hit it, then patches her interrupts my dinner, now I’m gaining a migraine ‘cause you asshats wanna scream at each other and still, no one has answered the ONLY question I’ve asked.”

Peter could only let out a snicker, trying to hold in his laughter, at her hilarious out-burst as the others stare at her, moths agape.

Tony sent the young teen a look before turning his attention back to Y/N and Fury, letting out a scoff. “Pray tell us, what makes her so special? Why exactly is she here?”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., bring up the footage of bank incident today.”

“Yes, director Fury.”

‘What the fuck was that?’ Y/N looked up and around her, searching for the feminine voice that answered the man before turning her attention towards the large screen mounted opposite the large couch.

The T.V. displayed the combat she partook in at the bank against the group of men, the Avengers witnessing the skills and abilities she possesses. 

“So that’s how you found out about me, huh?” She glanced towards Fury as she crossed her arms. 

“If you didn’t want to be found out, you should have hidden your face better, Y/L/N.”

“Touché.”

Soon, the footage ceased, allowing the team to soak in the new information that they had just been presented with. “So, you’re like a, glitch, or something, right?” Sam turned towards her, his own arms crossed over his chest.

“Something like that, Tweety Pie, yeah.” She retorted back, eliciting a raised eyebrow from him and a snicker from Bucky.

“I like her.” Clint muttered quietly to the Black Widow beside him.

Steve glances at everyone occupying the room before letting his vision focus solely on to the girl. “I guess, welcome to the Avengers, Y/N.” He extends his hand out for her to shake, which she hesitantly grasps in her own, smaller appendage and shaking firmly.

“Now, I have two questions. One, where did that voice earlier come from? And two, where are we on the whole snack thing?”

_______________

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So, here’s chapter 2!

I’m still fairly new to writing so this may or may not be shitty (it totally is)

I still haven’t really came to a decision who i would like to pursue as a main love interest but I have decided who I would not like to see:

        * Peter Parker. (You) are supposed to be in your early/mid 20′s, possibly even older, and he’s still like 15 so nope

        * Bucky Barnes. I kinda don’t want to see Bucky as the main love interest in this as Bucky tends to get a LOT of fan fiction written about him. This brings me on to my next character

        * Steve Rogers. I’m not entirely opposed to Steve but like Bucky, he has a load of fiction written about him and I’d like to change it up

        * T’challa. Honestly, even before Chadwick’s death, I have felt weird when it comes to romance with the character. I feel like if i write anything beyond a platonic relationship with his character, it would be disrespectful and objectifying. This is my personal reasoning and you do NOT have the agree which is perfectly fine

I’m so open to hear your thoughts and suggestion on this matter as I’m pretty stuck on this decision lmao

I hope you enjoyed. please show me so by hitting that lil’ heart at the bottom of the post my doods

And finally, constructive criticism and requests are welcomes as always and are greatly appreciated :D

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Rachel Nobel / Rae Lynn

Rachel Nobel, aka Rae Lynn, has 2 fics at Gossamer, but she’s written many more X-Files stories than that. You can also find fics by her at AO3 and various other archives. She’s one of the rare, special authors who’s posted numerous fic during the show’s original run and again in recent years. Big thanks to Rachel for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)? Absolutely. I joined a Facebook group for fanfic writers where someone recognized my name and asked about some of my stories that have disappeared from the Internet, and I almost fell off my chair. On the other hand, I go back and read original-run fanfic all the time - the Wayback Machine is my best friend for all the late great fanfic archives. Like fine wines, they get better with age! What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it? I was fairly young during the peak of the fandom - I was only 12 when I started watching the show and discovered the fandom online. A few years ago, right around the time we learned the revival was coming, I wrote an essay I called "How 'The X-Files' defined my adolescence," in which I wrote: "If you think about it, 'The X-Files' is a lot like adolescence: You start out thinking it's going to be a little hokey, NBD, and then you end up in its thrall, captivated and occasionally hugely let down. A lot of people behave strangely, and no one gets out unscathed. Mulder, in his own weird way, is the perfect mirror for an adolescent: He doesn't fit in; his life careens between being utterly consequential to the fate of the known universe and being completely pointless; he's socially awkward and can't quite nail it down with the girl of his dreams."

So for me, the fandom is inextricably bound up with adolescence, that feeling of vacillating between desperate loneliness and being on the verge of something enormously significant. Take romance: I was a bit of a late bloomer, and when all my friends were exploring their first relationships I was watching Mulder and Scully navigate this beautiful, complicated, soulful relationship without ever even kissing. That was deeply affecting for me as a teen.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)? I started out on mailing lists - there was an EMXC mailing list and one that I think was called X-Angst. [Lilydale note: There was a mailing list called XAngst Anonymous.] This was back at the dawn of the Internet when I only had 10 hours of AOL access a month, and I remember using what AOL called a "FlashSession" to log on, download all the fanfic from the mailing list and log off to read it. I vividly remember the excitement of watching all that new fanfic flood my inbox! Later on I was on atxc. During the long summer between "Gethsemane" and "Redux," it felt like fanfic was at its peak. There was a group of about a dozen women who got together (virtually) to discuss a work in progress by Lydia Bower called "Primal Sympathy." We called ourselves the "Primal Screamers," and we had our own website with fanfic recommendations and other discussions (it cracked me up to locate us as an entry on Fanlore.org). I was still in high school at the time and I was the youngest member; I felt like I had been accepted into a cool underground club. I worshipped these women, who were fanfic writers themselves. They taught me everything I knew about how to be a decent, respectful, enthusiastic consumer and writer of fanfic and fandom. [Lilydale note: I’ve talked enthusiastically about the Primal Screamers here before, including their fanfic primer.] What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general? In the '90s, I would have been embarrassed to tell anyone I read fanfic, let alone that I was writing it. Now, I look back on it and realize how talented and smart and passionate we all were. It's something to be proud of. What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show? The first episode I ever saw was "Shadows," which was on in reruns between the second and third seasons. I don't think "Shadows" is an episode that anyone today would consider thematically significant, but something about seeing those office supplies float spookily through the air - it wasn't like anything I had seen on television, and I wanted in. What got you involved with X-Files fanfic? I've always been a person who, when I am interested in something, seeks to learn more about it. So I guess I got online as a 12-year-old with this new interest and discovered fanfic. It was thrilling to find out that so many talented people were taking characters I loved and bringing them to life for me. When the screen faded to black each week and I wondered, "That's it? What next?", fanfic was always there to fill in the blanks and take Mulder and Scully to the next level. As a teenager, I was self-indulgent enough to think I had something to contribute, too. Most of what I wrote in the '90s would today make me cringe. I remember literally paging through the dictionary in search of erudite words I thought Mulder and Scully would say! But occasionally I'll feel brave enough to read an old story and I feel encouraged to see a spark: a turn of phrase or a fragment of dialogue that I still feel proud of. I write professionally now, but I've never written fiction that isn't X-Files fiction, so it's something that has really allowed me to hone my creative juices in a different way. What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom? Sometimes I feel like the Statler and Waldorf of the fandom, like I'm sitting up in the balcony grousing "Back in my day...!" Because the fandom is remarkably robust, and I've gotten involved with it to an extent on Twitter and AO3, and now all these young whippersnappers idolize Mulder and Scully just as much if not more as I ever did! Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files? Not really, no. I've of course consumed a lot of media since The X-Files that I wanted to discuss with others - I'm a huge "Harry Potter" nerd, and I was outraged when Netflix canceled "The OA" - but strangely I've never had the urge to read or write fanfic about anything other than "The X-Files." Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully? Every Thursday night! I watch a chosen episode with a group of fans on Twitter and tweet about it - #tbtXFiles. That's great fun. There are episodes I've seen dozens of times over the years and episodes I think I only ever watched once, and it's always enlightening to watch them again with a certain critical eye. When I was a fan during the original run, I really idolized Mulder; I loved episodes where we saw him in all his cracked genius glory. Scully was a trailblazer of a character, of course, but I think the fandom has evolved over the years to give Scully her due. Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom? I was fairly stunned when the revival came around and I realized that people were still writing X-Files fic, and that a lot of it was so good. So yes, I do read fic on Archive of Our Own. But my heart is always with the early days of fanfic. In the revival when Mulder says "I've always wondered how this was going to end" - that felt to me almost like a love letter to fanfic authors who had been trying to answer that question for 25 years. Surprisingly, I've never had the urge to read fic in another fandom. Every time I try, it just feels like I'm cheating on Mulder and Scully. Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors? My favorite author back in the day was Kipler. Her stories were just like real episodes of the show I could vividly imagine in my mind. I adore syntax6, particularly "20" and "The Birthday Stories," because of the way she perfectly and poignantly captures vignettes that span the entire series. Another favorite is Dawn and her "Blood Ties" series - I started out as a "NoRomo," and Dawn was one of the authors who made me believe Mulder and Scully could have a romantic relationship that really worked. And I always had a soft spot for Profiler!Mulder stories, so to this day I mourn the unfinished state of the great Kronos fic "Ascent to Hell." One fic I always come back to that captures profiling Mulder really well is "Domination of Lies," by cslatton. And then there are stories that I consider classics: "Corpse" by Livengoo, "Oklahoma" by Amperage and Livengoo, the "Revelations" and "All Hallow's Eve" series by Windsinger. What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise? I have a soft spot for a story I wrote called "Human Credential." I was attempting, a quarter-century after the first season of the show, to set a story in the very early days of the partnership (which these days is one of my favorite kinds of fanfic to read), and I felt like I nailed it. Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online? I have been doing both of these, as a matter of fact! Or in my case, they are oldies that made it online but vanished when Geocities went belly-up, for example, that I sometimes go back to and reshape. Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work? As the swallows return to Capistrano, I seem to always return to writing fic at periods of transition in my life. The first time I "retired" from fanfic, I wasn't even in college yet! If one can be nostalgic at 21 years old for something one gave up at 17, I was nostalgic for fanfic, and I picked it back up again in grad school. Then I became a teacher and a wife and a mom and years passed, and the revival seduced me back into it again. But the vast majority of fanfic I've written is firmly planted in the first seven seasons of the show - poor Mulder and Scully never seem to get to grow up in my stories. What's the story behind your pen name? I wrote under a lot of pen names over the years! When I first started writing fanfic, no one knew anything about Internet safety and it didn't occur to me that it wasn't wise to use my real name. There was a period when I would have been mortified if anyone discovered my stories under my real name - now, at least I can write it off as a youthful indulgence! When I finally grew into a more mature writer, I started using the name Rae Lynn, which is almost-but-not-quite my real first and middle names. Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions? As far as I know, unless my friends and acquaintances have done some sleuthing, only my husband knows I still write fanfic. And he's never read it, though he's kind enough to give me a glazed-eyes indulgent smile if I ever talk about it. Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now? I am xraelynn on AO3! I have about a dozen stories there - some of them I wrote 15 years ago and some of them are brand spanking new. Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

Fanfic is a true labor of love. Fanfic authors don't write fanfic for money or fame; they do it because they love it. Sites like AO3 and Tumblr have made it so much easier to show your appreciation to writers (::gruff reminiscing voice:: back in my day, you had to send them an email, and now you can just click the "kudos" button!). I can only speak for myself, but I really thrive on that feedback - otherwise I'm just Mulder in his cramped hovel of a home office waiting for Scully to nag me to shave my beard. Every so often I think about the fact that there is so much high-quality writing about these characters I've loved for decades just available on the Internet for free and it feels like a true gift.

(Posted by Lilydale on May 4, 2021)

[tears-and-lilies]

Chapter 37 - Care

I’m not too happy with this one, but I’m proud I finally wrote it

Tag: @whumpfigure @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @green-eyed-whumpster @liliability @sideblogformindtrash @starnight-whump @milk-carton-whump @abitefullofwhump @unicornscotty

CW: feet whump (aftermath), death mention, attempted murder mention

Glorien couldn’t help it. The gross sobs coming from his mouth, the tears running down his face, they annoyed him. It annoyed him Feyros had brought him to this bedroom once again, laying him down onto the bed. Glorien pulled his feet away when he tried to look at them.

‘I don’t have much time. I’m supposed to go, but I fear that they won’t get you any help if I don’t treat your wounds.’

‘Why. Do you. Care?’, he gasped between sobs. He blinked so he could see Feyros’s face. Somehow he feared the answer.

The man sat down on the side of the bed. ‘Of course I care. You’re a citizen of Koia, and it is my job to make sure every citizen is safe.’

‘No. No, you’re lying. I’m not. A citizen. I’m a prisoner.’

‘You were born in Koia.’

He tried to sit up. ‘You must feel so proud of yourself. Trying to help someone who is so defenseless, it’s so fucking easy to pamper a pitiful piece of crap. You can show everyone how much of a kind and caring person you are! How I wait for the day you’re going to kick me or whip me just like all the rest of you! Be honest: I’m nothing more than dirt to you.’

He wanted to go on, but his throat was screwed shut and he struggled to breathe. He curled up, trying to stop this miserable display. He was only embarrassing himself more. Not that he had much pride left anyway.

Feyros sat there, his mouth opening and closing. Eventually, he placed a hand on Glorien’s arm.

‘None of that is true. Not at all. Vasri, as my friend, let me help you even if he hates it. But as the Emperor to the Keeper of the City, he can’t always allow me to do this. I risk a lot in helping you, when it shouldn’t be like that.’

Feyros sighed, but Glorien didn’t care. Excuses.

The man continued: ‘But I… I can't. I can’t treat you like a prisoner. You are so much more, you went through so much. I don't… It hurts to hear you talk about yourself this way. They made you believe this, and I'm so sorry they did…’

It wasn’t fluent, a mess of words glued together to sound inspirational. Glorien wasn’t stupid. He didn’t need half-hearted apologies. He needed… he didn’t know what he needed, or what he should have expected, really.

‘Okay’, he said, his voice flat. He tried to smile, knowing he would fail. ‘Then why do you care about me?’

Because you are pathetic. That’s all he needed to hear. Just admit and give me that small victory.

He didn’t get it. Feyros shifted, leaning further away from him.

‘I was there, at your execution. And I can’t forget what I saw. It was unfair, you were so young when they caused you so much pain. I still remember your screaming. How can I ever forget? As I see it, the civil war only resulted in terror and chaos, and it hurts me that you were a victim of that as well. And now still, 6 years later, everyone is supposed to hate you. All those years you went through on your own. I can’t even begin to imagine how lonely you feel, how desperately you want someone to care.’

‘Stop.’

He didn’t know how to process this. He should be mad, that this man was taking his most horrifying memory as the big reason to pity him. But it was weird. He couldn’t tell most of the details of that day, but the emotionless way the crowd was looking on never left him. He couldn’t put Feyros’s memory in his own. This gave him an empty feeling in his stomach, he couldn’t quite place. It was unsettling.

But more than that, he couldn’t hate Feyros’s words. He… liked them.

It took a lot of effort to move his trembling form, but he managed to sit closer. He noticed Feyros’s confused look before he gently took the man’s sleeve, and next leaned his head on his shoulder.

‘Thank you', he whispered hoarsely.

***

He had calmed down quite a bit, and tried not to think too much about the wounds on his feet while Feyros bandaged them.

‘What happened to sir Elvar?’, he asked, just to distract himself.

‘He’s banished. He has to leave the city in maximum three days and the mainland in fifteen.’

‘Where will he go?’

‘To one of the smaller islands in the eastern part of the Empire’, Feyros responded. He kept his eyes on his task as he talked.

Glorien thought for a moment. ‘Why is he banished? What did he do?’

‘Did you hear about the princess yesterday?’

‘No?’

Feyros checked the bandage, before moving on to the other foot. ‘An assassin tried to kill her in the gardens. Luckily her uncle saved her, but no one was supposed to know they were there. The princess admitted later she had informed lady Lilian about it, and thus Elvar was suspected to have hired the assassin.’

He could be trying to cover up for his daughter. But Loryan wouldn’t try to kill the princess, would she?

‘Why does everyone call Loryan “Lilian”?’, he asked.

‘Right, you must have known her.’ Feyros looked up shortly. ‘After the civil war her family lost their influence. Nevertheless, she married, but lost her husband not long after. I think she wants to remover herself from her past, and therefore changed her name.’

So his childhood friend was dead. Such a nice way to find that out.

‘Lilian only got a warning from the Emperor, but she is still allowed to be in Koia. She’s a close friend to the princess, so Vasri might even let her enter the palace every now and then.’

‘She’s a friend of the princess?’ Despite her connection to me?

‘I don’t know how they got to know each other. I’m not aware of the personal life of the princess.’

‘Of course’, Glorien said absent-mindedly. He wondered what Loryan had been up to in the last six years.

‘I’m done with the bandaging.’ Feyros stood up. ‘I must go. I don’t think they’ll allow you to stay here, so be careful when you go, okay?’

Glorien pushed himself off the bed. Reluctantly, he must admit.

‘Sir Feyros?’

‘Yes?’

He stood up, cringing at the sting in his feet. He quickly regained himself as he said: ‘Will I see you again?’

Feyros smiled softly and looked at the ground. ‘Maybe. I’ll try to find a way, if you want.’

He would like that.

[wincestisasincest]

Bob Your Head (The Fellowship x Reader)

I HAD A DUMB IDEA BON APPETIT BITCHES.

Summary: You get stopped by a woodland spirit that inhibits you from continuing, before noticing your silky smooth hair. 

Words: 1616 (soz it got way longer than i intended)

Things literally just kept getting weirder and weirder for you. First, you’d fallen into this strange land. Then, you’d joined their crackhead quest. THEN you’d found all of these nerds oddly endearing. AND NOW you were to face to face with this mischievous tree motherfucker. Great.

“Please, I beg your pardon, but our quest is of the utmost sensitivity.” Aragorn communicated with the slender, brown-skinned sprite just as he would a political ally. Big mistake. 

“I am not some king to be courted by you greasy-haired hobo.” As the sprite convulsed, the rest of the trees began to grow around you, and you realized that you were completely trapped in the glenn. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that magic exists in this world, and then it comes back and smacks you in the head like that. 

“Are not the sprites kings of the forest?” Gandalf muttered under his breath. 

“It’s not up for you humans to decide what we are at all, actually.” 

“Okay, well that’s like half of the group, nice.” You said it sarcastically, out of instinct, but the sprite turned to look directly at you. You could feel the leaves begin to touch our arms and legs. Boromir, protector of literally everything he was, put his hand to his sword as the hobbits took a step back. 

“What was that?” His eyes flared with anger. Legolas coughed, looking at Aragorn, Gimli, and Gandalf like he was expecting them to do something, but the just stood watching you in fear. That’s enough fear for one group, though, and you took it on yourself to act at least a little brave.

“I said that’s half of the group, bro. Like, him,” you pointed to Boromir, “and him,” you pointed to Aragorn, “and me are human. Gandalf, I don’t know what he is, but it’s not human, Gimli, well, he’s a dwarf, that long haired guy is Legolas, an elf, and all of these peeps,” you gestured to the hobbits at your side, “are hobbits. So, uh, you got some of it right, I guess?” 

Aragorn facepalmed. Pippin seemed more intrigued by what you were doing, and almost opened his mouth to add something on to it before Merry nudged him aggressively. 

“Is that so?” the sprite raised an eyebrow. You nodded. 

“You’re not from here, are you?” You nodded yet again, suddenly aware of everything on your body that was modern, from your t-shirt under your tunic to your undergarments to your sneakers. 

“What gave it away?” You made eye contact with Frodo, who looked like he was about to cry. You recall that one night at the campfire he had shared stories of sprites that he’d learned back in the shire. He was shoulder to shoulder with Sam, looking utterly terrified. 

“Everything, human. What’s your name?” 

“Y/n” You flipped your hair back sassily. At this point, Boromir had put his sword away, but he still appeared very much on guard. 

“Where does one get a name like that?” You could swear that this man was writing a Wikipedia article on you.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, Mr., uh-” 

“Elmwood. Call me Elmwood.” You swallowed the urge to call his name redundant. 

“Well, Mr. Elmwood, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll tell you where I come from, and everything about me, if you let our lovely party pass.” You smiled, pleased with your own cleverness. Thus far, you felt as though you had been more of a burden to the group than anything, but now you were actually contributing. 

“Hm. No.” He put a finger to his chin, looking displeased. Even Gandalf was somewhat surprised, leaning in front of Legolas to get a better view of your conversation, almost as if he was expecting something. 

“Look, all we wanna do is-” You were not about to take his bullshit.

“I know what I want from you, human. You, you woman.” Ah yes. We have a real observant one here. Though some members managed to remain contained, the hobbits, especially Merry and Sam, visibly cringed. They were far more familiar with having unchangeable qualities about themselves being used as insults.

“Well spotted. Well, what is it? I haven’t got all day.” You wondered to yourself if they could smell fear, like dogs. Behind him, you noticed Aragorn reach for his sword and rest his hand on the hilt, while Legolas and Gimli exchanged a glance before getting into a stance that would easily allow them to grab their weapons at any time. Boromir whispered something in Gandalf’s ear, but Gandalf just shushed him. 

“That hair of yours. I want it.” Now everyone, including yourself, simply looked confused. Your hair had grown long and soft since you had come to Middle Earth, as your general lack of upkeep had allowed it to return to its natural state. To be honest, for a while, it was the least of your problems.

“My hair?” You reached up and touched your tendrils. They had dried well in the sun. 

“Stop this nonsense. Y/n, you don’t have to-” Boromir stepped forward. Aragorn placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Calm down, Boromir. Though, he is correct y/n. We can always take the long way round if you would rather not.” The hobbits nodded affirmatively. 

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s not that big a’ deal. Just sorta weird.” You fingered around on your belt before landing on a dagger, a gift from Elrond, that you had yet to use. You slid your finger across the blade. It was mighty sharp. 

“Y/n, are you sure?” Legolas stepped forward, deeply rooted with some sort of concern. 

“Lass, I wouldn’t mind takin’ the long way round.” Gimli nodded. 

“Yeah, we’re durable!” Pippin called from the hobbit group, to which Merry and Frodo affirmatively nodded, while Sam continued to look on.

“I would hate for you to lose your lovely hair, Miss Y/n.” Sam said softly.

Gandalf stayed silent, calmly waiting for you to make your decision. 

“Uh, guys, it’s not that big a deal. My hair is not that important to me, like, it’s fine.” Before any more protests, you pulled your hair back, lifted the dagger slightly under your chin, and sliced, feeling the weight vanish from the back of your head. 

Your hands clutched a fistful of your locks, leaving you a very blunt bob cut. Though there were no mirrors to look at, you ran a hand through your hair, only to feel a wave of adrenaline run through you as you felt the emptiness behind your back. You shook your hair a little bit before making eye contact with the sprite again, who seemed awfully pleased with himself. 

“Well, here ya go,” You offered the fistful of locks to him, which he approached cautiously before snatching from you, “Now can we pass?”

“Sure, just mind where you step.” The sprite didn’t look you in the eye, but was too busy playing with the hair that was once yours. And just like that, he disappeared into who knows where, leaving a vacancy. 

You peered around. All eyes were on you, some with concern, others with pity, and only one, Gandalf, with understanding. You sheathed the dagger and put in back on your belt, before running your hand through your hair once more. 

“Are you alright, Miss Y/n?” Merry, bless him, looked at you with wide eyes. You awkwardly smiled. 

“Yeah, y’all, I’m fine, it’s really not that big of a deal. It saved us a lot of walking, that’s for sure.” You tried to ease the awkwardness as you looked forward.

“Y/n, if you require us to explain to people the situation with your hair, we would be more than glad too-” 

“Situation?” You cut Aragorn off. You didn’t mean to sound angry, but this sort of confusion was frustrating you. 

“There is no need to get angry, Y/n.” Gandalf sagely said. 

“What? No, I’m not angry, I’m just confused. Is there some hair stuff I don’t know about?” 

“I think what they mean to say,” Gimly stepped forward, “is that your hair is far more befitting of a young lad than it is a proper lady.” Everyone else nodded with agreement.

“Wait,” you paused, “Is short hair not a thing here?” Everyone looked amongst themselves awkwardly, but thankfully your own memories were there to ask you questions. Now, pretty much every man in this world, save for the hobbits, had longer hair than you, and the women all had hair down to the middle of their backs, at the very least.

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense,” you said understandingly, “though like I said, I don’t really care. You don’t need to explain it to anyone, it doesn’t bother me, short hair is very common where I come from. Besides, now it can stop getting in my face when I’m trying to do things.” You giggled, and you could see Aragorn and Gandalf adopt small traces of smiles. 

“It’s common where you come from?” Frodo inquired.

“Yeah, like we would call this a bob cut. Cause it bobs.” You shook your head to demonstrate the bobbing effect, and the small crowd of hobbits laughed. 

Legolas, Gimli, and Boromir still didn’t appear to be convinced, but Gandalf didn’t have time for their shenanigans. 

“Well, now that that’s settled, on we go!” He lead with his staff, to which the hobbits quickly trotted behind, followed by you, then a tentative Legolas, Gimli, and Boromir, and finally a patient Aragorn, holding up the back. 

Wherever you went after, you could feel eyes on your short hair, though you didn’t mind. It was the least strange thing that had happened to you so far. 

[kpop---writings]

Playboy Prince

Prince Im Jaebum.

Part 1.

You lay buried in your thick comforter, listening to the sound of rushed footsteps running back and forth in the hallway. Even though all of the hustling and bustling going on outside are in preparation for your meeting with the prince, one your mother deems as an exceptional young man, you can’t seem to move out of your current position. You’re just waiting for your mother to notice your absence and send up Leila, your personal maid. 

All you can think to yourself at the moment, is why him? Although every other potential husband for you was either a little too weird, even for your mother, or gave you the creeps, you couldn’t possibly think they were worse than Prince Im Jaebum. You don’t know him personally, obviously. However, people love to talk. You knew of Prince Jabeum’s ways before he became the topic of your future life. All the other princess called him the Playboy Prince. Apparently he’s been sweeping ladies off their feet since he was 13! You’d rather be with Prince Yugyeom, who loved to put his face in your hair and take a big whiff, than someone who can’t even count all the women he’s been with before 18 on two hands.

Suddenly, your mother comes bursting through the door, two maids behind holding piles of clothing. She must be livid, she came in here herself.

“Good morning!” She shouts, particularly loud. “I know you don’t care to do this, but you really have no choice and you’re not about to embarrass me and your father and this kingdom by being in your undergarments when the Prince arrives!” She’s still yelling. Incredible that she can yell for such long periods of time without becoming hoarse.

“Mother, don’t you think you are being a little dramatic? We have plenty of time, I’d say. Besides, if he’s not willing to wait a little while until I’m completely ready, maybe he’s not the prince you think.” You roll out of bed and walk straight to your bathroom to freshen ump.

You hear your mother from the other room, “Well get in there and start on her hair!”

Soon after one of the maids has rushed inside and is now brushing your hair as you sit on the toilet. So ridiculous how obnoxious she gets when there’s a ‘big event” being held in our castle. It’s just an introductory dinner.

--

As one of the maids pulls tight on your corset and ties it in a neat little bow, all the commotion going on outside your bedroom seems to come to complete halt. He must be here. You’re slightly disappointed that you didn’t even get to make him wait. He’s probably used to women throwing themselves at him and you definitely didn’t want to seem so eager. 

You hear a knock on your door, then it’s slowly pushed open. You see none other than your favorite person in this castle, Leila. You give her a huge smile, a complete 180 from the attitude you’ve had all morning.

“Princess, they are awaiting your entrance,” she says in her small voice, also flashing me her pearly whites. 

You take one last look in the mirror. You’re wearing a big, floofy, pastel pink princess dress. Corset almost too tight to bear, just enough room to breathe. Your diamond necklace and matching earrings to pull everything together. Your mother went all out for this one, I guess this is the night that I become a fiancé. 

You look away from yourself and back to Leila. She bows her head to you as you walk past her and out to the hallway. Once you’ve reached the top of the stairs, you hear the butler announce you and the guards start to walk down. You wait until they’re a few steps ahead and began to walk down as well. You search the foyer as you walk and that’s when you see him. Your eyes lock and you can’t seem to look away. Or at least you don’t want to. His dark eyes are so captivating. They slowly move down your body and back up to lock with yours once more. You wanted to take a deep breath to relax, the corset, however, does not allow you to do so.  

You realize you’re nearing the end of the steps and you pull your eyes away, reluctantly. What was that? 

Once at the bottom of the steps, Jaebum walks over to you, his cat like eyes sucking you in once again. You refuse to let him know he as an affect on you. You hold eye contact until he’s standing right in front of you. 

He grabs your hand, kisses the back of it, and bows. “Hello your highness, thank you for having me in your lovely castle,” He says as he comes back up.

You take your hand back and curtsy, “It is our pleasure.” You say. 

He holds his arm out, wanting you to put yours through it. “Shall we?”

You put your arm through his and allow him to walk you to your family’s dining room where you sit next to him. Joining you are both your parents, but only for a short while.

---

During dinner, it’s mostly just your parents talking amongst themselves, leaving you and Jaebum to get to know each other yourselves. 

You try asking him about himself so you could marry someone you at least know a little bit about. Unfortunately for you, he seemed very uninterested. Every answer was one worded and to make it even worse, he didn’t ask a single thing about you.

You think back to the moment when you were on the stairs. What an idiot! You completely fell for it. He probably looks at every woman that way right before taking them to his bedroom.

“Darling,” your mother calls out you, pulling you out your thoughts. “We’re going to show them the other side of the castle, why don’t you show Prince Jaebum the garden.” 

Once they’ve walked out of the dining room, Jaebum’s whole mood changed.

“Alright, they’re gone finally!” He starts off, “Do you perhaps have a wine cellar?” He asks inquisitively.

You roll your eyes. Really?

“We do” You eye him for a second watching his face change to an excited look, “I hope you don’t think I’d let you get me drunk so you can fuck me and decide tomorrow I’m not the princess you’re looking for. I know about you, Prince Jaebum.”

His mouth starts to curve up into a grin. 

“You think I want to fuck you?” He starts to chuckle.

You can feel your face get warm as you start to get angry.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” Your voice starts to get louder.

You stand abruptly, making Jaebum stop laughing. You walk as fast as you can to the doors leading to the garden. You hear Jaebum right behind you. You walk over to a concrete bench that overlooks the biggest bush in the garden. Shaped like swans. 

Jaebum takes a seat next to you and chuckles again, “So what did you mean, Princess?” He asks with a smirk.

He must think incredibly highly of himself.

“Oh, come on. People talk, Jaebum. You can’t expect to sleep with every woman you encounter and them not gossip about it.” You hear how it comes out of your mouth and cringe. 

He chuckles again, “Is that what princesses are saying about me?” He looks at you, “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were jealous..good thing you’re stuck with me,” he shrugs with a smile.

“Excuse me?”

“Once I’ve told my parents that I actually like you and I choose you to be my bride, you’re stuck with me.”

You roll your eyes. He’s absolutely right. This is not how you thought this was going to go. 

You hear him laughing again. “What’s the matter princess? I’m not your first pick?”

“Definitely not,” You scoff, looking into your lap.

You feel his body heat as leans over to you. He whispers in your ear, “I can't wait to make you fall in love with me,” he starts to gently rub your back, “You’ll be begging me to fuck you by our wedding day.”

You gasp and feel your cheeks get extremely hot.

You hear the doors behind you open and Jaebum pulls away quickly, as both of your parents come out.

Jaebum stands and bows at your mother, “Your Majesty, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to be shown to the room I’ll be staying in. We’ve traveled far today and I’m rather tired.”

“Yes, of course.” She responds with a smile. 

As she calls for one of the maids to come escort him, your father walks up to him. “I hope you found our daughter to be to your liking.”

“Oh she is lovely,” he looks back at you and winks. “I think she is definitely Queen material. The kind of Queen our town needs. 

You see his parents smile at him as a way of showing approval.

You turn back to the giant swan bush in front of you. You then close your eyes and mentally prepare for the weeks to come and all the time you’ll have to spend with Prince Im Jaebum.

[lokidrabbles]

Perfect Fit (Loki x Reader)

Peter Parker tells reader about what Loki thinks of them.

A/N: Another oneshot, this time featuring Spiderman as the medium for Reader and Loki. Also, my headcanon remains that Loki refers to Peter as Spider Boy. As always, Gender Neutral Reader!

Warnings: None! Fluff n’ such!

Your eyes peered up from your paperwork to catch sight of the fidgeting teen sitting in front of your desk. You empathized with him. It was always some sort of hell fire when Tony or any of the Avengers reprimanded one of the outlier members for failing to complete a mission in time, or failing to follow a inward duty to protect others. Although the consequences of the damage the young Spiderman had left behind were very minimal (extensive property damage, but no one seriously hurt), Tony still upheld his duty as Peter’s pseudo guardian, and laid it hard on him.

As part of the process, you were in charge of filling all the damage reports and costs left behind by the throws of battle, and Tony ordered Peter to witness the extent of his mistake through financial eyes. Or maybe through boring clerical work. Whatever the matter, Peter looked absolutely nervous, probably dreading to hear just how much his antics caused the city (or Tony).

“You know I’m not actually going to tell you how much cash Tony is going to have to fork out, right?” You asked him, causing him to jump slightly.

“What, really? I mean, are you sure? ‘Cus I’m sure Mr. Stark wanted me to, uh, witness the depth of my carelessness.” He stuttered in response.

“I mean yes, you definitely want to be more cautious. But this, in comparison to Tony’s own damage cost analysis, is almost nothing. I’m sure this is just his weird way of wanting to make sure you’re keeping the citizens and yourself safe out there. Also I feel if I tell you, you’re going to be harder on yourself than you need to be.”

Peter let out a nervous chuckle. “Yeah, I guess you’re right about that. I really am sorry about what happened, I did try to be as careful as I could.”

“I’m sure you did kid. The important thing is that building was insured, and that no one was seriously hurt. You good?”

“Yes, yes!” He responded hastily, and you almost felt the weight being lifted from his shoulders. “I’m just glad you’re just as nice as Mr. Loki mentioned you to be.”

You shot a quizzical look at Peter. “Uh, Mr. Loki?”

“Well, yeah? Mr. Thor’s brother? I’ve seen you both together a lot here at the facility.”

Of course you knew who he was talking about, but the fact that Loki made his chipper self into this conversation was odd at best. From your documentation, you found out Loki had been assigned to this small escapade in the outskirts of the city. It actually made you content to see Tony’s mistrust in him begin to dwindle, allowing him to participate in the Avenger’s daily heroism. You could almost see his sour face once he found out this precise squad would be lead by Tony himself. But it made sense.

“What’s Mr. Loki doing gossiping about me to you?” You asked teasingly.

“Nothing bad! I can swear by that!” Peter said, putting his hands up in defense. “I think he just wanted me to feel better.”

“That’s a good one kid.” You chuckled. “It’s a miracle on it’s own to have Loki talk one word to anyone. You have no idea how long it took me to have him say a simple hello to me.”

“Really?” Peter asked, slowly pulling his hands down. “I know Mr. Loki is always very reserved, and he was a little scary at first. But he’s actually kind of, really nice too.”

“You must have a very skewed definition of nice.” You said sarcastically. You jested however. You had experienced Loki’s ‘niceness’ firsthand, in his own bizarre way. Loki’s form of nice didn’t really fall under your typical definition of it. Nice was, for example, telling someone thank you, bringing thoughtful gifts, buying someone lunch. Loki’s nice more so included telling you that you were being stupid and foolish for failing to believe in yourself, and that you should be ashamed of yourself, blah blah blah. He got the right intention, but his delivery was horrible. You cringed at the thought of poor little Peter having to go through that.

“I mean, maybe? He was very helpful during the mission, and his strategy at the whole thing. I was like, wow! He moved so fast in between everything, I had such a hard time keeping up. Though, maybe that’s why I got so distracted in the first place.” He sighed, still blatantly defeated for his error.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself though. For what it is, I think you’re a pretty talented kid too.” You said with a toothy smile. “Loki’s just a big show off though.”

He laughed in a much more relaxed manner. “Thanks, that means a lot. But I must have really taken it hard when Mr. Stark raised his voice at me. Mr. Loki approached me and told me I’d be sent over to your department and how you’d be very welcoming, nice and easygoing.”

You were slightly irritated at how Loki found it so easy to tell Peter all these likeable things about you, yet still failed to do so with you in person. Yet, you knew his reason’s to do so with Peter. Again, Loki wasn’t the most approachable man in the universe, but that didn’t mean he was completely heartless. His words with Peter, while few, were carefully chose to make the young teen feel less anxious. You mentally reminded yourself to give a him a big smooch the next time you saw him.

“I’m actually really happy to hear that.” You said, leaning against the back of your chair. “It looks like he found someone who he’s comfortable with, so that gives me some peace at mind.”

Peter became obviously confused at your comment. “I’m not sure I get that.”

“You said it best at first. He’s a scary fella. But it seems you got to him somehow. So trust me, from now on you got another set of eyes keeping watch of you, making sure you’re safe out there.”

“Actually, I think that make’s me a little more nervous.” He said sheepishly.

“Oh well yeah, be very wary of the God of Mischief.” You said ominously, followed by a snort and giggle.

“Oh, wait. Are you and Mr. Loki dating?”

Your giggles soon stopped, as your mouth remained agape in shock. Again, this was not where you expected a conversation about Loki to go to. You now felt like the nervous teenager in the room instead. Through its entirety, both you and Loki did well at keeping the relationship under wraps, understanding the impending chaos that would ensue if anyone (Tony and Thor) would find out. Well, maybe Loki could care less, but you still had a job and income to maintain. While inner work relationships were not uncommon here, there might be some adherence to having a relationship with someone who used to be on the blacklist.

“No.” You said lowly. Even you wouldn’t have believed that no.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insinuate anything like that. It’s just, Mr. Loki seemed to have talked fondly of you, and I do see you both together quite a bit. Also you both look really good together, but like not to mean you are dating or anything!”

“Okay Peter! I think we’re done here. I’ll take care of the rest, tell Tony you learned your lesson and all BS, and you can be on your merry little way, yes?” You said, rummaging through you documents, and handing Peter a crumpled up slip with your signature on it.

Peter took the slip slowly, unsure of what he hand uncovered with his innocent introspection. “Are you okay?”

“I’m super.” You feigned through a false smile. “Thanks for dropping by, but I got some more work to do.”

The young teen, still bewildered by your sudden agitation, took it for nothing and soon tip toed out of your small office. You let out a heavy breath and slumped in your chair. It seemed you were in the clear for now, and you figured Peter would be a smart kid and avoid spreading unnecessary rumors. Also for the sole fact that his life would be at risk if Loki were to ever find out he’d tattle at Tony. Still, your mind raced back to the encounter Peter had told you about, and how Loki made a worthwhile impression on the young teen. It warmed your heart knowing someone else seemed to have approved of your gloomy partner.

Towards the end of your shift, you were visited by said partner in efforts to soon spend a relaxing evening at your home. Loki casually seated himself on the seat in front of your desk, arms crossed over his chest.

“I hear the Spider boy paid you a little visit?” He asked playfully.

“He did in fact. He’s a sweet kid.” You responded, eye still glued on your computer screen. “A little naive, but sweet.”

“Stark was relentless on him today. Dare I say, I felt sorry for the lad. He looked like a scared puppy.”

You hummed in a chipper manner. “Yeah, he told me all about it. He also told me how Mr.Loki made him feel a whole lot better today.”

You heard Loki grunt, a way for him to avoid talking about it. You figured it was still awkward for him to hear about his ‘good deeds’ with the type of shit he’s gone through.

“He was very impressed by your skills set. You may have a little fan boy in the making.” You grinned, finally closing your laptop. “I think we should adopt him as our child.”

“You’re hysterical.” He responded flatly.

“I’m mad at you though.” You said as you began to gather your belongings.

Loki raised an eyebrow at you. “Pray tell why?”

“How come you tell Peter all of these nice things about me, yet you always avoid doing so to my face?”

Loki remained quiet, draw back by the nature of your question. You meant to approach the subject in a playful manner, still understanding how Loki had his own special way of showing affection. Yet, you saw how Loki rested his chin at the top of his knuckles, analyzing and concocting an appropriate answer. He looked adorable.

“I suppose I really haven’t done so.” He said admittedly. “What would you like to hear?”

You felt your face heat up. “It doesn’t really work if I tell you what I want to hear. Also, that’s embarrassing.”

“Ah. Of course.”

“Peter told me all the good things though.” You began. “It does make me happy that you think that way about me, instead of an absolute bother.”

He rolled his eyes. “I do hate your incessant ability to self-deprecate. However, everything else the Spider boy mentioned is absolutely true.”

“How lovely to hear.”

Loki stood up and began assisting you with your bags and belongings. You smiled with a strong sense of satisfaction, promptly turning off the lights in your office.

“I also forgot to mention to him that you’re amazing, and incredible.” He whispered behind you. “That I love your smile, and I love how your hand fits so well into mine. That I always look forward to seeing your bright eyes every single day, that I-”

You felt your lips begin to twist in both joy and uneasiness. You jabbed Loki slightly at his side, urging to promptly stop before you explore. “Cut it out. I can’t tolerate this level of cheesiness.”

He smirked mischievously at you. “Then I will have to draw out my admiration for you with the Spider boy if you aren’t able to tolerate it. I’m sure he would be more than happy to hear about it.”

“You better fucking not.”

---

Later in the evening, a young Peter Parker, overseeing the block from the top of a building, took note of Mr. Loki firmly leaving the facility with you, hands hidden, side by side. Upon further inspection, Peter deducted it would be best to keep quiet about this encounter, sensing how distressed you had been about it earlier today. He felt correct about his assumption however; both you and Loki looked good together.