#cross-posting some stuff from ao3

[maglor-my-beloved]

Friends, Noldor, Countrymen

Characters: Maedhros, Fëanor (mentioned), Fingolfin (mentioned)

Warnings: none

Tags: Parody, Politics, First Age, Good Parent Fëanor

I'm sorry Shakespeare

Friends, Noldor, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury my Father, not to praise him.

The evil that men do lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones; So let it be with Father. My noble Uncle Hath told you Fëanor was ambitious: If it were so, it was a grievous fault, And grievously hath Fëanor answer’d it.

Here, under leave of my Uncle and the rest– For my Uncle is an honourable man; So are they all, all honourable men– Come I to speak in Fëanor’s funeral.

He was my father, faithful and just to me:

But my Uncle says he was ambitious; And my Uncle is an honourable man.

He hath made many jewels filled with light Whose brightness did fair Tirion’s palace fill Did this in Fëanor seem ambitious?

When that his children cried, Fëanor hath wept: Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:

Yet my Uncle says he was ambitious; And my Uncle is an honourable man.

You all did see that on King Finwë’s death I thrice presented him the kingly crown, Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition?

Yet my Uncle says he was ambitious; And, sure, he is an honourable man.

I speak not to disprove what my Uncle spoke, But here I am to speak what I do know. You all did love him once, not without cause: What cause withholds you then, to mourn for him?

O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts, And men have lost their reason. Bear with me; My heart is in the coffin there with Father, And I must pause till it come back to me.

I have nothing to say in my defense except that this came to me in a moment of what I can only assume was divine inspiration and I haven't been able to get it out of my head, so now I'm inflicting it on you.

[phoenixcatch7]

I swear if you write enough fics on ao3 you start to go dark. Like, no matter how fluffy and family friendly you start out, once you've written more than 30 fics you WILL have written at LEAST one hurt no comfort drabble featuring heavy themes, and/or 7k minimum of the filthiest smut.

I mean, at that point you have made the conscious decision to dedicate a significant portion of your free time to the uncensored wild wastes of ao3, it's understandable, but I cannot think of a single exception to the rule.

[salemrph]

Sleepy morning with Sylus

A/N: While I was reading some other posts yesterday, I came across a user asking what it would be like to wake up next to Sylus. My imagination jumped on it right away! I would say this is more of a headcanon than a fanfic. I focused more how he would experience it. Short write, just because I'm working on other stuff.

Character: Sylus & Reader/MC/you

Genre: romantic, fluffy

Word count: 1,430 | Reading Time: 5 min | AO3

Background music

Your laughter echoes through his bedroom as you try to break free from his grip, his breath tickling your skin. His arms are wrapped tightly around you, pressing himself against your naked body. You smell incredible, so intoxicatingly good that waking up next to you must be heaven on earth.

You squirm and kick, already in tears from laughing so hard. He can't get enough of that sound, of the way you smile, the way you close your eyes and lean your head back. Your presence is like a flowerbed in full bloom, vibrant and breathtaking. Blooming in its full splendor.

Whenever he can, he admires you. When you sleep, he counts the moles on your body, tracing them with his fingertips. He caresses the scars you've earned as a fierce Hunter, kissing every natural fold of your skin. His touch follows the curve of your back, the delicate shape of your ass, down to your legs. The same legs that always wrap around him in the intensity of passion.

He loves you, more than he could ever show to you. It wouldn't be enough, ever.

"Sylus—"  you gasp between laughs, struggling against him as your muscles start to cramp.

"You have so much energy, kitten" you keep laughing, you are so ticklish this morning. His nose brushes against your neck before he nips at your skin, placing lazy kisses along your shoulder.

You squirm even more, still breathless from laughter. "I will pee myself... Stop!"

He hums against your skin, only tightening his hold. He isn't really awake, he wants to keep sleeping, enjoying the peaceful morning with you. Sylus has worked hard to clear his schedule, to be with you like this. To adapt to your routine, make breakfast, and simply enjoy a normal day at your side.

"Then pee..."  he teases. 

"Gross! Let go." You protest, thoroughly disgusted by his suggestion.

"Not even in dreams, sweetie" he chuckles while still kissing your shoulder.

"Sy..." you whine. That tone, the way you try to get your way putting that face, that tone in your voice. The one that makes his heart melt no matter how much he tries to resist. He growls, reluctant to release you completely. His grip tightening for a moment before he finally exhales and relaxes.

"Go. You have 2 minutes to come back". 

You waste no time jumping out of bed, only to earn a slap on your ass.

"Hey!" You spin around, shooting him a glare. Sylus only smirks.

"I like how it wiggles"

You disappear in the bathroom. Sylus shifts onto his back, crossing both arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling with a rare sense of peace. Yeah… he could get used to this. No, he wants to get used to this. The wealth he possesses and everything he has done has been nothing more than a way to ensure your safety. The years he spent searching for you taught him that he had to be prepared for anything. Losing you again was not in his plans. And if the day ever comes when you no longer love him, it won’t change a thing. He would still protect you, even from the shadows.

He’s so lost in thought that he doesn’t notice you sneaking back into bed. Carefully, you inch closer, suppressing a grin as you reach out to poke his cheek. But before you can even make contact, his hand shoots out, catching your wrist in a firm grip.

"Feeling playful this morning, my love?"

"Just a bit" you smirk. Sylus laughed.

"What do you want to play?" You tilt your head, pausing deliberately as your eyes drift over his bare chest, trailing down to his toned abs. The sheets rest low on his hips, and the way you’re looking at him doesn’t go unnoticed. He knows that look.

With effortless ease, he shifts, pulling you toward him until you land on top of his body.

His fingers brush a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering. The color of your lips is already beautiful, but he loves it even more when they darken after passionate kisses. His lips part slightly, his gaze locked onto yours, mesmerized by the infinite depth of your shining eyes.

You lean in, pressing tender kisses across his face before finally finding his lips. Your entire body relaxes, melting into him. Savoring the slow movement of your mouth. Heat growing in your body. Between you two. The kiss deepens bit by bit, his tongue tracing your lips, later moving beyond, slipping inside, tasting you. You sigh into him, already lost in the spreading feelings of longing.

His hand has already trapped you. One sitting on your back, the other on your ass, keeping you close. He is getting harder by the second. His need for you is growing. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips grounding you in the moment. There is no rush, no urgency. You have the complete morning and day to melt in each other.

When he finally pulls away, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath is warm against your lips. His eyes flutter shut for a moment as he exhales deeply. This is a dream, he thinks. A damn good dream. And he has no intention of waking up.

One hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing tenderly over your skin. He doesn’t need to speak; everything he feels is in the way he looks at you, in the way he holds you like you’re something precious. You cover his hand with yours, pressing your cheek into his palm. A faint smile tugs at his lips before he kisses you again.

Sylus takes his time, enjoying how your body reacts to him, the quiet gasps, the way your fingers tangle in his hair. His name escapes your lips in a breathless whisper. He watches you with a quiet intensity, taking in the way you melt under his touch. The space between you disappears, lost in the unhurried way he moves. Once more, your worlds merge, your bodies speaking a language only the two of you understand.

That's how you start the morning: with him, with you, with nothing beyond these four walls mattering. Just the warmth of his skin, the rhythm of your hearts, and the love that neither of you needs to put into words.

----

Go to MASTERLIST

[plutotheplum]

Socks and Kisses

leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: a spontaneous shopping trip has leon re-evaluating his friendship with you.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, p in v, spanking, oral sex, praise kink, fluff, friends/roommates to lovers, fantasizing

wc: 3.7k

also posted on ao3!

There’s a shriek leaving you when you trip over a bundle of shoes in the doorway. It nearly sends you hurtling towards the floor, but there’s an arm curling around your waist, tugging you up before you can fall. Leon.

You glare up at your roommate, shoving at his chest so it sends him stumbling.

“Seriously, Leon? How many times have I told you to put your shoes to the side of the doorway?” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest.

He winces at your shrill voice, his hand rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I was busy,” he says, his eyes pleading with you, “you know with… with work.”

You’re shooting him an unimpressed look, pushing past him to put the groceries on the kitchen counter. It was your day to collect them anyways. Living with Leon had happened entirely by accident. One shittily written apartment listing later and the poor guy was standing outside your door, begging you to let him move in. It hadn’t been so bad. Leon had been nice, and you two had gotten along well, becoming friends even. The only thing you couldn’t stand was how messy the man was.

Empty boxes from delivered packages, stray parchment sheets from when he’d bake himself something and socks strewn haphazardly across the floor, much like his shoes. Leon had practically turned your apartment into a deathtrap. 

You don’t get to reminisce for much longer, not when he’s reaching for the pack of popsicles you’d bought. Leon lets out a low whine, like a kicked puppy, when you swat his hand away and shoot him an irritated glance. “I’m putting my foot down,” you tell him firmly, “no more unorganized socks, shoes or- or anything for that matter!”

Leon only tilts his head, blinking over at you. You glance towards the clock before your eyes are flitting back to meet his.

“Ikea,” you explain, “we’re going to Ikea to get you some organizers or whatever.” 

“ Now? ” Leon asks, raising his brows “but I was going to go to the gym with Chris and-” he’s shutting up when he sees your hardened glare.

Leon lets out an exasperated huff, and you’re smiling over at him, happy you’ve won this argument. Just to reward him, you’re digging out a popsicle from the pack and handing it to him. “So stubborn,” he mumbles under his breath, freeing the popsicle from its wrapper. 

“I heard that,” you reply, sticking your tongue out at him.

You both finish up your popsicles, and you’re tossing him his car keys while you pull your shoes on again. 

“Why do I have to drive?” he complains, leaning against the doorway.

“Because it’s your mess,” you retort, rolling your eyes, “and you’re paying as well.”

Leon lets out a scoff, “oh, fuck you.”

You smile back at him, patting him on the shoulder for some comfort. You manage to annoy him a little more during the drive to Ikea, and Leon’s contemplating whether he should just stuff your mouth with the rolled up catalog you’re currently holding

It’s when you both get to the kitchen area that Leon realizes something’s wrong. His eyes are watching the way you bend over the model kitchen counter, gaze trained on the way your skirt rides up slightly, exposing the backs of your thighs. He swallows harshly, wondering what it might be like to come up behind you, grab your hips and grind his cock against your ass. 

Your voice breaks him out of his dazed thoughts, your hand waving him over as you point to the price tag.

“Don’t you think this is a catch?” You ask him, head tilting back to meet his eyes.

“A catch?” He echoes, raising his brows, “it’s $2000 . Do you even have $2000?” 

You roll your eyes, elbowing him in the stomach. “Don’t be such a jerk, Leon. I think it’d look good in our apartment.”

There it is. Our apartment. The words are so comfortably domestic that it has Leon’s knuckles squeezing tight around the basket he’s holding. He’d be lying if he said he hasn’t imagined you two dating. Especially after that time he’d come home drunk one night. You’d taken care of him so sweetly, despite all of your grumbles and chastisements, that Leon felt like he was falling in love.

That had only happened once though, and Leon wasn’t prepared to make a big deal about his feelings so he buried them deep down and carried on with his life.

He doesn’t have time to dwell on his little crush any longer, brows furrowing when he feels the basket in his hand grow heavier. You’ve been milling about, dumping various little trays and organizational tidbits into the basket.

“At this point, I think you’re trying to max out my card,” he drawls, trailing after you.

“I’m helping you, Leon” you shoot back, bringing a candle up to your nose to smell its scent.

It’s not until you both get to the bedding area that Leon realizes he might actually be losing it. 

He’s sitting down on the edge of one of the beds, the basket settled on the floor with how heavy it’s become. 

You’re fluttering about, checking out the duvet covers and pillow cases. His eyes watch over you, letting you take a seat beside him on the bed when you find a duvet cover you like.

“Pretty, right?” You ask him, showing him the design.

“I guess,” he murmurs absentmindedly. 

He thinks you look prettier though. Besides, it’s not like he can tell you that he’s imagining taking you on this very bed. Your face pressed into the pillows, his cock stuffed into your pussy. You’d probably make cute noises too, clench around his cock while he thrusted into you. He’d let everyone watch, he thinks, make sure everyone knew that you were his. 

You’re snapping your fingers in his face, trying to get him to pay attention to you.

“Are you okay?” You ask, staring into his eyes “you keep getting distracted.”

“What?” Leon flushes, clearing his throat “yeah- yeah I’m fine… just had enough of you is all.”

You swat his shoulder and he rolls his eyes. Both of you manage to get to the checkout without any further bickering. Leon’s card doesn’t max out thankfully, but you wince when you see the total, ignoring Leon’s glower as he tears the receipt from the machine.

To make up for the spontaneous shopping spree, you buy him a soft serve and hand it to him with a smile. 

Leon takes it with a grumble, his eyes dropping to the way you lick at your soft serve. The icy treat smudges across your lips, and he’s reaching out before he can stop himself, his thumb swiping at the corner of your mouth to clean the mess. 

“Think you might be the messy one,” he mutters gruffly, drawing his hand back. 

“Your socks alone have nearly crippled me” you reply, nibbling at the cone to try and quell the race of your heart at his unexpected action. 

Leon lets out a loud sigh, shaking his head. The drive home is quiet, the soft sounds of the radio filling up the car’s space.

You help Leon with the stuff you bought, leaving the goods in his room before letting out a satisfied nod.

“There. Now you don’t have an excuse for being messy. Better start cleaning up, Leon” you chirp, giving him a snarky smile before tugging his door shut.

You sigh happily, mind feeling at ease. You’re sure that your apartment won’t be so messy anymore. The sounds of Leon rummaging inside his room almost make you feel bad, but this had been going on for months and you were glad you had done something about it. 

Deciding to grab some food, you reach for the can of peaches on the kitchen counter. By some misfortune, your hand accidentally knocks the can, sending it rolling towards the edge. Letting out an irritated huff, you’re reaching across the counter to grab the can before it falls off. 

While this happens, you’re blissfully unaware of the fact that your skirt is riding up. Leon feels his heart nearly jump out of his chest at the sight when he had wandered out of his room to grab a garbage bag. 

He can see the swell of your ass, your cheeks peeking out from your panties as you’re bent over, grabbing the can of peaches. 

“Have you made it some sort of mission to bend over every kitchen counter you see?” he asks dryly, his arms crossing over his chest.

You squeak in surprise, body jolting. The can of peaches slips from your hand pitifully, landing on the floor with a loud thunk .

“Why are you sneaking up on me?” You whine, turning to give him a glare.

Leon doesn’t reply, coming to a stop in front of you. His blue eyes are dark, dirty blonde hair hanging over his forehead.

“Um… Leon?” You wave your hand in front of his face. 

“I’m starting to think you’re doing it on purpose,” he murmurs, his hand catching yours.

“Hm?” he squeezes your hand, his head lowering so he can stare right into his eyes, “bending over every kitchen counter so I can see your pretty ass?” 

You manage to gather your wits, letting out a loud scoff and push at his chest.

“You’re such a perv, Leon!” you accuse, narrowing your eyes and placing your hands on your hips. 

“I’m not a perv if you keep bending over like that!” he shoots back, his hands grabbing at your forearms to tug you towards him. 

You swallow harshly when his calloused hands drift past your wrists, finding your hands and lacing his fingers with yours. The warmth of his body seeps into yours and your head is tilting, eyes finding his.

“We- we are not fucking,” you whisper, shaking your head.

“Who said anything about fucking?” Leon asks, his head lowering again. 

His body presses against yours, causing your breath to hitch. You’re biting your lip at the way it feels, the hard planes of his body molding against yours.

“One kiss,” he whispers, peering into your eyes, “please? Just one kiss and it’ll be over.”

You’d be doing yourself a disservice if you denied his request. Leon was stupidly handsome even if he was a little annoying at times, and you had maybe masturbated to the thought of your roommate before.

“Did you happen to forget that we’re roommates?” you raise your brows, trying to voice your concerns.

“Roommates kiss all the time,” he says, his nose nudging against yours gently, “now c’mon, gimme a kiss.”

You don't know what sort of roommates he’s been hanging around, but you’re almost certain that roommates don’t kiss or do whatever the hell you two are doing right now. 

Leon doesn’t know what he’s doing either. That one shopping trip had seriously messed up his brain, but he was here now so there was no going back. Your lips look so pretty, your eyes all starry. He wants to kiss you senseless and bend you over that stupid kitchen counter while he fucks into you until you’re crying on his cock.

As if to encourage you a little more, he nudges his nose against yours again. You send him a glare, eyes slipping shut as you rock up on the tips of your toes and brush your lips against his. The kiss is fleeting, a mere touch of your lips against his, and it’s safe to say Leon is not impressed.

“There,” you say, trying to hide the smirk that spreads across your face, “you got a kiss. Now leave me alone.”

Leon lets out a low groan, his head falling against your shoulder, “you’re a fuckin’ tease, you know that?”

You hum, pushing at his chest, taking the opportunity to free yourself from the confines of his grasp.

“Not so fast,” he murmurs, his hand snagging onto your shirt, “c’mere baby.”

His low voice has the butterflies in your stomach fluttering, your eyes widening when his hands cup your cheeks and he presses his lips against yours.

It doesn’t take you long to respond, arms wrapping around his neck as he kisses you fiercely. He groans into your mouth, his arms winding around your waist to pull you closer. 

You’re both flush against each other and you let out an irritated noise when he shoves you up against the kitchen counter, feeling the solid surface dig into your back.

“Drove me crazy at that Ikea,” he whispers against your lips, his hands sneaking under your skirt to give your ass an appreciative grope, “thought about fucking you on one of those beds.”

The idea of it is so obscene and indecent that you find yourself moaning out loud.

“Yeah? You like that, baby? Me fucking you in front of everyone, letting them know that you’re mine?” 

You’re nodding desperately at his filthy questions, trying to tug his shirt off so you can see his chest and abdomen. He obliges you, quickly shrugging off his shirt. Your teeth sink into your lower lip at the sight, eyes half-lidded. 

You can’t help the way your body leans forward, lips pressing soft kisses across his chest and his pecs. Leon sucks in a sharp breath, his hands moving to cradle the back of your head.

“Just kisses, huh?” he murmurs.

You nod, peering up at him “no fucking, remember?”

He hums, tilting your head so he can kiss you again. Leon kisses you over and over until you can’t breathe. You’re feeling so dazed that you don’t even notice he’s spinning you around, bending you over the kitchen counter. There’s a soft whine escaping you when he flips your skirt up, his hands squeezing at your ass before his fingers slip under your panties, tugging the fabric back and letting it snap back against you.

Your fingers are scrabbling at the counter top when you feel him drop to his knees, his lips pressing against the skin of your ass. He kisses your body so reverently, you think you might actually pass out.

“Wanna kiss your pussy too,” he mumbles, tugging your panties down. You shudder when you feel his breath hit your sensitive skin, hips swaying back to meet the kisses he places on your clit.

His tongue lolls out before long, lapping at your cunt, collecting the slick that drips from you. 

“That- that is not kissing,” you whimper out, head falling against the coolness of the counter.

“Sure it is,” he whispers, burying his face deeper into your pussy, “just dirty kisses, sweetheart.”

The way he eats you out is messy. Leon’s trying to shove his face deeper between your thighs, his lips suctioning around your pussy. You mewl when he draws back and spits on your cunt, his mouth latching on soon after. You’re not sure how much longer you can hold on, knees beginning to shake. Leon delivers a particularly toe-curling suck to your clit and you’re shuddering, letting out whines and whimpers when he lets out a low laugh, his tongue swiping over your cunt repeatedly.

“Leon- fuck! Leon, ‘m gonna-” you can barely speak properly. 

“Then come , baby,” he whispers, his tongue pressing into your fluttering hole.

You squeal at the unfamiliar sensation, knuckles turning white as you come on his tongue. He licks up your slick eagerly, his wet lips pressing soft kisses against the swell of your ass as you pant.

He stands up, tucking his face into the crook of your neck. You press your back against his chest, turning your head to kiss along his jaw. His eyes flutter shut, his hands smoothing along your back to undo the clasp of your bra. 

Your arms lift and Leon helps you take off your shirt and bra, letting out a soft sigh as your head falls back against his shoulder. Leon’s hands are restless, reaching for your breasts. 

He hums at the sight of your hard nipples, pinching and rolling them between his fingers before letting go to squeeze your tits. 

“You’re real pretty, sweetheart” he whispers, kissing your cheek.

You mewl, cheeks flushing. You hadn’t expected him to talk to you so sweetly. Leon feels your body lurch forward, tits pressing against his palms. He laughs, giving another firm grope to your tits and finds your lips to give you another filthy kiss. While he kisses you, Leon grinds his hips against your ass, and you gasp into his mouth, feeling the outline of his cock through his shorts.

“Think my cock wants to give your cute pussy some kisses too,” he says, his mouth pressed against your ear, “you up for it, baby?”

You could be a bobblehead with how fast your head is moving up and down. Leon grins against your ear, placing another kiss to your cheek before he’s bending you over the counter. The coolness of the counter startles you slightly, but Leon’s hand rubs up and down your back, warming your skin. 

Tits squished against the hard surface, your feet on the tips of your toes, pussy glistening with his spit and your arousal, Leon can hardly believe his fantasy has come to fruition. He wants to take a picture, keep it safe and jerk off to the sight of you when he’s alone. There’s no pictures taken though, instead Leon’s hand delivers a heavy slap to one of your ass cheeks.

You moan, back arching slightly as you try and chase the feeling. It hurts and you can feel the sting of his palm prickling across your skin, but you want him to spank you again so badly.

“L- Leon, want more,” you mumble, looking back at him.

Leon takes your request in stride, his hand coming down on your ass repeatedly. Your body slumps against the counter, soft noises escaping you as he rains slap after slap onto your reddening skin. 

“Shit, sweetheart” he whispers, his hands smoothing over the damage he’s done to your ass “so fuckin’ pretty.”

There’s a babbled noise escaping you. Mind feeling like mush, all you can think about is Leon. He smooths his hands over your sensitive skin a few more times, trying to soothe the pain before you feel him squeeze gently as he presses the head of his cock against your aching hole.

Leon pushes into your pussy with a groan, his hands squeezing at your hips. It almost feels like he’s trying to ground himself.

“Fuck-” he hisses, drawing his hips back to thrust back into you again, “ fuck - you’re so tight, baby.”

You whimper at the feeling of his cock stretching you out. Leon’s thrusts are beginning to pick up in speed and you’re whining, the force of his thrusts making your body rub against the kitchen counter.

“Leon, Leon, Leon,” you chant his name and his body is draping over yours, lips pressing kisses to your shoulder and back, “feels so good,” you slur. 

His hips are rutting against your ass, cock stuffing you full. You’re moaning so loudly that Leon has to slip his hand over your mouth in an effort to quieten your noises. His balls are slapping against your clit and the combined stimulation is making your head spin.

Soon, his hand is leaving your mouth to grip your hips again. 

“Take my fucking cock,” he grunts, each word punctuated with a harsh slap to your ass. 

“It’s too much!” you wail, nails clawing at the counter to try and crawl away.

He growls, grip tightening as he keeps you in place, “don’t you dare run. Take my cock like a good girl, baby.”

“You’re insane,” you cry, but there’s a cockdrunk smile spreading across your face as he fucks into you. 

“Yeah,” he whispers, his head lowering so he can whisper into your ear, “and it’s all for you, because- because I like you.” 

There’s a loud whine ripping out of you at that, wet heat clenching around him. No one’s confessed to you before, like ever . You suck in a sharp breath, trying to calm your heart and stop the excited flipping of your stomach that comes with his confession.

Leon moans when he feels the clench of your walls around his cock and he’s fucking into you with renewed fervor. 

“I like you,” he whispers again “like you so much, sweetheart. Always taking care of me, looking out for me, makes me feel special.” 

“Only do that ‘cause you’re an idiot, Leon” you mumble, swallowing back another moan that threatens to spill out. 

“But you do it anyway,” he murmurs, driving his cock into you.

You gasp, eyes squeezing shut as his fat tip grazes the spot deep inside of you. He grunts when he feels you getting tighter, feels you clenching hard around his cock.

“You gonna come for me?” he asks, sucking little love bites onto your neck, “hm? Can feel you clenching around me, baby.”

“Wanna- wanna come at the same time,” you babble “right, Leon? Since- since you like me, we gotta come at the same time.”

He’s letting out a hoarse laugh, kissing your shoulder again, “yeah baby, I’m right there with you.”

All of a sudden, he’s burying himself to the hilt inside of you and your mouth drops open, a sharp noise leaving you as you both come. Your body is limp against the counter, body covered in a thin sheen of sweat as you pant. Leon kisses your neck, letting out a whine as his cum spurts into you. It’s warm and thick, filling you up so perfectly that it has a serene smile settling on your face.

He helps you onto your feet, his hands rubbing up and down your sides to soothe your shaky legs. You feel him press a soft kiss to the side of your head and you’re rocking up on the tips of your toes, returning a kiss to his cheek.

“I like you too, Leon” you whisper, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him down for another kiss. 

You can feel him smile against your lips and he’s kissing you back sweetly. Leon keeps you there for a while as you both kiss, his hands petting across your tired body.

He takes you to his room later, his hand encasing yours. The moment is almost perfect, if not for the sock on the floor that sends you careening into his desk. “Leon!” you grit out.

He only laughs, his arms wrapping around your waist as he picks you up and tosses you onto his bed.

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

[wafflefries13]

Asking Out the Twisted Wonderland Cast (Multi TWST cast X Reader)

Summary: Sometimes, you can't just wait for good things to happen to you. Time to screw your courage to the sticking place and finally ask out that boy you like!

AN: I meant for these each to be like 200 word drabbles. Some of them kind of got away from me, lol.

Cross-posted on my AO3 TheGhostInTheKitchen

Warnings: Fluff, AFAB reader with she/her pronouns.

Part 2: First Dates

The sounds of the NRC cafeteria clattered around the group of first years. Utensils scraping on plates, sizzling from the open window to the kitchen, a hundred different conversations from all sides. Their small group sat clustered around their table, nestled close together to be heard over the general din. 

“I’m just saying,” Ace said, mouth half full. 

“You’re always ‘just saying’,” Deuce said. 

Ace shoved him. “I’m just saying, if you want to try out for the anchor position on the track team you have to actually ask for it. Get Coach Vargas and don’t stop bugging him until he sees what you can do! No one’s going to just wait for it to happen.” 

“And I’m saying it doesn't do any good to be a nuisance when I don’t even know if I’m good enough yet. I might as well wait till tryouts next semester.” 

“No, no, he’s right,” (Y/N) said, distantly. 

“Yeah!” Ace said. “Wait, right about what?” 

“You can’t just wait for stuff to happen to you. If you really want something you have to go and take it for yourself.” She stood abruptly, face determined. “I need to ask something.” 

Ace:

“Ace!” 

Ace jumped, brushing off crumbs from his jacket. “What? What did I do now?” 

“Do you want to go out with me?” 

Epel choked, Jack thumping him on the back. Deuce looked like she had just insulted his mother. Sebek rolled his eyes as he took another bite. Ortho gasped, leaning forward, eyes wide and excited. 

“I-What?” Ace stuttered, his face rapidly turning red. “Where the heck did that come from?” 

“You were just saying you shouldn’t wait for something you want. I like you, I have for a while now. So, do you want to go out?” 

Ace stuttered out a reply, slapping on his normal cocky smile but decidedly not meeting (Y/N)’s eyes. “I mean, yeah, of course you fell for me! It’s about time you said something. But, um, yeah, I’d like that. A lot.” 

“Well,” Deuce said, rolling his eyes. “It’s about time one of you said something.” 

“Hey!” Ace shouted. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

(Y/N) playfully shoved him. “Oh, please, don’t act like I haven’t noticed that you like me too. You’re not subtle about it.” 

“What made you think that?” 

“Ace, within the first week of me being here you asked to sleep in the same bed as me twice.” 

From another table, definitely not eavesdropping, Riddle fainted. 

Deuce:

“Deuce!” Deuce jumped at (Y/N) suddenly shouting his name. “I need your help with something. Can you come with me for a second?” 

“Oh, yeah, sure, of course.” Deuce ignored Ace’s pointed look. Deuce followed (Y/N) out of the cafeteria down the halls. “Where are we going?” 

(Y/N) suddenly turned around, Deuce almost colliding with her. Before he could apologize, she took his hands, looking up into his eyes as he felt blood rush to his cheeks. 

“I just wanted somewhere more private,” She said. “Deuce, I really like you. Will you go out with me?” 

“I-huh?! I mean, yeah, yes! I like you, too!” He rubbed the back of his head and looked away shyly. “Man, I wanted to ask you out first.” 

(Y/N) grinned. “Really? How were you going to do it?” 

“Well, my mom said that when my dad first asked her out he got her this big bouquet of flowers. But he ended up being allergic to them so he kept sneezing the whole time. She took him to the infirmary at their school and he had to write it down since his face was too swollen to talk.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t say no to flowers. Maybe we can skip the rest of that, though.” 

Deuce marched over to the cut out window of the hallway, opening out onto the quad. Reaching over, he plucked a fluffy pink peony from one of the bushes. He came back to (Y/N), suddenly very flustered, and held it out to her. 

“(Y/N),” He began. 

She clasped her hands together. “Yes?” 

“Would you do me the honor of - Ah!” Deuce yelped as a bee flew out of the peony blossom, shooting for Deuce’s face to sting him. 

Turns out, they did spend time in the infirmary. But, after (Y/N) kissed his cheek and gently held the flower, Deuce didn’t seem to mind too much. 

Trey: 

“Ow!” 

Trey paused outside the Heartslabyul kitchen as he heard the exclamation from inside. He was planning on testing out a new bread recipe his parents had sent him and wasn’t expecting anyone else to be using the kitchen that day. He peaked in, seeing (Y/N), Grim, Ace, and Deuce crowded around the island in the middle. (Y/N) was blowing on a burn on her hand, Grim rifling through the pantry for various sweets, and Ace and Deuce waving away smoke from a burnt pastry freshly pulled from the oven. 

“I told you!” (Y/N) said. “You can’t just raise the temperature for it to cook faster, it’ll just burn!” 

“Well, sorry for trying to make your confession go faster before you chicken out,” Ace said. 

“I’m not going to chicken out! Probably. Maybe. What if the pie burning is an omen?” 

“I wouldn’t read too deeply into it,” Trey said, entering the kitchen. The first years jumped, (Y/N)’s eyes going wide and she stared at the floor. 

“Well!” Deuce said, grabbing Ace and Grim and hurrying them out the door. “Omen or not, that’s our cue to leave. Good luck, (Y/N)!” 

Silence echoed around the two of them as the door of the kitchen thunked closed. (Y/N) fiddled with her fingers, still not looking up. Trey walked around the island, looking at the smoldering pie. There was a mostly neat lattice across the bubbling fruit, with extra crust cut into letters around the rim. 

“‘Trey,’” He read. “‘Will you-’”

“Ah! No, wait!” (Y/N) jumped forward, covering it with her hands. She jumped back as her palm accidentally hit the hot pie tin, giving her another burn. 

“Oh, wait, hang on.” Trey quickly went over to the sink, grabbing a clean towel and soaking it in cold water. He gently took her hand, pressing it to the burn. (Y/N) chewed her lip. “You know, I’d be happy to help if you want to try again. I’ve been wanting to try this new butter pie crust that’s good with custards and-”

“I really like you!” (Y/N) blurted out, face going as hot as the burn on her hand. “Would you want to go out with me? Please?” 

Trey tightened his grip on her hand, careful to avoid the injury. He smiled, laughing. “I was wondering if I should say it first. I guess you beat me to it. Yes, (Y/N), I’d love to go out with you.”  

Cater: 

Cater was relaxing in the Heartslabyul gardens, a can of red paint discarded beside him. He hummed something the pop music club had been working on as he scrolled through Magicam. He took a quick selfie, winking, tongue out with a peace sign, before refreshing his feed. 

He paused when he saw (Y/N) come across his dash. She was smiling brightly, one arm arched above her head and the other held down at an angle to create half a heart. The word ‘Will’ was written in bubbly cartoon letters in the middle. A few posts later, there was a second photo, an almost perfect mirror of the first to complete the heart. The word ‘You’ was written in the middle of this one. 

Cater almost felt like he was solving a puzzle as he searched the rest of his feed for more posts. Each had (Y/N) in a dramatic pose, adding another word to complete the sentence, ‘Go,’ ‘Out,’ ‘With’, ‘Me.’ When he realized it was a request to ask someone out, he couldn’t help but feel a little deflated. He shook his head. Of course (Y/N) would be crushing on someone. With all the adventures she had gone on during their time at NRC, it would make sense to develop strong feelings. He tried to quiet the voice in his head that hoped those strong feelings would go his way. Well, whatever, that just meant he had to keep a close eye on whoever had earned her affections, maybe give them a good threatening to treat her right while he was at it. 

Cater tapped on her name, taking him to her Magicam profile. It felt like just the other day when he was helping her set it up. He sighed at the happy memory. For a second, it occurred to him that the message (Y/N) had been spelling out in pictures didn’t end with a question mark. He thought it was weird. Was it a mistake? Then his eye caught on the latest picture, posted just a second before. 

It was a selfie of (Y/N) holding a large bouquet of yellow and orange flowers, marigolds, daisies, and buttercups. The majority of the frame was over her shoulder, showing Cater himself sitting against the hedges. His name was drawn in the same cartoon font with a question mark, surrounded by a heart.  

Cater snapped up, whirling around. He quickly whipped away the happy tears budding at the corner of his eyes as he saw (Y/N) waiting for him. The flowers were crushed between them as he scooped her up in a tight hug, both of them laughing. 

(They both carefully rearranged the flowers after to be presentable for the mandatory #TogetherForever couple photoshoot after.) 

Riddle: 

Riddle frowned at the commotion building from the Heartslabyul common room. He could make out the familiar rising sounds of Ace and Deuce’s voices. He began marching to the source of the racket, faltering a little when he heard (Y/N)’s voice joining in. Mentally scolding himself from eavesdropping  (it wasn’t eavesdropping, he was keeping tabs on his dorm mates, that’s it) he hovered near the cracked open door. 

“No, wait!” (Y/N) said. “We can’t use coral roses! I said pink!” 

Ace huffed. “What’s the difference?” 

(Y/N) tapped a small dark red book she was holding. “Coral roses symbolize desire, pink roses mean admiration and happiness. I’m not trying to scare him off before I can even ask him out!” 

Before he could even think about it, Riddle threw open the door, shouting, “Just what is going on here?” 

Everyone inside jumped. Riddle swept his eyes across the room, taking in the bundles and bundles of roses in multiple colors carefully poised on every surface. Ace and Deuce were meticulously balancing a bouquet in the chandelier, plucking out the offending coral colored roses. Cater was smirking in the corner, phone poised to capture everything. Trey chuckled behind his own large bouquet of yellow roses.. 

“Um,” She said, startled by his interruption. Taking a deep breath, she set the book down and picked up a bouquet of lavender roses, shoving them in Riddle’s direction. 

‘Lavender,’ He thought. ‘Love at first sight.’ 

“Riddle!” She said, probably a little too loudly. “I really like you! Would you go out with me?” 

The silence that followed was deafening. Cater tried to break the tension with a laugh. “Aww, (Y/N),” He said. “What happened to that whole speech you had?” 

“He surprised me!” She said. “Oh, wait, hang on, I still have it.” Without thinking, she shoved the bouquet in Riddle’s arms, searching her pockets to pull out a neatly folded piece of notebook paper. “Ahem. Riddle, I have struggled in vain and I can bear it no longer. These past few months have been a torment. I came to Heartslabuyl with the single objective to see you. I-” 

“Everyone out!” Riddle shouted. As the group scuttled to the door, he pointed at (Y/N). “Not you.” 

The door thudded behind them, Ace and Deuce giving a quick thumbs up and what was supposed to be a confident smile as they left. (Y/N) crinkled the paper in her hands. 

“It gets better,” She said meekly. “The speech. Although I guess in the movie it ends with a rejection too. I should have used the one from the end, or Shakespeare maybe. Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more - well, I guess you're not very temperate. Wait, let me try again.” 

“(Y/N),” He said. He held the lavender flowers tightly. “You know what this means?” 

“Oh, the flowers? Yeah, I, um, I’ve been studying.” She picked the book back up, shyly holding it up. Riddle could read the title now: The Queen of Hearts Guide to Courtship and Love. 

“You,” Riddle said, feeling his face heat up. He held up the flowers. “You mean it? Really?” 

(Y/N) took a step towards him, understanding softening the worry on her face. “Of course. I wanted to ask you out and I thought, well,” She waved at the multicolored roses, laughing. “Go big or go home, right?” 

“It certainly is a statement.” Riddle picked up a yellow rose with red tipping the petals and handed it to her. (Y/N) recognized the colors immediately as meaning ‘Falling in love.’ She gasped in happiness, jumping forward to wrap Riddle in a tight hug. 

Leona: 

“Ruggie!” Ruggie paused as he heard (Y/N) call his name. She jogged over to him where he held Leona’s typical boxed lunch order. “Hey, that’s for Leona, right? Do you mind if I bring it to him? There’s something important I have to talk to him about.” Ruggie considered it for a moment before shrugging and handing it over, but not before stealing a couple of chips to pop into his mouth as he strolled away. 

(Y/N) found Leona in his normal spot, a hidden alcove in the gardens in the biodome. He was laying on his back, arms crossed behind his head, and eyes closed as he dozed. He cracked his eye open as (Y/N) approached. 

“Hi,” She said, kneeling down beside him. 

“Hmm,” He replied. 

“I have something important to ask you.” 

“Are you going to try and make me get up?” “No.” 

“Alright, ask away.” 

“Will you go out with me?” 

Leona’s eyes snapped open. He pushed himself up on his elbows to stare at (Y/N), smiling sincerely at him, and maybe holding his lunch hostage until she got an answer. 

“I really like you,” She continued. “You’re brave and confident and know exactly who you are. Sure, you can be stubborn as hell, but you also really care about people close to you. Don’t make that face, you can’t fool me. You could have easily thrown me out when Grim and I needed someplace to stay when Azul took over Ramshackle, but you didn’t. You didn’t even kick us out when we were making so much noise and annoying you, you helped us break Azul’s contracts instead. You joined the Culinary Crucible because Epel did and you wanted to keep an eye on your team mate. Please, as if you ever need to learn how to cook, I know you can’t even use a microwave. And you pretend not to notice when Ruggie steals your credit card. And there was that time you followed all of us to Playful Land because you were worried we were going to get scammed. You didn’t have to do that, but you did. You’ve got a big heart of gold under that spiky exterior. And I really admire you for that. I… I really love you, Leona.” 

“Well,” Leona said, laying back down, tail flicking. “I suppose going on a date wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” (Y/N) decided not to point out the content smile stretching across his face. She made a move to stand up, but Leona shot an arm out to hook around her waist, pulling her down next to him with an “Oof.” “Now don’t tell anyone else about all that,” Leona grumbled without any real heat. 

Ruggie: 

Ruggie was in Leona’s room, folding laundry while the house warden took a nap behind him. Ruggie stretched his arms above his head, sighing when there was a satisfying pop in his back. Suddenly, the door to the room slammed open. Ruggie yelped and Leona woke with an undignified snort. 

“Gah, what now?” Leona mumbled. 

“Ruggie!” (Y/N) said, standing in the doorway. She was panting as if she had just run across campus (she had). 

“Uh, what? Yeah? Whatever it was, I didn’t take it!” 

Unperturbed, (Y/N) marched over to him, taking both his hands in hers. “You did take something.” Ruggie frantically tried to remember if he had stolen anything from Ramshackle recently. He tried not to, knowing (Y/N) was pretty much as broke as he was. It didn’t seem fair. And maybe he liked her a little too much to swipe something. “You stole my heart!” (Y/N) continued dramatically. “Will you go out with me?” 

Behind them, Leona coughed to unconvincingly cover up a laugh. 

Ruggie’s ears flattened to his head in shock. He reached back and batted at his tail as if that would get it to stop wagging. “I - what? Are you sure? Me? What?” 

“Of course! You’re resourceful, you work hard, you’re clever, and you care a lot about your family back home. I really admire all that about you and more! Not to mention you’re super cute. So, will you go out with me?” 

“Oh, just say yes already, Ruggie,” Leona said, settling down to continue his nap. “At least then I won’t have to hear you being such a sap all the time.” 

Ruggie let out his signature laugh. He tightened his grip on (Y/N)’s hands. “Well, sure then, why not? As long as you’re paying, right?” 

Jack: 

Jack and Vil were out on their daily morning run. The sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon, casting the Night Raven College campus in a warm golden light. At their halfway point, they took a break, Vil stretching in his cooldown. 

“You sure you don’t want to keep going with me?” Jack asked. 

“No,” Vil said. “I’d rather stay slim than bulk up like you. I have my status to maintain. And besides, it looks like I would be interrupting something rather important.” He smiled knowingly and pointed with his chin a little ways down the sidewalk. 

Jack turned. He felt his tail start to wag on its own when he saw (Y/N) standing by one of the Great Seven statues, drawing circles in the ground with her foot. She looked up, breaking out in a warm smile when she saw him. Vil chuckled under his breath and waved as he headed back to Pomfiore. 

Jack clenched his jaw, willing his tail to stay still as he approached her. “Good morning. You’re not usually up this early, right? Is everything okay?” 

(Y/N) jutted her arms out completely straight, offering up the flowering Chin cactus in her hands. “Jack!” She said. “I really like you. I love how brave you are. I love how you’re dedicated to the people you care about. I love how you can be sweet and kind even when you try to act tough all the time. Would you go out with me?” 

“Yes!” Jack replied, almost before the words had even left (Y/N)’s mouth. He put his hands over hers, cradling the cactus. “I mean, yes, I would like to go out with you. Very much.” 

Azul: 

Azul jumped as (Y/N) slammed her hands on his desk in the VIP room of the Monstro Lounge. He quickly gathered his composer, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “Well, Prefect, to what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“I have a deal for you,” She said confidently. 

“Oh? I’d love to hear it.” 

Smiling, she whipped out a sheet of paper and slapped it on top of the other documents Azul had spread over his desk. On the top of the page in an elegant script were the words ‘Contract of First Date.’ Azul felt a lump form in his throat as his heart sped up. He quickly scanned over the rest of the ‘contract,’ outlining the proposed date. 

“Terms of the deal,” (Y/N) continued. “You, me, romantic night out. I know a guy in Craneport who said we could use one of their rowboats and I found this really cool pond with all these willow trees and fireflies. Plus I have this cute picnic basket all set up. Jamil has been teaching me how to cook, you know? Can’t say it’ll be as good as his, if we’re being honest about the terms of agreement. And the contract leaves an opening for future dates depending on the success of this one! Of course, success is not really a super definable term but you get what I mean. So, do we have a deal?” 

Azul covered his face with one hand, trying desperately to ignore how red his face must be at this point. He couldn’t seem to meet her enthusiastic and twinkling eyes. 

“I, uh,” (Y/N) continued, shyer this time as Azul scanned over the contract. “I really like you, Azul. A lot. So, will you go out with me?” 

He looked back down at the contract where her name was written in elegant script at the bottom with space for his next to it. He cleared his throat, bringing back his practiced (definitely not shady) businessman smile. With a sweep of his pen, he said, “It’s a deal.” 

Jade: 

(Y/N) marched across the cafeteria, determination in her eyes. She stopped in front of a table with Jade, Floyd, and Azul. “Hi!” She said, maybe a little too loudly with nerves. Jade and Azul looked up from their conversation, Floyd pausing his efforts in making a castle out of mashed potatoes. “Jade, I really like you. Do you want to go out with me?” 

“Oh?” Jade said, a brief moment of genuine surprise crossing his face before he schooled his features back into pleasant neutrality. “Well, what a pleasant surprise.” 

Floyd snorted and elbowed his brother. “Shrimpy’s got a crush,” He said in a sing-song voice. 

“I must admit,” Jade said, pouting with one hand on his cheek. “I always did imagine a more theatrical confession. Nonetheless, I happily acc-” 

“I can do that!” (Y/N) interrupted. Holding on to Floyd’s shoulder for balance, she climbed on top of the table. She clapped her hands loudly, shouting, “Attention! Attention, please, everyone! I have an announcement!” She cleared her throat as the room fell silent. “I would like to declare my unequivocal, utter devotion and love for Jade Leech.” She heard a choking sound below her but continued on. “I am hopelessly in love, helplessly enraptured, and absolutely head over heels. And it is my deepest hope that he could return my affections. Thank you.” With that, she hopped down, beaming. There was a smattering of applause and laughter from around the room. Epel whooped from back at the first year table. 

Jade’s hands covered his blushing face, fierce sharp eyes peeking out between his fingers. His mouth was split in a wide smile, sharp teeth glinting in a mixture of bashfulness, excitement, and desire. 

“Congratulations, (Y/N),” Azul said. “I can barely remember that last time Jade was actually flustered.” 

“Aww, look at him, he’s speechless!” Floyd teased. 

(Y/N) winced. “Sorry, was that too far?” 

Jade shot out with lightning speed, crushing her in his tight eel grip. “I should let you know,” He whispered to her. “I expect this level of dedication for the entirety of our relationship.” 

Floyd: 

Floyd darted through the stacks of the library. He could have sworn he saw Goldfish in here earlier, and he was in the mood to mess with the easily angered boy. And, while he didn’t find Riddle, he did pause as he saw (Y/N) between the books. He paused, pushing a few books aside to rest his chin on the shelf, an easy smile crossing his face as he spied on her. 

She was hunched over one of the study tables, a large book propped up and open in front of her. She was diligently working on something in her hands, tongue poking out between her lips (lips that Floyd found himself thinking about more often than he would admit), looking back up at the book in front of her every so often. 

Dropping down low, Floyd carefully made his way behind her, silent on his feet. Rising up to his full height behind her, unsuspecting, he jolted forward, wrapping her in a backward hug and pulling her back so the chair careened back on two legs. 

“Shrimpy!” He said, taking delight in her startled squeal. “Whatcha doin’?” 

“God, Floyd,” (Y/N) said, putting a hand to her chest to calm her raging heart. Her eyes suddenly went wide and she lunged forward to cover what she was working on with her arms. “Ah! Don’t look, don’t look! It’s not done!” 

Floyd grinned again. “Aww, it’s not nice to keep secrets.” His hands shot out, pulling out the thing she was hiding. (Y/N) covered her face as Floyd inspected the object. It was a thick piece of twine, various polished shells, sea glass, and dried shiny scales strung throughout. Although it wasn’t exactly neat, the way it caught the sunlight cast tiny rainbows and simmers around the library. Floyd peered at the open book. It was a cultural history of merpeople in the Coral Sea. The opened chapter described mer courting rituals and marriage traditions. Floyd started cackling as (Y/N) buried her face further in her hands.  

“How old is this thing?” Floyd asked, poking at the book. “I don’t even think my grandparents made courting charms.” 

“Shut up,” (Y/N) mumbled. “I was trying to… Forget it.” 

Floyd slipped the haphazard necklace over his neck, prying her hands away to hold them tightly in his. “I accept!” He said brightly. “This was for me, right? It better be, Shrimpy.” 

She smiled and flicked his forehead. “Possibly against my better judgment, I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else, Floyd.” 

Kalim: 

Kalim knew he should probably be studying, but every time he opened a text book or looked at the notes Jamil had oh-so-carefully marked and tabbed for him, he felt his eyes start to droop and mind get fuzzy. A good after lunch walk was just what he needed, and he definitely wasn’t just saying that to put off work. 

He stopped when he realized he had wandered outside Ramshackle dorm. Was that on purpose? Did he subconsciously come here, with the hope he might see (Y/N)? Kalim walked up to the front door, knocking before opening the door and calling inside. 

“Hello! It’s Kalim! Can I come in?” 

There was a squawk of surprise from the front sitting room. (Y/N) poked her head around the corner, flustered. 

“Hi. Sure, come on in. Uh, sorry, I’m kind of in the middle of something.” 

“Can I help?” Kalim asked, walking over to her. Peering into the sitting room, Kalim’s face lit up. Every available surface, and a few unavailable surfaces, were covered in colored and patterned paper. There were stacks and crowds of tiny paper birds littered between everything. 

“I don’t know if it counts if more people make them.” 

Kalim sat on one of the plush chairs, picking up a flowery piece of paper. “If what will count?” 

“It’s an old superstition from my world. If you can fold 1000 paper cranes, your wish will come true. Or something like that.” 

“Ooh, origami! I’ve made decorations using that before! I’m not super good at it, but I’ll help if you want.” 

(Y/N) smiled and sat next to him and Kalim felt his heart flip. “Yeah, I’d like the company.” 

They lost track of time folding cranes, the sun beginning to set high above the dilapidated house. They talked the whole time, jumping from topic to topic, joke to joke, without any real sense of flow. It was warm, there in the small room, not only due to the crackling fireplace. 

“So,” Kalim asked eventually. “What wish were you wanting to make? If this dosen’t work out, I can help you with it!” 

(Y/N) suddenly went bashful, turning away to pay extra attention to the folds of her bird. “I…” She muttered. She took a deep breath, turning to fully face Kalim. “I was going to ask you out. You have all these elaborate decorations and parties all the time. I was going to string all of these together and hang them in your room then ask you out. But, now that you’re here… Kalim, would you go out with me?” 

Kalim dropped the paper crane, flinging himself across the couch to wrap her in a tight hug. “Yes! Yes, yes yes! Oh, I would love to! Huh, I guess that means I need to cancel that order of doves now. That’s how I was going to ask you out next week. Hey, we both thought of birds! That must mean we definitely belong together, right?” 

Jamil: 

“Be right back,” (Y/N) said, standing from the first year cafeteria table. She walked across the cafeteria until she stopped in front of Kalim and Jamil. 

Jamil was shoving a napkin at Kalim. “Careful, you’re going to get sauce all over your shirt.” 

“It’s fine, I’ll be careful! And besides, it’s a pretty color, right? Oh, hey, (Y/N)!” 

“Hi,” She said, looking solely at Jamil. “Jamil, I really like you. Would you want to go out with me?” 

Kalim gasped, hands to his cheeks as he looked excitedly from Jamil to (Y/N). Jamil sucked in a sharp breath, clenching his hands. “I…” He started. “I’m sorry, (Y/N). I can’t.” 

“Oh.” Jamil looked down, but not before he caught the hurt confusion on (Y/N) face. “That’s okay. Thanks for hearing me out. Bye, guys.” She walked back to her table. 

Jamil only looked up again when Kalim slapped his arm. “Jamil! That was your chance!” 

Jamil scowled. “There is no chance. I said no, she accepted it. Drop it.” 

“But you told me you liked her!” 

“I said no such thing.” 

Kalim waved his hand dismissively. “I read between the lines.” 

“There were no lines!” 

“Jamil.” He looked up at Kalim. It wasn’t often the other boy used such a serious voice, or had such a set expression on his face. “You can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep yourself from being happy because you feel like you don’t deserve it.” 

Jamil flinched back, standing suddenly. A million retorts zipped through this mind at once, all of them falling flat and dying on his tongue. Before he could say something he would regret, heart thundering in his ears, he fled the cafeteria, ignoring the stabbing looks from the first year table as (Y/N)’s friends gave her sympathetic pats on the back. 

Jamil couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in his bed, listening to the soft, even breathing of his roommate. Huffing in annoyance, he threw off the covers and left his room. He thought he would just take a walk, just get some fresh air. Without paying attention, Jamil’s feet took him out of Scarabia, across campus, and, before he knew it, in front of Ramshackle dorm. His fist hovered in front of the door, internally debating whether or not he should knock. He startled when he heard talking behind him, spotting (Y/N) and Malleus making their way up the pathway. 

(Y/N) stopped when she saw him. “Oh. Hi, Jamil.” 

“Hi,” Jamil said, limply lifting a hand in greeting. 

Malleus looked down at Jamil, glaring. “Viper.” It sounded more like an insult than his name. 

“Did you need something?” (Y/N) asked. “It’s kind of late. Is everything okay?” 

“I-” Jamil started. “I need to talk to you.” 

Malleus stepped in front of (Y/N), but stopped when (Y/N) put a hand on his arm. They had a quick and quiet conversation, Malleus nodded and walked away. (Y/N) came up to the front door, opening it for him. 

“I’ll make some tea,” She said as they stepped into the entryway. 

“Wait-” Jamil said, catching her hand. Everything tumbled out of him all at once. “I wanted to go out with you. I like you, so much so that it scares me sometimes. That’s why I said no earlier. I just think - I thought you would - should - do better than me, after everything that’s happened. But I -” He paused, only realizing now how out of breath he was. (Y/N) looked up at him and he felt breathless all over again. “I want to do better. I want to be better, for you if not for anything else. I know I probably don’t deserve it but, (Y/N), will you go out with me?” 

(Y/N) laughed, wiping away tears at the corners of her eyes with the heel of her hand. “Yes, I’d like that a lot.” 

Vil: 

Something was wrong, Vil could feel it. After all the chaos of his time at Night Raven College, he had almost developed a sixth sense for this type of thing. 

Vil narrowed his eyes, sweeping them over the Pomfiore sitting room. A group of students were sitting around one of the tables, studying. A few others were in front of the fireplace. A couple others were performing some viral dance for a Magicam reel. Nothing seemed amiss here. 

Vil walked down the hall of the dorm, heels clicking against the marble floor. With a missed step, Vil realized he hadn’t seen Epel or Rook in quite some time. That was… concerning. He quickened his walk. 

Vil almost gave himself whiplash as he passed by the ballroom. The door was cracked open ever so slightly so he could peer through. He felt slightly ridiculous, eavesdropping as if he wasn’t the caretaker for the dorm and all those in it. But his thoughts faltered as he observed the scene inside. He found Epel and Rook, as well as several other Pomfiore students, constructing elaborate sets out of painted cardboard and repurposed decorations from the dorm. Was that…? Something about this all seemed eerily familiar. 

“Wait, wait! You’re early!” (Y/N) said. She appeared in front of him, waving her hands to try and block his view. She grabbed his hand, tugging him out of the room. “Don’t look!” She pushed him back into the hall, disappearing back into the ballroom. A second later, she emerged with a chair, setting it down and waving to it. “Just another few minutes.” The door clicked closed behind her before Vil could say anything. He thought about barging in, demanding an explanation. But his curiosity got the better of him. And besides, he always loved to see what (Y/N) got up to. Huffing in amusement, he sat down, crossing his legs at the ankles. 

A while later, Epel, Rook, and the other students fled the ballroom, giving Vil knowing looks as they passed. With skepticism, Vil stood up and made his way inside. Standing in the doorway, he was suddenly hit with a wave of nostalgia. Taking a better look, he recognized the replica set. It was from one of his first ever movies, a children’s adventure called The Heist of the Everlasting Rose. This particular scene was set in a museum where the Everlasting Rose was kept. It had been a supporting role, where, ironically, he had played a child actor in part of a crew to steal the titular Rose to pay for the main character’s sister’s surgery, or some other such justifiable nonsense like that. It was his first big screen production, although it was a relatively low-budget and minor movie. He remembered after the film had come out he and his father would pour over reviews praising his performance. At that moment, he felt like he was on top of the world. 

Vil was brought out of his reminiscing by (Y/N)’s voice. “Hello, sir!” She said. She had put on a tour guide’s jacket, once again modeled after the one in the film. “Welcome to the museum! We have our prized exhibit right this way.” Vil smirked, humoring her, if nothing else than to see where this was all going. Linking their arms, (Y/N) brought him through the makeshift museum. “Legend has it that this rose was given by a cursed prince to his beloved, who saved him from the brink of death with its magical powers. Since then, it has been a symbol of pure and everlasting love.” She carefully lifted the cloche from the silk flower, tiny fairy lights arranged around the base. She held it out to him, one hand dramatically pressed to her chest. “And now, I’d like to give it to you, Vil, to profess my everlasting love. Would you go out with me?” 

Vil couldn’t help it, it was all too much. The extravagant set, (Y/N) memorizing specific passages from such an old and now obscure film, the entire production. He burst out laughing, pressing the back of his hand against his mouth, eyes closed. “Well,” He said, catching his breath. “After such a wonderful effort, how could I possibly say no? Yes, my dearest (Y/N), I would love nothing more than to be with you.” 

Rook: 

“(Y/N), you’re gonna shoot your eye out.” 

“No, it’ll be fine. You have to take risks for the sake of love.” 

“Oh, Seven, we don’t need two of you.” 

Rook’s ears picked up, hearing Epel and (Y/N) talking in the back gardens of the Pomefiore dorm. Smiling, he crept around to (definitely not) spy on them. (Y/N) was struggling with a large bow, an arrow flopping around as she tried to aim it. Pomfiore had a small target practice area set up in the back of the dorm. (Y/N) was trying, emphasis on trying, to shoot arrows at one of the red and white round targets. After her latest arrow struck the ground in front of the target, Epel sighed and walked to the target, collecting other fallen arrows. He stabbed them into the target in the shape of a heart, a letter with Rook’s name pinned to the bullseye. 

“Don’t say I never did anything for you,” Epel said. 

“Oh? And what favor are you performing, Monsieur Pommette?” Both of them jumped, Rook smiling wider at the surprised squeak (Y/N) made. 

“You’re on your own, (Y/N)!” Epel said before rushing off. 

(Y/N) huffed. “Traitor,” She said under her breath. She turned to Rook. “Hi.” 

“Bonjour, Trickster.” 

“You’re, uh, early. I thought you were going to be at your club for a while longer.” 

Rook waved a hand. “There was an unexpected explosion and we had to evacuate. But I am much more interested in what you’re up to here.” 

“Ah, well…” She trailed off, limply pointing to the letter stabbed in the target. She covered her face with her hands, heat rushing to her cheeks as Rook elegantly plucked the letter up and began reading. 

(Y/N) could basically see the hearts forming in his eyes as he finished reading her confession. He dramatically clutched the love letter to his chest, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. “Oh, mon amour le plus cher! Comme c’est merveilleux de lire vos sentiments les plus caret! Je n’ai jamais vu quelque chose d’aussi beau!” 

“So,” (Y/N) asked nervously. “Is that a yes?” 

“Oui, oui! One thousand times oui!” He cheered as he gathered her in a swinging hug. 

Epel: 

Epel found the first note the day after (Y/N)’s announcement in the cafeteria. Whatever she had wanted to do was apparently pretty important, as she had grabbed Grim and they left immediately. Epel hadn’t seen her the rest of the day, but he would recognize that handwriting on the paper wrapped around his dorm room handle anywhere. 

He looked around to make sure no one was watching before unfolding the paper and reading. ‘Epel, I have something important I need to ask, but before that I have a simple task. Take this first note of the set and go to the place we first met. Love, (Y/N).’ Epel tried not to think too much about that ‘Love’ part. Where did he and (Y/N) first meet? At this point it almost felt like they had known eachother forever. 

Would that be, maybe, the well in the quad? Epel remembered meeting her, Ace, Deuce, and Grim there when he was rehearsing singing, using the well’s acoustics. But, no, they had seen each other somewhere else first. Epel blushed in embarrassment at the memory. He had been crying, frustrated to hell and back with Vil’s lectures right after coming back from winter break. He’d run into them at the Great Seven statues. 

Epel went to the statues, deciding if he didn’t find anything there he would try the well. But, lo and behold, another note was waiting at the base of the Fairest Queen’s statue. He read, ‘Epel, Congrats on finding your second clue! By now you have an idea of what to do. For the next place I want you to go, think of the place we lived side by side before the show. Love, (Y/N).’ 

That one was easy, Ramshackle dorm. As Epel sprinted across campus, both notes held tightly in his fist, he reminisced about spending his days training for the VDC in Ramshackle. Most of the time there seemed like torture, running endless dancing drills, feeling constricted by Vil’s lessons whose purpose he still didn’t fully understand at the time, worrying about the whole dorm falling down around his ears at any moment. But there were plenty of good moments too. (Y/N) making them - Vil approved - breakfast in the morning, her encouragement at each of their rehearsals, how she would slip them treats when Vil and Rook’s backs were turned to help boost their mood. 

Sure enough, Epel found his next note on the Ramshackle front gate. There was another rhyme instructing him to go to another location, also connected to his and (Y/N)’s relationship and past. That lead to another and to another and another, each unlocking a precious memory between the two. Eventually, he unfolded the final note, the sun just starting to set, casting NRC in beautiful golden light. ‘Epel, I hope by now you get to see exactly how much you mean to me. We’ve been through a lot and I’ve enjoyed every and I’ve enjoyed every second, and… Okay, I can’t come up with any more rhymes. Just turn around!’ 

Lowering the paper, Epel turned, opening his arms just in time to catch (Y/N) in a big hug. They spun around each other for a second with the momentum, finally coming to a stop and looking to each other's eyes. 

“Hi,” (Y/N) said. “Did you like my scavenger hunt?” 

“You’re bad at rhyming,” Epel said with a crooked smile. 

She wacked his shoulder. “Hey, I meant what I wrote, though. I really like you, Epel. Would you go out with me?” 

Epel squeaked her tight. “Only if you promise not to write any more poetry.” 

Idia: 

Idia was holding out in his room, huddled under a blanket, his phone clutched tight in his hand. He was watching a live stream from his favorite idol group, Premo. He smiled as the group answered fan questions, talked about their upcoming tour, and demonstrated how to perform some of their most famous dance moves. 

The viewer chat scrolled across the side of the screen. Donations and chat reactions popped up in various animations across the screen. Idia hit the donate button, sending a flurry of roses blooming along the edges of the screen. He smiled as the idols thanked Gloomurai for his support. 

One of the idols leaned over, checking the chat feed. She gasped, flapping a hand at the others and enthusiastically pointing at what she was reading. They all started smiling and giggling, whispering to each other. Idia shuffled closer, as if that would let him read whatever message they had gotten. 

“Hey, everyone!” One of them said. “We’ve got a super special shout-out! This is from (Username) to… Gloomurai!” 

Idia’s heart raced as he sat up in bed, blanket draped over him. (Username), (Username)... Wait, he recognized that. That was your username! He had helped you set up your account to the MMO he played a while ago. He remembered helping you through the intro stages, stumbling over the tutorials. He had laughed at your frustrated frown as you died on the same boss for the third time. 

“Aww,” The second idol said. “This is sweet. It says, ‘Gloomurai, I thought about telling you this in person, but I wasn’t sure when that would actually be. And sometimes big feelings require big gestures. I like you, I really, really like you. I think I have for a long time. I love your smile, I love your hair, I love your brain, I love that you’re such an amazing big brother. Will you go out with me?’ Well, Gloomurai? Tell us your answer! We’re waiting on pins and needles here!” 

“Oh, wait,” The third idol said. “There’s more. It says, ‘PS, check your door.’” 

Idia yelped as he shot up, the blanket falling to a heap on the floor. Heart thundering in his chest and head starting to go fuzzy. He almost felt like he was in a daze as he walked with trepidation to his door. Slowly opening it, Idia saw a basket placed just in front. It was filled with his favorite snacks, small acrylic standees of characters from his favorite games and anime, and studded with bluebells, irises, and blue asters. A large paper heart was pinned to the front with her and his initials drawn in the middle. Hair flaring pink, he quickly brought the basket back into his room before any of his dorm mates would notice. 

He heard commotion from his phone, Premo and the chat all eagerly awaiting his response. He sent in another donation with a simple, “Yes.” The idols cheered and squealed. 

He swiped out of the livestream, opening his messaging app. (Y/N)’s name popped up with a new message, a cheering emoticon with three blue hearts. 

He subconsciously covered his face as he smiled wide, typing back, “You’re so cringe. Can’t wait for the date.” 

Silver: 

(Y/N) sprinted across campus, heading whipping around to try and catch a familiar shimmer of silver white hair. She skidded to a stop when she saw a black Diasamonia coat draped over a low tree branch, a pair of shined boots sticking out behind the trunk. 

(Y/N) rounded the old oak tree. “Silv-! Oh, sorry.” 

Silver was reclining against the tree, hands folded across his stomach, chest rising and falling with deep even breaths, eyes closed and lips slightly parted as he slept. A few songbirds and a pair of squirrels congregated around him, looking up with big eyes at the newcomer. 

(Y/N) shifted her weight from foot to foot before screwing up her courage and sitting down next to Silver. She shuffled down so she laid next to him, still leaving enough room to not cause too much of a scandal if anyone walked by. She settled down, closing her eyes and relaxing, taking in the sounds of the woodland animals around them, the talking of other students in the distance, the wind whispering through the trees. 

A short while later, she heard stirring next to her. (Y/N) blinked awake quickly, propping herself up and leaning back on her hands as Silver woke up beside her. 

“Hi,” She said. “Would  you want to go out with me?” 

Silver blinked the sleep out of his eyes, looking up at her. “I must still be dreaming,” He muttered. “If I am, then…” He reached forward, cupping the back of her head and pulling her down. She gasped as their lips brushed. Silver’s eyes suddenly shot open and he jerked back from her as if burned. “I- uh-” He studded, pale skin turning a ruby red. 

(Y/N) giggled at his embarrassment. “Well, I guess that’s a yes, right?” 

Sebek: 

“Be right back!” (Y/N) said as she suddenly stood from the first year cafeteria table. Before anyone had a chance to say anything, she was off like a shot. 

“Any idea what that was about?” Epel asked. The others shrugged. 

Grim reached over to snag half (Y/N)’s sandwich from her discarded tray. “Probably going to go ask out that boy she keeps talking about,” He said nonchalantly, mouth full. 

Sebek choked, standing fast and slamming his hands on the table so all their plates and cutlery clattered. “What!” 

“Chill, man,” Ace said, waving him down as people across the cafeteria turned to stare. Ace smirked. “Unless you’re particularly invested in (Y/N)’s love life?” 

Sebek blushed and slammed back into his seat. He picked his knife and fork back up and started sawing at his Salisbury steak. “No,” He snapped. “(Y/N) can do whatever she wants. What do I care?” 

“Sure,” Epel said. 

(Y/N) reappeared in the cafeteria a short while later, Malleus in tow. She was talking with him, gesturing with her hands. Malleus had a wide, amused smile, nodding along. 

Sebek stood again, at attention for his prince. “Good afternoon, Lord Malleus!” He said. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence?” He scowled at the other first years rolling their eyes at his formality. 

“Hello, Sebek. I’ve come to give my blessing.” 

“Blessing?” 

“Sebek!” (Y/N) said brightly. She took both his hands in hers as he sputtered and blushed. “I really like you. Would you go out with me?” 

For once, Sebek was speechless, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. (Y/N) squeezed his hands tighter as Malleus chuckled next to them. “Well, Sebek? It’s not polite to keep a lady waiting.” 

Life seized back into the knight. He tightened his grasp on (Y/N), pulling her closer. “Yes! Absolutely! I mean, ahem, I accept your offer of courting, since you went so far to get my lord’s blessing, after all.” 

Lilia: 

Lilia wouldn’t call what he was doing skulking, exactly. More like surprise chaperoning, keeping an eye on the youngsters of Night Raven College like a good upperclassman should. And, if he just so happened to pop out and scare the living daylights out of whatever unfortunate student happened to be nearby, well, more fun for him. 

So it wasn’t especially surprising when he heard Silver and (Y/N) talking to each other in the courtyard. As a sly smile stretched across his face, he floated to a hiding place in the shadows of the flying buttresses, resting on his stomach to kick his feet, chin resting in his hands, as he observed the two. 

“You want my permission?” Silver asked, an amused smile on his face. 

“Of course!” (Y/N) replied. “I wouldn’t want to make it weird by dating him while we’re all still students together.” 

Lilia faltered. That was the problem with spying, sometimes you heard things you didn’t want to. So the Prefect was romantically interested in someone, eh? And if they were asking Silver for permission, it must be someone close to him. Sebek, maybe? Or, oh dear, Malleus? Lilia knew for a fact that both of the boys thought of (Y/N) as a close and dear friend and nothing more. His heart panged in sympathy at the idea of rejection. And, if he was being honest with himself, it panged with something else as well. 

“You don’t think he’s a little old for you?” Silver asked teasingly. 

“Maybe I like a silver fox,” (Y/N) teased right back. 

Silver laughed. “I don’t think I ever want to hear my father described as a silver fox ever again.” 

Lilia lost his concentration, falling with a yelp against one of the chandeliers hanging in the hallway. 

“Lilia?” (Y/N) asked with a gasp. 

Lilia smiled, trying to regain poise as he floated down to them. “Looks like I’m not as slick as I used to be. Now, what were you two discussing just now?” 

(Y/N) look startled. Silver gave her shoulder a reassuring pat and left with a wave. Just the two of them now, (Y/N) took a deep breath, building up her courage. 

“Lilia!” She said, probably a little too loudly with nerves. “I really like you! Would you go out with me?” 

Lilia chuckled, leaning close to enjoy the shy and flustered look on her face. “Well, if you have my son’s blessing, how am I to refuse? Besides, I think I rather like being called a, what was it you said? A silver fox?” 

Malleus: 

Malleus looked up from his book, looking around his room for the source of the noise that disturbed his studying. There, another sharp ‘ping’ from across the room. He looked to the window, noticing a small pebble hitting the glass. He walked over and opened the window, dodging just in time to miss another pebble. 

“Oops! Sorry, Horton!” He looked down, a smile automatically crossing his face at (Y/N)’s voice. But his expression quickly changed to puzzlement as he looked down at her. (Y/N) was standing in the courtyard of the Diasomonia dorm, inside a giant heart made of dozens of tiny tea candles. 

In a swirl of green light, Malleus appeared next to her on the ground floor. She jumped a little bit at his sudden appearance, but quickly recovered herself and beamed up at him. He felt his heart flip in that pleasant way it always did when he was near her. 

“What’s all this?” 

She cleared her throat dramatically, dropping to one knee. “Dearest Horton, you have bewitched me body and soul. I would like to officially court you. Would you do me the absolute pleasure of accompanying me on a date this weekend?” 

Malleus blinked down at her for a moment, basking in the admiration and adoration filling her eyes. He laughed, reaching down to take her hand and pull her to standing. “My, how formal,” He said. 

She smiled, shrugging. “I wanted it to be memorable. Couldn’t manage the fireworks, though. Sorry.” 

“I can rectify that.” With an elegant sweep of his hand, sparks erupted from Malleus’s fingertips, shooting into the dark sky around the dorm to explode in fantastic colors. Students from in the dorm leaned out windows to admire the impromptu show. 

Malleus drew (Y/N) closer to him, admiring the multicolor flashes playing across her face. “I would adore being anywhere with you.”

[stars-inthe-sky]

if there's solid ground below

It's been five years, but I wrote a whole fic this week thanks in no small part to the singular @iphyslitterator!

[Cross-posted to AO3]

“H—hey, Tommy?”

Tommy startles and bangs his head on the hood of his truck, recovering fast enough that none of the oil he was nearly done changing spilled but not so fast that it would have escaped Evan’s notice. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just surprised,” he says, grabbing for a spare rag to wipe his hands on. “Hi.”

“Got a sec?” Evan rocks onto the balls of his feet and back again, hands shoved deep in the pockets of a hoodie that, in southern California in May, it should really be too warm for. But he runs cold, and the layers always have the added bonus of making Tommy want to rip them off in some kind of Pavlovian response.

Had. Last summer, they’d had that effect. This summer was shaping up differently.

Evan tilts his head, a little quizzical, and Tommy realizes he’s been frozen in place for a few beats too long, dazedly dragging the rag between his fingers.

“Sorry, yeah, go ahead.” He glances down at the car, which hasn’t moved, then back at Evan, who’s still rocking but who looks, Tommy’s now realizing, noticeably lighter than he has in a while—certainly since the funeral, but maybe even more so than that night in the bar all those weeks ago. His smile is far too small, but it’s there. “Although if you need another helicopter, I’m gonna have to start charging you at some point.”

“That’s okay, I heard your fees are competitive,” he chirps, and if his grin isn’t yet lethal, it’s shifted to shit-eating. Which, for Tommy, is lethal anyway, and Evan knows it. “But no, I just…just wanted to talk this time. For real, for once.”

Oh. “Okay…?”

“You can keep doing whatever you were doing; I know you like to have something to do with your hands.”

“Uh, thanks.” He stuffs the rag in the back pocket of his jeans and fishes the oil canister out of his car’s innards. This might be easier without eye contact. “What’s up?”

“I’m taking a sabbatical from the LAFD,” Evan says. Tommy freezes again, more of a twitch than a full stop, and makes himself continue the actual task at hand. “Three months. Mostly thanks to an insane amount of unused PTO, because I realized I kinda haven’t taken a vacation that wasn’t just medical leave in like…ever. And I need a break, you know, after everything? Like, I spent a bunch of my twenties driving around, odd jobs and stuff, and the world is—is so much bigger than the firehouse, or this city, and…yeah.  I think I need that space for a bit. Just got it approved today. And then I came here.”

He pauses for breath, and Tommy stares unseeing at some perfectly intact wiring he could reconnect by touch alone if asked. “That’s great they’re letting you do that, Evan. I’m sure it’ll be good for you. How’d the others take it?”

There’s a little sigh. “I haven’t told them yet. Battalion chief said I’d always have a job to come back to, but they couldn’t hold my spot indefinitely. Depends on the new captain and how they want to staff up. Makes sense, obviously, so.” His sniffle is nearly inaudible, but Tommy’s never been able to tune out Evan’s frequency.

He gives up on the car, closing the hood with a quiet click and resuming with the rag, even though his hands aren’t especially dirty. “Never thought you’d voluntarily leave the 118.”

“I know, right?” Evan’s mouth twitches, and it’s not quite a smile now, but there’s something genuine growing back. “I mean, I guess I might not be, but. Things change, and it’s…time, maybe. I’m doing this, in any case. I—I—I just need to clear my head for a while. Go visit Minnesota, never been there, but then…I don’t know, maybe touch the Atlantic Ocean again. Camp out in some national parks. Go see the sky in Montana—it’s so big, Tommy, I’ve never seen anything like it, not since those years, and the last couple of months…it’s like the smog is just in everything right now, you know?”

Tommy nods. He can relate, despite how often he gets to soar above the chokehold of Los Angeles; smoke is smoke, and heat still rises. “I get it. So…this is goodbye, then?” He swallows, bites his lip, stares down at his fingers and the rag still entwined in them.

“No!” Evan leans forward for a breath, arm lifting, but he seems to stop himself, like he’s remembering they don’t know where they stand with each other, if he’s allowed to grab Tommy’s shoulder. “No, no, I’m coming back. LA is still home, my—my stuff’s going into a storage unit next week, my sister and my niece are here, and the new baby—the job—no, yeah, I’m coming back.”

“That’s good,” Tommy muses. “So…”

“So, I wanted to ask—I—I—I’m asking if you’d maybe be up for thinking about coming with me.”

Tommy freezes so suddenly, and so thoroughly, that the rag drops to the ground. “You—you’re going on a three-month road trip to get away from it all, and you want me to come with you?”

“Yeah, I do,” Evan says softly, surely, ducking his head in that bashful way he pretends not to know is so damn effective. “I need a break from everything, and everyone—but you, you’re not everyone. I meant what I said about being together, before. I still mean it.” Tommy feels both arms drop to his sides, heavy and limp like emptied hoses, and the air jerks out of his lungs as his throat closes tight.

Evan plows ahead. “I—if—if you don’t want to, or you can’t swing it with work, or whatever—I get it, that’s why I’m asking and not—not telling you what to do. I don’t—even if you don’t come, I’d wait. And, and text or call, maybe? If you wanted to? Even if it’s just as friends, my life is always better when you’re in it. Kinda hoping that goes both ways here.”

Tommy croaks, “And when you get tired of me before we hit Reno?”

“I won’t,” he says, no hesitation. Tommy’s slack face must do something, because he repeats, “Tommy, I won’t. I won’t. I just want time with you, more time, all the time. I want to try again, so, so bad. And if we fight, we can talk, and not just think the worst, and keep going, be—because I want to eat crappy gas station food with you and not think about the inside of a gym for weeks. I want to drive out somewhere where it feels like we’re the only people on the planet, and fuck in the back of your truck, and then figure out a map that’s older than either of us because there’s no cell service. Maybe rent a chopper in Montana so we can see that sky up close—there’s, there’s so many stars, and you’re the only person I’d want to see them with like that. I want to be locked in a moving vehicle with you all day, except for bathroom stops, and see your face when you realize it’s been 16 hours and we still have more to talk about, and we’ll just keep going, because I’m never gonna get tired of you.”

He pauses and swallows thickly, and Tommy can’t look away. For all that Evan Buckley wears his heart on his sleeve so easily for anyone to see, actually opening it up and offering to hand it over to someone else—that’s still work. “So—that’s what I came to say. That’s what I want. J—just think about it. No rush, I’m not—I’ll wait. If it’s what you want. You…you get to want things, too. So. Yeah.”

Evan nods to himself, rubs the back of his neck, and turns to walk back to his car, parked on the street. Tommy has to move, has to say something, but the soles of his boots are melting, fused to the cement of the driveway, his throat is still closed, and Evan—Evan is walking away.

Tommy wants things, too.

He forces a breath, in and out, on a four-count, licks his lips, and asks, “When do we leave?”

Evan radiates a warmth that scatters out, tangible and visible like a sunrise before he even turns around, beaming. “I was thinking a few weeks after the baby comes, but—but—yeah?”

“Yeah, I, uh, I could chase some stars over the Rockies. With you.” Tommy’s insides unknot, and the life rushes back into his limbs. “And the rest, too. I noticed it’s my truck in this scenario?”

Suddenly Evan is in front of him, closer than they’d managed even that morning after, pressed gently against him from chest to knees, arms winding around his waist. “Much more cargo space. Very practical. And I kinda thought you might be in the same boat, you know, with the unused vacation. Maybe enough seniority to hang onto your spot.”

“Probably, yeah, they generally…” He doesn’t even know how that sentence might have ended, has rarely thought about anything more than a long weekend away, but then Evan’s kissing him, deep and slow and sweet like they might already be the only people on the planet. His warmth flashes over through Tommy, nerve by nerve, until he’s lit up and burning, flammable in places he’d spent months trying to forget this man could expose.

When Evan pulls back, it’s with Tommy’s face between his hands, his relief and hope palpable. Like life might go on, like the world might really be bigger, could even be better, sometimes, than it had been.

“Let’s go,” he whispers, so close and so quiet that Tommy can feel each syllable rumble against his skin, tires steady on a gravel road away from this scene and toward the next.

[roastedoatmilk]

Who Kissed Nanami?

Kento Nanami x GN! Reader

Summary: The first year trio see that someone left lipstick on Nanami’s collar so they decide to play detective and figure out who it was

Word Count: 1.7k

Tags: literally so much fluff, the first years follow nanami, heavily implied itafushi, some sprinkles of nobamaki, nanami and reader being disgustingly in love with each other

Little Things Masterlist

This was also posted on ao3

A/N This was heavily inspired by a selfship commission i have from my lovely friend cassecreeoute let me know if y’all would like to see it :D

Something was different about Nanami, that much Yuji could tell. He wasn’t quite sure what it was but the stoic man seems to have a bit more pep in his step as of late. While out on missions Nanami seemed more adamant than usual to leave at exactly 6pm, making quick work of whatever it is that’s keeping him. On multiple occasions the pink haired boy has caught his mentor smiling at his phone; two things that the man doesn’t often do. On this day in particular the elder man came into work with a faint red mark peeking up from almost right under where the collar of his shirt meets his neck causing alarm bells to go off in the boy’s head. Yuji decides that his best course of action is to go to Fushiguro and Kugisaki with his findings. He manages to catch Fushiguro while he’s leaving his dorm only offering a small “Need to talk to you.” before grabbing the spiky haired boy by the hand and dragging him down the hallway.

They managed to find Kugisaki sitting beside Maki in the courtyard, the two girls leaning over a phone discussing something in hushed voices. As the boys drew closer they were able to catch a bit of their conversation. 

“I’m telling you Maki he’s obviously hiding something.” Nobara whispers to her elder classmate before continuing.”Nanami doesn’t seem like the type to share stuff like that anyways.” 

Maki nods along before looking up and seeing the two boys approaching them, still holding hands with each other. A smirk grows on the green haired girl’s face seeing this before she stands up and says her goodbyes to the trio. The boys make their way over to their counterpart sitting down next to her. Nobara looks the two boys up and down in annoyance.

“What do the two of you want?” The ginger girl huffs, “I was having a conversation you know.”

Yuji flushes in embarrassment, lowering his head before responding in a hushed voice “I think Nanamin has someone special in his life, I’ve noticed some stuff about him lately.” 

Hearing this Nobara visibly perks up giving the cursed boy her full attention, grabbing him by the shoulders she shakes him while saying “Why didn’t you start with that, tell me everything you know right now!” 

“Kugisaki, if you expect him to answer you need to stop shaking him.” Megumi says, speaking for the first time since Yuji dragged him to the courtyard. 

The elder girl stopped shaking the boy, giving him a break so that he can say his findings. Taking a deep breath Yuji then tells the two everything that he has noticed, even showing them the photo he sneakily took of the mark on Nanami’s neck. Nobara snatched the phone out of his hands to examine the photo further, zooming in as close as possible on the photo.

“I definitely recognize that shade of lipstick, a bit too red for my taste personally.” The girl speaks before handing the phone back to its owner.

Yuji pockets his phone, collecting his thoughts for a moment before declaring “I think we need to investigate where Nanami is going after work, he told me he has somewhere to be tonight.” 

A bewildered look crosses Megumi’s face as he listens to the boy next to him, not really wanting to spend his night following the blond stoic man around. However Nobara seems equally as determined as the pink haired boy to figure out what Nanami is hiding. The two of them lean into each other and whisper ideas of where the man could be heading to.��

Later that night at exactly 6pm Nanami stands from his desk, paperwork already completed, and starts to head out for the night. The first years watch as the door to his office opens and he walks out, heading straight for the entryway of the school. The three students spring into action, following behind the man at a reasonable distance. 

They watch as the man pulls out his phone and calls someone the second he walks through the school’s barrier. Yuji and Nobara gasp as they see the man smile as he says he’ll meet whoever is on the other end of the line at a restaurant a few blocks away, their jaws drop even more as they hear the man say that he loves the person and that he’ll see them soon. Nobara grabs the two younger boys and forces them into a group huddle. 

“He’s definitely seeing someone, we need to follow him to the restaurant and find out who it is.” The girl whispers conspiratorially. Yuji firmly nods agreeing with her while Megumi just sighs before nodding as well. 

The three continue following behind the taller man, making sure to keep their distance. When he arrives at the restaurant he visibly perks up when he sees a person sitting at one of the tables by the window. Making his way inside the trio watch as he walks over to the person, coming up behind them and placing his hands over their eyes causing the person to laugh as they try and guess who it is covering their eyes. Nobara and Yuji’s eyes widen as they watch the person remove his hands from their eyes then stand up and turn around to face Nanami, placing a kiss on his lips leaving behind a mark in the same shade as the one on his neck. Nobara lets out a squeal so loud that it causes the two lovers’ heads to snap in her direction. The first years freeze in place knowing that they are now caught spying on the older man. 

Nanami lets out a deep sigh, pinching his fingers between his eyes and shaking his head. His partner however just laughs at the shocked faces of the kids, leaning into Nanami’s shoulder for support. The older man's shoulders now bouncing as he also chuckles at the kids. The three stand there in complete shock watching the two adults laugh at their expense. 

“W-we are so sorry for following you Nanamin, we just had noticed some stuff about you lately and wanted to find out what it meant.” Yuji stutters, his face completely red at this point. 

“Yeah!” Nobara chimed in, “Besides it was Itadori’s idea in the first place I was just following along.” This caused the pink haired boy to bow his head in shame, nodding along to the words of the older girl. Megumi stands with the two before waving shyly at you, his face a vibrant shade of pink. 

You laugh even harder at the three students before making your way over to them standing in front of the trio. Nanami follows behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“It’s very nice to meet you two and it’s nice to see you again Megumi.” You say to the kids, your voice gentle as if talking to a baby deer.  A bright look in your eyes as you speak to the kids. 

Yuji’s head shoots up towards Megumi at hearing that the dark haired boy had met you before, Megumi refusing to look at his friends mutters a “It’s nice to see you again too.” 

Yuji and Nobara round on him after he speaks, the elder girl staring daggers into the green eyed boy. 

“Why didn't you tell us that you knew about Nanami’s partner huh??” Nobara squawks clinging to his arm.

“Do you not trust us, is that it Fushiguro?” Yuji asks with fake tears in his eyes, playing into Nobara’s act.

Megumi frees himself from Nobara before he tentatively reaches out to hook his pinky around the pink haired boy’s own. Megumi takes a few moments before speaking to his friends in a soft tone, “It just wasn’t my place to reveal that sort of information, I figured they were keeping it a secret for a reason.” 

The other two nod in understanding, giving up the act they had been putting on finding his reason acceptable. Yuji locks his pinky around Megumi’s in response. The two boys shyly looked at each other before the clearing of a throat caused their heads to snap up. Nanami and you are still standing there watching the trio, a small smile gracing both of your faces. 

“Have any of you eaten yet?” The tall blond man asks the trio, his voice soft. The three shake their heads in response, and on queue Yuji’s stomach starts to growl. Causing everyone to let out a laugh. 

“Come on kiddos, let's get you guys some food before you have to go back to school.” You say, ushering the kids into the restaurant. 

The three sitting in the booth across from where Nanami and yourself sit. You spend the next few hours getting to know the kids as you all eat. Answering any of the questions that the trio had. After all of the food was eaten and the kids ran out of questions, Nanami paid the bill before telling the kids that he’ll walk them back to the school. The three groan not yet wanting to go back but follow the elder man anyways. Before they leave Nanami gives you a peck on the lips, a smile gracing his face as he looks at you. 

“I’ll be home as soon as I make sure that they’re all back in their dorms.” The freckled man murmurs, placing yet another peck on your lips. You laugh at the man before nodding and turning to the kids. 

“It was lovely meeting you both Itadori and Kugisaki, and it was great seeing you again Fushiguro.” you tell the trio. Wrapping the three of them into a quick hug. 

“It was nice meeting you too.” Yuji and Nobara blurt at the same time causing you to smile even wider at them. 

“It was good to see you again.” Megumi mutters his face still pink from embarrassment.

You let the three go and Nanami ushers them towards the exit, the three dragging their feet behind him. Laughing at the kids as you watch them go, you hope that you’ll be able to have dinner with the trio again soon.

A/N here’s part two i had tons of fun writing this i hope y’all enjoy it as always lmk what y’all think in the comments 🫶🏻

[filiazpink]

🩷"OH PRIMUS,,,"🩷

orion pax x femme + superior! reader x d-16 warnings: suggestive language (like- once but still), darkwing being darkwing, i’m a sucker for cheesy stuff, really minor transformers one spoilers (?)

summary: orion finds himself completely enamored with one of his superiors and d-16 doesn’t really mind it, until one day, you show up at the mines.

a/n: my very first tumblr fic!! i might post this on my AO3 account as well! hope this reached your expectations considering more than 200 people voted for this prompt on my poll  =͟͟͞͞(꒪ᗜ꒪‧̣̥̇) ill get to some of the other prompts shortly after, i just wanted to know which one would be best to start with (and to properly introduce my writing to tumblr teehee) !! comments and reblogs are highly appreciated !! ENJOY!! 💞💞💞

word count: 1139

proofread: minimal (lemme know if there's any errors!!)

read part 2 here: 💞💞

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orion simply couldn't stop thinking about you.

your shiny and colorful armor, your beautiful optics, your height and strength. that voice. the power and authority you had over him. that power rivaled sentinel prime’s in his eyes. everything.

you were simply breathtaking. 

…

“earth to orionnnn, come on, rust bucket!!” pink servos waving at him frantically snapped the red and blue mech out of his trance. focusing his glance, orion watched as elita-1 gave him one of the scariest faces he’s seen yet, followed by d-16 behind her with his arms crossed, looking at his friend with a disappointed expression.

“what’s wrong with you?! you broke protocol, AGAIN!” elita pulled the miner to his feet, groaning in annoyance. orion’s dumb dopey smile quickly turned into a shocked frown and he was about to ask what he did now, but thankfully, his friend answered for him.

“orion, buddy, i know,,, i know you just wanted to save jazz from that explosion but you almost got killed doing that, man.” d-16 looked to the side, avoiding his friend’s gaze.

“you can’t keep doing this, pax. ONE more stunt like this and I’LL be the one to get-”

“what happened here??” elita snapped her head towards the newcomer’s voice, expecting maybe another miner, but her angry scowl quickly faded away once she saw who it was.

it was elita’s superior. 

it was you. 

oh primus, beautiful, amazing, spectacular you. orion felt a rush of warmth cover his face as you walked in along with,,,

oh- with darkwing. of course he was there with you.

STILL- you just showed up with no prompting, and two days in advance no less?? clearly, this was important.

orion fixed his posture and tried to dust off any grime he had on him. d-16 chuckled quietly at his best friend’s excitement, before turning his attention to you.

“(y-y/n)! i thought you were coming to check on our sector in t-two days! i’m so sorry you have to see my team like this i swear it was an accident-” the poor pink bot stammered, much to darkwing’s amusement and to your confusion.

“what accident? the cave collapsing? that’s normal, elita-1. don’t worry about it. you’re telling me it was a complete accident so i will take your word for it.” hearing those words coming from you made elita feel like she was just told that sentinel finally found the matrix of leadership.

“oh, thank you, thank you,,,” orion and d-16 watched as elita continuously thanked her superior, chuckling. 

“well, that means we don’t get our butts kicked too, thank primus (y/n) was here.” the red and blue miner said, walking away from the scene with his pal.

“yea and now we can just finish this shift and relax-”

“d-16?” the two stopped in their tracks, slowly turning around in an almost comical way to face the much taller femme. 

orion’s servos trembled. he felt embarrassed, he was over here making a fool of himself with how obvious his crush on you was. literally everyone who steps foot in the mines knew about it, aside from, clearly, you. heck, even darkwing seemed to know, considering that despite his optics not being visible, he clearly was glaring at the cog-less bot whenever he tried speaking to you during past visits.

or maybe it was just his usual routine of hating cogless bots.

d-16, however, gulped and let out the tiniest of “yes?”. ohhh boy, what now?? did you assume that the cave collapsing was his doing?? did darkwing tell you that-

“you’re at the top of your ranks here, correct?” his train of thought was interrupted by your soft voice, watching as you knelt down to his height, placing a hand on his shoulder, which shocked him a bit. orion stared at the polished hand on his best friend’s rusted shoulder with envy, his optics narrowing just a smidge.

“i already spoke to elita about this, but i also want you to hear it. i’ve heard some great things about you, and how you excel amongst your ranks. so i just wanted you to hear this.” d-16 felt frozen.

‘what is this,,, feeling? my face is burning,,’ oh indeed it was. his face flushed in a deep blue as he anxiously waited for your next words. just your soothing voice got him like this and he simply couldn’t understand why.

“,,, i need you.”

,,,

WHAT???

the first to react was darkwing, who let out a very outraged grunt of confusion, as if you just cheated on him with a MINER of all bots in his face, followed by elita, the other miners and orion gasping, everyone turning their heads towards the two.

“,,,w-what?” the gray miner’s voice box barely even processed his astonished question. he felt as if his circuits were frying up by how hot he felt. 

orion’s expression showed bewilderment and a hint of betrayal. this,,, wasn’t fair?? well- he knew it wasn’t d-16 who said that to you, but he still couldn’t help but feel jealous.

he wished it could have been him.

but then finally, you realized what you just said and removed your hand from the shorter bot’s shoulder, standing up straight and bumping into darkwing’s chest armor. “oh- p-please excuse me. i- uh, i chose my words wrong.” 

the onlookers decided to stop eavesdropping, realizing it was a simple mistake on your part. that made orion sigh in relief, which didn’t go unnoticed by d-16. but his attention was quickly brought back to you.

“my apologies, i- i would never say such things- not during work hours, i’m sorry- what i meant to say, i need you- as in i need you to help keep up the good work to motivate the other miners to do the same. it helps your ranks as it helps mine if we all put our parts to make a difference. s-so, yea.” you looked around, avoiding eye contact, a small blush remaining on your face. both miners nearly swooned at such a cute expression on your face.

“i just needed to do an early check up according to sentinel, that’s all. thought i’d try and give some pep talk and you can see i have to work on that,,” you giggled before clearing your throat and staring down at the mesmerized bots.

,,,

“goodbye.” and with that being said, you quickly marched back to the main exit with a very, VERY jealous darkwing in tow. 

orion turned his gaze to his best friend, who watched you depart with a dreamy look on his face. the red and blue bot sighed and gently shook his shoulder.

“d?,,,” oh he knew. 

he recognized that stare. the same stare he gave when he saw anything megatronus prime related, that same glimmer in his optics. it was that same spark that orion had when he first saw you.

oh primus.

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🩷send me a burger !! : ko-fi💗 🩷visit my other socials !! : socials list💗 🩷writing requests rules !! : info list💗

[emmiesoverthemoon]

that recent clip of jiyong in the suit THE ONE U REPOSTED HERE saying “great heavens” ngh it got me thinking

if u want to can u write a story for jealous kinda possessive in his gdragon personality yk, and in the end its like all fluffy and stuff and then boom jiyong comes out YOU KNOW im sorry if that was hard to understand 😞

oh u read my mind i thought the SAME THING WHEN I SAW THE CLIP… great minds think alike

۶ৎ switch up

Pairing: g-dragon / kwon jiyong x reader

Word Count: 2,842

Summary: A playful act of teasing while behind the scenes of filming the 'Too Bad' music video spirals into a night of fervent passion, only to be soothed by the quiet intimacy of love—where whispered reassurances mean more than any game ever could.

Tags: too bad mv, teasing, flirting, implied sexual content, jealousy, slight hurt/comfort

cross posted on ao3 here

The studio hummed with life, a symphony of movement and sound, a feverish pulse of artistry in motion. The overhead lights blazed, casting long shadows, illuminating the polished floor where bodies twisted and turned in a carefully orchestrated dance. The bass trembled through your bones, the rhythm a second heartbeat, but none of it—none of it—commanded your attention like he does.

Kwon Jiyong, magnetic, effortless, devastatingly precise. Every movement of his was calculated yet unconstrained, a masterful paradox in silk and shadow. But it was not the choreography or his voice that was the captor of your breath, nor the music that sets your skin alight. It was him. It was the way the grey outfit molded yet also hung loosely to his frame, the sharp elegance yet casual oversized fit of it, the thick red fabric draped over the long column of his throat, a single knot of silk conducting promises of things it has no business promising. And the tie—God, the tie.

Your thoughts spiralled into places they should not go, especially in the workplace. Heat coiled in your stomach, restless, insatiable. You wanted him–needed him, all of him, and preferably still adorned in at least some of that infernal costume.

The director called it a cut, the electricity of the scene dissolving alongside their call. Jiyong murmured something to the nearby crew, his expression composed, but you knew him. You knew the subtle satisfaction in the set of his mouth, the sharp glint of artistic fulfillment in his gaze. He moved toward his dressing room, fingers already loosening the pristine knot at his throat, loosening his collar as a result. Your eyes formed a glint also, but not for the same reason–an opportunity had arisen.

You followed behind him, your footsteps light, measured, inconspicuous in the sea of movement. When you reached his door, you drummed your knuckles against the wood, your voice slipping into honey, playful and teasing.

"It’s me! Hello!!"

A soft, deep chuckle could be heard from inside the door, then, “Come in.”

The door clicks shut behind you, sealing the two of you away from the outside world. He stands with his back to you, already peeling off the first buttons of his shirt, revealing a sliver of bare skin. And there—just above the sharp curve of his shoulder blade—the wings of his angelic neck tattoo emerged from beneath the fabric, ink-dark against pale skin. 

Your breath stuttered in your throat. It was beautiful. It was him. And you want it.

Jiyong spoke, something about the scenes you had just participated in, about the next costume change, but his words were a distant murmur, drowned beneath the rush of your own pulse. You hastily crossed the space between you, slipping your arms around his waist, pressing yourself against the warmth of his back, your forehead coming to rest between his shoulder blades. You inhaled, slow, deep, drinking him in—the faint spice of cologne, the lingering salt of sweat, the familiar scent of him beneath it all, intoxicating in its entirety.

He laughed, gentle and low, the vibration of it thrumming against your cheek. “Clingy today, aren’t we?”

Your answer was wordless. You tilted your head, lips grazing the nape of his neck in the lightest whisper of contact. A shiver rippled through him, almost imperceptible, but you felt it. Feeling encouraged, you continued—delicate kisses trailing upward, then downward, a slow, deliberate exploration. When you reached the ink of his tattoo, something inside of you shifted. Your lips lingered a little longer, the kisses deeper, more reverent, more possessive.

His exhale stuttered embarrassingly. “Baby—”

His hands, which had hung useless at his sides, now found yours, gripping them where they pressed against his stomach. His fingers tightened as you continued your exploration, mouth pressing lustful heat into his skin, your breath a warm ghost of promises. You could feel his pulse quicken beneath your lips, and the muscles of his abdomen tensing beneath your palms. Just as the moment thickened further, just as his grip on your hands turned desperate about to drag them downward toward his belt—

You pulled away. Completely.

He stilled. Slowly, he turned, pupils blown wide, expression unreadable save for the unmistakable heat simmering beneath the surface.

“That,” he murmured, panting, his voice husked with something dark and wanting, “was not fair.”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. The thrill of playing with him was too exciting. “Oh? Is that someone calling me I hear? Gotta fly!”

A muscle feathered in Jiyong’s jaw. His fingers twitched at his sides. “If you leave me like this,” he warned, “you won’t like it later.”

You form a smile so syrupy sweet and entirely unrepentant, almost knowing–wanting whatever his implication was. “Try me. See ya!”

The door closed quickly, you were gone as slyly as you had slipped in, slipping through the exit before he could touch you, before he could ensnare you in whatever delicious retribution he’s concocting.

The next scene of the music video did not require you, so you lingered at the sidelines, engaged in casual conversation with one of the male backup dancers. You could barely register the words exchanged; your mind was elsewhere, thrumming with ideas of the aftermath of your own reckless provocation, what Jiyong could possibly have in store for you. But you felt it. That weight. That heat. 

Jiyong was watching you intensely. Between takes, in the in-between moments where no one else seemed to notice, his gaze burned into you, unwavering, silent. No one paid mind to it—how? How did no one see the way he was plotting? The way his fingers curled, the way his jaw tensed, the barely leashed possession tightening his frame like a bowstring drawn taut?

Your lips curled into a smirk, you wanted to push him further. You let out a laugh, just a fraction too bright. A smile, just a smidge too wide. Subtle, but devastating in effect. You could feel the restraint in him thinning, fraying at the edges.

When the recording of the scene concluded the moment the director called it a wrap, Jiyong crossed the space in an instant, sliding into your conversation effortlessly. “Hey, what’s up?” His voice outwardly is casual, composed, but beneath it, there is something else. Something risqué.

The dancer replied excitingly, oblivious to what was brewing within him, but you know. This was no longer just Jiyong standing before you. This was G-Dragon—calculated and possessive, a predator disguising his hunger for his prey beneath a smooth smile.

He manufactured an excuse for the dancer to leave you both alone—something professional, something convincing—and the dancer nodded, bidding you farewell. When he turned away, Jiyong’s expression held no difference, but his eyes—his eyes—seared into you with quiet, lethal intent.

That look. That look he gave you could pin you to the wall.

You were in for it.

The director had called your name amongst several others as the few that were permitted to leave whenever, as the filming of your portion in the music video had come to a close. You could already feel the anticipation coiling in your stomach when you pressed a chaste kiss to Jiyong’s lips in farewell. But just as you were about to pull away, you felt him grasp the back of your neck, his grip somehow simultaneously rough and gentle, and his voice dropped an octave, brushing seductively against the shell of your ear.

“If I see you in ant items of clothing when I get home,” he purred, “it will be ripped apart. I’ll buy replacements.”

Your breath faltered. A slow, ever so consuming heat licked up your spine. 

You were utterly speechless, nodding mildly as he released you. His voice returned to normal, saccharine and adoring, “See you when I get home!”

The wait for Jiyong to be released from filming was antagonising. To look at him, anyone would be none the wiser, but you and your incessant teasing in that dressing room would not budge from his mind, he wanted to get home to you now. By the time he had finally gotten the green light to exit from the set, he was gone in an instant, the sleek hum of his car tearing through the night while probably exceeding the speed limit, each second stretching unbearably.

When he arrived home the air inside was thick with steam, curling from beneath the bathroom door in lazy tendrils, the scent of your body wash saturating the air—warm, floral, excruciatingly familiar. It clung to the walls, his skin, to the very oxygen he breathed, and to him, it was a siren’s call.

His body had moved before his mind could even form a thought, like a hunter drawn to the scent of his prey. The door creaked as he pushed it open, the sound nearly swallowed by the hiss of cascading water. The mist parted just enough to reveal the blurred outline of your form behind the glass, glistening with rivulets of heat, every curve softened by the fog.

You heard no sign of his entry at first. You were enraptured and enveloped by the sanctuary of warmth, head tipped back, water cascading down the arch of your throat, tracing the valleys and peaks of your body in a way that sparked something deeply, primally possessive within him.

The fabric of his shirt slid from his shoulders, pooling forgotten at his feet. His belt clinked as it unfastened, an abandoned artifact of his haste. By the time the glass door swung open, he was already reaching his hands, strong, deliberate, searing against the contrast of your wet skin.

A gasp, barely formed, cut off as he pulled you to him, as the heat of his body collided with yours, as his fingers splay against your back, branding you with the urgency of his need.

"Jiyong—"

But the sound of his name was swallowed between you, lost in the way his lips find the curve of your shoulder, in the way his breath scorches against damp skin. The water does little to cool the fever beneath his touch. If anything, it made the heat worse—the slickness, the slip of skin against skin, the sheer, devastating intimacy of it.

His hands tightened on the backside of your thighs and lifted with no sign of struggle. The world tilted, and suddenly, you were weightless, legs wrapped instinctively around his waist. A strangled laugh escaped you, breathless, unsteady.

"You’re insane," you whispered, but your arms were already winding around his neck, fingers threading through wet strands of hair, clinging like you never intended to let go.

A low hum vibrated against your throat, the sound edging on something dangerous, something darkly amused. "You think this is insane?" he responded, lips ghosting over your pulse, the warmth of his breath sending shivers cascading down your spine.

Unexpectedly, with agonizing precision, he unwound the tie from the costume that had lured you in the first place from around his wrist—you had not even realized that he had brought it home with him. Silky cotton glided over your skin, a whisper of constraint, looping around your wrists before you can react. His grip tightened, the smooth fabric cinching just enough to send fire licking down to your core.

Let’s just say, revenge was sweet.

After the storm had passed, Jiyong was back to Jiyong—softer, reverent, loving. The fire that once raged in his eyes has dimmed to embers, but those embers glow just as fiercely, tempered by something deeper, something achingly tender.

It was safe to say you were full of hazy bliss–you had barely registered the way he carried you from the shared bathroom, you barely felt the press of the towel he wrapped it around your shoulders and down your body to dry you from any remnants of water. His hands were careful, patient, you were something porcelain, delicate, something to be cherished. 

He tucked you against his chest, murmuring endearments, fingers carding through your damp hair. “Are you okay?” his voice was a soothing balm as he kissed your forehead.

You nodded still dazed and fading in and out of sleep. He pressed a kiss there once more. “Good.”

Jiyong smiled, padding off to make you something warm. When he returned, he settled you onto the lounge, pressing a mug into your hands before curling up beside you and turning on a show the both of you were currently binging.

Sensing a shift in atmosphere, both of the cats moved with feline intuition, their small bodies unfurling from the corners of the couch to slink into your laps. Their weight settled cozily against you, their purring was a steady, grounding, and rhythmic hum—like the soft, pulsing undercurrent of a lullaby. One nuzzled against Jiyong’s arm, its whiskers brushed against his black sleeve, but he held no reaction, odd. The other circled your legs, kneading tiny paws into the fabric of the blanket, but your focus was elsewhere.

Something was wrong.

You felt it before you saw it. In the way his chest rose and fell—just slightly uneven, the rhythm betraying the stillness of the moment. In the way his fingers traced the rim of his cup without taking a sip. In the way his gaze lingered—not on the screen, not on the cats, not on his drink, but on you. Then, just as quickly, it flickered away.

It was so subtle, so infinitesimal a shift, but you knew him. You knew him in the marrow of your bones, in the blood that rushed hot beneath your skin.

"Ji?" 

His name was a quiet call, spoken into the hush between the chatter of the television and the purring against your lap. It drifted toward him, catching on the edges of his hesitance, but he remained silent.

Your brows knitted together. Without breaking your gaze, you shifted closer, the blanket rustling as you pressed a hand to his chest—right over his heart. The beat was there, steady, but something about it felt caged. As if his body contained a rumbling too soft to break the surface, but strong enough to shake the foundation beneath.

"Are you okay, baby?"

Another pause. Then, his voice—low, hesitant. “Yeah.”

You absolutely did not believe him.

Your lips pressed together, your fingers spreading slightly over the fabric of his shirt, feeling the quiet thrum of him beneath. “Kwon Jiyong,” you scolded, holding no anger, just certainty, “please don’t lie to me.”

A slow exhale was released. A surrender.

“It’s stupid.”

You tilted your head, unwavering. “Tell me?”

A moment passed—a battle behind his eyes, a flicker of resistance, then resignation. His throat worked around the words, and when they finally came, they were softer than you expected.

“You don’t like that guy, right?”

You blinked, confused. The weight of the question was heavier than it was phrased, settling into the space between you like a stone that was dropped into a still pond.

“What guy do you mean?”

“The dancer. While I was still filming.”

For a moment, you do not speak. Your heart twisted—not in shock, not in indignation, but in something achingly tender, something fragile and utterly human. Because this was him. G-Dragon, global phenomenon, artistic genius, the man adored by millions—yet here he sat, Kwon Jiyong in his rawest, purest form, allowing something as fleeting as a passing conversation to plant a seed of doubt in his mind.

You shifted again, this time cupping his face between your hands, guiding him to you. The edges of his cheekbones fitted perfectly beneath your caring thumbs, the warmth of his skin seeping into your palms. He made no move to pull away. If anything, he leant into your touch, lashes lowering just slightly, as if bracing for impact.

“Ji,” you whispered, voice thick with care and assurance, “I am yours.” Your thumbs trace slow shapes over his skin, anchoring him to your voice. “No one else. No one could ever be as perfect for me as you are. As if I would ever let them try.”

His lips parted slightly, but no words came. Instead, his eyes searched yours, as if sifting through the syllables for any fracture, any hesitation. He found not a single one.

And then a breath, a shift. Something in him released, like the quiet collapse of tension, like a knot unspooling. His lips curved—small, a little sheepish, but real. “I love you.”

Soft kisses followed—affectionate, passionate, sweet. He pressed them over your cheeks, your nose, your lips, your hands, like he was pouring every single ounce of love he could possibly hold in his soul for you into each one. When the night ended, neither of you had made it to your bedroom, instead you drifted to a deep slumber still intertwined on that lounge, the warmth of your love wrapping you both in something safer than any blanket ever could.

thanks for reading!! :)

taglist: @petersasteria @floofeh-purpi

[kolbalissh]

Hi, i gotta get this out here as soon as i can so here goes

so apparently someone didnt like my art (specifically the recent alecca drawing which as of now ive privated) and went off to some third grade f1 gossip cesspool instagram page and dropped my drawing down there and theyre basically publicly shaming my blog and my art specifically the rpf content

which is why im making this post as a refresher on what rpf actually is - real people fiction - key word FICTION

please for the love of god, understand that with any fandom space comes creation and that it comes in multiple forms of art writing music and so forth, and rpf has been a subculture of this specific f1 fandom for a LONG ASS TIME the most dated first f1 rpf fic goes back to literally mika/michael on ao3 in like 2002

us making this sort of content doesnt MEAN that we actually think of these drivers in this light, because that is the line that NONE of us should cross

how is it any different if one ships a driver with a model or a influencer, than us shipping them with another driver? in both cases it is still the 'real people' clause so why is one okay and the other 'vile and disgusting' (quoted exactly from the story they posted abt my art btw)

some part of me knows its not that deep, because it really isnt we all just want to support our favourite teams and drivers and have fun in this fandom space together and follow basic fandom etiquette, if you dont like, then dont interact, something i myself have been doing ever since i started liking formula 1

but another part of me knows that i shouldnt be getting shit online for stuff that i make for my small community of people, where we genuinely mean no harm and if it bothers you, then thats a personal issue of yours

rpf has been a long running subculture for decades now, it has certain moral boundaries that we all follow here and none of us cross it so its really disheartening to see that the stuff i made being plastered across on ig as dehumanising and fetishising, because the intention behind my art is nothing but of support and joy

and lastly i just wanna say, that if ur an active tumblr user and if my (in my opinion, very lowkey art compared to regular tumblr content) is getting you this worked up then u should consider changing social medias lmao

[maglor-my-beloved]

They made you a monster, but I've made my choice

Characters: Antar (OC), Maeglin

Warnings: Major Character Death

Tags: Fall of Gondolin, Hurt No Comfort, Canonical Character Death

At the foot of Caragdûr, Antar dies.

Antar cannot bring themselves to regret their choice. Even here, at the foot of Caragdûr, their life waning with each breath, Elven blood staining their hands once more and their Lord lying cold and pale beside them, they do not regret following him.

Maeglin looks so small in death – frail, almost childlike. Like the lost, orphaned child Antar had pledged to protect.

With trembling, useless hands they wipe the blood and dirt from his face, close his eyes, arrange his limbs as though he is sleeping. His face is more at peace than they have seen it in many months.

They know he was not evil. They would not care if he were. He was their charge, their friend, their Lord.

All they regret is that they were not close enough to save him.

All they regret is that they had not refused more vehemently when Maeglin had insisted they wear his galvorn armor to the fight.

Perhaps if they had, he would not be dead now.

But even galvorn could not save them. Antar feels their grasp on life falter, and they press one last kiss to Maeglin’s cold forehead and curl protectively around their Lord as they die.

Antar belongs to @nelyoslegalteam, thank you for letting me write about them and sorry!

[hivemuthur]

To Be Known - Ch.4.

viktorxfemale!reader explicit! (and I can't stress this enough, kids shoo!) Modern AU, set in London, current era but not very specific. It's just a love story.

<- previous chapter MASTERLIST next chapter ->

word count: 6,8K

warnings, or rather this chapter contains: mentions of injections (!) but nothing scary (just routine stuff), domspace, slight subspace, awkward sex talk, throat fucking, masturbation, some d/s etiquette (stoplight system), slight dacryphilia

author’s note: playlist here, @rennethen my beta, massive thank you and artist is @petitesieste ♡ + translations from Czech at the bottom!

Cross-posted on AO3

—

As the door shuts behind you, Viktor both regrets that the kiss wasn’t heated at all and is relieved that you are now gone, leaving him with no need to pretend his leg isn’t suffering the repercussions of last night.

He tightens the brace and retreats to the bedroom to swap the cane for a crutch—it’s going to be one of those days. It’s also going to be a day in which he cannot drive, so soon, he will follow your lead and get himself a cab to carry him from Islington to King’s Cross.

In the mirror, he can see his lips, kissed pinker than usual, his eyes still heavy with sleep, his neck marked in one spot that he hopes will be snugly obscured by his collar. Sharp angles are softened by bliss and warm slumber, subtle, barely noticeable. He can feel his dick faintly sore, his hip aching more than he expected, and he knows instantly—he is elbow-deep in something that will be incredibly hard to keep casual.

Because, impediments aside, his chest is pleasantly swollen with joy—purer than its source would suggest. Recharged, happy even, he does little to obscure the souvenirs of last night. A part of him wants Jayce to ask questions. And even though he won’t be able to tell the truth, he will be able to smile about it.

Someone aware and vacant but not yet shaped appearing at his feet, folded neatly, clean and crisp—that does not happen. Before, it was fleeting. Singulars or doubles with the better specimens, all of them inevitably saying, My ex used to. Interwoven between the plain and the regular when there was nothing else. Never had it left him so full, so calm. Never had it left him simultaneously restless, waiting for the next time. Never in such utter denial that this could be both the first time and the last. Never so hopeful for the endless next times.

Viktor changes into something warmer—August is already autumn here, rain on and off, the air thick with dampness. He wears a coat and scarf, an umbrella hooked over his bag, and the damn crutch keeps him upright as he waits for the cab.

Uncharacteristically for London, he arrives within a blink. Francis Crick greets him with its warehouse-like vastness, people bumping his shoulder and apologising as they move past. Jayce is already inside when Viktor steps into the lab, making coffee, his own neck carrying the marks of last night spent with Mel. Just like Viktor, he has done nothing to hide them.

“Got home safe?” Jayce asks, though the proof is right in front of him—breathing and walking wonkily.

“I was attacked multiple times on the short distance between the driveway and my building,” Viktor replies flatly, swapping his coat for a lab rendition of one. “But I managed to fight them all off.” He gestures toward Jayce’s neck with a smirk. “I see you fought someone too, hmm?”

“Oh.” Jayce’s hand snaps to his throat. “Yeah. Mel, she… she got really drunk,” he admits with a sheepish smile. “But I think she had fun.”

“I bet she had,” Viktor remarks dryly, rolling his eyes as he reaches for a mug, coffee waiting for him.

Jayce groans. “Alright, get off my back. What about you?”

Viktor glances at him, feigning innocence. “What about me?”

Jayce smirks, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. “Did you have fun?”

“Absolutely,” Viktor replies smoothly, taking another sip.

“I bet you did.”

“Meaning?” Viktor raises a brow, though he already knows where this is going.

Jayce gestures vaguely at Viktor’s collar. “You call me out all you want, but I have eyes too, you know. Just… please don’t tell me it was with—”

“I got it before yesterday,” Viktor lies smoothly, cutting him off before he can finish that sentence.

Jayce squints at him, suspicion creeping into his expression. “I can’t remember you coming in with a hickey yesterday, Viktor.”

Viktor shrugs, nonchalant. “It’s not my fault your perception was stunted by nerves, Jayce,” he replies, tone clipped. Then, with a smirk, he adds, “Should I keep you informed at all times when I get laid?”

Jayce grins. “I wouldn’t mind.” Then, after a beat, he studies Viktor more carefully. “Something, uh… serious?”

“Ah, no, not at all,” Viktor lies again, answer coming too quickly. Jayce’s frown deepens, knowing. Before he can press further, Viktor nudges the conversation elsewhere, chin gesturing toward the stack of papers before them. “What are we dealing with today?”

Jayce sighs, rubbing his forehead. “Uh, you’re not gonna like it, man,” he warns, flipping through a few pages. “They keep pushing to change the direction.”

Viktor exhales sharply. “Any new ones, or are we still on turning people back to teenagers?”

“I’m afraid we’re still on that.” Jayce grimaces, tapping the folder.

“Ah, I see it’s imperative that the rich stay perpetually young instead of the sick getting aid,” Viktor mutters, voice laced with dry disdain. “Why am I not surprised.”

Jayce leans against the table, arms crossed. “Look, if we do something fast and present results that prove it impossible, maybe they will give it a rest.”

“Jayce, it’s such a waste of time.” Viktor shakes his head, adjusting his stance against the workbench. “Cancer won’t halt to wait for us finding a cure for old age.” He gestures sharply. “But we can find the cure for it. What’s more important?”

“Well, obviously cancer treatment,” Jayce concedes, pushing a hand through his hair. “But we will do nothing without funds.”

Viktor’s gaze sharpens. “Did Mel threaten that she will retreat if we don’t do this?”

Jayce shakes his head. “No, of course not,” he says quickly—then hesitates. “Her mother did, though.”

“Zatraceně,” Viktor mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. Usually, the exchange would go on until it breaks into a bickering fight that dies off because Jayce just can’t stand conflicts. Today though, Viktor manages to play it all out it his head before it happens and settles for a solution that they would arrive at anyway, just after a week. With a sigh, he says, “Fine. What’s your angle?”

Jayce blinks. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.” Viktor shrugs. “If we can’t convince them, it’s more time wasted.”

Jayce exhales and gathers the documents, flipping to a few key pages. “Okay, uh… I collected everything we did in the past that failed. And here is what we’ve been doing since the beginning of the year,” he explains, dragging a finger down a chart. “So I say… a month? Maybe two, two months of tests on mice, and we can probably call it a fail for, let’s say, another year.”

Viktor frowns, considering. “Any way of just… putting it down. For good?”

Jayce scoffs, shaking his head. “Finding a different investor,” he says, defeated.

“Why don’t we?” Viktor asks, tilting his head. Truly, why don’t they? Ockham’s razor, if the method doesn’t work change the method, all those wisdoms suddenly clear as day and instead of getting angry Viktor is as calm as stagnant water.

Jayce huffs a laugh. “Ah… wait. Are you serious?”

“Deadly.”

“Viktor, but Mel—”

“What? Will break up with you?” Viktor cuts in smoothly.

Jayce frowns. “No. At least I hope not.”

“So?” Viktor challenges, raising a brow.

Jayce exhales, reluctant. “It will take time.”

“So will this,” Viktor counters easily. “If we both look in our free time, maybe we will find someone.”

“We don’t have free time, Viktor,” Jayce groans.

“Eh, don’t be so dramatic, Jayce,” Viktor smirks, leaning on his crutch. “I’m sure someone would be thrilled to have a cancer cure on their hands.”

Jayce considers, rubbing his jaw. “I mean… it’s possible. I guess I can ask Mel if she knows anyone.”

“There you go.” Viktor nods, satisfied.

Jayce narrows his eyes. “What the hell is with you today?”

“In what sense?” Viktor mutters in mock oblivion, his head dips between his shoulders as he is sipping his coffee.

“Why are you so fucking happy?”

Viktor smirks behind the rim of his mug. “I told you. I had fun last night,” he says, and it’s the truth this time.

Jayce rolls his eyes. “Aha, alright then. I will know, sooner or later.” He eyes Viktor’s stance. “How’s your leg?”

Viktor shrugs. “Been better. Nothing too bad, though.” He pick up the folder and turns on his chair. “Alright, I’ll go through it, you prep the lab?” Jayce only nods, still eyeing the crutch.

By lunchtime, Viktor has compiled about a thousand reasons why reversing aging is not only unethical but also impossible.

The telomere theory had long been paraded as the key to immortality—until it wasn’t. Scientists once believed that aging resulted primarily from the shortening of telomeres, the protective caps at the ends of chromosomes. Each time a cell divides, these caps erode, until eventually, the cell can no longer replicate properly. If telomere degradation could be stopped—or reversed—then so, theoretically, could aging itself.

But the reality is far more complex.

Extending telomeres doesn’t simply restore youth; it encourages uncontrolled cell growth—cancer. The body has natural safeguards for a reason, and bypassing them has proven disastrous. Tumours thrive on unchecked replication, turning what is meant to be a fountain of youth into a biological death sentence.

Which is why Viktor and Jayce are attempting to achieve the exact opposite. He taps his pen against the desk, scanning the reports before him. Even if the theory had held more promise, it was still a question of priority. But they have survived and braced through so much bullshit in the past that Viktor manages to settle into something resembling certainty—that whatever this outdated spurt is attempting, it will pass. And with its passage will come the freedom to pursue a goal far more important than a face free of wrinkles.

The rest of his day rolls between countless coffees, snacks that Jayce insists on bringing and, of course, work. By the time the sun sets his thoughts have drifted to you only three times, and only because he’s caught the glimpse of your lips imprinted on his neck each time he goes to the bathroom.

Until Jayce leaves and, inevitably, Viktor is left alone with his thoughts. And with his hands, which suddenly have nothing better to do than reach for his phone. He finds your number there, hastily exchanged right before you left for work. So he sends the text.

Normally, Viktor would put his phone away and check it again when the occasion arises, but now he gapes at it stupidly, waiting. Expecting.

Ignition is instant as three dots begin to jump by your initials, and Viktor hunches over as if that would make you type faster.

I have a thing in the evening, but I should be free at 10, if that’s not too late for you :)

Perfect, he replies—too fast to be dignified, but he cares not.

By the time 10 p.m. Saturday arrives, he is fucking giddy and nearly slaps himself when the buzzer goes off. When he waits for you at the door, crutch already exchanged, cane hanging on the coat rack, he smirks at the sight of you rolling out of the elevator in flat shoes, high heels dangling from your hand.

"Did you walk here?" he asks instead of hello, leaning against the doorframe.

You parrot him, pulling a face that attempts to distort his expression, mocking his tone. "No, genius," you say as you step through the door, tossing your shoes to the floor. "They won’t fit in my bag."

One brat point, Viktor thinks.

The second pair—the ones you’re wearing—you kick off, and as you do, Viktor asks, "How was your thing?"

"Do you really want to know?" you reply, turning—only to be met with him, lurking very, very close.

He smells good. Cheeks red. Shaking his head as he moves toward you, hands slipping under your skirt, sliding past your underwear as promised. Gliding over the round of your ass, lower, between your legs. Viktor can’t decide if this would be more fun with thighs or just as it is.

Your back meets the wall, your mouth meets his, your pussy meets his fingers in a small gathering of breaths and gasps. “Did you miss me?” you tease through exhales he allows, feeling the grin blooming against your lips.

“Are you going to be insufferable?” he hums. There is no answer to this—only a startled moan as two fingers plunge inside you. Viktor purrs, so, so pleased. “Oh, but you’ve missed me too, didn’t you?”

For you are dripping, the needy thing between your hips such a traitor.

You nod, defeated, twisting your fingers into his hair, nipping at his lip, kissing him deeply—tongue out, breathing him in as if you had been gone for a month. He tastes better when you’re sober. He tastes so much better. Feels so much better. His chest flush against yours, one hand on your neck, his forearm squeezed between your buttocks as he fingers you lazily. Your ass sticks out to meet his palm, to take more, to take him deeper.

“Greedy,” Viktor smirks as he pulls his mouth away from yours, a string of wet connecting your lips. You follow the trail, but he retreats further, shaking his head.

“We need to talk first,” he says, still playing inside you as if it’s nothing.

“You said too,” you breathe, ignoring him, pressing yourself into his neck, licking where the ghost of your mark still lingers. “So you have missed me.”

“Brat,” Viktor chuckles, but truth be told, he is utterly smitten. Defeated, too—right there with you, where your entire body begs for him. And you have no idea you’re already on three brat points, nor that he cannot fucking wait to cash them in.

But just to give you something, anything, he plucks your hand off his shoulder and places it on his crotch, whispering, “I have.”

You smile at him so sweetly Viktor would drop to his knees and eat you out if his hip weren’t still slightly busted. So, reluctantly, he pulls his fingers out of you, licks them clean in front of your very eyes—obscenely slow—then kisses you for good measure. Already wanton, you mess the shirt out of his trousers, fingers tugging impatiently, and he tsks, reprimanding,

“I meant it when I said I want to talk.”

“Fine,” you pout, fixing your skirt back in place with an air of put-upon suffering.

“Brat,” Viktor says again, but there’s a smile in it. Then, he reaches behind you, grabs his cane from the coat rack, and walks past you unceremoniously. He stops in the middle of the hallway, glancing over his shoulder with a raised brow.

“Well? Are you coming?”

“I could answer that in so many ways, you know,” you reply, exasperated, but you still drag your bare feet across the floor, slinging your bag back over your shoulder.

Viktor’s smile lingers as he sees it. The sight makes him feel oddly warm—because you’ve brought clothes to change into this time.

And he is so unhurried, it drives you insane. Maddening, the way he just makes tea, pours milk into yours without asking, and then sits across from you at the kitchen table as you resume your negotiations. He leans back in his chair, fingers curled loosely around his cup, staring at you as if weighing how to begin.

The silence is unbearable. “Are you always so responsible?” you blurt, unable to sit still, let alone wait patiently. You crack your toes against the floor, pressing them down in a distorted caricature of pointe.

“I like to know where I’m at,” Viktor says, stern but measured, blinking slowly. Then, without preamble, “So. From the start. Protection?”

You blink. “Oh. Straight in?”

A beat, and when Viktor does absolutely nothing to ease your discomfort, you release a breathy chuckle. “Okay, um… I have a patch anyway, and—” You hesitate, shifting in your chair. “Please don’t think I’m a freak, but…” You reach into your bag and pull out your phone. Tugging a strand of hair behind your ear, you fiddle on the screen before placing it in front of him. “I donated blood last month at a charity event, and these are my results.”

His brow quirks.

“So, you can lose the rubber,” you mutter, swallowing. “If you want.”

Viktor says nothing at first, just studies you with that unreadable expression of his. Then, with the same ease as before, he reaches into his pocket, pulls out his phone, and places it in front of you. The screen is already unlocked, a document open.

“What do you want?” he asks, voice low. “I test regularly. Everything’s negative.”

That catches you by surprise, though you school your face quickly, forcing yourself not to dwell too much on whatever embers of unjustified jealousy try to crack open beneath your feet. Lip caught between your teeth, you glance down—not to check if he’s telling the truth, but to give yourself an extra second to think.

Then, quietly, heat creeping up your ears, you murmur, “No condom then.”

It’s Viktor’s turn to swallow something down. His gaze darkens, as images of what he can do with this newest ruling flash through his mind. His fingers tap once against the side of his cup before he hums, satisfied. “Good.”

His voice is so casual, so certain, it’s infuriating.

“Next… safe word?” Viktor asks. You cringe, a small, involuntary wince that does not go unnoticed. He tilts his head, expression softening, and before you can even muster the courage to tell him you haven’t got the faintest idea, he steps in. “Okay,” he says, tone even, patient. “Are you familiar with the stoplight system?”

“Yes,” you say, relieved at the reprieve.

“Is that better?”

“Yes, I can do that,” you nod, fingers curling into your lap.

“Alright.” Voice still matter-of-fact, eyes stay on you, gauging, reading. “And if you can’t speak, it’s two taps for slow down, and three for stop. Is that okay?”

“Yes.” You barely recognise your own voice. It’s breathless, eager, and a little too quick to comply.

Because God, this is so hot.

Dark blood stumbles slowly through your veins, brain slipping into focus, breaths deepen and all you can hear is his voice. All you can see is his sunken-cheeked face—a map of spectacular junctions you linger on—pools of his eyes, yes, dark, yes, wanting, but above all—kind. Above all, awakened and eager when he reads the answers before you even open your mouth.

Then, his nose, again, the hill of it, the way it slithers into his cheeks. Lower, the crown of his lip, a bud made to be sucked on. It moves when he says, “Brilliant.” The word rolls out, thick and heavy, makes the muscles of his jaw flex underneath the skin and to save yourself from second degree burn on your face, you retreat to the trick of nose staring. Nearly fails you again, when he scratches it and instead of it your mind drifts to where those fingers have been just moments ago.

He leans forward, hand crawling toward you, and you place your palms flat on the table. Not yet touching, but the promise is there.

“Anything you won’t do? Hard limits?” he asks evenly, arrogant smirk impossible to hide. “It can be all sorts of things, even the basics. Like cocksucking.”

At this point it’s inching toward cruel, a praying mantis foreplay, but you suspect you are the one about to end up a meal on his plate. With a deep breath, you manage, “I’m not opposed to it,” your voice steadier than you feel.

Viktor exhales through his nose, something caught between a hum and a chuckle. “That makes me very happy.”

“I bet it does,” you mumble before you can stop yourself, pulse thundering everywhere—in your chest, wrists, pounding between your ears and legs.

The smug smile he gives you in return is positively wicked. Four points.

“So… anything?” He watches you carefully, head tilting. Then, as if making a decision, he leans back in his chair, stretching his legs out beneath the table, his feet touch yours. “I’ll tell you what,” he continues. “If anything comes up, tell me. Even if randomly. Can you do that?”

“Yes.” A beat. “And you?” you ask, voice quieter.

A complete change. Viktor feels his chest flooding with warmth, eyes widen when he reaches out for your palms and cradles them in his. “Yes. I will make sure to tell you.” His gaze holds yours, unwavering.

It’s merely a glimpse of something. Then, his expression falls back into the sardonic kind, and after a pause, he asks, “How uncomfortable does this make you feel?”

You shift in your seat, squeezing his palms. “Very.”

His lips curl. “Good.” He tilts his chin, eyes lazily dropping down your frame. “Are you wet?” he asks, so casually it stirs the bottom of your stomach into a tight cramp and your thighs clench.

“Show me,” Viktor says, and you are already standing up, already moving without thought, drawn in by the quiet command.

By the time you reach the other side of the table, his hands are already on you—steady and sure. Your fingers press into his shoulders as his palm sneaks between your legs, testing, feeling, confirming.

“Very good,” he purrs, voice drenched in satisfaction. His teasing fingers stroke over the fabric. Then, with a small tug, arms pull you forward.

“Now, come here,” he murmurs, his grip firm but careful. “One last thing.”

He guides you to straddle his lap, and you settle against him easily, warmth pooling where your bodies meet. The shift makes your skirt roll up, your underwear now completely visible, but Viktor’s eyes don’t drop—they linger on your face, on something softer.

His fingers reach for the high, snug collar of your turtleneck. He peels it back, unrolling the fabric slowly, like unwrapping a gift. Then, as soon as he sees the marks blooming along your throat, his breath catches.

“Oh my,” he muses, and his voice is velvet—rich, low, utterly charmed. His fingers brush over the bruises, ghosting along the evidence of his own mouthwork. “I got you good, haven’t I?”

Your lips twitch, suppressing a smirk. “I suppose you have.”

Viktor hums, tracing absentminded circles against your spine. His other hand rests on the curve of your bum. “Did it get you in trouble?”

“Not yet,” you admit, craning your neck, as he presses a kiss to the unmarked side. His lips are warm, his breath even warmer as he nuzzles into the skin, rubbing his nose over it before pressing another—softer, gentler—kiss.

“And you know… it’s going to be winter soon,” you murmur, fingers playing at the loose strands of his hair. “We can regroup in spring.”

Viktor huffs a quiet laugh, but his arms tighten around you. “No,” he decides. “I’ll be more careful.”

Your hands slide down to cup his jaw, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “Please don’t stop, though.”

He looks at you then, properly, and behind his eyes is fondness, undeniable, as his pupils search your face, hands reassure, his lap warms you up.

“I won’t.” His voice is a promise, lips brushing the words against your skin. Then, with a knowing smirk, he whispers, “Besides, there are other places.”

And you have neither the will nor the energy to gather more brat points this evening. So instead of snapping back with something clever, you nuzzle into his neck, pressing your nose against his skin and inhaling deeply—his stupid man-soap, his stupid plain washing powder, his stupid freckled skin.

Mouth open, you drag it up the slope of his throat, unhurried, skin pulling with the friction. He exhales, head tilting back, offering himself to you eagerly. His hips slide down the chair, and you have to hold onto his shoulders when he speaks to the ceiling, “Get on your knees for me.”

He smiles when he sees how snugly you fit there and asks, “Not opposed, hm?” Your palms rest on his thighs, fingers marching toward his belt as you shake your head, a timid smile stretching your lips. Before you can undo it for him, Viktor unbuckles himself. Metal clinks on the floor as he grasps your hands and presses them to his cock, leaning in to whisper, “Not good enough. I want you to love it.”

Your hands turn shaky all of a sudden, hesitating as you unbutton him. He looms over you, already cradling your nape, foreshadowing the moment the spaces between his fingers will be full of your hair. No drunken haze, no fucked-out brain—finally, you get a proper look. And Viktor is pretty, head to toe, you realise. His cock is half-hard, framed by dark hair that meets in a tempting line on his lower belly, rising and falling with each deep breath—just as the crown of his upper lip, it is made to be sucked on.

By the time your mouth reaches him, he’s so deeply blissed out he staggers. Because it’s not just your mouth—it’s your entire face that hugs him, repeating the gesture from the first night, when you simply rested your cheek on his length and breathed him in. His stupid man-smell. Sweet and salty with sweat, and you want to be closer, so you yank his pants down to his ankles. Viktor says nothing about the fact that you’ve done so without permission.

Because you move in, arms wrapping around his waist, your entire face pressed into his groin, mouth agape as you breathe deeply. Tranquillity, absolute and endless, floods you when, instead of yanking your head, he strokes it and sighs, long and heavy.

And then, you kiss him as if his cock were his lips—open-mouthed and with tongue—gliding over every inch in a loving rhythm, from the base to the tip and back down. Pressing him into his own stomach, hands tightening around his hips, you hum into his skin and Viktor shudders. Overwhelmed, he holds your jaw and urges you to stick your tongue out, mimicking the gesture himself. And that’s when you notice—his tongue is pretty too.

Cock lands in your mouth, its flushed head drags across the wet surface, teasing, the heat of your breath enveloping him. He pulls back, letting the tip slip free, and then smears the slickness of your spit along your cheek. The gesture so full of intent, his thumb following to spread it further, tracing the damp streak before he taps your cheek with his cock once—twice—three times, and smiles, grins with teeth and all. You’ve thought it impossible, but he just managed to get prettier even.

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his pants, gripping tight. Your eyes flutter shut, waiting.

“Ready?” he murmurs, voice thick.

You nod, anticipation rolling through you, but Viktor is nothing if not careful. His warm palm finds your cheek again, thumb pressing gently at the hinge of your jaw. “Remember about taps,” he reminds you, free hand cradling the back of your head. Then, finally, he pushes forward, slow but insistent, the head of his cock breaching your lips.

“That’s it,” he sighs, his grip tightening as he sinks deeper. “Good girl… You feel so—” He exhales sharply, rocking his hips shallowly. “That’s right. God, you feel good.”

His pace builds, measured at first, the tight ring of your mouth around him making his breath grow heavier. His fingers twitch against your scalp as he mutters, “So fucking pretty like this.”

Each word of praise spurs you on. You moan around his cock, and Viktor grunts with effort, his breath shuddering, brows knitting. He brushes your hair off your face, gathering it carefully in his hand, mindful not to pull. Tears begin to sting the corners of your eyes, but you do not falter. You clutch his legs for support as Viktor shifts to the edge of the chair, caging you between his thighs.

Sweat begins to pearl on his forehead, fingers pressing deeper into muscle. His voice thickens, English fracturing as pleasure takes over.

“Děláš mi to tak dobře,” he groans, voice rough with need. His hips push forward with a little more force, testing. “Podívej se na tebe… tak nádherná s pusou plnou.”

Less air, more heat pooling low in your belly. Drool pooling in your mouth. A tear breaks free, rolling down your cheek, and something shifts in Viktor’s expression—fascinated. Your lashes flutter, eyes hazy as he holds you there, thighs clenching.

He pulls back, letting you gasp, spit clinging between your lips and his skin before he presses in again, deeper this time. His grip tightens at your nape, holding you steady.

“Můj chytrý, drzý, krásný děvče,” he pants, voice hoarse, words spilling from him like a prayer. “Vezmi si mě celého.”

You roll your tongue out and angle your head for him to enter easier. He’s back instantly, you catch only a glimpse of his cock glistening in your drool, and it excites you, boiling over. He slides in, slowly, watches himself disappear between your lips with wide eyes, half of him, and then, oh, all of him, as your throat straightens and becomes full. All falls quiet around you, and you close your eyes, holding him in for four long seconds, before patting his thigh twice.

Viktor retreats immediately, cradles your face and asks, “Colour?” before you are done gulping on air.

“Green,” you rasp, reaching back for his cock, a string of drool hanging from your lip, low, nearly staining your chest.

You flatten your tongue, tilt your head, open up. He’s there in an instant, the blunt, slick head pressing against your lips. A brief glance down—his cock shining, thick with spit, dark hair curling damp at the base. A sharp pulse flares in your loins at the sight, and then he’s sliding back in, slow, watching himself vanish between your lips. Halfway. Then deeper. Your throat takes him, stretches, the press of him filling your mouth, your ribs tightening with the effort of stillness.

Everything stills, quiet in your ears. His hand heavy at the back of your skull, his breath gone shallow. Your lashes flutter, eyes shut. Four long seconds, your lungs burning, and then—two quick taps to his thigh.

He pulls back instantly, his hands gentle when they frame your face. “Colour?” His voice frays at the edges, all rasp and need.

“Green.” Your voice is wrecked, breathless. You reach back for him, spit trailing from your lip, stringing low, silver in the dim light. “Please, again.”

His thumbs stroke across your cheeks, slow, tracing heat beneath the skin. “What have I done to deserve you?” His voice, a rasp of breath and want. He presses a dry kiss to your forehead, something reverent in it, then tilts your face up. “Does it feel good, when you can’t breathe?”

Your breath stutters. “Yes,” barely more than air, forehead pressing to his chin, hands clenching around his wrists. “God, yes.” The words slip free like a confession.

He lets you hold on, lets you bear down as he presses in again. The tension of muscle, the slow give of your throat around him. He watches, eyes dark, intent—reads the flicker of your lashes, the shudder in your ribs, the shine of spit where it slicks him. He sees the way your body makes space for him, the way your throat clenches, the way tears bead and slip from the corners of your eyes.

A long, shuddering breath. He pushes deeper. Watches himself disappear, faster this time. Pulling your hand with him, his fingers skate down, brush the column of your throat, mapping the way it stretches, the pulse leaping beneath his touch. He watches, always watching, eyes heavy-lidded, half-wild, but still careful. His palm flattens, thumb stroking over your skin as he rocks forward, measuring each inch that slides in, each tiny shift of muscle.

“Good,” he murmurs, voice fragmented. “Touch yourself.”

Hand leaves his wrist and finds its place between your legs when you part your thighs and dip into your underwear. It sticks to your skin, drenched, when you part yourself and try to not lose focus. You picture it’s him, somehow, touching you.

His hips roll, slow at first, feeding you the length of him, watching how your lips part wider, how your jaw strains to take him deeper. He feels your fingers flex around his wrist, grip tightening before easing, giving way. The first wet sound pulls a groan from him, rough yet quiet.

“There you go,” he says, as if coaxing something delicate to open. His thumb lingers at your throat, pressing just enough to feel himself inside. His grip at your nape steadies you as he moves again, guiding you, his restraint threadbare.

The wet pull of your mouth drags another guttural sound from his chest, and it sounds so fucking lovely you moan around his cock. His words break into rough blabber, heat-struck and low. “Tak nádherná... tak dokonalá…”

A stutter of hips, breath cuts when he swallows hard and fingers tease at your throat. “Breathe,” he reminds, voice fraying, rasping. “Tap if—” His voice cuts off as you swallow around him, as your tongue presses firm.

His jaw clenches, body tight, but his hand never leaves your throat, never stops searching for your breath, for the shift of muscle as he works himself deeper.

Your eyes flicker up, wet and wide. The sight of you like this undoes him.

His breath stutters out, a ragged curse, his head tipping back. Fingers tightening as heat coils, as his restraint snaps, and with a final shuddering groan, he spills into your mouth. The taste of him, heavy salt, the sight of his stomach hollowing out under the muscle cramp, tips your over and you suck him out, milk him, grunting around his sensitive skin, cunt clenching around nothing as you come.

You swallow around him until there is a vacuum, and Viktor hisses, his grip on your head tightening. He exhales heavily, unsteady, then pulls out with a wet sigh and beckons you up by the neck, guiding you back until your thighs bracket his.

Up there, in his lap, he kisses you—deep, grateful—licking himself from your mouth. A low hum rumbles in his chest as he wraps his arms around you.

“Not opposed, huh?” he teases.

You chuckle, warmth curling at the edges of your voice. “I suppose you can call me a fan,” you admit, sheepish, fingers idly tracing the back of his neck.

Viktor is already elsewhere, mind moving faster than breath, reading you even now. “How are you feeling?”

You exhale, pressing your forehead to his shoulder. “So fucking tired. But good. Now good.”

He hums, then urges you to stand. His own movements are slow, careful—he rises with difficulty, a quiet wince caught in his throat. He stretches, rolling his shoulders, then glances at you. “How early do you have to wake up tomorrow?”

You shift on your feet, rubbing your arms. “I don’t… I have to do some things in the evening, but I have Sunday morning free.”

And Viktor tries not to come off as anything, face fully naked when he says, “I implore you to stay, then.”

Spacing out just a bit, not as strongly as the last time, you nod, sling the bag back over your shoulder and let yourself be walked to his bedroom. There, wordlessly, Viktor undresses down to his underwear. You catch the glimpse of a fresh bruise on his stomach, previously hidden beneath his shirt. He sits on the bed, stretching his leg out with a sigh, then looks up at you, still standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“You can change in the bathroom, you know?” he says, amusement curling at the edges of his lips.

“I know, I just—” you hesitate. “It’s just very domestic,” you say, cringing at your own immaturity.

Viktor exhales a laugh through his nose. “Only because we are at my home.” His gaze lingers, curious. “Does that bother you?”

“No,” you say and the fact that it truly doesn’t—that’s what bothers you. Viktor shifts from acting like he cares beyond measure to as if he would go wherever the wind blows. From being utterly excited about your discontentment to completely unbothered about anything you decide. He sits on the bed in just his boxers, giving you a lopsided smile. “Go change.”

As soon as you do, he falls onto his back and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Fuck,” he mutters quietly to himself. After a long breath, he rolls onto his belly, reaching into the bedside stand. He pulls out a syringe, rolls back, sits up, and gathers a small pinch of skin on his stomach. On the opposite side of the fresh bruise, the needle goes in smoothly, but Viktor hisses at the sensation of fluid expanding the tissues. He massages it out and drops the syringe into the trash bin beside the bed.

By the time you come out of the bathroom, he’s already in bed. His arm is flung over his face, his body slack, only the subtle rise and fall of his chest betraying that he’s still awake. You settle into the farthest edge of the bed—just like last time.

Viktor chuckles when you slide under the covers and yawn. Shifting closer, he reaches for you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against his chest. His breath is warm against your temple.

“Why are you all the way over there again?” he murmurs, voice tired.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, arms trapped, fingers tapping his sternum. “I don’t want to invade your space.”

Viktor hums, his lips ghosting over your hair. “You are in my bed,” he points out, his tone dry but fond.

You hesitate, then offer, “I can go if you want me to.”

“Hush now,” he chides softly, arms tightening. A pause, then, quieter, “Do you mind this?”

Your breathe out a quiet groan. Then, “N-no,” you stammer. “But I’m fine today, I don’t need—”

“I do,” he interrupts, his voice lower, steady. His fingers splay against your back, pressing you close. “I need this.” A beat of silence, then, gentler, “Is that okay?”

And even if you were able to say no before, now it’s impossible. Because Viktor sinks, his face brushing against yours in something almost absentmindedly affectionate, his breath warming up your cheek. Being needed overrides the unease of non-sexual closeness.

“It’s okay,” you mutter finally. Then, “Viktor?”

“Hm?” he hums, the sound lazy, content.

“Why a skirt?”

“Ah,” A chuckle. “No reason really, other than that I like your legs. Also, easier access, if you please,” he says, squeezing your butt. “I might have gotten a better use of it, wasn’t my leg not up to it today.” That’s a quiet admission he hasn’t meant to share yet, but it just happens. And it lands softly in your clever brain that connects the dots quickly.

“Is that why your stomach is bruised?”

“Oh.” He shifts slightly, reaching back toward the nightstand. “Partly. It’s the brace,” he explains, retrieving a small syringe and holding it up for you to see. “These prevent blood clotting under the trapped tissue.”

You frown. “It looks painful.” Another piece of Viktor for your collection.

“It doesn’t hurt,” he assures you, setting the syringe aside. His mouth quirks slightly. “But I’m aware it’s not the most aesthetically pleasing sight.”

You scoff. “Your stomach is one of the most aesthetically pleasing sights I’ve had the opportunity to ogle.” You hesitate, then add, softer, “I’m just checking. Just curious.”

Viktor exhales a quiet chuckle. “I like your stomach too.”

You snort. “Are you always such a sap after sex?”

“Do you want me to be mean?” he counters, brow quirking.

“No,” you say quickly. “No, please be a sap.”

He hums again, his grip on you tightening briefly. “You are a very strange creature,” he says at last, affection dripping from his tongue, though it seems he hadn’t intended it to. Mercifully, you don’t comment on it. You just nose into his neck, breathing in deeply—the stupid smell of him. —

Translations: Děláš mi to tak dobře – You make me feel so good Podívej se na tebe… tak nádherná s pusou plnou – Look at you… so beautiful with your mouth full Můj chytrý, drzý, krásný děvče – My smart, sassy, beautiful girl Vezmi si mě celého – Take all of me Tak nádherná... tak dokonalá… – So beautiful… so perfect…

[smartkookiee]

How to Lose A Guy in 30 Days || Ch.4 — jjk.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀° ❥pairing: Jungkook x Reader (she/her, afab) ❥genre/rating: strangers to lovers, 18+ ❥chapter warnings/tags: software engineer!Jungkook, writer!Reader, flirting, some family drama, crazy and manipulative mom stuff, movie night, some domesticity, they are cute for like five seconds before everything goes to shit (whoops), Jimin and Tae being little shits, Jin being a real homie, some heavy misunderstanding and miscommunication ❥word-count: 7.1k ❥Series Masterlist Previous Chapter ||❥|| Next chapter ❥Playlist fic is cross posted to ao3 send an ask or comment on post to be added to the tag list. a/n: Hi everyone I know this is a short chapter but I hope you enjoy anyway, this chapter introduces some important stuff so I really like it. Enjoy <3 ❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°

Day 07

“12 dates is hilarious.” 

Jin, Ronnie, and Namjoon all snickered as you explained your last date with Jungkook, explaining the end and your sorry excuse to get out of his apartment. 

“I couldn’t think of anything else! I needed some excuse to leave and then he asked me how many dates, and I just thought of the first number that felt ridiculous.” You run your hands through your hair, laughing at yourself. The four of you gathered in your small living room, you had taken to laying on the floor. Picking out fibers from the rug you had. Jin sitting next to you and Namjoon and Ronnie on the couch. 

“What did he say?” Ronnie asked.

Suddenly a buzz from your phone, a small piece of you wondering if maybe it was a text from him. Seeing who it was, your disappointment became evident but you tried to play it off. Not in the mood to respond to who that text actually came from. Setting your phone down on the coffee table face down. 

Thinking back to the shocked and then cool and collected look Jungkook had on his face was amusing, “Oh he was fine with it, maybe a little surprised. Said he just needed to plan for ten more dates.” 

“At least he’s got some class.” Jin poked your forehead. The disappointment from whatever text you got was evident on your face.

He had a lot more class than any of you had given him credit for. “So what comes next for the two of you?” Namjoon asked, curiosity had filled the room the whole morning about what your next steps would be.

Another buzz comes from your phone, you don’t need to check it. You know who it’s from. You ignore it and continue, “Well I think I can start to turn up the heat.” You sit up. “Which is the hard part of all of this.”

“Oh you’ve got this. If you can almost break your own nose in front of him, surely anything else will be a piece of cake.” Ronnie assured you with a wink and you roll your eyes. 

“Still sore to be honest.” You say touching the end of your nose. Remembering the concern on Jungkook’s face when you had hit yourself, it was sweet. 

“When are you going out next? I want to help you plan.” Jin bounced in his spot next to you. 

You placed a hand on his shoulder to hold him in place. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, I haven’t even heard from him.” Another buzz from your phone, you ignore it again. Wishful thinking would make it be Jungkook. 

“Why not call him? Who says you have to wait on the guy?” Namjoon suggests. 

“You think I should?” You felt a little nervous and unsure. 

Ronnie nods, giving Namjoon a pat on the shoulder. “Namjoon's right, plus you’ve already called him so the ice is already broken!” 

Jin, grabs your phone from your coffee table, holding it to you, “Oh do it now! We can help!” 

You take your phone but right at that moment you get another text. Putting it at four already, your face dropped a little as you just ignored them opening your phone. Finding Jungkook’s contact and almost pressing call but suddenly you realized how close everyone was and they were all staring at you with big and intent eyes. You very quickly understood what it felt like to be a fish in a bowl. 

“Okay freaks, I’m doing this in the other room.” You stand to your feet, but Jin pulls you back down and they all protest. 

“No! No no we’ll be good I swear.” Ronnie said, sitting straight up in her spot like you were a teacher. 

“Swear.” Jin crossed over his heart.

“...Fine.” You groan.  You decided to press call. Waiting for a moment, immediately regretting your decision. You didn’t have a single clue what you were going to say. 

The phone rang and rang, it was possible he was busy and you were almost going to hang up. Just as that moment line picked up, there was shuffling on the other end before the line cleared. 

“Hello?” Jungkook’s voice came through the line, he sounded groggy and probably not awake. It was 11 you didn’t think it was too early to call. 

“Hi.” Your voice is turning lighter than you would normally use it. “Uhh good morning! Did I wake you?” 

You look to the others and Namjoon is gesturing for you to put the phone on speaker but you wave him off. One, for the off chance one of them laughs and completely embarrass you. Two, you didn’t need every second of this situation invaded by your friends. 

Jungkook let out a tired laugh, “Yeah but I don’t mind… Good morning.” 

"I was just sort of calling to say hi…" You hesitated, then smiled. "Which I’ve already done, so I guess I could just hang up now."

Jungkook hummed, amusement slipping into his tone. "Well, it’s a good thing you called. I was just having a crazy dream about us." 

“Oh us?” 

"Yeah. Something about you coming over and us having a movie night… details are fuzzy, but that was the gist of it."

“Hmm sounds like a pretty lame dream.” 

"Lame?" Jungkook scoffed. "I thought it was sweet. A classic date formula."

"I’m teasing, can’t mess with a classic. Well, speaking of that." You started, shifting your phone to your other ear. "I was actually going to see if you were free today… or tonight, I guess."

Jungkook made a dramatic show of shuffling around on the other end of the line, as if checking a nonexistent schedule. "Let me see… yep. A whole lot of nothing planned for today."

"Wow, what an eventful life you lead."

"I know. Truly, I’m booked and busy."

You bit back a laugh. "Okay, can I come to yours again? I have some errands on that side of town."

A small fib. You didn’t actually have errands, but you weren’t ready to have Jungkook over at your place. 

"Yeah, that’s fine." Jungkook said easily, followed by a yawn. "Text me some snacks you like, and I’ll go get them."

"Oh, you don’t have to do that."

"I have nothing better to do today anyway." There was a sound of sheets rustling, like he was stretching. "Text me when you’re on your way."

"Alright. See you later."

With that, you ended the call, exhaling deeply before finally looking up—only to find three pairs of eyes locked onto you with identical expressions of giddy anticipation.

You groaned. "Okay, I’m leaving."

Namjoon smirked. "It’s your house."

You stand just to go into your kitchen, honestly trying to step aside. Because you got five more texts in the span of that call. You knew exactly who from, and you were finding your anxiety building on your stomach. Twisting and turning as you read the messages, Jin coming over to you in your focused concern. 

“It’s happening again, isn’t it?” He says it quietly, Namjoon and Ronnie distracted with some conversation by themselves. 

You don’t look at him shielding your phone, “That easy to tell?”

“You looked like you saw a ghost when you looked at your phone, then continued to intentionally ignore it. I’m a bit of a  detective” He leans on one hip bringing his pointer finger and thumb up to his chin. Obviously trying to make you feel better. “Let me guess, back in the country?” 

“I guess so…” You pause, you get another text. 

Are you going to respond to me? Hello?

You sigh, shoving your phone in your pocket, Jin sighs. “You can talk about it if you would like.” 

"No." You shut it down quickly, then, realizing how defensive you sounded, cleared your throat. "No… it’s fine. I’ll be fine. It goes like this every time." 

Jin arched a brow. "Yeah, and every time, you give in." 

"I know." You murmured. "It’s just… sometimes hard to say no."

"But you have to." His tone was firm but not unkind. "It won’t be like last time, right?"

You swallowed. "Right."

Jin was clearly not convinced, but he let it go. "If you need backup, let me know. I’ll hover around you like a helicopter if you need."

You let out a weak laugh. "I won’t need that. I just have to keep details short. If I talk about my promotion at all, it’ll turn into a whole thing."

"I know. I was there last time." Jin said, voice laced with frustration—not at you, but at the situation. "Just… don’t let yourself get guilt-tripped into giving her money again. You know it’s not going to where she says it is."

“It’s…not always like that…” A lie, a knee jerk excuse. One you had been trying to stop making.

“Uh-huh." Jin gave you a look. "Just try to remember how bad things got. I know she’s your mom but she has a way of convincing you things aren’t so bad.” 

There it was. Mom. Or as she liked to put it, your best friend.

"As long as she doesn’t start showing up at my house, it’ll be fine." You said, picking at your nails. "After that, it’ll be hard to get her to leave…"

Jin watched you closely, eyes scanning your nervous fidgeting, but instead of pressing further, he simply bumped his shoulder against yours.

"Come on," He said, his voice deliberately lighter. "No more talk about her. Take out your anxiety on Jungkook instead."

You snorted, shaking your head. "That’s not how that works."

Jin smirked. "Could be. Just make his life a little difficult for fun." He gave you a playful shove back toward the living room.

"So," Ronnie said as you rejoined them. "What’s your plan for tonight?"

You let out a slow breath, feeling a familiar little spark of mischief flicker in your chest.

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Jungkook spent the day tidying up his apartment—not that it was messy to begin with, but he wanted things to be nice. After all, you were coming over. He even grabbed some snacks, per your request, carefully picking out a selection he thought you'd like. It had been a while since he spent a Saturday night in, but honestly, he was looking forward to it.

Last week getting to know you had been easy, comfortable in a way he hadn’t expected. If the next month went like this, he’d coast through without a hitch. That is, as long as there weren’t any more unnecessary interruptions. Like Channel.

Except tonight, he had a different interruption to deal with.

A series of loud knocks echoed through his apartment just as he was pouring chips into a bowl. He sighed, already sensing trouble before he even reached the door.

"Jungkookie!" Taehyung’s familiar voice called from the other side, followed by the sound of muffled laughter—Jimin, no doubt.

Jungkook frowned as he swung the door open, revealing both of them standing there with far too much excitement for two people who weren’t supposed to be here.

"You’re not dressed." Jimin pointed out immediately, gesturing to Jungkook’s sweatpants and oversized t-shirt like they personally offended him.

"Am I supposed to be?" Jungkook asked, already feeling the beginnings of a headache.

"Uh, yeah. We have plans." Taehyung said, pushing past him into the apartment without hesitation. Jimin followed, shaking his head in disappointment.

Jungkook turned, face scrunching in confusion. "No, we don’t."

Jimin scoffed, crossing his arms. "We always go out on Saturdays. It’s tradition. Like breathing, or me looking better than Taehyung."

"You wish." Taehyung muttered before grabbing a handful of popcorn from Jungkook’s snack spread.

"Well, not tonight." Jungkook said firmly, closing the door and facing them with finality. "Y/N is coming over. We’re hanging out."

Jimin raised an eyebrow and did a slow scan of the room, eyes landing on the array of snacks, the neatly arranged couch, and the cozy atmosphere Jungkook had set up.

"Oh. Hanging out." He echoed, a teasing lilt in his voice.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. "Not like that. Actually just hanging out."

"So you’re ditching us?" Taehyung asked, feigning a dramatic pout as he stuffed more popcorn into his mouth.

"To hang out with her? Absolutely."

Jimin gasped, clutching his chest. "Who are you, and what have you done with my party animal Jungkook?"

Jungkook rolled his eyes. "Nothing’s changed. I’m just taking our little bet seriously."

The moment he mentioned the bet, Taehyung and Jimin exchanged glances—silent, knowing, mischievous. They weren’t about to lose to him that easily.

"Come on, we came all this way." Taehyung tried again, leaning dramatically against the counter like he was truly heartbroken.

"Yeah, and I feel so bad." Jungkook deadpanned. "Now, please leave before I throw you out."

He ducked into the bathroom before either of them could protest further.

The second he disappeared, Jimin and Taehyung snapped into action.

"Okay, we have to do something." Jimin whispered.

Taehyung’s eyes flickered around the room before landing on Jungkook’s phone sitting on the kitchen counter. A slow, devious grin spread across his face.

"Don’t." Jimin warned, though he didn’t actually mean it.

Taehyung was already moving, snatching the phone up swiftly.

"We’re just gonna... help him out a little." He said, winking.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀ • *₊

Later, another knock sounded at Jungkook’s door.

He wasted no time opening it, revealing you standing there, smiling brightly. You were also dressed down. To his surprise in some very bright pink sweatpants, which were Ronnie’s, but he would never know. You also wore a very cutesy graphic t-shirt with my melody on it to match the vibe. Nothing wrong with them at all but not your usual vibe but this choice of outfit was more of an experiment. 

Jungkook didn’t seem to blink at it.

"You wear glasses?" The words tumbled out before you even said hello, your eyes locked onto the frames perched on his nose.

Jungkook blinked, caught off guard. "Uh, yeah. My contacts were irritating my eyes, so I went with these tonight."

He stepped aside to let you in, watching as you barely moved, still staring at him like he had just unlocked a whole new level of attractiveness.

"No, they’re super cute." You said quickly, almost tripping over your words.

You actually pull your eyes away though as you make your way to the living room. Needing to bite on your something since you were a stupid sucker for glasses on anyone. Realizing Jungkook had indeed gotten most of the snacks you requested and some you assumed were to his preference. 

Everything was spread over his coffee table with some precision it seemed, like he thought about where to place things intentionally. 

This was a great opener to turn on your new “Charm” that Jin had helped you perfect most of the day earlier. “Awe! This is so sweet Jungkook.” Pitching up your tone almost borderline in a baby voice. Having to fight back at cringing at yourself. Taking a seat down on the couch.

Jungkook didn’t seem to notice, “I tried. I got a couple things for the both of us.” Acting all nonchalant. Strolling around the couch and taking a seat next to you. 

You force yourself to giggle a little too obnoxiously. Hitting Jungkook in the chest with a little too much force but in a playful manner, “So what are we watching?” 

Jungkook rubs the spot where you hit him, you had much more strength than he gave you credit for. “I was going to let you choose. I’m not too picky when it comes to movies.” 

“Oh yay!” You clap your hands together, god you really hated this. This was not you, Jungkook seemed to be a little thrown by your giddiness but it was whatever. You grab the remote he strategically placed on the table. Guess he had prepared for this. “What to pick, the choices are endless.” 

Which it actually had you in a small panic, you weren’t ready to have to pick the movie. You had a hard enough time just telling Jungkook what snacks you wanted. While you began to pursue, Jungkook’s phone sounded with the dig from a text.  You glanced sideways for a quick second, Jungkook pulling out his phone to see who it was from. 

Jungkook's expressions seemed throne and confused by the text that came through. Then another ding. The expression seemed to twist further. Your interest peaked. 

“Something wrong?” You look at him, glancing down to his phone then back to him. 

Jungkook locks his phone and sets it down on the couch beside him. “No, I think a wrong number is texting me.” His tone is casual, but there’s a flicker of something in his expression.  

You nod, turning back toward the TV, scrolling lazily through the endless options. “Okay… are you opposed to any genres?”

“Nope.” He smirks, stretching an arm across the back of the couch. “Do your worst.”

You hum thoughtfully, but you’re already scheming. The goal isn’t to pick a good movie—it’s to pick the worst one possible. Something Jungkook would definitely find boring. But just as you’re debating between a painfully slow documentary or an overly dramatic romance, his phone vibrates again.

And again.

You don’t glance over, but you hear it—persistent, insistent.

Jungkook sighs quietly and checks his screen. More texts.

Taylor: Hey remember me? ;)

Taylor: Busy 2 night?

Taylor: Wanna get a drink??

Taylor: Hello?

He hadn’t hooked up with any Taylors recently. At least, not that he could remember. He locks his phone again, deciding it’s best to ignore it. Hoseok had drilled it into his head not to be on his phone when hanging out with someone—it was rude, and Jungkook actually wanted to be present.

But the buzzing doesn’t stop.

Meanwhile, you keep scrolling, eyes fixed on the screen, but you’ve already started keeping count. How many texts? How many times is he checking? The more his phone vibrates, the more you start tallying numbers in your head.

“Oh! Miss congeniality!” You cheer, a pick that actually really was a favorite of yours. Not a total favorite of any guys you had watched it though. 

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, glancing at the banner image. “What is it?”

You tuck your legs under yourself, shifting to look at him. “Sandra Bullock is an FBI agent who goes undercover at the Miss United States Pageant to stop a terrorist attack. She gets a really awesome makeover halfway through.”

Jungkook tilts his head. “Alright. I’ll bite.”

“If you hate it, we can change it.”

“No, I always commit once I start a movie.” He didn’t seem to be bullshitting you here.

“Perfect.” You don’t hesitate to hit play.

The movie starts to play and Jungkook seems to actually be true to his word, the two of you sat close but he didn’t try to make a move or anything. He had these big brown doe eyes watching and would smile or laugh a little too himself. 

But something still gnaws at you.

His phone sits in his lap, and every time it vibrates, you hear it.

And it’s vibrating a lot.

Jungkook ignores it for as long as he can, but eventually, he caves. One quick glance at the screen, and his stomach drops.

Over thirty new texts.

From Taylor.

Taylor: I CANT BELIEVE YOU

Taylor: YOU DON’T REMEMBER WHO I AM

TAYLOR: WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU

The texts continued like that. Not to mention he was also getting texts from another girl who he seemingly had no recollection of, Jemma.

Jemma: You aren’t going to tell Taylor that we hooked up right?

Jemma: Jungkook she can’t know she like… super likes you 

Jemma: Like for serious likes you 

Jemma: Jungkookie?

Jungkook stares at the screen, brain scrambling to place the names. Who the hell are these people? His memory isn’t that bad—if he had hooked up with someone recently, he’d remember. Right? Jungkook sighs and quickly types a response, hoping to shut this down before it gets any worse. Whatever was going on was certainly getting noticeable.

Which you had indeed noticed. You kept tally, and you were trying to find a window when you could use this. When could this play to your advantage tonight? 

Jungkook begins to type furiously trying to find something to say that will end this for the night or until he can figure out what is going on another time.

Which is when you take your moment to jump, “Who are you talking too?” You ask casually, looking over at his phone. You had already seen the girl's names on his phone already.

Jungkook immediately pulls his phone closer to his chest. “It’s no one.” 

Which was not a lie because Jungkook was trying to figure out who these people were. 

Your eyes flick to his phone, knowing full well that’s not true. “You seem to be getting a lot of texts.” You remark, folding your arms. “Seems like someone really needs your attention.”

Jungkook notices but figures he can diffuse the situation once he figures out what's going on. He doesn’t respond but continues wracking his brain for a moment as he looks at the texts trying to place these names. 

You take the silence as a good opener, having to psych yourself up a bit. “Who is she?” 

Jungkook blinks, finally looking up at you. Your eyes are locked onto him, sharp and expectant. “Huh?” 

“The girl you are clearly talking to, who is she?” You pressed, your voice was now more accusing and you were waiting to see what kind of answer he was going to give. 

“I’m not–” Almost like on cue Jungkook’s phone begins to ring in his hand. The big bold name Taylor is fully visible on his screen for the both of you. “Oh my god this can’t be happening. I swear I genuinely don’t know who this is.” 

“You expect me to believe that? Your phone has been going off all night.” You huff and look away from him and keep your eyes locked on the movie. Having to bite the inside of your cheek so as to not laugh at how ridiculous you sound right now. 

Jungkook looks lost. Completely lost. He declines another incoming call, his frustration growing. But the silence only fuels your ‘annoyance.’ He was confused how you immediately Jumped from A to Z so quickly. Jungkook grits his teeth and scrolls through the messages again. He scans every name, every interaction—until finally, it clicks.

Only to come to the realization…

“Oh those fuckers.” Jungkook says under his breath. “I will be right back.” 

Your eyes widened because was he really going to leave while you were upset right now? Fake upset but still. “You’re actually going to take that call?” 

“It’s not what it looks like, just let me take care of this. Then I will clear this all up.”

“Not what it looks like? It looks like you’re going to take another phone call with another girl during the movie? Are you serious?” You wave your arms around a little dramatically but it sells it.

Jungkook is unsure of how to navigate this. “I just need to resolve this so that we are no longer interrupted. I swear it’s not what it looks like.” 

Jungkook gets another call from the “mysterious” Taylor. Jungkook answering it and stepping out the front door of his place to take the call, “You guys are really fucked up you know that?” 

There’s a dramatic throat clearing on the other end, followed by an overly high-pitched voice. “What do you mean, Jungkookie? I’m Taylor.” 

Jungkook closes his eyes, exhaling sharply. “Had your fun? Played your games?” 

There’s muffled laughter, and then Jimin’s voice replaces Taehyung’s. “We were just screwing with you, man. We were pissed you bailed on us. By the way, how’s your date going?”

Jungkook pinches the bridge of his nose. “Thanks to you two idiots, she thinks I’m screwing around. So not great.”

“Oh no.” Taehyung deadpans. “So sad. Taehyung's voice mocked Jungkook but Jungkook was actually mad. 

You were already hesitant to date him in the first place and this looked really bad. Your reaction may have been a little strong… and confusing since you were pretty rational. It did look bad though and Jungkook couldn’t deny that.

“Fuck you guys.” He mutters. “We were actually having a nice time.”

“You never said we couldn’t interfere.”

Jungkook ran a hand over his face. “Because that’s fucking insane? I didn’t think I had to say it.”

“Fine, you’re no fun. We won’t interfere from here on out.” Jimin swears” Jimin’s voice was mockingly sincere but Taehyung wasn’t going to make the same promise.

“Goodnight.” Jungkook was too annoyed to deal with them anymore. 

“I hope she dumps you-” Taehyung calls into the phone as Jungkook didn’t even dignify that with a response; just hung up and shoved his phone into his pocket. He let out a slow breath before heading back inside.

The apartment felt heavier than before, quieter, except for the hum of the movie still playing in the background. You were still on the couch, but your posture had changed. You weren’t curled up comfortably anymore; instead, you sat stiffly, chewing on popcorn in the kind of silence that was loud. You wish you could see yourself, it was a very convincing performance after all.

Jungkook hesitated before stepping closer. “I’m sorry about that.”

You didn’t even look at him. “Yeah, okay.”

He winced. “You’re mad.”

“Well, duh, Jungkook.” You exhaled sharply, shaking your head as you stared at the screen. “You were texting and talking through the movie when we were supposed to be hanging out. If you’d rather be somewhere else, you could’ve just said so.”

Jungkook sat down beside you, carefully, like you might bolt at any second. “I don’t want to be anywhere else.” His voice was quieter now, sincere. “I’ve really liked getting to know you. I actually wanted to watch this with you, but my idiot friends decided to mess with me.”

You shot him a skeptical glance. “Friends. Right.”

“I swear.” Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. “They were pissed I bailed on them tonight, so they changed their names on my phone, spammed me, and set me up.”

You hesitated, but Jungkook was already unlocking his phone. He scrolled up in his messages, showing you the texts. “See? Just last week, their real names were still here. This whole thing was just them being assholes.”

You narrowed your eyes at the screen, scanning the evidence. A pause. Then, finally—“Wow. Your friends kinda suck.”

Jungkook let out a relieved laugh. “Just a little.” He shook his head. “They thought it would be funny. And, okay, maybe it was—”

“It wasn’t.” You deadpanned.

He smirked. “Yeah well, not for me.”

You sighed, your shoulders relaxing just a little. “I guess I… overreacted. I just have a thing about people being on their phones during movies.” You scratched the side of your head, looking slightly sheepish.

Jungkook grinned, happy to take the win. “No more phone.” He picked it up and placed it far away on the couch. “Easy.”

It was a nice gesture but completely unnecessary. “You’re cute but it’s alright.” 

“Nah. No more phone. I’ll never look at it again.” He teases as he scoots close to you, “You’re much more interesting to look at anyways.” 

“Wow, that was really cheesy.” You teased, shaking your head.

Jungkook just grinned.

Despite the earlier hiccup, the night had settled into something easy and comfortable. You rewound the movie to the parts he missed, both of you sinking back into the cushions as if nothing had happened. There was no tension, no lingering frustration—just soft laughter, playful commentary, and the occasional reach into the snack pile.

“Okay, but like, I would let Sandra Bullock beat me up too.” Jungkook commented, nodding in approval at the screen.

You turned to him, raising a suspicious brow. “Masochist?”

“I’ll never tell.” His smirk was effortless, teasing, but what you hadn’t quite realized was how close the two of you had shifted throughout the night. Your legs had found their way over his lap at some point, and his arm was draped lazily around your shoulders, his bicep doubling as a makeshift pillow. His other hand rested absentmindedly over your calf, tracing absent-minded patterns against the fabric of your sweatpants.

Jungkook couldn’t remember the last time he had just sat with someone like this—no expectations, no rush, just the quiet hum of companionship. It was… nice.

You, on the other hand, were still determined to find another opening to be difficult, but as the night wore on, you were reluctantly realizing that you might have to try again another time.

Jungkook had kept his word, his phone untouched for the rest of the evening. Not that he was missing much. Whatever was happening in the group chat could wait—he was too busy being here. With you.

“You’re all techy and whatever.” You mused, tilting your head up at him. “Would you ever be an FBI agent?”

Jungkook scoffed, shaking his head. “Not a chance. I don’t think I’m smart enough to foil a terrorist plot… or go undercover without blowing my own cover.” He absentmindedly played with his lip ring, his voice dipping into something thoughtful. “What about you?”

You exhaled a small laugh. “Yeah, no. I’m a writer, not an agent, that’s for sure.” You paused, considering it for a moment before adding, “Although, I think I could do undercover.”

Jungkook glanced at you, intrigued. “Oh yeah? You could be a Gracie Lou Freebush?” He referenced Sandra Bullock’s alias in the movie.

“Oh, absolutely.” You said with zero hesitation. “Plus, I’ve interviewed and hung out with a lot of pageant girls in the past for my writing.”

His brows lifted in genuine interest. “Wait, what? How come?”

“I did a piece in college about pageantry and got to know a lot of girls who did it professionally. They were really sweet, honestly.”

“That’s so cool.” His voice was laced with admiration. “What else have you written?”

You hesitated, suddenly shy. “Oh god, I’ve written about a lot of things, but nothing worth the time.”

“That can’t be true.” Jungkook’s voice softened, his curiosity undeniably genuine. “I’d love to read something… I mean, if you’ll let me.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard. His big, expectant eyes searched yours, but there was no teasing, no ulterior motive—just pure interest.

A warm flush crept onto your cheeks. “Okay.” You murmured, cursing the lovesick way your voice wavered. “Maybe I can find something that’s not totally terrible.”

Jungkook grinned like you’d just given him a prize.

Neither of you had been paying much attention to the screen, and at some point, the movie had ended.

“Alright, your turn.” You pat Jungkook’s arm, the one still draped around you, before shifting your legs from his lap, giving him space in case he needs to move.

Jungkook leans over to the coffee table and retrieves the remote from the coffee table. Shuffling through the choices. He thought for a moment what he should select. If he should stay on the romance vein or go down another path. 

Eventually landing on, definitely a left turn movie for the night. 

“Okay, I know this totally changes the tone, but I love this movie.” He clicks on Across the Spider-Verse. “The animation is insane, and I really love Spider-Man.”

You laugh. “You don’t have to sell it to me. I’ve seen it before.”

“Good.” His excitement is almost tangible. “I’ve been wanting to rewatch it.”

Without a second thought, Jungkook casually lifts your legs back over his lap, a move that catches you off guard.

“I was cold.” He feigns innocence.

“Uh-huh, I super believe you.” You giggle, settling back against his arm just as the movie begins.

You couldn’t have gotten a minute in before you felt your phone vibrate like you were getting a call. It was in your pocket and you intended to silence it but you wouldn’t be so lucky to ignore it. Your mom’s ID popping up on the screen. You pretty quickly decline it, hoping, no praying it wouldn’t be pushed further than that. That was until the text that it was immediately followed up with. 

Mom: Baby I’m coming over. You keep ignoring me. 

Mom: I have so much to tell you about!!!!!!

Oh no. Oh no no no. 

She was going to your place. You aren’t at your place. 

Panic spreads like ice through your veins. You sat up in your place away from Jungkook, hiding the sick feeling that spread across your face. You had to call her. If you didn’t call her back she would go to your place and ask so many questions. She didn’t have a key but she would still manage to get in.  Right after you just made that whole stink about Jungkook being on the phone earlier. 

You couldn’t ignore her. You have to call her back. 

She won’t let it go. 

Jungkook was worried for a second when you moved away from him so suddenly and now you were suddenly standing. 

“I’m so sorry.” Your voice is tense. “I need to take a call.” You hesitate before meeting his gaze. “It’ll just be a second—I need to step into the hall.”

Jungkook for a second almost doesn’t think about it but you just made a whole fuss about him taking a call. “Are you serious?” 

“I know.” You say quickly. “I know what I said.”

“Is this a joke?”

“No.” Your phone vibrates again. Another text.

Mom: I’ll be there in 30 minutes.

Shit.

“I’m sorry.” You say again, already moving. You weave around the couch, heading straight for the front door before Jungkook can protest.

You shove your feet into your shoes and step into the hall, needing somewhere private; somewhere your mom won’t hear even the faintest trace of Jungkook in the background.

The elevator.

You dial her number and you press the button for the elevator to go to the first floor. The phone on the other end ringing for what felt like forever in your ear. Feeling more and more sick to your stomach with each ring. Dreading hearing her voice on the other side.

The line picked up as you reached the first floor. “Baby!” Your mom’s voice bursts through the speaker, cheerful and chipper like she hadn’t just threatened to ambush you. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all day.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Yeah, I know. Mom, why are you going to my place right now?” A headache forming in the back of your mind. 

She sighs dramatically. “I miss you, baby. I’ve been gone for three months!”

“Yes Mom-...”

“And yet, you don’t even want to talk to your own mother?” Her voice shifts, just enough to press guilt into your ribs. Her saddened voice on the other end, hitting you in the same familiar place in your gut.

You exhale slowly, biting down the automatic frustration. If you say the wrong thing, she’ll cry. If she cries, you’ll have to go see her. “Of course I want to talk to you.” You say carefully. “I’d love to talk. But I’m busy.”

“Busy with what? Where are you?” Her interest clearly piqued that you could possibly have plans that had nothing to do with her.

“I’m out with some friends. Nothing special.” There is zero chance you’re mentioning Jungkook.

“Oh no, no, no. How many times have I told you those friends of yours are no good?” Her voice is all silk. “Come meet me somewhere instead.”

“How about I come see you later this week mom. I am busy with a work project but I’m all yours later this week…” You grit your teeth. You hope this might be enough and she hums on the other end. 

“All weekend?” She counters. “I get to have you all weekend? I just miss you, baby. And I have so many clothes from Europe that don’t fit me right—you’ll love them.” Typical. Dumping overpriced, ill-fitting designer pieces onto you so she doesn’t have to feel wasteful. 

“Yes. We can go through them together.” You nod to the air around you almost like she was here or that she could see you. Like the look on your face right now wouldn’t send her into an immediate spiral. 

“Oh, perfect! I’m so excited.” She cheers on the other end and it in some sick way brings a smile to your face. 

“Okay I really do have to go.” 

“Alright, baby. Call me tomorrow!” She sounds almost… normal. But you know better. If you don’t call tomorrow, she won’t let it go.

The moment the call disconnects, you sag against the elevator wall, pressing your palms to your face. Needing something to bring the anxiety that had welled up in your chest back down to a normal level. Your fingers tremble slightly, the weight of the conversation settling in like lead in your stomach.

This was such a bad time for your mom to be back in town. If she got even a whiff of your promotion, she’d find a way to turn it into something about her. And if she caught onto whatever this… thing was between you and Jungkook, she’d find a way to ruin it.

Maybe you should just sic her on Jungkook. That would send him running for sure.

In hindsight, if this were any other date, it would probably look bad. You had disappeared in the middle of the night, left without much of an explanation, and now, you were returning like nothing had happened. It felt messy, inconsiderate even. But everything with your mom is an emergency.

The problem is, you can’t say that.

With that thought, you start the slow walk of shame back to his apartment. The door is still unlocked from when you left, and as you step inside, the difference is immediate. The air feels stiff. The movie was stopped. The room is too quiet.  You slowly stepped further inside, Jungkook was leaning against his counter looking at something on his phone.

You hesitated, stepping inside and slipping off your shoes. "Sorry about that." You said quietly.

Jungkook doesn’t look up right away. "It’s… fine."

It isn’t.

Not really.

It’s obvious in the clipped way he says it, in the tension sitting in his shoulders. He’s irritated, trying not to show it, but you can feel it lingering between you.

And honestly? You get it.

You were the one who had made a big deal about him being on his phone earlier. You were the one who rolled your eyes at him answering a call, told him to be present. Then, the moment your own phone rang, you left the apartment with little word.

So yeah, you get it.

"It was just an emergency." You offer, though even you can hear how weak of an excuse it sounds.

Jungkook finally glances up then, dark eyes flicking to yours. "Right. Just a little frustrating though, don’t you think?"

Your stomach twists. "I know."

He exhales sharply, shaking his head as he sets his phone down on the counter. "I mean, you gave me so much shit about being on mine. Accused me of something you didn’t have any information about. Then you not only take your call—you leave the floor for it."

"I get it." You say quickly. "I do. And you’re right. It was hypocritical of me."

Jungkook studies you for a moment, expression unreadable. His voice is quieter when he speaks again. "Was there a reason you had to take your call downstairs?"

“What?” 

“Well I stepped into the hall to make sure everything was okay but you had totally fled the floor. What’s up?” Jungkook coming off even more defensive now

You freeze for a fraction of a second, caught off guard.

"I—" You start, before quickly regaining composure. "It was private."

Jungkook’s brows lift slightly. "And mine wasn’t?"

You inhale, feeling an edge of frustration creep in now, not necessarily at him, but at this entire situation. At how suddenly complicated something as simple as a movie night had become. How your mom had complicated a simple movie night. Something for your job.

Then you remember. This was for your job. The thing that got you into this situation, for one reason only…

So you switched gears "You were being really suspicious and weird about who you were talking to. Plus who even calls people anymore.” You say, keeping your voice measured.

Jungkook lets out an incredulous laugh. “You literally just took a call.”

“Yeah, but mine was an emergency,” You stress, as if that explains anything.

He narrows his eyes. “Oh, so when I answer my phone, I’m talking to some girl, but when you answer yours, it’s a crisis hotline?”

You shrug. “Correct.”

Jungkook pauses having to think about what was even going on before bouncing back, “Yours seemed much more like a call from another guy than mine seemed like a call from another girl.” Jungkook was frustrated but he was falling back on an old habit. He was falling into that old routine of finding an excuse to run. Except he couldn’t in this situation, so he needed to switch gears just like you. 

You let out a slow breath. Acting a little too casual for the situation at hand. "Maybe we call it a night, doesn’t seem like we will see eye to eye on this.” 

Jungkook doesn’t say anything for a moment, but eventually, he nods, stepping away from the counter. "Yeah." He mutters. "Probably for the best."

You don’t miss the way his voice shifts, slightly more closed off than before, and something about it stings more than you expect it to.

But you don’t say anything else.

Instead, you slip your other shoes back on, grab your things and leave. It wasn’t okay for him to just automatically assume that you were talking to another guy. Then again that's exactly how you started. It didn’t matter though, having this night go wrong actually helps. It helps push Jungkook away and maybe after tonight he might ghost you who knows. 

It would certainly make your article short but you could make a good narrative, losing a guy in 6 days. 

Still a small pang of guilt was eating at your stomach. Usually you would fight to explain yourself but you were doing your best to fight those normal instincts. This was the assignment, even if a part of you was actually starting to like Jungkook a little bit. He put in a lot of effort for just a few dates which was completely unexpected. 

Maybe in another life where you didn’t have to act insane.

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Taglist!: @vashimperial @httpjeonlicious @rinkud @vintagemoonsstuff @marimarvelfan @loomipee @leah-rose03 @irhdifartzamfyaa @tteokbokibyjk @thatbtssong @jungkooksmytype @baechugff @jk97bam @emplexia @jungkooknippleanddicksucker @parkinglot-nights @butnotmontana @goldentea10 @smwhrinthehaze @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs @whoa-jo @minyoongi7016 @jeoncasino @sadgirlroo @vialattea00 @haru-jiminn

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[no-phrogs-in-hats]

21 Days !NSFW!

Avenger!Agatha x Avenger!Reader

Word count: 10,435

Content warnings: MDNI; literally this oneshot is centered around sex and sex toys, sex ban, heavy smut, breeding kink (ofc), tummy bulge, size kink, mommy kink, lots of eye contact, reader gets fucked on a Steinway piano, crying kink, scissoring???but with a vibrator???, reader's blindfolded, hand holding, slight choking, a bit of overstimulation, squirting

Summary: With 3 weeks left until your wedding, Agatha comes up with a fun little idea for the both of you to refrain from any sexual activities until the wedding night.

A/N: Hi hi!! I have a bunch of stuff going on! I'm moving to Miami next weekend, so there will probably be one last oneshot posted after this. It'll be a part 2 to Snacks, Candy, and Prenatal Vitamins.

This is a really long oneshot. On Thursday I reread everything I wrote from the bachelorette party to the wedding and realized I hated all 3,565 words. So, I deleted them and rewrote it. It quite literally felt like I was writing this for 21 days. The things I do...Anyway I love you guys! Thank you so much for your support on everything, and I hope you enjoy! Also I’m making a tag list so lmk if you wanna be a part of it!

Spotify playlist here

Ao3 here

Masterlist here

Tag list: @sweetmidnights

3 weeks. 21 days. 30,240 minutes. 1,814,400 seconds.

You’ve had long weeks before, but these three weeks have been the absolute hardest of your very long life. When Agatha had proposed the idea to you, you were on board–excited even.

The last three weeks leading up to your wedding are supposed to be filled with nail appointments and last minute preparation.

Not this.

But, god, did you love the feeling and anticipation.

March 23, 2030

3 weeks before the wedding

It’s a quiet Saturday evening at your house in Westview–a stark contrast to the Tower back in New York City. Agatha slumps down on the couch beside you. She’s quiet. Too quiet. 

But you don’t acknowledge it. Instead, you continue to read your book in silence.  

She leans into you, resting her head on your shoulder. A deep sigh leaves her and you continue ignoring her. Her hand starts to run up and down your thigh and she sighs again.

You lower your book and turn your head, raising an eyebrow at her. “Can I help you?”

Agatha lifts her head and smiles. “You can, actually,” she says. And you note that mischievous look immediately. Her eyes narrow and you know she’s concocting a plan. “You know,” she says, hand patting your thigh, “our wedding is in three weeks…”

“Yes…and?”

“And,” she continues, “I was thinking we could have some fun with these last few weeks…”

She bites her lips and fingers trail over your shoulder, eyes looking you up and down. You set your book down on the side table and look at her suspiciously. “What kind of fun?”

Her voice is low and gravelly–that tone that always gets you going. “Well, maybe we could completely refrain from any se–”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” you say. “You won’t be able to last.”

She sits up straight, jaw dropped. “I won’t be able to last?” When you nod she scoffs. “Oh, okay. You won’t be able to last!” 

“Please!” you bluster. “I can last!”

Agatha rolls her eyes and crosses her arms, grinning. “After last night, I wouldn’t be so sure.”

You grab a pillow and start hitting her with it, laughing with her before she finally snatches it from you. You squeal and giggle, begging her to stop, and when she does, she immediately pins you down.

As you catch your breath, you huff out a laugh and she kisses you. “Just think about it,” she murmurs, leaning in close. “Three weeks. No sex. No masturbating–”

“No masturbating?” you cry.

“No masturbating,” she repeats and gives you a pointed look. “But, imagine…in three weeks. The anticipation. The excitement. After all the wedding revelry…getting to fuck you so hard that you almost pass out.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” You look at her, swishing your lips back and forth. “Sure, why not?” She kisses you again and you sigh. “So, no sex. No masturbating. What about making out?”

Agatha sits up, letting go of your hands but still straddling you. Her fingers trail down down your chest and underneath your shirt, nails lightly grazing your torso. “Hmmm…Yes. Making out is allowed. It’ll get us going even more.”

She downs, her grin nothing but sinister as you smile and shake your head, arms wrapping around her. “Oh, you are mean.”

“And you love it,” she murmurs.

“I do,” you sigh, receiving a kiss from her. “I really do.” As the soft kisses grow in intensity, you pull away and narrow your eyes. “So, does this start now, or at midnight?”

With no hesitation, she kisses you again. “Midnight. Absolutely midnight.”

“Oh, good,” you huff. “Let’s go upstairs. Now.”

Agatha stands and takes your hand, running up the stairs as you both laugh. Clothes are discarded on the way to your room–shirts on the stairs, pants and socks in the hallway, a bra here, underwear there. By the time you’re thrown onto the unmade bed, you’re both completely naked.

And by the time you’re done, it’s almost 9pm. You sigh contentedly as Agatha places kisses on your neck. Her weight on top of you is comforting, and your fingers trail up and down her arms as her kisses travel to your lips. 

Agatha lets out a pleased hum and then pulls away, just enough for your noses to brush. “What do you want to do for dinner?” she asks quietly, kissing you again.

“I think we just ate pretty good,” you say, giving her a sly grin. “Ow!” She pinches your hip hard and you laugh. “That hurt! It’s nine o’clock. What’s gonna be open, other than bars?”

Agatha leans over you on her side, resting on her elbow. She’s thinking hard and her hand rests on your torso, thumb stroking the skin softly. “You’re right, this isn’t New York City…”

“It’s not,” you agree. “It’s a very small town in New Jersey.”

“There’s a Taco Bell twenty minutes away,” she suggests.

You raise an eyebrow. “Taco Bell? Agatha, the last time you had Taco Bell while sober, you said it was gross and way too greasy.”

“No I didn’t!” she scoffs. “I like their…uhh…quesadillas.”

“Alright,” you say, looking at her suspiciously. You kiss her as you sit up and squeeze her hand. “I’ll go get cleaned up.”

The drive to Taco Bell is quiet. Agatha’s hand rests on your thigh as you drive, and when you’re about half-way there, you feel her eyes on you.

You turn your hand to glance at her. “What?” 

“I love you,” she says softly, turning her head to look out the windshield.

You glance at her again as her thumb strokes your thigh. “I love you too,” you mutter, cheeks flushing.

When you arrive at Taco Bell, Agatha groans. “Jesus Christ, why are there so many damn people? Is all of New Jersey here?”

The soft look she gave you in the car was completely gone now. You pull in her close by the waist with a comforting hand on her back as you stand in line. “We can always go through the Drive-Thru.”

“Hell no,” she mutters. “They always rush through and then get our order wrong.”

“It’ll be quicker,” you say. And when she relents, you drag her out of the store and back into the car. The Drive-Thru line isn’t as long as the line inside, and when the girl in the speaker gives you a couple minutes you look at Agatha. “Do you know what you want?”

She huffs, “The chicken bowl–no beans. They can’t screw that up, can they?”

“Be nice,” you hiss. When you get home, food in hand, Agatha goes straight upstairs and you follow.

In bed, with the TV on as background noise, you both eat your late dinner.

“Jen is getting on my last nerve,” Agatha says through a mouthful of food. “I’m this close to uninviting her from the wedding.”

“You’re not uninviting her, Agatha,” you say. “She’s been very helpful with the planning.”

The two of you sit side-by-side in bed with discarded Taco Bell on your nightstand, and your head on her shoulder as you watch TV. You have no idea what she turned on–some random thriller movie, maybe. Your mind wanders to all the years before–the ones you spent with her and the painful ones after you left her, how you met–and there’s one question on your mind.

“Agatha?” you say. “I have no clue how I went this long without asking you, b–”

“Probably because I have my tongue down your throat every opportunity I get,” she grins, eyes still on the TV. 

“Anyway,” you continue. “When I couldn't find you on the Titanic…where were you?”

“Sweetheart, I feel like you’ve known me long enough to know the answer to that,” she scoffs, her fingers running through your hair. “If I had known you were a witch too, I would’ve taken you with me. I only knew you for four days, though. I didn’t know if I could trust you. But even if I had asked, I know you would’ve stayed behind to help.”

“Yeah,” you mutter, and she kisses your head. You look up at her with a soft smile, but a teasing look in your eyes. “So, if you weren’t in a lifeboat, that means you were only on the Carpathia–”

“Shut up,” Agatha groans dramatically.

You smile brightly now, moving to straddle her hips. Your arms wrap around her neck and you kiss her. “You were only on the Carpathia because you wanted to make sure I was okay. Four days in and you were already–” “Yes,” she blurts out. “Okay? Yes. Four days in and I already cared about you. You’re not just useful for sex, okay?”

“Oh, how flattering, Miss Harkness,” you swoon before smiling and kissing her. “I still haven’t forgiven you for making me late with Madeleine Astor’s tea.”

“Oh, poor baby,” Agatha pouts, her voice condescending. “How can I ever make it up to you?”

You purse your lips, looking up as if you’re thinking hard. Your fingers trace over her shoulders and slip beneath her robe. Your voice is coy as your other hand plays with her hair, eyes avoiding her gaze. “Well…there’s less than an hour left until midnight, so maybe we can utilize the time wisely…”

Your eyelids flutter open against the morning sun and you groan, rolling over to face Agatha. Your arm drapes over her waist and your legs tangle with hers, and when you open your eyes again she’s still asleep–or so you thought.

Her eyes crack open and she gives you a sleepy smile. “I can feel you staring.”

“This is going to be the longest three weeks of my life,” you mumble before kissing her. You’re already aching after seeing her, and you end up straddling her waist. Placing small kisses on her neck, you groan, “How am I supposed to keep my hands to myself when you’re lying next to me naked, bathed in the morning light?”

You lift your head up and sigh dramatically, completely laying on top of her. Agatha’s voice is hoarse from sleep and her nails run up and down your back soothingly. “Not even ten hours in and you’re already caving.” 

“I’m not caving,” you say. “Just complaining. This is the worst idea you’ve ever had. And you’ve had a lot.”

Sunday morning goes by quickly and soon you’re on the road back to the Tower. 

“I wanna stop at the store on the way back,” Agatha says as she merges lanes to take the exit.

You let out an amused hum, not looking up from your phone. “Why? Are you getting a safe for our collection of sex toys?” Agatha doesn’t respond and you look up quickly, jaw dropping. “Oh, my god! Are you actually?” 

“Where else would we put them?” Agatha tries to reason. 

“I–Well…” You really didn’t have a clue. A whole drawer in your dresser is filled with them. And you know that if they’re not locked away, one of you will cave sooner or later. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

Inside Walmart, you mosey through an aisle that’s nothing but safes. “This is insane!” you gape. “A whole aisle of nothing but safes?” You lower your voice, leaning in towards Agatha. “Does everyone lock their sex toys away before their wedding?”

“No,” she sighs. “I think we’re the only ones kinky enough to do that.” Her eyes scan the shelves and she reaches for a decent sized box. “What about this one?”

As she looks over the product information on the box, you contemplate it. “I dunno…do you think it’s big enough?”

“Maybe,” Agatha says, looking up from the words to grin. “But if it’s not, I think some toys left out could make it even more enticing.” Her eyes get dark and her voice lowers. “You know how much I love seeing you squirm…”

Your cheeks get hot and your mouth opens to respond, but no words come out. Your jaw stiffens under Agatha’s amused look. “Let’s go,” you say, voice tight as you turn on your heel and walk away quickly.

“Why do you have a safe?”

In the lobby of Stark Tower, Natasha is leaving just as you’re both entering. Without blinking an eye, Agatha shrugs, saying, “No reason,” and keeps walking to the elevator. 

Upstairs, in your shared walk-in closet, Agatha unboxes the safe. 

You’re on your knees and you open the bottom drawer, meeting the numerous amount of sex toys in your collection. You sigh, shoulders drooping as you hand them to Agatha, a few at a time. “This is the most painful thing I’ve ever done.”

“Just think about the finish line,” she says in a sing-song voice, looking back at you with a smile. She pauses, her lips curling into that mischievous grin and her voice lowering into that seductive tone that always drives you crazy. “Oh, look at you…I just love it when you’re on your kne–”

“Stop it!” you cry, hitting her leg with one of the many vibrators in your collection as she laughs.

After a tedious game of Tetris, Agatha cheers. “Look at that! They all fit!” She shuts the safe and a loud beep sounds before the locking mechanism takes place. Agatha turns around, leaning against the dresser the safe is on. “We need to hide this pamphlet. It has the code on it.”

“Well, neither of us should hide it,” you say, standing up. “Then we’d know where it is. That would be cheating.”

She gasps and grins, slinking closer to you with her arms crossed. “You’re such a good girl when y–”

You cover your ears quickly, “La la la! I’m not listening!” You leave the closet and rush out of your bedroom with Agatha hot on your heels and laughing. “You need to stop that! Let’s go find Wanda.”

“Ugh, why Wanda?” Agatha groans as you get on the elevator.

As you press the button for the lounge, you sigh. “Well, she’s one of my closest friends, and I know she won’t ask questions.”

When the elevator doors open to the lounge, there are three other people with Wanda–the worst one being Tony as he narrows his eyes at the way you look nervous.

“What’s up?” he asks as the two of you walk over.

“Nothing!” you answer quickly–too quickly. “Wanda, can we talk with you…in private?”

Wanda looks around, “Um…yeah, I guess.”

The silence in the elevator is thick and awkward. When you arrive on her floor, she opens the door to her bedroom and Agatha wastes no time. “We need you to hide this manual.”

“What?” Agatha hands her the pamphlet and Wanda scrunches her nose, taking it and flipping through it. “Why do you need me to hide a safe manual?”

You and Agatha exchange looks and while she remains stone faced, you can’t help but look sheepish. “I don’t…wanna say,” you mutter.

Wanda narrows her eyes before a look of realization dawns on her, “Is it for–oh, my god. Are you…” She lowers her voice as if anyone would overhear her. “Are you locking up your sex toys?” she asks.

“Yes!” you blurt out, and Agatha rolls her eyes. “Yes, we are–we have. It’s until our wedding.” 

Wanda continues flipping through the manual, “So, is it like, a total sex ban–”

“I thought you said she wouldn’t ask questions,” Agatha says, arms crossed as she turns to you.

Wanda sighs, “Wow, I knew you guys were kinky, but this is–”

“Alright, we’re leaving now!” you pipe, and grab Agatha’s hand to pull her out of the room. “Come on! Let’s go!”

The first week goes by fairly quickly. Many times, you and Agatha found yourselves in petty arguments with each other. And it was even noticed one night at a team dinner.

“Can you pass me the salt?” you ask her, and when she does, she only passes the salt by itself–leaving the pepper by itself. “You didn’t pass the pepper too.”

“You didn’t ask for the pepper,” Agatha says.

“It doesn’t matter,” you argue, dropping your fork on the plate with a clatter.. “The salt and pepper should always stay together!” Multiple team members stop their conversations and turn towards you. “We’ve known each other for 118 years! I’ve told you this so many times!” Your voice starts to rise with each word that follows. “You always keep the troops together!”

And later that night, as if you weren’t just arguing in front of everyone over something so stupid, you find yourself in bed, straddling her lap. Your hands roam one another as you kiss her hard, chests heaving and fingers digging into skin. 

“This is the worst–” You kiss her. “–Fucking idea–” Another kiss. “–You’ve ever had.”

Agatha breathes heavily in your mouth as she chuckles, “Oh, please, you can’t tell me you’re not enjoying this.”

She kisses you softly and you shiver beneath her touch. “I need you to touch me,” you breathe. “I need you to touch me so badly.”

Her fingers creep up your thighs and you whimper as she kisses the corner of your mouth. You can practically feel yourself drip into your underwear as you beg under your breath, “Please, please, please…”

Her fingers dip beneath the hem of your pajama pants, very lightly swiping over your underwear. “Ohh…” Her voice is low and raspy. “A little bit of kissing and you’re already this wet. This is so fun.”

Your head drops onto her shoulder as your arms fold in between you and you whine. “This is the worst.” You sit up as she removes her hand, and you huff. But there isn’t anger or frustration in your eyes. No, it’s sadness and desperation, and you pout as she giggles. “This is the absolute worst. I’m going to take a cold shower.” And before Agatha can even speak you glare at her, “And no, you cannot join me.”

And it wasn’t just you that was suffering. 

“Why did I wanna do this?” Agatha groans one night. You’re both in the bathroom doing your nightly routines–only this time, Agatha is standing beside you as you wash your face, ranting about the entire thing with dramatic hand gestures. “This was so stupid! All I want to do is have sex with you, but I can’t!”

“Well, technically–”

“No!” she snaps. “We’re not going to break this streak! We’ve been doing so well.”

You pat your face dry and when those words leave her mouth, you start grinning. You look at her with the soft, pleading eyes that you usually would when begging. 

Agatha looks at you, nostrils flared and her eyes ablaze. “Don’t,” she mutters dangerously.

“Have I been doing good for you, Mommy?” you ask, your voice syrupy sweet as you get closer. “Have I been a good gi-”

“I’m going to start smoking again!” Agatha calls back as she rushes out of the room.

“No, you are not!” you shout, running after hert.

“Yes, I am!”

“Agatha Harkness!” you say, hands on your hips as she lays face down on the bed. “There’s two weeks left! And if I catch you smoking again, I’ll glue myself to your hip so you can’t go anywhere without me!”

When you get a response, Agatha doesn’t lift her head, instead choosing to mumble whatever words into her pillow.

Yes, the first week and a half have been hard, but the second half might as well be torture. 

There are eight days left. Eight. 

You run through every floor in the Tower. You tear apart the entire kitchen, look in every pot and pan, tupperware containers, anywhere that manual could be. You even check in the strangest places–Tony’s lab, every bathroom you have access to, the lobby, you even went into the elevator and removed a panel so you could climb in and see if she hid it there (she didn’t).

In your desperation, you were even searching your own room, hoping that somehow Wanda hid it there. You check in your bedside drawers, in your bathroom cabinets, underneath the clothes in your dressers, and while in the closet you even tried opening the safe with magic.

Now, you’re under your bed, legs sticking out as you search through shoe boxes and plastic bins of out-of-season clothes. 

“Hiya, hon.”

Startled, you crack your head on the boards of the bed frame. “Son of a bitch!” You flip over onto your back and scooch out from under the head. “Hi. I didn’t think you’d be home so soon.”

Agatha stands over you, head tilted and arms crossed as she looks at you curiously. “Mhm…whatcha doin’?”

“I–Um…” You stand up, rubbing the spot on your head you hit. “Nothing–”

“You were looking for the manual, weren’t you?” she asks, narrowing her eyes.

You gasp, “No, I was not! How could you accu–yes. I was looking for the manual.” You watch as she shakes her head slowly and grins, and then her tongue pokes into her cheek. You rush forward, voice shaking, “You don’t understand, Agatha.” Your hands grip her shoulders and the desperation in your voice is loud. “I’m ovulating! You know how I get! I tried opening the safe with magic and it didn’t work!”

Agatha nods her head, “I know. I had Wanda put a spell on it when you went out to lunch with Steve and Nat yesterday.”

You whimper, head ducking into her chest as your hands grip her shoulders tighter. “I’m going insane, Aggie!” you cry. 

Agatha takes both of your hands and removes them from her shoulders, placing kisses on both of them. You look up at her with pleading eyes and she giggles. “It’s only for eight more days.”

“I cannot last in these conditions,” you whine. Your hands slip from her grasp and cup her cheeks. You kiss her hard. “I need you to fuck me,” you beg, kissing her again. When you pull away, your teeth are clenched in frustration. “I need you to fuck a baby into me. Ruin me, Agatha. Please!”

Agatha reaches up to hold your wrists and kisses you softly. When she pulls away, she pouts in a condescending way. “Poor thing.” She reaches for your cheek and pats it twice. “You’ll survive.”

She drops her arms and walks past you as your jaw drops. While walking towards the bathroom, her hips swaying more than usual, she looks back at you with dark eyes. “I’m gonna go take a bath if you’d like to join me.”

You close your eyes and sigh before following her, completely defeated. “Okay…”

After that day, you calmed down–until the time to pack for your honeymoon came. After Wanda lifts the spell on the safe, she leaves immediately and Agatha opens it. You almost cry from the sight of your sex toys alone. It’s like you found the world's greatest treasure–like the sinful gates of Heaven were finally opening for you.

Agatha eyes you as she takes them out. “Don’t even think about it.”

“How can I not think about it?” you whine. You stand beside her, fingers trailing over her shoulder and arm as you look up at her with pleading eyes. “Please?” you ask quietly. “You don’t even have to let me finish…I just want to feel th–”

“No.”

“Please, Agatha!” you cry. “It doesn’t even have to be one of the fancy ones! A bullet! A wand! I just need to feel something!”

“Nope.” She doesn’t even look up at you as she opens the suitcase. “Definitely need to take the good strap,” she mumbles to herself. “Baby, which ones do you wanna take?”

“Surprise me,” you scowl, her back still turned to you.

Agatha looks back at you. “Don’t give me that attitude,” she scoffs. “There’s less than 48 hours left, and if you keep this up, it won’t be good for you. Now, pick out your vibrators for our honeymoon, sweetheart.”

The bachelorette party on Friday comes quickly. It’s small, with only seven of you there at your house in Westview. Tony supplied the extensive amount of alcohol while Alice, Jen, and Lilia planned the decorations, and Wanda and Natasha planned the activities. Neither you or Agatha had any part in planning. Your only job is to show up and look pretty–and the two of you do that very well.

You watch Agatha as she gets ready, and when she slips on the dress you chose for her, your jaw drops.

“Close your mouth, darling,” Agatha says, catching your eye in the mirror. “You’ll catch flies.” She turns around and you look her up and down, sighing heavily. She grins, slinging closer towards you. “24 hours, sweetheart. Be patient.”

With a kiss to the corner of your mouth, she slips out of the bathroom. On your shared bed there are two white sashes, both with the word ‘Bride’ on them.

Agatha scrunches her nose up at them. “Do we really have to wear these?”

“Jen and Wanda were very insistent on it,” you say, standing behind her and wrapping your arms around her waist. You let go and pick one of them up, draping over Agatha’s headband adjusting it. “There!” you chirp. “See? You look so cute!”

“It’s tacky,” she deadpans.

“Just wear it,” you say.”It’s just one night, and I’m wearing one too.”

When you get downstairs, you’re met with cheers and party noisemakers. Pink decorations fill the house and Agatha takes a deep breath, looking at you and then back to the coven. “Really? All pink?”

“It’s not a bachelorette party without tacky, pink decorations,” Alice says.

In the living room, you pick up an open bottle of chardonnay, pouring yourself and Agatha a glass. She takes it with a kiss on your cheek and follows you as you sit down on the couch.

Laughter drowns out whatever music is playing. You’re several rounds into a drinking game, giggling into Agatha’s shoulder. “In her defense,” you say, catching your breath, “neither of us knew the other was a witch.”

“She abandoned you on a sinking ship!” Wanda gawks. 

“I would have stayed anyway,” you shrug. “It was my job to help people.”

“I can’t believe we didn’t know you met on the Titanic,” Alice says, shaking her head in disbelief. “Now, it makes sense. They’re trauma bonded.”

Natasha sits up, taking a sip of her drink. “Not to change the subject, but I’ve been meaning to ask you two…” she says. Her eyes narrow with curiosity as she looks at you and Agatha. “Why have you two been so on edge recently? I know you bicker, but it’s been a lot worse.”

Wanda bursts out laughing and you and Agatha make eye contact, trying your best to hold in your giggles as the rest of them exchange weird looks. Your finger traces the rim of your glass and you sigh. “We’ve…been on a three week long sex ban in preparation for tomorrow night.”

Jen chokes on her drink and Nat’s eyes widen.

“You know that safe you saw us carrying?” Agatha grins. “It was for our sex toys.”

“So…” Nat looks around, choosing her words carefully. “You’ve been irritated…because neither of you were getting laid…voluntarily?”

“Yep,” Agatha says simply.

Nat points beside her to Wanda. “And…she was…in on it?”

“Yes,” you chirp. “She hid the safe manual so we couldn’t get the code until last night. Where did you hide it?”

“Oh, I threw it away,” Wanda says.

You sit up quickly. “You threw it away?”

“Yeah.”

“I climbed into the elevator shaft looking for it,” you gawk. “And this whole time, it’s been in a landfill?”

Lilia takes a sip of her wine and leans in toward Jen, her voice quiet, “They are so much worse than we thought.”

As the night progresses and you and Agatha cut yourselves off from drinks, you grow more and more tired–and so does Agatha. As you doze off on her shoulder, she shakes you awake. “Do you wanna go to bed?”

You look at your phone, and when you see it’s almost three in the morning you get up. She takes your hand and when the others see you leaving to go to bed, you get the drunken teasing.

“Big day tomorrow!”

“Harkess needs her beauty sleep!”

In your bedroom, you flop down onto the bed, groaning.

Agatha turns on the bathroom light, retrieving a pack of makeup wipes and returning to your room. “Come on,” she says, straddling your hips and pulling off your fake lashes. “I know you’re sleepy, but you need to take your makeup off.” She brings the cold wipe to your face, rubbing it over your cheeks. And before she removes your eyeshadow, she leans in close, muttering, “Close your eyes.”

She finishes with a kiss to your lips, but you don’t pull away, instead pulling her closer. When she breaks away, she feels your hands sneak under her dress and she giggles, sitting up and sliding off you. “Nice try. You have less than 24 hours.”

You groan again and she hands you a pair of pajamas. You begrudgingly put them on and brush your teeth, and when Agatha’s finished with her nightly routine, she tucks you into bed with a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll be in the spare bedroom tonight. I love you.” And with a final kiss on your lips, she shuts off the light and closes the bedroom door.

As tired as you are, sleep doesn’t come easily. But when it does, it leaves you groggy and with cotton mouth when you wake up–or, in this case, are woken up. A loud knock on the door stirs you, and before you can properly wake up, Wanda and Natasha are piling through with breakfast–or brunch–with Tony following behind, holding two bottles of champagne.

You sit up, rubbing your eyes. When you tap your phone, the time shows noon. “Jesus, how are you two awake? You were wasted and up longer than I was.”

“It’s your wedding day!” Wanda chirps, handing you a latte that has the logo from your favorite coffee shop on the cup. “Here, we don’t want you being sloppy drunk tonight.”

But beside her, Natasha wears a pair of sunglasses while stirring a bloody mary with a piece of celery. Tony sets down one of the bottles of champagne on your dresser. 

“The car will be here to pick you and Harkness up at three. That’ll give everyone setting up the after-party here enough time before you’re back,” he says. “And I got you two the presidential suite at the Four  Seasons–it’s cute, it overlooks Central Park. It’s like fifteen minutes from LaGuardia so you don’t have to get up too early tomorrow.”

Wanda wiggles her eyebrows at you and you glare at her, mouthing, “Shut up.”

“After the ceremony,” Tony continues, “I’m gonna head over there and check you in. Wanda’s already given me your luggage, so everything’s taken care of.”

When he leaves to relay the same information to Agatha down the hall, Wanda opens the curtains to your room. The light pours in, illuminating the protective bag holding your wedding dress. Your chest flutters thinking about it. 118 years and it’s finally happening–from sinking ships, to wrongful sacrifices, and a test of trust on the Road, you’ve made it out unscathed. You’ve made it out together.

The three hours of showering and hair and makeup go by quickly. You stand before a cheval mirror. The clock on the wall ticks loudly and your eyes drift up to it. Two-forty five.

You take a deep breath, but it’s all so much. Emotions flood your senses, and as you look at yourself, you can’t help but feel like the most beautiful person in the world. Flowers dot your hair, adding a pop of color against the white dress. It’s simple and lightweight, with a square neckline showing off the diamond necklace that Agatha gifted you almost a century ago.

Wanda opens the bedroom door and Natasha followers her out. In the hallway, you can hear Jen, “She’s ready.”

Your heart races.

You hear the sound of heels on the old wooden floors.

“Hi.”

But the anxiety that filled your chest dissipates upon seeing her in the reflection of the cheval mirror. It’s replaced with nothing but anticipation and love, and for a moment you’re brought back to the forward deck of the Carpathia.

You turn around and your breath is taken away when you see her entirely. “Hi.”

Agatha wears a white romper. Beneath the pristine white blazer, the top dips below her chest and a white band separates it from the loose, flowing bottoms. She’s stunning. Absolutely, unequivocally beautiful.

She crosses her arms, leaning against the door frame and grinning. “Well? Give me a twirl, princess.”

Smiling, you give her a slow twirl. Agatha walks over and she stops just short of you. When you’re facing her again, her hands go to your waist, fingers brushing the exposed skin of your back. She looks so up and down, and smiles brightly. “Absolutely breathtaking.”

“I want to kiss you so badly,” you breathe, glancing at her lips and back up.

She hums. “Soon, darling.”

Your hand slides into the crook of her elbow and she escorts you out of the room. As you approach the landing of the stairs, the coven, Wanda, and Nat all look up at you in awe.

“Oh, my god!” 

“Look at them!”

“I think I’m gonna cry.”

After rounds of hugs are given, the five of them leave ahead of you just as the car arrives. Agatha helps you in and you slide all the way over. As you look out the window, your hands link in the middle seat and the feeling eases the nervousness in your stomach.

The venue is quaint. You stand side by side with Agatha in a hallway of marble and pastels. Both of you look out the french doors at the guests in the small garden who face away from you. There are barely twenty people, but every single one sitting there has impacted your life in a different way. 

“Any last-minute confessions?” Agatha grins.

“I’ve had three glasses of champagne and I’m starting to feel them,” you whisper, rushing through your words.

“I’ve had four.”

Your eyes close and you let out a relieved sigh. “Oh, thank god.” 

Agatha turns to look at you, smiling softly as she adjusts your necklace. “Are you ready?”

As she positions herself by your side, you slide your hand into the crook of her elbow and sigh. “Yeah…you?”

She turns her head, looking down at you, “Since 1912.”

Your head turns quickly to look at her, and you see every ounce of adoration and affection she has for you in her eyes. There’s so much weight in her gaze and you can see every year and every moment you were together–and every moment you were apart. Those 30-odd years hang in the tears she holds back, mingling with the contentment and the happiness that swells in her chest. 

118 years. 43,070 days. 6,152 weeks. 62,062,006 minutes. 3,723,720,336 seconds.

And she would go through them all again.

And so would you.

Your throat tightens and your hand squeezes her arm. You turn your head back towards the door, blinking away tears as the guests stand and the small quartet begins to play. “Okay.”

The french doors leading to the garden open and you’re both bathed in the evening light of sunset. You give her arm one last squeeze, and then with a deep breath, you take the first step.

__________

The car ride back to your home in Westview is less than an hour. With photos and actually signing your marriage license, you’re the final ones to arrive at the reception. When you walk inside, the smell of all different types of food waft in from the kitchen and your stomach growls.

“It’s quiet,” you say.

“Thank god,” Agatha mutters, and you nudge her in the side. “Oh, look, wedding presents!” She practically drags you into the dining room when she sees the pile on the table.

“Come on!” you sigh, and you take her hand. When you open the patio doors and step out in the cool evening air, you’re met with cheering. Out of the corner of your eye you catch Agatha smiling–actually smiling, ear-to-ear.

There’s about twenty more people at the reception than there were at the ceremony. As you look around at your backyard–the decorations, the warm lights, the tables, the firepit–you’re glad Agatha insisted on having the backyard renovated.

Hugs are exchanged all around, and Agatha even tolerates it this time around. When you hand her a glass of champagne, she downs it all almost immediately.

“There’s a lot of people here,” she mutters.

“You don’t have to talk to all of them,” you muse. “But you do have to sign the thank you cards.”

Music blares through the speakers as people dance and drink. At one of the tables, you sit with Agatha, laughing with Lilia and two other guests when Jen comes over and ducks her head to speak to you. “Alice just got back.”

“Where the fuck has she been?” Agatha retorts, the numerous shots she took at ‘shot o’clock’, as Billy called it, in full effect.

“She has 250 jello shots,” Jen says quietly, “and 250 pudding shots.”

“She’s forgiven,” Agatha shrugs.

And sure enough, Alice walks through the back gate carrying a blue cooler. She sets it down beside the table where at least thirty bottles of open liquor and mixers, cans of sodas, water bottles, and a hundred bottles of beer sit in an ice bath. You and Agatha get up immediately, Jen following behind you as you go over to Alice.

“Holy shit!” Agatha beams. “Did you make all of these?”

Alice huffs, hands on her hips. “Yep. I had some help from Jen and Lilia, though.”

Looking through the cooler, there’s an array of jello colors, and all different kinds of pudding flavors. You take a handful of them for yourself and Agatha looks at you, appalled. “You gonna share any of those, hon?”

You look back in the cooler, contemplating it. “Mm…No. You’ve got plenty left, honey.”

With Lilia and the two other women at the table gone, the two of you are by yourself. You try to get each jello and pudding shot down as quickly as possible, but you end up laughing as you swallow a jello shot. You start coughing, tears starting to form in your eyes as you laugh more.

Agatha’s hand comes to your back as you wipe your mouth and take a drink of water. You drunkenly giggle as she opens another jello shot and holds it up to your newly open one. “Here’s to us…” Her eyes get dark and her lips curl into that grin she gives you when only dirty thoughts enter her mind. “...And here’s to what you’ll be choking on later.”

Your cheeks go hot and your eyes are wide as you down the last jello shot.

As the night progresses, it becomes chilly. Your arms are covered in goosebumps as you stand beside Agatha, talking to a few guests. When her hand runs up and down your arm she pauses her words and looks down at you. “Jesus, hon, you’re freezing.”

“No, I’m not!” you protest. “I’m fine!”

“I would be a terrible wife to let you freeze to death at your own wedding,” she huffs. “Here.” She takes her own blazer off and practically forces it on you. It’s just slightly too big on you and she goes behind you, hands rubbing up and down on your arms as she continues talking to the people in front of you.

“This is your favorite song,” she gasps in your ear. “Do you wanna go dance?”

“Sure,” you chirp, letting her drag you to the makeshift dance floor where other people are.

One hand goes to your waist while the other grasps your hand. You smile as you place your hand on her upper back, dancing to the upbeat music. She spins you and holds you tightly, and you can feel her fingers slip underneath the blazer and graze over your exposed back. Her lips brush your ear and her voice is low, “You have no idea how happy I was when I saw you picked out a low-cut back.”

“I knew you’d like it,” you respond, your voice quiet and breathy.

“I don’t just like it, sweetheart,” she hums. “I love it. You know damn well how much I love your back.”

You laugh quietly, shivering beneath her touch as her nails scratch lightly over your back. “You’ll get to see plenty of it after this, I promise.”

Around eleven, with the majority of the party drunk–including you and Agatha–Tony pauses the music, standing up on a chair and hollering. “I want to give a brief toast.” He scratches his eyebrow and raises his glass. “I just want to say an official ‘welcome to the family’ for Agatha, and that anyone who can stay together for 118 years, give or take, is the pinnacle of true love–which is disgustingly sappy, but it’s true. Here’s to the brides and the many more years of happiness to come.”

Midnight is approaching when a small group has the brilliant idea to go to Taco Bell. But Agatha, in her drunken state, has been teasing you all night, and vice versa.

They were only little touches, hands on waists, brushes of fingers on backs, pecks on the lips and cheeks, even those looks across the yard as you talk to talk to someone got to you. And now, every moment of desperation from the past three weeks is catching up with you.

When you decline, you bid everyone goodnight and have Tony call you a car for the forty minute drive to the hotel. With hotel room keys in Agatha’s clutch, you’re almost pushed into the car by her, drunkenly laughing as she follows. You have to cross your legs with how turned on you are. These three weeks have been the most brutal of your life, and to make it worse, Agatha sits beside you in the middle seat and her hand slips underneath the skirt of your dress.

Her fingers trail up your thigh and she leans over, skimming her lips over your neck. You can feel your pulse quicken and whisper under your breath, “Agatha, we are not alone yet.”

“And when has that stopped us before?” she mutters. She removes her lips from her neck and sits back, but her fingers don’t leave. Her eyes watch as you try to focus on the passing scenery outside, but it’s so fucking hard. 

Agatha grins as you lean against the door. Her fingers move higher and higher and she can see you beginning to tremble. She never gives you want, instead opting to tease you just over your white lace panties. She applies just enough pressure for you to gasp and shut your eyes. 

Agatha does this for the entire ride, on and off touches, teasing you mercilessly until you finally pull up to the hotel entrance. After tipping the chauffeur extra, you both stumble out of the car, giggling as you rush into the hotel. Agatha is on top of you as soon the elevator doors close and the 51st floor button is pressed.

“I can’t wait to get you in that fucking room. I’m going to absolutely ruin you,” she huffs into your mouth, hands gripping your waist tightly underneath the blazer you’re still wearing.

When the elevator dings and the doors open on your floor, you’re pushed out with Agatha still flush against you. The door to the suite is slammed shut and Agatha throws the room key and her clutch on the floor before pushing you against the wall.

With her lips on your neck, you open your eyes and catch yourself in the mirror. You’re a complete mess: red lipstick is smeared down your throat, your hair is falling from the pins, and the shoulder of the dress and blazer have fallen down. Your eyes drift to the rest of the room as Agatha bites at your skin and you gasp.

Expensive, plush sofas, and leather armchairs surround a fireplace and a flat screen TV. Behind it, a ten-feet-tall bay window made entirely of glass overlooks Central Park with a breakfast nook, and a glass door next to it leads to one of the outdoor terraces. The floors are deep brown–almost black–made of African wenge and ebony wood. It’s by far the nicest room you’ve ever been in.

“Oh, my god,” you breathe. “Look at this–fucking room.”

Agatha stands up straight, taking your face in her hand and forcing you to look her in the eyes. “We could be in Buckingham fucking Palace right now, and the only thing I’d want to look at is you.”

You glance at her lips and back up at her eyes, sighing. “God, that was so fucking hot.” She kisses you hard and drags her lips down your throat. With your head turned to the side to give her more access, your eyes widen as they land on the grand piano in the center of the room. “Holy shit!” you breathe. “That’s a Steinway!” 

Agatha kisses back up your throat and kisses you softly, hand coming to cup your chin. She makes deep eye contact with you, her voice low and gravelly. “I’ll fuck you on that Steinway if you want, I promise. But for now, I’m going to need you to focus, baby.”

You’re breathless and you nod lightly.

“Can you do that for Mommy?” she asks. Her voice is calm, but the tone and her eyes make you feel like a child being scolded.

“Yes,” you say.

“Yes,” she repeats slowly, and kisses you lightly. “I know you can be good for me.”

You nod again and keep eye contact as she sinks to her knees. Your breathing gets heavier as she bunches your skirt up, having you hold it as she kisses up your thighs and pulls down your underwear. The sound of her moaning at the sight of you alone has you clenching around nothing.

Agatha looks up at you, mouth hovering over your cunt as you tremble. “I’ve fucking missed this pussy,” she moans.

The feeling of her mouth on you again is indescribable. The slightest touch of her tongue against your clit sends you spiraling. And when she slips two fingers inside, you moan and she gasps, eyes peering up at you. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this fucking wet for me before.”

You can’t even respond as your head falls back onto the wall with a thud. Her fingers and tongue work in tandem, and in less than ten minutes, with one of your legs thrown over her shoulder, you’re shaking uncontrollably.

“Agatha, I–!” You choke on your words, grasping her hair as you lean forward. “I can’t stand–I’m gonna–fuck–I’m gonna fall over–!”

She removes her mouth and fingers from your pussy, and stands up to kiss you. Her hands come to your thighs and lift you easily, her mouth against yours as she carries you across the room. You have no clue where she’s taking you–until there’s a loud, unpleasant sound of piano keys.

When you pull away, you’re exactly where you think–the Steinway piano. Your hand braces yourself on the keys beside you, making another, sharper sound. Your other hand grips her shoulder as she kisses your neck and her fingers slide right back into you. 

Your nails dig into her skin as you gasp, “Oh, my god, you’re fucking me on a Steinway.”

“I am,” she huffs against your lips, grinning as her fingers keep working. “I make good on my promises, don’t I? And I promised to fuck you until you almost pass out.”

You moan loudly into her kiss. The pleasure is so intense–three weeks of nothing is catching up quickly. Your hips start to grind against her hand, and when her palm presses against your clit, tears quickly fill your eyes and you cry out. You sob out incoherent words, your mind melting into nothing but mush as it gets exactly what it wants after three weeks.

Mascara streaks your cheeks as you start trembling beneath her and crying into her mouth. “Oh, my god–! Fuck, Mommy! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Yes!”

The hand holding your skirt to your hip lets go and grips your jaw. “Open your eyes,” she demands, and you obey. “Look at me.” With her eyes on yours, her face is stone cold and you whimper. “You wanna cum don’t you? I can feel it.” 

You nod and she leans in close, fingers moving faster as you sob. Her voice is stern and has a deep tone of authority to it. “You don’t need permission. Not tonight. I want you to give Mommy every single fucking drop. Do you understand?” You nod quickly and she grips your cheeks tighter. “Ah, ah. No. I need words, baby. Do you understand?”

“Yes!” you sob. “Yes, Mommy! Yes!”

“Good girl!” she praises, voice raising over your cries. “I want you to cum for me now. You can do it! Cum for me!”

You had never felt pleasure like this. The tears, your throat raw from screaming, the feeling of her hands finally on you again, the sound of the piano keys ringing out as your hands find somewhere to be–it’s all so much, and it’s all so good.

Your legs lock around Agatha’s hips as you shake, and she looks down at you like you’re her whole world–and in a way, you are. “There she is!” she smiles. “That’s my good girl!”

Your legs tremble as she fucks you through the aftershocks, clinging to her tightly as you catch your breath. Her lips press hard against yours and each kiss gets lighter and lighter until they’re barely brushing against yours. 

“I think–that was–” You take a deep breath and she kisses you again. “–the best–orgasm–you have ever fucking given me.”

You both laugh into each other’s mouths, kissing softly as you carefully step down from your seated position on the piano keys. As she walks you backwards, her hands strip you of her blazer, tossing it aside on a leather armchair and starting to unbutton the back of your dress. 

“Why are these buttons so fucking small?” she seethes.

You can feel her struggling and giggle against her, “Getting frustrated, Mrs. Harkness?”

“If you didn’t look so damn good in this dress, I’d rip it right off of you,” she huffs.

You almost fall through the bedroom door when she opens it. You stop to shrug off your dress and remove your heels and necklace. And when you toss everything aside, you practically jump on her. She squeals into the kiss, both of you giggling as she backs you against the bed and pushes you down onto the mattress. 

When Agatha stands, she hovers over you, running her hands over the lace of your lingerie top. She groans, devouring you with her eyes, “Fuck, look at you. You’re irresistible.”

She slips off her heels and slots her knee in between your legs, leaning down to kiss you hard. Her hands reach around her back, trying to undo the zipper on her romper. She pulls away from the kiss, frustrated. “Dammit!” Her arms contort at different angles as you start laughing. “Can you help me, please?”

She turns around to let you unzip her but you struggle. “I think it’s stuck.

“Well, pull harder,” Agatha huffs.

“It’s still not–” You pull the zipper harder. “Come on–There!”

Agatha quickly pulls off the romper and unclips her bra, tossing it aside somewhere along with her underwear. Anticipation bubbles up through laughter as you move further up the bed on your hands and knees. Right as you make it to the pillows, her hand grabs your ankle and you squeal, giggling as you fall to your stomach. 

When you flip yourself over, Agatha is slowly crawling towards you. Her kisses drift from your calves, up to your thighs, and stop at the apex. She drags her tongue through your folds, up your mound and over your navel, all the way up past your sternum, up your throat, and stopping in your mouth. You moan when you taste yourself on her tongue, hips lifting to seek any amount of friction.

“You are insatiable,” she muses.

“We’ve been refraining from sex for the past three weeks,” you say, hands on her cheeks. “I want you to fuck me on every surface in this suite.”

Agatha kisses you before getting out of bed. Your luggage sits in the corner and she crouches down, digging through clothes before she finds one of the wand vibrators. She stays for just a few seconds longer, and when she turns around, there’s a strip of black satin dangling from her fingers. 

She comes closer and closer, each step slow and sensual. There’s a knowing smirk on her face–the one that reads: ‘You’re about to receive the best fucking of your life.’ And when she gets back into bed, she leans in close, her voice soft. “Color?”

“Green,” you breathe

Agatha kisses you softly and looks deep in your eyes, her look more sober now. “If any of this gets too much, use your safeword. Okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper.

“I love you,” she says, kissing you again before setting the vibrator down and straightening the piece of fabric. Her voice is soft but commanding, and it sends a chill down your spine. “Sit up.”

You obey, like you always do–mostly–and she leans in with the satin, placing it over your eyes and tying it in the back. She guides you back down onto the pillows and leaves you with a kiss on your forehead. You’re shaking now from the anticipation of it all and her hands slide down your ribs and over your torso. 

“You’re trembling,” she says. “Take a deep breath. Relax.” You do and she lets out a satisfied hum. “Good girl.”

Your skin feels like it's on fire as Agatha’s hands go over every inch. Her fingers trace up and down your sternum before untying the front of your lingerie and letting it fall open. 

“Oh, yes,” she breathes. “Gods, you are fucking beautiful.”

Her fingers graze over your nipples and you arch your back into her touch. She chuckles and sits up, reaching for the vibrator before opening your legs wide. All of your senses are magnified. Your ears listen for every sound–the rustling of the duvet, the sound of her breathing, and now, the sound of the vibrator buzzing.

You take a deep breath and when you exhale it comes out as a moan. The vibrator is pressed to your clit. You arch your back, grasping at the pillow beneath your head, and then you feel her situate herself on top of you. 

Agatha lets out a deep breath as you feel her own weight press the vibrator harder onto you. “Hold this,” she says, and takes your left hand, forcing the wand into it. Her own left hand clasps your right, pinning it above your head as she rocks her hips and steadies herself over your throat.

She squeezes lightly, leaning in close enough that you’re huffing into each other’s mouths. She reaches down and turns the vibrations up, and when you whine, she smiles. Her hand goes to your forehead, pushing back the stray hair that clings to your skin. “I know, baby,” she coos. “But you look so fucking pretty like this.”

You match her pace, grinding against the vibrator and holding onto her hand tightly. You wish you could see Agatha like this–how her hair gets frizzy in the heat, the feral look in her eyes when you’re shaking beneath her. You cry out as you feel her starting to tremble above you, moans becoming louder with yours.

Convulsing beneath her, she’s breathless as she holds you down by your chest. “Keep it right there,” she huffs.  “Mommy wants to cum all over you.”

The overstimulation of the vibrator on you is quickly becoming too much, but just enough to start becoming pleasurable again. Your hips start rocking against it again and she huffs out a lugh. “Are you gonna cum again?”

“Yes!” you sob.

She smiles, panting above you. “Do you wanna cum with Mommy?” 

“Yes! Yes, yes yes! Please, Mommy!”

Your nails leave indents in the back of her hand as she raises her voice, her praises stern and authoritative. “That’s it, baby! Come on! Cum with Mommy!”

You finish for a third time, tears running down your temples and soaking the blindfold as Agatha collapses on top of you. With the vibrator off and her hand still in yours, you lay there with her on top of you, both of you catching your breath. 

When your breath returns, you slowly feel the kisses on your neck begin again. Her tongue drags up the side of your neck and back to your mouth. With the blindfold still on, she sits you up, holding you against her tightly. 

Your hands wander down Agatha’s body, grabbing at her skin blindly until your fingers find her clit and circle it slowly. She sighs into the kiss and your fingers slip inside her, slowly curling until they come to a steady rhythm. Her hips move with your fingers, forehead against yours as she moans into your mouth. 

“Keep going,” she huffs. “You’re doing so fucking good for Mommy.”

It doesn’t take long for her to finish, almost screaming your name as she gushes in your hand, trembling against you. Agatha kisses you hard and pushes you back down onto the pillows. 

“I was gonna save this for when we get to the Maldives,” she sighs, getting out of bed and going over to the suitcase. “But you’ve just been so good for me these past few weeks” She looks over her shoulder at you, catching you tilting your head back to peek through the blindfold. “Ah, ah! No peeking! Bad girls don’t get rewards.”

You groan, relaxing back into the bed. Your ears tune into the sounds of clicking and straps adjusting, and your heart races knowing exactly what’s coming. Hands run over the inside of your thighs, parting them wide. 

“You’ve been so good for me,” Agatha drawls. “I know these past few weeks have been hard, but I’m so proud of you.” You feel yourself clench and she chuckles. She lowers herself over you as she continues speaking, her words soft, “You didn’t touch yourself once–as far as I know. But you’re a good girl, aren’t you?” You nod quickly. “That’s right. You are. And what do good girls get?” You don’t respond to her and she sits up, nails lightly trailing down your chest. “Answer me, sweetheart.”

“They get rewards,” you say.

“That’s right, they do,” she mutters. “And that’s exactly what you’ll be getting.”

Your mouth opens in a silent gasp when the strap enters you. Agatha’s thumb circles your clit as she slowly thrusts in. “Since you’re blindfolded,” she says, “I think it would be best if you felt me fucking you–considering you can’t see it.”

She reaches for both of your wrists, pulling them down and pinning your hands on your lower abdomen. “I want you to feel me fucking you,” she says, tightening her hold on your wrists as she thrusts hard. “Feel how big my cock is?” 

You cry out in response as you feel the strap bulge under your hands. She bites her lip, thrusting harder. “It’s all for you, sweetheart. I want you to feel me cum inside you. I want you to feel me fuck a baby into you. And you’re gonna take it all, just like the good girl I know you are.”

She speeds up, your legs trembling as she pulls herself forward by your wrists. You’re crying–blubbering, and it’s pathetic. 

“Fuck, yes!” you sob. “Fuck a baby into me, Mommy, please! I want you to cum inside me.”

“Touch yourself,” she huffs, dragging your hands down further. You can feel the strap even more now, sobbing as your fingers circle your clit. She moans at the sight, “That’s my good girl. Keep touching yourself, baby.”

Nothing you have ever felt could compare to this. You’re choking on air from how good it feels. Tears are soaking the blindfold. You can’t see anything, but you can feel everything. Agatha’s tight grip on your wrists, the cock poking through and hitting your hands, your own fingers touching yourself, and Agatha’s hips slamming against yours. You’re almost drooling, and the only words you can mumble are, “Yes, yes, yes, yes!”

“Do you want Mommy to cum inside you?” she says, breathless. 

You can feel the cock twitch inside you and you sob, “Yes! Yes, cum inside me, Mommy, please!”

Your back arches and you’re screaming–you’re actually screaming now–as you start shaking. Your fingers circle faster, even as you go lightheaded, completely blinded by the pleasure.

Agatha’s thrusts become sporadic and messy. “That’s it, keep touching yourself. Mommy’s gonna cum inside this–fuck–this perfect fucking pussy.”

You feel her tremble, you feel the warmth, and you’re too spent to move. You lay there, catching your breath, eyes closed. After she pulls out, she tosses the strap off the bed and pulls the blindfold over your head.

Agatha’s hand brushes over your cheek. “Sweetheart?” she mutters. Your eyes open, adjusting to the light, and you catch her smiling softly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Yeah, I’m–you really weren’t joking when you said you’d fuck me until I almost pass out.”

She chuckles and kisses your cheek. “I told you. I make good on my promises.”

She lays down beside you, arm wrapped around you as your head rests on her shoulder. Her fingers trail up and down your arm and she turns her head to look at you. “So was it worth it?”

You hold your left hand up in the warm lamp light, watching as it reflects off the diamond of your engagement ring and the silver of your wedding band. You turn on your side and curl into Agatha. And as you lay soft kisses on her lips you mutter, “Oh, absolutely, Mrs. Harkness…Absolutely.”

[wafflefries13]

First Date Ideas (Multi TWST Cast X Reader)

Summary: Short drabbles of where you would take your favorite Twisted Wonderland guy on a first date, and where he would take you.

AN: Pseudo part 2 to the asking-out fic I posted. Not really much else to say besides I really liked trying to come up with a bunch of unique ideas. Thanks for reading!

Cross-posted on my AO3 TheGhostInTheKitchen

Warnings: Fluff

Part 1: Asking them out

Ace: 

Where you take him: Arcade

It’s fun, it’s cozy, it’s classic, and it gives Ace a chance to show off. You both get a bunch of tokens, eat greasy pizza, and try your hand at the games. You take each other on in skeeball and Ace tries to convince you to go against him in the basketball game but you argue he has an unfair advantage. So you settle for the racing simulator. After, when you collect all your tickets, you pour over the prize counter, probably ending up with something not very impressive, or maybe a snow cone maker that stops working after the first three uses. But you’ll treasure it since it’s loaded with memories.  

Where he takes you: Carnival 

This boy is already a clown, put him back where he belongs.  Besides the fact that it gives him an excuse to impress you by winning prizes at the games alley, or trying to anyway, a carnival date fits Ace’s high energy. You can share popcorn and cotton candy while watching the circus acts and Ace will whisper to you explanations for the tricks the magician uses. There’s plenty of stuff to do and tons of fried food. It’s a classic for a reason. And he’d love it if you hold on to him on the rollercoasters. He ends up screaming more than you. 

Deuce: 

Where you take him: Petting zoo 

I just want to see Deuce fawning over baby chicks, is that so much to ask? NGL, I think he’d love it. You could go to some sort of tourist farm and check out the cows getting milked, sheep shearing or sheepdog herding, and collect eggs from the chickens (the kind that don’t hatch into chicks). I can also see Deuce getting into a grudge match against a goat that keeps bonking into his legs with his horns. At the end of the day you’ll sit at a picnic table eating some treats made at the farm and watch the sunset. 

Where he takes you: Botanical garden  

Deuce would want to do something classic, a surefire, tried and tested dating spot. I can imagine him being nervous, getting you flowers when you are already going to see more flowers. You’ll hold the flowers in one hand and Deuce’s, slightly sweaty, hand in the other. If they have a butterfly room, even better. They’ll have a little booklet with different species and you and Deuce go on a scavenger hunt to identify as many as possible. Winner gets kisses. 

Trey: 

Where you take him: At home food science experiment kits  

Did you ever see those at home science food kits where you made gummies and foam and other candy, usually themed to something really weird like monsters or worms? Yeah, you do those, half making fun of how weird it looks and half marveling at the cool effects of swirling all the different ingredients together. Will they taste amazing? Probably not, but Trey probably knows a few cool tricks to make everything a little more edible. 

Where he takes you: Chocolate factory tour 

Have you ever been to Hersheypark in Pennsylvania? There’s a whole section with a little dark ride that shows you the history of chocolate (that’s worse since they took the singing cow animatronics out), a cute interactive play, a trolly ride with chocolate samples, and two chocolate making experiences. You can stuff a giant Reese’s Cup (which is way too sweet IMO) or design your own chocolate bar including the wrapping. Anyway, there’s probably not a one-to-one replica, but with all that magic you can’t tell me there’s not something Willy Wonka-esque. You’ll both spend the day learning about the history of chocolate and chocolate making in Twisted Wonderland, capped off by making all kinds of treats. You’ll experiment with typical flavors, like raspberry, caramel, and nuts, to the more extraordinary, like jalapeno, lavender, and cheese. In the end, you’ll go home with a full box and a picture of the two of you, melted chocolate smearing your faces. (Trey will remind you at least three times to brush your teeth properly after all that sugar.) 

Cater: 

Where you take him: Thrift store

Listen, you find the right thrift store and you can find amazing treasures. And if not, well, you still find weird, kitschy stuff you can have fun ogling. You and Cater will take turns finding the best and worst outfits in the thrift store, having a makeshift fashion show by the changing rooms. Cater would, of course, take plenty of pictures for Magicam, labeling them #MeetMyNewPartner, #HeightOfFashion, #BestLookingCouple. You’ll also look through the aisles, coming up with backstories for all the various objects people have donated over the years. Whether or not you actually buy something isn’t the point. You end the day with plenty of pictures and at least three inside jokes that will drive everyone else crazy. 

Where he takes you: Crafting class

There’s been an emergence of cute crafting stores. Make your own bag, make your own candle, paint your own pottery, make a phone case, rug tufting, that kind of thing. Not only are they a cute and totally Magicamable couples activity, it also gives you both something to take home at the end of the day. Whichever you do, I can see you both making a craft for each other. Maybe you keep what you’re doing a secret until the end, filming your reactions when you reveal your crafts. If you pay close attention later on, you can catch him quietly admiring your gift. 

Riddle: 

Where you take him: Escape room 

Back during the NRC Halloween event, when everyone was stuck in the ghost realm, Riddle had a ton of fun solving those puzzles. I think he would love an escape room, finding clues and undoing locks, using logic and guile to uncover the story. He might get frustrated at the harder puzzles, but it’s all worth it when you work together to solve everything.  You get your picture taken together with a “We Escaped!” sign that you frame. It would be something unexpected but fun for the both of you. (TBH, I think he would love the Nancy Drew games. Maybe not the part where you keep breaking into people's things and stealing stuff, though.) 

Where he takes you: High tea and window shopping 

Riddle is going for a classic, something prim and proper for a prim and proper boy. I can see him reserving a table at a high class hotel for high tea, a table set with a beautiful porcelain teapot and a tower of tiny sandwiches and cakes. He’d order a bunch of different teas you could try. Afterwards, you would walk along the street, checking out shops and talking together. Bonus points if you both get to wear something fancy and cute. 

Leona: 

Where you take him: Picnic 

Look, while having the title of Ramshackle Dorm Prefect sounds fancy, you don’t have a lot of extra cash. You would need to do something simple and cheap but still meeting Leona’s royal tastes (You can’t tell me this boy isn’t a picky eater.) Thanks to the Culinary Crucible, you have a few new skills to test out. You find a big blanket in some old trunk in Ranshakle and pack everything together in a cute wicker basket. Maybe you’ll eat in the gardens where Leona always takes naps or go out on the beach to watch the waves. You both end up falling asleep with full bellies. (Leona won’t admit it, but he feels like that was the best food he’s had in a long time.) 

Where he takes you: River cruise with a fancy dinner 

Leona is going to see your cute picnic date and immediately one ups it with a super fancy and elegant river cruise with a full five course meal. It’s on a beautiful private yacht sailing down a river in the Sunset Savannah. You’ll sit on the deck, candlelight table, while perfectly dressed waiters serve you. This would probably backfire on Leona, though, as you tease him for acting the most prince-ly you’ve ever seen him. Not that you don’t have a ton of fun. By the time dessert rolls around, you’ve both ditched the fancy setting and started skipping stones in the wake of the boat. 

Jack: 

Where you take him: Canoeing 

Something relaxing and outdoorsy and fun. I’m thinking you’ll find someplace like the Ocklawaha River or Crystal River in Florida. A beautiful river with plenty of turtles and fish to spot, surrounded by lush forests or Everglades. If you’re more confident on the water, maybe you each can have a kayak, but I imagine something like you both share a boat. It would be fun to have a sort of eye-spy sheet, like who can spot the most turtles, identify fish, maybe catching sight of a manatee, and, wait, was that an alligator? You’ll end your journey at a natural spring. Dumping your stuff in the canoes, you’ll jump in and spend the rest of the day swimming in the cool water. Maybe you find a good vine or rope and swing out over the water. 

Where he takes you: Zip Lining and high ropes course 

More high energy and involved than a lazy day river trip, but it gives you two the chance to be close. I can almost guarantee Jack found out about the place you go to from Coach Vargas. You’ll get hooked up into harnesses and climb up to a vast network of bridges and ladders and obstacle courses hung between the trees like a giant athletic spiderweb. Maybe at one point you slip, and, although you’re perfectly safe with the harness system, Jack still lunges forward to catch you, blushing hard after as he realizes how close you too are. 

Ruggie: 

Where you take him: Food festival 

I imagine something like the Plant City Strawberry Festival, the Wilton Blueberry Festival, or the Gilroy Garlic Festival. Heck, even throw in the Epcot Food and Wine Festival if you want to have another Disney reference. Something county fair-like with plenty of free samples. You’re not sure who convinced who, but at some point you end up getting those cheesy headbands with springs on top and plastic versions of food bobbing around your heads. There always seems to be sketchy fair rides at these things, too, so you definitely cling to each other going down a log flume ride, kind of regretting how much you ate beforehand. But that’s not going to stop you from chowing down after. 

Where he takes you: Farmer’s market 

Listen, if something is good at a farmer’s market, then you know it’s the best. The big ones not only have plenty of great food, but also local performers and plenty of fun extras to buy. Even if you don’t want to buy anything, it’s fun walking through the crowds and seeing all the different stands. You definitely get some super fancy ice cream, probably with some ridiculous flavors like lavender, parmesan, or licorice. Serving sizes always seem huge too, so you both definitely go home with plenty of leftovers. (You totally don’t notice that Ruggie has been paying with Leona’s credit card this whole time.) 

Azul: 

Where you take him: Game shop 

One of Azul’s vignette stories has him practicing throwing dice so many times until he’s able to completely control what numbers will come up. Sure, he might be in the board game club for fun, but also because he likes to win. So a game shop that hosts weekly game nights would be perfect not only for him to show off and impress you, but also a cozy space to have fun and take the pressure off first date jitters. Whether you have a game with just the two of you or join in with other patrons there, you can team up to strategize and win. I personally think something like One Night Werewolf would be perfect. (He does feel bad when he accuses you of being the werewolf, though. Too bad he’s right.) 

Where he takes you: Fancy restaurant 

It’s nothing compared to the Monstro Lounge, of course, But Azul is putting his best foot forward with a classic first date spot. Azul plans everything down to the most minute detail. He double and triple checks the menu of where you’re going before you even leave to make sure there’s nothing you’re allergic to and there’s something you’ll like. He goes all out: flowers, pulling out your chair, getting a bottle of something fancy and expensive to drink (non-alcoholic if you prefer). Of course, the moment you start complimenting him he turns red and starts tumbling over his words. Maybe you lean into that, enjoying teasing him, the switch from having everything under control to a mess of complex emotions. Still, you slide your hand across the table taking his, and you both have a perfect night. 

Jade: 

Where you take him: Make your own tea blend shop

Jade is an experimental guy. I think if he wasn’t the founder of the mountain lovers club he probably would be in the science club just to mix together every kind of chemical just to see what happens. You would take him to a small tea shop, maybe in town on Sage’s Island or somewhere else through the mirror portal. You would pick out matching tea cups then choose different flavors and leaves from the jars of dried tea. You could make up little packets of different custom blends, some of them stuff you actually think would taste good, some that just sound interesting all together. You and Jade could trade and drink them together back at the Monstro Lounge. 

Where he takes you: Mountain and cave hike 

This is kind of a gimme, but I think he’d want to show off all his knowledge of local mountain flora and fauna. He’s the only member of his club, which gives you plenty of time to be alone together and use the club’s budget however you want. He would surprise you by showing you an undiscovered cave entrance. Hopefully it’s not the kind where you have to crawl on your belly to get in. I like imagining something like Ruby Falls in Tennessee. He’d bring you in, turn off his lantern, and crowds of bioluminescent mushrooms would glow around you. 

Floyd: 

Where you take him: Roller derby 

You can’t tell me this boy would not absolutely love watching a bunch of people going super fast while trying to beat the hell out of each other. He would immediately pick a favorite team and buy all their merch. Even if it’s just a small local circuit he’ll make his own merch for the two of you to wear while you cheer them on. Floyd already likes shoes, specifically sneakers, so I think he would really like the idea of roller skating, going as fast on land as he can in the sea. Your next date will be at a roller rink. 

Where he takes you: Laser tag 

Similar to going to a roller derby, Floyd would love the energy and competition of laser tag. He’d be vaulting over the barriers and launching sneak attacks against other players. Maybe you two would team up and top the leaderboard or maybe he’d hunt you down in the glow-in-the-dark black-light game room. Afterwards you can catch your breath in the lobby and eat junk food. You’re not sure if you’re excited or nervous when he mentions paintball. 

Kalim: 

Where you take him: Hands-on science museum 

Coming up with a first date idea to impress Buys-A-Restaurant-Chain-Because-You-Said-You-Liked-Their-Breadsticks-Once-Kalim is a little harrowing. Sure, you know he would like whatever you have planned, it’s the thought that counts, but that doesn't mean you don’t want to try and show off a little. You eventually find a hands-on science museum. Think the Franklin Institute in Philadelphia or the Tech Museum of Innovation in San Jose or even WonderWorks. It’s something that keeps you active, jumping from exhibit to exhibit to try out all kinds of new things while pretending you're learning. Sure, most of the other people there are kids, but that doesn't stop either of you from having fun. With Kalim’s experience with all his younger siblings, you soon have a small army helping you with the replica dinosaur dig site. 

Where he takes you: Fused glass class 

Kalim’s first instinct is to go big. Throw a parade, rent out a theme park, buy a private island. This little ball of sunshine is way too excited to think anything through. Maybe Jamil mentions that you might be intimidated by such an overwhelming show of wealth on a first date, or maybe he implies you need to work up to something that extravagant. Whatever the case, Kalim agrees to start small. He’ll take you to a stained glass shop that offers classes in Silk City. You’ll take a fused glass class together, where you take shards and rods of other colored glass, placing them gently together in a shape. The owners fire the final product leaving you with a beautiful hand-made ornament. Kalim hangs it by his window back in his dorm room, smiling whenever the light catches it. (He’s still thinking about that private island, though.) 

Jamil: 

Where you take him: Aviary 

Jamil mentioned in one of his vignettes that he would want to own a parrot one day. So why not give it a test run with a variety of different parrot species, and throw in some parakeets, falcons, lorikeets, and canaries while we’re at it? You buy cups of food and the birds will fly down to perch on your arms and heads.  The parrots, in colors ranging from green and yellow to blue and purple and red, show you how they dance and talk. There’s a game you can play with them where you hold up different objects and they’ll tell you what they are and what they’re made of. There’s even a falconry show where the birds swoop out into the audience. At the end of the day, the tour guide makes a joke about lovebirds that you both pretend to ignore. 

(BTW, did you know President Andrew Jackson had a parrot that cursed so much it had to be removed from the room during his funeral because it kept swearing? The more you know.) 

Where he takes you: Dance class 

Mr. Jack Of All Trades, Master Of All over here is definitely going to want to show off. No matter who asked who out first, he wants to reassure you, and himself, that you made the right choice agreeing to go out with him. So he sticks with something he knows best, something he has fun with, and something he can easily introduce you too. Whether it’s a classic ballroom dance, salsa, or classic Scalding Sands folk dancing, Jamil just loves the chance to be close to you. It might be better if you have two left feet so he can show off leading you. By the end, you're both sweaty and exhausted, muscles aching pleasantly, but you're also both laughing and wondering if you should enter a couples dance competition. 

Vil: 

Where you take him: DIY spa night 

Like I said before, you don’t exactly have a lot of extra cash, so I can see you relying on a lot of DIY tricks. You’re hoping to impress one of Twisted Wonderland's biggest triple threats with scented candles (bought half-off at Sam’s), homemade avocado hair masks, coconut oil and honey face masks, and a jade face roller and gua sha set you have no idea how to properly use. Vil definitely appreciates effort, so he’ll love whatever you have set up. He’ll even show you how to actually use that jade roller and gua sha. 

Where he takes you: Private movie theater 

Let’s be honest, Vil isn’t exactly the most humble person. And you, a magicless student with pretty much no frame of reference for any pop culture or just plain cultural insights in this new world, are in the perfect position for him to show off. Vil would rent out a private theater showing the best and most iconic movies in all of Twisted Wonderland. Of course, he also shows you all of his films (Like I said, not so humble). He may give you the side eye when you insist on sharing a bucket of buttery popcorn, but if you gasp and laugh and applaud in all the right places I don’t think he’ll mind. 

Rook: 

Where you take him: Art museum 

Quelle beaute! No matter what kind of art museum you choose, modern, sculpture, impressionist, classical, whatever, Rook is sure to love it. He’d be the kind of person to carefully read each plaque to discover more about the artist and what inspired their work. He’ll praise each and every piece, only to turn around and compare it to your beauty. While this definitely will get you a few looks from some of the other visitors, you won’t mind because you know he’s being completely sincere with every word. At the end of the day, you’ll probably end up with an art book from the gift shop and you get each other prints of your favorite paintings. 

Where he takes you: Zoo 

You can take the boy out of the hunt but you can’t take the hunt out of the boy… Or something. We know Rook has a penchant for stalking the poor beastman students at NRC (I bet they have to warn the Savannahclaw first years every year), so I think he would also love admiring animals in a place where you’re actually suppose to watch them. Extra points if there are baby animals. Extra extra points if the zoo has one of those programs where you can go back and get close up encounters with some of the animals, like sloths or elephants. You both definitely get plushies of your favorite animals after. 

Epel: 

Where you take him: Motorcross 

Give the farm boy blood. We know from his dorm uniform vignette that he can ride a blast cycle. Checking out a motorcross race or just a show exhibition would be a high energy outing for you both. Cheering in the stands gives him a chance to cut loose from the stricter rules of decorum in Pomefiore, and sometimes it’s just fun to watch things go fast with a chance of crashing. Maybe you can rent one, or borrow one from Ingenhyde back at NRC, and go for a drive. He’ll probably go a little too fast, maybe from nerves or excitement or just to have to hold him a little tighter. 

Where he takes you: Ice skating 

Do you know how to skate? Great! He’ll take you out to a frozen lake in the middle of a beautiful forest near Harveston. Some place only the locals know about. It’ll be something right off a Christmas card with glitter snow and a perfect clear blue sky. Don’t know how to skate? That’s fine too! You’ll go to an indoor rink, somewhere where the ice is guaranteed to be smooth and won’t crack under your feet. If you’re just learning, please hold on to him and let him teach you, it’ll make him feel super manly and swell with pride. No matter where you go, you both get hot apple cider after, maybe cuddling together in front of a warm fireplace and sharing a warm quilt. 

Idia: 

Where you take him: Cat cafe 

You’re going to need a good excuse to get Idia out of his room, and this is a pretty good reason. Ideally, you would find a place like Tashirojima, the cat island in Japan, but a good old cat cafe will work just as well. You’ll find the least busy time to go which should help Idia’s social anxiety. But once you both settle into plush low chairs and get surrounded by cute kitties, he won’t even notice anyone else. The cafe sells cute frozen cat treats shaped like cat paws that you buy to encourage the cats to come closer. You snuck in some catnip, and you both spend the day enveloped in cute warm kitty cuddles. 

Where he takes you: Video game night 

The boy is a nervous wreck around other people on his best days, so when he decides to venture on a date he’s going to go with something he’s most comfortable with. You’ll camp out in his room for the date. He’s gone to great lengths to make it nice, plenty of snacks and soft pillows and blankets. He’ll introduce you to some of his favorite but entry level games first. Maybe something Animal Crossing adjacent, but I have a soft spot for point-and-click adventure puzzle games. Eventually, you’ll end up playing doubles on something more action oriented, Idia showing you all the best tricks and combo moves. (Ortho is secretly taking pictures to show at the wedding he’s already planning for you both.) 

Sebek: 

Where you take him: Salmon fishing and grill  

You like it because it gives a chance to get out in nature and be alone together, he likes it because he gets to catch his favorite food and prove he can be a provider. Sure, it just might be a first date, but Sebek likes to think ahead and he’s definitely taking your budding relationship seriously. You two go out into the woods, probably near where Camp Vargus was held, and set up next to a river. While most of the day is hanging out on the bank and talking, there’s always a jolt of excitement when one of your lines starts to tug and you pull out a beautiful gray and pink salmon. Sure, there was that one time when the fish slapped Sebek with his fin until it slipped from his hands, but you both agree to forget about that (you don’t forget, in fact you think about it often). Around midday, you both realize you’re kind of squeamish when it comes to cleaning fish. Sebek puts on a brave face and cuts them up while you make a campfire. Is it the best meal you’ve ever had? No, definitely not. Are you picking fish bones out of your teeth for the rest of the evening? Yeah. Did you two have a ton of fun and are already planning your next date? Of course. 

Where he takes you: Tournament 

Does Twisted Wonderland have Renaissance fairs? Who knows, but considering Briar Valley still has knights, they definitely have tournaments. The Bead Brawl is sort of similar to what I’m thinking, but there’s more of a focus on what we would think of as traditional medieval events. Stuff like jousting, sword fighting in full armor, and archery. I don’t think you go all the way to the Briar Valley for this, it’s probably more of a smaller local fair with less serious competition. I think Sebek will be a spectator at this event, but that doesn't stop him from commenting on the participants. He tells you about his own training with Lilia and Silver. He’ll be boastful and loud, but you know him well enough at this point to tell he’s nervous under all the bravado. He wants to make sure you’re having a good time but is too stubborn to actually ask. There are definitely giant turkey legs, homemade soda and mead, and chimney cakes to stuff yourself with. He’ll enter a visitor competition, something fun and light like an obstacle course, and win you a prize. At the end of the day there will be a traditional dance at the fair and you both twirl together under lantern light.

Silver: 

Where you take him: Bookstore date 

Whether a big chain store or a cute local owned place, the idea is the same. First, you both find the cheesiest romance novel cover in the store. Next, you checked out the cook books, looking for the weirdest and worst sounding recipes (you joke about getting it for Lilia then laugh at the glare he gives you). Finally, you both choose a book for the other that you’ll read then reconvene to talk about at your next date. You find him an adventure book, something you would have called epic fantasy back in your world. He gets you a collection of well known fables and myths from across Twisted Wonderland. He’s slightly worried that you’ll be insulted in his reference to your lack of cultural knowledge of your new world, but you love it, especially the gorgeous illustrations for each story. 

Where he takes you: Horse riding along the beach 

This can go one of two ways, depending if you know how to ride a horse/are comfortable around them. If you know how to ride, Silver will borrow someone’s horse from the equestrian club for you to ride. If not, you’ll ride behind him, arms hugged around his middle as you cuddle close. Either way, you’ll ride down to one of the beaches along Sage’s Island. You’ll ride along the beach, darting in and out of the waves. Silver will probably have packed a small picnic that you can eat while watching the sunset. He ends up nodding off for a little while you take a break lounging on some dunes, but you kind of like him leaning on your shoulder like that. 

Lillia: 

Where you take him: Concert in the park 

A few steps down from a full on festival, I’m imagining a lush green park, couples and families spread out on blankets, food trucks surrounding everything making the park smell amazing, maybe a couple of craft tents with knick-knacks for sale. There will be a large stage set up for the bands. Lilia prefers heavy metal, but I think he would like any show that plays something high energy. You’ll set up an umbrella to give you both some shade as you watch the acts. Lilia will regale you with tales of his travels and he’d probably love hearing about all the places in your world. At some point, you both definitely spend time dancing ridiculously. Lilia takes plenty of pictures to show off back at Disamonia. 

Where he takes you: Esports competition 

When Muscle Red told his online bestie Gloomamurai he was trying to come up with ideas for a date, the later said, “I got you,” and set him up with front row seats to the premier esports competition in all of Twisted Wonderland. Arriving at the indoor arena, you get a giant bucket of popcorn to share and Lilia buys you some merch of his favorite team. If you don’t know a ton about esports or the game they’re playing, Lilia will be more than happy to explain the rules to you. You’re surrounded  in deafening cheers when your team makes a last minute score to win, hugging each other while jumping up and down. On the way back, Lilia promises to help you set up an account for the online game and teach you the ropes, while trying to remember to thank his friend when you kiss his cheek. 

Malleus: 

Where you take him: Mini-golfing 

You can’t tell me it wouldn’t be adorable to see a giant Malleus hunched over a mini-golf club trying to gently tap the ball into a hole. I can see him at the first hole swinging like a normal golf course, sending the ball twinkling away, Team Rocket style. Mini-golf is a classic first date, and I think he would like the normality of it all. You’re not trying to super impress him, just treating him like a normal boyfriend, a normal date. And it gives you both more time to focus on each other, between desperately trying to hit the ball through the moving fan blades of the windmill hole. 

Where he takes you: Historic castle ruins 

I can imagine Malleus panicking at first about where to take you for your first official date. Does he bring you to a ball in the Briar Valley? A romantic opera in perfect box seats? Do you start picking out your engagement rings? Instead, he finally decided on an old reliable choice, harking back to how you both first started bonding in the first place. He finds beautiful old ruins, either in Briar Valley or somewhere else, and you just stroll and talk. He’ll tell you about the architecture, maybe the history of the location, pointing out whatever interesting gargoyles he spots. You both understand you don’t need grand gestures or impressive and expensive dates. You’re both happiest being with each other.

[darkwitchoferie]

My Master lists

Decided to put together a masterlist of my writing, divided by fandom. I dunno, it's partly for my own benefit too actually. So I can find what I'm looking for when I want it. There's not much, but I'm also gonna include the link to my AO3 for the stuff I never cross-posted.

Stray Kids

First things first - this is just a blanket disclaimer for my Stray Kids fics. These stories are just for fun and not meant to accurately depict the real life individuals portrayed in them.

Jealousy - You’ve been dating Chan for a while and he takes you as his date to a JYPE party. There, he notices how close you are to Felix and jumps to some conclusions.

Train Ride - You start off as just Chan’s beloved girlfriend and end up in bed with all the members. **Now cross posted to ao3**

Original Oneshot Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten

The Moment He Knew You Were The One - You're dating Chan and start to notice some odd behavior from the guys

Best Friends to Lovers - This is a series of unconnected, smutty oneshots in which the fem!reader has been best friends with the various members since childhood/teen years. Most are idol!skz, but Hyunjin and Felix’s are college!aus. All have happy endings. Minho and Seungmin have two stories, the first is a threesome story (Minho&Jisung and Seungmin&Changbin) while the second is a solo story.

Chan Minho (Solo) Changbin Hyunjin Jisung Felix Seungmin (Solo) Jeongin

Fic Recs: Chan 2 Minho Changbin Hyunjin Jisung Felix Seungmin Jeongin OT8 2 Multi-members

Stranger Things (Steddie)

Accidentally In Love - Steve and Eddie have been dating for months, but neither of them have noticed until Robin and Nancy confront them about it.

Rosary - Eddie’s in the hospital after his heroics in the Upside Down. Steve and Wayne sit together, waiting for him to wake up.

Too Much - Steve knows he’s too much, he always has been. And he knows it’s the main reason he can’t make a relationship last, so he tries pulling away from Eddie before it’s too late and he loses him too.

Larkspur and Lily of the Valley - Steve has a cough and thinks it's allergies, until a blue petal comes up. (Happy ending Hanahaki au)

I may one day link my fic recs here for Steddie, but I didn't tag them when I reblogged them, so probably not.