#if you had any doubts or questions about why i am the way i am (said like Eminem) you might understand more now

[nan0ka]

𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇♡𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄⁰⁴

summary. a little accident happend while you were trying to find your motivation.

content. highschool au, fluff, slowburn, childhood friends to lovers, umemiya may seem ooc, little angst.

wordcount. ~3.04k.

❨📁❩ ← previous. ❨🗂️❩ → masterlist. ❨📁❩ → next.

　“AND, how is your love life doing, [name]-san?”

Curious round, amber eyes went to you as you sat there on your standard seat while you were occupied with scrolling through the gallery of your camera. It's really full of childhood pictures of the white-haired guy. And he looked young. Really, really, really young. You don't even remember taking so many photos. He didn't even notice once the camera that was pointed into his direction..

"Repeat what you said." you demanded, not really focused at your dear friend.

"What are you even looking at?" she sighed with a light chuckle, leaning forward to get closer to you. "How's your love life going?"

Out of nowhere, you choked on your own spit and began to cough violently while pounding against your chest gently to help yourself. Kotoha got startled by your sudden cough and immediately brang you a cup of water that you gulped down in just matter of seconds. You shut your eyes, before breathing out. Relief, that you hadn't died yet, washed all over your body as you slammed the empty cup on the counter.

"I don't have one." you knitted your eyebrows in confusion slightly. "You're quickly climbing up the »I dislike« ranking."

"And you still visit me after school." she rolled her eyes amused and looked at your highschool uniform. "Actually. [name], I thought you had better taste. Why him? I'm a bit disappointed."

"You're what?" you narrowed your eyes.

"But at least I can approve of him." she smiled. "Just because I know how he ticks and everything."

"We're talking about uh Umemiya Hajime, right? Your brother?" you tilted your head to the side confused.

"Yeah. Don't you even notice how he looks at you?"

"How does he look at me?" you asked blankly.

She frowned a bit at your question. Have you really never noticed the way he looked at you? Were you pretending? Or are you just dense? A sigh left her lips as she shook her head disappointed. You both would never get together if you don't even take any hints. And neither of you makes the first move which frustrated her to the death. Both of you are hopeless. But it's fine, it's still only the start of the beginnig.

"Like a total love-sick fool." she rolled her eyes with a light smile. "But it looks like he never wants to look away. The way every woman wants to be looked at."

At that, your eyes widened slightly before furrowing your eyebrows and shaking your head in doubt. "I'll never put trust in your statement until I hear it myself." you sighed and added, "Aside from that, I'm very close to leaving.". A groan full of disbelief was heard by your ears as you glanced at pretty friend whose head lowered in annoyance. God, how slow-witted does your brain work?

"If I tell Umemiya the exact same thing, he would jump in joyfulness and ask me if it was true. He would believe me in no time, no hesitation needed." she muttered. "And now, you would've already left if you wanted to."

"Don't test me." you said flippantly before standing up from your stool. "I still intend to find my inspiration to draw. Bye."

Kotoha sweatdropped and watched you as you stepped out of the dine-in Restaurant Pothos with the camera in your hands. "You sure you aren't leaving, because of me?" she let out a chuckle, turning back to her work behind the counter while hearing the little bell ring. The only thought lingering in her mind was little you and him, coming through the door hand-in-hand with dirt on your clothes, cuts and tiny bruises on your body.

The very first time she saw him cry.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

"Why am I like this?" an exasperated sigh left your lips as you stopped the leaves from blocking your view by removing them out of your face, dropping your camera and letting it hang over your neck. You walked further into the quiet forest while looking around. It's hard to find something in your rather special taste. "And how long has it been that I visited this place, damn."

The rays of sunlight shone through the gaps in the leaves, hitting the floor. The only sound you can hear were the chirping of birds. The sense of direction left you hours ago. How long have you been walking around? You're sure you were at the exact same spot just minutes ago. It feels like you're walking in a loop. Your eyes widened as you stopped in your tracks while your gaze laid on a white bunny.

"Not everyday to see one." you muttered and took out your camera. You knelt down, making yourself comfortable on the grass while watching down. If you slip, then you'd surely roll down this little hill and end up with some injuries. "I should hurry. So don't move bunny." you plead and stared though the lense of the camera. It was quiet. The only thing you can hear is your own breath.

You turned off the flash, zoomed-in on the animal next to the little river and let the camera fully concentrate. As soon as it focused, you clicked down the shutter button which released a certain sound. "Perfect." you whispered and switched to the gallery, letting the bunny hop away. "Surrounding looks pretty nice, the vibe, ... And the main idea." with that, you stood up quickly and—

You violently rolled down the small hill and heard how a branch tore your shorts. Finally you fell into the dirty river, splashing the environment and wetting your clothes. Slowly but surely, you helped yourself up, your wet hair formed at the tip of the strands little drops of water. "..." you silently stared down before crawling to a tree, leaning against it. "Today isn't my day."

Groaning, you reached for your phone in your pocket. "It's wet." you noticed and blankly looked at your phone. "And it doesn't work anymore. This is going to be expensive." you want to break down in tears and cry. You want to cry hard. You looked up and saw your camera hanging on the same branch which tore your clothes. Life is not going well. Why? Life is so hard. Why. You're having a crisis.

And the numb feeling in your leg doesn't help. You're cold. And wet. You don't have a working phone. Your voice feels hoarse. And you're simply tired. Tired that you can't help yourself or atleast get yourself help. To make it worse, you can feel the burning sensation in your eye as a tear slides down your cheek. This is the worst day of the year. You're pretty sure of it. You want to go home and sleep.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

　"I'm back, Kotoha!" an overly happy Umemiya came through the door.

He sat down on the stool infront of the counter, took his phone out and showed her a lot of pictures. "I secretly planted strawberry seeds the other day because [name]-chan loves them!" he told her excited. "Look! They're growing so fast! I can't wait to pick these babies! You think they'll be as sweet as [name]-chan? No wait— Only you can beat her in cuteness with a little effort, Kotoha!"

The burgundy-haired female sighed and looked at the pictures. "They look nice, Ume. But I'm actually closing in in a few minutes." her eyes went outside as she saw the beautiful nightsky. "How about you visit [name]-san? I'm sure she's waiting for you somewhere." Kotoha's gaze landed back to her her non-blood related brother. "Please just leave me alone for the day. I'm a bit tired."

"Oh." he sulked as he listened to her complain, but his moods lit up at the mention of your name. "Yeah! I'll give her a call. I haven't seen her today, I'm dying to see her!"

With that being said, he called you immediately and waited for you to pick up. Kotoha watched him quietly as he waited impatiently. "...The number you have dialed is unavailable—" he frowned and glanced at his phone before dialing your number again while waiting again. "...The number you have—" Umemiya stands up and blinked at his phone. "Kotoha, what should I do?"

"Maybe she didn't hear it." Kotoha shrugged her shoulders while sighing at her panicked brother. "Or she got tired  and is sleeping right now. But she was here today noon and left to find her motivation to draw. I'm sure she already found it and is painting at home. It's already night, you know?"

"...You're right."

Kotoha dried her hands with a towel and still watched Umemiya who doesn't look relieved at all. "How about you check up on her? You worrywart." she smiles slightly and placed a bag on the counter. "It's Omurice, your favorite. A little bit cold. I knew you were coming, but I packed it up because it got a little dark. Now go and check up on [name]-san, yeah?" she suggested.

"Thanks." now hea was less tense.

"Take care, yeah?"

"You should also take care. Sorry that I can't walk home with you and leaving you alone."

"Nah, it's fine. You would regret leaving [name] alone."

"Come on! Let's play!"

Hurried steps and a loud voice rang in your eardrums as your gaze went up from the flower painting you drew to the annoying white-haired kid. The excitment was vivid on his face as he ran towards you with the biggest grin. You sighed out irritated and went back to your drawing, not interested in his schemes shenanigans as you shook your head. You weren't pretty fond of the idea in making friends.

"I'll show you my favorite game today, hide and seek!" he fell to his knees and crawled closer to you. "It makes a lot of fun, promise!"

And he didn't even let you react as he pulled you up to your own feet, letting your things fall to the side while guiding you to the forest in the near. "It's my first time playing in the forest, because they don't allow me to. So shhh. Don't tell anyone, yeah?" he said, then looked back at you with a grin while also stopping next a big tree. "You know the game? Is it your first time? Should I explain—"

"No thanks." you knitted your eyebrows. "I already know the game. Are you always like that?"

"Nuh uh! I'm the responsible older brother in my family. But when I'm with you, I'm free from anything, you know?" he grins. "By the way, you're seeker!"

He runs off. "This little shit." you grumbled and sighed before turning your back to the forest. "You sure are silly, silly-milly. And you're a lot to take care of. I could never be like you and waste my time with stupid games." you complained, even though no one was listening. Maybe you just going crazy in his presence. "But you're pretty lucky that I don't want to take blame for your disappearance. One, two, three—"

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

　You walked past many trees as you followed the sobs. And with a little luck, you finally found the lost kid after hours. "Man, you have some luck, don't you." you sighed and went up to him while he was crying on the spot. "Next time you should listen to the others. Didn't they say you shouldn't play in the forest?" you scolded the crying child and leaning down to his height for a short time.

"Let's go."

He felt a tiny warm hand placed on top of his head, ruffling it a bit. The sobs and crying got quieter as he removed his hands from his face. The first thing he saw was your hand. "[name], I thought... you w-wouldn't come anymore!" he cried harder. You sighed annoyed. You wished you had the skill to comfort crying kids which you unfortunately don't own. "I-I thought I would n-never see my family again!"

"Well, I'm here now." you took the matter in your hands as you grabbed his hands and pulled him up. "If you don't shut up, you'll never see light again. Let's go home, stupid."

Never in his life did he shut his mouth that fast. The sound of crying disappeared in no time. He only saw your back and your interwined hands. You're right. Next time he should listen to the elders. He's such a problem child. How is he going to take the responsibility for his younger siblings if he can't even take care of himself? He stared at your back with a sullen face. He's a bit tired and dirty. But he's glad you also are.

You opened your eyes slowly at the sound of heavy pants as you blinked. "[name]?" you noticed, it's dark already. How long have you been sleeping? You wanted to look up, but suddenly you're pulled into a hug. You can smell his familiar scent. The scent you love. "I'm glad I found you. I'm glad I found you. I'm glad I found you. I'm glad I found you—" those whispers were repeated.

For a moment, you could only stare. The moonlight is illuminating him. He's stunning, heavenly even. His white hair is shining under the smile of the moon. His ocean blue eyes are sparkling with a hint of hope. His pale skin is glowing like the sun. The aura around him is so gentle, it would anyone approach him out of curiosity. The people who walk past him would take a second glance even. He's majestic.

"Do you know how glad I am?"

"That you found me?"

"Yes."

"...Very?"

"And you know how worried I was?"

"To death?.."

"Glad you know." he pulled away from you before taking his furin jacket off and helped you put it on. "Let's go home."

The burning sensation returned in your eyes again as you watched him. Oh he doesn't know how glad you are right now. You closed your eyes with a slight smile, letting tears slide down your cheeks. Are those happy tears or sad tears? You're not sure. "Hajime..." you're cold. But not as cold as before, because were drier than before. You even got his jacket. You're crying after such a long time. "Hajime."

"What is it?" he answered in a quiet and soft voice. You can see his chest is heaving up and down. Oh. He's tired too after searching probably the whole town.

"Carry me... Please." you requested.

"I would've even without you asking." he began to smile a bit and then turned around.

You're selfish. But you couldn't care less right now. You wrapped your arms around his neck, careful not to suffocate him in anyway as his hands wandered under your knees, careful not to touch you anywhere inappropriate. He made sure he secured you on his back before slowly standing up. The silent was nice. Really nice. You're so tired. But so is he. And he still is carrying you.

"I'm sorry for being a burden." you apologized and buried your face in his shoulder. "I promise to do better next time and not get lost."

"It's fine." he said softly. "I promise to find you anywhere. So don't worry about getting lost."

"We're back."

Both of you entered the orphanage he lives in hand in hand, standing infront of the door. You heard hurried steps coming towards you as you looked forward while he was facing the floor. You two really looked like you were at your end. Dirt all over your torn up clothes, messy hair all over the place, cuts and tiny bruises all over your bodies. How rough was this day? Enough to let someone die.

But it's fine, he thinks. He looked at your interwined hands, as he blocked out the worry of the others and the scolding of mr. Yuki Shitara. It's fine.

"Remember my favorite game?"

"Of course." you answered quietly. "Hide and seek."

"I'm happy you remember."

"You always hid in this forest, but actually you got lost. You always hid in the places no one could find you."

The adult rushed into the house with a panicked face. "Umemiya is missing again!" you looked over to the worried adults before sighing and sitting up. And you really thought you could relax in this orphanage instead of staying at home. But he always makes it impossible for you.

"And then I would always find you at night while you were crying again. I would've carried you home, but I couldn't. So I just held your hand."

A sigh left your lips as you set a foot in the orphanage. Not a second passes and you both were crowded by his little siblings. You stared at mr. Yuki Shitara again who sweatdropped before thanking you with the warmest smile. "We're back." you said. This wasn't the first time, you've said it.

"Mr. Yuki always scolded you for doing it over and over again. And then praised me over and over again for finding you."

"Only because I had the feeling that you would find me." he smiles. "Now it's the other way around. You derserve a break, don't you?"

You want to cry at his gentleness. You savour every moment with him. Right. You already do. His back is giving you comfort and warmth. You could fall asleep any time while balling your eyes out. And he would simply listen this time, letting you use his shoulder to cry on and then telling you everything is fine. When you think it's your fault, he would make sure it's his.

Because he would never let you think you're wrong or you're at fault. It doesn't matter what it's about. You don't deserve to feel like a burden. And he'll make sure you know that.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No, I could never be mad at you. I'm mad at myself for leaving you alone."

It's fine, you think. You looked at him from behind before wrapping your arms around his neck a little tighter. It's fine.

- NAN0KA [ june 10th, 2024 ]

[ghostwise]

Matacuervos, ch. 4 - La joya Hamal and Zevran find a lead in the brothels of Rialto, but will they manage to investigate it in time? Read update on AO3 - Read from the beginning on AO3

“Philanthropists,” the woman said with a flourish, and she snapped her fan shut in distaste.

It was hot in the basement of the brothel, La espina dorsal , and the thick and heavy scent of bodies permeated the room. The heat was making her make-up drip off, which was quite a sight to see amidst a backdrop of entwined lovers.

“Philanderers, more like,” she continued. “They claim it’s all worth it if the babes end up cared for. That a Chantry cloister will protect them better than here.”

“You doubt it?” Zevran asked.

She scoffed.

“Not without reason,” she said. “But… if they are so charitable why not come for the orphans sooner? Why wait years between visits? Why not take every child in need, not just the healthy ones?” Bitterness laced her voice, sending a shiver down Zevran’s spine. “All I know is, the day my friends were taken was the day I decided I was done with the Maker. Perhaps you can ask the Chantry why they don’t help all of us; why a bum leg makes a six year old girl unfit to serve Andraste, but fit enough to stay in this sty.”

Zevran glanced at Hamal, sharing the same grim thought. Rocio’s mangled leg would have been a death sentence for a young Crow recruit. And yet, leaving her behind was no mercy.

Zevran shifted closer, asking his next question with great care.

“It seems your friends were taken around the time frame we are investigating. Do you recall anything else about the day they left?”

A lengthy pause followed. Her eyes briefly seemed to focus elsewhere, before she answered. “No. I’m sorry. They didn’t leave any information. Just said I wouldn’t be a good fit where they were going.”

“Thank you for your time,” Zevran said when they had finished talking. “And your lovely company.”

“Didn’t even do nothing!” Rocio chuckled, taking the money. “But alright. See you ‘round.”

Stepping out of the brothel, Zevran couldn’t help but feel as stifled as he had indoors.

The sun bore down like a dagger. They’d spent all day searching for leads, visiting brothels and orphanages across the city with the same story: that they were tracking down a long-lost relative.

It was not entirely a lie. Zevran felt a genuine kinship with the workers of Rialto’s brothels; they had raised him, after all, and just like anyone else in the city, they sought only to make a living, to raise enough coin to build a life. But they had few protections when things went wrong. A single misfortune—a death, an illness, or an arrest—was all it took. When children were involved, it spelled grim consequences.

They had yet to find any tangible evidence, but many of the brothels had reported curiously similar anecdotes: a generous donor, a charitable organization, or an anonymous do-gooder who arrived to adopt the forgotten children. The offer would come with uncanny timing, often just when it was needed most. And who could argue against one less mouth to feed?

No records, no documentation of where they’d go. It was easy for the city to look the other way, for these were orphans or bastards or both. And so they were taken, no questions asked.

It made Zevran’s blood boil.

He sulked in a bad mood the entire way back to the cheap sawdust inn they’d paid double what the humans paid to lodge at. He persisted in a sour mood through dinner, and even after they went to bed—only to wake Hamal in the small hours of the morning, too angry to sleep.

“I do not think it was the Chantry that came for those children ten years ago,” Zevran hissed. “Or perhaps I don’t want to believe it… and yet, Sister Tristeza spoke of this allegiance between the Crows and the Chantry. How deeply does it run? I am a devout man—even I’ve heard rumours that one bore the other long ago.”

“Which one?” Hamal asked in a sleep-tinged voice, but Zevran continued in frustration.

“Of course a girl with a mangled leg would be found unfit for the Crows. She would have died during training. But would knowing the true fate of her friends change anything? She was abandoned. She needed saving.” Here he paused, for his anger threatened to spill over.

Rocio’s fate felt intertwined with his, separated only by happenstance. Her mangled leg had saved her, but not from everything.

“Could she still need saving?” Hamal asked, and Zevran realized, by the cadence of his words, that he was half-asleep. “Could we?”

The question resonated enough to slow Zevran’s racing thoughts. He couldn’t tell whether Hamal meant could we need saving, also? or could we save her?

It felt self-aggrandizing to think they could save anyone, damned as they already were.

“I don’t fucking know,” he said at last, all too aware of his bitterness leeching out.

Hamal sighed and regarded Zevran for a long moment.

“Someone will put a stop to it,” he said finally. “The people will not allow it to continue once they realize what is happening. They will wonder why they never hear word from the adopted, and they will be wary when the next Crow recruiter comes.”

“With any luck,” Zevran said fiercely, “We’ll find him ourselves first. And put daggers in him until he tells us all we need to know.”

“Exactly.” Hamal fell back onto his pillow, like a log. “Come back to bed, vhenan .”

Zevran shook his head. Sleeplessness had claimed him already—yet he grudgingly climbed under the thin sheets with Hamal.

“I will, but I won’t sleep.”

“Keep watch then,” Hamal said, in a voice drowsy enough to curb any argument. He latched onto Zevran’s arm and then he was out like a light—leaving Zevran in awe of how quickly his husband could sleep, even in these circumstances.

.

Dawn broke over the city and fatigue had tempered Zevran’s anger for the time being. He’d managed to sleep for an hour or two before they began the day’s investigations. Fortunately he was used to running on fumes.

“How many brothels are there in Rialto?”

It was a particularly sunny morning. Hamal had pushed all of his curls into a messy bun, and shoved the whole mess beneath a wide-brimmed sombrero , but Zevran rather suspected he needed more sun protection than that. For now he led him through shaded alleyways, avoiding the crowded main streets and the direct sunlight.

“It’s a very large port city,” he responded.

“So?”

“Lots.” Zevran smiled at him. “About a dozen at least. Ah, if only we were here under better circumstances! A brothel is normally a place of good cheer and relaxation.”

“We will just have to come back when we are not tracking down slavers,” Hamal said with a smile.

“Now there’s an idea,” Zevran said, contemplating it. His thoughts briefly recalled The Pearl in Denerim. “In any case,” he continued, “one of these places is bound to have a lead. Someone, somewhere, knows something. We just need to find the right person to talk to.”

“Perhaps,” Hamal said. “We may have already found her.”

He gestured with a short motion of his head to the cobblestone road behind them. Zevran followed his gaze.

It took him a moment to recognize her without the heavy layers of make-up, and she walked in the company of another woman, but her dark curls were the same as when they’d seen her yesterday, and she carried the same light-weight aluminum cane with her. It caught the light and shone like a mirror as she swung it forward with every step.

She greeted them with the false names they had taken to using in the city. “Amrit! Hirael! My, you two are hard to track down!”

“How did you manage?” Zevran asked.

“Whores talk, you know,” Rocio laughed. “I mentioned your visit to my friend here, and I quickly learned you’d been visiting nearly every brothel this side of town. I said, Maker, he must have an appetite!”

The woman beside her offered her hand. “Elena,” she said, giving Zevran and Hamal’s a hearty shake. “I work at La joya. ”

“A pleasure,” Zevran said.

“It will be,” Rocio said. “Tell them!”

Elena waved her hand excitedly, beckoning Zevran closer, and when he was near enough, she whispered: “A man came to La joya a few days ago,” she said. “He was from some charity in Salle. A trade school for impoverished children. He said his work took him around the country—to brothels, orphanages, hospitals, you know. Places where children often wound up alone. They’d teach them to read and write, and hire them out to factories who would provide for them while they worked. Any child! The elves, the humans, even if they were mage-blooded. Sounds fishy, hm?”

Zevran took a deep breath. This was it; exactly what they’d been looking for.

“Can we find somewhere to talk?” he asked. “You can tell us what you know, and we will tell you a little more about why we are here.”

.

They came to a brick building, covered in flowers that clung to the walls in enticing greenery. La joya lived up to its name. The windows glimmered and the scent of perfume was strong, even outside. Inside, the atmosphere likened more to a spa or a fine bathhouse. This did not escape Zevran, who raised a brow, looking at Hamal.

“Can’t say I’ve ever been here,” he said.

“Can’t say I’ve ever worked here,” Rocio sighed. She rubbed her hip with a grimace as they walked on.

They were greeted by several guests as they went. More than once, Elena kissed a patron on the cheek, shook hands, or embraced them with a cheerful, “Lovely to see you! But it’s my day off, darling. Do come again tomorrow.”

Down a hallway and to the left, they passed a well-stocked kitchen, then exited again to a central courtyard where potted flowers were arranged in clusters along the path. It was quiet, with the bustle of the streets lowered to a dim hum. From there they crossed the way to another building, which rose above the treeline.

“Where are we going?” Hamal asked.

“To speak to the boss,” Elena said. “The apartments are this way.”

“Apartments? Your employer lives where the workers live?” Zevran asked.

It was far from what Zevran was expecting. The building they arrived at was a tenement for the workers—aged, with flaking plaster, small and humble rooms, yet clean and maintained. When Elena knocked on the door, it was like they were visiting anyone on the street. The middle-aged woman who answered looked like any woman at the market.

“Ah, it is you!” she said, and waved everyone inside. “Come on in. I take it you are you the ones tracking down your family?”

Rocio made a beeline to a wood and wicker chair near the woodstove. She sat and hung her cane on a hook on the wall, then procured a small bag of tobacco from a drawer.

“Mind if I smoke?” she asked.

Elena walked into what could barely be termed a living room. She dropped into the lap of a tall light-haired man, who kissed her, gripping her tightly by the shoulders.

“Take that as a yes,” Rocio hummed.

There were a lot of people in the apartment, gathered together with the ease of friends who’d known one another for years. For a moment, Zevran wondered if he’d misunderstood the purpose of the visit, but they were guests, and so, he practiced patience for the time being.

“Thank you for having us,” Zevran said, shifting his bag off his shoulder. “Who is the owner of La joya?”

Rocio stifled a laugh. She grinned, as if she was revealing a grand secret with her answer.

“Everyone!”

It took a bit of explaining.

There were nine people crammed into that tiny apartment, six of them workers at La joya . Besides Elena, there were Damian and Cora—prostitutes. Lara, who had answered the door, managed the washrooms. Jania, an elven bodyguard on her day off. Terrance, a stripper—distinguished from Damian and Cora for his strict no-touch policy, though he assured them, he had no need of touch to leave his audience satisfied.

“I don’t quite understand,” Hamal said in whispered to Zevran in Common. “They explained it too quickly.”

“It is something like what the workers of The Pearl did,” Zevran explained. “But they went a step further—they pooled their money to buy the entire business.”

“We are the Rialto Society of Pleasures,” Elena said with a flourish. “Cooperatives like this exist across the country—but we are the first for workers of brothels and pleasure houses. We keep the money we make, and work together to run things.”

“It works,” Rocio drawled amidst puffs of smoke, “more or less. There is quite a bit of turnover—”

“Because no one is bound to stay,” Lara said. “That is important. No contracts. Just rent, and board, for those who opt to live in the tenement, that sort of thing.”

Zevran took in the information as he did anything else in life; recognizing its immediate impact on him (none) and its objective merit (excellent). He sidled up to the counter in the small kitchen and looked at all the proud and smiling faces around him.

If his mother had wound up in a brothel like this—

But she hadn’t. No use dwelling on it.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” he said. “Were I not otherwise occupied with my husband I might even consider applying!”

“Really?” Rocio giggled. “Get in line. My application’s been in for months.”

They had good reason to be proud. Not every prostitute was so fortunate. And yet, it had taken years, a lot of work, and a dash of luck to make it happen.

But they had not come here to talk about business; Zevran quickly refocused.

“Now that we understand how things are run here, tell us about this visitor you received. Who exactly spoke to this man?”

“Jania and Damian,” Lara said.

“And so when the stranger came and offered to adopt any orphaned children…”

“We told him we had no unwanted children,” Damian explained. “Some of the workers choose to raise families, yes. And occasionally we take in children when their parents cannot care for them. But it’s never a hardship. So he left empty-handed. That was that.”

“But that was not all,” Hamal observed after a moment, in his careful Antivan. “Or why talk to us?”

A lull passed over the small group. Rocio pulled a deep drag from her cigarette.

“We robbed him,” Jania said.

“Ha!” Hamal’s face lit up; his Antivan was still middling, but he understood her easily.

Damian produced a piece of paper from his waistcoat pocket. He passed it to Cora who passed it to Lara, who handed it to Zevran, who unfolded it.

“These fools are always writing shit down and it is their own undoing,” Hamal observed in Common, as he read over Zevran’s shoulder.

The paper contained a handwritten list of brothels in the city. The majority of them were struck out, along with a tally system beside some of the names. Only a few on the list remained unchecked. El milagro was one of the brothels which had not yet been struck through.

“I didn’t like him,” Damian said. “He gave me a bad feeling. But I didn’t think anything of it until Rocio stopped by, and mentioned your search for information. Could this have anything to do with it?”

Zevran creased the paper slightly, brow furrowed. “These tallies…”

“Whores he slept with, we assumed,” Rocio said.

“No,” Zevran said softly. “Children they’ve taken. I think I must tell you,” he said, looking up at the Rialto Society of Pleasures, “The truth. But it is horrible. And we have little time to act.”

.

Rocio had put out her cigarette. She sat hunched at the table, lost in her thoughts, and she hadn’t spoken since Zevran explained his suspicions and his lived proof. Sometimes the truth was cruel. Even when it was necessary.

The rest of them considered what could be done.

“We should bring the list to the city guard,” Jania suggested.

“What will they do, exactly? A piece of paper is hardly proof of anything. Even if they believed us, something tells me they wouldn’t exactly jump to action,” Elena said.

“Unfortunately, you are correct,” Zevran said. “What I have shared with you is already common knowledge in some circles; I am quite certain the owner of the brothel I grew up in knew exactly where he was sending us off to. But… you deserve to know for yourselves, what has been happening all these years.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“We are going to find them,” Hamal said slowly. “And kill them.”

“His Antivan is not very good,” Zevran added in the silence that followed. “He means, we will tie them up. As in, we will capture them.”

Hamal glanced at him, annoyed.

Zevran held up the note. “You have helped us tremendously with this information alone,” he said. “Thank you. I pray you never have to deal with these slavers again. If we have any success, you won’t.”

“That’s all?” Rocio asked, looking up at him over an ashtray.

“Please! Whatever you are going to do, we want to be a part of it,” Elena insisted. “These are our children targeted.”

Zevran frowned. He strongly felt that it was not wise to get more people involved; too many hands in too delicate of a situation. He had intended to warn rather than invite, to protect rather than endanger, but Hamal set a hand on his shoulder, switching to whispered Common.

“Might be good to have eyes out, Zev. There are a lot of names on this list and we cannot surveil all of them. Let’s do it this way,” he said, gesturing to the paper. “Send them here, and here… At the very least they can carry a warning. Just in case.”

Zevran nodded thoughtfully.

It occurred to him, not for the first time, how much more daunting this journey would be like without Hamal’s counsel and support.

“Very well. Then help us in this,” he said, turning back to the group, “We cannot visit every site on this list tonight. Go to these locations.” He dabbed a gloved finger into the ashtray, and used it to indicate several names, before handing the list back to Elena. “But be discreet; simply warn them that a suspicious person might come, bearing lies. And I beg you— do not mention us, by description or name. You could endanger yourselves more than you realize.”

“Got it,” Elena said, scanning the paper already. “Let’s split up.”

“What do we do if we find the bastard?” Damian asked.

Zevran hesitated. “Stall. Wait for us to arrive.”

“But-”

“We will be there,” Zevran said quickly. “Now, we have a few hours to act; these visits, to my knowledge, happen under cover of night. We must prepare.”

.

Zevran clasped Hamal’s arm and led him away from the building at a frantic pace. That small apartment had begun to feel claustrophobic. He wanted it far behind, and besides, he knew where they were needed next.

“I’m sweating,” Hamal said, walking along hurriedly. “That building was hot. Zevran. What-”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked simply, voice clipped in urgency. Signs and windows rushed past as they half-jogged through the streets.

“Yes! The next place they will try to buy recruits from—that woman at El milagro ,” Hamal said. “She was afraid of you because she was expecting someone. Someone she didn’t want you to meet.”

“Exactly,” Zevran hissed. “He is going there soon, I know it. She wanted us gone, because she knew —she knew who I was and she knew why we were there and—”

“He is definitely going to be at El milagro . But Zevran, slow down—”

Hamal dug his heels in. Exercising a bit of his marital privilege, he scooped Zevran up into his arms, steadying him for a moment.

“Breathe, vhenan,” he said firmly. And quickly set him back down, before Zevran had a chance to complain.

Zevran huffed, glancing up at him then glaring away. “If it is the same man…”

“I know.” Hamal plucked the string of his bow, worn around his chest. “I can handle it.”

Zevran shook his head. “You don’t need to do that.”

“Listen: point at something for me to shoot. Go on. There’s no one around.”

Zevran frowned at the game. He hesitated to waste time when every second seemed necessary, but truly, he was not thinking clearly. He did as he was told. “That water pail,” he said, feeling mischievous and a little mean.

In an instant it was useless, holed up with an arrow from Hamal’s bow.

“Again,” Hamal said. “A challenge.”

Knowing perfectly well what he was capable of, Zevran spied around for a moment. Then he spoke, with an arm outstretched. “That poster on the wall, the red one. Sixty yards down. By the flowers.”

Hamal took a moment to aim, but he loosed an arrow just as easily. Of course, it hit dead center.

They walked together to retrieve the arrows.

“It will be that simple,” Hamal spoke. “You will not need to be strong, fast, or even brave for this, Zevran. Just point at him. If this is hard for you, just tell me where to shoot.”

“Amor, I appreciate that. But this will be difficult,” Zevran explained, pulling his arrow out of the wall it had embedded itself in, “Because we will need this man alive.”

He handed it to Hamal, with a somber look as the Warden took the arrow.

“We will need to take him and question him. We cannot kill him right away. That complicates things. Increases the risk of things going wrong. Think: Can he signal someone? Will he be alone or will he have backup? Will he be armed? Will he have…”

He stopped, unable to say it.

“Children with him,” Hamal concluded with a sigh. He understood, then. “Oh, ma vhenan. There was nothing you could have done for those boys in the church.”

Zevran nodded, avoiding his gaze. More than anything, he worried about what might happen.

“Let’s go,” he said.

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

Growing up in an extremely ultra religious, cult-like family was a mindfuck for multiple reasons but that doesn't stop unfortunately, even when you escape. For example, see: The overwhelming feeling of boiling hatred and shame for who you used to be.

The angry hatred for the past person I used to be, the version of myself that mindlessly parroted my family's beliefs and listened to their every command, constantly simmered under my skin and invaded my every thought. I was embarrassed of what I used to be- even as I made friends of different ethnicities and faiths, as I listened and explored new ideas and worlds that I never knew existed, as I started the first LGBTQ+ club at my school and volunteered with kids who deserved so much more- there was always a little voice in the back of my head.

"They would hate you if they knew what you were. They would hate the horrendous teachings that were seared into your mind, the things that you used to say and believe. You are nothing but a pretender."

And it is true that my beliefs were bigoted in all the worst ways. It is true that I believed truly heart-wrenching things without a second thought and judged others in such harsh and unfair ways. I told myself that there was no coming back from that, not really. There was nothing I could do to ever make up for it.

Then I remembered that the person who said those things wore velcro light up sneakers and collected finger puppets that the librarians handed out as awards for reading picture books. The person that held signs at pro-life rallies and anti-LGBTQ+ protests had a cherished sticker book and hunted minnows in the creek after school and adored their puffle on club penguin and was really into greek mythology and had skinned knees from climbing trees at recess and knew every Disney song by heart and was absolutely terrified of the dark.

That person was a child.

I was a child.

It took a really long time. Years and years of reflection and distance, but I've decided that I can't hate the past version of myself anymore. I feel pity and remorse, I feel anger- I feel so much fury and violent rage- at what my childhood was and I grieve what could- no, should- have been, but I no longer resent who I was.

I'm not ashamed.

I am so, so, so unbelievably proud of that little kid. For being brave enough to leave the comfort and safety of what I was told was right. For not being afraid to be wrong. For seeking out information and knowledge in a culture that praised ignorance. For questioning everything, relentlessly.

I am by no means a perfect person, I never have been and I never will, but I am proud of myself in every iteration that has ever existed because I know that I have never stopped trying to understand and learn and grow, and I never will.

If you have ever been in a similar situation and feel similar things, first of all: My condolences on your lost childhood. Second of all: Please be nice to that past version of yourself and recognize all the hard work they did to make you who you are today. That person was a survivor and an inspiration. They deserve nothing but love.

[chamaleonsoul]

@hoodharlow @arishemmo & @sunfleursky tagged me to post 8 shows to get to know me. thank you huns<3 (gonna list them as I think of them, not in a particular order)

1. Interview With the Vampire (2022). You don't understand. You Don't Understand. i'm traumatized, obsessed, in love, shooketh by this series. I have watched it at least 6-7 times now (it's only 7 ep so far and i started watching it about two weeks ago. I need psychiatric assistance etcetc). It's SO gay, bloody, romantic, comedic, dramatic, irrevent, campy, erotic, all the Good stuff. 100000000/10. i not only recommend but also FORCE YOU to watch it. Thanks.

2. Hannibal<3

3. Peaky Blinders

4. The Office

5. Criminal Minds

6. The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

7. The Good Place

8. Skins

i'm tagging @ghost-of-you @cowboy-buck @talkfastcal @the-girl-who-cried-wolf if u wanna!!

[kingkaizen]

𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓮𝓻

∘ desc: although things are going great with your boyfriend nanami, sometimes you think he's too nice in bed. who better to ask for some pointers than from nanami's opposite, gojo satoru <3

∘ ft: nanami & gojo

∘ word count: 2.7k

∘ includes: voyeurism, threesome, pussy slaps, spanking, face fucking, edging, dacryphilia, dirty talk

Nanami is the best boyfriend that you’ve ever had.

No matter everything that you’ve been through together in the last three years, nothing has ever made you doubt the amount of love you had for each other. You absolutely adored everything about him. After being friends for years before getting together, it wasn’t hard to fall so deeply in love with the man that he’s become. Being able to come home to him is everything that you’ve ever wanted and more.

But, of course, all relationships come with their issues.

When Nanami received a message from you saying that you had to talk, his heart immediately dropped. What could he have done wrong? Was today a special day that he forgot about? Did he accidentally leave the toilet seat up? What could possibly be it? He rushed home from work, unlocking the front door to see you sitting on the couch.

“Is everything okay?” Nanami questioned, slipping his shoes off and placing them neatly on the floor along with pinning his coat on the rack. “Your text worried me.”

“No, Kento. Everything is fine, I promise, come sit with me.” You gestured to the cushion next to yours, trying to keep him calm. You knew that texting him like that would elicit this concerned reaction, but what you’re about to say could not be said through a simple text message.

“Kento, when I say this to you, I need you to know that I love you so much and you are an amazing boyfriend okay?” Nanami nods his head slightly, eyebrows slowly coming together in complete anticipation of what’s about to come out of your mouth.

“I want you to start being rougher with me in bed.”

Finally coming out and saying it, you felt like a weight being lifted off of your chest. Nanami always treats you like glass, in and out of the bedroom. Although you love how gentle and loving he is with you, you need something more. You can’t help but think back to all of the times that he would come back home from work, irritated about something that happened. How good it would feel for him to take out those emotions on you. But, knowing your sweet boyfriend, that thought would never cross his mind. 

“Am I not satisfying you enough? I thought you enjoyed our intimate moments together…” Nanami responds, his brain thinking back to every single night you’ve spent together in the past. Why hasn’t he seen this before? Knowing that he hasn’t been satisfying you in the way that he thought hurt him much more than he was willing to admit right away.

“No, that’s not it at all. You know that you always make me feel good. I just want to change things up a bit, that’s all.” You placed an encouraging hand on his thigh, prompting him to look up at you. “I know you, Kento, don’t think too much into it. I love every moment that we have together, I just want us to try something different, that’s all.”

Nanami took in all of your words, making a pact to himself that he will change things for the better. He understands what you want, he’s just not sure how to fully give that to you. How he is in bed is exactly the way he is outside of that: sweet, loving, and overall just concerned. He would never forgive himself for hurting you in any capacity, so living up to your request will be a challenge for him. Who better to ask than his complete opposite in every single way?

“She wants you, Nanami Kento, to be rough?” Gojo almost can’t help but laugh at the thought. It’s not laughable because Nanami doesn’t have a rough side to him, Gojo of all people would know how it feels to be on the opposite end of that. The funny part is that he can’t imagine him being rough towards you. Even from an outsider looking into your relationship, anyone could see how he treats you.

“I didn’t tell you this so that you could laugh at me, Satoru, I’m asking for your help.” This request from Nanami also humored Gojo. Finally, after all of these years, Nanami is actually voluntarily asking for his help.

“How exactly do you expect me to help you? Do you need me to demonstrate?” Gojo laughed as he said this, waiting for Nanami to show some sort of disagreement in his face.

That look never came.

“That is actually exactly what I want you to do. I know the type of history that you two have, I’m not an idiot. All of these years since we’ve all been friends before we started dating, I would see the way you would look at each other. I know that there is chemistry there and I wouldn’t be surprised if you have been intimate before.” Nanami looked at Gojo, seriousness etched across his face. “I want you to show me how to treat her the way that she wants to be, I only want her to be happy.” As much as Nanami hates to admit when Gojo is better than him in any sort of way, he knows the truth when it comes to this. He sees how other women have fawned over him, and it must be for good reason.

“I’ll teach you how to fuck her like a slut.”

The sight of two shirtless men is enough to excite anyone. After telling Nanami what was on your mind, this is the last thing that you expected him to do. Of course he brought this up to you before this moment, always wanting to ensure your comfort. It was hard to disagree, you’ve been with Gojo years prior but it was never anything serious. Always flings, Gojo was never the “relationship type”. 

“So gorgeous, my love.” Nanami always admired how ethereal you looked, both in and out the bedroom. He caressed your face, planting soft yet firm kisses on your lips, growing more and more passionate by the second. Gojo was sitting on the chair in the corner of the room, watching with an intense gaze. You would think that having another man watching the two of you would freak you out, but it weirdly turned you on. Gently, as always, Nanami laid you down on the mattress, fingers finding their way to your covered breasts, exposing them to his hungry mouth. After moving the fabric, his lips puckered around your nipple, tongue pushing on the hardened nub as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Kento, I need you so bad.” You whimpered, the impatient side of you coming out already. You know Nanami, you know that it doesn’t take much begging to get what you want. You know how bad he wants you too, he can’t help but fully oblige to every word you say.

“I know honey, I’m going to give it to you.” Nanami had no self control when it came to you. Gojo rolls his eyes in the corner, finally making his presence known.

“Nanami, you can’t let her talk to you like that.” Gojo slowly began to touch his growing bulge through his pants. “It’s like you already forgot everything I told you.” He stood up and walked towards the two of you, Nanami moving to the side. Gojo gently gripped your chin, turning your head to look him dead in his eyes.

“If you want something from him, you’re going to have to earn it.”

You nodded your head, his authoritative tone sending a wave of pleasure throughout your body. Following his discrete directions, you kneeled in front of your boyfriend, fingers playfully toying with the zipper in his pants as you pulled it down along with the rest of it. You kissed his hard length through the last piece of fabric still left on his body, looking up at him through your lashes.

“D-Don’t tease me like that, (y/n)”. Nanami loved this obedient side of you, even if he wasn’t the reason you were acting this way. Before he could even process, Gojo lightly tapped the side of your ass, sending a slight sting throughout your body.

“Tease him like that again and you’re gonna have to make yourself cum. Now say sorry.” Gojo threatened, backing away once again to see how this unfolds. By now, he has fully released himself from the confines of his pants, fingers wrapping around his girth as he slowly began to pleasure himself at the sight.

“I’m sorry.” You looked up at Nanami once more, pulling away the last piece of clothing separating your awaiting mouth from his leaking tip. 

“I’m sorry what?” Gojo sneered.

“I’m sorry sir.” Your pleading voice made Nanami groan, watching as you finally began to wrap your lips around the tip of his cock. You began to put your tongue to work, swirling it around his head while keeping your lips firmly around the top, sucking in. Nanami could tell that you were still in a teasing mood, refusing to go any lower than that. Suddenly, you could feel his hand find its way to the back of your head, forcing you to let more of him in. Nanami would never do something like this normally, his forcefulness with you turning you on tremendously. Gojo laughed, approving of Nanami’s sudden confidence boost. It’s arousing to him too, watching you take all of him so deep in your mouth, gagging on his length as he throws his head back.

“That’s it, take it all.” Nanami grunts, “I love how messy you look, choking on me like that.” He could feel you moan around his length at his words, thighs rubbing together in anticipation of what’s to come. “I know how wet you are already, if you want some help you have to ask for it okay?” 

No matter what, Nanami is still always keeping your needs in mind, noticing how soaked you're starting to become. He removes himself from inside your mouth, allowing you to fully breathe. You look so beautiful, tears threatening to spill from your lash line and saliva coating around your mouth. He helps you back up to your feet, leading your body to lay backwards onto the bed, callused fingers catching any tears that manage to slip. “Tell me what you want.”

Your gaze moved from his eyes over to Gojo. “I want you both. Please sir, just touch me.” You felt pathetic as you begged, your core pulsing with need. You’ve never felt this sensitive before, everything feeling that much more intense given how hungry the two men in your presence are. 

“Aww, what a little slut you are.” Gojo grinned, making his way closer to you. “What do you think Nanami, has she been a good girl for us? Should we give her what she wants?” Gojo’s fingers began to rub on the outside of your panties. “Look at how wet she is for us.” Gojo showed Nanami your slick on his fingers, watching it glisten underneath the lowlight. 

“I think she has been a good girl.” Nanami smiles at you, so proud of how well you’ve been doing for them. “Go ahead, Gojo, you can touch her.”

“Finally.” Gojo quickly moved your panties to the side, the coolness of his touch catching you off guard as he teased the inside of your folds. “You don’t understand how torturous it was watching you without being able to touch you yet.” He makes quick work of finding your clit, slowly rubbing his thumb on your pearl as he watches you begin to writhe underneath. “Don’t forget why you’re here slut. You wanted to be treated like this so bad and now you got it. Beg for it.”

“P-Please Satoru, please touch me. I can’t take it anymore, I need it so bad.” You pleaded, beginning to feel helpless underneath him. Gojo smirked, plunging his slender fingers inside of you unexpectedly. You felt your body arch up in surprise, a gasp leaving your mouth as pleasure began to consume your body.

“So fucking greedy.” Gojo began slowly at first, catching a rhythm. “Look at how she’s drenching my fingers.” Nanami rubs himself at the sight, growing impatient. You’re too far gone to notice, feeling your own orgasm already beginning to slowly creep up in intensity. Before you know it, you're cumming all around his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Gojo quickly pulls his fingers out, not doing anything to help you ride it out. “Who told you that you could cum?” He taps his hand against your pussy repeatedly, watching you moan in a mix of pleasure and pain and you slowly come down from your high. “What a fucking whore.”

“I’m sorry sir, I couldn’t -fuck- I couldn’t help it.” You sob, looking at Nanami. You’ve never seen him look so angry. He didn’t say anything to you, only twirling his finger around, motioning for you to flip over. You quickly follow his que, not wanting to do anything to tick him off further. You can’t fully process that this is happening, your Nanami actually treating you this way.

You fucking loved it.

You felt his familiar touch rub over your ass as you got on all fours, arching your back slightly. He groaned at the sight of your wetness, glistening core almost calling out to him. He rubbed his tip against your folds, feeling your hole try to suck him in. Meanwhile, Gojo is sucking your juice off of his fingers, loving the taste of you.

“Get on with it Nanami, if she wants to be punished so badly then so be it.” Gojo made his way in front of you, rubbing the tip of his cock against your plush lips. “We told you what would happen if you didn’t listen, right? You have to be a bit smarter than that sweetheart.” The syrupy tone of his voice didn’t match his actions as he parted your lips with his head, feeling you wrap your lips against his girth. With that, Nanami finally pushed himself all the way in, moaning in unison along with you. Gojo could feel the vibrations of your moans against him.

Nanami gave you no time to adjust, pounding his entire length into you with such force that caused your mouth to hang open in shock. You felt so good, brain completely fogged over with no thoughts other than the complete monster that Nanami has become. He’s never fucked you like this, usually preferring soft thrusts over the hard pounding that he’s subjecting yourself to now. You suddenly felt a sharp slap on your ass, his large hand rubbing the sting away almost just as quickly as he placed it.

“Don’t ignore Gojo now, honey. I thought a slut like you would love to have two thick cocks filling you up this way?” Nanami questioned, picking up the pace which made it so much harder for you to focus. Gojo wasn’t having that. He placed one hand on each side of your face, holding it in place for him to thrust his hips against you. His cock filled your mouth, spit sloshing everywhere as your face got messier and messier.

“Fuck (y/n), you’re doing so fucking good for us princess.” Gojo moaned, the sounds coming from the room overwhelmed his senses. The bed creaking, you struggling to take Nanami while also pleasuring Gojo, and the sound of Nanami’s balls slapping against your ass sounded like music to his ears. Nanami couldn’t believe how hot this all was, feeling as your walls began to quiver around him.

“You’re gonna cum again baby?” Nanami asked, gripping your hips tighter as he felt himself get even closer. Gojo was already almost there, hips beginning to stutter as he watched you cry out. All you could do is whimper in response, the knot in your stomach growing tighter and tighter. Nanami made it there first, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he spilled himself inside of you. Ropes of cum flooded in as he fully pressed himself against you, beads of sweat threatening to drip off his nose. Gojo soon followed, shooting his load into your mouth as you took it all.

“Such a good girl.” Gojo mused, wiping the side of your mouth when he finished. He proceeded to kiss you, tasting himself on your tongue. Nanami pulled himself out slowly, watching in delight as his seed slowly dripped out of you. You whimpered at the now empty feeling, your orgasm slowly starting to retreat.

“You’re not going to finish me off?” You angrily turned to Nanami, watching the smirk begin to creep up his face.

“Not unless you beg for it.”

© kingkaizen | do not copy, steal, or duplicate!

[monicahar]

“what are you doing?”

you comically cower behind his back even further.

“hiding.”

“...why?”

“because there's a flipping lion in the room with us, JING YUAN. that's what.” you snap back angrily.

if you're wondering how you got into this predicament—it's not that far from being akin to a kidnapper leading on a child with sweets and delicacies.

under the guise of work and a few promised cuddles, he had made you follow his steps into his home—now with you glued to his body like it's your own lifeline. the snow-white lion snugly lies down by the only exit of the room you're both occupying—having just introduced herself when it came to jing yuan for a few pets, scaring the bejeebers out of you when its fur had grazed the back of your thighs all of a sudden.

the lion only shows confusion yet complies when jing yuan coaxed her to go away for a few moments. in other words—for you to take a breather.

in response to your much evident suffering and growing impatience, a mirthful laugh escapes him, craning his head to look at you over his shoulder to throw you a small mischievous grin “it's just my cat. i don't see the problem.”

“that's fully grown lion, you scoundrel!” you hit his back weakly, whisper-yelling as if said lion would attack you if you spoke any louder. “a-ah...it's looking at me weirdly. it's definitely thinking of how delicious i am!”

“mimi is very gentle. i doubt she's thinking of such a thing.”

you sink further in his shadow when the lion catches your wary gaze with a tilt of its head. “jing, please. it may like you, but i doubt that a territorial species would enjoy having a stranger around its person bubble.”

“you're free to leave anytime, darling. i'm not forcing you to stay.” he says coyly.

“with how your adorable little mimi is standing right by the door—i doubt i can leave of my own accord.”

“so you think she's adorable? good to hear that.” oh, now he has selective hearing?

“jing yuan. please.” you kneel down and tug on his robes pleadingly, catching him off guard to the point he has now decided to fully turn towards you in mild surprise. “i really don't know how to deal with this! i don't dislike her or anything, i'm just super scared that she won't like me and would—”

“calm down.” your lover couches down before you, hand raising to pat your head. “she doesn't bite. i promise.”

“how are you so sure?” you question incredulously, ignoring the way your heartbeat quickens at his actions. “even if she's domesticated, she's still an animal that thrives on her own survival instincts.”

“dearest, would i really have taken in a pet if it was openly feral?”

“yep. you would.” you reply in a heartbeat.

his eye twitches in return.“ahem—okay, so as i was saying,�� standing up to his full height, he stretches out a hand towards you, staring at you softly as he does so. “we both know i adore delicate and gentle things, [name]. mimi is exactly that—hence why i didn't mind taking her in and burdened you with meeting her.”

you raise a brow. he shrugs, opting to resign upon your obvious reluctance on the matter.

“truthfully, i wished to see my two favourite companions to bond and get along with my own two eyes,” he heaves an apologetic huff, a tad bit disappointed whilst you only stare in surprise, “but if you're really uncomfortable with it then i suppose i shouldn't force you.”

he helps you up with ease when you finally put your hand on his, hastily padding off the dust that was caught in your clothes upon kneeling down.

grasping your hand comfortingly to calm your nerves, you hate that it work flawlessly upon his touch.

“let's go?”

you were about to nod—until your gaze catches the lion's once more.

...pretty eyes.

snowmoon.

your heart clenches at the realisation.

“on second thought...” you trail off, watching as the mammal sits up in anticipation at your eye contact. jing yuan raises a brow at you, “i think i'll try interacting with her.”

he huffs out a deep chuckle, “really, you don't have to—”

“mimi?” you call out, leaning sideways to look past behind your lover's tall figure. he does the same, turning his head over his shoulder to look at the same direction you're fixated on.

the lion perks up, and starts walking towards you. you grin, but not before whispering back to jing yuan,

“if she actually bites me, we're breaking up.”

“no promises.”

you finally pat the lion's head after about an hour of excessive whining it'll bite you, finally havin found the courage to actually see it as a mere domesticated cat whilst glaring daggers at the owner.

“mimi...attack that bad guy.” you point at him, face still looking smug as ever.

“she won't listen to y—” said lion pounces on him.

idek what this is fiakehwjbsksbw i cant write no more man,,,,*/proceeds to make another jingyuan drabble in google doc

[cock-holliday]

I’m cropping you for your own privacy. I appreciate that you’re asking, but you are…wildly uninformed about this.

First, Pride is not BDSM-related. Every pride I have attended is extremely “family friendly” when it’s not an 18+ event, which makes it very clear that it’s an adult event and usually requires ID. It’s like any street festival. I’ve often seen more scantily clad Paddys parades. There’s Mardi Gras. You ever been to beach parties? I’ve seen more bare ass at a pool than I ever saw at Pride events. Pride is (frequently) a parade accompanied by cops and banks so nudity wouldn't be permitted, it's orgs tabling and handing out fliers, it's a dance party. It’s really not that serious.

Second, when it comes to things that make you uncomfortable, I promise you your discomfort does not mean you are not safe. Lemme repeat that: your discomfort does not mean you are unsafe. Public nudity is the absolute easiest thing to ignore. Turn your head. Walk away. I have seen cis guys plastered drunk in the city at football games pissing against the wall of a building and it's supremely easy to just go the other way. In the event you accidentally see a nipple or bulge or Idk, a leather belt? or whatever else you're so afraid of, it's not going to hurt you, and you can just walk away.

Third, any sexual elements of Pride come from the fact that sexuality was/is criminalized. People having a chaste kiss while queer is equated by bigots as being as heinous as fucking in the street. So people are going to be rowdy and unabashed about how their bedroom life is not going to be policed. Not by cops, not by you.

I went to a small town pride march where it was mostly queer teens and their parents and it was a chance for everyone to walk around with their flags and get ice cream. That's it. I've also been to +21 queer bar parties where people are topless or in assless chaps and wearing collars and have written obscene words on their bodies and that's also fine. I was not required to do anything I was uncomfortable with and I did not feel the need to tell others what to do. I could always leave. You can just leave things that make you uncomfortable.

Pride is a spectrum of experiences and nothing mainstream is going to be vulgar, and if it is to you, that is for you to reflect on, because why are silly outfits, or a nipple, or a leather hat so repulsive to you that you shake at the idea of not only seeing them, but merely being in the vicinity of where that might happen?

I am sorry you've been so convinced by homophobia that Pride is some scary place to be, and I had no doubts you haven't been before based on your questions. Ask what about it scares you so much. Ask what you can do to keep yourself safe and comfortable. And frankly just mind your business! If you wanted you'd be perfectly able to dance to some top-40 chart summer shit radio music and buy a slushie and get a g-rated rainbow keychain at the Target booth and be completely unhindered by others enjoying pride in their own ways.

[nathaslosthershit]

A Much Needed Interview (OP81)

(Part 2 of Teen Dad) Summary: After the shock of Oscar revealing himself to be a former teen dad, he joins an interview in the hopes of clearing everything up and limiting the overwhelming amount of questions he has been getting.

“Oscar, it is nice of you to sit down with us. I know it has been an interesting few weeks for you and your family. How are you guys all doing?” The interviewer asks.

‘Yeah, y’know, I had expected to one day have to open up about it all, but I never thought I’d have to do it the way I did. It has been fine, obviously my kids are young enough to not be impacted because they aren’t on social media, but it has been strange for my fiancée who is now getting hundreds of requests on her private account. I have sort of decided to take a break from social media because the response has been overwhelming and like none before. Mostly positive but I think a few people have gotten the wrong idea so I was hoping to clear everything up.” Oscar rambled. He was more nervous about this interview than any he had done before.

“Of course. Why don’t we start at the beginning, how did you and your fiancée meet?”

“We actually met at one of my races. She went to support one of her close friend’s brothers. After the race that I sadly didn’t do too well in, I saw her with her friend and I was kinda frozen in my spot, immediately head over heels. Sadly, it seems like everyone but her noticed. I was too scared to do anything so I just watched her leave. I think I sulked for days, totally regretting my decision to do nothing. A totally heartbroken 16 year old. I looked for her every single race until she finally came back a few months later.”

“Oh please tell me you finally got the confidence to shoot your shot.”

“Nope! I just stared at her and stuttered when she caught me looking then ran off. I then had an amazing race, I think part of me was just trying to make up for the embarrassment and luckily it seems my car got the memo. After the race she came up to me and asked for my number.” God, he was blushing profusely at the memory. He knew he would be getting slack for this for a very long time. 

“Such a story! The young Oscar Piastri was no ladies’ man.”

“He was absolutely not. Soon after we started dating.” Oscar awkwardly laughed, sensing what was about to come up.

“And then kids came shortly after?” The interviewer asked with care in his voice, certainly able to sense Oscar’s change in attitude.

“Yeah. Uh, obviously not planned. I don’t think many people plan to become parent’s at 18. It was a shock… I didn’t handle it the best at first, something I think I will always regret. She was scared and while so was I, I should have been more supportive. I was embarrassed for a while. Felt like a total idiot. I didn’t tell anyone outside of my family and made them swear to secrecy. I also began to isolate myself from friends because I couldn’t bring myself to tell them but also felt terrible lying. A few months in I finally snapped myself out of it and began to focus on all the wonderfulness that was to come. I loved her more than anything and I would be lying if I said I hadn’t already imagined a life together in great detail. By the time we found out it was twins, a boy and a girl, I was ecstatic.”

“Well mate, I don’t blame you for your feelings. I definitely would have been a terrible father at 18 so I salute you.” The interviewer joked.

“Honestly, I had the same thought for a while, even when I was excited to have kids. I had so many doubts about it, I mean how could I not? But when it came down to it, I couldn’t afford to be anything less than a great father. Of course I had my moments, and still do years later, but I wouldn’t be able to let myself be anything less than I am. If you love your kids enough, you find a way.”

“How did having kids so young impact your career? Obviously it didn’t hurt it too much considering you are in your second year driving in Formula 1.”

“Well, I decided I wouldn’t advertise my situation unless a team was very serious about me. Prema knew, Alpine did too and of course McLaren does. All were welcoming and accommodating, as much as they could be. I don’t think I would have gone with any of them if they weren’t cool with it though. I realized the minute my kids were born I would give it all up for them, which scared the hell out of me.”

“That is admirable. All these years later you are still with their mother, correct?”

“Yes! I asked her to marry me over break. Everyone close to us had been confused as to why it took so long but we had discussed marriage together many times and made the decision that because our relationship moved so fast with having kids so young, we would wait a bit. I mean, we are still young but I honestly couldn’t wait any longer. She is everything to me and the most wonderful mother my kids could have.”

“Have your kids been around the paddock yet? I assume they are old enough to understand what you do.”

“They have been to the factory and come with me to meetings when we haven’t had a sitter for them. Luckily, they are both very well behaved in public, they also really like watching the races on tv and have somewhat of an understanding of what I do. They don’t believe I actually drive the car though.” Oscar rumbled. Trying to convince his twins that yes, their father actually does drive the cars they see going super fast, has been an ongoing issue. They seem to believe he is tricking them but have no problem believing Uncle Logan and Uncle Lando drive the cars. It has definitely humbled him immensely.

“Well you will have to fix that soon huh? Will they be attending races in the future?”

“I am trying to work that out with my fiancée actually. They are almost four so we don’t want them traveling too far, I also don’t believe they will be able to be entertained solely by the race the entire time so we have a lot to deal with. But I think seeing them on the paddock supporting me will be one of the best moments of my life. I selfishly can’t wait for them to come.”

The interview wrapped up shortly after that. Getting to reminisce on the start of his relationship and how far they have come and how many wonderful things are in the future put Oscar in a deliriously happy mood. He couldn’t wait to get home to his family. 

Walking through the door, he was immediately welcomed to the sound of toddler meltdowns. Fully entering the house, he saw his very tired fiancée rubbing her face as she tried to calm her babies down. Clearly this had been going on for a while.

Despite how upset she looked, she immediately perked up at seeing Oscar had returned. But that immediately went away as she remembered the screaming kids and how messy the house and herself were.

“Sorry honey, I know you are probably so tired after the interview and meetings earlier and these two missed their nap so they are so cranky and I just-” He cut her off with a kiss. Once he pulled away she looked at him, perplexed. A kiss from Oscar was never unwelcome but it was the last thing she expected at that moment.

“Hey, look at me.” He said as he put a hand on her cheek. “I love you and our little family so much and you never, ever have to apologize for something as trivial as this. Why don’t you go get in the bath and relax a little and I will try to wrangle these two, okay?” 

In her eyes, Oscar had never been hotter than he was now. Now it was her turn to surprise him with a kiss, even more passionate than the first. They would have continued if it hadn’t been for more screaming from their two kids.

Still, Oscar wouldn’t change a thing.

[rebeccathenaturalist]

ETA: I wrote up a guide on clues that a foraging book was written by AI here!

[Original Tweet source here.]

[RANT AHEAD]

Okay, yeah. This is a very, very, very bad idea. I understand that there is a certain flavor of techbro who has ABSOLUTELY zero problem with this because "AI is the future, bro", and we're supposed to be reading their articles on how to use AI for side hustles and all that.

I get that ID apps have played into people's tendency to want quick and easy answers to everything (I'm not totally opposed to apps, but please read about how an app does not a Master Naturalist make.) But nature identification is serious stuff, ESPECIALLY when you are trying to identify whether something is safe to eat, handle, etc. You have to be absolutely, completely, 100000% sure of your ID, and then you ALSO have to absolutely verify that it is safely handled and consumed by humans.

As a foraging instructor, I cannot emphasize this enough. My classes, which are intended for a general audience, are very heavy on identification skills for this very reason. I have had (a small subsection of) students complain that I wasn't just spending 2-3 hours listing off bunches of edible plants and fungi, and honestly? They can complain all they want. I am doing MY due diligence to make very sure that the people who take my classes are prepared to go out and start identifying species and then figure out their edibility or lack thereof.

Because it isn't enough to be able to say "Oh, that's a dandelion, and I think this might be an oyster mushroom." It's also not enough to say "Well, such-and-such app says this is Queen Anne's lace and not poison hemlock." You HAVE to have incredibly keen observational skills. You HAVE to be patient enough to take thorough observations and run them through multiple forms of verification (field guides, websites, apps, other foragers/naturalists) to make sure you have a rock-solid identification. And then you ALSO have to be willing to read through multiple sources (NOT just Wikipedia) to determine whether that species is safely consumed by humans, and if so if it needs to be prepared in a particular way or if there are inedible/toxic parts that need to be removed.

AND--this phenomenon of AI-generated crapola emphasizes the fact that in addition to all of the above, you HAVE to have critical thinking skills when it comes to assessing your sources. Just because something is printed on a page doesn't mean it's true. You need to look at the quality of the information being presented. You need to look at the author's sources. You need to compare what this person is saying to other books and resources out there, and make sure there's a consensus.

You also need to look at the author themselves and make absolutely sure they are a real person. Find their website. Find their bio. Find their social media. Find any other manners in which they interact with the world, ESPECIALLY outside of the internet. Contact them. Ask questions. Don't be a jerk about it, because we're just people, but do at least make sure that a book you're interested in buying is by a real person. I guarantee you those of us who are serious about teaching this stuff and who are internet-savvy are going to make it very easy to find who we are (within reason), what we're doing, and why.

Because the OP in that Tweet is absolutely right--people are going to get seriously ill or dead if they try using AI-generated field guides. We have such a wealth of information, both on paper/pixels and in the brains of active, experienced foragers, that we can easily learn from the mistakes of people in the past who got poisoned, and avoid their fate. But it does mean that you MUST have the will and ability to be impeccably thorough in your research--and when in doubt, throw it out.

My inbox is always open. I'm easier caught via email than here, but I will answer. You can always ask me stuff about foraging, about nature identification, etc. And if there's a foraging instructor/author/etc. with a website, chances are they're also going to be more than willing to answer questions. I am happy to direct you to online groups on Facebook and elsewhere where you have a whole slew of people to compare notes with. I want people's foraging to be SAFE and FUN. And AI-generated books aren't the way to make that happen.

[azullumi]

trying different types of kissing with scaramouche?💔 like forehead, neck kisses, hand or anything at all....

“say yes to heaven” ; wanderer/scaramouche

summary — ultimately, he really does just want to be loved, behind the many layers of him to hide all that yearning and longing. but how can he say it when love, for him, was a synonym to forgiveness; alternatively, different kisses with him, with each one signifying a progressing relationship.

pairing — scaramouche/wanderer (w/ gender-neutral reader) ; could imagine this with either but i wrote this with wanderer in mind

tags — established relationship, fluff, a little bit of angst, not proofread, 1.1k ; ficlet

note — i needed an excuse to write a fic that is just all about kissing him and also comforting him (but still, i hope u like this nonnieee!!)

i. hand

You hold his hand and press small kisses on his knuckles, a little bit ticklish it was for him but he doesn’t retract. The feeling of it makes something in his chest ache with an unfamiliar sensation, and he knows it’s not his heart because he never had any.

You kiss the back of his hand, an intimate gesture, like devotion, like he was something—or someone—that should be adored.

“I am no god.” He was no deity to be worshiped so why are you so gentle to him? He wasn’t made of glass nor is he fragile; he was born from ashes of a burned home, he was carved out of war and winter storms and everything that you could ever pray against, he was a symphony composed of nothing but bad luck and conflicting melodies—he was not the kind people would choose to be around, much less adore.

And as if you bear a part of him in your mind, you understood what he was trying to say, could hear the questions that tormented him, could see the conflicted look on him as he looks at you with a gaze that seems to scrutinize your being when only he is looking for an answer. He tries to look for a crack, a gap in your expression, so that he can look through it and see what you’re really thinking.

“You don’t have to be one to be loved.” You press one last kiss on his hand just as you finished speaking, looking up to him. Indigo blue orbs met yours in a gentle gaze, eyes filled with affection only for the other to drown in. If he could put all that he was feeling, all that he was asking and seeking an answer to, into a simple word, it all condenses to: why?

“Do you still have doubts?” You ask, despite knowing the answer. He opens his mouth only to close it again, looking for the words that he should say but chose to be silent instead. And you smile—not a beaming grin nor a subtle paint on your features, but something gentle and comforting as if you’re assuring him: it’s okay, I understand you. I know you.

“You’re not unloveable.”

Loving him wasn’t the hardest thing to do, it came to you naturally as if breathing but the man thinks otherwise. A burnt child who loves the fire will only hear the fact that he is loveable, people just choose not to.

“How do you know that?” You know him well enough to hear the way his voice trembles at the effort to allow himself to be vulnerable. Long was the fall of the tall and formidable walls that he built around him.

“You’re not unloveable.” You repeat, taking hold of his fingers to kiss his hand once more. “Am I not enough proof of that?”

ii. forehead and cheeks

You cupped his cheeks and kissed his forehead, an unspoken language of tenderness in which he took a long time to understand. When love and affection has finally been given to him after decades of yearning, he’s unsure of how to hold it in his hands—does he gently hold it with both? Every bit overwhelms him to the bone, the gratifying yet intense feeling seeps through his being and settles inside of him in a way that it slowly consumes the crevices of his mind, until all that is left of him is nothing but a starved man who only longs for the feeling of your skin against his own.

There was a flicker of warmth in his expression and he closed his eyes as he relished in your kindness, your hands cradling his cheeks with warmth that coaxed his entire existence, your lips pressing against his forehead softly. Then, you started to pepper his face with small kisses and the man could only surrender to your touch, a dance of vulnerability and intimacy as he crumbled into your hold.

No one has ever come this close to him (a closeness that was a stranger to the pages of his past, a tender note composed solely for him), no one and nothing.

You spoke, murmuring against his skin and close to his lips: “Sunshine.” Humor weaves through your tone, teasing the absurdity of the mismatched title and the man who wears it with subtle grace.

“Don’t call me that.” He snarks yet no bite. It’s ironically funny how you use that nickname on him despite him being the complete contrast of it; he stands as the living paradox of the word itself.

The sound of laughter bubbles up in your throat and you answer, “Why not? It suits you perfectly, don’t you think?”

What else should you call the man who grasps the warmth and tender light in his chest only the sun could give? To be with him was to sit in the autumn sunlight, to sleep in the comfort of your sheets when the rain patters against your window, to walk barefoot on the sand even if it feels like shards of glasses against your sole, to be with him was to simply exist; you’ve never met anyone who had the sun for a soul and he has never met anyone who had the stars in their eyes, and while you had the universe etched on the palm of your hands, he has your name engraved on his.

iii. lips

Your lips ghost against his own, albeit in a tantalizing manner, teasing and quite slow—but he wasn’t a patient man.

“Are you going to kiss me or what?” He whispers and you don't waver at his straightforwardness, having been used to this note. There was no hostility in his tone, just pure and raw desperation and desire to feel you.

You could imagine the eye roll he would give you had he not had his eyes closed at the moment, could imagine the frown on his expression while he spoke and could imagine it faltering soon when you finally kissed him, slow as if to savor the softness of his lips and how it reminds you of spring; he could not properly express the warmth on his chest at the thought of how you love him when he still tasted of heartache and war.

You part from him but remained close, foreheads pressed against one another, breathing heavily, and looking into each other’s eyes. You wanted to tell him that you will find him in every lifetime, but the silence between you two was enough to convey such strong affections that you could hear him respond: And I will love you in each one.

(And he somehow finds himself thinking at the same, this is what he deserves. He’d do these, these vulnerable moments where he lays himself bare for you to touch and hold even if you’ll see the scars and cracks on his skin, the falling and getting hurt despite the fear, the burning and constant searching for something, he’ll do it all over again—if it’s you.)

If someone were to ask him what forgiveness tastes like, he would utter your name—everything that he has ever longed for came in the form of you. And he fears that this longing will last forever even while you’re here, that this longing will grow even when he crumbles to dust, that this longing will outlive this body and weave life into the earth that swallows your existence.

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[boiohboii]

The Royal Way 《Pt.2》

(Leclerc!reader x Prince of Monaco!oc)

After his older sister marries into the Monaco Royal family, Charles knew he would be treated differently, to his surprise (and his sister's disappointment) his F1 team, ferarri, treated him the same way.... and that did not sit well with the new princess of Monaco

or

in which YN Leclerc uses her new familial connections to fuck up ferarri just like how they fucked up her baby brother's hopes and dreams.

N.B: so, this was supposed to be longer and the last part, but it's currently 3 AM and I have classes at 8 AM thus me splitting this little fic into a trilogy. Hopefully, I will have time tomorrow to post the third and final part! Thank you for reading and let me know what you think!! WARNINGS: NOT REALISTIC AT ALL!! if you are looking for a realistic revenge sort of plot, it is not here, I tried as best as I can to search up what the whole electronic system does and it's relation to the DRS, BUT I AM BY NO MEANS AN EXPERT NOR HAVE ENOUGH KNOWLEDGE, SO EXCUSE THE POOR RESEARCH. The car designs are from Pinterest... Some swear words (fuck, bitch, etc...) Let me know if I missed anything else please!

Faceclaims:

yn leclerc --> anya taylor joy

Prince Thierry --> louis partridge

Masterlist // part 1

Liked by ferrariisdone, charlesthefrench, leclercfam and 716,920 others

F1_updates_live: Prince Thierry and Princess YN Leclerc heading into the Ferrari motor home in LA. Neither of the Royals look ecstatic to be in this position and it's no doubt to do with the statement released by Ferrari's Formula one media team, where they had essentially blamed the newly wedded Princess, YN Leclerc and their own driver, Charles Leclerc, for his DNF in the previous GP.

username: let them cook

username: the amount of bodyguards they have is insane

username: they do not look happy

username: yeah, no shit sherlock, ferrari basically said that it was yn's fault that Charles is distracted

username: ferrari blaming everyone but themselves

LEAKED AUDIO FROM LAS VEGAS GP, FERRARI'S MOTORHOME: tensions rise in the Ferrari garage as the young royals of Monaco, Prince Thierry and Princess YN Leclerc, threaten Fred Vasseur of taking him to court after buying out the rest of Charles' contract with Ferrari.

(Princess YN Leclerc,Prince Thierry, Fred Vasseur)

"It has been proven time and time again that the team is so incompetent! Why won't you do any changes?"

"Do you think that it's easy? These are people's livelihoods we are talking about"

"You do realise you are talking to a princess, right? She is well aware of how to run a business and a team, unlike you."

"I am just saying that I can't just fire people because Charles can't manage the car!"

"CAN'T MANAGE THE CAR? Are you out of your fucking mind mr. Vasseur? There is evidence, very strong evidence for your information, that the problem was from the electronic system. Do you have any idea how fucked up your engineers and strategists have to be to send out a car with failed electronic system?"

"Correct me if I am wrong my darling, but don't the electronic system control the DRS?"

"Mmhhmmm"

"And if the DRS opens in a corner it might result in a crash, am I correct mr. Vasseur?"

"The DRS was fine, there was-"

"My husband is asking a yes or no question Fred."

"Yes."

"So basically, Ferrari's Formula one team had, intentionally and with their knowledge, put a member of the monegasque royal family in direct danger."

"But Charles isn't a member of the royal family! He is only YN's half brother!"

"PRINCESS YN MR VASSEUR! YOU WILL DO WELL TO REMEMBER THAT!"

"Charles is my brother, and you dare put him in harm's way. I am princess YN Leclerc of Monaco, I can and I will hold you accountable as the principal of this team."

"You can't do anything! Carlos had the same car-"

"Carlos did not have the same car and you know it!"

"We already know Fred, we have had professional inspections done on both cars, it's quite deceiving really, telling a driver that he's the priority and still disappointing him every single time."

🔊 a thud is heard 🔊

"This is the amount of money to buy Charles out of Ferrari, but don't spend it Fred, we will be getting it back in court."

"YN WHAT WE-"

"PRINCESS YN FRED! *sigh* it seems like no matter what you are still convinced that you and your workers did no wrong, we will see about that."

"There is only one race left, there will be no team to take in Charles now!"

"Oh, we are not looking for a team to take him in, we made a team for him."

{Taglist: @phillydilly @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @omgsuperstarg @formulas-bitch @brakingboundaries @kyuupidwrites}

[genderkoolaid]

yeah, but you do mean 'loveless' like 'romanceless' right? Just cause you're not interested in a romantic partnership, and you're never attracted to anyone romantically, that doesn't mean you can't love your family and your friends. Am I understanding wrong? I feel like it's a widely accepted concept that 'love' isn't just romantic, it's about caring about someone, no matter if they're your family or platonic friend or your pet.

No, "loveless" means love-less. Another anon also asked me to explain as well so:

"Lovelessness" in the aro context comes from the essay I Am Not Voldemort by K.A Cook. The essay confronts normative ideas on love, its inherent positivity and what it means to not love. From the introduction, which brings up the question of non-romantic love:

This June, I saw an increasing number of positivity and support posts for the aromantic and a-spec communities discussing the amatonormativity of “everyone falls in love”. I agree: the idea that romantic love is something everyone experiences, and is therefore a marker of human worth, needs deconstruction. Unfortunately, a majority of these posts are replacing the shackles of amatonormativity with restrictive lines like “everyone loves, just not always romantically”, referencing the importance of loving friends, QPPs, family members and pets. Sometimes it moves away from people to encompass love for hobbies, experiences, occupations and ourselves. The what and how tends to vary from post to post, but the idea that we do and must love someone or something, and this love redeems us as human and renders us undeserving of hatred, is being pushed to the point where I don’t feel safe or welcome in my own aromantic community. Even in the posts meant to be challenging the more obvious amatonormativity, it is presumed that aros must, in some way, love. I’ve spent weeks watching my a-spec and aro communities throw neurodiverse and survivor aros under the bus in order to do what the aromantic community oft accuses alloromantic aces of doing: using their ability to love as a defence of their humanity. Because I love, they say, I also don’t deserve to be a target of hatred, aggression and abuse. But what if I don’t love? What if love itself has been the mechanism of the hatred and violence I have endured? Why am I, an aro, neurodiverse survivor of abuse and bullying, still acceptable collateral damage?

The author criticizes the idea of "true love" that is incapable of harm. Ze questions why we construct love in that way, and how it ignores and simplifies the experiences of victims of abuse ("It’s comforting to think that a love that wounds isn’t real love, but it denies the complexity of experience and feeling had by survivors. It denies the complexity of experience and feeling that makes it harder for us to identify abuse and escape its claws. It denies the validity of survivors who look at love and feel an honest doubt about its worth, as a word or a concept, in our own interactions and experiences.") Ze talks about being forced to say "I love you" to transphobic, abusive parents whose feelings of love was the justification for their abuse.

The core of what "loveless" as an concept is about is summed up in this quote:

There is no substantial difference between saying “I’m human because I fall in love”, “I’m human because I love my friends” and “I’m human because I love calligraphy”. All three statements make human worth contingent on certain behaviours, feelings and experiences. Expanding the definition of what kinds of love make us human does nothing but save some aros from abuse and antagonism … while telling survivor and neurodiverse aros, who are more likely to have complex relationships to love as a concept or are unable to perform it in ways recognised by others, that we’re still not worthy.

Lovelessness is against any kind of statement which quantifies humanity (and implicitly, human worth) in the ability to feel or act or experience certain things. Humans are human by virtue of being human, and nothing else. And, it is socially constructed! "Love" has no natural definition! Some people are not comfortable using "love" to describe positive feelings and relationships, and some people do not feel those positive feelings in general. And those people deserve the right to define their own experiences and their own relationship to the social construct of love.

In essence, lovelessness is both a personal as well as (in my opinion) a political identity, born from aro and mad experiences that challenges not just amatonormativity but all ideas that associate personhood and worth with the ability to feel certain things.

& as a note, there is also the term "lovequeer" which describes using the term "love" in ways which contradict mainstream understandings of what it means to love, and which kinds of love are considered worthwhile.

[gorgeouslypink]

everything about the void state | vanilla explain's

A few things to note. First of all, Vanilla was a very knowledgeable and supportive master shifter on DRA (a shifting amino community). You can read some of their other posts and you'll understand they really know their stuff and have dedicated a lot of time to understand this. Second, after reading this post, you'll understand why the void state isn't "just a method."

Here is the link to the og post: link

hello and welcome to this post! i am currently fighting against all the misinformation about the void state in this community and of course i had to post a full guide about it! here you'll read what the void is, what it's not, why it's extremely cool and multiple guides how to enter it!

table of content

i. intro

ii. the void

- what is it

- what is it not

- why the void state

- what it "looks like"

iii. how to enter it

- the "before state"

- awake

- sleep

- other ways

- affirmations

iv. q & a

v. outro

i. intro

in this post i talk about everything in context of the void state. i explain in deep detail what it actually is, clear up more misinformation, how to enter it in a lot of different ways, why the void is really nice and useful and in the end even have a q&a for everyone that got questions! you will notice how insane many misinformation are here. not just a few but full "guides" and "explanations" with it. please do not blame the creators for spreading them more! if you thought the same, you also could've been one of the people making posts about it.

ii. the void

let's start with the actual topic. to explain what the void is we have to know what exactly we are at first. so, what are we, what are you? you are an awareness. that means you are a tiny swabble-bubble thingy that experience the multiverse. right now you are on the physical plane so you see, hear, feel, smell, and taste. you can do a lot more things but the only important one is that you exist. you have no original appearance or identity (that's another topic) at this moment you are just you. you experience the 3d as y/n y/l/n. there are a few more things of course like your subcons and all that but it is not important for us now.

what is it?

we know that we are an awareness currently on the physical plane. we don't have an original identity we belong to as much as a reality. so what happens if we leave the 3d? is that even possible? yes, yes it is. that is the void state. the void means that you leave the physical plane. that is all. it is nothing special or unusual. the void state is the state of awareness. you, the tiny swabble-bubble thingy, exist there in your purest, most natural form. you could say the void is your home. when you aren't in a reality, you are in the void state. it's where you always return to and there is nothing more natural for you. you are just power, happiness, and peace there. nothing from the 3d can effect you anymore, your mind get's a whole reset. what does that mean? you have to know that you, the awareness, are not meant to doubt, have limited beliefs, worries, fears, trauma. it isn't natural or normal for you. you have them here on the 3d because they are physical circumstances. once you leave the physical plane, it of course means that they don't exist anymore. you enter it and BOOM they get completely erased. you won't even understand how you could believe such stuff after that. as you can see, the void is the state where you exist in your most "original" form, even if you don't have any identity or something like that.

what is it not

this is gonna be a long, long list. i'll actually make bullet points with everything i've ever heard here so you don't have to ask in the comments "someone said it is xy, is that true?". you can be very very sure that everything here in this list got 100% nothing at all to do with the void state. in the end i'll talk about the most drastic thing's but i also explained a lot already in my post about misconceptions.

- "body asleep, mind awake"

- meditation

- dreaming

- sats

- a sleep state

- the god state (mindset definition)

- theta state

- the "before state"

- relaxation

- the thing after you woke up

- being " in your brain"

- any other physical state at all⠀ ⁣⠀⁣⠀ ⁣⠀⁣⠀ ⁣⠀ ⁣⠀⁣⠀ ⁣⠀ ⁣⠀⁣⠀ ⠀ ⁣as you can see, you guys came up with a lot of things! you may already understood, the void means leaving the physical plane, so its being a physical state is absolutely impossible. you do not notice it on the 3d. at all. it is just not possible. many, many ask me "why didn't i shift from the void" but tell me a few sentence later "and i only felt my body a little bit" and i sit there like "okay, i'll start from the very beginning".

so please guys, in the void you leave the physical plane. you have no body. you can't feel anything physical at all. when you "felt your body only a little bit" you weren't even near the void. once you entered it, the physical plane doesn't exist for you anymore. with these very important information we can just ignore 10 things from the list now because we know that they aren't true at all. last but not least "it is the god state". but what is the god state? there are two main definitions here 1. just another term for the void so it's totally okay to say it, but what many here mean is 2. the "god state" mindset. that's a bit tricky, the second meaning is just a mindset. it represents your natural state of mind where you are limitless and powerful. you have it immediately in the void BUT if you have it here on the 3d you are not automatically in the void. you are still on the physical plane. tiny but important difference.

why the void state

you may already thought "damn, that sounds cool" but do you know how cool it actually is? besides that you finally align with your natural state of mind, that the void is pure happiness, peace, and joy, that you can chill there as much as you want, you can also do everything you want!! whatever it is, there are no limits. so here a few things you may don't know you can do:

- change the past

- skip time

- change your whole appearance to your liking

- shift everywhere

- manifest to wake up every night in the void

- manifest the future

- erase things (f.e. racism etc)

- manifest to always shift instantly

- change everything about your life

- manifest to lucid dream every night⠀ ⁣

as you can see, a lot more than many people think of. and the coolest?? it is instantly, in the very moment you want it, 100% reality. in the void the 3d/4d time gap can not exist because you are ABOVE the 3d. in the void you and your subcons work completely together that means that you literally give the commands. what do you have to do for it? want it. you don't even need affirmations or anything. you just want it and it is reality, no other possible outcome. in the void you can not fail, never and with nothing. if you ever thought you were in the void but "didn't shift" this is your clear sign that you were definitely not in the void. you are pure power there, it is impossible for you to fail at anything.

what it "looks like"

a question many, many have! what do you see in the void? actually you see nothing. you have nothing to see, you have no eyes. that's something most people are afraid of, deep, endless black and nothingness. but that's not the whole answer. you can customize your void! you have something called a "mental image". it is a picture you have in your mind and that is what you see. you can change it to your liking, very common here are galaxies. you could compare it to very, very vivid visualization but you don't have to focus on it and it's completely natural. you see whatever you want to see in the void. if you don't want black nothingness, you won't have it. very simple. so please don't be scared!

iii. how to enter it

there are a lot of ways to enter the void! you can basically leave the 3d through everything you want but of course a few things are easier for the mainstream than others. just try what you like and don't think you have to enter it immediately. i always compare it to speaking a language after a long ass break. it's weird and maybe seems hard, but every day you get more confident and notice how easy it is. that's the exact same with the void. everything is progress because every single thing is one step closer to being comfortable.

the "before state"

a term you guys hear extremely often from me. i came up with it because this was also a misinformation. but wait, what is it?? the so called "before state." it describes the time where you, the awareness, get ready to leave the physical plane. it always happens and especially beginner can feel A LOT there. it is the state where you feel like spinning, floating, falling all at once with tingles, dizziness, and confrusion. some time ago people said that this is the void. it is not. that's, as you already know by now, something that happens before you enter the void. many feel it, some do not and that is completely okay. for most people that actually feel it this intense it get's less and less every time they try. like you get more and more used to the idea of the void state, you know? you mostly witness it when you try to enter it awake or through a physical state. if you think you can not stand it, that's okay, you got enough other ways!

awake

made for biginner and everyone else

-before doing anything, ask yourself what you wanna do there? do you wanna chill a bit, manifest something, shift? with the intention or affirmations? if you can answer that you're good to go

-maybe put your phone away really quick to just calm down a bit so you're not full of energy while trying. you could draw something instead?

-lay down in a position where you know that it won't distract you. nothing that hurts or is uncomfortable

-now it helps many (especially when it's your fist attemps) to have a vague "plan". do you wanna visualize? affirm? counting?

-if you wanna relax more you can take a few breaths at the beginning

-after that try to just don't care about your body. don't care about your breath (and DON'T focus on it!!), you can count or start visualizing/affirming till you reach a deep deep relaxed state

-now you'll probably start feeling A LOT. physically and mentally (i don't talk about the itchy-pain feeling, that's just you body). your body will feel like floating, spinning and falling at the same time, you'll be dizzy and "confused". that's okay and totally normal. just stand it, do not fight it*

-if you have trouble affirming while that happen just think about it, it doesn't have to be very specific

-after that you'll feel nothing, absolutely nothing

-then you'll leave the physical plane, you'll just know it because you feel inner peace and happiness and calm

*this is the before state and will most probably get less intense every time you try sleep

you can also enter it with a sleep method! a thing not many people know but that's why we are here, right? just go to bed, now you can do several things

- listen to subliminals

- affirm

- visualize

- have mental conversations about the void

- just set your intention

you can do all, you can do none, just one, whatever you want. it is like the intention for shifting just with the difference that you wanna leavsle the 3d and not change your physical environment. it is the method many people use when they have problems with the before state, don't wanna lay still or have no time for it. you can do it anytime, everywhere. if you focus right now on lucid dreaming? awesome, you can still intend. in fact, the intention is exactly equally progress as when you try it awake. so it's definitely not just a "lazy version"!

other ways

as said, you can leave the physical plane through everything but here are some of your favorites:

- lucid dreaming

you can do it already or practice it right now? awesome! maybe try to enter the void state throught it. once the dream is lucid start to say affirmations, visualize or intend. or whatever you feel called to do

- physical states

you can reach sats easily? the theta state? you meditate or are able to disconnect from your body?use it for the void state if you want. if you can enter one of these and it helps you to disconnect from the physical world, that is really great. do whatever you want to do or ate able to. the same recommended as always, visualization, affirmations, no matter what you like the most

- " is this even real?"

you know the moment when life feels kinda unreal?when you look at the physical world and genuinely question how this can be reality? these are great moments to affirm you are in the void! if it feels unreal, who could proof that you aren't in the void?

- subliminals

got no time or just don't wanna try? there are many good subliminals out there to enter the void state. personally i recommend solars one. just listening to subliminals can also bring you in the void. they send clear commands of what you want to your subconscious mind and it will just say "oh, wanna leave? okay got you sweetie!"

affirmations

- i am pure awareness

- i am pure consciousness

- i am in the void

- i am in the void state

- i leave the physical plane

- i leave the 3d

- i completely disconnect from the 3d

- i can not get influenced by anything physical

- i am just pure awareness

- i have my natural state of mind

- i have my natural power

- i am home

- the void is my home

- i am where i'm supposed to be

- i leave the physical plane behind me

- i leave my body behind me

- i am pure nothing

- i want to leave the physical plane

- i am comfortable with leaving the physical plane

- leaving the physical plane is natural for me

- i am used to leave the physical plane

- i am used to being the void

- the void is my natural place

iv. q & a

just ask anything in the comments and i'll answer it here! or if you want you can take a look at my ask me anything - void state related, there are also a lot different questions!

q: do you feel unconditional love in the void?

a: you could describe it like that. you feel truly happy, at peace, calm, loved, secure, all the positive things you naturally should feel :smile:

q: Hey! Even if I don’t practice it awake and just intent to get into void state and sleep will my body get used to leave the 3D?

a: absolutely!! it's the same amount of progress :smile:

v. outro

this was my post about the void state and the first part of "vanilla explain's" my series where i explain things to you that aren't very common here! if you have wishes and ideas, let me know. please also comment every question you may have about the void state

[nabitsun]

SPINE BREAKER

fem! reader x nerdy! choso

᭝ synopsis : who knew you just needed good dick from a nerdy boy to lose that attitude.

᭝ tags: smut & little angst? uni (both in their 20s), reader is kind of a minx but you'll pick that up.. (well, all reader's friends are), oral sex (f), pussyjob, unprotected (pull out game 10/10), uhh sweet choso duh <3

᭝ wc: 11.5k ...

᭝ notes: t'was supposed to be a one-scene typa oneshot but got carried away - blame it on nerdy! choso. (i remixed that shit 4 times)

"shoko.."

"what is it?"

"no need to put these under my nose i've told you, i'm not coming." you slap her hand away gently, she's holding two entries for a random party in town.

"oh but you will." she smiles.

you know you will, you always do.

"c'mon i have two entries? i can't waste them."

"exactly, ask yuki to come with you."

"she also bought two entries, she's already coming with someone else."

you give her a quizzical look,

"i don't know any better, she didn't say."

"she's probably inviting aoi over again, God.. another reason to not come.." you shake your head at the sole thought of the man.

"who's that?" she says, switching up outfits in front of her as she ponders in front of the mirror.

"y'know that meathead eccentric guy who's like, super fan of her,"

"ohh, that one.." she hums in thoughts "mh, i doubt it though. the last time he was here, he didn't leave with that same smug face. if he keeps getting into trouble the way he does, I doubt she'll invite him back."

she's referring to the last time yuki invited aoi to one of these parties, not to sugarcoat anything but he definitely learnt the hard way to not be an arrogant show off.

"i hope not." you mumble

"stop trying to find excuses. you're coming with me, we're gonna have a good time, end of story."

you let out a crude laugh, "let me rephrase. you're gonna have a good time, and i am gonna get bored out of my mind." you can see her roll her eyes, "i don't even see the point of going there."

"because you don't try to have fun."

"if trying to have fun implies rubbing myself on some smelly drunk strangers with shitty ass songs in the background, then yeah i'd rather not try."

"you're no fun, it's not that bad."

"it's not that bad until you reach your fifth drink" you quick back as you cross your arms over your chest as if to withdraw from this endless battle that you know, will defeat you.

"aren't you being a little dramatic, now?" shoko barely looks at you with raised eyebrows. she knows as well as you do that beyond her tolerance limit she's no longer controllable, which is why you've spent many nights taking her home and trying - as best you could - to bring her back safe and sound. she won't admit it though.

you dismiss the (probably) rhetoric question, "since yuki's coming, why do you want me to go so bad?"

"what a silly question." she sighs as if she'd heard a child say the most gullible nonsense, "i like having you around, that is all."

"something is tellin' me you don't wanna end up third wheeling," you sing song.

"shut up.. you're coming anyway." she avoids your stare and lets out a heavy sigh, "you like the blue one?" she twirls the dress on its hanger around and turn over to face you, she tilts her head on the side as if to weight your future answer.

"i like the purple better."

"that's what i was thinking.."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

being confided in the car with a loquacious shoko didn't help the growing headache you felt in the back of your skull. it had been a tough week.

your exams were approximately in a week and just thinking about it actively made your head hurt even more, and your throat tightened with culpability.

"hey, don't die on me now." shoko glares at you from the side as she's driving to the house. you feel her checking you multiple times.

"i'm fine," you sigh, rubbing your temples in an attempt to soothes the growing pain – that eventually worsened when shoko suddenly hit the brakes, a bit too abruptly to your liking, at a stop sign.

"girl, you either need a good night sleep or some good dick." she clicks her tongue, "look at you," she emphasizes by shaking her head as if the sole sight was too much for her.

"focus on not getting us crashed already."

"i'm serious though, you want some water?"

"no–no, i told you i'm okay." you look ahead of you, resting your head against the headrest for some support ; flashes of cars and traffic lights interacting in the night, "you drive like shit though."

"wow. okay, you'll show me how much of a good driver you are when you'll drive me back tonight, yeah?" she chuckles, taking a second turn on a new avenue.

"having you drunk in the back of the car is a constant fight of trying to not make you throw everything up, of course i have to drive nicely."

you see your friend nodding as she taps her fingers on the steering wheel, apparently at loss of words.

"mhm, thanks?"

you relax back with a content smile, "i prefer that,"

the house is not so far from your respective apartments, also not far from your university, which is around a fifteen minutes drive.

you can't really be mad at shoko for dragging you to those places ; the kind of places where she often ends up with a grain of lucidity to keep her half upright, while all the rest of her cognition makes her look like a psychotic out of an asylum. and even though you're practically always the one driving her back to her place, it doesn't exclude the fact that you need this sometimes.

despite your complaints of not wanting to go with her – for various reasons that you listed prior, but also because of your upcoming exams that are sucking the energy directly out of you – you still kind of look forward to the evening, if you're being honest. it gives you the opportunity to sit back and suspend the course of time for an evening, as ephemeral as it is.

the car stops at a red light as you think back to shoko's words, back in her room.

"yuki still didn't tell you about her special guest ?" you mindlessly ask as you fix your makeup by looking in the mirror of the sunshade, curling your eyelashes with the edge of your index to fix them.

"nope, i might have an idea though.." she pauses, you don't say anything as you wait for her to continue, "you know that guy she hangs out with sometimes? she's not like always with him but i don't think she'd invite anyone else, knowing her.."

"what guy?" you frown, you close the sunshade to look at her.

"uhh, black hair, pale skin, really quiet too. one of those snobs who behaves like termites by staying in their hole, you know. i don't even think i've ever talked to him, or seen him talk for that matter." she squints her eyes to reminisce old memories but the sudden shift of color on the traffic lights makes her focus back on the road.

"like what? a sorta depressed emo boy or something?" you scoff.

she laughs, out of mockery for your credulity it seems, "pretty close. but he's really.. the nerdy type y'know? the type to sit there and not say a word unless spoken to about some stupid nerdy shit, i guess."

"as long as he doesn't talk about fuckin' uni or something like that tonight, i'm good." you sigh at the thought as you close your eyes, clearly ignoring the silent warnings in her eyes.

"oh girl, you're such a fucking minx."

you ignore her offense when you continue your interview, "why would she invite him though? i mean why would he even come?"

"why did you?"

you keep silent.

"exactly," she states, "now keep your curiosity to yourself, you're about to find out."

after a few bends leading to the far end of town, you then remark the students crowding the lawn, stepping everywhere as some of them walk to the entry of the house.

no wonder you had to pay entries to get to some crackhead student party – you understood when you saw the size of the house and how many people there was. you silently hoped there was no one around as they would probably spend one hell of a night.

"not too far, i don't wanna have to carry you fifty meters tonight." you warn as shoko tries to find a good parking spot.

she sends you a hard glare and mumbles something inaudible that almost sounds like an insult. she seems to comply anyways as she parks not to far from the entry.

you were met with fresh air as you stepped outside the car, the extremities of your skin growing cold as well as your bare legs barely warming up with the strides you were taking. it was only eight in the afternoon and yet, you already saw wobbly people trying to walk their way out of the house. the two of you approach the path leading to the house, hearing the music as it gradually intensifies.

"there," shoko throws the car keys to you as you catch them hardly in your hands, "in case i lose them during the evening, you're in charge." you don't say anything, you'll have to drive back home anyways.

the calm atmosphere of an april evening was replaced without much transition as you walked past the open doors. the lights of the traffic lights now seemed far less stimulating in comparison to the sight in front of you. and paradoxically, your headache had disappeared, making you guess it was indeed, shoko's driving.

shoko turned around and took your hand to lead you through the numerous ponds of people hovering the place, talking, singing, dancing or even making out grossly. your steps grew heavier – whether from the combined heat of everyone weighing down on you or the vibrations of the boosted bass – it felt as if you were clearly reaching the pit of hell, both physically and symbolically.

and you could feel that with every steps forward, requiring the unsolicited touch of people brushing past you. the odors coming on play for less than a few seconds to merge with your own scent, just to disappear as soon as it entered past your nostrils. the lights changing from blue to purple to pink or even red, reflecting on the few skin shoko was showing with her slip dress as she was leading the way.

to say you were getting overstimulated was understandable. it was like getting thrown into a pit with only hungry lions to face; and with that dramatic metaphor you noted that the first lion you'd have to fight tonight, was the woman in front of you.

once you both reached what seemed to be the main saloon – though it was hard to decipher with the ton of people and the lack of furniture, beside some occupied couches. you didn't even know who was hosting the party to be fair, it seemed to change every other week like some sort of competition of who's gonna have the privilege to clean the big mess next morning – although you'd guess they probably have someone to do just that.

you were so focused on the environment you didn't even see the golden shadow passing by when a pair of fingers snapped you out of your illusion.

"you look like it's your first time at the zoo."

by the tone and voice you wouldn't even need to turn around. yuki looks at you with crossed arms in a sleeveless black turtleneck and flare jeans with a hint of a smile – out of friendliness or amusement, you didn't know.

"definitely feels like it," you smile back as you reach out to embrace her, which she welcomes.

"i see, shoko brought you here just to be her cab home then hm?" she tilts her head ignoring the way shoko snapped her head in her direction.

"hey don't say that! i wanted her company t–"

she gets interrupted by a loud noise, not seemingly coming from the music but by someone who just seemed to crash down on a wooden coffee table – one of the furniture you had such a hard time to see apparently because some people decided to stand on it. both girls in front of you roll their eyes almost in sync.

"well, looks like the alcohol's kicking in. you're coming with me?" yuki addresses to shoko and you.

"yeah i need to get something, i don't like how aware i am right now." shoko shakes her head in disapproval of the events.

the three of you approach the kitchen, where all the drinks stand upright and ready to use like weapons of war laid out on a table.

you don't venture into drink design, preferring to leave it to shoko or yuki, who apparently know best what they're doing since they're arguing over whether pineapple or cranberry would be more suitable to mix with vodka. once the ingredients are mixed, you all take a sip to mark the start of your evening.

"ew what the–" your body shudder lightly from disgust as you lower your hand over the counter, "tastes like piss seriously.." you whine and look at the wrongdoer.

"told you pineapple was a bad choice." yuki restates, but she's ignored by shoko, who takes the cup from your hand and pours the contents into her own cup.

"fuckin' alcoholic.." you breathe out in amusement.

"i paid for these, might as well make it worth my while." shoko rejoins and it makes you think..

"hey yuki, talking about entries, where's your guest?"

she takes another sip before answering through the music as she leans over, "he told me he wanted to use the bathroom, he went upstairs i think but.." she looks around, ".. i don't see him around, maybe he's stuck in there or something." she shrugs as if it were the most banal piece of information.

you naturally frown at the answer and at her lack of interest as to where her friend might be, so does shoko as she flicks yuki's forehead – earning an annoyed grunt from her victim.

"you can talk about me, you don't even care about your friend."

"he's a dude girl, if he's staying up there there's a reason. i'm sure he's fine," she shrugs once again with round eyes devoid of any remorse.

as they continue to argue mindlessly you sneak your hand on the counter, gliding it across the surface to grab discreetly yuki's cup, probably much tastier with cranberry, and retrieve it back to walk away and leave them to their incessant vindictive promises.

you're sure when you come back they'll still be on their feet – at least you'd like to put this much faith in them – as you rush through agglutinated people to get past the stairs. you don't really know why you're going, maybe you could say he picked your interest ; the thought of a guy like him in the middle of the evening just reminds you of a lamb around a horde of wolves.

you take a couple more sips from your cup and climb the stairs, squeezing past a heated couple making out in the middle of it. you follow down the corridor to find a multitude of doors, and one at the end of it that would be the perfect prototype of the bathroom at the end of a corridor. once you reach it you lean in to rest your ear against the door, trying to gauge potential noises, but nothing.

you smooth your denim skirt down and readjust your purse on your shoulder. you knock once, then twice – over the music you're practically not able to hear your own knocking – until your press your fingers down on the locker slowly, peeking through the door but you're only welcomed with pitch black.

maybe he just got lost among people, or maybe he was one of the ones you saw vomiting their guts out outside – which is less probable, but not impossible. you don't really feel like acting like a detective and exploring every nook and cranny, for fear of also finding yourself in front of people fucking in one of the rooms, so you prefer to turn back on your heels, giving up on the mission you thought would spark up your evening a little bit.

but it doesn't really go as planned actually. as you walk back towards the stairs, you notice a door open ajar, as if to let in a trickle of air, so you don't pay it much attention, but it's only when you start to look away that you see the previously motionless shadow, move.

it's quite honest to think that it's the first effects of the alcohol that are starting to take effect, a blurry vision in addition to poor lighting – results are not promising. you pause in your steps once more, tightening your fingers around your cup as you tilt your head so that you can look through the doorway without acting too much like a voyeur.

that's when you see him. rather tall figure standing up with the major help of big boots, black trousers with a black shirt – or maybe the colors are tainted by the darkness of the room, barely lit up by an amber light. and you do notice the signature buns with a few strands falling on his forehead.

his movements are so ever delicate you're having a hard time to decipher if the stability of your vision is playing tricks on you, or if it's really the slowness of his movements. one of his hands reaches over the shelf, he grabs a book and opens it. so careless.

"didn't know you were also a creep." you open the door without warning, with your cup in a hand and it makes you think that you probably look like some drunken mess barging in a room.

he drops the book on the ground.

"fuck!" his panicked eyes dart to you, pretty purplish eyes, "i'm sorry— shit. i didn't mean to pry." he picks up the book from the ground, bending his knees to grab it softly.

"if anything, i was the one prying." you comment, entering the room. and.. oh? what a sight you're welcomed with. it's a crime to not have seen this man on campus before – or maybe that's his crime to decide to stay inside his room with such a pretty face. his eyebrows are still brought near the center of his forehead, a faint look of worry that doesn't seem to disperse as the seconds pass.

it's also shoko's crime not to have mentioned the few silver jewels adorning his lips and eyebrows, or the charcoal mark layered upon his nose and spread horizontally along the length, covering both cheeks. and maybe there's another crime to add to your list when his tired eyes look away from you, trying to find some sort of distraction, anywhere but on you.

"i wasn't doing anything, i swear." his voice is coated with the sweetest tones though it's deeper than you'd expected – such a contrast with his face.

"careful, there's no better way to appear guilty than with this sentence." and you swear you can see a light frown on his face. you take a couple more steps towards him, he stands still, the book still in his hand as it's closed and tightly wrapped around his fingers.

you reach for the book lazily, and you take good care to not try any brusque movements. it's like you're walking on thin ice and you just start to realize how quieter it got in the room, with the buzzing of music barely heard and a few people chanting way too far.

he doesn't even try to fight it, the book slips past his fingers easily as you grab it, "The Picture Of Dorian Gray". classic. he looks down at you silently, a bit too long as if he's realized something.

"are you planning to come down?"

he shoves his hands in his pockets, shifting part of his weight on one foot in a slightly awkward manner, "i don't really feel like it."

"why is that?" you put the book right in the empty space, where you guess it previously was, squished between the other books.

"i don't really enjoy.. this." he nods to the door.

"what do you enjoy then?"

he runs his tongue over his piercing, wetting his lips and smothering the silver ring with it in the process as he ponders, then locks eyes with you finally.

"not parties at least."

"mhm, i would've guessed."

the room was strangely not that big compared to the house, a very sober room that must have been for guests, at least no personal decorations were visible. you approached the window to watch the racket outside and you found yourself glad to be upstairs at the sight.

"yuki was getting worried though." you know it's not true, but you're trying your best, you really are.

he turns around to face you, still not moving an inch from his initial position though, "oh so you're one of yuki's friend? the one she said would come?"

"it depends on whether she talked about a little pain in the ass or a cheeky cynic."

"she used the term.. « bothersome minx », if i recall."

you chuckle softly and put your cup down on the windowsill, gliding it on the side as you turn to look at him. he eyes you up and down, tapping his fingers along his thighs and you're not sure if you are in good shape due to the previous consumption or if he's just being the analytical man he's known to be.

"what's your name?"

"choso."

"choso.." you introduce yourself as well, he repeats your name just the same, "wanna sneak out?"

"what do you mean? like right now?"

"yeah, why not? i mean you can stay in that room as long as you want but i doubt you'll have much fun." he turns his head to glance at the door lazily, gauging the proposal.

"what are we gonna do?"

"i don't know, we'll see." you shrug with a smile and you're not sure if playing the russian roulette with him is gonna get you anywhere but you're too interested to play it safe.

"hm, i want to be back for yuki though, she's gonna need a ride home."

"you will." you say simply, but choso raises his eyebrows, waiting for more based arguments rather than a simple affirmation. so you continue,

"we can just take the car, drive for a couple of minutes and you'll be back here before you even notice."

there's a few seconds of silence where you both look at each other, expecting an answer. he sighs, lowering his head and you think he's about to decline your invitation but..

"alright, but just for some time."

you can't help but grin widely, you eagerly dig in your purse for the car keys shoko gave you and take quick steps towards the exit. as you wait for him on the doorstep you see him take a few strides, but towards the windowsill where you previously were standing. he grabs the drink you left dismissively, his jacket on the bed, and throws your empty cup in the bin just in the corner of the room as he walks back towards you.

he smiles gently at you and closes the door behind the two of you.

you practically had to fight your way through the crowd waiting for you downstairs. you thought the hardest part would be getting through to the front door, but once outside you found yourself in a quandary as you had to tiptoe to avoid stepping on any garbage, sticky liquids or dead drunks on the lawn.

choso asked you if you were able to take the wheel, you told him yes, of course – you'd only had one drink that had barely shaken you. he insisted on driving anyway.

the place where you had him taken was one of the only ones not too far away that was still open at this hour; and especially one that didn't look like a crowded bar.

a small café-restaurant run by a woman who was far too old to still be on her feet serving until late at night – but she always did it with too much care that you always resigned yourself to going there, even if the prices were higher.

the car ride had been remotely silent, with only a few instructions as to the routes to take and choso asking you if you wanted to put the heat on.

you took your seats on the colorful banquettes, waiting for the woman to come and take your order. the contrast was quite ironic, seeing you and choso dressed for some fancy evening in a place that was very reminiscent of that kind of little retro restaurant in the 50s, with the famous jukebox playing ballads from Elvis Presley, and the endless greasy hot dogs displayed on the counter.

"didn't think you'd follow a stranger blindly,"

he rests his forearms on the table and bring his eyes back on you as they were occupied scanning the place, "you're no real stranger, you're yuki's friend after all."

"oh i'm sure you were the kinda kid to enter some random white van." you say, more to yourself though as you look at the menu briefly. he doesn't say anything in return, and you don't look up either to see if he's looking at you or not.

"tell me choso," his name is like the ring of a bell, his eyes widen just a little, "how come i've never seen you around? you're on campus right?"

"mhm, i guess," he opens his mouth as if to start a sentence but he soon renounces by closing it immediately, he reaches for his nape to massage it, "i guess i don't really hang out around campus."

"majoring in?"

"computer science."

you would have bet your entire fucking fortune on it. you let a smile slip through.

"um, you're friends with gojo satoru too, right?"

the question definitely surprises you, everyone knows who's satoru, and that's not to his advantage as he's more or so known for being one hell of a jerk. you nod and he takes a deep breath, one that speaks volumes.

"i know what he says about me, you know. i just don't want you to think i'm like that." he admits and the sight almost makes you frown, you don't know if it's pity or empathy but you shake the feeling away.

"what do you think he says about you?"

he pauses for a few seconds, he's quick to bring his hands around his ear piercing, fidgeting with them as he relaxes back against the banquette, he finally crosses his arms over his chest.

"they say things that aren't necessarily wrong but aren't totally true either."

when he says they, he's probably referring to shoko, or maybe suguru if you think about it, though he doesn't seem to care about people's business that much.

you'll blame choso's inability to communicate properly for his ambiguous answers and not because he's trying to pull a series of enigma right now.

"mhm, and don't you think i have a mind of my own?"

his eyes almost pop out of their sockets and he once again leans against the table, clearly not settled on how to sit still, "no–no i didn't mean to say that ! i'm sure you do," he says softly, yet still very much alarmed.

you almost regret your choice of words but he's so goddamn sweet it would be a shame not to tease him a little.

"i don't know i just, don't want you to think badly of me." his fingers fidgets with the salt and pepper shaker in front him.

you know you're in no position to talk, you even feel embarrassed if you're being honest, as you were not just about an hour ago making fun of him in the car with shoko – that, he doesn't know.

the old woman comes back to take both your orders and it's as if the bubble you were both in had just burst, bringing you back to the café as the music gradually came back to your senses. choso orders a strawberry milkshake and you take a blueberry.

the way he talks is so sweet, it makes you physically wince, and let's not talk about the way he looks at the old woman like she was cotton candy to the eye. you think it's all an act he's about to drop when she leaves but, even when she returns behind the counter he returns his eyes on you with the same look ; heavy lids – that you don't know if they are the consequence of a long day or if they're always like that – with shades or purple circling them.

"you'll know that the only time I take satoru's opinion into account is when I have to make a choice for lunch. you're okay." you assure.

he nods slowly and you see his face soften at your reassuring words.

"i don't know why you hang out with them." he says and it's so faint you're not even sure if he mumbled to himself or if he actually talked to you.

you tilt your head on the side with a frown, "what do you mean?"

he takes some time to answer, to gather his words or because he's hesitant you don't really know.

"you were always so nice to me," but you're still puzzled so he continues, "back in high school, you weren't hanging out with this kind of people, y'know."

you don't even pay attention to the way he's not so subtly trying to bring your friends down, you readjust yourself in your seat, visibly confused.

"i don't.. i mean, we were in the same class?"

choso shrugs, not really phased to see you don't remember him at all, "you had a lot of friends. plus, i didn't have these two." he points his finger up to show his hair attached in two buns atop of his head as if it could be the sole reason of your memory lapse. silly.

"i like this look on you. you look nice with them." you say as you look at the hairstyle thoroughly. the praise seemed to have gotten to him because you can see a small smile on his lips as he looks around impatiently for the drinks to arrive – or maybe he just needed to lay his eyes somewhere else than on you.

the drinks arrive shortly after, not surprising due to the lack of customers as it's practically just the two of you there. you don't really say anything much, comfortable in the silence you're both in as you grab your order to taste them. you don't really want to continue the conversation about your friends right now, and choso seems to have dropped the idea of it too.

choso watches you as you lean in to wrap the straw around your lips, elbows on the table to support your body on top. he also watches the way the milkshake climbs up the straw to pour into your mouth, away from prying eyes.

"you want some?"

his blurred eyes meet yours.

"huh?"

you smirk, only because you're enjoying the look on his face and you want it to worsen. you straighten up properly, away from that damn straw and focus on choso, who grows a little embarrassed, somehow – you see it, he backs down a little just at the sight.

"i know what you want," you say, almost above a whisper, stirring the straw with painful slowness.

"you just gotta ask."

choso doesn't say anything. he doesn't really know what to say actually as he flicks his eyes between your eyes and your lips. he's panicked, that's one thing anyone could notice if only they had their attention on him.

"you want a taste, right?" you say with such a languid voice he has to look around to see if you're putting on a show for anyone around, in vain of any spectators. choso raises his eyebrows, devoid of any answers.

"my drink, you idiot."

such a fool, his pouding heart slows back down quietly into his chest and it shows by the prior rapid breaths that are replaced by long and painful sighs. and what a disguised curse to be around you. he doesn't even seem to notice the degrading name he got assigned, you're not even sure he's got to hear the short sentence correctly.

"um.. yeah, sure."

you glide the drink forward on the table until it reaches his fingers which firmly wrap around the glass – and if you were from the police you'd suspect it's to hide his shaking fingers. he puts his own lips where yours once were and begins to sip through the straw. he doesn't have to look up to see you watching intently, he can feel it.

"there you go, how is it?"

"s'good." he nods.

the aroma melts on his tongue, almost sugarcoating the strawberry he previously ingested and the sour taste of a little humiliation.

"i wonder what's going on in that little head of yours. you're so analytical with everything."

"you make me feel like I have to be."

a head tilt from you is all he needs to know he has to develop his thoughts.

"be aware of my surroundings."

your answer gets stuck in the back of your throat when you hear the buzzing of your phone in your purse, you dig it out : a call from shoko.

you excuse yourself and choso simply nods, you bring the phone to your ears and you soon regret the movement as dissonant noises come to deafen your drums – urging you to pull your phone away from your ear.

"h-hey!! where.." the sentence is cut by another voice, and maybe some screams, you don't really know. you squint your eyes as you try to decode the semblance of sentences thrown at you, you call shoko but she doesn't seem to be on the line although the call indicates two minutes past.

choso continues to sip on his milkshake and he looks just as confused as you are.

"where r'you–" you don't need to ask her if she's drunk or not, you can hear it through the slurring of her words. you don't answer her question though, you know it will cause more damage than anything to say you'd preferred to leave the party to go sip on some milkshake with a man you're supposed to despise more than anything.

after five minutes of negotiation, you finally find out what shoko wanted - simple curiosity as to where you were, but also a call for help with the disappearance of choso, who was supposedly trapped in the toilet, according to yuki. you promptly hang up and finish your milkshake in a one go.

"she's in trouble?" choso gauges your reaction and imitates you, putting away his own things as he puts his jacket on.

"she's about to be if we don't come pick her up now." you place you purse back on your shoulder as you draw enough of cash to cover the bill and tip, "c'mon, let's go."

choso wasn't so wrong in the end, since you both arrived in time to prevent a tragedy from happening, one more on the list that shoko may not remember - despite the scale of it. you and choso agreed to take back your possessions – in this case yuki and shoko, who seemed to be standing on their own two feet only by some celestial force.

no need to to depict the end of the night, it was always the same when you went out with shoko. though something – or rather someone – during evening had told you it wasn't going to be the same ; that your tranquility was long gone, that you had now committed, whether you'd like it or not apparently, to be a fucking babysitter.

and he was fast with it, he didn't wait a week or so, he didn't even try to make it natural. the day after the party, choso went straight to talk to you, and the boy didn't even care if you were with your group of friends, the same that vehemently talked shit behind his back.

he didn't even try to wipe that smile off of his face, nor to calm the rosy tint on his cheeks that left little room for other interpretations. he didn't even try to cover for you when he gave you change for the milkshake you'd paid for – and God he didn't seem to understand that if you'd paid him it didn't mean you particularly wanted to give him the impression he owed you anything in return.

he also didn't notice that you didn't appreciate his refund, that you would have preferred to send him off, but that under the pressure from satoru and shoko, who were only viciously agreeable to him, you had to accept his exchange with a big smile.

you really didn't know whether his behavior was of the order of undisputed innocence or whether it was a means of publicly humiliating you.

in any case, the incident didn't go away, not with satoru and shoko around the corner, who were both just explaining the situation to suguru in the middle of lunch in the refectory.

"she left yuki and i alone with a bunch of freaks," shoko declares through the clattering sounds of the cantine while pointing her fork on you as she explains the evening, once again.

"you didn't seem to mind when i pulled you away from one that you were trying to dissect open with a knife." you insist, once again.

you stir the fuming food and distribute it homogeneously over your plate to let it cool down, ignoring shoko's words as she continues the story.

"it's kinda funny that you spent the evening with a guy who's a carbon copy of the type you say you hate." suguru intervenes and you sigh at the snarky remark. satoru keeps chewing on his food carelessly, clearly enjoying the roast you're subject to.

you shake your head at the statement, "spending an evening with someone and actually enjoying the time spent is different."

"mhm, clearly if i hadn't called you you'd still be making out with him right now.." shoko mocks and you swear you can see satoru's lips twitch in amusement.

"we just talked !" you half whisper, half scream, letting your food drop into your plate, causing your friends to shush you.

"c'mon just say you like him, we'll still be friends y'know?" you look deadpan at satoru, a look that doesn't require any words.

"i mean everyone knew he had a crush on you in high school, it wouldn't be surprising if it was still the case." suguru shrugs, you don't know if if he's being honest this time or if it's another joke. you choose to believe the latter.

you shake your head and look around the cantine to ease your mind from your shit friends, which doesn't seem to be the thing to do as satoru adds another weight to your already heavy shoulders.

"what? looking for your new pet? homeboy is probably hiddin' in his room right now. i mean, when doesn't he?"

you breathe out tensely, butchering your food with your cutlery as you clearly picture some detailed ways you'd like to treat the man in front of you.

"fucking assholes.."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

after what happened during the last couple of days you really tried taking measures. good measures. and it was kind of ironic how choso should've been the type to try and dodge any interaction with your friends, but now you were the one trying to sneak past him.

he was nice. you'll give him that.

but he was stupid. so fucking careless. and really naive because he surely did think an evening sipping on milkshake meant something along the lines of "will you marry me?"

anytime he spotted you in between classes he just had to walk in your direction. whether it was just small talk or not, he talked to you every. single. time.

but he was so nice. you couldn't just shove it in his face? could you? despite shoko's encouragement to drop him there's something that just.. didn't feel right. and may God forgive you, but you know this is certainly not the advent of your good morals.

though all of that clingy attitude really pissed you off, you did find yourself thinking about that evening and how Elvis Presley was so annoyingly being repeated in the background. how his eyes, despite their darkness and exhausted features, never ceased to display the most authentically pure emotions you've ever seen.

"i don't know i just, don't want you to think badly of me."

you sigh, heavily. some conflicted parts of you wanted to know more, an evening wasn't enough to just send him off right away, right? who was he? who does he claim to be? and the fact that you don't remember him, no, you can't remember him doesn't help either to your curiosity. because you did search through your yearbooks and to see his face didn't help you bring back lost memories.

shit maybe you just need someone to ring some senses to you but you also don't want shoko nor satoru to do it, as much as you hate to think about it they'll taint your vision more than they'll clear it out. in some ways choso was right ; their judgment might have their part to play in the way you think. in some ways only.

or maybe you're trying to blame your friends for your shitty behavior which only makes you feel ten times worse. you let out a grunt as you get up from your chair, going to the library to study with a clouded mind wasn't a good idea and even more at the end of the day.

failing to have a cigarette you can borrow from shoko right now, you choose to take a walk around campus. it's not the best sight but the air is far more fresh outside.

oh and how ironic was it when your feet led you upstairs to the dorms. it's not like you even planned your itinerary, it was like second nature to you, plus the air definitively felt a lot more breathable.

out of all the rumors you've heard, you knew at least one was true : choso was an orphan ; he stayed in the dorms right above the college structure.

and how absurd that was when you feet planted right outside his doorway – you can say thank you to the floor tenant files that didn't seem to care about the resident's personal information.

the thing missing though is your speech. you didn't have anything in mind. fuck what are you thinking? you're not even sure you'd want to see him at all, despite your evident location. before you could produce another stupid thought your fist met the door to knock twice.

it was about six seconds of wait that felt like half a minute as you just stood there outside. the door opened slightly ajar, and it reminded you of the first time – well not counting high school – that you saw him.

long strands of black hair dangled in front of the doorway before he stepped closer to fill the gap with his width. of course his eyes widened. they always do when they meet yours.

"oh, hey," he quickly looked over his shoulder, behind him and lowered his eyes to take a look at himself.

it was an agreeable sight, you will not deny. his hair were hanging loose at shoulder length, wearing only an oversized white t-shirt (was it oversized or just his actual stature ?) and gray sweatpants. you almost felt like diverting your eyes away as if you were prying on something you shouldn't see.

"hey."

silence.

"are you okay?" he stays still, swiping his tongue inside his lower lip while playing with his ring piercing you presume ; a habit of his you've noticed. you don’t really know if he's asking to be polite or if you genuinely look like you need help.

"mhm," you nod, "can i come in?"

"uhh, yeah" he takes another look behind him and you're starting to think maybe you came at the wrong time. "yeah, of course." he opens the door wider and steps aside, you enter and to your relief nothing crazy's going on.

the room is neatly organized to your surprise, not that you were imagining a slum, but you were expecting something more akin to the prototype of the homebody student. you avoid looking too much everywhere, you didn't come for that anyway.

choso retreats to his desk where he leans against it, his hands on the length of the edge to support his body.

"looks serious eh?" he escapes a small laugh, almost a scoff actually as he scratches his forearm and you suddenly want to leave the room because of how miserable you feel.

"we have to stop this.. thing here." you point to him then yourself.

you almost feel bad for him. almost, because of the way his hand previously on his other arm stops in the previous scratching motion, because of the way he only stares at you for a few solid seconds.

"what do you mean?"

"you know what i mean," you sigh "i don't even know why you suddenly want to talk to me anyway," you shake your head and look down. it's not even something you're blaming him for, you're really wondering why he'd want to talk to someone who plays on both sides with him.

"it's not.. that sudden. i've always wanted to talk to you." he tells you softly, "have i done something wrong?"

he's too nice with you it makes you audibly grunt.

"do you have a crush on me or something?"

silence again. a longer one this time. you didn't really mean to blurt it out like that, you'd envisioned something a little more subtle but frustration got the best of you.

his body shifts, his hands move closer to his body and he crosses his arms over his chest, tapping his biceps with his finger repeatedly. he stays silent.

"it's a yes or no question choso."

he pinches the bridge of his nose just where his mark is and breathes out a small "fuck".

"alright. it's ok if you don't wanna use your words, you certainly don't fail showing it to the whole fucking world anyway."

he takes a step forward rapidly, a single step but big enough to be closer to you nonetheless.

"i'm sorry, shit, i didn't know it would make you so upset. i'm sorry." he apologies. and you don't know if he realizes how upset he looks in the situation, he runs a hand through his hair in distress and you can see how agitated he is.

his face is right above yours, you don't really have to do anything but to look up to meet his panicked eyes. and it's a complete contrast how your eyebrows almost hurt from the frown while his face is contorted in worry.

and you'll blame your beating heart on your irritation and building up anger and definitely not because of his sole proximity. you try to commit to that thought at least.

"you're insufferable you know that?" you hug yourself as you readjust the strap of your purse on your shoulder.

he runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek and looks away for a flitting second before bringing his eyes back on you, or your lips ; he's very indecisive poor boy doesn't know where to look when he has you this close to him.

"i.. i didn't know know how to tell you i'm sorry i just–"

"oh shut up,"

you practically throw yourself on him as it's the only way he'll eventually stop apologizing, one of your hands quickly wrap around his neck, to the base of his nape pulling him closer as your lips crash onto his. choso stumbles back at the contact and his hands reach instinctively on your waist for support, his body hits the desk where he stood prior and he escapes the faintest gasp at the harsh contact.

you wouldn't even have dreamed of doing this – fuck if shoko would come to know about this she'd probably laugh at you. but he's so gentle in his every moves, his every words, so naive about your motives it would be a damn shame if he knew what kind of crap person you really are. if the two of you really had to stop talking like you stated, your only wish would be to at least do this before.

choso's fingers grip more tightly on your waist, his thumb brushing against the fabric of your shirt practically playing with the hem of it. he pulls you closer and parts his lips to kiss you back avidly while your nails dig deeper around his nape at the feeling, before sliding them back along his jaw to orient his head at a better angle. you feel him exhale through his nose as you slow down your pace, slowly detaching your lips from his.

"y'taste good." he whispers against your lips, his forehead is practically touching yours and it's only now that you realize how much his features have changed within seconds. his eyes are blazed, breathless and fingers shaky around your waist. you'll blame the taste of your lips of the cherry gloss you're wearing – and he's wearing too now that his lips are shiny from it.

you're no better though, you swallow as you catch your breath, your heart is pounding in your chest so much you also hear it through the buzzing of your ears, coating the sounds around you.

"yeah? what is it, never kissed before?" you smile, you'll never get tired of teasing him, not when he always gives you the same look.

"not like that," he pants and smile back at you, a little smile that soon turns into a frown, "i.. shit, i wanna make you feel good. can i?" his voice is so low it makes your head spin.

"then do it," you kiss him once slowly and you feel him shudder at the new sensation, "make me feel good." you kiss him twice, even slower this time.

no need to say it twice for choso, if it's not you latching on him right now he definitely doesn't feel like backing down, he takes your answer for words and his hands find your cheeks instantly, cupping them as he puts a lot more pressure, making you step back. your hands lower down on his shoulders and your purse slip down your arm until it reaches the ground harshly ; not your priority number one right now.

he presses his body even closer to you and you don't need an explanatory drawing of what's happening down his pants as you feel his hard on pressed against you. you put your thigh forward, adding your own pressure against him and the moan that escapes his lips is enough to make your skin shiver and your panties tighter. much tighter.

still glued to each other, he guides you to his bed, just behind and it takes a couple steps back for your calves to hit the furniture, your body drops down the bed as you look up at him and you think he's about to slouch his own body on you, but he kneels down right before you instead.

you put your hands on the bed behind you to push yourself farther against the wall but to your – second – surprise he puts his hands flat on your knees.

"i need you right here," he soothes as he taps your knee lightly, making you stop in your movements. you don't know if he's about to do what you think he's about to do but your questions get quickly answered.

"can i?" he asks as he flicks his eyes onto your skirt, asking permission to touch it you guess. you nod eagerly and he leans back slightly to take your mary janes off instead, right foot, then to the left foot so ever carefully and putting them aside on the floor. you watch him and notice how steady and focused he looks despite his torso heaving up and down rapidly, you see it.

he straighten up on his knees and the sight has you gulping down, you're on his bed, he's on the ground just right in front of you, his eyes scan your face thoroughly you almost feel overwhelmed by it. your skirt gets pulled down easily, oh but so slowly, you prop yourself up on your elbows to make it easier for him.

"so pretty." he breathes out, he discards the piece of clothing on the floor and places both of his hands on your hips to bring your body closer to him as he easily glides you.

he leans in and his face is only inches away from your crotch, he glances at you before returning back on your clothed cunt. his thumb circles the hem of your panties as if he's admiring the sewing method and your breath hitches when his thumb drops a little lower, down where you clit hides beneath the fabrics.

"don't have all day, choso" you gulped, your hands bawl into tight fists in apprehension.

"okay–okay." he coos and immediately grant your wish ; he pulls your panties down and you're now bottom naked on his bed. it gives you a real reason to be embarrassed for sure because you didn't really "plan" on being that drenched from a single quick make out session. and the more he stares at your exposed cunt the more you grow impatient.

"choso.." you try to warn him but it comes out as a whine instead. he shifts as he gets closer to the edge of the bed, he wraps his hands under your legs to grab onto your thighs firmly.

"gonna make you feel good ok?"

"jus' do it–" you choke on your own words when you feel his tongue on you. a single lap and you're already panting in the room like a mad woman, "ffuck." you whine and your hand reaches immediately down to get a hold of something – his hair in this case which is being in his vision doesn't stop him nonetheless to complete his mission – as it's the only way you'd call it due to how devoted he looks between your legs.

he gives you a few more laps, down from your entrance to the very top on your clit, and he's diverse in his moves you'll give him that – he goes either way from the right side, then the left side, until he decides to flick his tongue against your pussy from side to side this time. you'd honestly thought the man would go down on you as his first time, his first experiment but it looks like you're the one experimenting for the first time his tongue skills – that, you don't miss to point out.

"shit- where the fuck did you learn to do that?" you pant, you push his hair back the best you can though it still falls atop of your pussy, giving you extra tingles on the way.

the sounds are purely gross, the room is nothing but a space for filth, hearing liquids collides whether it'd be his saliva on you or your slick on him. doesn't help from your restrained moans nor from his own whimpers that resonate lowly against your skin – it's almost as if he's being louder than you are.

he props your legs up onto his own shoulders when he leans down further into your pussy, getting better access while your thighs are in the air, tensing and quivering at each touch.

you start to seriously lose it when you feel pressure on your clit, getting even more stimulated your head starts to feel dizzy ; his thumb brushes against your folds to gather your juices before going up to your clit while his tongue starts to push down your entrance.

he mumbles something but you can't understand either from the pounding in your ears or because he factually has his mouth buried in your cunt.

"you feel so– fuck!" you almost cry out when he accelerates the pace on your clit "so fuckin' good shit," and before you get hold of the situation your muscles contract, your thighs wraps even tighter around choso and you're not really in the mindset to care if you're hurting him right now when you're nothing more than a trembling mess under him.

when you release the grip you have around his head with your legs, he slowly backs down and wipes under his chin with the back of his hand, breathing heavily as if he had just come flooding back from the water after a long dive. the sight has your brain rebooting from the start, simply short circuited.

"t'was okay?"

you almost feel indignation for his own self when you look at him in disbelief, "okay? thought i was losing my mind over there," you slowly sit up as you look at him with heavy lids. you probably look like you got run over.

"want me to get something to–"

he stops once he sees you getting your top over your shoulders, taking it off and throwing on the chair near his desk. you get closer to the edge of the bed, still sit up on it as you cage him between your legs since he's still kneeling on the ground.

"well.. i guess you have other plans..?" he murmurs under his breath, he doesn't even try to hide the fact he's staring, the man is practically glued to you like when kids stand too close to a tv.

"you're a perceptive one aren't you?" you leaned down to slip your fingers under his shirt, near his hips to take it off too, "unless you don't want to?" you whisper, stopping your movements to get his approval before starting anything but oh don't you dare take your hands off of him because he'll put them back on their original place.

"no–no, i do. i want you." his eyes meets yours and it's as if repentance was just knocking at your door and you don't know if you're willing to open the door because of how good he ate your pussy or because you really feel like you should do it.

"good."

you knew choso was introverted, a little shy even, the kind of men to be a little prudish even, the ones who'd rather stay indoors, the ones who's rather not get touched by anybody, even less when those places are under their clothes. you thought he was that kind of man when you'd first met him.

you got fooled. once when he mastered the technique of his tongue on you a few minutes ago that got your jaw dislocating in pleasure. but twice now that his shirt is past his torso, up to get through his head and you see yet another pair of silver jewelry. one on each of his nipples.

and your reaction is suited honestly, you just drop your arms and leave him struggling with the shirt on his own as his head is still tangled inside of it, you swear under your breath as you look at the two shiny buds. and maybe he did it as a distraction, getting two silvery eyes up his breast might be one hell of a surprise when you're trying to look at his whole torso ; but even in that case you wouldn't get why on earth you'd need to be distracted from his upper body, because what a fucking view.

once you see choso's head pop out of his t-shirt you're so turned on you're scared if you move you'll just leave the biggest pond of your slick on his covers ; you're feeling genuinely embarrassed to say the least.

"come here, get on your back." you tap on your left to show him the way on his own bed, he executes your demand without much more convincing. he lays down where his pillow rest, propping his head up a little as he still supports his body on his forearms, watching you.

which is not such a bad thing as it gets his whole upper body tensing up from the position, and you realize you got fooled thrice because of how defined his body is, muscles tracing his skin in the prettiest way.

you crawl closer to him and take his sweatpants off, throwing them along with the other remaining of clothes on the ground.

you straddle choso, only in his boxers now and he's always on the lookout for your next move, eyes traveling along every part of your body standing so close to him. you lean in to kiss him again, a simple kiss this time, not heated, nor passionate as you'd intended earlier, almost too intimate to your liking. you feel him relax under you, no, melt. he melts under your kiss, his back rests totally flat on his bed now and his hands travel along you jaw, touching you like porcelain if it were to break.

"it's only fair i return the favor, right?" you tell him as you lean near his ear, and if you chose to ignore the bulge in his underwear when you got him out off his pants you're certain you can't now. it's entirely poking through the fabrics to lean oh so perfectly against your entrance you have to fight back a moan just at the feeling. how embarrassing.

"fuck, please do." he moans, his hands get back on your hips slowly, pressing his fingers into your skin lightly. though you'd rather take some of your time, if you're in this might as well do it right.

you kiss your way down his body, from his lips, to his jaw, on his neck a few times — just because you love watching his adam's apple bobble up every time he gulps when you touch him — near his collarbones, on his torso and why not on the twins piercings he's got on it too.

at the contact of your tongue swirling around his nipples choso instantly throws his head back on his pillow, earning a deep breath from him along with a "fuckk" he couldn't bite back. at the same time your hips start to grind, slowly, cautiously, you wouldn't want to get off on his boxers now would you?

your hands reach down his boxers, under it to grab his dick but... maybe you got fooled fourth time. or maybe the saying is right, the quietest got the biggest and he's a living proof of the statement, you can attest. you break the contact on his sensitive buds and sit up correctly to look at it lay flat on his stomach, curved and strained in its own blood flow. you really have to close your mouth to not drool on it directly and you mumble something unintelligible.

his hands rest on your thighs, they try to guide you forward, they really do and you let them. you bring your hips forward, pussy gliding – as it's the only way it would be described, you're soaked – on his dick, just slipping through your wet folds, enough to mold him on the way forward, then all the way back when you return to your position. you let your hands fall on his abs, you're not even tired, you just need the support right now or else you're afraid you'll just collapse right onto him.

"God, you feel so good," you whine, grinding slowly along his cock and you honestly don't know how he's handling it down there 'cause it feels too fucking good for you.

"n-need you right now," he painfully gulps, he looks at the friction with a frown and he lowers his head back on the pillow, "shit..." he whimpers, such a wobbly voice yet he's not even inside of you thus far. you don't know who's winning the embarrassing contest but he might win over you if you keep giving him good pussy.

"so sweet. you're too fuckin' sweet y'know that?" you praise and choso's hands come directly to grab at your tits, cupping the roundness of them with both hands as he massages them slowly, pinching your nipple between his index and his thumb.

you're done with being patient actually as it is your cue to wrap your fingers around the head of his cock. you brush your thumb over his tip and his whole body jerks off from the touch, you slide your whole hand down the base of it as you pull yourself up on your knees.

you thought you'd reached the epitome of pleasure when he was between your legs just now, and you don't know what other seventh heaven you landed on when he entered you, but it was just as similar.

the head of his cock has just slipped through and you're already full of it, full of him. and you have no doubt when you look at choso that he's feeling it too. you both moan at the new feeling, a feeling you were too puerile to treat with such disdain when you looked at him, a feeling you'd never come to know if he didn't slightly hurt your ego with his kindness.

"holy shit, so fucking tight f'me.." he purrs through the whole process, his hands help you go down, steadily and slowly at your pace when more than half of his cock has sunk into you. your legs shake slightly when you've reached the end, you start to bounce up and down lazily, hearing every gushing sounds of both of your slick as they disperse through your organs.

he can't help it, you don't know if it's because you've teased him so much pior that he can't hold it in anymore, but the grip on your hips gets tighter, the bouncing up and down his cock gets messier, and even though your thighs start to feel numb you soon understand that choso has your back. his hips starts to buck back into you to meet your hips halfway, skin to skin as they collide rapidly.

"f–fuck, choso, you're gonna make m–"

"i know, i know." he soothes, you lean into him, chest to chest as you put your hands on his shoulders. and you can't help but be extremely grateful right now as you're practically laying down on him, he's fucking right into you with the help of his hands pressing down your hips as he moans in your ears softly.

"wanna make this pretty pussy mine– fuck. wanna make you mine." he whimpers and you can hear the way his throat tightens that he's close. you wouldn't wanna lie saying you're not – to be honest you've been wanting to come as soon as you hoped on his thighs.

you don't know if it's the heat of the moment, because you're taking his dick so fucking perfectly inside of you that the thought of being with him doesn't really repulse you that much, for it actually seems pleasant enough to imagine it.

"fuck–fuck-i'm gonna cum!"

and you sincerely hope nobody is in their dorms right now because you're sure the whole floor knows what their nerdy resident is doing to some resentful student on campus. he's so vocal you wouldn't have it any other way, specially when every each one of his moans reach your cunt before your ears.

you feel your legs tremble and your nails dig deeper into his skin when you reach your second orgasm, and not one for the weak ones as your pussy clenches so tightly you think you're sucking choso's dick whole with the suction. your hips get pulled up on spot when choso releases his own shot in between your bodies, his dick springing out from where it was caged. you still tremble on him when he breathes heavily, coming down to his high.

you both stay silent for a couple of seconds and reality hits you back.

"you're too good to me." he murmurs as he wipes some of the mascara under your eyes with his thumb, you head is still near the crook of his neck, you don't move.

oh only if he knew.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

"can you believe nerdy boy got laid?"

you turn to shoko almost too rapidly, "what?"

"i know, who would do that.."

you don't say anything. you don't really wanna say anything for now, but you know shoko isn't saying that just to make the conversation when she waits for an answer. a valid one.

©nabitsun !

thank you for reading :D

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

The Alchemy

AU where Harry is the star quarterback at his college and y/n is an English major.

Based very loosely off The Alchemy by Taylor Swift

CW: Smut

Word Count: 6,871

Leaving my family to go to University was a bittersweet decision. My heart tugged at the thought of being away from them, but my passion for mastering the art of English pulled me towards my dream. My family had always been my biggest supporters and I wanted to make them proud by becoming an English professor. This meant leaving behind my comfortable life in a small suburban town in Florida to study abroad at one of the most prestigious universities. The campus was nestled in the very heart of where literary greats had once roamed and created their masterpieces. It was as if the walls exuded inspiration and creativity, urging me to chase after my dreams with even more fervor. Though I missed my family dearly, I knew that this journey would lead me to become the best version of myself and honor their unwavering support and love.

It was a whirlwind of experiences as I made my way through the unfamiliar streets. The currency conversion was a constant challenge, with every transaction feeling like a game of guesswork. And then there was the driving - on the opposite side of the road no less - which required all of my concentration to avoid any mishaps. But perhaps most daunting of all was the non-stop partying at pubs, a culture shock for someone like me who had grown up in a small town in America.

Thankfully, I was able to find a flat that was within walking distance from the school, and even luckier to have another American girl as my roommate. Mia was a sweet, bubbly girl from the middle of nowhere Kansas, embracing every aspect of British culture including the pub scene and the charming local lads.

Living with Mia meant constantly having people over, and it seemed like every night brought new faces into our home. I didn't mind too much, mostly enjoying the lively atmosphere and meeting new people. However, there were definitely some moments that tested my patience, like when one of Mia's friends named Arthur ended up getting sick and leaving his mark in our kitchen. Despite these occasional hiccups, I was grateful for this experience abroad and all the unique encounters it brought my way.

Though Mia's social butterfly nature could be trying at times, I appreciated her warm companionship in this foreign place. It was on one such night, after we had cleaned up the remnants of Arthur's ill-fated escapades, that we found ourselves cozied up with mugs of tea and watching the rain patter against the windows. 

Mia was unusually pensive as she stared out into the drizzly Manchester night. "You know," she began softly, "sometimes I wonder if I'm chasing the wrong dreams. My parents wanted me to become a doctor or lawyer, something stereotypically successful, but I just wanted adventure. Now here I am, living it up in England, but it all feels...empty, like I'm still searching for meaning."

I nodded thoughtfully, sensing the vulnerability in her words. Though Mia put on a bubbly facade, there was more depth to her than met the eye. 

"I think the great thing about being here is that we have time to figure it all out," I offered gently. "We're writing our own stories, not just following someone else's script." 

Mia smiled, some of the spark returning to her eyes. "You're right. That's exactly why I love being here with you."

As the rain continued to drum against the windows, Mia and I sat in comfortable silence for a moment, each lost in our own thoughts. Finally, Mia turned to me with a curious expression.

"Do you ever have doubts about your dreams, too?" Mia asked, her voice tinged with vulnerability.

I considered her question for a moment before responding, "All the time. Sometimes I wonder if I'm on the right path or if I'm just going through the motions."

Mia nodded understandingly, her eyes reflecting the shimmer of uncertainty. "It's scary, isn't it? The idea that we might wake up one day and realize we've been chasing a dream all along."

I placed a comforting hand on Mia's shoulder. "It is scary, but it's also part of the journey. We're allowed to question and evolve along the way."

She smiled weakly, her gaze drifting back to the rain-splattered window. "I guess that's what makes life interesting, right? The uncertainty of it all."

Our conversation was interrupted by a sudden knock on the door. Mia got up to answer it, revealing a group of our friends who had decided to brave the rainy night for an impromptu gathering.

"Come in, come in!" Mia exclaimed cheerfully, ushering everyone inside. The room quickly filled with laughter and chatter as our friends settled in.

As I looked around the group, my eyes landed on a few familiar faces who have crossed paths with me several times before. Among them was Arthur, a friendly face that always brought a sense of comfort and familiarity. As everyone piled into the room, my gaze wandered to him - Harry Styles, the renowned quarterback of our school's football team. I couldn't help but feel a tinge of excitement at being in the presence of such a well-known athlete. When I first arrived from the United States, I had assumed the term "football" referred to what we call soccer back home. But as I soon discovered, American Football was just as beloved and popular in the UK.

Harry noticed me looking his way and met my gaze. There was an intensity in his green eyes that made me quickly avert my own, focusing instead on my friend Grace who was animatedly sharing a story next to me. 

I tried to tune into her words, but my thoughts kept drifting back to the handsome footballer across the room. By all accounts, Harry was cocky, brash, and a bit of a player. And yet, I couldn't deny there was something magnetic about him. He carried himself with a self-assured swagger, his athletic frame filling out his clothes in a way that betrayed his strength. 

I scolded myself internally. Just because he's nice to look at doesn't change the fact that he seems like an arrogant jock. Still, when our eyes met again, I felt a flutter in my stomach I couldn't ignore. 

Harry said something to his friend that made the group erupt into laughter. He flashed a crooked smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. I quickly looked away once more, but the image of his smile lingered in my mind.

Get it together, I told myself sternly. Harry is off-limits. With his reputation, getting involved would only lead to trouble. I turned my focus back to Grace, pushing all thoughts of Harry's eyes, smile and broad shoulders out of my head. 

For the rest of the night, I avoided looking in Harry's direction, though I could feel his gaze on me periodically as the hours wore on. By the time people started trickling out, I felt certain I had avoided any direct interaction with the dashing footballer. 

That is, until I went to lock the door behind the last guest and found him standing there. He flashed that crooked smile again as he leaned against the door frame. "See you around, Y/N," he said, holding my gaze for a moment before disappearing into the night. I stood frozen, my heart racing as I replayed those five simple words in my head.

As I stood there in shock at Harry's unexpected presence, I couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions swirling inside me. His parting words echoed in my mind, leaving me slightly breathless and unsure of what to make of the situation. Gathering my composure, I locked the door behind him and turned to find Mia watching me with a knowing smile.

"Looks like someone caught your eye, Y/N," Mia teased, nudging me playfully. "Harry Styles, huh? Quite the charmer."

I flushed slightly at her comment, trying to brush off any implications. "Oh, come on, Mia. It's not like that," I deflected, hoping to downplay the significance of the moment.

But Mia wasn't convinced. "Sure, sure," she replied with a wink. "Just remember, not all that glitters is gold."

Her words lingered in my mind as I bid her goodnight and retreated to my room. Sitting on my bed, I couldn't shake off the image of Harry's smile or the way he had looked at me in that brief moment by the door. The conflicting thoughts swirled in my head, leaving me restless and contemplative.

The following day at school, as I made my way through the bustling halls, I noticed a familiar figure leaning against the lockers up ahead. It was Harry, his usual confident demeanor on full display as he chatted with his friends. As our eyes met briefly, he flashed a grin in my direction before turning back to his conversation.

Feeling a surge of boldness, I approached him tentatively. "Hey, Harry," I greeted him, trying to keep my tone casual despite the flutter in my stomach.

"Hey there, Y/N," he responded with a smirk, his green eyes twinkling mischievously. "Didn't think you'd show up here again so soon."

I felt my cheeks flush at his words. Clearly he was referring to my abrupt exit last night after our brief encounter at the door. I scrambled to think of a clever response. 

"Well, we do go to the same school," I pointed out, trying to keep my voice light despite the nerves I felt. 

Harry chuckled, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he regarded me with amusement. 

"True enough," he conceded. "But I got the sense you were trying to avoid me last night. Did I make you nervous?"

His bluntness took me aback. I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. Harry's eyes danced with mirth at my flustered state. 

"Cat got your tongue?" He teased. 

I took a steadying breath, determined not to let him get the best of me. "You wish," I retorted, hoping the bravado in my voice sounded more convincing than I felt. 

Harry laughed, a rich warm sound that made my knees weak. Our eyes locked and in that moment, it was like the noisy hallway melted away and there was only the two of us.

"Feisty. I like it," he murmured. Before I could respond, the warning bell rang, snapping us both back to reality. 

"See you around, Y/N," Harry said with a wink before disappearing into the swarm of students heading to class. 

My body froze in place, heart thudding against my ribs as I gazed at the infamous Harry. He exuded an undeniable air of trouble, and yet, as our charged banter replayed in my mind, I couldn't deny the adrenaline pumping through my veins. With a determined stride, I made my way to class, refusing to let this boy be the cause of my tardiness.

I took a seat in my Studies of Shakespeare class, the one subject I truly loved. The works of William Shakespeare never failed to captivate me, and if you could understand the Elizabethan lingo, his witty humor shone through brilliantly. Unfortunately, this particular teacher seemed to have a talent for draining all the life and humor out of these masterpieces.

I tried to focus as the professor droned on about the themes in Romeo and Juliet, but my mind kept wandering back to my encounter with Harry. Something about our charged banter had awakened feelings in me that I didn't quite understand. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a folded piece of paper land on my desk as if taken out of a scene from a movie. I looked around furtively before opening it. In an unfamiliar scrawling handwriting it read:

"What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun." - H

I felt a thrill run through me and quickly tucked the note into my bag before the professor could notice. So Harry was in this class too? I scanned the room subtly until I spotted him a few rows behind me. He caught my eye and gave me a roguish wink.

I turned back to the front, trying to ignore the simmering exhilaration I felt. Over the next few days, the notes kept coming during Shakespeare class, each with a quote or two from the Bard himself. They were usually cheeky and flirtatious, hinting at some blossoming rapport between us.

I found myself anticipating each one, my heart skipping a beat when I would spot a new folded note on my desk. Our eyes would meet across the room, a hidden smile just between us.

After class one day, as I gathered my things, I sensed Harry approach my desk. "So when's our study session?" he asked nonchalantly, though there was a glint of something more in his eyes. I hesitated, knowing I should keep my distance, yet unable to deny I was intrigued.

I nervously tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, trying to appear nonchalant. "Well, I don't know... I've heard you're not the most dedicated studier," I teased, giving him a playful smile.

Harry chuckled, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "Oh, but that's where you're wrong. I may not look like it, but I'm quite the Shakespeare aficionado," he replied with a grin.

I raised an eyebrow in skepticism. "Is that so? Well, I suppose we could arrange a study session... if you can prove your expertise," I challenged, a hint of challenge in my tone.

His grin widened, accepting the challenge. "Consider it done. How about we meet at the library tomorrow after school?" Harry suggested, his gaze unwavering.

I hesitated for a moment, the thrill of anticipation coursing through me. "Alright, it's a date then," I agreed, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of spending more time with him.

As the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, Harry flashed me one last grin before disappearing into the bustling hallway. My heart raced with both nervousness and exhilaration as I packed up my belongings, eager for our upcoming study session.

The following day at the library, I found myself anxiously scanning the room for Harry. My pulse quickened when I spotted him sitting at a table in the corner, a stack of Shakespearean plays spread out in front of him.

I made my way over to him, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement swirling inside me. "Ready to impress me with your Shakespeare knowledge?" I asked with a teasing smile as I took a seat across from him.

Harry flashed me a charming grin. "Just watch and learn," he said confidently, picking up a copy of Romeo and Juliet and flipping to a random page.

As he began to recite lines from the play with passion and flair, I couldn't help but be captivated by his enthusiasm. His eyes lit up as he delved into each line, bringing the centuries-old words to life in a way that was both mesmerizing and captivating.

By the time our study session ended, I found myself completely enthralled by Harry's interpretation of Shakespeare's works. As we gathered our things to leave, he turned to me with a twinkle in his eye, he knew a lot more about the works than he let on to.

Harry turned to me, “So now that I’ve shown you i’m smart, I know Shakespeare, when are you coming to one of my games?” he asked confidently.

I was taken aback by his forward invitation. Attending one of his football games felt intimate in a way that made me nervous. 

"Oh, um, I don't know..." I fumbled over my words, suddenly feeling shy. 

Harry tilted his head, giving me a crooked smile. "Come on, it'll be fun. I'll even give you a personal tour of the field afterwards," he joked. 

I bit my lip, considering it. There was no denying I felt drawn to him, despite trying to keep my distance. And the thought of seeing him command the field sent a little thrill through me. 

"Alright, I suppose I could stop by," I finally conceded, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear self-consciously. 

Harry's face lit up. "Brilliant! Our next game is on Friday. I'll leave a ticket for you at will call," he said eagerly.

I nodded, butterflies taking flight in my stomach. "Okay, yeah. I’ll see you then," I replied softly. 

Harry gave me a dazzling smile and I felt my knees go weak.

Friday night arrived and I found myself filled with nervous excitement as I made my way to the football stadium. I couldn't believe I had actually agreed to come watch Harry play. As I approached the ticket booth, I gave my name and they handed me the ticket Harry had left for me. 

I found my seat in the packed bleachers and waited anxiously for the game to start. When the players rushed onto the field, I immediately spotted Harry's mop of curly hair. He looked focused and determined as he took his position on the field. 

As the game began, I was immediately drawn in by Harry's commanding presence on the field. His movements were fluid and precise, each pass and dodge executed with passion and skill. With each successful play, the crowd erupted into thunderous cheers, mirroring my own excitement. It was impossible not to join in, jumping to my feet and cheering for Harry along with everyone else.

At halftime, Harry made his way over to the sidelines, sweat glistening on his forehead and tattooed arms, his chest heaving from exertion. As he scanned the crowd for familiar faces, his eyes locked onto mine and a wide grin spread across his face. He waved enthusiastically, causing my cheeks to flush as I shyly waved back in return. 

In the second half of the game, Harry's presence seemed to radiate even more brightly. With each touchdown he scored, his fists pumped triumphantly in the air. The crowd roared and cheered as he ripped off his helmet and hoisted it victoriously above his head, his teammates swarming around him in celebration.

As the stadium emptied out, I stayed behind with a swarm of butterflies fluttering in my stomach. I couldn't wait to see Harry once again. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he emerged from the locker room, his hair still damp from his post-game shower but his eyes shining with joy.

"So, what did you think?" he asked eagerly as he approached me.

"You were truly spectacular out there," I gushed earnestly. A wide grin stretched across Harry's face.

"Come on, let me give you that promised tour," he said playfully, offering me his arm. Laughing, I happily took it and followed him onto the empty field, my heart racing with excitement and admiration for the amazing athlete by my side.

Harry led me onto the empty stadium field, the night air crisp and cool against our skin. He pointed out spots on the grass where pivotal plays had happened, describing them with a passion that revealed his deep love for the game. 

I found myself enthralled, leaning into him as we walked, his arm solid and warm beneath my hand. When we reached the middle of the field, he turned to face me. His eyes were soft, searching my face in the dim glow of the stadium lights. 

"You know, I was afraid you wouldn't come tonight," he admitted quietly. 

I tilted my head. "Why's that?"

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "You never seemed to like me much before. I figured I wasn't your type."

Heat rose to my cheeks. He wasn't wrong - I'd unfairly judged him as arrogant and cocky. But tonight had shattered those assumptions. 

"I guess I realized there's more to you than meets the eye," I said softly. 

Harry's smile widened. He lifted his hand, gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. My breath caught at his touch. Slowly, he leaned in. I let my eyes fall shut in anticipation...

But suddenly, the stadium lights flickered off, plunging us into darkness. We jumped apart in surprise. 

Harry laughed. "Guess that's our cue to head out." 

He took my hand, interlacing our fingers, and led me towards the parking lot. I walked close beside him, hyper-aware of his palm pressed against mine.

As he towered over me, Harry's eyes scanned the street, searching for a car. "Where did you park?" he asked, his voice deep and smooth.

I shifted nervously on my feet, avoiding eye contact. "Oh. Uh. I didn't drive. I just live around the street," I murmured, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. The thought of navigating English roads was terrifying to me.

A warm chuckle escaped from Harry's lips as he looked back down at me. "I can drive you home, love," he offered, extending a hand towards me. His scent wafted towards me - a mix of cologne and something woodsy - and I couldn't help but feel a flutter in my stomach at his closeness.

As Harry and I walked towards his car, our hands still entwined, I felt a sense of excitement and anticipation build within me. "So, tell me more about this amazing game-winning touchdown," I teased, trying to break the silence that had fallen between us.

Harry laughed softly, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he glanced at me sideways. "Oh, you mean the one where I body-slammed the other team's runner into oblivion?" He pretended to flex his muscles playfully. "That was pretty epic, if I do say so myself."

I shook my head, feigning disbelief. "You're such a show-off," I said with a grin. "I bet you were the star of the school playground too."

Harry snorted. "Hardly. I was more of a loner growing up. Spent most of my time with my nose buried in books."

"Really?" I raised an eyebrow in surprise. "And here I thought all jocks were brain-dead."

He laughed again, his laughter echoing through the empty streets as we walked towards his car. When we finally reached it, Harry unlocked the door and gestured for me to get inside. As I slid into the passenger seat, I couldn't help but notice how perfectly he filled the driver's seat - broad shoulders tapering down to narrow hips and long legs. The image of him all sweaty and wet from a shower flashed through my mind, making my cheeks heat up again.

"So," Harry began as he started the engine and pulled out onto the road, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, "tell me more about yourself."

I felt myself blush even harder at his directness but decided to play along. "Well," I said slowly, thinking quickly. "I'm a huge bookworm too - Harry Potter is probably my favorite series ever."

Harry chuckled softly as he glanced at me briefly before looking back at the road. "I can see why you fit right in here in England then."

We drove through the quiet streets in companionable silence for a while before Harry spoke up again. "You know, you don't have to act all tough around me," he said quietly, his eyes still on the road as he slowed down at a stoplight.

I turned to face him fully now, surprised by his words. "I wasn't trying to be tough," I said defensively. "I just didn't want you to think that... well, never mind what I didn't want you to think," I muttered under my breath.

Harry's face softened into a gentle smile as he reached out to brush a strand of hair behind my ear once again - a gesture that sent shivers down my spine despite the warmth of the car interior. "It's okay," he murmured soothingly as he took my hand in his once more and squeezed gently before letting go when the light turned green again.

The rest of our drive was filled with more easy conversation punctuated by moments of awkward silence broken only by the sounds of our breathing and occasional traffic noises outside. When we finally pulled up outside my house I found myself hesitating before opening the car door knowing that this was goodbye.

Under the dim glow of the street lamp, I tentatively turned to face Harry. "Thanks for...for tonight," I stammered out, suddenly self-conscious under his intense gaze. 

His emerald eyes twinkled mysteriously as he simply nodded and began unbuckling his seatbelt. His eyes never left mine, setting off a simmering warmth between us that was hard to ignore. 

"I should probably walk you to your door," he said softly, accentuating each word with an inexplicably seductive lilt. My heart pounded in my chest as we exited the car and made our way towards my apartment.

Once at the front door, we stood facing each other in silence, the air around us thick with unspoken words and desires. I felt his strong fingers gently cradle my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. The intensity of this simple touch sent sparks racing down my spine, pooling heat in places I hadn't even known existed.

"Can I come inside?" His voice was barely a whisper but it echoed loudly in my ears.

My mind screamed caution but my body had other plans. “Yes,” I breathed out, unlocking the door and pulling him inside.

Inside, Harry's lips found mine in a searing kiss that left me breathless. His tongue teased against mine, creating a warm and delicious friction that sent shivers down my legs. As he pressed his hips against me, I could feel the unmistakable hardness growing between us. Our hands roamed freely over each other's bodies, exploring new territory and seeking pleasure through every touch.

Harry's fingers made their way to the waistband of my skirt, pulling it down over my hips and letting it fall to the ground. He lifted me up onto the edge of a nearby table, spreading my legs slightly as he stood between them. The feel of his fingers brushing against my inner thigh caused me to gasp and arch my back in anticipation.

Harry pulled back abruptly,“I’m sorry,” He started, “that was really inappropriate.”

As Harry apologized, his eyes were drawn to the hint of my arousal peeking out from between my legs. His hesitation vanished as his fingers brushed against my wetness once more, this time without pulling away. He groaned in approval and leaned forward, pressing his lips against mine once more. I craved him in the worst ways.

Our tongues tangled as he pushed me back onto the table, spreading my legs further apart. His hands found their way under my shirt, skimming over my stomach before lifting it up, exposing my bra-clad breasts. He took a deep breath, inhaling my scent and trailing his fingers lightly across one tight nipple.

"Harry," I moaned, cavinginto his touch. "Please don't stop."

He smirked wickedly down at me before pulling back slightly. In one swift motion, he yanked my shirt over my head, tossing it aside carelessly. Grabbing hold of both sides of my bra, he pulled it down too with such force that my breasts were freed from their confinement.

I gasped at the sudden rush of air hitting my sensitive nipples but before I could catch my breath, he took one of them into his mouth sucking hard while pinching the other between two fingers, teasing it mercilessly.

"Fuck," I whimpered, clawing at the table underneath me as pleasure coursed through me like lightning. The intense mix of pain and pleasure sent waves of desire crashing over me as I felt myself becoming wetter with every passing second.

Sliding one hand down towards his pants, I slowly undid the button and zipper before slipping my hand inside his boxers to grip him firmly around his growing erection. He groaned into my breast at the contact sending shivers down my spine.

"You want me to fuck you?" he whispered hoarsely against my skin leaving a trail of saliva along my collarbone as he ran his tongue upwards caressingly .

"Yes," I breathed out between parted lips unable to form complete words due to the intensity of emotions running through me. 

My heart raced as his erection throbbed in my hand. I could feel the heat radiating off his skin, mixed with the desire that seemed to emanate from him. His other hand slid down my back, over my ass cheeks, and gripped them roughly, pulling me closer against his hardness.

"Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are? You and your little shy good girl act" he growled into my neck, nipping at the skin there softly. With one swift movement, he lifted me up onto the countertop, pushing my legs apart with his hips. His mouth trailed kisses along my jawline, down my throat, and on my breasts. 

I arched my back slightly offering myself to him more fully as he took a hungry mouthful of one of my nipples into his mouth sucking on it hard while pinching the other between his fingers causing a sharp intake of breath from me which made him smile devilishly before moving on to devour the other one.

My body trembled with anticipation as he bit my neck playfully, his rough hands sliding over my hips and ass cheeks before pulling me against him. His cock twitched against my wet core, making me whimper in want. "You like that, don't you?" he growled, his voice low and husky. "You're so fucking beautiful."

"Harry," I moaned, my voice reduced to a desperate whimper as he continued teasing me with his words and touches. "Please..."

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with our ragged breathing and the occasional moan. I could feel myself getting lost in the sensations, my body responding eagerly to his movements. His hands were everywhere, tracing over my curves and gripping me tightly as he pounded into me.

My own hands were roaming his back, digging into his flesh as I tried to hold on to something amidst the overwhelming pleasure that was coursing through me. Every inch of my body felt on fire, and I couldn't get enough.

"Fuck," he grunted, his face contorting with pleasure. "You feel so good."

I whimpered in response, unable to form any coherent words as he continued to move inside me relentlessly. My whole world had narrowed down to this moment – his body against mine, the sound of our bodies coming together in a perfect rhythm.

My mind was blissfully blank as he increased his pace, his thrusts becoming rougher and more urgent. I could feel my climax building up within me, like a fire threatening to consume me whole.

And then it hit me like a tidal wave – intense and all-consuming. My back arched off the counter as I cried out his name, my body trembling with pleasure as every nerve ending exploded with ecstasy.

He followed soon after, letting out a loud groan as he spilled himself inside me. We stayed still for a moment, trying to catch our breaths and bask in the aftermath of our passion.

But eventually reality came crashing back around us. Panic started creeping up inside me as I tried to gather my thoughts and make sense of what had just happened. 

As I lay there, my heart still pounding in my chest, he gently pulled out of me and straightened up. His eyes, dark with desire just moments ago, now softened with a mixture of tenderness and regret.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of our heavy breathing. "I shouldn't have let things go this far."

I sat up slowly, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside me – confusion, guilt, and a lingering sense of pleasure that refused to dissipate. 

"It's not just your fault," I murmured, avoiding his gaze as I tried to gather my clothes around me. "I wanted this too."

He reached out a hand to touch my arm, but hesitated before making contact.

"We should talk about this," he said finally, his tone serious. "About what it means for us."

I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of his words settling between us. What had started as a moment of passion had now morphed into something more complicated, something that demanded attention and discussion.

As we dressed in silence, the air in the room felt charged with unspoken thoughts and emotions. The intensity of our physical connection lingered like a ghost between us, refusing to be ignored.

We began to gather our clothes from around the room, now tainted with the evidence of our reckless choices. Harry buried his face into his shirt before pulling it on, perhaps ruminating on what just occurred, or maybe trying to drown out the reality with the lingering scent of his cologne.

"Y/n," he started after a long silence, pulling his trousers up. His voice sounded strained, an indication that he was struggling with the right choice of words. "I... I didn't mean for this to... I mean, I like spending time with you." He sighed heavily, rubbing his face between his large palms.

I remained silent as I fastened my bra. The finality in his voice was suffocating, making it harder for me to breathe with each passing moment. I felt my heart thumping loudly in my chest – a crude reminder of the complication we had willingly dived into.

"I like you, Y/N," he said finally, his voice a hoarse whisper. The words hung in the air between us, hovering like a dense fog, obscuring any clarity that might lie beyond.

I stopped fumbling with my blouse, my fingers stilled by his confession. "Harry," I began, my voice barely audible. Fear clung to me, making my words tremble.

"I know," he cut me off before I could finish what I started. "I know we're both in different places... Me with football and you with your studies." There was a tingling silence after his statement, as if he was waiting for me to confirm or deny his declaration.

I sighed heavily, tugging at the hem of my blouse, feeling the cool fabric against my still heated skin. "It's not that simple Harry," I admitted, blinking back tears that had started to sting my eyes. "This," I motioned around the room, encompassing our discarded underwear strewn haphazardly around the room - a silent testament to the passion that had just consumed us, "this complicates things."

He ran his hand through his tousled hair and nodded solemnly. "I understand," he replied, a hint of resignation etching lines onto his face. His gaze was heavy with something akin to regret as it met mine.

My breath hitched in my throat at the intensity of his stare. I wanted desperately to reach out and ease the burden that seemed to weigh heavily on him. But reality was an insidious shadow that lurked in our midst, reminding us of the impracticality of our desires.

"I think it's better if we keep our distance for now," Harry broke the silence after what felt like an eternity. His words were like cold water dousing the fire that our bodies had kindled only moments ago.

A feeling of sudden emptiness clawed at me. His words, though probably said in goodwill, felt like a punch to my gut. I swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over.

I nodded, unable to bring myself to utter a word. He stepped towards me and for a moment I thought he would pull me into his arms one last time. But he merely extended a hand that I shook lightly, the gesture felt impersonal after the intimacy we had just shared.

Without another word, he turned and left the room. I stood still in the silence that followed, the sound of his departing footsteps echoing in my ears long after he was gone.

Mia came home later that night, oblivious to the charged atmosphere that still lingered, suffocating and heavy in the air. Her chatter about an extra credit assignment she’d completed was a stark contrast to the silence that had enveloped the room just hours ago. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” she asked suddenly, noticing my distant gaze. I gave her a weak smile in response before excusing myself to bed.

As I lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, Harry's words echoed through my mind. "I think it's better if we keep our distance for now." His voice was etched into my memory, roughened by regret and something else I couldn't quite place. His face bore an expression that told me this was as hard for him as it was for me.

The next day was a blur. My classes seemed trivial compared to the turmoil swirling in my mind. My interactions with others were mechanical and flat as if I was watching myself from outside my body.

Football practice was going on when I walked past the field on my way back from the campus library. My eyes instinctively sought out Harry among the sea of players. I found him focused on his game, every muscle in his body straining as he kicked the ball towards the goalpost.

His world seemed unchanged—still revolving around football—while mine felt like it had been knocked off its axis.

The following weeks were no easier. Everywhere I went, I could feel his presence like a phantom pain - a dull ache that refused to fade away. In every conversation, every song playing in the background, every corner of campus - Harry was there.

I knew we had made a rational decision, given our circumstances. But my heart couldn't comprehend what my mind had already accepted.

Months passed and winter set in, blanketing Manchester in white. Serene and beautiful yet so melancholy it mirrored my mood perfectly. The once familiar campus looked different under the soft glow of the snow as if to mirror the change that had occurred in my life.

One evening, as I was walking back from the library, I spotted Harry sitting alone on a bench, bundled up in a thick coat, his breath misting in the frigid air. His eyes were trained on the football field, currently blanketed by snow, and his hands were tucked into his pockets, his usual energy replaced by a pensive quietness.

I hesitated, weighing my options. We hadn't spoken since that night – the night when our worlds collided and then abruptly fell apart. But something drew me towards him – an inexplicable magnetism I had been fighting for so long.

Stepping tentatively closer, I cleared my throat to announce my presence. "Harry," I said softly, trying not to startle him.

He looked up at the sound of my voice, surprise flickering across his features before they settled into guarded neutrality. "Y/N," he responded with a curt nod, but made no move to invite me to sit.

Taking a leap of faith, I lowered myself onto the bench next to him, maintaining some distance while also bracing for the icy cold through my jeans. For several minutes we sat in silence, lost in our own thoughts as we stared out at the snowy field.

"I've missed you." The words slipped out before I could stop them.

He turned toward me then, his emerald eyes soft and searching as they met mine. His lips opened as if to say something but closed again as if reconsidering his words.

"Y/N..." His voice trailed off and there was a long pause before he continued. "I’ve missed you too."

Relief washed over me at his confession but it was quickly replaced with a gnawing sadness as I realized that missing each other wasn’t enough to bridge the gap between us. Our realities were still the same - he was still the star football player with ambitions bigger than Manchester itself and I was still an English major trying to carve out a place for myself in academia.

“Do you ever think about…?” I started, swallowing hard as I tried to voice the question that had been eating at me.

“Us?” He completed my sentence, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze was heavy but he held it steady, openly showing the vulnerability he usually kept hidden beneath his star athlete facade. “All the time.”

The honesty in his confession hit me harder than I expected. We were both stuck in our respective worlds, looking at each other from afar but never truly reaching out.

I took a deep breath, feeling the biting winter air fill my lungs before exhaling slowly. “We can’t keep doing this, Harry,” I said finally, breaking the silence that had fallen between us.

He looked at me then, his gaze filled with understanding and something else I couldn't quite place. “I know,” he replied softly, his eyes never leaving mine.

The future was uncertain and full of challenges. But if there was one thing I had learnt from this whole ordeal, it was that some chances are worth taking. No matter how daunting they may seem.

[cleo-fox]

Conquer

Part 1 of 5

Series Masterlist

Summary: The king intends to take a bride.

You just never thought it would be you.

(Soulmate AU where Loki won)

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Tag List: I don’t have a tag list for this fic, sorry! The best way to hear about updates is to follow me on Tumblr or subscribe to the fic on AO3.

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, enemies to lovers, dirty talk, praise kink, oral sex (fem receiving), teasing, p in v sex, vaginal fingering.

A/N: I’m kind of fascinated by the concept of a soulmate AU where Loki wins and this is just another take on that thought. If you've read my fic Surrender, this one is a different universe (an AU of an AU? Is that a thing?)

I am indebted to @infinitystoner, who was kind enough to talk me through some of my doubts about this fic. This one is for you, K. (Also, everyone should go read her work, it's fabulous).

The king intends to take a bride.

At first you think it’s just a stupid rumor, but with time, it becomes clear that it’s not merely a stupid rumor, but a true rumor about a stupid plan. He hasn’t found his soulmate; the speculation is that this is about producing an heir or something similar. Which is also stupid because he’s the one who took over your fucking planet. He can make new rules for succession if he wants to. He doesn’t have to make other people suffer.

You, like most people, still harbor a lot of anger and resentment toward Loki.

You don’t know who he’s going to rope into this plan, but you feel bad for her already. Imagine not only having to be married to that monster, but being in this weird second place to whoever is unfortunate enough to be his soulmate. Imagine having to fuck him, to try and have his kid, all the while knowing you’ll be discarded once he finds his soulmate. Imagine having to go along with all of this and never being able to say what you really think.

The only person you feel sorrier for is whoever turns out to be his soulmate.

Later, all of this will strike you as absurdly ironic.

But you don’t know any of that yet.

*

You took a job at the hotel because you needed a change of pace after Loki took over. It was just a front desk job—you checked people in and out, answered questions, and said “let me get my manager” whenever there was a serious problem with a guest. It wasn’t glamorous or fun, but it was straightforward and you never had to bring work home with you.

The one thing that you never really considered was whether you were inadvertently choosing a job that would bring you into closer proximity to the man you were trying so desperately hard to not think about at all.

You probably should have considered it—you knew when you took the job that he did a fair amount of travel. You never really understood why—he conquered the entire fucking planet, you think he’d be content to just chill in his palace or whatever. But no. He was constantly on the move, constantly showing up and demanding to be accommodated, and people put up with it because what else are they supposed to do? You can’t exactly persona non grata the guy that successfully took over your planet and made himself king. If that worked, he wouldn’t be here in the first place.

You kind of assumed that he wouldn’t show up to your hotel—it wasn’t conveniently located to anything useful and while it technically had a five star rating, you didn’t think it offered the same caliber of accommodations as the places he was known to stay.

As it turns out, you were wrong on all counts. Hilariously wrong. Because now his steward is here in your hotel lobby. Or his…emissary? You’re not sure what this guy’s official title is. You recognize him from the news—he can often be spotted in the entourage of guards and staff that accompany Loki everywhere, but you don’t know his name. He is rattling off a monologue of sorts—the king requires accommodations, only the finest rooms, and so on. You feel as though you are having an out of body experience as you click through the booking software and confirm that the penthouse is available. You breathe an inner sigh of relief—it would have been manageable to evict whichever rich person had booked it, but it would have fucked up the cleaning crew’s scheduling for at least the next week and you know that corporate is already up Marisol’s ass about your location’s overtime.

You don’t really expect him to show up during this transaction. If you had, you would have said “let me get my manager” and washed your hands of it—you don’t get paid nearly enough to deal with self-proclaimed kings. But as you are booking the room (who the fuck are you supposed to list as the guarantor on the invoice? This wasn’t covered in your training), Loki storms in, followed by a cadre of guards.

You’re not really prepared to see him in person—that’s partly why you freeze. He’s so tall and well…real. It sounds stupid, but it’s jarring seeing him in front of you instead of on a screen or in a picture. He’s not exactly more frightening, but looking at him makes your pulse quicken.

He’s scolding the steward (emissary?) about something—you’re so distracted that you miss exactly what it is that has him so annoyed.

And then you realize that the mark on your left wrist is burning.

You swallow hard. No. Not him.

Loki looks up and his eyes lock with yours.

Fucking hell.

*

The wedding is a spectacle, to say the least.

Your dress is fucking ridiculous. Instead of the traditional white, you are draped in yards of green fabric covered in thousands of emeralds and diamonds and painstakingly embroidered with thread made of real gold and silver. It is very much a statement about who you are and who you belong to. You don’t care for it, but you don’t really have a choice—the details of the ceremony have been largely left to other people to decide. Part of you thinks they must have been planning for this for years, based on the number of things that are already prepared. Or maybe having access to magic negates the need for planning ahead.

You are much too angry to actually ask Loki about any of this. Not that you see much of him before the ceremony anyway.

You go through the motions of the ceremony, trying to keep your cool. It’s only been a week since he found you at the hotel, so the fact that you haven’t consummated your soulbond is more akin to an annoying itch than anything more disruptive, but when he kisses you at the conclusion of the ceremony, it's…intense, to say the least. The mild ache that settled itself between your thighs last week seems to swell, sending a fresh wave of arousal to your core. When he slides his tongue past your lips, all you want to do is release a wanton moan directly into his mouth and rub yourself shamelessly against him. The fact that you’re standing on a platform while the entire world looks on is really the only thing that stops you.

The fact that this is your immediate reaction scares you a bit. You know it’s biology—soulbonds are meant to be consummated isn’t just a saying—but there’s part of you that feels like you should have a stronger handle on that impulse. You are mad at him, you remind yourself. He took over your entire planet, installed himself as king, and then had the audacity to be your soulmate. Focus. Be angry.

You wonder if your family and friends are watching. Your phone ran out of battery the night after he found you and you haven’t had the heart to charge it. You’re barely managing your own emotional reaction—you’re not ready to invite anyone else into it just yet.

The rest of your wedding day is a blur. You meet a bunch of important people and retain exactly none of their names or roles. There is an elaborate multi-course feast and you manage to eat without spilling food on your dress, which feels like a small miracle. You meet more important people and somehow retain even less information. You dance—a few dances with important people whose names you’ve forgotten, but mostly with Loki. The sun sets. They bring out an elaborate dessert course. You dance again. Loki’s hand on your waist fans the flames of desire that you’re trying so hard to ignore.

Finally, you’re whisked away to prepare for bed. It took three people to get you into your dress, and it takes just as many to get you out. They help you into a nightgown that you also didn’t get to pick out—and in fact, it’s the first time you’re seeing it at all. It’s almost too pretty to sleep in, though you suppose that’s the point—you’re supposed to fall asleep naked and sated in the arms of your new husband (god, it’s so weird that you have a husband). You’re not so sure that this is the specific fate that’s in your cards, but you anticipate the nightgown will be coming off at some point this evening. In the interim, you look stereotypically virginal in white lace and chiffon, a glittering emerald pendant resting in your cleavage.

You’ve been staying in a guest suite since he found you, but tonight, they bring you to his rooms. Your rooms, you suppose. Somehow, you doubt he’s the sort who believes that husbands and wives should sleep separately.

The lights are on, but it’s quiet. You wonder if he’s even here.

You approach the couch that sits in front of the floor to ceiling windows that overlook the city. You can see fireworks and twinkling lights of different celebrations and your stomach clenches like a fist. It’s supposed to be in honor of you. Earth’s new queen. A title that shouldn’t even exist, let alone belong to you.

You turn away from the window and sit down on the couch. You stare at the wall, hands twisting the delicate fabric of your nightgown in your lap.

You hear a sound in the other room—his study, you think—and your heart leaps to your throat, practically buzzing with an emotion that feels like the strange cousin of anxiety and anticipation.

You keep your eyes locked on the wall as you listen to his footsteps draw closer.

“It’s customary to announce yourself when you enter someone’s quarters, you know.”

You pause for a moment before letting your gaze trail to him. It’s a conscious, obnoxious power play on your part—you are trying to show him that you still have agency, that he has not yet won your respect or admiration.

You’re not even sure that it registers, which only serves to irritate you further.

He is still wearing most of his wedding clothes, though he’s taken off the fine surcoat from the ceremony, exposing the soft tunic he was wearing underneath. He is smirking—that seems to be his expression of choice, you’ve noticed.

“Aren’t these my rooms too?” you ask. “Is it customary to announce myself in my own space?”

You are trying to be rude, but it doesn’t seem to matter: he simply laughs.

“You are spirited,” he says, looking you over appreciatively, stirring a wild and burning need in your hips, slickness collecting in the lacy white underwear that had been chosen for you.

“And you intend to break me, is that it?” you snap with more venom than is perhaps wise.

“Of course not.” His answer surprises you, though you are determined to not let that show in your face. “Your will is part of your appeal. I’d no sooner crush a rose beneath my boot.”

You are skeptical of this claim given the amount of damage he did to New York City, but your traitorous cunt throbs at his words nonetheless.

“I’m not happy about any of this, you know,” you say, hoping that your anger will act like roiling floodwaters on the firestorm of lust that’s continuing to build in your hips.

It doesn’t, of course. What’s worse: he laughs. Again.

“I’d gathered,” he says. “You are wonderfully unsubtle when you’re angry.”

“I mean, are you surprised?” you say irritably. “I didn’t even get to pick out my own wedding dress, for fuck’s sake.”

“This is the burden of the office, I’m afraid,” he says. “Your wants and desires are often secondary to the needs of the crown.”

You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from screaming at him. “I think you’re missing the point.”

“I think you’ll find I’m not.”

You let out one long breath. “Are you trying to irritate me?”

Another smirk. “I’m afraid I simply have a gift for it.”

You finally give in and scowl. “Great. This is going about as well as I had expected.”

His eyes drift down the column of your throat to the emerald pendant resting in your cleavage and then to the bodice of your nightgown. “Perhaps it’s time we concern ourselves with activities that require less talking.” He licks his lips and brings his gaze back up to yours.

“I’m not entirely convinced anything would stop you from talking,” you say.

“I suspect letting me bury my tongue in your cunt might do the trick.”

For the first time today, you are entirely speechless. The fire burning low in your hips roars into an inferno, like someone has poured accelerant along your nerves and Loki has struck a match. You take in one shaky breath, your heart thrumming in your throat.

“That’s what I thought,” he says with a dark sort of smugness. “To bed, wife.”

You steadfastly ignore the way your stomach jumps when he calls you ‘wife.’ Why is that hot? It shouldn’t be hot.

You’re tempted to argue with him some more—you don’t like giving him even the vaguest impression that you’re following his orders or anything like that—but one smoldering look from him has your heart pounding and another wave of fresh arousal flooding between your legs. You follow him to the bed, trying to keep your expression neutral and indifferent.

He pulls you firmly against him and you wonder if he can feel your heart pounding in your chest. There’s no space between you—you can feel his stomach muscles expand and contract with every slow intake of breath, the press of his slowly hardening cock against your stomach.

He tilts your face up to his and claims your mouth in a devouring kiss, and this time, the moan that you’d held back during the ceremony slips from your lips almost immediately. He makes a low growling noise in return, his hands sliding to the row of small pearl buttons that hold up the back of your nightgown.

You suspect that beyond aesthetic and functional value, the purpose of these buttons is to facilitate a slow, sexy reveal; Loki undoes exactly two and a half buttons before roughly pulling the edges of the fabric apart, the remaining buttons snapping from their threads and pinging against the floor.

You pull away from him, immediately annoyed. “Do you make a habit of ruining other people’s things? What if I wanted to wear that again?”

He laughs, tugging the fabric off your shoulders. “Perhaps you forget the extraordinary powers I have at my command,” he says, staring greedily at your breasts as he tugs the nightgown down your waist, pulling it off your hips so it falls to the floor. “I could tear this gown off you every night and remake it every morning with no more than a click of my fingers.”

Fucking magic powers undercutting your goddamn fucking point.

“Yeah, well, you’re still a jackass,” you say sourly, unwilling to concede the point any further.

His smile is sharp in a way that makes you shiver and he slips his hand into your underwear, his smile growing as he feels how slick you are. “It doesn’t seem to bother you all that much, does it?”

You try to keep your expression stern, but his fingers find your clit and you can’t help the moan that falls from your lips.

“Your sweet cunt is so ready to come.” He slides a finger into you and you whimper. “It’s obscene how wet you are for me.”

You bite back a plea and kiss him instead. His mouth is rough on yours, teeth nipping at your lower lip, tongue plundering your mouth. He slides a second finger into you and you keen.

“Yes,” he groans against your mouth. “Take it like a good girl.”

You clench around his fingers and your hands seek purchase in his hair. You tug on it lightly and he growls with pleasure before he pulls away, his hands moving to the waistband of your underwear and tugging it off your hips.

“Get on the bed.” His tone brooks no arguments. “Now.”

It’s tempting to talk back, tempting to resist. You are still angry about every aspect of this relationship and this stupid fucking wedding. But you know you need this—the dull ache in your hips is only growing more pronounced with every passing moment and the brief feeling of his fingers on your clit was nothing short of heaven. Soulbonds are meant to be consummated and your body seems to be doing everything it can to propel you toward that end.

You kick your underwear the rest of the way off before sitting down on the bed and lying back on the pillows.

He pauses for a moment to look you over, his gaze trailing lazily over your bare skin, his hand absently moving to palm his cock through his trousers. “Spread your legs,” he says. You do and you catch a breath of a groan from him as he stares at you. Your cunt throbs in response and you bite your lip to keep yourself from whimpering.

He allows himself one moment before he crawls on the bed to join you. He kneels between your legs, staring greedily at your exposed cunt, running a thumb along the edge of your folds. Your hips rock upward involuntarily, chasing his hand, seeking friction.

“Such a pretty cunt,” he murmurs. “So soaking wet, so desperately needy for my touch.” He pauses again, licking his lips. “I think I might need a taste.”

Your breath stutters in your chest and he kisses the inside of your thigh, slowly licking and sucking his way upward in a tantalizing preview of what’s to come. You’re already soaking and you can feel yourself growing wetter as his sinful mouth draws closer and closer to your aching need.

You’re not entirely sure whether it’s a moan or a whine that passes your lips when he finally licks that first long, lazy stripe from your entrance all the way up to your clit. He groans low and wanting against your cunt, his tongue rolling over your clit once more before he catches it between his lips and slowly begins to suck.

There is no getting around it: Loki is a pro at eating pussy.

It would be easier if he wasn’t, you find yourself thinking somewhere in the haze between orgasms. If he were mediocre, it would make it so much easier to be angry at him, to resent your current situation. This is not to say that you’ve abandoned your anger at all—you are still mad. But your anger feels so much less effective when he’s spent a solid ninety minutes with his head between your legs and you’ve lost track of the number of times he’s made you come.

He is—predictably—infuriatingly smug about all of this.

Your first orgasm arrives so quickly that it seems to take you both by surprise. And indeed, he lifts his head moments later, already smirking.

“That was awfully quick, wife,” he says. The glint in his eye tells you that he absolutely noticed how you reacted to that name earlier and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from scowling.

“Maybe you’re out of practice,” you say. Even as you say it, it doesn’t sound convincing (it doesn’t even make sense when you think about it later) and Loki laughs outright.

“I think not,” he says, carefully sliding one long index finger inside of you. “I think your poor cunt has been sorely neglected, either by you or some subpar lover you took to ease the ache of missing me.” He adds a second finger and you bite your lip to keep in a moan. “I think you’ll be begging for me before the night is out.” His fingertips press teasingly against that spot inside you and you take in a sharp breath.

He starts lazily moving his fingers in and out of you and while it feels good, you know it’s not going to be enough to get you there. You suspect, from the way that he’s smirking, that he knows this, too.

“Do you want my mouth again? I don’t think you’re done.”

“You’re trying to be a jerk and I don’t like it,” you say.

He laughs and draws his thumb briefly over your clit. “Darling, I only want you to tell me what you want.”

Your eyes narrow. “Why?”

“I think you can understand the appeal of hearing a beautiful woman beg for your touch.”

His compliment immediately clashes with the suggestion that you begging for him is a possibility.

He smiles, catlike, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“You need my mouth again,” he says, fingers curling inside you. “You need more. I can feel how wet you are, sweet thing.” His thumb presses against your clit and retreats as soon as your breath hitches.

“I could keep you like this for hours. Days, even,” he says, lazily stroking his fingers inside you. “I could keep you right on the edge, begging for your release. But I don’t think you want that. Even I don’t want that. I think you want to come again right now and I think you want my mouth.”

“I’m not begging you for it,” you say.

“I’ve only asked you to tell me what you want,” he says. “I’ve merely expressed that I find the idea of you begging very appealing.”

You want to smack him. With your luck, though, that would turn out to be one of his kinks and then you’ll really be in for it. Your fingers flex against the sheets.

“Do you want to come, darling? Do you want my mouth again?” he asks with a feigned innocence that suggests it’s not a loaded question, even as the glint in his eyes tells you it is.

You’re silent for a beat and then his thumb returns to your clit, pressing and stroking as his fingers curl inside of you. Your hips rock with his hand and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from moaning aloud when he stops a few seconds later, his eyebrows raised like he’s expecting your answer.

This exchange repeats four more times. On the fifth, you finally break.

“Please,” you whimper. You sound more desperate than you would prefer, but your overwhelming need to come has quickly superseded whatever shreds of decency you have left.

“Please what?” he asks, radiating smugness.

You’re not quite so far gone that you can’t manage a scowl, which he only laughs at.

“I’m waiting…” he says, his fingers curling in a teasing way.

You know there’s no getting around this. “I need to come.”

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, like he’s expecting more.

You resist the urge to sigh. “I need your mouth. Please.”

He barely spares a second for a wicked grin and a growl of praise that only elevates your need before he’s lowering his mouth again to your clit.

Your second orgasm is somehow even quicker than the first, only this time, you’re already whimpering for the next one as soon as you catch your breath.

Mercifully, he doesn’t lift his mouth from your cunt this time, though he does give you a wicked look that more or less says the same thing.

His fingers are wonderful, but you know they’re no substitute for his cock. And while he has made you come so many times already, the need to have him inside of you continues to grow, settling into a dull ache in your hips.

“I need you to fuck me,” you finally breathe as the aftershocks of your latest orgasm fade back to that ache.

He lifts his head for a minute. “I intend to, but I don’t think you’re done yet.”

Your eyes widen as he seals his lips back around your clit.

“I mean, I’ve just—fuck—I’ve just had more…c-consecutive orgasms than I’ve ever had before in my life, you’re—oh my god, yes—you’re not exactly leaving me wanting—oh fuck.”

He stays silent, but it’s because his tongue is working over your clit. You, on the other hand, are in the process of undercutting your own point. A few more strokes of his tongue and you are coming again, your hips jerking hard against his mouth.

He doesn’t stop after that, either—he draws more orgasms from you, groaning into your cunt when you pull on his hair.

Your pleas for him to fuck you become increasingly desperate with every orgasm, until he finally lifts his head.

“What was it that you wanted?” he asks with a smirk that tells you he needs absolutely no clarification whatsoever.

“Fuck me, please. I need to be fucked, I need your cock,” you say. You feel restless and desperate, the ache inside you growing with every passing second.

“Oh, darling, all you needed to do was ask,” he says, his tone overly cloying.

You’re not quite so far gone that you can’t manage a scowl. “I have been asking. Repeatedly.”

He laughs and begins to undress. You suspect he’s doing this to torture you—you know he could remove his clothes in one go if he wanted to.

He peels his shirt off first and your lips part involuntarily as you take in the firm expanse of muscle of his chest and abdomen, your fingertips itching with the need to touch him. You grip the sheets instead in the vain hope that it might make a difference (it doesn’t).

But even the enticing expanse of his chest is no match for what’s to come.

He removes his trousers with achingly precise slowness. You expect him to be hard; what you’re not expecting is the primal response that it invokes in you. His cock is long, thick, and hard, the head already slick with pre-come. It’s not just for you—it’s because of you.

You swallow hard as he turns to face you fully. You’re so distracted by his cock that you almost miss the smug smirk, which he makes no attempt to hide. He knows he’s hot, he knows he has a beautiful cock, and he knows that you are absolutely aching for him. It is profoundly irritating.

He wraps his hand around his cock, wetting his lips as he casually strokes himself once. “Do you want me?” he asks with the sort of tone and expression that tells you he absolutely knows the answer.

You could yell at him. The prospect is certainly tempting. But you’re not sure that it’s worth it, not with the way your cunt is throbbing with the need to be filled with his beautiful, thick cock.

“Loki, please.” It comes out as more of a whine than you’d like, but you decide that you can live with it.

You are treated to a particularly wolfish grin before he starts stalking towards you.

There’s a large part of you that expects him to flip you over and take you from behind, rough and fast and impersonal. But instead, he climbs on top of you and draws you into a kiss. It’s deep and slow and heightened by the heavy weight of his bare cock pressing against your belly, drops of pre-come smearing against your skin.

Your back arches and your right leg snakes around his waist, trying to pull him closer, urging him to finally ease the ache inside of you. But he takes his time, kissing you slowly, running his hands over your breasts and hips, rocking his cock against you, but not inside of you.

You don’t like begging—it feels too much like offering up a vulnerability—but it becomes increasingly difficult not to give into the urge the longer he stays on top of you like this.

“Loki,” you finally say when he starts peppering sharp, sucking kisses against your throat.

“What is it, my love?” he asks with a faux confusion that you can see through right away.

“You know what I want,” you say as evenly as you can manage.

“Mmm, let me hear you say it just once more,” he says.

“Please fuck me.”

You’re expecting another negotiation, another battle of wits, but instead, he gives you a rather sharp grin and adjusts his hips so he can rub the tip of his cock up and down the length of your cunt. And then, to your surprise, he lines his cock up at your entrance and slowly begins to ease inside of you.

There’s a part of you—a large part of you—that’s surprised by how careful he is. He’s gentle, slowly pressing into you, giving you time to adjust, his movements careful. He does this all in such a way that you might not notice if you didn’t think to look—he wants you to think that he’s not doing any of what he’s doing. He wants you to think he’s not thinking of you when he is, that the care and precision of his movements are merely a pleasant coincidence. You’re not sure how you know this, but you feel certain.

He waits to kiss you until he’s pressed fully inside you, and you realize this is another illusion, another cover so you don’t realize that he’s giving you another moment to adjust to him.

It’s oddly considerate—irritatingly so. The coals of your anger still burn bright in your heart, but they flicker for just a moment.

But then he begins to move and coherent thoughts flee your mind entirely.

He feels so good. You’re not sure if it’s the soulbond itself, the dopamine and serotonin, or if he just knows the perfect way to move, but the first thrust has your toes curling and that warm heat stirring in your belly. You’ve already come so many times tonight that it feels impossible that your body should be capable of more, but you know immediately that he’s going to bring you right back over the edge if he keeps moving the way he is.

And he’s showing no signs of stopping, either.

“Norns,” he breathes, pressing a kiss against your neck, “you feel perfect. So warm and tight.”

You shiver, your cunt clenching reflexively around his slowly stroking cock. He grins and presses his lips up against your ear.

“Do you like hearing how your snug little cunt fits me like a glove?”

You would prefer to be able to lie in this particular moment—instead, your body immediately betrays you and your legs tighten around his waist as your cunt shudders around him.

You can practically feel his sharp, hungry smile as he nips at your earlobe. “I can feel how much you do,” he murmurs. A devastating swivel of his hips has you uttering a gasping whine that you are not at all proud of.

“That’s it.” He’s swiveling his hips on every other thrust now and you know the moment he switches to that exclusively, it’s all over. “You’re so close,” he purrs with confidence that annoys you just a little, even in your pre-orgasmic stupor.

But then he swivels his hips again and you shudder before you can hide it and he notices…and does it again.

And again.

Fuck.

Your orgasm starts barreling toward you at an impossibly fast pace and his eyes glitter because he knows.

“You’re going to come for me.” It’s not even a command—it’s just a statement as he rolls his hips in those devastating thrusts.

You whimper, your back arching.

“Give into it. Let me feel you.”

One more push of his cock against that sweet spot inside you and you can’t fight it any more. Your muscles tense one last time and you cry out as you come hard on his cock.

“Oh, beautiful,” he groans, his eyes closing as he fucks you through it.

It seems to last a long time, drawn out every time the head of his cock drags against that sensitive spot that sent you over the edge in the first place. He pauses briefly to bring your legs up over his shoulders, which makes his cock hit a spot even deeper inside you that feels so good it pulls a strangled sob from your throat.

Loki groans, his pace increasing, one hand falling between your legs to rub at your clit. It’s so much, but it feels better than anything. You feel another orgasm rising in your hips and you whimper.

“Good girl, fucking take it,” he slurs. You can tell that he’s getting close from the way his thrusting is becoming more frantic, how he tips his head back and grips your hips even harder.

“Come for me,” he growls. “I’m going to fill your lovely cunt with my seed. Come for me.”

Your vision whites out and your back arches as you come. If you were capable of rational thought, you would be angry that your body simply obeyed this simple directive; as it is, it’s hard for you to process anything other than how good he feels inside of you.

You can tell he’s approaching his end and he’s utterly captivating to watch. His eyes are screwed shut, brow furrowed and lips parted as he lets out a low groan that makes your toes curl.

His eyes open in the final throes and he surges forward to kiss you. He moans softly into your mouth as he comes, his whole body shuddering.

You feel dreamy and sated as he slows to a halt, lowering his head to the crook of your neck. The restless ache inside you is finally quiet—at least for now.

You expect him to roll off you and fall asleep—the portrait of a cliche. Instead, he stays with you, the warm heat of his breath ghosting over your shoulder. You can feel his cock still throbbing inside of you.

You should push him away, reclaim the distance between you. You’re angry at him, after all.

But also…it feels nice.

It’s just the endorphins, you tell yourself. It’s hormones. It doesn’t mean anything.

You can feel the lie prickling at the edges of the thought, sharp and needling, like ground glass pressing against bare skin. It means a lot of things; you just wish it didn’t.

Be angry.

His lips brush against your shoulder. More of your muscles relax. It’s nice.

Be angry.

You’re tired though. It’s been a really long day and the bed is soft and the weight of Loki on top of you is oddly reassuring.

Maybe just for tonight. Maybe just this once you’ll allow yourself to fall asleep in his bed.

“I’m still mad at you,” you say. It feels too sharp, too strident. The lady doth protest too much, methinks. He doesn’t know you, though, not really, and so you can only hope that he misses the subtle catch in your voice, that little note of uncertainty.

“I’d expect nothing less.” His voice is slightly muffled against your shoulder.

Goddammit, why does this have to be so comfortable?

He shifts slightly, easing out of you. You feel the resulting mess vanish before it even hits your thigh. At least he’s considerate.

You scowl at the thought.

“Sleep,” he says after a moment. “You’ll need your strength to rage at me in the morning.”

“I can rage at you in my sleep,” you say as your eyes slide shut.

“I’m sure you can,” he says. “Sleep.”

And despite all your complicated feelings—your anger, the inherent feeling of ease you get from his embrace, your unease with your new title, your homesickness—you find that the pull of sleep is too tempting to resist and the world slowly fades away.

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