#is it dumb to whine about fairness? yes. am i still gonna do it? yes.

[spencereid]

got waitlisted and i’m so fucking gutted :-(

[xiaoderys]

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 (𝐥.𝐣𝐧)

pairing: tutor!jeno x student!reader

warnings: smut, size kink, bulging kink, fem oral receiving, punishment(?)

word count: 2.5K

requested: yes

Jeno poked his tongue in his cheek as he smacked your test papers down on your desk. “Where did I go wrong?” he said, trying to keep his cool but you just sat there, staring at the paper marked with the big ‘F’ in front of you.

He angrily sighed and rubbed his temples “I asked you a question, y/n, don’t tell me you can’t even answer a question as simple as that” his frustration was growing by the second yet you just won’t budge because frankly, he’s done nothing wrong, he fulfilled his duties as your tutor and did his best to make sure you were prepared for your exams but you’re a teenage girl and Jeno is a well-built guy matched with an attractive face, you just couldn’t help but be distracted.

The tension between you two increased “I already said I was sorry!” you blurt out in a high pitched voice and the ever so patient Jeno finally snaps “I spent so long-“ he slams both his hands down your desk and you were now face to face with him “I spent so damn long teaching you this damn biology lesson over and over again, y/n!” he groaned and you refused to make eye contact with him, sitting back in your chair. You dared to look up at him for a quick second and you felt his eyes burning holes right through you so you went back to fumbling with your hands.

“Just give me a good reason why you fucking failed the test we spent weeks studying for” and yet again, you stayed silent and emotionless to which he scoffed “you’re wasting both our times” he gave up and stood up fully, ready to pack his things and go but you couldn’t risk losing Jeno, now out of all times since you were already failing two subjects “wait I- I was distracted okay?!” he rolled his eyes, “really, y/n?” He said with a sarcastic tone, back still facing you “yes! I- I just- I got so distracted and everything just- poof! I forgot everything I learned” you tried to explain frantically and he turned to face you again “And what was this ‘distraction’ that was so much more appealing than passing your exam?” He crossed his arms, waiting for a decent explanation “you” you gathered every bit of courage to say it out loud but you were desperate to make him stay. He arched his brow in response “me?” you nod slightly while looking down as you didn’t want him to see the blood rushing to your cheeks from your growing embarrassment.

Needless to say, Jeno was intrigued by your answer, of course he was still mad about you failing your tests but he wanted to dig deeper into this ‘distraction’ of yours, after all, it was his job to make sure your head was straight and focused on studying.

He walked back up to your desk slowly “and how exactly was I distracting you, Miss y/l/n?” he tilted his head to the side, awaiting your answer “well you’re not exactly what I expected when I was told I was getting a tutor” you murmured and he hummed “how so?” you inhaled heavily, building up the confidence to tell him why exactly he was distracting you even though you both knew he already knows the reason why “well for starters, you’re hotter than 99% of the guys I’ve ever seen in my life..and you always wear that white button up with your sleeves rolled up to your arms. You always leave a few buttons unbuttoned, just enough for people to take a peek of what’s inside yet still leave some things for the imagination...” Jeno wasn’t dumb, he saw the way you would shuffle in your seat and go red whenever he said something particularly flirty. He knows that you wear that agonizingly short skirt and pull it up to your waist so it rides just above your thighs for him. The way you would sway your hips when he’s walking right behind you. How you would ‘accidentally’ let your pen slip from your hand so you could bend down in front of him just to pick it up which was so fucking unnecessary but it got him so worked up anyways. Jeno knew it but he wanted to hear it straight from you. His face didn’t show any emotion while you talked but he was definitely amused by your honesty “And don’t even get me started with your your hands, fuck they’re so veiny and hot, I can’t count the amount of times I’ve imagined them-“ you cleared your throat, stopping yourself from embarrassing yourself any further “hmm?.. why did you stop?” you swallowed thickly “I -uh-“ “you were talking about how you’ve been imagining my hands?”“I was just talking rubbish, never mind that..” he leaned down so he was eye level with you yet again “no, tell me more, I’m your tutor, am I not? It’s only fair for me to know about these distractions so we can find a way to fix them” you tucked your hair behind your ear and you didn’t know where the sudden confidence came from but something pushed you to spit it out “I’ve always imagined them wrapped around my neck” you kept looking down, not daring to look up even for a second “is that all?” you nod and you could not have been any less prepared for what he says next “You don’t imagine my fingers inside your pussy whenever you touch yourself? You don’t imagine yourself, legs spread on my desk while I fuck you into oblivion?” you looked at him and it was like he wasn’t affected by whatever was going on “n-no, I don’t” lies.

Jeno stood up fully again, grabbing the text book from his own desk “come here” he said as he motioned for you to come over with a single wave of his finger and you stood up from your seat, walking over to him.

He grabbed your waist and lifted you up on his desk and you yelped at his sudden action. He opened the text book and of course you were curious ”what are you doing?” “you wanted to work on distractions, right? Then answer my questions while I play with you” you only stared at him with your wide eyes, scared and excited about what’s to come next.

He lowered himself and lift up your skirt "let's start with the basics: what's the powerhouse of the cell?" he asks and your eyes gleamed, you knew this one. “It’s the mi-“ you were cut off when he slowly traced the insides of your thigh “the mi- what?” he taunts, his ego building up, knowing you’re already falling apart just with a simple touch “m-mitochondria” He smiled “very good. what’s the first step in meiosis and cell division?” “Prophase one?” he slowly took off your underwear and you can already imagine how dripping wet you are but your thoughts were focused in answering his questions that you basically ignored your arousal “good girl, now what’s the difference between prokaryotic and eukaryotic cells?” you spent a few seconds rummaging your brain for the answer and your face lit up when you got it “prokaryotic cells are uni-cellular while eukaryotic cells are multi-cellular!” he pushed your legs further apart, your glistening folds now fully exposed to him “mhmm, so tell me why you got all these questions wrong in your test?” he moves closer to your core and he looks up at you, awaiting your answer “I guess I just forgot” you said as you bit your lip innocently “then we’ll have to find a way to make you remember now, don’t we?” you looked straight at him and his eyes were dark with lust. He smiled but it wasn’t his typical ‘it’s okay that you made a mistake, we can fix it’ smile, it’s the type of smile that made it look like he was gonna eat you right then and there.

He licked a strip of your slit and you started to whimper to which Jeno of course, mentally took a note of “aww is my baby sensitive?” you nod frantically and he let out his infamous low chuckle “now, recite all the stages in mitosis, angel”

He was now giving kitten licks to your sensitive bud which left your mind all fuzzy “I-interphase, prophase, telophase-“ he continued to lap up your arousal and stuck his tongue in you which earned him a high pitched whine “metaphase, anaphase!!” you quickly answered in a whiny voice. He removes his mouth off of you and replaces it with his fingers and with the first push of his middle finger inside of you, he immediately tried to find your sweet spot “you wanna try that again, pup?” he was pushing in and out of you all while continuously rubbing circles on your clit, leaving you a whiny and stuttering mess “I-I..ahhh fuck-“ a string of curses and incoherent words left your mouth and Jeno was pleased at how your body was reacting to him but you haven’t answered his question yet “I’m not gonna ask you again. What are the stages in mitosis by order?” He added another finger and curled them both inside you, causing you to arch your back but he used his other hand to hold you in place “Interphase, Prophase— shit!” His fingers were moving faster by the second and you felt like you were gonna explode “Metaphase, Anaphase... FUCK!” you were so so close “is my baby close?” you nodded with an exasperated whine “please..” a reassuring smile was plastered on his face “just one more step and I’ll let you come, angel”

your mind was filling up with nothing but bliss and Jeno’s fingers inside you but you were so desperate to come, you tried to remember everything you learned with all the energy you have left “TELOPHASE!!” tears gathered in your eyes and Jeno was left with a satisfied grin “that’s my girl” and with that he hooked your legs over his shoulders, pulling you closer to him as he ate you out. You tasted so sweet; so heavenly and Jeno swore he just found his new addiction.

He felt your tiny hands gripping his hair and he knew he was doing something right. Seeing Jeno devour your cunt was the most sinful sight yet you have no means of stopping him “Fuck, right there! Shit—ahhh!” your whines only made him prod his tongue inside your hole deeper “g-gonna come!” you squealed and he rubbed your clit while licking you up and down which finally pushed you to the edge.

Jeno cleaned you up with his tongue some more and was ready to pull away. Having only just climaxed, you were sensitive but you wanted more. You wanted him to fill you up and use you to his hearts content “c-cock..” he shot his head up to look at your fucked out expression “hmm? what was that?” he wanted to make sure his ears weren’t deceiving him “I want your cock, please” he definitely heard that one right but he was still worried because he didn’t want to push you over your limit “are you sure you can take it, baby?” you nod your head, desperate to feel him inside you, and that’s all the reassurance Jeno needed before he pushed his pants down and released his thick member.

He was massive and you started to get a little worried if you can take all of him “is it gonna fit?” Jeno cooed at how you looked genuinely worried that his cock wasn’t gonna fit into your tiny little pussy so he held the side of your face, brushing his thumb over your cheeks to wipe off the mascara dripping down so prettily and making you look like a hot mess “oh baby, we’ll make it fit.” He rubbed his length up and down, the tip angry red and leaking with pre-cum. You wanted a taste of it but that just has to wait for another time.

“Are you ready, angel?” You gave him a small nod and he slowly started to push himself in, making sure not to hurt you. “So. Fucking. Tiny.” He could barely fit half of him inside you even when your cunt was already dripping wet from earlier. He had to pull himself all the way back out and push it all the way in again for him to bottom out and you swore you almost passed out. The stretch burned but you tried your best not to move around so much.

It took you a few more thrusts until you could somewhat take all of him in your hole but you still couldn’t get used to it. “J-jeno, you’re so b-big, please slow down!” you sobbed which only drove Jeno mad “What? Am I too big for you? Your tight cunt can’t take every inch of my cock?” you could only respond with sobs and pleas but your walls clenching around him said enough and it only boosted his ego even more “isn’t this what you wanted, baby? For me to fill your tiny hole with my fat cock?” He gets rid of his white button up and looks down at your tiny figure as he fucks into you. He noticed a little bulge forming on your lower abdomen each time he went in and it drove him insane seeing your little tummy take all of him so he smirked and took your hand to guide it on your stomach, feeling his cock hit your deepest parts and poke through you “look at your tummy, angel.. You feel that? That’s the only cock this little pussy will ever need” his filthy words were riling you up even more which you didn’t think was even possible and you were now practically begging him to go faster “so needy and pretty” he chuckled, how could Jeno ever say no to his little baby? He picked up his pace, thrusting into you at an inhumane speed.

He pulled your body up and you immediately hooked your arms around him, clawing your nails at his back “God, right there Jeno, fuck!” you were holding onto him for dear life and was uncontrollably clenching around his length “so fucking tight, angel. How are you even taking my cock?” you brought one of your hands to grip the back of his head and pulled him in for a hot make out session. He was catching all your moans and whines in his mouth and soon enough, the knot in your stomach started to form again and Jeno could tell you were close by the way your grip on his hair tightened and your walls contracted so much around him that he couldn’t even move properly.

He started to rub circles on your clit to aid you in reaching your climax and your whines became so needy and loud “Come for me me, angel. I wanna feel you all over my cock” and with just those magical words, you reached your second mind-blowing orgasm of the day and he slowly lied you back down as he thrusts into you a few more times, chasing his own high, leaving you shaking and whimpering from overstimulation “I got you, baby” he reassures, moving the strands of hair covering your face to give you a soft kiss on the lips “such a pretty angel”.

[fruitcoops]

hiii i've just spent the last 36-48 hours reading your works and oh dear do i lOVE your writing and this universe :') . i dont know if you are taking requests but i think it would be kinda interesting (and low key hilarious) if you would write the lions reacting/reading thirst tweets? idk if this is a dumb idea or not but just like some of them reacting to them and going "well i'm actually gay/married so.. no!.. but thank you!"

Part two of the six-month celebration, everyone! Thank you thank you THANK YOU to everyone who submitted comments--I had over 60 come in, and while I couldn’t include them all, reading them was a true joy. The Lion Pride channel was something I started writing on a whim; I never expected it to grow like this <3 Much love to all of you!

TW for alcohol mentions and thirst tweets (nothing explicit)

“Why do I always fear for my life around you?” Sirius asked as Marlene settled into a cushy chair to the side of their table.

She smiled, catlike, and crossed her legs primly. “Because only Finn appreciates me.”

“That’s just the Aries connection, Cap,” Finn said with a smug grin.

“We’re both Leos, Harzy.”

“Eh, close enough.”

Remus raised an eyebrow at her. “You should probably start asking questions before this devolves further, Marley. He’s gonna keep digging himself a hole and we won’t get anything done.”

Marlene’s smile returned with a vengeance. “That’s where you’re wrong, Loops! We’re not doing any questions at all today.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Read it and weep.” She tossed a small posterboard at him like a frisbee; he caught it, barely, though both Talker and Sirius had to duck out of the way. Marlene faced the camera and winked. “Welcome back to Lion Pride, everyone! Today I’m here with Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James Potter, Thomas Walker, and our wonderful cubs to react to your comments on our videos!”

“Bet you thought we’d never see ‘em, huh?” James asked.

“The comments fall into four categories: thirsty, funny, mean, and sweet. I will be reading two of those groups, and my lovely fiancée will be reading the others because she is the human embodiment of sunshine.”

“If you make Dorcas read the mean ones, I’ll be sad,” Leo laughed.

Marlene gave him a look of disbelief. “You think I’m passing up a chance to roast you guys? Puh-lease. We’re starting off strong with some thirsty, thirsty comments! Loops, you’re up first.”

“This is going to be fun,” Sirius said, leaning back in his chair.

She cleared her throat, then turned a smoldering look on their table. “I didn’t know I had a freckle kink, but then Remus Lupin appeared and now here we are.”

“Oh, shit,” Remus muttered, covering his face with his hands as the others howled with laughter.

“Lupin has been looking sexy as hell on the bench for years now. I'm so glad people are simping over him like he deserves,” Marlene read. “And there’s a little heart emoji, just for you.”

“This is every one of my nightmares come to life,” Remus said, though his voice was muffled by his forearms.

James lifted his glasses to swipe away the tears of mirth that had gathered in his eyes. “Are you kidding? This is everything I have ever wanted.”

“Y’know, it is so good to see people drooling over this hot piece of ass at last,” Finn sighed, reaching over to ruffle Remus’ hair as his face turned bright red.

“One more, and it’s a good one,” Marlene warned. She licked her lips, then had to take a moment to laugh before speaking. “I feel like Remus Lupin is the type of guy to bake you muffins—”

“Accurate,” Leo said.

“—but is also a kinky motherfucker.”

Remus’ mouth dropped open as the table erupted into cheering. Logan pumped both fists in the air and Sirius was laughing so hard no sound came out; Talker sank so low in his chair that only his head and shoulders were visible as he applauded.

“Why do people comment these things?” Remus asked, barely above a whisper. “Holy fuck, I’m engaged!”

“Speaking of…” Marlene raised her eyebrows and Sirius smile drooped.

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes. Buckle up, Cap!” She rolled her shoulders out. “Get someone who looks at you the way Sirius Black looks at a hockey puck.”

Remus snorted; James’ laugh was so short and sharp that it set everyone else off as well. “That sounds like I have a hockey puck fetish!” Sirius complained. “Which is so, so not true!”

Finn made an ‘ehh’ noise, and he leaned around Remus to smack the back of his head. “Hey!”

“Next one!” Marlene announced. “Sirius Black was my bi awakening.”

A beat of silence passed. “Is that it?” Sirius ventured, looking nervous.

“Yep.”

“Aw, man, that one’s lame,” Talker said, shaking his head. “Everyone thinks Cap is a little hot.”

Remus shot him a look. “A little?”

“Fair. Marley, I dare you to find one person who wouldn’t tap that.”

She rolled her eyes. “Me, though that dovetails nicely into the last one for our lovely captain. Ahem. I understand why Remus is with Sirius: he's hot as hell and rich, I'd hit that too.”

“Oh, fuck, you’re right,” Leo gasped. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

Finn and Logan turned to him in unison with a mix of disbelief and offense written all over their faces. “Dude.”

“First of all, Leo, you found yourself two hot rich boys,” Remus interrupted. “Second, that comment is forgetting that he’s funny, and smart, and nice, and—”

Seconds after the initial cover, Sirius took his hand off Remus’ mouth as if he’d been burned. “Did you just lick me?”

“Moving on! This is in all caps, so be prepared.” Marlene shuffled through her posterboards and turned to Leo with an ominous smile. He glanced toward the camera in mild fear. “What does a person have to do to get some hockey player ass?! Like why is Leo Knut so fine?!”

“Amen!” Logan called as Leo blushed.

“According to six of the seven people at this table, the answer to that first question is to be a hockey player,” Talker laughed. “The world may never know the answer to the second, sadly.”

“Lily could play hockey,” James said, resting his chin on his hand. Every single one of the others rolled their eyes. “She could! She’d be so good at it, too.”

“We know,” Finn groaned. “You only mention it every other day.”

“Speaking of the lovely Mrs. Potter,” Marlene began with a sly look as she held up a new card. “Do James and Lily Potter need a third? Asking for me specifically.”

James paused, dumbstruck, while the others drummed their hands on the table. “…no?”

A general sigh of disappointment went up. “I was really hoping he’d say yes,” Leo said.

“Ask Lily next time,” Remus recommended.

James turned to him and blinked slowly. “What are you insinuating, Loops?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“Don’t worry, James, you’ll like this one,” Marlene assured him. “James Potter is the ultimate dilf.”

“You’re damn right I am!” James whooped. “Vindication, bitches!”

“Marley, what have you done?” Talker whispered. “He’ll never shut up about that, now.”

“Oh, never,” James all but cackled. “I’m officially a dilf, you guys!”

“I hate you,” Sirius groaned.

“Tremzy, are you ready? We’ve got a couple very special ones for you,” Marlene said.

“Anything to get us out of this hell,” Logan begged.

“In that case: Logan Tremblay’s ass is better than Sidney Crosby’s. I said what I said.”

A pleased flush rose to his cheeks as Finn and Leo high-fived over his head. “Really? Thank you!”

“And they would be correct!” Finn announced. “Best ass in the league.”

“Come on,” Remus scoffed, though he was smiling.

Marlene cleared her throat to get their attention. “I don’t think I can legally read this on air without being censored or getting the video taken down, but…”

She turned the board around; all seven of them leaned forward to read it, then slowly looked at Logan, who turned vivid red. “Mon dieu. Is that—someone commented that on a video? Like, for people to see?”

“I feel like I need to bleach my eyes,” Sirius said just as Finn began shaking with silent laughter.

Leo’s face fell. “You wrote that, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Finn wheezed, scooting forward to fist-bump Marlene. “We wanted to see what you guys would say. Fuckin’ hell, your faces.”

“Alright, Talkie, are you ready?” Marlene asked around her laughter. “Seeing Thomas Walker with a baby makes me want to have his babies…please hit me up.”

He held up his index finger and took a second to laugh before responding. “If that’s Noelle, yes. If that’s anyone else, I’m flattered, but absolutely not.”

Logan made a face. “Ew.”

“We have two more,” Marlene warned. “For some very special people that aren’t here today, but I think you’ll like them anyway.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “I don’t trust the look on your face.”

“Daddy Dumo makes me swoon.”

A muddle of horrified noises echoed through the studio as all seven of them cringed. “Oh, my god, that’s my dad!” Logan yelped, covering his ears. Sirius looked vaguely ill and Remus’ shoulders crept toward his ears; James shuddered.

“The worst part is, we all know he can get it,” Finn said with a grimace. “God, I feel like I just heard someone talking about my parents having sex.”

“I’m sure he’ll love to hear that,” Marlene laughed. “Last one, from one of our truth or drinks.”

Remus went pale half a second too late. “N—”

“Hope Lupin is a milf.”

A broken noise escaped his mouth and he clamped his hand over it while Talker rubbed his back in sympathy. Sirius shook his head. “Somehow, that’s worse than Dumo’s.”

“Whoever sent that in, show some respect!” Leo said indignantly as Remus bonked his forehead against the table. “Hope Lupin is a lovely woman!”

“I think they noticed that particular fact,” Marlene pointed out, earning herself several scandalized shouts of her name and a whine from Remus. “That’s all we have for thirst comments! Are you ready for some funny ones?”

“Anything,” Remus pleaded. “I am begging you, anything else.”

Marlene shook her head as she stood, still smiling, and kissed Dorcas on the cheek when she entered the frame. “Go for it, love.”

“Dorcas!” they all cheered, lighting up immediately.

“Hey, guys, it’s been a while!” She curled up in Marlene’s vacant spot and took her own posterboards out from underneath the seat. “Alright, let’s rock and roll. Pascal Dumais is the team dad and nothing will change my mind, and Tremzy is the annoying youngest child.”

“That is so accurate,” Sirius laughed, leaning just out of range of Logan’s playful punch. “Whoever commented that has no idea how right they are.”

“We’ve got a whole sibling dynamic thing going on,” Talker agreed. “Tremzy’s the baby of the family, Cap is the quietly chaotic middle child, and Pots is the older brother that starts shit and inevitably gets blamed for however out-of-control it gets.”

Dorcas nodded. “You are one hundred percent correct. In a similar vein: Pots was the dad jokes friend before he was even a dad.”

“Painfully so,” Leo confirmed, shaking his head as they all groaned in agreement. James looked rather smug about the whole thing. “So many puns.”

“Oh, you’ll like this one,” Dorcas mused as she drew a new card. “If Tremzy looked directly into my eyes for even two seconds, all of my problems would be solved. I am sure of it.”

“Yes,” Finn and Leo said in unison.

“It’s something about the eyes, I think,” James added. “They just stand out so much that it’s a little startling straight-on.”

Logan looked to the camera and stared at it, unblinking; it zoomed in slightly on his face. “Everything will be fine,” he said with mock solemnity. “Your problems are solved.”

“Well, that was terrifying,” Sirius said drily. “Got any more for us, Ms. Meadowes?”

“Of course I do! We’ve got quite a few for Loops and Leo.” She took a sip of her water before getting comfortable again. “My favorite thing about these videos is that we can all see Loops get steadily buffer as the season goes on. Good for you, king!”

“Flex! Flex! Flex!” the six of them chanted; Remus rolled his eyes, but slid his sweater sleeve to his elbow and flexed his forearm, resulting in enough hoots and hollers that they could probably be heard a block away. Talker fake-swooned into Leo’s arms and Remus lightly whacked him on the shoulder.

“Remus Lupin looks like he has squishable cheeks,” Dorcas read aloud.

“He does!” James cooed, scooting over and reaching out.

Remus narrowed his eyes. “I swear to god I’ll bite you.”

Sirius cupped his face between his palms and kissed his nose, then pinched both his cheeks gently. “Ta-da!”

“How many of these do we have?” Remus asked, though his voice was a bit muffled by Sirius’ hands.

“Just one more for you, and it’s my personal favorite.” Dorcas assured him. “I love how the team probably had no impulse control until Loops joined.”

Sirius let go of his face and dissolved into laughter as Finn nearly fell on the floor. “Oh my—you think he has impulse control?” Talker slapped the edge of the table as he shook his head. “Absolutely not. Hell no, Loops is the first person to do stupid shit with us.”

“Yeah, I just don’t get caught,” Remus added around his own laughter. “Everyone thinks I’m such a hardass goody-two-shoes and it lets me get away with so much more than you delinquents.”

“Speaking of delinquents,” Dorcas continued. “This one is from our ‘Taste Testing Sexy Alcohol’ video: ah, yes, now I know how to do a body shot. 10/10, very educational video.”

“Do not take educational advice from us,” Finn blurted instantly. “I know this is a joke, but please exercise caution. That video was a ton of fun but a nightmare to recover from.”

Sirius winced at the memory. “I took two naps and then wished for death for a full day.”

“On a lighter note, who’s ready for some Knutty appreciation?” Dorcas smiled at her cards. “I've only had Leo Knut for a season and half, but if anything happened to him, I would kill everyone in this room and then myself.”

“Big mood,” four of them said simultaneously.

Leo turned to the camera with a concerned look on his face. “That’s a meme reference, but are y’all okay?”

“No,” Dorcas answered. “Especially not this next person: Sometimes I do something productive and then I remember @LeoKnut is a 19 year old professional athlete who radiates happiness and with two of the hottest boyfriends the good lord has made, and then my bowl of packaged ramen seems less impressive.”

“I’m proud of your ramen,” Leo said, even as the corners of his mouth twitched in a smile. “And I appreciate the note about my boyfriends, because they are definitely the hottest people the good lord has made.”

Talker stuck his lip out in a pout. “Rude.”

“Sorry, Talkie, I’m biased.”

“Last one before Marlene comes back, so you’d better enjoy it!” Dorcas announced. “Did the Lions effectively utilize girl power when they wrecked toxic masculinity, yes or yes?”

“Can we utilize girl power?” Remus wondered, resting his shin on his hand. “Isn’t that exclusively for, y’know, women?”

“We can utilize himbo power,” Finn suggested.

James gave him an offended look. “Not all of us are himbos!”

“Okay, but you definitely are.”

“I am not!” James held up his fingers to count. “There are only, like, three qualifications, right? I might be strong, hot, and respectful, but I’m not dumb so it doesn’t count!”

“Pots,” Remus said quietly, hiding his smile for half a second. “Buddy, that was four things.”

James paused, then sighed in resignation. “Ah, fuck, I’m a himbo.”

“You really are.”

“At least we don’t promote toxic masculinity.”

They raised their waterbottles in a ‘cheers’ motion as Marlene and Dorcas switched spots; Marlene stretched her arms over her head and grabbed the new boards. “I’m back, beloved himbos. Talker, Leo, you are beloved by the people and have no mean comments. Cap, we’re starting with you.”

“Are they actually mean mean?” he asked.

“Sirius Black seems like a little bitch. Not in a bad way, necessarily. He just. Seems like he'd be a little bitch."

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Oh, okay. That answers one question.”

“He’s not a little bitch,” Leo said. “Pouty on occasion, but not a little bitch.”

Remus gave him a long look, then shook his head. “Yeah, I mean, you teared up a little when Hattie got a splinter in her paw but didn’t even yell when you almost sliced your finger off while making dinner.”

“Duality of man,” Finn said sagely.

Marlene cocked an eyebrow. “Finn O’Hara’s hair kind of reminds me of Garfield the Cat.”

“Alright, that’s just rude.”

“It does not!” Logan gasped at the same time Leo made a noise of agreement.

Finn turned to him in utter betrayal. “Nutter Butter, I thought you liked my hair!”

“I do!” Leo defended. “But they’re not entirely wrong. It’s very orange in the sun.”

“I’m never going to forget that,” Finn muttered, staring at the floor.

“Ugh, it bothers me so much that Lupin just objectifies Black all the time!” Marlene read in a high-pitched, nasal voice. “No respect in that relationship!”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Pardon?”

Marlene stared at it for a moment, then shrugged. “Yeah, I have no idea what videos they were watching. Do you feel objectified in your relationship, Cap? I know the opinion of total strangers really bothers you a lot.”

“I’m really glad you picked up on that,” he said with false gravity. “Yeah, it’s such a bummer when my hot fiancé says I look nice. Such a blow to my self-esteem.”

“That was supposed to be a roast against me,” Remus said, looking amused. “Talk about backfiring.”

“Are you ready, Pots? This one’s pretty brutal,” Marlene warned. James nodded and Finn linked their hands for moral support. “James Potter is a swiftie and you cannot tell me otherwise.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “…yeah? That’s true? T Swift is a regular occurrence on the locker room playlist.”

“Also, James Potter looks like someone who would think black pepper was spicy.”

“Now that one is mean,” he complained as the others burst out laughing.  “It’s not my fault I have sensitive taste buds!”

“Oh, honey,” she said under her breath as she took a new card. “Get ready, Tremzy. This first one is short and sweet: Logan Tremblay looks like a lesbian.”

“That is not an insult,” Logan laughed. “Every lesbian I know is rad as fuck. I wish I looked that good in a leather jacket.”

“I just realized Logan doesn’t look short cause he’s next to bunch of hockey players, he’s short cause he’s 5’9.”

The smile slipped off his face in a millisecond as the others roared with laughter. “Quoi?”

“Oh, she got you good,” Sirius gasped, patting his shoulder clumsily. “Holy fuck, can I frame that?”

“That’s not what it says.” An edge of distress appeared in Logan’s voice. “Marley, that’s not what it says.”

James sat on the floor with the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes. “You’re fucking—whoever sent that in, you are my new favorite person. Jesus.”

“Do you need a second to recover before we move on?” Dorcas asked as she draped her arms over the back of Marlene’s chair. “The next one is our biggest section by far.”

“It’s the sweet ones, yeah?” Leo asked.

“Right.”

“It might be a good idea to do those before Lo spontaneously combusts.”

“Agreed!” She swapped with Marlene and hauled a short stack of posterboards out from their hiding place with a smile. “A hug from Dumo can probably solve any issue.”

“Facts,” Logan said. “I could really use one right about now, too.”

“Has anyone noticed how blue Leo Knut’s eyes are?”

“Yes,” the six of them chorused.

Finn gave him a dreamy look. “Every single day.”

“When I first read this one, I thought I wrote it,” Dorcas said with a snort. “Someone give Marlene a raise. No reason why, I just love her.”

“Can we do that?” Sirius asked, looking toward the camera crew. “Can we lobby to give you guys raises? Because you definitely deserve it after all the bullshit you deal with to make these videos watchable, and Marlene, you’ve drawn the short end of the stick ninety percent of the time.”

“How?” she called off-screen.

“You have to actually talk to us and try to get answers.”

“Fair.”

Dorcas finished scribbling something down on her notepad. “Just making a note of this conversation for future reference. Moving on! Sirius Black and James Potter are a prime example of hockey husbands, and I adore them.”

“The ironic part of that is that we’re both in committed relationships, but we’re basically married,” James mused.

Remus shook his head. “You guys are so married. Lily wanted to get you matching rings for your birthday, Pots.”

“That would be so cool!” they said in perfect unison. Remus turned to the camera and spread his hands in a case in point motion.

Dorcas stifled her laughter before moving on. “This one is cute. Give Remus Lupin all the hugs! I feel like I could tell him he’s an inspiration and he’d be so nice about it—” She paused to glance up at them. “—this next bit is in parentheses: all the LGBT Lions give me that vibe, but Cap and Knutty are super intimidating so I wouldn’t have the guts.”

Leo’s face fell and Sirius’ eyebrows pitched. “I’m not intimidating!” Leo protested. “I thought we already went over that! Loops gives fantastic hugs, but I want some, too.”

“He definitely deserves all the hugs in the world, but I promise I’m nice,” Sirius said, a bit softer than usual. “Is it because we’re tall?”

Dorcas half-shrugged. “Probably. It’s a little startling at first. Oh, I could’ve written this one, too: The Venn diagram of men I trust and the Gryffindor Lions is a full circle.”

Talker beamed at the camera. “Thank you!”

“So many hockey guys are such douchebags,” Logan said with a shake of his head. “I’m really glad we don’t do that shit.”

“Me, too.” Dorcas slid her old card under her chair. “Sirius Black’s hair looks so soft and I just want to touch it so bad.”

“It is so soft,” Remus agreed immediately. “You have no idea.”

“Everyone wants to touch Cap’s hair,” Finn said, sighing. “It’s so majestic.”

“I need a haircut.”

“No, you don’t,” Remus said as he tugged a stray curl. Sirius hummed.

“This one is from the interview some you did with Jules and Katie: these hockey boys being so soft with kids is my aesthetic! Like, it’s just so adorable to see these big, intimidating dudes be so, so sweet! Love them all!” She turned the card for them to see. “And then they added a heart at the end.”

“It’s impossible to be around those kids and not be happy,” James said. “They’re just too cute and wonderful.”

“Yeah, I love kids.” Finn nodded. “Especially the Dumais and Jules. They’re a hoot.”

“Jules would die if he heard you say that,” Remus laughed. “The hero worship is still going strong with most of you.”

“This one made me laugh when I first read it, but it’s really sweet,” Dorcas informed them. “Anyone else feel like we were deceived these past five years into thinking Cap was this hard-ass man, when in reality he's a cuddle bug who definitely captures and releases spiders instead of squishing them?”

“You weren’t deceived, I was just closeted,” Sirius said. “Also, I absolutely squish spiders.”

Remus gave him a look. “No, you do not. That’s my job. I’m the catch and release person if I can get away with it.”

James shook his head. “The third week of practices you saw a spider and threw me at it.”

“You did what?” Finn asked.

“There was a spider in my stall,” Sirius sighed, looking as if he would rather be anywhere else. “And Pots and I were talking so I didn’t see it until I almost sat on it, and my brain decided the only logical thing to do would be to grab him and shove him toward the spider.”

“That was after you shrieked,” Talker added. “Like, literally shrieked. I’ve never heard anyone make a noise like that.”

“Alright, alright,” Sirius grumbled. “We get it, I don’t like spiders.”

Remus shrugged. “But you are a cuddle bug. They got that part right.”

“We’re in the final two!” Dorcas announced. “This one has some pictures to go with it, so it’s on my phone. Fuck Romeo and Juliet, I want what these bitches have.”

“It’s us!” Leo cooed as the phone made its way down the line. In the upper corner of the screen, the photo appeared—it had been taken in New York, and Logan’s whole face was alight with happiness as Leo and Finn each pressed a kiss to his cheek. The camera caught him mid-laugh, so his eyes were closed and his chin was tucked slightly into Finn’s Strand hoodie.

“That’s my screensaver,” Finn said with a grin, pulling his phone out and turning it toward the camera without moving away from Leo. “One of my favorites.”

“I forgot you took that one,” Logan murmured. He hooked his chin over Leo’s shoulder and kissed his cheek; the four others at the table gave soft are you seeing this? looks to the camera and Dorcas smiled.

“Pots, I think yours is next. I hate to break it to you, Talkie, but they didn’t get any of you and Noelle.”

“We don’t take a ton of pictures together,” Talker said as James took the phone. “I mean, we take a bunch of selfies, but we don’t live close enough to each other to actually post that often. What picture is it, J?”

James was staring down at the picture with an unbearably sweet expression. “It’s our wedding. That’s my favorite one, actually.”

Like Logan, they had been captured while laughing—Lily was bent slightly at the waist as James clapped, his glasses just as askew as the flower crown on her head. It was impossible to tell who had told the joke originally, but they were both radiant in the sunset.

“That’s a really good one,” Sirius said with an unreadable look on his face.

“Well, well, well, fancypants, you two got a video.” James wiggled his eyebrows and Remus leaned in to see.

“What kind of video? One of our tikt—oh. Oh, this is so cute.” He shifted his chair over as the short edit began to play. “D, who made this?”

“A fan.”

“It’s really impressive,” Sirius said without taking his eyes off the screen. The edit was a series of photos, both on and off the ice; Sirius knocking their helmets together, then Remus looking back over his shoulder, then both of them in the water playing chicken in the sun. It was a slideshow of their life and their love.

“Can you send that to me?” Remus asked when it was over. “Cause that’s super cool.”

“Sure thing. Are you guys ready for the last one?” When they all nodded, she drummed her fingers on the posterboard and cleared her throat. “Arthur appreciation hours. He deserves it after managing to control the team.”

A cheer went up—all seven stood and applauded, half-laughing and half-whooping. “Miracle worker!” Sirius called.

“Best coach in the league!” Finn added.

“Most tolerant man to ever walk the earth!” Remus raised his water in a toast and they tapped the plastic edges together, nearly spilling all over the table.

Dorcas’ eyes crinkled in a smile as she turned to the camera. “That’s it for today, Lions! Tune in next time for more content of our boys, and thank you for such wonderful comments!”

[sub-hoshi-enthusiast]

I'm getting a little off track but I'm writing this cause I had a dream about this concept and I had to write it otherwise it would haunt my mind for the rest of the day 😔

⚠️Warnings⚠️: sub!hyunjin, sub!minho, gn!dom!reader, bratty minho, oral (m recieving), overstimulation, pet play, master kink, degradation, bondage

Breaking the Rules

You loved your boyfriend Minho, you really did, but there were sometimes he just really got on your nerves. This was definitely one of those times. You had to leave for about a week for a business trip and had given your boyfriends Minho and Hyunjin one rule; don't play with each other while you're gone. You weren't worried about Hyunjin, your sweet puppy would always follow the rules. No, Hyunjin wasn't the problem but you knew before you even left his embrace that Minho would cause trouble by the time you got back.

The week flew by very quickly and you were excited to be able to see your favorite boys again. A part of you was still worried Minho might've done something but Hyunjin only ever called you to tell you how much they missed you and loved you. Maybe a miracle had occurred and Minho actually followed the rules you had set this time. The second you entered the house, however, you felt like you were giving him too much credit.

Whenever you were gone for more than a day, Hyunjin would leap into your arms as soon as you opened the door to shower you with kisses and ramble on and on about what had happened while you were away. When you walked through the door you were met with silence. An annoyed sigh fell from your lips and you knew Minho had something to do with this. All of a sudden an all too familiar scream broke the silence. You left your suitcase at the front door and walked back to your bedroom in a huff. You honestly weren't surprised by the sight you saw as you stood at the door.

Hyunjin let out another cry as he struggled against the restraints that kept his wrists to the headboard. He was completely naked, save for his plug with a tail and a headband with puppy ears that had become lopsided from how much he was thrashing around. As your eyes trailed further down the bed you found the culprit. Minho was also wearing his tail plug with a cat ear headband as he swallowed around the younger boy's length. You noticed a few drops of cum on the sheets and around his mouth, so you could guess that this had been going on for a while. Hyunjin's head jerked over to where you were and he opened his eyes that were brimming with tears.

"M-master! P-please master- he- ngh- he tricked me!" He whined trying to kick his legs but Minho's grip stopped him. The other boy's eyes flickered over to you for a split second but he still continued his assault on the other boy's cock. You scoffed before stomping over to the end of the bed, gripping Minho's hair and yanking him away from Hyunjin. The little brat took a second to catch his breath before smirking up at you.

"Welcome home master~" He teased, licking his lips as he made eye contact with you. You rolled your eyes at him as you threw him to the floor. You looked up at Hyunjin, sitting next to him and brushing your fingers through his long black locks.

"It's alright puppy, master's here now. You wanna tell me what happened sweet boy?" Hyunjin sniffled, looking up at you with sparkling eyes you could never get mad at.

"M-Minho told me that you'd be home soon and s-said we should do something special for you, s-so he put on our ears and tails so we'd be all pretty when you got back. A-and I remembered how much you like seeing me all tied up for you so I-I let him cuff me to the headboard but-but then he started touching me and I couldn't stop him." You heard your other boyfriend scoff from behind you.

"I asked you multiple times if you wanted me to stop but you kept begging me to keep going." Hyunjin whimpered, turning his head away from you.

"Is that true puppy?" Hyunjin bit down on his plump bottom lip before looking up at you again.

"Y-yes master. I'm sorry, I was being a dumb puppy and thinking with my dick. I'll make it up to you however you want me to." You smiled, giving him a kiss of the forehead.

"It's alright puppy. You were honest so master will forgive you this time."

"What?! How is that fair! I tell the truth and I get punished anyway!" Minho huffed from behind you. You snapped your head over to him, giving him a glare.

"That's because you have no brain and only think with your pathetic little cock." He rolled his eyes but you didn't miss the way his cock jumped at your degrading words. You snapped your fingers, signaling Minho to sit next to the bed as you uncuffed Hyunjin. You pressed a few kisses to his wrists that had grown red when Minho had made it over to where you were. You sent a stern gaze to the boy on the floor as you and handed the cuffs to Hyunjin so he could step behind Minho and restrict his hands. You took the time to situate yourself back against the headboard.

"Here's what's gonna happen," you started, ignoring Minho's complaints as the other knelt between your legs, "Hyunjin's going to use his mouth to get me off, while you sit there and watch." A sound of disbelief flew past Minho's lips as he looked up at you. "Shut it before I bring out the gag." That one sentence was all it took to silence him.

"Am I allowed to grind into the mattress?" Hyunjin asked after moving so his head was between your thighs. You smiled as you scratched behind one of the dog ears on top of his head.

"Of course you can puppy." You had a feeling the night would still go on after this. Minho did always have his way with words, and you always ended up giving into him eventually. Oh well, only time would tell.

[anastasiyaigorevnadobrodevskaya]

Wager - Roope Hintz

A/N: Guess who was talking and came up with this idea? Yes, we did @nhlandotherimagines​. Goth Barbie is still in progress do not worry!

Word count: 1175

I pout for about the 30th time in the last hour. I sit comfortably on the couch with Roope’s head placed in my lap. The tips of my fingers brush the sides of his face, tracing the outlines of his facial hair. I scowl at the abomination above his upper lip.

“Stop frowning or you’ll get wrinkles.“ He mumbles with his eyes trained on the TV.

I scoff, not taking my eyes off of his beautiful face. “There are worse things than that. For example this thing.” I tap his mustache.

“Babe I know you don’t like it and neither do I, but I have told you. I lost a bet and now I have this.“ He gestures with his hand towards his face, shrugging his shoulders.

“A really dumb bet, might I add.” I scold him again for the stupid wager he took up. 

“It’s you who’s dating a dummy.“ Moving his shoulders once again, he grins, biting his lip in the process.

Sighing loudly, I keep on complaining. “I get the haircut. As much as I miss the pig tails I get it, but why the hell this barbarism?”

At that he laughs with his entire body, making a smile stretch on my lips. “Barbarism? Babe, it’s just a mustache.” He shakes his head and looks up at me. “Just one month and then it’s gone. I promise.” He turns his head and kisses my palm, his blue eyes pleading with me.

“You better.“ I mutter bitterly, to which he only chuckles again.

//

I turn around reaching for the warm body with my eyes closed, only to be met with a cold and empty side of the bed. I groan into the white pillow, pouring my entire heart into the sound leaving my throat.

“Oh, you're up.“ A deep voice states. I make grabby hands towards the source of the sound not moving any extra inch. The bed dips and his arms engulf me.

“Where were you?“ I ask, placing my head on his chest. One of my hands reaches up to caress his face when my skin makes contact with something it shouldn’t. My eyes snap open and I lift my head from his chest. “Roopeli.” I whine at the sight of his mustache. “It’s been a month.” I pout, giving him my best puppy dog eyes.

“I was waiting for you to wake up.“ He says, a small smile playing at his lips.

“Why?“ I furrow my brows in confusion.

“So you could shave me.“ He states. “Please.“ The word comes out unsure, as if worried he has overstepped.

“Yeah, okay.“ I say softly with big eyes, in complete awe at his request.

Taking my hands, he slowly stands up making me follow his actions. He leads me to the bathroom and lets go of me, only to step towards the cabinets and begin his search for his razor. Meanwhile I take a seat on the edge of the bathtub, watching him with complete and utter love.

He fishes out the razor and some shaving foam, and turns to face me. Motioning for me to come closer, I take a couple of steps to stand right in front of his beautiful face. Putting the accessories on the counter, he then leans down place a soft kiss on my forehead. Grabbing my hips, he lifts me up, placing me onto the counter. Stepping between my thighs, he places both of his big palms on each side of my body.

“Are you ready?” He asks, leaning in. I nod my head with a smile, which he gladly returns with one of his own. He places another kiss to my cheek and then hands me the bottle of foam. I spray it onto my hands and then spread over his cheeks. I lock my legs behind his back and give Roope an innocent look to which he merely raises his light eyebrows.

“Would you spray some more onto my hands?” I ask, my palms facing up. He chuckles and does just as I ask. He even adds a small dot on my nose, at that I jerk backwards, letting out a displeased squeal. He lets out a chuckle at my ridiculous antics, to which I let a huge grin spread on my lips.

“Don’t forget I am the one with the razor here.“ I tell him as I cover his terrible mustache with foam.

“Would you purposefully cut me babe?“ He asks, feigning hurt.

“Of course not, but it’s a fair warning.“ I say. “Just in case you know?“

He shakes his head and I turn to wash the extra foam off of my hands. After drying my hands off on a fluffy blue towel I grab the razor, inspecting it.

“Don’t stress about it. If you cut me, it won’t be the first time I got cut while shaving.“ His large fingers caress the side of my face. I look up staring deeply into his bright blue eyes.

“I don’t want to cut that pretty face of yours, though.“ I sigh, running a hand through his short blonde hair.

“You won’t. I am sure you’re gonna do great. I trust you.“ He smiles, looking incredibly ridiculous with his face covered in light blue foam.

“Okay.“ Taking a deep breath I raise my hand to his face. Placing the razor to his skin, I slowly drag it down. Seeing I have done no damage I smile and turn to wash the razor, going for another stripe. I spend extra care at getting rid of his mustache, not wanting to get his pink lips busted.

It’s when I am almost done do I scratch his chin with the blade. Cringing immediately at the painful grimace he tries to hide.

“Oh my, I am so sorry.“ I exclaim loudly, covering my mouth with my hands. “Oh shit. I am really sorry. Fuck.”

“Kulta, it’s okay.“ He gets a hold of my wrists, successfully stopping my panicked ramble. His thumbs rub the skin of my wrists, calming me down. “Want to finish it or should I?” He asks gently.

“I don’t know.“

“Come here.“ Still holding my hands he drags me to the edge and I jump down. He turns me around wrapping his palm around the hand that still holds his razor. “Let’s finish this together, okay?“ He asks, staring into my eyes through the mirror. I nod weakly. He uses his free hand to boop my nose and get some foam on his finger too. He then boops his nose, just to make me giggle. And I do, letting him use my hand to shave himself.

After he’s done, he washes his face while I search for a disinfect to tend to his wound I have caused. I dab his chin gently, then turn to hand him his aftershave.

“Not too bad for a first timer babe.“ He says, kissing my cheek.

“Please, I literally cut you.“ I scoff at his praise.

“Worth it.“ He shrugs with that dorky smile of his adoring his face.

//

Translation:

Kulta - honey/babe (literally gold)

[kuroopaisen]

after hours || kuroo tetsurou

➵ a late night study session might just end with kuroo having a heart attack over how stupidly cute you are. 

wc: 3.1k

warnings: f!reader, i guess it’s implied she’s short?, kuroo’s Dumb, i can’t stop thinking about the in-between someone get my own story out of my head please

a/n: hi i wrote this on a whim and for some reason it’s 3k i’m gonna yartz,,, kuroo brainrot let’s go! but thank you ren for beta’ing it yet again :( 

the in-between m.list

“But I’m tired,” you whine, plopping your face cheek-first onto your textbook.

“We’re all tired,” Kuroo goads, shaking his head. “Come on. The more we do now, the less we have to worry about later.”

“I know,” you whine. “You don’t need to keep reminding me.”

“I wouldn’t have to remind you if you just did your work,” he grins. “We know for a fact that leaving things to the last minute makes you really stressed.”

“Maybe I work best under pressure,” you mumble. “Ever considered that?”

“I have,” he smiles. “Now you tell me: is it worth the nervous breakdown?”

“You’re cruel and I hate you.”

“We both know that’s not true.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” you mutter.

“I think someone’s trying to procrastinate,” he chuckles, reaching over to ruffle your hair.

“It’s late,” you groan. “I’m tired.”

“You’ve made that very clear,” he grins.

You lift your head off the textbook, glare-pouting at him. Your attempts to look intimidating rarely succeed, and this is no exception. 

Kuroo can’t hold back his fond smile.

You look exhausted.

Your eyes are a little blearier than usual, shot through with red. Your hair’s a bit of a mess – not that you’ve really made an effort with it anyway – and you’ve got that dull pallor that seems to befall everyone deficient of adequate sleep.

Maybe ten forty-six in the evening was a bit late to be starting homework. And unfortunately for you, the focus for this evening is maths and chemistry.

Of course, Kuroo’s adamant that he tried to get started earlier.

(He didn’t think that the two of you would end up wasting so much of the afternoon just watching Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, but when he’d checked the time, he’d tried to move onto studying.

You, on the other hand, had other ideas.

“Just one more episode.”

“No,” he shook his head. “We’ve got work to do.”

“But we can’t stop here,” you whined. “I wanna know what happens.”

“We’ve got to study,” he’d replied, firm and strict and resolute.

But when you’d grabbed his arm and pouted up at him, saying “Please, Tetsu?”, his resolve toppled in on itself like a poorly constructed engineering assignment made of straws.)

“Hey,” he sighs, patting you on the back. “Let’s just try to get this chapter done tonight, okay? That’s all.”

“Okay,” you mumble.

He knows it’s a bit unfair; the chapter in question is a rather long one, with far more activities in it than the average. But he trusts you to understand what needs to be done – he wouldn’t be putting you through this if it wasn’t so relevant.

He wants you to succeed. He really does. And you both know just how hard he’s been working to help you get to where you need to be.

Time and time again, you apologise for taking up so much of his time, for asking so much of him. He always smiles, saying that it’s actually good practice for him, too – and, of course, you’re managing the volleyball team.

He insists it’s a two-way street.

Not that it matters. He knows that he’d still do this for you, even if he gets nothing out of it.

He finds it too hard to say no to you, after all.

Kuroo jumps as a solid three-rap knock rattles his door.

“Are you still up, Tetsu dear?” His grandmother’s voice sounds far too amused for his liking.

“Uh, yeah,” he swallows, getting out of his chair and opening the door.

His grandmother stands in front of him, dressed in her purple silk pyjamas.

(They’re a recent birthday present that you’d chipped in a bit of money for, even though Kuroo had told you it was fine – you didn’t need to.

You’d just smiled and told him that you wanted to say a little thank you for how kind she’d been to you.

He remembers that his heart skipped a little at your smile.)

“Goodness, Tetsu, I keep forgetting just how tall you are,” his grandmother chuckles, craning her neck to get a good look at his face.

“Maybe you’re just shrinking,” Kuroo grins.

“Don’t even joke about that, my boy,” she laughs, shaking her head. “That’s a very real possibility at my age.”

She pokes her head through the doorway, catching sight of you slouched in your chair.

“You look exhausted, dear,” she smiles, tilting her head at you.

“I am,” you whine, stretching your arms over the desk. “Your grandson is a tyrant.”

“Perhaps you and Kenma should stage a coup,” she suggests, eyes twinkling. “Dethrone this despot king and free yourselves from his incessant nagging.”

“I don’t nag!”

“Oh, is that so?” her smile widens. “‘Oh, don’t forget to drink this whole bottle, Obaa-chan. It’s important to keep your fluids up – especially at your age,’” she coos, dropping her voice an octave or so in her best attempt to replicate Kuroo’s tone. “‘Oh, Obaa-chan, come take a walk with me! You’ve been sitting in front of the TV too long. Let’s get those old bones moving.’”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Kuroo grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck, “we get the picture.”

“‘Obaa-chan! You shouldn’t be up this late! You don’t wanna wear yourself out!’” She continues, cracking a grin.

“Okay, okay!” Kuroo grouches, a sour look on his face. “Point taken!”

“I’m just teasing,” she grins. “Goodnight, Tetsu. And goodnight, dear! Don’t let him boss you around!”

“Yes ma’am!” You bark cheerfully.

She chuckles, shaking her head. But she says nothing more, ambling out the door.

Kuroo sighs.

If anything, he’s just glad she didn’t poke fun at him for having a girl in his room. Though he’s well-aware he should be grateful for the fact that he's trusted enough to not have his family snooping on him every five minutes.

Besides, being alone together in a room doesn’t mean anything. Even if…

He swallows roughly, forcing his mind to go blank.

No space for unsavoury thoughts here. None at all.

He shuts the door with a firm slam, turning back to you with his best poker face.

“So,” he hums, ambling back over to you and glancing at the textbook laid out on the desk. “What do you want to focus on?”

“Well, I think it’s time for us to talk about Pride’s true identity—”

Kuroo tsks, shaking his head. “We’ve had enough Brotherhood for one evening.”

You whine, slouching back in your chair. “Just one more episode?”

“No,” he laughs. “If we keep putting this off, we’re just going to have more to stress about later.”

“Fine,” you sigh, sticking your tongue out at him. “You’re no fun.”

“I’m starting to think hiring you on as manager was a mistake,” he grins.

“Excuse me?” You gasp, affronted.

“You’re supposed to be responsible,” he chuckles. “You know – able to make good choices and all that.”

“I do make good choices,” you glare at him. “I just hate any and everything to do with maths.”

Kuroo snorts. To be fair, he’s had the sneaking suspicion that you might be much better at chemistry if it didn’t involve so much mathematics.

“Besides,” you huff, crossing your arms, “the first years would riot.”

“You mean Lev would riot.”

“I’m sure Inuoka would stick up for me,” you say. “And you don’t want to make Shibayama sad, do you?”

“I didn’t say anything about kicking you out,” Kuroo grins, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I know,” you hum. “Just making sure you’re aware.”

Kuroo rolls his eyes playfully, flicking your forehead. “Whatever.”

The two of you settle down after that, returning to your blasted enemy.

You do fairly well, all things considered. Your focus is a bit off, but you make a good effort. And, like always, you manage to understand Kuroo’s layman explanations of things.

Of course, the two of you can’t help yourself – your study is punctuated by straying conversations that last a little longer than they should (Kuroo’s a big believer in the fifteen-five-fifteen study method, but sometimes there’s simply too much to say; a mere five minutes doesn’t cover it). Sometimes you simply demand to see Inu-chan, not budging until you’d given the Akita a good pat.

But tonight, even Kuroo tires quickly. He figures it’s probably because you started so late; something he promises himself he’ll never let happen again. Although, he’s not willing to bet money on it.

“Alright, I’m gonna go get a drink,” he sighs, stretching his arms above his head as he stands up. His interlaced fingers almost brush the ceiling. “Did you want anything?”

“I’m okay, thanks,” you sigh, putting your pencil down.

You’ve got that look on your face. The one you get when you’re faced with a particularly confusing equation or a concept you need a bit of time to wrap your head around. Kuroo knows it well; it’s usually soon followed by a quiet confession of worry and doubt.

“Hey,” he murmurs, reaching out a hand and ruffling your hair gently. “You’re doing better than you think you are.”

He wishes he could do more for you, wishes he could kick those awful feelings out of your brain. But there’s not much more he can do than this.  

You look up at him with wide eyes. Your features look so gentle in the light of his desk lamp, the shadows soft and diffused. You look fond.

Kuroo tries to ignore it.

“You think so?” You pout.        

“Would I lie?” He chuckles.

You peer at him closely for a moment, leaning close.

Too close.

Close enough for him to make out the intricacies of your eye colour. Close enough that he’s sure you can feel just how hot his face has become. Close enough for his mind to wander to a place it really shouldn’t.

He stands up sharply before he’s even processed what’s going on.

“I’m, uh…” He clears his throat roughly, scratching the back of his neck with one hand. “I’m gonna go get some water.”

“Okay!” You nod, smiling sweetly at him.

He doesn’t let himself linger, rushing off to the kitchen and pouring himself a tall glass of water.

He gulps the whole thing down at breakneck speed. His punishment for such hastiness is a hiccup that lurches his whole chest. Well, at least it shifted whatever weird feeling was there before.

What time is it?

He turns to the clock on the kitchen wall.

His eyes blow wide.

Twelve thirty-six. Oh, shit. He ponders, for a moment, if the clock is a few hours fast.

With a little nugget of guilt in his chest, he rushes back upstairs to his bedroom.

He opens the door slowly, not wanting to disturb the house. He slips through just as quietly, turning to say something to you.

You're lying on the desk again. But this time, your head is laid on crossed arms, your back rising and falling gently with each breath.

Kuroo’s heart feels like it might damn well shatter.

His first instinct is to pick you up and put you on his bed.

His first coherent thought is ‘what the fuck, dude?’.

He slinks towards you and places a gentle hand on your shoulder. He flushes at the contact.

What are you, twelve? He chastises himself. You’ve touched each other plenty of times before.

He immediately regrets that phrasing.

“Hey,” he murmurs, shaking your shoulder slightly. “Wake up.”

You’re motionless.

“Hey,” Kuroo whines.

“Hm?” You croak, stirring a little.

Kuroo draws back.

You lift your head and blink at him through bleary eyes.

Holy shit, he thinks. Holy fucking shit.

“It’s past midnight,” he says, ruffling your hair on instinct. Why he made the effort to yet again make physical contact with you, he doesn’t know. It’s a terrible idea, really.

“Ew,” you frown. “No.”

Kuroo shoves both his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. There’s no risk of him doing something stupid if he does that, right?

You’re staring at your phone, your eyebrows drawn together and your lips pursed.

He knows that look.

It’s the one you always pull when he (reluctantly) calls an end to whatever you’re doing before walking you home in the evening. And he doesn’t miss how you stick a little closer to him when it’s dark, or how you always seem to glance over your shoulder at each and every peculiar sound. And he certainly doesn’t miss how you ask him to text you to let you know he’s gotten home safe.  

You don’t need to tell him that you don’t want to walk all that way in the dark.

“Do you just want to stay here tonight?” He asks. He loathes himself for the weird fuzziness that churns in his gut.

You pout at him. He’s seen that face enough times to know that it means ‘please.’

“Wait here,” he smiles.

He hurries to the laundry area, rifling through his grandmother’s pile of clean clothing. There’s no way he’s going to let you sleep in your school uniform; it can’t be comfortable, and the fabric doesn’t seem breathable.

He goes through the pile once. Twice. Three times.

Nothing. There’s nothing he can lend you for the evening.

“Shit,” he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. Surely there must be—

Oh no. Oh no.

He catches sight of a plain black shirt sitting atop his pile of clean clothes. His face suddenly feels very, very hot.

It’s fine, he thinks. It’s not a big deal. My heart is not racing at the thought of her wearing one of my clothes. It’s not.

He grabs the shirt with a certain boyish carelessness, as if to prove to himself that he’s not losing his mind.

Sure, the blurry image of you wearing one of his shirts keeps trying to barge its way to the forefront of his mind, but it’s fine. It’s fine. It’s just a teenage boy thing.

He stalks back to his room with the whisper of a scowl on his face. Man, he needs to go to sleep.

As he opens the door, he catches sight of you mid-stretch. Your face is screwed up like a cat’s, nose scrunched up and eyes screwed shut.

But you’re cute. How is that cute? Why is that expression so endearing?

I’m delirious, he surmises. Probably because it’s so late.

He holds the shirt out to you with a stiff arm. “Here.”

Would you find it weird, him giving you one of his own shirts to sleep in? Would you think he’s being creepy?

You just nod as you take it from him, holding it to your chest with two hands like it’s a blanket.

Ah. So he’s overthinking it. Like an idiot.

“Did you let your family know?” He asks, trying to distract himself from his own fraying thoughts.

You nod. “I called them.”

“And they’re… fine with it?” His eyes widen slightly. Their daughter, staying over a night at a boy’s house…

“They were more angry at me for waking them up,” you pout. “But they didn’t have any problems with it.”

Kuroo’s heart swells. He’s trusted – your parents don’t mind this little arrangement. He’s not quite sure why he’s so proud, but he lets himself bask in it.

“Hey, Tetsu?”

“Hm?”

“Could I please have some water?” You mumble, rubbing one of your eyes with your knuckles.

He dashes out of the room a little quicker than he usually would – almost like his body had moved on instinct to fulfil your request.

By the time he gets back to his room, you’ve finished changing.

Kuroo’s certain he’s going to explode.

His shirt is so big on you – it’s already a bit roomy on him – grazing your lower thighs and giving him the overwhelming desire to wrap his arms around you. Your eyes are half-lidded, your cheeks puffed out a little, your hair all messy and unkempt. You look so sleepy, so cute, so—

He thrusts the glass of water towards you, cringing as the liquid sloshes dangerously close to the lip of the cup.

“Thank you,” you smile, your face lighting up as you take it from you.

Kuroo doesn’t fail to notice how your fingers brush against his as you do so.

God, he really needs to get some sleep.

“You stay in here,” he swallows, gesturing to his room.

You blink at him for a moment before realising what he means. “Wait, really?”

He nods. “I’ll just sleep on the couch.”

“No—” You’re pouting at him, misplaced guilt shining in your eyes.

“It’s fine,” Kuroo grins, ruffling your hair on reflex. He swears he zaps his fingers. “Now, you get some sleep.

“Fine,” you mumble, glare-pouting at him. “But you’ll… you’ll pay for this.”

“Will I now?” His grin broadens.

“I will,” you nod, comically resolute. “Wait, no—no, you will.”

Kuroo laughs, ruffling your hair again and reaching to—

Woah. Woah.

Where’d this sudden urge to kiss you on the forehead come from? That’s… weird.

He draws his hand back quickly. He can’t risk doing anything stupid.

“Now sleep,” he tuts, pointing you to the bed. “But don’t forget to drink your water.”

“I know,” you huff, turning around and scuttling towards the bed.

Kuroo turns around sharply, making a beeline for the door. If seeing you in his shirt was enough to make his brain go haywire, then seeing you in his bed…

He’s pretty sure he throws you a ‘good night’ before pulling the door to his room firmly shut, but he can’t be certain. He’s too busy taking a deep breath, trying to filter all the unsavoury and alarming thoughts out of his brain.

You’re his friend. He’s not supposed to want to kiss you on the forehead, to hold you in his arms. Hell, you’d probably think it was weird enough that he finds you so damn cute. And God, the thought of making you uncomfortable…

The guilt roots itself deep as he grabs himself some blankets and pillows from the laundry cupboard, dragging himself towards the couch.

He throws himself onto it face first, trying to ignore the burn running through his body. It feels like he’s on fire – and that pouty, sleepy expression of yours is scorched on the back of his eyelids.

This is normal, he reasons. He’s just a normal, hormonal teenager who likes girls. And you, a dear and beloved friend, just so happens to be a girl. This is unfortunate, but it’s fine. It doesn’t mean anything more. Right?

You’re just friends. Nothing weird going on here.

Besides, it’s not his fault. Anyone would’ve been endeared by what he’d seen tonight.

You’re just too damn cute.

Right?

[enbyprentiss]

Little brat

Genre: Smut, pure filth, zero plot

Pairing: Hotch x Reid

Warnings: Sub!Spencer, Dom!Hotch, Spencer in panties and makeup, bratty Spence, spanking, penetrative sex, degradation, daddy kink, some praise, slight aftercare, oral (male receiving obviously), face fucking, and I think that’s it but lmk if I missed anything!

(and no @sparklinspence, if you’re reading this, i REFUSE to incorporate Hotch’s supposed foot fetish)

Also, Hayley does not exist in this story because that woman deserved so much better. And instead, she got murdered. Yes, I am still salty about it and no, I will never forgive the writers for that.

--

Spencer liked being a good boy. He lived to please. However, he loved being a brat even more. He always looked forward to things that were supposed to be punishments. He liked Hotch to yell at him. Tell him what a dirty boy he is. He liked being fucked like a bitch. So, he planned on being the biggest brat today. 

It started when Aaron called him in for a case. And instead of telling him that he’d be there within 20 minutes like he usually did, “What if I don’t?”

“Spencer...”, he warned. 

“What? What are you going to do?”, he always knew just how to push Aaron’s buttons. 

“If you don’t, I’ll have no choice but to terminate you.”

“You would never.”, and even though he couldn’t see Spencer, he still had a smug look on his face. 

“I better see you in the next 30 minutes.”

Reid huffed, crossing his arms and hanging up the phone. He reluctantly pulled himself out of bed, putting on the pair of panties he knew drove Aaron crazy and quite possibly the tightest pants he owns so that Hotch would be the only one who would recognize the outline.

When he arrived at the office, his eyes flicked straight up to Hotch’s office. And god, just looking at him made his pants become just a little tighter. He had to strategically pull his satchel closer to his body, quickly seating himself and tucking his legs completely under the round table. Spencer purposely made sure that the seat next to him would be empty. And, of course, Aaron took the opportunity to sit next to his young lover. At first, it was just a sweet gesture that wouldn’t expose their relationship to the rest of the team. The problem only arose when Reid placed his hand on the older mans thigh while JJ presented the local case. As his hand traveled farther up slowly, Hotch could simply not wrap his head around how Spencer was possibly this turned on at 10:00 AM. Regardless, he knew Spencer’s little game and grabbed his wrist, wrapping his much larger hand around it as a subtle warning. He watched as his face turned a light shade of pink, and he obeyed for now. But not for long.

The team spilt up, half of them in the field and half of them staying back to work from the bullpen, which left Aaron and Spencer alone in an SUV. Spencer took this opportunity to act up further, he leaned over the console, kissing Aaron’s neck gently before moving to open mouthed kisses. He would’ve left it at that if it wasn’t for the apparent bulge in Aaron’s pants. He rubbed him over his slacks the best he could before Hotch broke his trance. 

“What has gotten into you today, Spencer?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”, he shrugged and smiled in faux innocence. 

“Oh, so you want to be a filthy little brat today? We’ll have to fix that later.”

Spencer didn’t respond, just squirmed in his seat, fantasizing about all the possibilities of what awaited him. And luckily for him, the case was solved pretty quickly. The unsub stabbed random people repeatedly on the street, the only thing is he did every 27 minutes on the dot and was extremely sloppy, making his fairly easy to catch. Though, Spencer still managed to slip in some more trouble-making behavior. When they weren’t actively trying to put the profile together, he spent time flirting with both the male and female officers but only when he knew when Aaron was watching. Of course, Aaron noticed and it only made his blood boil more. 

When they got back to the BAU, he pulled Reid into his office, demanding that he follow him to his apartment. And he obviously wasn’t going to deny, this was what he wanted all day. 

--

As soon as they burst through to the door to Aaron’s apartment, their lips met in a heated kiss. Spencer licked against Aaron’s bottom lip, but he quickly gained dominance over the kiss. He moved to kiss down the younger mans jaw and the exposed parts of his neck, making Reid whimper.

“Such a desperate little slut. Go to the bedroom and strip. And you better not be touching yourself when I get in there.”

Spencer nodded, now ready to obey every word that was said to him. He stripped of all of his clothing, leaving them in a crumpled pile as he rushed to sit on the bed. Aaron waltzed around his apartment for roughly 10 minutes just to tease his lover, and he only entered the bedroom when he could hear him audibly whining. He pulled the frail figured man over his lap silently, palming over his ass gently. 

“Do you know why you’re being punished, baby?”

“No, daddy.”, Spencer shook his head the best he could with a small pout on his face. 

Aaron landed a harsh smack across Spencer’s ass, “Really? Because I think this is exactly what you wanted. Teasing me all day, wearing this pretty pink little panties. You’re just so desperate for my cock, aren’t you?”, he landed another hard smack.

“Mmhf! Yes, daddy!”

“Count for me. And that’s the only thing I want to hear from you, since you were such a bad boy today.”

Spencer whined anyway, which only earned him more spankings, each harder than the last. Eventually, he had counted all the way up to 25 with tears in his eyes and a few slipping down his cheeks. Aaron helped him sit back up, wiping some of the mascara stained tears away.

“T-thank you, daddy.”, he sniffled.

“Oh, sweetheart, you really think I’m done with you. Get on your knees.”

Spencer scrambled to get in position in eagerness. He rubbed up the older mans thighs, and he expected to be pushed away since he didn’t ask for permission, but instead Aaron was focused on ridding of his pants.

“Since you want my cock so bad, you’re gonna let daddy fuck your face, ok?”

He muttered a small ‘Mhm’ while nodding his head with an excited smile. Aaron lifted his hips into Spencer’s awaiting mouth, immediately hitting the back of his throat and making him gag. But Spencer relished in every action Hotch made, pushing his head down by his light brown curls and then pulling him back up so he could focus on just the tip, swirling his tongue around and over his slit. 

“You love this don’t you, brat?”, Hotch groaned as Spencer’s throat tightened around him and he moaned around the cock in his mouth, confirming Aaron’s suspicions wordlessly. He continued pushing the younger mans head down roughly, watching more tears fall down his cheeks and watching how perfectly his plush pink lips wrapped around his tip. As Spencer licked down the prominent vein on the underside of Aaron’s cock, he felt the warm white liquid shoot down his throat, gladly swallowing all of it.

“Let me see.”, Hotch demanded. Spencer opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue slightly, revealing that he truly did swallow all of his lovers cum, “Good boy.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up at the praise as he bounced on his knees slightly, “Fuck me now, daddy?”

The dark haired man sat in front of him, acting as if he was pondering the idea, “Fine, get on the bed. Hands and knees.”

He moved frantically to get in position as Aaron retrieved the lube from his not-so-hidden drawer. He kissed down Spencer’s spine while applying a generous amount of the substance to his fingers. He continued planting soft kisses wherever he could reach, slowly pushing one finger into Spencer, making him yelp.

“Oh, daddy!”, Aaron took that as a good sign, pushing another finger into him, scissoring them to stretch his boy further. 

“W-want your cock instead, daddy.”, he whined. 

“I don’t know. Can you take it?”

“Yes! Let me show you, daddy, please!”

“Ok, baby, give daddy one second.”, he answered, applying a fair amount of lube to his cock.

Aaron put both his hands around Spencer’s petite waist, pushing into him slowly, making his sub moan out shamelessly. He hadn’t even pushed fully in as Spencer began to squirm and arch his back. 

“Mm, so big, daddy!”

“Oh, come on, baby. I know you can take it.”

Spencer’s hands balled up in the sheets, scrunching up his face while simultaneously begging Hotch for more. Eventually, he had pushed all the way into Spencer, setting a ruthless pace knowing he liked it rougher. 

Spencer’s moans quickly devolved into little ‘Thank you, daddy’, and mindless babbling. 

“Aw, look at you, baby. I fucked my little genius dumb.”, he groaned. He reached around to stroke Spencer’s cock, knowing that he wouldn’t last much longer. 

“Fills me so good, daddy!”

“I know, baby. So tight and warm for daddy. Such a good boy.”

“Oh, oh, oh! Can I cum please, daddy?!”

“Go ahead, sweet boy, cum all over my hand.”, as soon as he was given permission, he came all over Hotch’s hand and his own tummy. 

Aaron continued slamming his hips into Spencer’s, making him whine from the overstimulation. He pushed his hips so much harder than before, releasing as Spencer tightened around him, “Oh! You make daddy cum so hard, baby.”

“T-thank you, daddy.”

“Of course, baby.”, he pulled out slowly and began to walk away.

“W-wait! Will you um--”

“Will I what, baby?”

“W-will you plug me up. Want to keep the mess in.”

“I don’t know if you’ve earned that much of a reward.”, he said, cracking a rare smile.

“Please! I promise I’ll be good, daddy!”

Of course, Aaron knew this was a lie, he was bound to act up again but he simply couldn’t deny when Spencer looked at him with those signature puppy dog eyes. He pulled one of Spencer’s favorite plugs out of the drawer and slipped it slowly into him as Reid’s hips bucked up involuntarily, placing a soft kiss to his lips. 

“I’m going to get some clean pajamas for us, ok? I’ll be right here, baby.”

Spencer nodded with a small pout. Aaron handed him his favorite pair of pajama pants as he went to get him a glass of water. He reluctantly took a few sips before placing it against the night stand. Aaron got into the bed next to him, pulling Spencer close, knowing that he needs skin to skin contact after scenes like that. 

Reid fell into the spell of sleep first and Aaron watched how his chest rose and fell slowly while brushing through his soft locks before burying his head closer to Spencer and falling asleep himself.

--

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Masterlist

[chanluster]

non ducor duco | {m}

oneshot | historical! au | gang! au | 15.2k words 

“The most notorious gang leader in Victorian London can gouge out the eyes of men, steal from the corrupted rich, and terrify an entire city, but cannot figure out a few complicated feelings with you.”

s u m m a r y >> the leader of the sons of seoul, the wanted criminal mastermind, christopher bang, has the courage to commit any deed save for confronting you, his most trusted accomplice, about his feelings. however, when opportunity arises, in the shape of an invitation to a grand seasonal ball, to take down his fated enemy, he takes you to the heart of a lavish estate, both of you unaware of actions that occur inside, and after the mission.

w a r n i n g s >> gonna be using chris instead of chan cause it’s set in 1860s london, chan is a dom of course, jisung and changbin are dumb and dumber, are also massive cockblockers, some cliché scenes cause i’m a sucker for them, sexual! tension!, gore, foul language, making out, dirty talk, aggressiveness, semi-public fingering, unprotected sex (stay safe homies!!), oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, chan has a thing for being called his korean name, whack spelling for ‘cum’ as ‘come’ cause technically that word didn’t exist in 1860s, there is a plot so there will be build up

a / n > > so i went way over the 10k originally planned lmfaoooo but i hope y’all enjoy this oneshot! i worked my ass off on it and hopefully y’all can appreciate gang leader chan in 1860s london cause honestly i’m a 100% whore for that concept

back to masterlist

IT WAS A UNIVERSAL LAW THAT ONE MUST NEVER FUCK WITH CHRISTOPHER BANG. EVER.

Whatever charge you may have against him, it must be withdrawn. Whatever he had done to you — robbed you, murdered your son, destroyed your entire existence — it did not matter. There were always limits, and trying to challenge this specific criminal would only result in your undoing.

It seemed the target, cornered before you and the very man himself, did not fully understand this order.

Chris Bang, in all his midnight suited glory, took a step towards the cowering man, the ends of his longcoat trailing him in the air. His gloved hands locked behind his back, a grave curve of his lips as he addressed his next victim. “Mr. Shaw, we know you have the documents.”

This said Mr Shaw hastily shook his head, raising his hands in immediate surrender. “Please, Mr. Bang,” he whimpered. “I have no inkling of what you speak of!”

“Don’t you dare lie!” You interjected, sliding out your knife, pointing it towards him. “We received reports of you. Don’t you dare forget the monthly checks we’ve sent for its safekeeping!”

“I was taking care of it, Miss!” He backed further, until the wall of his office stopped his escape. “They came to the office though.”

“Who did?!” You demanded, but the way Chris’s hand fisted in irritancy answered your question.

The Mayor had taken their shares. Once again, the tyrant had robbed them off their fortune. 

“Mr. Shaw,” the man beside you started. The raw, dark matter in his voice had the owner’s eyes widening in pure fear. “Who was it specifically?”

“A really large man, about seven foot for sure…God, he had cuts all over his face, slight stubble,” he answered, knees slightly shaking. “Please, Mr. Bang, I have a family, children who have not grown—”

“Why is it that whenever man is at his weakest he mentions his loved ones?” A few stray locks escaped from Chris’ raked hair, caressing the ragged scar from his brow down to his cheek. “Why do you think that I’ll suddenly take pity because you have others who will mourn your existence?”

These questions had the man collapsing, leaning completely against the wall for support. You stole a glance at Chris, wondering if he was now capable of extracting the very souls from men. “Do not keep toying with me, Shaw,” he warned, leaning in slightly. “I know you have information.”

A soft, helpless whine escaped from the owner of the building. “Then-they'll kill me,” he mumbled, looking up at the criminal with desperation. It was a shame that never worked on a man with no sympathy.

“I can kill you too,” Chris countered, and in a flash a sleek, pocket knife appeared in his gloved hand, and hovered it right under Shaw’s chin. “So how about you tell me what you know, and I can prolong your imminent end, hmm? Does that seem fair enough?”

You almost felt sorry for the man. “H-his men…” tears formed in his eyes. “His men kept calling him Carter.”

“Brilliant,” you muttered. ‘Scar’ Carter, the Mayor’s link to the crime world, the dirty dealings of London. Carter, the lapdog of the socialites. The most irritating, disgusting son of a bitch you had ever encountered.

“I see.” The knife stayed, caressing the manager’s skin. “Now I know they’re to sell the documents. The bastard is greedy.

“Question is, Shaw, where is the transaction going to take place?”

Dear God, the man looked as if he was about to piss his trousers. “The ball.” He tried to gulp, but felt the curve of the blade. “The Mayor’s brother is holding a masquerade ball in a few days, and Carter already had a client. They’re going to do the dealing there, I swear on my children!”

A harsh scoff emitted from the criminal. “You better hope for the sake of your sons that you aren’t lying.” 

“Did you get the invitations?” You asked, eyes darting around the dirtied room, the messy desks and chairs lopsided from your searching. 

“Yes, yes!” He pointed to a set of drawers. “There are two in there!”

You walked towards the destination, opening the drawers and sure enough, finding the gold-edged enveloped, addressed to Shaw and his wife. “Are your names inside too?”

“No, just the envelope, but that is not important! I promise!”

You pocketed the invitations inside your coat pocket, joining your leader’s side again. Chris, after a minute of heart-wrenching silence, stood up, freeing Shaw’s neck from the knife, sliding it within his belt.

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” His eyes were still upon the man when he said, “Let us return.”

The both of you were ready to leave when you heard Shaw’s sudden protests.

“The Sons of Seoul, everybody!” He declared, almost hysterically. “Coming in, fucking everything up, and leaving as if nothing had ever happened!”

Chris paused in his tracks, a quiet stillness passing over his whole figure. 

“What are you going to do now, Mr. Bang?” He hissed, slowly sliding up. “Are you going to infiltrate the biggest ball of the season? Create a bloodbath on the dance floor? It’s what you love to do so ardently, no?”

You heard the harsh spit smack on the office floor. “Stop meddling with the business of the British socialites. Go back to the gutter you crawled out of.” The next words overflowed with hatred. “Go back to where you really came from, you slit-eyed prick.”

Your eyes flashed in shock, swerving around to see the raging expression on Shaw’s beady little face. Fisting your hands, you were ready to knock him out when you felt the man beside you move.

Chris whirled around, eyes promising a horrifying future as he pounced upon the manager.

A yelp was heard as Chris’ fingers dug at the corner of Shaw's eyes, and relished the cries of terror as with a roar of his own, he squeezed with his thumb and forefinger, swelling the balls of vision from their sockets. With a loud pop! the two eyes tore from their origins, gooey residue trailing down his face as Christopher Bang palmed the two organs in his hands.

He observed his victim bellowing in pain as he fell to his knees, hands covering his bloodied sockets. A ghostly smirk accompanied his lips. "Better slit-eyes than none at all."

You had to suppress the severe shivers that threatened to break your stance. 

Shaw broke the universal law. His undoing was inevitable.

He flung the eyes upon the owner, and turned on his heel, eerily cool as he walked out of the office, blood and goo still on his black gloves. Not a hair ruffled upon his pretty head. 

You spared a look at the victim, crying out in infinite pain, hands on his sockets still. “Do not fuck with Christopher Bang,” was all you said, before following the devil out of the building.

The afternoon London heat hit you as you exited the offices, Chris waiting as he examined the filthy streets surrounding you. People of all classes strolled by, beggars on the street asking for two-pence, children selling newspapers down the corners, and carriages riding away on the wide roads. The man still did not clean his gloves from the mess, and you pointed this out as you arrived at his side.

“It does not bother me,” he waved you off, but you brought out your leather skin.

“Bring your hands out,” you ordered. 

Chris scowled. “I said I’m alright,___.” He began walking forwards, towards your humble abode, not far away from your starting point. “Besides, whoever strolls past us, they’ll second guess their evil intentions against us.” You glanced over the strange looking fellows, scattered across the roads. “Shows I am not afraid to get my hands dirty.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled. “Dirty pig.”

You felt daggers glaring into you. “What did you say?”

“You heard me,” you said, turning a corner, already catching sight of the docks. “I expect this behaviour from Jisung. Perhaps even Changbin, but not from you.”

“Enough with this,” the man ordered, irritancy clear in his voice. Grumbling, you walked beside him in silence, the Thames entering your vision. You wished it would have radiated a rich, clear blue body of water, but from the stench which even reached your nose, it would be impossible. The river, a dump for the sewers, the rubbish disposed daily, was a toxic mass of water, and the cause of thousands dying from drinking its contents. When you first joined the Sons you nearly drank from the river, being saved only by Chris’ rough hand slapping the cup away. You remembered you received a harsh scolding from him that day, immediately providing you with clean water after to quench your thirst. 

A small smile curved onto your lips at the memory.

“Hand it over.”

You perked your head up to see his filthy, gloved hands out. “What is it?” You asked. 

“The water.”An irritated sigh escaped him. “I’ll clean the bloody gloves.” 

Your smile grew as you handed him the leather skin. “But only because I don’t ever want to be associated with Jisung and Changbin,” he added, and you only laughed, watching the man rub the mess off his attire as you both arrived at the docks.

The first sounds heard were not of the boats bellowing at port, nor the waves lapping in underneath the stilts. 

No, all you were welcomed with was a string of curses, spat by Seo Changbin.

“You fucking bastard, how dare you—”

“Here we go again,” you caught Chris muttering, who quickened his pace, thundering to where the two of his sidemen fought, caught in a scrap.

Han Jisung’s whines were carried through the river air, burning into your eardrums. “Bin, no, I said I’m sorry—!”

When you caught up to Chris, he opened his mouth, exasperation clear in his voice. “Boys!” He exclaimed.

Immediately the fighting ceased. The boys addressed, Changbin atop Jisung, ready to throw the final punch, turned back to see his leader scowling. Jisung let out a yelp, throwing the former from him and scrambling to his feet. Changbin followed suit, a little more slowly after rubbing his side in agony.

“Why the fuck,” Chris started, pointer finger darting between his two men, “Are you both fighting again?”

Changbin, fixing his ruined locks with his hand, shot his best friend a glare. “He took my fucking scones again.” He groaned, much too loud. “God, I specifically stored them in a place where no one would find them, but this greedy pig still managed to snuff them out!”

Jisung, a slender and more comical figure, crossed his arms, raising his chin in stubbornness. “I did not see a bloody name on them! Tell me Bin,” he matched his opponent’s stare. “Did you write down your name with blood-red ink across the scones? Because I certainly did not see the words Seo Changbin scrawled on the surface!”

“Argh!” The elder of the two turned his raging gaze towards the leader, who was watching his subordinates with slight distaste. “Chris, permission to cut off his tongue for being the bane of my existence?!”

Chris only stepped past them, heading for the big wooden table situated near the gang’s warehouse. The sounds of ships sailing in the dirty waters thrummed to the port, shouting heard all around over new, imported goods. “Another time, Changbin,” he only said, bringing out a chair and sitting down, propping an ankle over a knee. “I have encountered enough organ slicing for the day.”

Jisung’s face twisted in awed curiosity, settling himself down beside Chris. “Without me?” he let out a disappointed whine, turning to you. “I trusted you, at least!”

“I was surprised myself, Ji,” you argued, raising a hand towards the aloof man as you sat opposite your friend. “I didn’t know Chris gouged out Shaw’s eyes until they were in his hand!”

“You truly are a selfish man,” Changbin complained, plopping himself on the last seat. “Alway keeping the fun for yourself and ____.”

You did not really know why your face flushed a little at his charge, but you made sure to whack Changbin in the gut, earning a pained groan from the boy.

Chris locked his hands upon the table. “Well, gentlemen, then it is time for you to join in on the entertainment.”

The two boys exchanged confused glances. On cue, you brought out the pair of invitations within your coat pocket, tossing them to the table. “The Mayor’s brother is holding a ball,” you explained, rolling your eyes at the boys tearing open the envelopes, yanking out the oblong, cartridge paper, details inked with a precise hand. “Since it does not have names, anyone can enter the estate.”

Jisung let out an excited yell, grabbing onto Changbin’s arm. ���Binnie, we can actually have some fun!”

“Not so fast, boys,” Chris said, tightening his gloves. “The invitations are not yours.”

Changbin’s face immediately fell. “Are you fucking kidding me—”

The elder held out a finger, silencing the complaints, but not the quiet grumbling of his members. “As I was saying,” he continued, hands interlocking once more, “____ and I will use the invitations to get inside, with the two of you as our bodyguards.”

“Marvellous!” Jisung exclaimed, sarcasm practically dripping on his words. “Absolutely fan-fucking-tastic!”

“Jisung,” Chris warned, “How about you clean the shit off the docks instead?”

“Chan,” you murmured, causing him to glance at you. His sour expression almost softened at the word, the name which only few have ever said to him. You pondered at the time the two boys, sat to your right, tried teasing him with this name, and nearly earned an ass-beating. You, on the other hand, rather liked the way the name sounded on your tongue. 

Perhaps, you wished dearly, he liked the way it sounded on your tongue too.

The man, after a pause, averted his eyes from you, focusing them on his comrades. “You both can still enjoy the festivities, but you have to keep a low profile, because while ____ and I are socialising and distracting the guests, you both need to find Carter.”

“Is he at the party too?” Changbin propped his elbows on the table. “Lord above, I’ve been wanting to kick his arse for a while.”

“So you both just frivol away, then?” Jisung whined. “I want to drink and dance!”

“And you both will,” Chris persisted. “We all will keep a lookout for Carter and his dealings, and if any of us find him first, you report to me. At my signal, you and Changbin will break through their trade. I will be behind you as long as I slip away without anyone discovering our motives.”

You look to your leader. “There’s another problem.”

The three all turned to you. “If we are to go to the most lavish ball of the season, we certainly need to dress for it.” Suddenly, you sounded like a little girl when you pointed out, “I do not have a gown to wear for the evening.”

An eyebrow raised upon Chan’s face, while Changbin and Jisung snickered, puckering their lips. “Aww, poor little ____ has no lace to woo the rich men!”

You made to slap the pair’s arms and narrowly missed, glaring. “As if you animals have any decent attire to wear for the ball! When was the last time you wore a proper tailcoat?”

That was enough for their teasing to cease, but Changbin was adamant. “Don’t throw me in with Jisung! He doesn't even bother to shower!”

“Oi, you bastard!”

The pair were ready to fight once more when Chris cleared his throat.

“You’re right,____.”

A glance at the man who said it. “I have only seen you in stealth gear and rags, the first time I met you.” He leaned back in his creaking chair. “Perhaps it is time to flower you up a little.”

Jisung and Changbin were about to chuckle once again when you shot them a dirty look.

“I will order evening attire tomorrow,” Chris decided. “They will arrive on the day of the ball, which is adequate enough timing. 

“Now,” he declared, standing. “Are we all aware of what we have to do?”

The two boys turned sheepishly to you, who sighed and addressed the leader. “You and I attend the ball with these two fools as our bodyguards—”

“Hey!”

“____!”

“We maintain a believable facade and enjoy ourselves while also looking out for Carter and the documents. Once we find out where he is, Changbin and Jisung take him away, and we slip out of the party unnoticed.”

Chris, after a pause, nodded, a ghost of a smile upon his lips. “Good girl.”

And just like that, he left the table, your eyes a little wide and heart a little raced. 

When Chris retreated into the warehouse, the two boys turned their malicious gazes towards you, smirking much too wide for your liking.

“Do not,” you snapped, cheeks burning deeper, earning a smattering of laughter from the bastards.

“Whatever you say, good girl,” Changbin simpered, Jisung repeating the damned endearment until you hastily stood from your chair.

You rewarded them both with your middle finger before storming back into another warehouse, Chris’ words still engraved in your mind.

Just as Christopher Bang had predicted, the new attire arrived on the day of the ball. 

More planning had been explained, more additions to the grand scheme of the evening which was mere hours away. The gang was ready, but you can never be perfectly anticipated for any ideas gone amiss.

You even taught Jisung and Changbin to dance, ranging from the Polka to the Viennese Waltz, which was popular amongst high society in the growing years of Queen Victoria’s reign. They were terrible at the start, both of them always falling on each other, but with hard effort they learned quickly, almost perfecting the art of leading your partner on the ballroom floor.

You had not bothered asking the other if he wished to learn. There was something about him which made you think that he could do anything. Not once had he ever doubted your theory.

It was as if there was nothing in the world he could not know like the back of his gloved hand.

Thoughts like these were what filled you with such awe for him. Such deep-rooted pride that you worked under this man. Those thoughts did, however, curve into darker corners — when his midnight-lined eyes and raven figure haunted you in restless nights. 

You aggressively shook your head, swinging your legs over the dock. Sitting upon the wood, you watched the sun descend slowly, the stark yellows and whites of the sky beginning to darken. Ships docked and stayed, men with their filthy language and filthier intentions flocked outside, and strange women with too-tight corsets and lips too rosey, smirking at the newcomers, carrying out their own ways of living.

Sometimes, you’d watch this run-down life move on in this exact same spot, thanking the lucky stars for not being one of the boys with the weights on their backs, nor the girls with the untied top corsets. You thanked the same man, who brought you out of that hell, giving you the chance to fight all this wrong embedded in London. 

You also thanked him, especially that day, for calling you that endearment. 

God. The man was a criminal, yet you were the one being imprisoned. 

“____!”

You turned, heaving to your feet when you see Jisung running to you, packages in his hands. “Your gown’s inside!” He exclaimed, gummy smile lighting up his entire face. 

Throwing you the box, you caught it just before it flew into the Thames, shooting the boy a wary glare. “Careful,” you said, looking over the silk ribbon tied into a perfect bow upon the middle. Although there were greater happinesses in life, small ones such as new dresses had you in near giggles.

“I’ve got my very own tailcoat now,” Jisung yelled, ripping open the packaging, about to whip out his new clothing when you waved him to stop.

“Do it inside, Ji, or you’ll ruin your outfit!”

“Trust him to fuck up a perfectly new suit before trying it on,” Changbin’s voice drawled through the dock, who held a box of his own. “Also, the boss is saying to quit dallying and start dressing!”

You obliged, holding onto your box tenderly as you entered a little building beside the main warehouse, consisting of everyone’s rooms and privies. Your eyes glanced to Chris’ bedroom door before pushing open the door to yours, stepping inside to the small, yet decorated space, filled with a board of knives and bows displayed upon one wall and an erratic strokes of paint brushed along the textured surfaces, courtesy of Jisung and Changbin’s lack of motivation to finish your room. An undone bed was tucked into the corner, and a large mirror stood on its curled railing in the other corner, revealing yourself, hands underneath the package.

The sun fell further, sky being painted with dark oranges and purple and pinks, staining your bedroom the colours of soft autumn as you put your package on the bed, untying the ribbon and unboxing the whole treat. 

The first glance of the dress had you smiling in pure incitement.

You brought the dress out of its box, letting it trail free right down to your toes, holding it to arm’s length to examine the details : it was a mysterious, dark red, a colour which instantly attracted attention within the golds of the ballroom. The neck line was low, dipping just enough to tempt until it swelled over for the openings for the arms, black ruffles on the fabric to accentuate off shoulders. The intricate, midnight detail was stitched to perfection, creating a network of swirls upon the bodice before flaring out into the wider skirts. Dear God, you had never seen such an exquisite dress on any noble lady in this damned city.

Your smile grew a little wider. Christopher Bang, once again, has not disappointed. 

You turned it on it’s back, mouth parting in surprise at the silk lacing, undone and trailing down the dress, waiting to be tied and admired. Realising that we’re you to wear this, the entire ball would see your back half-exposed. Even the man you’re to be escorted with.

The thought alone made your insides sing. 

Chris had ordered this dress. He knew what he was acquiring for you, what he asked you to dare. 

Well, you were happy to oblige. Something within you wished to see his eyes blaze at you in the gown.

Closing the curtains of your room, you quickly lit up a metallic lamp, orange light leaking onto your dresser and walls.  Setting the source upon a stool, you began shedding your coat, tossing it on the bed before going to the dresser.

You spent about ten minutes on your hair, lifting locks upward and curling them into a messy bun. You brought out clips of pearls, attaching them at the back of your hair, letting the few stray curls bounce along your ears and neck.

After finishing your hair you began shedding your clothing, excitement rushing in your gut at the thought of wearing the ballgown. When you were adorned in nothing but your underthings, you grabbed onto the arms of the new dress, entering one leg into the opening before sliding the other. You raised the gown, fitting the bodice upon yourself and the short sleeves cuffing just under your shoulders. 

Looking over your shoulder at the back, it was bare before the mirror, saving your rear only with a small dip which was edged with more black lace. The laces for tightening the back still hung uselessly, begging to be entangled with their partners.

And you tried to oblige. You truly did, straining your hands behind your back and trying your hardest to tie the laces with the opposites, of creating a pattern adequate enough for the ball and announce your preparation. Unfortunately for you, your fingers refused to assist you that moment in the evening. 

Letting out an irritated sigh, you called for your friends.

“Jisung!” you shouted, hands endeavouring still. “Changbin!”

Your back still to the door, you waited for the two fools to arrive, but no one came. Again, you called their names, but to no avail, only silence answering you.

“I swear to the Lord,” you muttered, arms now starting to hurt from the stretching. You were about to bring the warehouse down with your roar when you heard the door quietly creak open, the sound of boots emitting against the floor. 

“Ah, finally,” you began as you turned around, hands clutching the bodice of the dress, ready to be irritated by your comrades when all words abandoned your tongue.

There, standing by the door, in all his midnight-tainted glory, was Chris Bang.

You hated how your eyes widened at the sight of him. 

The man always took care of his appearance, but that evening he had truly outdone himself - His infamous woollen longcoat was hung over his arm, exposing his black tailcoat, shining slightly in the flickering lamp light. His waistcoat underneath fit snug, and his white cravat tie peaked just above the lapels, caressing his Adam’s apple. His raven locks were slicked back, a few stray flyaways drooping over his forehead. The gloves were worn still, skin never exposed.

You caught his eyes flicker, something within stirring at seeing you, holding onto your dress in case it fell to the floor. The prolonging silence was shattered when you forced yourself to speak.

“Chris,” you said, because his name was the first thing, the only thing you could comprehend.

He, too, inhaled, slowly. “Jisung and Changbin...they’re outside, so they could not hear.”

“Oh.” 

Another round of silence. God, you wished you could just say something to him, anything which wasn’t a single syllable—

“____.”

You snapped into focus. “Yes?”

“Why did you call them?”

Blinking, you stumbled, “I, I just needed help with…” your hand gestured to your back. “...with the laces.”

There was an indecipherable undertone in his next words. “You could have called me.”

“You’re here now.”

Again. The world-heavy pause upon the both of you. 

A few more seconds ticked by when Chris set his coat upon the dresser chair. His eyes never left yours.

“Turn around.”

You dragged your gaze away from his as you complied, baring your back before him, laces dangling. His footsteps sounded from behind you, and his presence was felt, large and magnetic.

Leather sliding from skin, you sensed his eyes on you, taking in your illuminated skin. You had the greatest urge to shiver, but suppressed it, waiting for his next move.

A small breath hitched in your throat when Chris grabbed onto the first pair of laces and tugged them back, pulling you to him. 

Almost too conveniently, your rear backed against his crotch, and a minute noise escaped you before putting some distance between you two again. You instantly regretted the action, already missing the mere caress of what lay underneath his trousers.

“Stop fidgeting,____,” he ordered, and you immediately stilled, the tug still adamant at your back. Almost disgraceful how quickly you listened to him.

Slowly, he tied the first bow, right to the small of your back. When he started on the second, though, the first touch of his fingers against your back threw you off guard.

You should have expected this. You should have known from the start of his task that his fingers would graze your skin but each caress was like a lick of fire, threatening to singe the skin. Your breath caught in your throat, each time Chris touched you.

Those damned fingers skirted upwards, tying up the laces with such delicacy it nearly softened your stance, if only you didn’t notice his growing warmth. You realised with no small amount of pleasure that he, too, was possibly flustered.

Christopher Bang. Flustered over a girl.

You almost gasped when his hands brought a few stray curls over your shoulder, the dip of your neck exposed as he began the final bow of your gown. The process was excruciatingly slow, each little caress enough for you to turn around and—

And what?

How you desperately wanted to find out. 

Sensing the ribbon curling upon your neck, you understood. 

“It is done,” he whispered, and you shifted at the sigh which kissed your skin. God, he was so close, you were scared that if you turned around his lips—

You did not need to worry when you felt strong hands grip your shoulders, whirling you around in a sudden fashion. Your eyes widened at the close proximity of his face, his beautiful fucking face, and the warm, slender hands on your naked shoulders.

“Chan,” you let yourself say, and you swore the criminal’s eyes darkened. His grip on you tightened.

Perhaps he would have closed the distance, saved you from desperation when someone knocked on the goddamn door.

“___?!”

“Hurry up, the carriage is waiting!”

“Women, honestly—!”

You yelped at the sound of your friends bellowing behind the door. Even Chris looked a little surprised, a slight tick in his jaw as the noise grew louder.

Grabbing onto your skirts, you thundered towards the door, furrowing your brows as you twisted the knob, opening to see the same two idiots, shooting you irritated glares. 

“Is Miss Fancy-Shmancy finally ready?” Changbin drawled, propping a hand upon his hip, tails of his coat dangling behind him.

“Madame certainly took her time,” Jisung went on, sauntering into your bedroom without a care. “Might as well not attend the ball at all—”

His incessant rambling was instantly ceased when he saw Chris standing before you, putting on his gloves. His face was impassive as ever, save for the jaw still tightened.

“Oh, Chris,” he said, and started backing away to the door. “The carriage is outside.”

“Let us go, then,” he only replied as he grabbed his longcoat, strolling out of your bedroom, leaving your skin tingling and heart confused.

Changbin watched Chris exit the building, turning to you with a raised brow. “What was the Mr. Thorns-up-his-arse doing in your room?”

You scoffed at the nickname, picking up the invitations from the dresser. “He was just helping me.”

Jisung’s lips curved into a smirk. “Helping you…?”

“Stop it!” You demanded, but both of the boys could see the blush on your cheeks, even from the dim lamp light. 

“Come on, now,____,” Changbin said, holding out an arm, and hitting Jisung’s arm to do the same. “Let us follow Chris before he shouts at us for keeping you here.”

“Don’t say such things,” you cooed, looping your arms with the two boys. “He will kill you outright instead.”

Laughter emitted from the two, leading you out of the room, down the halls and soon the building.

The carriage was waiting at the entrance of the dock, horses neighing softly at your arrival. Jisung opened the carriage door, letting you climb inside. Chris, inside already, held out a hand, you taking it as he had you sit beside him. His hard figure brushed against your shoulders, reminding you of his fingers on your back not too long ago.

Just like that, you slumped against the seating. That man was truly going to be the death of you.

When the two boys scrambled inside, Chris’ hand thudded against the roof, indicating it to start riding. The carriage obliged to his command. 

The small, interwoven streets widened as the carriage rode upon the main roads, going faster with each signal of Chris’ hand. The inside was alive with Jisung gloating shamelessly over his checkered waistcoat, with Changbin giving reassurances for his “ugly face ruining the clothing.” You laughed at every jab the two threw at each other, but would tense at the erratic touches Chris’ knee would send with every shake of the vehicle. Although the many layers of skirts cushioned these brushes, the blood rushing to your cheeks was evidence enough - everything he did made you so unhinged.

Soon, the big roads led from filthy, back-to-back housing to larger homes, the further the dirty central city strayed from you. A few touches of countryside teased your view when you saw mansions, estates the size of neighbourhoods gracing the surroundings. The carriage began to slow down, as more people adorned in fine attire entered your window view, no doubt going to the same destination as the gang.

The most illuminated estate welcomed you as the carriage stopped right before its vast, colourful gardens, smattering of couples taking intimate walks along the hedges. Chris, noticing the destination, opened the door, Changbin following suit. As the former got out he held out his hand to you. Surprised by his sudden manners, you took his hand, stepping down from the carriage, careful of your skirts as they brushed against the pavement. Jisung and Changbin were right beside you, uttering the driver to come back within a couple of hours.

“Now,” Chris began, bringing your hand to his arm. “You both stay behind me and ____. You wouldn’t need invitations if you both act like our bodyguards.”

“Right behind you, boss,” Jisung chanted, counting his knives inside his coat pockets. Changbin took one of the weapons from him, sliding it up his trouser sleeve, securing it with a leather ankle strap. 

“Right.” the gang all looked at each other, silent understanding passing between all of you.

“Let’s ruffle some rich feathers.”

With your hand still on his arm, the leader of the Sons of Seoul led his gang inside of the massive estate. 

Guards at the entrance shot you grave looks as they stopped you. “Invitations,” they said. You obliged, bringing out the golden paper. They looked over, convinced, and gave them back to you.

You and Chris were about to enter when Jisung and Changbin were stopped behind you. “Protection,” Chris said, but the guards were unconvinced. 

“They need invitations too,” was their answer.

Dread, slight yet present, began to fill your stomach. Has the mission failed before it could even begin?

“I suggest you let them in, too,” Chris only said, black eyes piercing the two men with a glare. “Or my friend hosting this party will hear of this inconvenience.”

That seemed to stir the guards, for they said nothing more, letting your friends enter the estate. Jisung and Changbin made sure to smirk at the men before sauntering inside behind you.

Your eyes, upon stepping inside the main hall, were welcomed with paradise. 

Gold. gold upon gold was painted, lined, moulded everywhere, upon the walls, on the floor, on the painted ceiling, hypnotising you with its kaleidoscopic pattern. Swirls of white and silver journeyed along the walls, and the floor bore solid treasures, sculpted into the ground and shining exquisitely from the chandelier lighting. Hundreds of lords and ladies, businessmen and escorts populated the manor, either being moved by the orchestral band, dancing, helping themselves to food from the lines of dishes or simply mingling among others.

It was the chaos of the rich. A place you didn’t quite fit in.

You stole a glance at the man beside you. Even though he looked contained as ever, you felt his arm tightening all over. Perhaps he knew he did not belong in this world either.

The grim understanding was cut off when Changbin’s shrill gulp sounded from behind you.

“Scones!”

The man immediately dashed towards the food section, earning blatant laughter from his friends as Jisung stepped beside Chris. “Once he’s done stuffing himself, we’ll get into positions.” He skirted his eyes over the buzzing crowd. “I have already spotted some of Carter’s men in different corners of the hall, so we can see where they’re going to go.”

“Any signs of Carter?” you asked, already feeling suggestive eyes on your body, the dark red curves of your figure. 

“He’ll show himself soon,” Chris promised, beginning to take a step forward. “The bastard thrives in attention.” He turned to Jisung. “Make yourself scarce.”

He then saw Changbin making himself much too comfortable with the jam scones rapidly declining in his wake. “And for God’s sake, control Changbin.”

Jisung shook his head, mocking a salute before strolling to his friend. You and him were left to your own activities, and soon you felt the tug of his body, leading you further into the hall.

You looked up to see him scouring the room. His brows furrowed slightly, that stiffness felt underneath your fingertips. “Chris,” you called to him, and were answered with an uncertain stare.

“I’m alright,” he said, walking along the lines of the dance floor, looking away when he gave you the false assurance. 

You did not know what was going on. In other missions his composure would never falter — this was what he was so notorious for, being calm despite the anarchy around him. Never before had you seen him so tense.

“Stop it.”

You blinked back into reality. “What?”

“You’re doing it again,” he hissed, raking his hand through his hair. “Looking at me that way. Like I’m about to snap.”

A pout formed on your lips, looking up at him underneath your lashes. “I can sense you’re distressed.” You squeezed his arm in comfort. “I cannot help if I worry for you, Chris.” 

With small surprise, you found him soften, only slightly. “I just…” he sighed in exasperation. “I hate parties.”

You understood the connotations. Wealthy parties. The men and women who throw them. 

“And I, too,” you agreed, earning a soft snort from the man. Your heart warmed a little at the sound, and thankfully the tension faded between the two of you, not necessarily from each other but from the socialites around you.

Your heart, however, received no such rest, beating much too loud for your liking. 

The two of you took another turn of the room before a low, arrogant drawl paused you both in your tracks.

“Mr Christopher Bang.”

You and your leader both sighed simultaneously. 

Turning, you tilted your head upwards to none other than ‘Scar’ Carter, smirking ridiculously down at the the two of you. He was something out of a children’s book, the grotesque villains with wanned skin and beady looks, ready to pounce and make you disappear without you ever realising. Although young, he looked to be in his mid-forties, unkept locks and curled moustache, being played by his fingers. 

He held out his other hand, extending the smile to the man beside you. “Always a goddamned blessing to see you.”

Chris assessed his hand for a moment before he let go of your grip on his arm, slipping off his gloves. His own olive coloured hands were roughened, no doubt from years of manual labour. He took Carter’s hand, shaking the greeting in place, and the latter turned his enemy’s hold, looking over at the new image inked upon the hand.

“What is this, Chrissy?” He mused, the nickname causing the said-man’s lips to twitch. “Some flowery poetry?”

Your eyes strayed to what he meant; just under his thumb, where the joint began, was a tattoo, inked deeply in a cursive hand. It was a phrase you had never knew the meaning of, nor had you asked, but the Latin was beautiful on his textured skin.

NON DUCOR DUCO.

“Not poetry, Carter,” he only said, tracing his sole tattoo with a finger. “But something I live by.”

Despite Carter towering over the man, Chris Bang pinned him with a piercing glare. His signature phantom smile appeared on his lips. 

“I am not led. I lead.”

The giant’s shit-eating grin faltered. You could not help but let a small chuckle escape at his reaction. 

And maybe you shouldn’t have shown amusement, because when he focused his animalistic gaze upon you, you had the sudden urge to hold onto the man beside you again.

“Ah, Miss ____,” he jeered, mocking a deep bow which you did not return. “Chris’ little...protégée.”

He then held out his hand to you, and you knew it was not to shake the gnarled fingers. “Would you do me the honour of dancing with you?”

You scoffed, anger bubbling within your veins. How dare he even ask you, after all the trouble he had caused for the gang? Smirking as if it was all a little game.

Your mouth parted, ready to reject him outright when a warm hand settled on your back. 

Chris’ fingers stroked the exposed skin, skirting over the lacing, and despite the heavenly feeling, you knew what this signal really meant. 

Distraction. This would be the perfect opportunity to divert Carter’s attention while Chris joined in the other’s search. Listening to the instrumental, you realised that would spare them another five minutes.

Reigning in your fury, you offered the bastard a thin-lipped smile before taking his hand, already missing the mere touch of another seconds before.

Carter led you to the dance floor among the other dancers, you hardly radiating the same enthusiasm as the others accompanying you. The man’s other hand, one still holding yours, snaked around your waist, and you hated how it felt against your back, pure distaste staining your features as he tried to impersonate the idle lace curling that Chris did.

As if it physically hurt, you propped a hand upon his shoulder, and when the music began, the game started.

The giant kept ogling at you as the sly grin appeared on his lips. “I must say, I am very envious of Chris.”

You matched his stare. “Of course you would,” you only said, trying your best to sound like your leader, who was an embodiment of calmness. “You can never be the man Chris is.”

“Oh, I did not mean by what he is, my lady,” he corrected. “I meant by what he has.”

He pulled you to him, much to close, and you hissed as the fingers behind you played on your back. “He is much too lucky to possess a creature like you, Miss ____.”

Good God. If he endeavoured to make you as uncomfortable as possible, then he was doing a splendid job. You regretted ever listening to Chris, but for the plan, you will do what is necessary.

As if on cue, you felt dark, piercing eyes on you. By the little hairs which stood at the back of your neck, there was no doubt who watched over you, murmuring progress with Jisung as he sipped wine on a tightly held flute. 

“Tell me, sweet,” he began once more, making you lose your thoughts, turning about the room as the music went on. “Why do you work for a man like him?”

You sighed at the question. Truly this man did not know how to initiate small talk. “Why is that any of your concern?”

“Because I’ve seen you in action,” he answered, and you could not mistake the awe that threatened to expose in his voice. “You have incredible potential, my lady, and it pains me that Chris does not use you properly. You waste your efforts in a silly gang.”

His condescending speech made you dig his nails in his hand. “Careful, Carter,” you seethed, watching his face crumple in pain from your action. “The silly gang you speak of will not hesitate to obliterate your entire organisation. And neither will I.”

Rage flashed in his eyes as he grinned at your claim. “I doubt the esteemed Christopher Bang would even let you participate,” he drawled, grazing his fingers against your back. “You being his whore is enough for him.”

You parted your mouth in slight shock. The reaction quickly evaporated with pure, unadulterated fury. A lot of people speculate your true relationship with Chris, but your own demeaning always struck deep. How dare people think that you only have the power you have because you slept with the greatest criminal in the city? 

With your head raging, you sent your low heel down upon Carter’s boot, a yelp escaping the man as his dancing faltered, grip on you loosening. Fortunately for you, the orchestra smoothed their music to a close, and small applause rang around the room, you joining as you smiled at Carter’s slight groaning.

When the giant looked at you again, all his arrogance was gone, instead a face of wrath. “You bitch-”

You were sure he was going to strike, despite hundreds in the ballroom. Even your smug demeanour dampened when you saw his bear-like hand raise when its journey was paused.

Ceased completely as Chris’ hand wrapped around Carter’s wrists.

Your leader’s smile was sharp, like a decorated dagger. “Are you already creating a scene, just when you finished the first dance?”

Carter, dumbfounded by his enemy’s sudden presence, waved off the foreign grip on his hand. “You are never going to find the documents,” he crowed, glaring at the two of you.

Chris, the magnificent bastard, only kept his magnetic smirk as he took your hand, enveloping his fingers with yours. “We shall see about that,” he promised, and dipped his head in adieu, turning on his heel and taking you with him. 

You felt your heart flutter when his grip on you stayed, even when Carter stomped off into the crowd. “Bastard,” you hissed. A hum of agreement followed. 

Soon, music began to play a sensual tune, and you looked to the couples joining in the main circle of the floor. You made to leave that area when you felt the man refused to be led. 

You looked back, noticing an uncertain emotion swirling in his eyes. “The dance is about to begin.”

“So?” he merely said, hands still clasping yours. The people around you began to take positions. 

“Chris,” you got out. “You do not dance.”

A small smile enveloped his mouth at the claim. He answered in wrapping a hand around you, making you suck in a breath. You caught sight of the tattoo inked on his skin as he raised his hold on. NON DUCOR DUCO.

I am not led. I lead.

“You’re right,” he admitted. As the first tune of the violin settled in the ballroom, the man took a step. “But I let it slide on special occasions.”

You did not reply, only staring at him as you happily let him turn you about the dance floor.

Your assumptions were correct - Chris Bang was a wonderful dancer. The man already possessed a natural smoothness in his usual movement, but the way he led you across the room gave fluidity another meaning entirely. His hand on your back was an anchor to reality, keeping you from dreaming away in the skies above, and his fingers, interlocked with yours, were a silent promise that he was never letting you go. 

You were so caught up in your fantasies that you did not hear what Chris said until he called your name. 

“____.”

You perked up, raising your brows. “Yes?

“Did Carter say anything to you?” His fingers on your exposed skin began to caress you, and it took a lot within you to stay calm. “You were seething while you both danced.”

Oh, so he was watching you. The information didn’t help your nerves. “He was being his usual, charming self,” you drawled, careful of your feet. 

He paused a bit at your unhelpful answer. “I see,” he got out, index curling with the ribbon of your back. You let out a shuddered breath, not going unnoticed by the man. 

You changed the subject, focusing on the mission. “Are Jisung and Changbin still searching for the documents?”

Chris, on the note, twirled you delicately, and brought you back into his arms. “They have discovered the hideout, and have taken down half the men,” he informed, and you sighed in relief. “They’ll find what we’re looking for soon.”

“I hope so, too,” you murmured, listening to the music ascend in its pitch. 

So much finery radiated in this room. As your eyes drifted to the surroundings once more, you became slightly envious of the family fortunate enough to reside in this estate, and drink in the liquid gold splattered everywhere in the vast hall. Complaints were heard from a rather nasty woman, who screamed at a young servant for spilling wine on her oh so expensive dress, and the jewellery which glittered upon necks and ears. 

This. you hated this. Despised the wealth which accumulated in this ball, this entire neighbourhood. Not months ago you were about to die from the lack of food in your stomach. No doubt these people simply relished another one of these many balls, occurring every season.

It was the only reason the Sons of Seoul existed in the first place. To battle the ranks of the rich, and establish a sense of justice which had long faded from London.

Perhaps Chris sensed your growing disgust at the environment, for he sighed. “I hate these people.”

You nearly smiled at how similar you both think.

His touches still had you nearing closer to him as he continued, “I hate how everyone here can simply enjoy themselves without a care in the world. I hate the Mayor for letting this chaos happen as he sits back on his arse, corruption spiking under his office.”

His anger grew. “I hate that pig-headed prick Carter and all the trouble he’s brought me. I hate that he stole those documents and constantly fucks with me as if we two had not crawled out of the same hellhole.

“And God,” he snapped, pure venom now lacing his tongue, “I hate how he was touching you as if you were no one but his.”

Your eyes widened at the confession.

He groaned out in frustration, fingers tightening on your hand. “I hate how Jisung and Changbin walked in on us this evening. Despise that the moment I was about to close the distance they burst through the door, leaving me helpless. And I hate feeling helpless.”

You did not know what to say, what words to comfort him with. Not when you were thinking the exact same thing, and felt the exact same agitation, particularly at your core.

The man leaned in, eyes heavy lidded. “You know what I hate the most, ____?”

Gulping, you let out a little, “What?” afraid of what he was going to reveal.

His tongue ran along his bottom lip, fingers continuing their teasing.

“I-” he seethed, gripping your back tightly. “Fuck, I hate how ravishing you look in that dress.”

You parted your mouth in shock, blushing the colour of roses. “Why do you hate that?” you only asked, breath almost lost in your lungs as your blood began to thrum beneath your skin.

His eyes lost all dreamy light when a small curve enveloped his lips. “Because, my dear ____,” he muttered hoarsely, each breath ragged, “It makes me think of all the things I want to do to you.”

The strong hand on his back was felt much more, fingers playing with the laces of your dress. You nearly cried out in front of a hundred people over their idle play, and his bold, bold statement.

Chris relished in your whimpering reaction. “Aren’t you going to ask me?” he whispered, leaning in till his mouth hovered near your ear. “Do you not want to know what I wish to do to you?”

“What,” you rasped out, grip tightening over his neck. “What are you going to do?”

His husky chuckling nearly sent you over the edge. “I’ll find a nice little space, away from Carter and all these people,” he began, breath caressing your skin. “Then I’ll kiss you slowly, like so.” he pressed a chaste kiss underneath your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “These hands of mine will roam all over, but they will gladly trail up your legs, ____.

“And God, when my hands stop at your sopping cunt, I’ll make it cry with my fingers.” He drummed his fingers on your back. “One.” Tap. “Two.” Tap. “Three of them.” Tap. “Perhaps you’d like more.”

You whined into his shoulder, feet stumbling as you clung onto him tighter. “M-more,” you pleaded quietly, so careful to keep dancing, move along to the music. 

“Of course you would,” he only cooed in your ear, and you were scared you would collapse over his words. “Luckily for you, I wouldn’t be finished with you either.”

Your hand, clasped in his his, squeezed at his words. “Chris, please—”

“Yes, just like that,” the man mused, whirling you on the dance floor. “Just like that, you’ll beg me to send you over the edge, but I won’t let you be satisfied so easily.” 

On God and all his subjects, if he did not cease his filth you were going to come onto the floor by his mere words. You could tell Chris noticed, almost reading your mind as the ghost of a smirk widened. “Already afraid, love?”

Love. 

Dear, fucking God.

“You see, ____,” he muttered, leading you to the final round of the song, the steps of the dance going faster. “I won’t let you be satiated with just my fingers.”

And as he broke his hold on you, twirling you with his tattooed hand, he pulled you to him, one last time, crushing you against his granite chest. 

His eyes bore into yours when the last string of the violin wailed around the hall. All you could see was pure, unadulterated desire.

“I will have you writhing with my cock.”

Your eyes never left Chris’ as the music finally came to a close, gaze blurring at the dark promise. Applause scattered around the ballroom, yet your hands stayed upon his arm, the other enveloped in his.

You caught the words once more under his thumb. NON DUCOR DUCO.

Indeed you do.

“Chris,” you breathed out, waiting for him to let you go. He did no such thing.

Feeling a few suspicious eyes on you, your feet backed away from the man, hands escaping the feeling he emitted underneath your touch. 

A whine threatened to escape you when you saw his desire had not dampened. His hands shook, only slightly, and your stomach erupted into a million butterflies, journeying lower and lower. 

You wanted him. You wanted him so badly you feared you would faint on the dance floor. 

Excusing yourself, you hastened your footsteps, sending a few smiles to passerbys as you picked up a flute of champagne, hurrying down long hallways, catching a few couples leaning towards each other. When you found a grand wooden cabinet beside another door, no doubt a guest room, you slumped next to it, breathing loud and ragged, too affected by a certain man’s eyes and the hidden intentions underneath. You drank the entire champagne in one gulp, propping the flute on a servant’s tray as he rushed by.

“____!”

Gasping, you turned to the source of the voice. The voice which filled you with such unexplainable hunger you had to clench your thighs as it drew nearer.

Footsteps thudded against the carpet, and you squirmed at the sight of Chris Bang, storming towards you with a ferocity which had your knees near buckling.

“Where,” he began, voice an octave lower as he stood not a foot from you, smacking his hands against the wall, caging you with his presence. “Were you trying to lead me?”

“Somewhere where they cannot see us,” you responded, excitement clear in your voice. The ballroom chatter was still within your range, so technically, anyone could wonder down these halls, look over the cabinet and catch you both. 

The throbbing inside you didn’t particularly care. 

“And what do you want me to do,____,” he murmured, and his voice was glazed with pure lust,  “Which the world cannot see?”

“I…” slight shame tried to course through your body but the overflowing desire was too strong. Not when your tongue was not afraid to voice what was in your heart the moment you first saw him. “I want you to do all those things you said. I want you to ruin me.”

And perhaps that was all he needed, when Christopher Bang pressed his lips against yours and answered your prayers.

He was instantly rewarded with your surprised whine, drowned out by the movement of his mouth as his hands left the wall, holding onto your face. His thumbs caressed your cheeks as he led the fiery kiss, opening your mouth to let the little noises escape.

“Chris,” you tried to rasp out, but his lips refused once more as he tilted your head, gaining full access and truly discovering the sheer pleasure oozing from the swell of your lips. God, he had gone through every experience which gave him a sense of thrill, but the kiss he shared with you brought him a new, foreign high — as if he tried the drugs he had seen on the streets for the first time, and becoming addicted on the first dose. 

You broke the kiss, gasping for air as the two of you shared a carnal gaze, chests rising at an unsteady rhythm. Chris was ruthless, only sparing you for a few seconds before pouncing back in on your mouth, this time tongue playing along, asking to be let inside and slide along the inner workings. You would have been a fool to refuse him.

The moment you opened your lips for him his tongue slithered inside, sliding it along the roof of your mouth, while his hands left your face and instead gripped onto your waist, driving you further against the wall, snuffing out any distance which dared come between you and him.

A slightly moan bubbled within your throat when he began to roughen your lips, capturing your tongue before closing the seam of your mouth within his own, repeating the action until you didn’t know whether you were sane or absolutely fucking crazy.

You were sure straight after when one of his hands began sliding down. Down. He hurriedly broke the kiss, letting out an angry groan at the never ending skirts which met with his fingers. “Fuck this dress,” he cursed as he descended a little, peppering kisses upon the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your neck, trailing until he found the hem of your skirts.

Bunching them up with his one hand, he lifted the fabric, baring your legs to the dimmed chandelier light from the main hall. His hand trailed right up to your core, a single layer hiding it from Chris’ fingers. The poor, soaked fabric could not ever compete, when the criminal, with a single finger as he scattered kisses upon your face, hooked under the lacey underwear, sliding it down your thighs. So much desperation lurked he did not even bother to slide it down to your ankles,  a chuckle rasping out of him as his fingers skimmed your upper thighs to find them dripping with the suppressed arousal.

“My poor, poor, darling,” he whispered in a menacing tone, the other hand caressing your face, “Couldn’t contain yourself for me?”

“Ch-chan,” you heard yourself say, because at this point your soul was not present, probably lurking in seventh heaven where this man was taking you. 

Hearing his name on your slurred mouth only had him plunging the first finger inside you. 

You let out an obscenely loud moan, which was immediately followed by hushing. “Don’t make a sound,” he demanded, smiling slyly at your whimpering, “Or else I stop. Understand?”

You could not nod fast enough, and he huffed out a laugh before sliding the second finger in, rubbing against your slit, drawing circles upon your throbbing skin, testing the rather sticky waters of you and your fucked out state. 

Satisfied, he delved the two fingers in deeper, pulsating against your walls until they hit a certain spot which had you crying out in pleasure. Chris’ heavy lidded warning flashed in his eyes.

You nearly cried when he began to slide his fingers out over your moaning, your hand immediately stopping him from pulling out further. “Ch-Chan,” you pleaded, pleaded like the whores you heard on the docks, but you didn’t care, did not give a single fuck when those fingers needed to be inside you again. “Chan, please, I’m sorry—”

“One more fuck up, ____, and these—” his fingers plunged back into you once more, hitching you upwards with the sheer force, “—will be back out.”

Nodding hastily, you left your hand on his wrist. Chris continued to work so deliciously inside you that it took every ounce of strength left in you not to bring the manor down with your moaning. The whimpering could not be contained, but the criminal let that slide, finding great contentment every time you begged for more.

He curled his slender fingers, acquainting himself with that same bloody spot which had you seeing stars. Your hands gripped onto his neck for stability, nails digging into his shirt. How you wanted it off, along with all the damned layers he adorned.

The way he played with your sweet spot had you feeling heavy, a pleasured ball of pain forming at your lower back. You knew you were being led to an edge, an edge you could not, did not want to escape, and when you pulled away from Chris, looking into his eyes, he instantly understood.

“Oh my, love,” he simpered, his free hand thumbing your cheek. “Does someone want to get fucked against the wall? When I’m not even finished with them yet?”

Tears lined your eyes, cunt throbbing almost painfully around his fingers. “Chan, I’m going to—ah!” you cut off, closing your eyes as you barely held on to your last grips of sanity. “Chan.”

Your weakened, fucked out demeanour had the most dangerous man in London fearing for his own senses. He wished nothing more than you screaming his name for the whole city to hear, and with you, looking at him like that…

Oh, he was definitely going to drive you over the edge.

Christopher Bang nearly carried out his promise when a shrill call interrupted you two. 

“CHRIS! ____!”

“WHERE ARE YOU—?”

Your lust-glazed stare cracked as you blinked. “Chan,” you said his name, but the man let out an enraged roar. You felt the hollow emptiness when those golden fingers were pulled out of you, sticky residue coating his skin. The footsteps grew closer, the volume of the shouting increasing. 

Chris brought out a white handkerchief, cleaning your mess on his fingers rather aggressively. “I’m going to fucking kill them,” he guttered out, making your legs tremble. To your utmost misery you felt the orgasm, so close before, fading from existence, and you made a silent vow to break Jisung and Changbin’s legs the moment all of this was over.

Speaking of the Devil, the two hastened, opening all doors and closing them till the two stumbled upon the both of you, infuriated and worryingly turned on.

Changbin looked at the deflated expression on both of yours faces. “Chris? ____?” His eyes narrowed, trying to work out the reasons for the slight electric atmosphere he suddenly entered in. “Are you both...alright?”

“Perfectly,” the man answered in a ragged hiss, sliding on his gloves again, smoothing over his raven locks. “Now why the fuck are you both here?”

The two boys did not understand their leader’s anger. Choosing to let the snipe slide, Jisung said, “We’ve caught Carter.”

That seemed to send you and Chris back in reality. Well, not really, when your core still throbbed, the pleasure fading with each passing second.

“Where is he?” Chris flattened out his coat. “Where are the documents?”

Changbin brought out a small file from inside his waistcoat, holding it out for the former. “Right here.”

Chris took the file, skimming through the contents. His previously angered expression relaxed, just a fraction, and he held onto it as he set his powerful gaze on you all. 

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

The four of you managed to slip away easily, you trying your hardest to fix yourself after the whole fiasco in the hallway. Your heart was still running a mile per minute, refusing to calm as your mind relived the events. The original carriage which you all arrived in was now accompanied with another one, with a dark figure hunched over from the window’s view.

“We threw the giant fucker in another carriage,” Changbin said, laughing as he recalled the takedown with Jisung. “Man could not believe he was failing!”

Chris ignored his story, turning to you all as he stood before Carter’s carriage. “You three, take the free one,” he ordered, his eyes rooted on you. “I will journey home with him.”

“But Chris,” you began, taking a step towards him, “Let me come with you.”

You caught a glimpse of the desire which swirled in his eyes, not long ago, and perhaps that was why he held your arm in his now gloved hand. 

“Go,” he only said. “I have a few things to say to him alone.”

After letting you go, nodding at the boys behind you, Chris Bang stepped inside the first carriage, slamming the door shut. The metal wheels screeched as the whole thing began to move, accelerating away.

You watched the carriage fade from view, Jisung and Changbin stepping beside you.

“What happened, ____?” the former asked, the other trying to comfort you with his gaze. 

Silence was their only answer, as you turned on your heel, climbing inside your designated ride and watched the stars twinkle from the window.

The two members of the gang really tried their best.

As you all journeyed home without your leader, the pair told their tale of how they took down Carter and his men, Jisung adding exaggerated gasps as Changbin demonstrated each kill he thrust upon his victims. You offered them a few laughs, giving them your attention, but really your mind was somewhere else, specifically a midnight-tainted criminal who nearly brought you your undoing.

You were insane. Insane as you thought of him, insane as you remembered how wonderfully he had you writhing over him, just by his fingers. The mindless pondering alone had your cunt pulsating, and you deserved an award for how unaffected you acted with your friends. 

Soon, the carriage slowed to a stop, and you perked up, not realising you had already arrived home. 

You waited for the boys to exit before you stepped out of the carriage, the only light on the docks emitting from lamps and the night sky, reflected on the surface of the river. The first carriage was already there when your feet met the concrete floor, and when you turned to the man who reigned in your mind he had his signature expression, an aloof distaste as he walked over to his gang. 

“Jisung, Changbin,” he called, and the boys responded. “Lock the carriage door,” he ordered, jerking his chin towards his transport. “We will bring him out in the morning.”

“Chris, should we not throw him in the cellar?” Changbin glared at Carter’s direction. “Bastard might escape.”

He only slid his hands in his pockets, you catching the dried blood on his gloves. “Oh, don’t worry about that,” he said, striking a step towards the building. “He’s not going to disturb us tonight. I can promise you that.”

Jisung cursed low along with you, only watching the man walk back to the bedrooms. Bidding goodnight to your friends, you followed Chris’ trail, opening the door and stepping inside the hallway.

You saw him before his bedroom door, bringing out a rusted key. His eyes slid to you as your feet brought you to your entrance. You looked back, waiting as Chris unlocked his room and began to enter.

He turned back, something dark and twisted still lurking in his eyes.

You waited, so patiently at the words you wished to hear, of him finally ruining you.

Instead, you received something else entirely.

“Goodnight, ____.”

And closed the door behind him.

Your heart dropped. 

Fell to the floor, and shattered under the criminal’s bloodied boots. 

The light of the hallway flickered as you stood rooted to the doorway, eyes staring at Chris’ door as if looking at it hard enough would get him to change his mind.

What did you know. The man is not led by exterior forces. Only by his own will.

When you gathered up the strength to the slam the door shut, you slumped against the wood, hating yourself for the tears which threatened to break the lines of your eyes. This was pathetic — utterly disgusting that you were about to cry over his decision.

But you could not help it. You were so enraptured by him. Hell, you were ready to throw yourself in the fires of damnation for him, as he whispered filth all the while rutting against you. Why had that suddenly changed?

“Argh!” You screamed, stomping over to the lamp, light now long extinguished. You relit it’s spark, illuminating the room once more, and set it on the stool before recklessly plucking out the pearls in your hair, a few tears daring to trail down your cheeks. 

Fuck him. Fuck him for making you so rattled. Fuck him for having that effect on you.

You looked into your mirror and cursing yourself for the disheveled appearance. Again, the consequences for letting yourself fall for him.

“To hell with you Bang Chan,” you cursed. 

You were about to untie your dress when your bedroom door was nearly ripped off its hinges. 

Flinching, you grabbed the dagger on your dresser, raised to cut down whoever stupid enough to barge in on an assassin at midnight.

You were met with Christopher Bang. 

And the disorder he brought with him.

Chaos reigned in his figure; his tousled locks, his star-struck expression, his rolled-up sleeves and his pandemonic eyes, all working together and against each other to create the man you had never seen in your life. 

Good God. What had happened to him?

“Chan?” You got out, dagger now brought down. He said not a single word in response as he slammed the door shut, hard enough for the entirety of London to hear. 

Instead, he imprisoned you with his stare, almost giving you his chaos. The chaos you had always shared with him since the moment he picked you off the streets.

No, he said not one word — only took the steps needed to march towards you. You could only watch with widening eyes when he grabbed your face in his rugged hands and collided his lips against yours. 

You did not even hesitate to comply, hands grabbing onto his shirt, pulling him as close as you possibly could, so afraid that he would disappear from your grip if you dared let go. With the way he moved his mouth along yours, however, already opening up the familiar workings, you had a feeling he was not going to abandon you now.

When he broke away, breathing already erratic, his hands slid down to your neck, thumbs caressing the length of your throat. “I couldn’t,” he started, and he was sprinkling kisses all over your face. “I couldn’t leave.”

“I was scared, Chan,” you confessed, fisting the material harder. “I thought you truly did.”

His eyes focused on you. Within the turmoil, there was a promise. “Never,” he whispered, leaning in. “Never again.”

And suddenly his lips were on you, and the desperation was so rooted he nearly stole the very breath from your lungs. The sheer intensity, the longing implied broke your heart to the point you attached yourself to him, wrapping your arms around him and refusing to ever let him go.

The rather soft kiss began to heat up, as Chris broke the seam of your lips, swirling your tongue in his, already receiving incoherent praise from deep down your throat, making the man smile against his lips as he continued. 

His hands slid further down, right to the small of your back, where he began to untie all the little bows he created for you at the dawn of the evening, the little touches of fire singeing you still. It was fascinating how effortlessly he loosened all the laces, fingers sliding through the patterns until one by one they fluttered down, until the dark red dress slackened around your chest. 

A small gasp escaped you as Chris, while creating a trail of kisses down your jaw, right down to your neck, grabs the dress from your sides, hitching it down until it falls to the floor. Leaving you practically naked save for the scraps covering your dangerously soiled underwear. 

Chris paused from his ravishing, taking a much too long look at your skin, glowing from the lamp light, and before he could stare any longer you brought your arms to your chest, suddenly becoming a little too embarassed to let him see you at your most vulnerable. 

The supposedly unfeeling criminal, however, nearly broke into a smile at your flustered nature, and grabbed onto your wrists, opening the lock to your breasts, peaked by his actions, and the thought of what was to come.

The soiled underwear was about to drip at this point.

“You’re exquisite,” was all he said, making you almost burst into tears at the praise. You pressed a long, heart shattering kiss upon his mouth, and he responded perfectly, hands sliding to your naked waist, each drum of his fingers like a tug towards a dangerous edge. 

Things began to take a turn, open mouthed kisses being plastered on the skin of your throat as the man pushed you back, further and further until the back of your knees hit the bed, stopping you in his tracks. His grip on your waist directed downwards, planting you on the mattress as his mouth descended to your collarbone, down and down until he licked your peaked nipple in a way that had you moaning obscenely loud. His husky chuckle resonated along your skin, still not pausing his trail until he hit the end of the dip of your cunt, barricaded by the fabric. 

The moment he looked up at you, that alone made you nearly undo yourself. By the increasing volume of your breathing, Chris seemed to realise so too.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he got out, watching you whimper at each touch caressing your hips. “Already about to come when I haven’t even done anything?”

“Ch-Chan,” you pleaded, wishing for those damned fingers of his to plunge inside of you. The son of a bitch was taking his time, making you wait knowing it pained you to stay like this. “Chan—”

His name on your tongue had him gritting his teeth, hands on each of your side grabbing onto your lace, and sliding your underwear down, all the way till it fell free from your legs and threw it across the room, forgotten when Chris parted his mouth at the moistened treasure between your legs. 

Those roughened hands steeled their grip on your thighs, pulling you closer till you sat right on the edge of the bed, cunt mere inches from his face. You could not even comprehend the insanity of this situation, that the hidden fantasies you dreamed of shamelessly were morphing into reality right before your eyes.

“So, so pretty,” he murmured, blowing a little air on your slick folds, earning himself a sucked in breath from his truly. “So pretty and wet, and all because of me.”

You let out a ragged breath, words of filth sounding so foreign on his tongue. It was not like he didn’t talk like the sailors living near you on the docks, but these dirty words and dirtier intentions, now all directed at you, made you feel so flustered, in a wondrous way you could not possibly describe. All you wanted was for him to keep singing this filth till you blacked out.

Chris, with the force of his hands, spread your thighs a little wider, and without warning broke his tongue from the seam of his lips, planting it upon your slit and moving it slowly over the surface.

That alone made you cry out in ecstasy.

But that was only a test, a taking on of foreign surroundings before truly welcoming himself, and by God, did he welcome himself in as more than a guest, when that tongue slid deeper and performed strokes which had you seeing all the stars in the universe. 

What was first slow teasing then became a starved hunt, tongue relishing in the sweet arousal you emitted, lapping it up brazenly as if he had been wanting to do this for a long, long time. Your blubbering grew louder with every lick, fisting the sheets behind you with such ferocity you were sure they’d tear. 

And if that wasn’t painstakingly enough, the man spread your legs a little wider, his tattooed hand, two fingers out, sliding straight inside you, making you mewl at the way they tightened they walls they journeyed in. Curling, just like they did earlier in the evening, they took their time finding the certain little spot which had you bringing the house down with your cries. 

“Ch-Chan, please, please, I’m going to—AH!” You rasped out, when the said-criminal found the sweet little undoing of yours and stroked your fingers along the sensitive spot, making that bundle of pleasure resonating in your back appear once more, like a low throbbing begging to be released.

His tongue had not given you any breaks, still working ruthlessly along your clit and you cried for him to give you that sweet release, to just let you come but he had not let you be satisfied this easily. No, he wanted you writhing underneath him, wanted the final ruination to be from underneath his trousers, angered as it outlined against his leather.

You craned your head back, screaming out his name because you knew all else had abandoned you. “Chan!” Looking down, his mouth very much occupied with your cunt. Your orgasm was reaching, was on the very edge, and if he kept working on you like this he was on his way to taste the consequences of his actions.

Something about that image made you want it as a reality with a worryingly strong intensity. 

“Chan, I’m going to—” you were about to warn but were interrupted by a squeeze of your thigh, done by yours truly as if he knew. And as if he knew, the two fingers began pumping much faster, harmonising along with his tongue, and the two actions at once, fucking you with that rapidity was so pleasurable that, with the first earth-shattering cry of the night, you were driven over the edge, releasing your orgasm straight into the criminal’s face.

You felt the work of his fingers slow down, along with his tongue, that with one, final lick, he retreated from your cunt, fingers still inside you as they comforted your aching core with slow, soothing strokes. 

When he looked up at you, though, with your residue mostly upon his mouth, scattered on his cheeks, and basically a bit of everywhere, that sight alone nearly caused you to come all over again. 

Perhaps that was his intentions. 

Because when he licked his lips clean of your mess, ever so slowly, as if enjoying your orgasm like a man starved, you instantly saw in his eyes that this night was not over yet. 

“Already so good, so wonderful,” he mused, slipping his fingers out, both hands now resting on your thighs. “Coming so quick even though I had been saving for the last.”

You knew exactly what he meant, but still had the nerve to ask, “The last?”

He raised a groomed brow, and that gesture was so breathtaking, more so when he raised himself slightly, so he knelt eye-level to you. “Don’t act oblivious, love,” he mused, leaving your thighs to your disappointment, but quickly diminishing when his fingers worked on the buttons of his shirt, slowly popping upon, each patch of skin being revealed like a show of your own. “We both know this isn’t how it’s going to end.”

Shivers crawled down your spine, but you only watched as the man finished undoing his shirt, peeling it off of him and throwing it amongst the other clothing. You nearly let spit trail down your chin at the sheer finery of his muscle alone, sharpened at his arms, his chest all the way down to his v-line, which dipped dangerously low. With no small amount of pride, you also noticed the large, angry outline of Chris’ cock, begging to be set free. 

The man caught you blatantly staring, and a shit-eating grin twisted his glistening lips. “You may do the honours if you’re so keen.”

Blushing, you mumbled a shut up, but was captured by Chris’ lips, tasting your own arousal on his tongue, as his grip on you led you further into the bed, while you fumbled on the buttons of his trousers, popping them open one by one when you broke from the kiss, your turn to shower him with more along the veiny expanse of his neck as you pulled his trousers down, tossing them among the pile.

When you saw the slight-stained underwear of his, you felt the familiar throbbing again, so affected by how you affected him. Noticing your apparent pride, he pressed his lips upon you in a searing kiss, peeling off any last scrap of clothing and forgetting that too among the other clothing.

And by God, when Chris Bang’s cock escaped from his underthings your mouth actually watered at the sheer size it bore. Husky laughter resonated in your ears, and you flushed the colour of blood when he caught you staring much too audaciously than he would have imagined. 

“Already fantasising about my cock?” He slurred, the tattooed hand curling stray hairs from your sweat-slick, flushed face. The way you scrunched your nose, clearly flustered by his comment, melted his stone cold heart, as he caressed your cheeks with his fingers. 

You did not answer him, only whispering his name along his skin, waiting and waiting for the man to drive that force home inside you. “Chan,” you murmured, and the name you kept saying like a religious chant, like it was the only word that mattered, was what brought him to grip his cock, directing it against your entrance, the still slick folds which grew more wet every time the tip caressed the sensitive skin. “Chan, please—”

“Please what?” He demanded, demanded because he needed to hear you precisely want you wanted. The words he practically prayed would be on your tongue the moment he kissed you for the first time this evening.

Obliging him was like second nature. “Please fuck me, Chan,” you breathed out, holding onto his shoulders, knowing you were going to need a hell of a good grip for what was about to arrive. “Please, just ruin me with your cock.”

A malicious smile curled upon his lips. “Good, good girl,” he purred, and began the descend which you dreamed of the very first night you realised you were ridiculously attracted to him.

His cock slid inside you, and with a soul-wrenching whine, was perfectly snug as the journey went on, and on, and on, until you were certain you could not take anymore, despite the man retaining a few inches. He was slow at first, making sure you were not going to be pained by this action. Although your nails dug into the granite muscle of his shoulders, you only egged him on. “M-more,” you only said, and he readily obliged, until you felt him all around you in your body, as if he had filled you up to the brim. 

“Ready?” He asked, and when you nodded, he rested his forehead against yours as gently, he began to pull out. 

You nearly whined at the lack of inches filling you up, but then he brought his cock back in, creating this hypnotic rhythm which was so unimaginably ethereal you felt yourself float amongst the clouds. Each thrust out and thrust in was a drive in and out of reality, with Chris Bang holding the tether of your survival, pulling you in and out of his mercy. 

Gradually, he began to fasten, panting as his drove into you with more force, and when the momentum hardened, you felt your soul leave your body. His cock created wonders for you, having you scream in unimaginable pleasure, and driving your nails into his back was not enough, your lewd moaning not enough given to his sheer skill, his pure simplicity in bringing his cock back and front which had you seeing stars. Hell, Christopher Bang showed you undiscovered universes, leading you across galaxies and unfamiliar cosmos, each thrust in a different vision, and when he lifted your leg a little higher for more access, you feared that you would wake the whole docks with your groaning, for this criminal, this heartless criminal provided you with the whole universe with the simple strokes of his cock inside you, and all you could offer him were screams. 

Even your reactions were pure Beethoven to his ears, relishing in your fucked out state as he gave you all he asked, driving you to the edge of the world. You, finally, clashed your lips against his, offering him sloppy, open mouthed kisses all over his face and neck, and that alone had him greeting his teeth, knowing his own release was near. You were going to die if he was not given the same pleasure as you, so you reacted with each of his touches, each of his thrusts, him practically pistoning you upon this bed which very much would break. 

“Ch...Chan…” you grated out, eyes blurring, vision completely fucked, “I’m...I-I—”

“I—fuck,” he too got out, for your last love mark painted onto to the curve of his neck nearly had him ruined. “I’m going to come, too, love—”

“Chan!” You whined, because the throbbing was there, and was so close that if the man did not send that last thrust home then it was all for nothing, everything that had ever happened will all be for nothing.

But he listened. The man who did not listen to anyone or anything listened, and pounded his cock so hard in approval that it had you crying out to the cosmos as you finally let go, orgasm spilling out from whatever space the residue could find between his cock. Your own release had Chris groaning louder than he had even done this entire time, praising you unconditionally, until the filth was cut off by a low curse, with his own release barrelling into you, some joining your spilled mess upon the sheets.

Chris let out a shuddering breath, slowly crossing his movement inside you. Carefully, when you stopped digging your nails into his shoulders, he pulled out, reaching for the blanket untouched and bringing it over you and him before collapsing beside you. Both of you breathed as if you had held your oxygen for a thousand years, chests rising unevenly. 

A silence hung over you two, heavy yet not uncomfortable, lingering in your bedroom. Chris sat up a little, using your pillows behind him as comfort as he raked his hair back, sweat-slick all over, much like you. You held the blanket right up to your chest, hair in disarray, much like your heart. The poor organ threatened to collapse at the events.

Sneakily, you caught a glance at the greatest criminal in London, staring off at the distance, mouth set in a concentrated line. He looked dashing even in his post-sex state, the lines of his chest still stark against his sweat. You truly had never seen a man this beautiful in your life. 

He turned his head to you, catching your staring, and when you tried to look away he captured his chin with his fingers, making you meet his fierce stare. Although dark, the lust had satiated, and instead held passive affection. Well, you hoped it did.

“Why do you still look away?” He demanded in a low, tired voice.

You tried to slide your gaze to the lamp, but was too bewitched by his midnight eyes. “Because you’re beautiful, Chan,” you answered, feeling the blood rush to your face. 

He cocked his head, damp curls sticking to his face. “You say that as if you are not,” he countered. 

You did not say anything then. Even so, he received your answer. 

“____,” he said in a low tone. The grip on your chin loosened, and the hand went to your cheeks, cupping your face. “You are truly flawless. Don’t make me have to make you believe that.”

A small smile hinted at your lips. “And what if I still don’t?”

His answering smirk sent butterflies tumbling once again. After a moment, as if hesitating, he then snaked his arm around you, pulling you closer to him. You were surprised when his one hand fully encircled you, while the other hand, the tattooed hand, rested upon your head, stroking your hair with his slender fingers. You did not pull away, was never going to, only wrapping your arm across his chest. 

It was the first time you had ever seen Christopher Bang hug someone in his life.

“Chan?” You asked.

“Hmm?”

“Why did you get that tattoo?”

He paused for a minute, never ceasing his fingers intertwined in your locks. After a small sigh, which you felt beneath your own fingertips, he said, “It is simply something I live by. 

“Non ducor duco. No one will lead me, love. Only myself.”

You pondered over the roots of this phrase, of the significance for the man you lay with. 

“Good,” you said after a while. “I wouldn’t want anyone leading you either.”

With that, you gave into the soothing movement of Chris’ fingers, working lazily in your hair. And while you dozed off to sleep, the criminal mastermind of the biggest city in the world pondered some more, specifically over his motto.

NON DUCOR DUCO. A phrase which had stayed true for so long no one could ever change it.

But after tonight, as you slowly dozed off under Chris’ caresses, he wondered whether there isn’t one person he wouldn’t mind being led by. 

And as he stole a soft glance at the specific person beside him, he knew. 

He knew that although he will be led by no man, there is one woman who he would, to his own shock, happily be led for. 

So, with that new, and slightly terrifying revelation, Christopher Bang went to sleep, knowing that someone had fucked with him and gotten away. 

And he was willingly going to let it happen. 

[secretsickysideblog]

dumb lucky

"“you know my favorite color?” bucciarati slurs, brows furrowing. “anyway, it also came in purple, and black, and ivory, so I bought all of them, and uh…” “that’s cute,” bucciarati smiles, and abbacchio nearly dies at the way he looks while smiling unabashedly, weak as it may be right now. “you know my favorite color.”'

a mission takes bucciarati and abbacchio all the way to a town in piedmont where bucciarati finds himself fever-riddled in the midst of a snowstorm. abbacchio finds silver linings.

(sicktember day 1 - fever)

read under the cut!

It’s only tradition for things to go wrong for Passione. 

Well, perhaps that’s a lie--normally, they get dumb lucky. But this means that when things go wrong, they go incredibly wrong in multiple ways at once. It’s only fair for the amount of times the gang has narrowly escaped death by the skin of their teeth. And Abbacchio is grateful that neither he nor Bucciarati are running the risk of death right now; it could be much, much worse.

But this mission could certainly be going much better. After all, Abbacchio never thought he’d be buying fever reducers in a little town in Piedmont, Italy as a part of the job of Neapolitan Mafioso. He hadn’t expected to be led all the way to Piedmont in the first place. 

Easy mission my ass, Giovanna, he laments internally, rolling his eyes as he compares the prices between on and off-brand fever reducers. Abbacchio doesn’t usually bother to buy things like this, but Bucciarati’s fever--yes, a fever that had managed to swell up to a whopping 39 degrees overnight while on a mission--definitely needs to be treated. 

He settles on both bottles, and he grabs a pack of water bottles, too. Abbacchio peruses the shelves, considering what else Bucciarati might need. He’d rather not come trudging out through this snow again if he could help it; it started coming down last night and hasn’t shown any sign of stopping since. He grabs another thermometer, a can of soup, and he’s about to head to the register when he spots something else that catches his eye.

It’s a large blanket in blue--Bucciarati’s favorite shade of blue (not that Abbacchio bothers to remember things like his Capo’s favorite color), and god, does it look soft. His gaze wanders to the window. Snow falls in clumps, kicked up into a white mist by the wind, and Abbacchio could shiver just looking at it. He does shiver thinking about the short walk back to the motel through that storm. 

Abbacchio sighs, runs his fingertips over the inviting fleece. A blanket couldn’t hurt. 

He grabs it and tucks it under the arm without the basket only to spot that there’s another of the same in purple. And another, in ivory? Abbacchio isn’t someone tempted by luxuries, but blankets in the cold seem like a necessity. 

So he picks up both. Because Bucciarati has to sweat out the fever anyway, right? He’s too out of it to be angry, anyway. 

Abbacchio lugs the three heavy blankets and the basket of various other supplies to the register, fishing around in his pocket for his wallet. The cashier looks over his selection as she rings up and bags each object, smiling fondly. 

“Taking good care of someone, I see.”

Abbacchio huffs, lips quirking upward to a ghost of a smile. “Yeah, I guess I am. It’s about time he lets me.” 

“These blankets are on sale, you know. Buy one and the other is half-off,” and, in an expertly-crafted manner of egging him into it, the cashier finishes her sell with, “Everyone loves a good blanket. Perfect to cuddle up under.”

Abbacchio doesn’t anticipate growing the balls to ‘cuddle-up’ with Bucciarati, but something about the idea sways him into it. He stares at the blanket shelf in consideration for a long moment before giving in and grabbing a fourth, this one in black. 

The cashier is, clearly, proud of herself. Abbacchio can’t find it in himself to get as annoyed by this as usual. He did fall for her marketing scheme, after all. Can’t bitch about it if he gave in. 

Altogether, he walks out of the store with five bags slung on his arms, four of which are occupied by heavy fleece and tied off to avoid any of the snowfall. His boots feel like weights as he trudges through planes of muddy white, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck. His hands are freezing--he wishes he’d bought gloves. 

When he finally returns to the motel room, Bucciarati is curled up on the bed. He looks just about the same as he did when Abbacchio left which is, admittedly, like shit. His hair, lacking its typical braid, fell in uneven layers wherever it wasn’t sticking to sweat-soaked skin. The only real color in his face is across his cheeks in bright, splotchy red, and though his eyes are closed now, they’ve been glazed over all morning. 

Abbacchio shakes his head in disapproval, wondering how Bucciarati managed to just ignore this, because he knows damn well it didn’t just spark overnight. He must’ve been feeling at least vaguely unwell before they’d embarked on this (unexpectedly) lengthy journey. Abbacchio tells himself, as he has every time he starts thinking about how his Capo sucks at self-care, that he’ll just bitch at him about it later; criticizing a sick person is mean, and besides, there’s not enough cognizance in his fever-addled head to comprehend annoyance right now anyway. 

He unties his scarf, shrugs off his coat, and unbags the items on the small coffee table in the room. Bucciarati stirs into half-lucidity, as told by the mix of a groan and a whine that slips from him after a bit of shifting around. Abbacchio looks over to him, seeing his hazy blues blink open, and he immediately grabs the bottle of fever reducers to force down his throat now while he’s just awake enough to swallow and not awake enough to protest.

“Here,” he holds out a bottle of water and two of the pills for Bucciarati to take, which he does after taking a second to process the command. He moves sluggishly, but he manages to get the pills down and put the water bottle on the nightstand. Abbacchio feels his forehead with the back of his hand, frowning at how much he’s burning still.

He goes to pull away. Bucciarati doesn’t let him, grabbing his wrist and holding his hand there.

“What are you doing?”

“Cold,” he mumbles, letting his eyes flutter closed again. “Feels nice.”

Abbacchio opens his mouth, closes it. Thanks the lord above that Bucciarati can’t see the way his cheeks heat up as though he’s contracted a fever. After a moment of hesitance, Abbacchio brings both of his hands up to cup Bucciarati’s cheeks, and the other man sighs contentedly. 

“Well, if it’s cold you want, maybe you should go take a nap in the snow,” Abbacchio jokes.

“Hm,” Bucciarati takes a breath. “Perhaps I should.” 

Abbacchio stares down at Bucciarati. At the way his eyelashes, dark and thick, fan out across his cheeks. At his lips, still pretty and pink and miraculously not very chapped. Even now, sick as a dog, Bucciarati is gorgeous. Abbacchio could watch him forever, he’s sure, but then he realizes how creepy he’s being and abruptly pulls away. Bucciarati’s eyes open with a dejected look to them, and Abbacchio reminds himself that it’s not because it’s his hands, it’s because his hands are cold and Bucciarati is delusional with fever.

“Uh, so, I got you two kinds of fever reducer, and you’re gonna take it whether you like it or not,” Abbacchio starts to say, clearing his throat. Bucciarati hums, half-listening. “I got water. A can of soup, if you get hungry, but since you just woke up I’m sure you’re not yet.”

Bucciarati doesn’t respond, so Abbacchio assumes he’s right. He’ll make him eat something later. 

“And,” Abbacchio unties the other four bags, “I know you’re not looking to get warmer, but fevers have to be sweat out, right? I got blankets. They were on sale.”

Bucciarati almost whines, though it’s quiet, subtle. Abbacchio opts to ignore it, because it does nothing good for his heart. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but look, it’s your favorite color,” Abbacchio holds up the blanket in proud display. Bucciarati looks at it, but it’s clear that he’s not fully seeing it. 

“You know my favorite color?” Bucciarati slurs, brows furrowing.

“Anyway, it also came in purple, and black, and ivory, so I bought all of them, and uh…”

“That’s cute,” Bucciarati smiles, and Abbacchio nearly dies at the way he looks while smiling unabashedly, weak as it may be right now. “You know my favorite color.” 

Abbacchio takes the tags off the plush fabric and chucks it at Bucciarati. Bucciarati, as expected, makes no move to catch it. It takes him a minute to slip the fleece off of his head and onto his lap. This process is repeated four more times as a mountain of plush fabric piles up on the bed--the singular bed, which Abbacchio would be incredibly nervous about if this was a year ago, but they’ve been stuck in the ‘unfortunate’ one-bed scenario too many times for him to care anymore. 

“This is...so many,” Bucciarati murmurs, staring down at the pile. He runs his thumb along the hem of the blue one. “They are soft, though.”

“I don’t know if you can feel how cold it is in here, much less out there,” Abbacchio gestures towards the storm just beyond the windows, “but we needed them. I don’t know how long we’re gonna be stuck here, between your fever and the bastard we’re after.”

Bucciarati nods, absently petting the blankets. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Falling ill,” Bucciarati says it like it’s the most obvious reason to apologize in the world. “We’re stuck here. It’s my fault.”

Abbacchio rolls his eyes. “Stop apologizing for things you can’t control.”

Bucciarati looks like he wants to protest, but then his expression turns confused as if his own thought process doesn’t make sense to him anymore. Abbacchio snorts at the sight and shakes his head before climbing into bed beside the other man and urging him to lay back down.

“I’m all sweaty.”

“I don’t care,” Abbacchio pulls one of the many blankets around them up to his shoulders, and another about halfway above that. He lets Bucciarati kick the others aside. “You’re warm, and I’m cold. I’m finding silver linings.”

Bucciarati chuckles a little. If he were any more coherent, he’d make a joke about Abbacchio’s usual pessimistic cynicism being an act; the latter is almost grateful, at that thought, for the fever. The wind howls outside as the storm picks up. It’s definitely not an ideal situation, but it could be much worse.

Bucciarati turns to nuzzle his face into the crook of Abbacchio’s neck. Tentatively, Abbacchio wraps an arm around him.

Maybe this was just dumb luck in disguise. 

[broadstbroskis]

our love lasts so long | william nylander

a/n: oh hello!! am i here with yet another childhood friends to lovers fic?? why yes, yes i am. one (mildly) based on a taylor swift song, as the title would suggest (seven, a underrated folklore BOP)? yes again. the biggest of shoutouts to anyone who let me talk about this over the past few days but especially to @brockadoodles who listened to many many things and to @danglesnipecelly for reminding me about my childhood friends to lovers brand

word count: 7k

-----

The girls are being mean to her.

They’re older than her, a lot older than her, like already in grade school, and they all have friends here already, because they’ve all been here for a while. Noah frowns. It’s not her fault her daddy just got sent here. Florida’s too hot anyway; she still doesn’t understand how this ice rink even stays cold!

She shuffles her feet along. The Christmas songs are loud and there are a lot of people here but Daddy promised he’d take her around really fast after he finished working on shooting the puck with Jake. She just has to be super patient-she thinks that’s the thing Mommy always tells her to be-while she waits and then Daddy will play with her and those stupid girls won’t even matter.

(And yes she can use that word; she just can’t tell Mommy.)

The ice feels funny, not like she’s used to back at home in Canada, but before Noah can start to look for her Mommy to ask her, someone crashes into her and they both end up on the ice.

The boy who flew into her isn’t crying so Noah sucks her lip between her teeth and fights back her tears. “Hey!” He whines over to someone and then says something she can’t understand.

“Hey!” She whines and shoves him. “You’re s’pposed to say sorry when when you hit somebody!”

“I know!” His eyes widen. The blue is a pretty blue; it’s like the ice and Noah likes it. “My sister pushed me first though.”

“Oh.” Noah says. Jake is always pushing her around and he never gets in trouble for it. It’s not fair.  “Well she should say sorry to you then.”

The boy nods in agreement, his blond hair flopping everywhere. “Yeah but she’s older so she thinks she doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to.”

Noah scowls. “So does Jake.”

The boy’s face lights up. “Well then we should be friends and we could fight them together!”

Someone else who’s going to help stop Jake from shooting pucks at her? Deal. “Okay.” Noah grins. “I’m Noah.”

He smiles back. “William.” 

-----

Willy’s at practice when he hears about the trade, the one that’s bringing Barrett Evans to the Blackhawks, and he hears it mostly because the boys think it means Jake Evans is going to join their team.

Willy’s playing a couple years up here, and there’s an argument going on during practice about if Jake’s doing the same; if he’ll join their team, how soon he’ll be able to get there if he is. That they’re more excited about the potential of Jake Evans joining this team than any discussion of his dad joining the actual Blackhawks is one of the reasons Willy likes this team so much. They’re all chill; no one cares what his dad does or where he plays. 

He’s just another one of the boys.

In about a week they find out Jake is joining their team, his mom quickly setting up a carpool to the rink with Willy’s, who is more than eager to agree, with the new baby taking up (in Willy’s opinion) too much space and time.

(What’d they need another sister for? Wasn’t two enough?)

Jake comes with two sisters of his own, another baby just like Willy’s sister, and then, even better, a dark haired girl that Willy only remembers from pictures and dreams, but a face that he recognizes instantly.

“Hey.” He taps the glass in front of where she’s sitting at his practice, writing something- probably homework. He’s supposed to do his in the car on the way to practice, Mum says so, but he never does, because he hates doing it, and like really, what’s the point if he’s going to be a famous NHL player anyway? 

Noah looks up, a little annoyed, but then her face breaks out into a smile when she sees it’s him. “William!”

“Willy.” He corrects.

She pulls a face. “Ew, like a wet willy?”

“No,” He laughs. “Like my name!”

“That’s dumb.”

“No it’s not!” It’s what everyone calls him.

Noah’s still frowning at him. “Yes it is, Will.”

“No dumber than the ark you’re named after.” He counters. If she’s going to be like that, he can play too. 

“At least I get cool animals on mine.” Noah huffs and then turns away from him, like she’s mad. 

“No hockey on it though.” Willy says and she turns back to him just to roll her eyes at him. “Not really worth it then, yeah?”

“You’re the worst.” Noah says, but she’s back to facing him and smiling again, showing off a couple missing teeth. “Don’t you do anything else?” He shakes his head, grinning. “That’s gonna change because I’m not playing hockey with you all the time.”

“Well I’m not playing dolls with you all the time.” Will says quickly. He has to do that enough with his sisters; he’s not doing anymore of it.

She rolls her eyes. “Stupid boys.” She mutters and goes back to her work.

“What does that mean?” Willy demands but before he can get an answer, his coach is calling them all back to practice and his break is done. He’s just going to have to bug her at the game tonight. 

(He does bug her at the game that night, but she annoys him right back, and by the second period, they’re laughing and grinning, friends once again).

-----

“Ok, but did you lose Alex or just like, misplace him?” Noah looks around her, searching for a head of blond hair in the crowd of people rushing around them in the mall.

“What’s the difference?” Will hisses, using her shoulder to stand on his toes, head turning as he searches for his brother.

“Like, are you actually asking because of a two language thing or are you just being a jerk because we lost your brother?”

Will glares over at him and drops down flat on his feet again, swearing as he does. “Mum’s doing to kill me.”

“Why?” Alex asks, reappearing suddenly with a soft pretzel in hand, and Noah screams, throwing her arms around him. “What happened?”

“We hate you.” Will says and Noah nods in agreement. “That’s what.”

“What’d I do?” Alex protests.

“Disappeared!” Noah cries. “With no warning.

“I told Will I was going to get a pretzel.” He defends. “He can’t listen and that’s my fault?”

Will reaches out like he’s going to pull his brother into a headlock-or worse, Noah’s not going to risk the two of them going at it like they do in their basement here in public-so she reaches out and grabs his hand, intercepting him before he can even make it to just ruffle his hair, or something. “Come on, Alex.” She teases, even as Will drops his jaw at her for stopping him. “We both know Will hears what he wants to hear.”

Alex laughs, looking as pleased as she knew he would, but Will’s jaw remains dropped. “Screw you” Will says, and because she’s still holding his one hand to keep it from going for his brother, she’s defenseless against the finger he pokes into her most ticklish spot.

“Stop!” She squirms away, or tries to- he won’t let go of her hand. “Will! Let go!”

He stops poking her side, but squeezes her hand and grins. “Nope, you chose this; now you’re stuck with me.”

“Your hand is sticky!” She whines. 

“I was testing tape.” Will grins, swinging their hands widely. “Now yours can be sticky too.”

Noah looks down at their hands, joined and still swinging wherever Will moves them. She hopes that’s all that’s on them but you never know with the DC Metro.

-----

There’s a girl giggling behind him.

Willy turns and she stops, but as soon as he turns back, she’s giggling again and this time, so is her friend.

He tugs at the blazer of his uniform, looking down at his shirt. Is his tie done funny? He’d gotten called out for that last week. But it looks fine, just like everyone else’s did earlier. He pulls out his phone. Hurry up. He sends Noah, watching the dots appear on his screen, like she’s texting back, but then she appears, right in front of him. “Finally.” He grabs her and tugs her away from this school, those girls, even more of them giggling at him.

Willy wipes at his face. Maybe there’s something on it? But nothing comes off on his hand and he frowns harder.

Noah’s biting her lip, like she’s trying not to laugh, and it only works for so long. “She has a crush on you, dummy.”

“Oh.” Willy says blankly, trying to sneak a look back at the first girl. 

“Oh,” Noah parrots. “Honest to god, Will, it’s a good thing you’re pretty.”

“Hey!” He forgets all about the girl, in favor of knocking his shoulders against hers-not hard enough to send her falling into the dirty snow of this New York suburb, but hard enough to make her laugh. “I’m athletic too!”

Noah bursts into laughter, this loud thing that’s bright and contagious and only serves to make Willy join in with her- not that he’s trying hard to stop himself. He’s always laughing when she is. “Sure bud,” She pats his arm. “You tell yourself that.”

-----

“Iced tea.” Noah hands a cup over to Will and then slides down so she’s sitting next to him, dangling her feet in the pool. It’s really too cold to go in, but that hasn’t stopped Will, who’s been swimming all afternoon on and off- and it hasn’t stopped him from pulling her in with him.

“How much sugar?” Will asks demandingly, as she rolls her eyes, like he’s not already taking a sip.

She’d normally answer with a snarky comment, just because he deserves it. But the nostalgia’s setting in; it’s been hitting her at random moments all week, and she’s inclined to just be nice to him, leaning against him as she says, “Come on, like I don’t know how you like your iced tea by now.”

Will sighs dramatically, taking her weight and pressing back against her. “Guess I’m going to have to make my own coffee now too, huh?”

“Two creams, one sugar.” Noah reminds him gently and he laughs, but it sounds kind of hollow, not at all like the honk that usually sends her into fits of giggles right along with him. It’s quiet after he stops, the only sound the pool filter a few feet away and the crickets just starting to chirp, and she hates the silence. In all their years of friendship, they’ve never been quiet people, never had to do an awkward dance while they figured out who they were each time they met. They fell right back into easy friendship, laughing and giggling, dragging each other into their favorite things and places, until one of them was leaving.

It feels different this time. “Are you really leaving?” There’d never been a doubt in her mind when her dad left DC that she’d see Will again. Maybe not for a few months, maybe not for a few years, but the day would come.

“For now.” Will shrugs. “I’m sure we’ll be back.”

“It’s Sweden.” Noah says quietly. She doesn’t have that same feeling this time. Sweden’s their home. Why would they leave? 

“It’s hockey.” Will says, like hockey, Sweden, and home- they’re all interchangeable. 

And maybe they are; hockey- the people Noah meets because of her dad’s team, the friends she’s made, Will, his family- hockey, as a concept, has been more of a home to her than any of the houses she’s known, than these temporary places she embraces every two years or so. 

But she’s been around long enough to know what comes after hockey and it’s the only thing that changes home. The offseason home becomes the main home. Dads start picking up carpool duties and volunteer coaching positions. The spotlight shifts to the kids and their dreams. 

It’s hockey and it’s Sweden and it’s home and whether they’re all different or the same, Noah knows this is the last time she’ll be seeing Will.

-----

Willy has minimal complaints about being a rookie, even if Reemer and Naz think he should have more. 

He’s, like, the definition of living the dream. He’s got a sweet apartment that he shares with one of his best friends. He’s on a dream line with two more of his best friends and they’re absolutely tearing it up. 

His team’s incredible, even if they’re a bunch of assholes sometimes (Willy is too sometimes, he admits), but they’re fun and they’re funny and they like to let loose and have a good time, for as often as they’re really fucking serious about the goal they’re all there for. 

Like today. Practice had been brutal and then there’d been a lift before a video session, but there’s nothing on the schedule for tomorrow so there hadn’t even been a question of if they were going out that night. Suggestions for where had been tossed out the second practice ended.

It’s a good night, things are going well and drinks are flowing (as they should be) and then Matts rolls back to the table, weirdly dejected after coming back from the bar trying to talk up a pretty girl, and he takes his chirps with as much grace as the worst loser Willy’s ever met can, but Willy looks over and he knows that girl. He’d recognize those eyes anywhere, even if her hair is longer and maybe darker? So he gets up, even as Matts calls after him, “Fuck you Willy,” and the rest of the boys laugh.

He leans his weight against Noah, laughing at the look on her face when she realizes it’s him. The annoyance leaves her face pretty quickly and a smile slides right in its place, like she’s waiting for him. “Matts is pretty annoyed you turned him down.” He teases, bypassing hello altogether.

“Yeah well,” She huffs and it’s like she’s trying for annoyed but Willy can see the smile that she’s hiding. “Matts needs to learn that just because he’s a big shot hockey player doesn’t mean every girl is going to drop into bed with him at the sound of his name and a free drink.”

“He’s a lot nicer than that.” Willy defends. “Usually. I didn’t mean it like that.” Because, well, Matts can be an asshole, but it’s not about bringing a girl home.

Noah looks at him skeptically. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Yeah, I’ve never led you astray before .”

She bursts into laughter. “Yeah, okay.” The sarcasm drips from her tone, even through the laughter.

Willy pokes her but it only makes her laugh harder. “Name one time.”

“Sledding in DC, winter skate in New York, ditching school to go to the mall that one time in Westchester, taking the train into-“

He covers her mouth. “I said name one.”

When he removes his hand, Noah’s grinning up at him, and suddenly he realizes what’s different. It’s not her hair (which is darker, he’s sure now that he’s up close), or her smile (still bright and laughing), or her eyes (bright and green and unforgettable). It’s the oh fuck running through his brain, because he’d definitely take her home.

-----

Falling back into friendship with Will is easy; it’s pretending Noah doesn’t want more that’s hard.

It’s always been easy to be friends with Will. She can’t remember a time when they didn’t click, when things felt weird or uncomfortable between them. 

But that was before he started dragging her everywhere around Toronto- to the greatest restaurants she’s ever eaten at, to the Christmas Market, to breakfast on Thursday’s every week he’s in town because he knows that she doesn’t have class until the afternoon. 

The flutter in her stomach is so unfamiliar, something so unassociated with Will, that it takes her a while to place it. And of course he’s doing something so normal, so innocuous, so casual, it shouldn’t even register on her radar. He’s buying coffee, for Christ’s sake!

But he’s remembering that she likes oat milk in her iced coffee, even though she hasn’t really actually told him that; it’s just the order she always gives when they go for breakfast. And he’s ordered her a size up from what she usually gets, without her even asking, just because she’d mentioned being up late last night with homework.

“Here!” Will chirps happily, passing her the cup grinning, and there’s that flutter again, deep in her stomach, and it’s that, that small gesture that means so much, just knowing that he’s looking at her enough to know that she needs this extra large iced coffee with oat milk without even being told, that tells her what this feeling is.

This is a crush.

“Thanks.” She’s gonna tamp this baby down and fast. Why is she even crushing on Will at all? It must be, like, the years they’ve spent apart; she’s been desensitized to him or something. Suddenly, his hair’s all beautiful and his eyes are pretty and shit. Unreal.

“You’re welcome,” Will smiles. “But I didn’t just get this for you just because you look exhausted.”

“Is this a bribe?” She demands.

Will laughs. “Kind of.” She side-eyes him until he caves. “We’re all going out this weekend after the game and the team wants to meet you.”

“Oh.” She says, surprised. “That’s it?”

“You were expecting worse?”

She nods. “Much.”

“Well, nope.” He pops the ‘p.’ “Just gotta come hang out with me.”

“Ugh.” She complains. “Maybe that is worse.”

“I bought you that coffee. I’ll take it right back.” Will threatens.

“Never.” Noah cradles it close to her chest. “Not allowed.”

Will’s watching her, smiling, like he already knows she’s going to say yes, but he says anyway. “So you’ll come?”

“Of course, I’ll come.” It really wasn’t even a question. She would have come even if he hadn’t bribed her with the most amazing coffee she’s ever had to drink, but he sweetened the deal with that, so that’s how she finds herself slipping into the VIP section of a club on a Saturday night, eyes scanning to find him.

It’s not too hard to spot him and she soon finds herself sliding into a group of teammates and significant others, fighting back a laugh at the look on Auston Matthews’ face. “Hi!” She drapes herself over Will’s back, actually laughing at the look on his face and clinging tightly to make him work at pulling her off.

“God, you’re a pain.” He announces, finally tugging her around. 

“Always.” Noah laughs, because this is easy, this is normal. Teasing Will just like always. “It’s what I strive to be, a thorn in your side.”

“You don’t have to try.” She miscalculated this gravely. He’s in the perfect position to dance his fingers into her most ticklish spots. “You just are.”

“Are you going to introduce us, Willy?” Someone asks dryly, one of the guys across from them. “Or just stand there pretending the two of you are in your own little world?”

Will’s cheeks flush-something unusual for him, he’s never embarrassed- but he says, “This is Noah.” Simply; like everyone should know who she is to him just from that alone, and it kind of seems like they do. A bunch of their faces light up and a few of them lean into each other and start whispering together. But she doesn’t get a chance to ask him what he has said about her, what kind of talk he’s been talking, before he’s listing names off of everyone around them, like she’s going to remember all these people.

There’s immediate chatter from almost everyone around her; it’s as if each one of them have been dying to meet her for a different reason. “Willy’s kept pretty tight-lipped about you.” Connor-James-Matt?-She’s already forgotten every name Will’s told her- says, almost too casually. “How long have you guys been seeing each other?”

“Before or after you turned Matts down?” Someone else adds eagerly, even as Auston groans, a little embarrassed.

Will’s fighting back a laugh next to her and she wants to kill him, honestly, she really does. But she settles for the next best thing, plastering her hand over his bicep, playing up a part that she isn’t. “Oh, you know. Fifteen years, on and off, right, babe?”

“Fif-what?” That’s Naz that’s narrowing his eyes at them; she’s pretty sure.

And now Will loses it, at either that, or the faces the rest of his teammates are making, and she pulls her hand away, laughing right with him. “What the fuck?” Tyler says flatly. “You really are just friends.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Will insists.

“He’s a terrible liar.” Noah says. “You’d know right away. His face gets all-”

“Nope.” Will pulls her away. “Think it’s time for a drink, don’t you?”

“Gets all what?” Someone calls. “All what?” 

She winks over her shoulder; she’ll get back to him later.

Noah doesn’t get around to him until much later, dragged to the bar with Will and then out dancing where they’re joined by a few of his fellow rookies. There might be times when they all go out looking to pick up, but this clearly isn’t one, every one of them out doing each other in the most ridiculous ways (Mitch wins; Mitch wins every time).

She gets back to the table a while later, when she’s dying of thirst and Will’s gone to the bar for refills, but it’s been long enough that she’s kind of forgotten she’s somewhat on the hot seat in this group. No one pounces immediately, but two of them- Morgan and Jake- move away from the team’s argument about a podcast they’ve been listening to and slide closer to her.

“So what’s the tell?” Morgan asks and Noah frowns for a second until she remembers earlier, laughing and declining. “Fine, sure. I admire the loyalty, I guess.” 

“It’s too easy for him to return the favor.” Noah laughs.

“Ok, so you’ve known Willy,” Jake says slowly, like he’s trying to calculate in real time. “For 15 years now?”

Noah nods. “Since we were four. Our dads got traded to the same hockey team and,” She shrugs. “Then again, and again, and again.”

Morgan kind of lights up, like this is the best news he’s heard all day. “What exactly was Willy like as a kid? Like has he always slept this much on any flat surface available? Or is that a weird thing he picked up in Sweden?”

“Always.” She laughs and then shrugs again. “I don’t know, I think he’s a lot like he is now. I don’t-I don’t think much has changed.”

And before she can even say anything else, the man himself is slipping in beside her, carelessly throwing his arm over her shoulders and gluing himself to her side. “Don’t talk to them.” Will demands. “They won’t have anything nice to say about me.”

“Rude.” Jake throws a wrapper at him, and it tangles in his hair but Will just shakes it out.

“Actually they’re asking me about you.” She tells him and he gasps dramatically.

“Don’t talk to them.” He demands again and she laughs.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want you ruining my image.”

“What image, pretty boy?” Morgan drawls, and Noah just laughs as Will retaliates by throwing the straw wrapper back at him but he doesn’t leave her side after that, remaining a comfortable weight pressed against her for the rest of the evening.

She doesn’t hate it. Stupid crush.

-----

“Happy Birthday.” Willy slides the gift across the counter but Noah doesn’t even reach for it, still looking down at the textbook she’s highlighting. She’s new-semester stressed still, the kind of stressed where her hair is constantly up in that bun for a few weeks and the bags never seem to leave her eyes. He can’t wait for another week or so, when she’ll finally crash and sleep for like, two days, a break she’s in desperate need of.

“What is it?” She asks skeptically and like, sure, the wrap job’s a little sketch, but Willy did it himself, no help from Mum or sisters. She should be, like, proud of his job mediocrely done. 

“Was I unclear?” He asks, and she gives him a look, reaching for it with an eye roll. 

“My birthday was last month.” She reminds him. “You sent me flowers.”

Willy knows. The flowers had been a placeholder because he’d wanted to be with her when she opened her real gift, to see her reaction, watch the smile grow over her face when she sees what’s in the box. “That was never your whole gift.” 

She smiles. “It could have been! It was just nice to know you were thinking of me.”

Willy stops just before he says something stupid, like that he’s always thinking of her. He hasn’t stopped thinking about her since they reunited last year and he probably won’t stop thinking about her, even after she finishes up with school and figures out her next step. It seems inevitable that fate will follow its same path they’ve travelled their entire lives, and they’ll end up crossing paths three times a year when Willy travels to whatever city she ends up in, knowing before they even meet for dinner that it’s not enough time, never enough time.

Instead he smiles and nods. “Come on, I’d never miss your birthday. Even if we have to celebrate late.”

Noah laughs. “Fair.” She says, finally reaching for the gift he’d laid out for her. And he knows what she’s going to find first, but that doesn’t change how nice it feels to know he nailed it when she opens the box of Swedish candies he’d brought back, a box of all her favorites. “Ohh!” She immediately pops one of her favorite chocolates into her mouth. “I don’t even care what the other thing is; this is amazing. Thank you!”

Willy laughs, kind of nervously. “At least look at it before you decide to stick it in a corner and never look at it again.”

She’s already pulling it out, peeling back the corners of the wrapping paper, and then looking up at him when she realizes it’s a jewelry box. He smiles encouragingly, feeling like he barely manages to get a full smile up before she’s opening, and then it stretches out fully in relief when she gasps. “Will.” She says finally, looking up at him, mouth opening and closing repeatedly. 

“Do you like it?” He asks hesitantly. He’d bought it on the spot the moment he saw it, the green of the peridot the exact shade of her eyes and her birthstone-or at least, it was, according to his sister. The necklace itself, a delicate chain dropping into a teardrop stone, this easy beauty that he couldn’t help associating with only her.  It’d felt too perfect to pass up. 

“I love it.” She says immediately. “This is-it’s-it’s perfect!” She gets out finally, and Willy breaks out into a smile, watching her lift the chain up to her neck. “Will you-” She breaks off, looking at him expectantly.

“Oh!” Willy gets it now, stands up to step behind her and gently takes the ends of the necklace. “Yeah, of course.” Noah lifts her hair and for a moment all Willy can concentrate on is the whiff of peach he gets suddenly. He fumbles the clasp for a second before he finally gets his shit together. “Why does your shampoo smell so good?”

She laughs, letting her hair tumble down again- another burst of peach to his nose- and turns to face him. “I switched it this summer. It’s nice, isn’t it?”

Nice? Maybe it’s because he spends all his time in a locker room with 23 other dudes, but it’s the best thing he’s ever smelled. He feels weird, knows it’s so not friends to want to pull her into his arms, just so he can hold her close and breathe in that smell, so he just nods.

“Yeah.” Willy says and his eyes are immediately drawn to her smile, to her fingers dragging the teardrop along the chain, and he- he flickers his eyes back up before he can go any lower. “It’s nice.”

-----

“You ready yet?” Will picks up his wallet off his island, where Noah’s been sitting for the last hour trying to tweak her resume one last time before submitting it to another job interview. “I’m going to miss my flight.”

“I’m going to kill you.” She says flatly. She’s only been calling that concern out to him since she walked in the door.

Will grins, throwing his arm around her shoulders and tugging her close into his side. If they weren’t about to spend the entire summer apart, maybe she’d fight it more, afraid that she’s taking too much from him to satiate her more-than-just-a-crush. But Will’s pulling his stupid Sugo hat on his head with the hand that’s not squeezing her close, and he’s about to leave her for four months, fresh off the devastation of the Bruins loss, so she curls in, greedily taking anything she can from him. “Save some cap space,” He hums. “If you did.”

“Oh my god.” She shoves him away. She takes it back. She takes it all back. She feels absolutely nothing for him; he’s the worst human she’s ever met.

Will pulls her back in and his arm stays around her the entire walk down to his car, when he only removes it so they can pack his bags in and then slide in their seats. As soon as he starts it and gets on the road, he reaches over again, just resting his hand on her knee.

“I can’t believe you’re just going to let me drive your car all summer.” Noah says, so she doesn't say something she regrets instead, like I love you, or worse, something about his hands and where else he can put them. 

Will glances at her briefly before turning his attention back to the road and Noah’s already grinning before he responds. “Don’t make me regret this.”

Shifting in her seat to better face him seems like a good idea until she actually does it and it means that his hand just moves further up her leg. She has to stop herself from looking at it, his fingers on the skin of her thigh. “You’ll still have a car when you get back.”

“The same car?”

“Maybe with a dent or two in it.” Noah teases, mostly just to annoy him. It works; he flickers his eyes over toward her in a glare. “I’m kidding.”

“You better be.”

“I’d totally get it fixed.” She continues, smiling when Will laughs. “Pristine condition. You’d never know.”

“Just how I want it.” He pulls up to departures and puts the car into park, so they can both step out; him to fly out and her to switch sides, meeting at the trunk. “Please don’t crash you or my car.” He says softly, pulling her into a hug.

“Please come back soon.” She counters, muttering the words into his chest.

It’s apparently not as quiet as she’d intended. “Wedding season.” He squeezes. “I’ll see you then.”

But that’s not what she meant at all. Noah doesn’t want him back for a weekend or two. She wants dry ink on a contract, locking him in to Toronto.

-----

When the start of the season comes around and Willy’s contract still hasn’t been signed, he can’t say he’s surprised to get a Snapchat from Noah, featuring her, Auston, and Mitch all pouting. 

“Come on.” He frowns at her, when they’re facetiming later that day- well into the night for him, actually. “You know why I’m doing this.” 

She pouts again, even though she’d been smiling only seconds before. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it. Why can’t you be in a standoff with management from here?”

“Why can’t you come work from home from here?” Willy counters and she actually huffs at him, but changes the subject.

When his holdout continues to last though, she does, finally, agree to come work from home from his place in Sweden, at least for a little, and Willy has to physically stop himself from fistpumping in excitement. It’s been too many months of seeing just her pixelated face through facetime, of conversations broken up by timezones, and late night calls that make him want things he knows he can’t have. 

It’s only a few days later but it feels like forever by the time that Noah is throwing herself into Willy’s arms the second that she exits the Stockholm Arlanda airport, and it’s only years of core stability training that don’t send them both flying to the ground. 

“How’s my car?” He teases, because it’s been a lot longer than the four months he promised and he just wants to see her smile, in person, without a lag from their stupid iPhones.

It works. “1 door left.” She chirps easily. “Don’t worry, Auston’s helping me fix it.”

“I’m sure he is.” Willy says darkly, because it was really no secret Matts still thought she was gorgeous, even if Willy was sure he’d never actually do anything about it. Pretty sure. At least 50%.

Noah laughs. “You’re hilarious.” She pats his arm a few times and pulls away to get in the car, but he wants to know about what. About Matts? It’s a legit concern, he feels. Maybe he’ll just fire off a text to Matts, just to be sure. “Will?” Noah’s leaning out of the passenger side. “Are we leaving or are we going to spend my whole trip here at the airport?”

“What if we are?” Willy shoots back, but he makes his way to the driver’s seat.

“If it meant that you were coming home?” Noah gives him a small smile. “I don’t think I’d even be mad.”

Willy gives her a tight smile. “Not yet.”

“Is it-” Noah makes a noise and then continues anyway. “Are you going to come home?”

“I want to.” She knows this; they don’t talk about his contract situation often, but they do, occasionally. “You know that.”

“Yeah.” She says softly. “I just-it’s getting close, yeah?”

Yeah, it was. The deadline was creeping closer and closer, with still no deal. He didn’t...love that, he’d say that for sure. He wanted to be back with the boys, playing; was ready to be back with Noah, for any time she’d give him. “Yeah.” He says, and then switches the topic completely, because he doesn’t want to think about what he’s going to do if this is the only time he gets with her until next fall. “You want to go to dinner with my family tonight?”

Noah’s eyes light up. “Yeah, oh my god!”

Willy laughs and takes the next exit on the highway, instead of driving further into town to go to his own place. Dinners with his parents and sisters is usually a quick cure to any spiraling thoughts about the signing deadline, and having Noah there today is even better. She’s a comforting weight against his side; a laughing presence with his mum as they gang up against him; a friend to his sisters after dinner, as they sit curled together in a corner of the living room whispering secrets and waving him away when he gets too close.

It’s a lot of things Willy doesn’t let himself think about, doesn’t let himself want, because Noah’s never given any hints she wants the same. And she’ll always fit with his family, because she grew up with him, with them, but one day she’ll find another guy who she just seamlessly fits into the side of, whose family she can easily laugh and joke with, because she’s that charming and friendly and nice. How could anyone not love her?

“I remember your sisters begging me to braid their hair at games all the time.” Noah says fondly, once she leaves their circle of secrets to come back to him. “God, I can’t believe how old they all are now.”

“Don’t remind me.” Will says darkly. His youngest sister just announced she has a boyfriend, her first boyfriend; he hates it the most.

Noah cackles, as if she knows what he’s thinking about, which, well, maybe she does, after the last hour. He doesn’t even want to know what they said about him (except he does, he really, really does). “If you promise to be nice to him, maybe she’ll let us go one a double date with them before I leave.”

Willy about blacks out when he hears her mention the word date and he’s pretty sure it shows on his face. “Really?” It’s the only word he can get out. Everything is wonderful; thank God, thank Jesus, thank who-fucking ever. This is the greatest-

Noah laughs. “Well I don’t think she’s going to let you meet him by yourself!” She nudges him with her shoulder. “But we could all go to dinner together!”

He takes it back. Everything is terrible and this is not even close to the greatest day ever.

They end up going for dinner with his sister and her boyfriend anyway-whatever, it’s fine.

“He was more than fine.” Noah protests, when they’re walking back to his place from the restaurant. It’s her last day here and Willy’s trying to soak up every bit of her that he can, so if that means walking to a restaurant in the cold, then so be it. “He was really nice!”

“He was, like, moderately nice, at best.” Willy pulls a face. 

“Don’t be that guy.” She shakes her head at him. “You know what guy I’m talking about.”

“Yeah.” He sighs. 

She nudges him. “You know, if you came back to Toronto with me, you’d never have to see him. Out of sight, out of mind.”

He wants to. He wants to so badly. He just...can’t. “You know I can’t.”

“But I don’t!” Noah says, frustratedly. “I don’t know why you can’t at all. You want to be there and they want you there. I don’t fucking get this!”

“Money. Terms.” He shrugs, sounding a lot more casual than he feels. “My agent’s taking care of things. That’s what he’s here for.”

“Well maybe it’s time to take care of things you want for yourself.” Noah mutters.

“What?” Will asks; he’s sure he heard her, but the bitterness is really unlike her.

“Nothing.” Noah curls into him and Willy wraps his arm around her shoulders without question. “Just cold. Left or right to get home?”

-----

Will’s text comes through in the middle of the afternoon, that they’re just ironing out the fine details and that he’ll be on a redeye that night.

You don’t even need to buy me a Christmas present this year. Noah sends in response. Best gift ever. 

When he doesn’t respond, though, she gets a little concerned. He always sends something back, always, whether it’s just a little emoji or some kind of quip, and that was prime for the taking. Call me at the airport? She follows it up. Do you need a ride when you get here? I still have your car.

Matts is grabbing me, going right to practice and meeting w kyle. Catch up later.

She actually startles at the response. He’s never, never been so short with her. It’s not even that the response itself was rude; it just...didn’t even feel like him. It feels like he’s pushing her away and the only thing she can think of is that he is. That he’d realized how she’d clung to him in Sweden in departures, the way she hadn’t been able to stop herself from running her hand down his back before pulling away, and he’d connected it to the fact that she’s definitely in love with him and was pulling away.

It’s the worst thought she’s had since she realized he was staying in Sweden for a while. She’d drunk a bottle of wine then to cope and she does the same now, but then she’s only more cranky the next morning when she’s still over thinking and she has a headache.

The knock on her door only makes her more annoyed, at least until she opens it and sees Will standing in the hallway. “Hi.” She breathes. She’d pictured him coming back to Toronto so many times, and look, she knows she doesn’t need to impress Will, who has seen her at her best and worst, but not once was she wearing sweats and the biggest sweatshirt that she owns. 

“Hi.” Will grins and she’s about to tell him to come in, but then he’s cupping her cheek and ducking down and it’s like time stops as he kisses her.

Noah can’t quite believe she was ever scared that Will didn’t love her. She doesn’t need him to say it, but he’s the one to pull away first, resting his forehead on hers, and they’re the first words out of his mouth. “I love you.” He kisses her again and god, she could do this forever. “You told me if I want something, to just take care of it myself, and I’m doing it. I don’t want to sit back anymore and let someone else love you. I love you.”

Will brushes his thumb over her cheek and Noah tries to gather a thought, any thought after a kiss that turned her brain to mush. “I don’t know when I started loving you,” She says, smiling when she sees the grin grow across Will’s face. “But I think it was before I even know what love was, and I don’t ever want to stop.”

The next kiss is the worst one yet, the smile still on his face (and hers), but that’s okay, Noah muses. They have time. 

[jaylixjun]

last kiss

taylor swift song fic

fred x reader,george x platonic!reader sad),:

y/n looked at fred as they were talking in their bed laying down before they fell asleep. the room was dark but she still made out his face in the darkness. whispering their inside jokes and laughing about it. she looked at the muggle clock beside her. 1:58am it read.

“freddie, it’s almost two !” she whispered yelled

“so ?”

“you have work tomorrow !!”

“it’s whatever” he said going back into conversation with her .

she remembered that clear as day .

he had told her multiple times he loved her , so why did he leave her ?

she remembers the fresh smell of the rain as she got off the plane.

she couldn’t bear the heartbreak and would constantly see her self walking by the joke shop where her now ex love worked at .

she didn’t really know why he broke up with her, she thought they were fine .

july 9th, the day she moved in to her new home in a new place away from fred and far from the shop and everything .

as she was unpacking, she saw she accidentally brought one of freds jumper with her, or thats what she told herself. she hugged it tightly, still feeling his arms around her. she walked down the stairs her eyes never leaving the jumper. she wanted to toss it out, her arm stretching over the trash bin to throw it away but just couldn’t get herself to do it. instead she put it on. slowly backing back until she hit the wall and sat down on the floor, wearing his sweater.

did he miss her ? did he regret breaking up with her ? why did he do it ? all that ran through her mind

she let out a sob and placed her hand grazing her lips where fred once kissed her

she never thought they would share one last kiss

“fred…” she whimpered crying on the floor oh her kitchen

never did she think they would end , specially not like this .

..

she remember back to their time at hogwarts and everybody was excited about the yule ball.

fred and y/n always had something going on, despite her being ron’s age.

she didn’t expect him to ask her.

“i’m telling you now fred , i am NOT dancing, okay ??” she said emphasizing “not”

“we’ll see about that darlin’ “ he said kissing her cheek leaving her red faced there .

.

the yule ball was finally here. y/n had her beautiful dress that fit her perfectly, she felt utterly beautiful .

she walked down the stairs were fred was waiting for her. as she walked down, fred saw her, his eyes widened and his mouth opened. he always thought she was beautiful but he felt as he fell in love with her all over again .

“w-wow y/n you look- i mean you’re beautiful”

“why thank you” she said smugly as seeing him nervous for the first time, she took a bold move and kissed his cheek”you don’t look bad yourself”

fred didn’t say anything, just looked at her blushing, feeling his eyes about to pop out of his skull

“cat got your tongue ?” she said giggling

“shut up” he said letting out a chuckle before he returned to his normal self.

..

everybody was enjoying themselves at the ball, everybody dancing and jumping around, but y/n just sat on the chair eating a cupcake, she told fred she didn’t feel well to dance so she told him to go enjoy himself and not to worry about her. fred felt bad leaving her but george pulled him away.

y/n looked at fred showing off his dance moves to his friends making her chuckle, he was always the life of the party so it was no surprise to her. fred felt a gaze on him and spotted y/n looking at him, she quickly looked away feeling embarrassed but fred smirked , walking over to her.

“milady” fred said holding out his hand out for her

“no”

“pleaseee” he whined, still keeping his hand out for her

“fred, i don’t dance”

“just one, i swear”

y/n looked at him , his long hair as some strands fell into place like dominos(😉) , she couldn’t say no.

she rolled her eyes at him but a smile played on her face .

“fine” she replied and he immediately pulled her in .

it was not just one dance, they danced for the rest of the ball .

…

a few days later after the ball, the two began dating, they were always seen together.

which brings them one year later, fred was meeting y/n’s dad , he had already met her mom due to her being more understanding. fred was worried, he didn’t know what her dad would say about him and him dropping out of school .

“fredrick weasley?” he heard behind him starling him and quickly standing up

“that’s me” he said shaking his hand

“nice to met you mr.y/l, and you can call me fred if you’ll like”

“nice to met you too fred”

…

y/n thought back to how he always walks with his hands or his thumb inside his pockets and him not even noticing he would do it, she payed attention to him and everything her would do .

..

fred and y/n had recently gotten a flat together after the battle of hogwarts, y/n moved in right away with him after his near death experience and couldn’t leave him, not now, so she dropped out her last year and moved in with him .

she remembered how he would always kiss her when she was in the middle of a conversation .

he would always look at her like she was everything to him and would always look at her lips when she would talk , occasionally looking up to meet her eyes.

“we have to go pick up gin-“fred interrupted her by kissing her and held her face delicately with his right hand and leaving her stunned for a few seconds before she shook it off .

“fred ! were you listening !” she playfully raised her voice

“yes i was i swear !”

“as i was saying , we have to go pick up ginny tomorrow at te-“ he interrupted her again by kissing her

“fred !” she said as her cheeks turned red

“what ?” he played dumb

“did you hear me ?”

“yes, we have to go pick up ginny tomorrow at ten in the morning, i don’t get it , why can’t she just use the fire place or something”

“because we promis-“ he kissed her once again making her smile grow wide

“you’re impossible” she smiled at him and leaned in to kiss him

that was not the only time fred would do that to y/n, he started doing it right after they started dating .

oh how she missed those “rude” interruptions everyday

..

by this point, y/n face was flushed and eyes puffy and burning from crying, sitting on the kitchen clothes still wearing his “F” jumper on .

she got up but couldn’t take the jumper up, she slowly headed upstairs and turned on her shower, quickly undressing and taking a pain killer for her head as she looked at herself in the mirror judging herself, she didn’t even care that the water was too cold for her,she stilled hopped on and showered.

when she got out, she put on a comfy pair of pajama bottoms and put back fred’s jumper quickly getting on her bed and grabbing her blanket and hugging it tightly before she started crying again, eventually falling asleep, forgetting to start unpacking.

..

a month later into settling into her new house, y/n’s mind always wandered around and ended up thinking about fred. she kept herself updated about him and his shop. seeing pictures of him hurt, but somehow still wanted to see him. she recently had seen one of fred and george outside their shop, seeing him smile wide hurt, her eyes brimmed with tears as seeing him well , she felt selfish wanting to see him miss her like he missed him. she was so used to always seeing him right in front of her, now she watched him in pictures instead of her just being to turn her head and watch him sleep. the more she kept looking at his smiling face, she knew he forgot about her, she felt it, just how she would always feel him breathe..

…

a week later, y/n received an owl. she was surprised since she didn’t tell anyone where she was going in fear of fred finding out her location, not that she thinks he would care but still.

she opened it and saw she had more than one.

one from george, one from ginny and another one from harry .

they were all telling her how she missed her and want her to come back, she knew she couldn’t, she wouldn’t. she was still confused on how they found her location, guess she can’t stay away from wizards.

she eventually wrote back after a while.

she kept up with them after sending her first later after a while, knowing it wasn’t fair for them to be ignored by her by something out of their control.they eventually decided to meet up , and they did, a few times, they would apparate to her flat and have a cup of tea or go out for breakfast.

y/n saw george more often than the rest. her heart stinging when she saw him due to the fact of him being almost identical to fred, in her mind they still looked kind of different though.

“hellooo y/l/n !!!” a voice broke through her ears suddenly making her gasp and turn around with her wand up to the intruder.

“GEORGE !” she let out a sigh of relief seeing it was him, putting her wand down”you scared me you bastard !”

“ i know” he said while laughing pulling her into a hug

“don’t do that again !” she playfully smacked him making him dramatically pretend he was hit with a spell, causing y/n smile to fall a little as it reminded her of fred, but quickly returned back to her smile

“you ready ?” george asked .

“yess let me just get my wallet”

“nah it’s fine, don’t worry, lunch is on me y/n/n”

“what ? no way , let me go get it , it’s right upstairs i won’t take long”

“nonsense, cmon y/n it’s nothing”

“fine ! next time it’s on me though !”

“yeah yeah okay , on our way we go” he said as he opened the door for her and pushed her out .

…

after eating their lunch, george insisted for them to go get ice cream, and after a while of convincing her because she didn’t have her wallet, they went.

they were sitting down in a cute ice cream parlor having a conversation when she thought of bringing up fred, like she always did with any other of her friends when they spoke .

“s-so , george”

“yes ?” he said while grabbing a spoonful of y/n’s (favorite flavor)ice cream

“hey !” she said while stealing some of george’s ice cream too letting out a laugh .

“what were you gonna ask?” george said, sorta knowing what she was going to, he didn’t mind at all thought, y/n and fred been dating for years before they broke up and it hadn’t been long since they did, george didn’t tell y/n he was pissed at fred for doing so and didn’t even talk to him for a week unless it was necessary,y/n had always been george’s best friend and even cried when he found out she had moved away and didn’t know where she had gone, he strongly blamed fred for it but understood y/n needed her space.

“um yes, how’s you know who ?”

“voldemort? last time i checked he was dead, harry really did a number on that guy” he said trying to make her smile and smiled back once he saw it worked.

“you know who i’m talking about!”she laughed”fred..” but right as quickly, her smile disappeared.

“hey it’s okay” he said as he saw her eyes start to well up.

“i’m sorry” she apologized wiping her eyes.

“hey don’t apologize, it’s okay”

she nodded, waiting for an answer for her question .

george took a breath and blew out some air before answering

“fred, he’s well fred”he chuckled”he still gets in trouble when we’re with mum, he’s alright but you know, he still has his days,won’t want to come out his room or be grumpy all day, still finds joy in pranking ron . a few weeks ago, fred put spiders in his bed as bed bugs and ron freaked out! mum made him do chores as punishments and he knew he couldn’t get out of that one! ron tried to get him back but you know that never goes well , he wasn’t even fazed!”

“that sounds like them alright” y/n said, her mind going around the fact that he said fred would mop around his room, she though it was just normal because of his stress with work, george saw her thinking face and knew she was thinking about that part in particular but didn’t mention anything, unless she questioned it.

..

after an hour or so , george had to go back and took her back to her house, he saw how lost in thought she was and knew it was about what he said.

“thank you so much for coming georgie, i appreciate it”

“you’re so very welcomed y/n/n” he said giving her a hug”we all miss you, tons”

“i do too, tell them all i miss them too, well you know who and who to tell”

“i will, i’ll see if i can come back next week? of course only if you’re okay with that”

“yes yes of course! maybe even invite the others too, i haven’t seen them in a while”

“great! i’ll let them and you know then” he said kissing her forehead

“goodbye y/n! see you next week!”

“bye georgie and again thank you so much”

he saluted before apparating away.

y/n felt drained, she felt like she had to keep up her mood for george, it’s not everyday she sees him anymore and didn’t want him to feel bad. she hopes fred is doing all good, that it’s nice were he is,mentally and physically.

she hopes one day when he wakes up in a beautiful day, something reminds him of her and wished he had stayed with her instead of breaking up with her for an unknown reason to her, she hopes he plans on going back to her, still she never planned on him changing his mind about her and his future, their future.

y/n goes upstairs to her room and changes into comfortable clothes and takes off her make up, she didn’t plan on going out again that day.

she sees fred’s jumper calling her name and puts it on with no hesitation, she grabs his and her scrapbook and sits on the floor in his jumper.

she never thought they would kiss one last time, or that it would end like this, she always thought about that, she would always touch her lips and feel them let out his name in a shaky banter.

“fred….”

—

hello ! hope you all liked it !! i really want to write a part two about fred’s p.o.v !! i most likely will !!should i make them get back together ??! or should y/n move on !!! anyways, stay safe !!!

part two and three are up !

[godofsexdrugsandrocknroll]

Growing Pains

Nala Arc: *Jaune’s sixteen year old daughter with thick blonde hair pulled back in a low pony, blonde cat ears atop her head with her grandfather Ghira’s yellow eyes* --Yes Daddy.

Jaune: *Very seriously* And you’ve got your scroll.

Nala: *Shows it off* Yup.

Jaune: Your purse?

Nala: *Rolls eyes* Duh.

Jaune: And your pepper spray, mace, rape whistle and extra ammo?

Nala: *Sighs* Yes, yes, of course and even if I tried to leave the dust out you’d find a way to smuggle it in anyways, Daddy.

Jaune: *Ignores the sass* Okay, good. Good.  And you have--

Nala: *Growing impatient* --Yes, Dad, I have Pride. *Shows off twin automatic pistols in black and gold, connected by a thin gold chain and shifts it into weighted chain form before reshifting and holstering it*

Jaune: Okay, Dormiens Leo?

Nala: *Stomps foot* Dad, c’mon! I’m not taking my freaking sword on my first date!

Jaune: *Hands up, backtracking* Right, yeah, of course sweetpea! *Pauses*

Nala: *Stares at her father cautiously*

Jaune: Are you sure you don’t wanna wear the belt I bought you?

Nala: *Explodes* No! It looks nice, it looks normal, it’s super flippin’ cute but I know you had it custom made, I know it’s a high tech chastity belt that locks as soon as you put it on and only you have the code to it! Besides, I’m not even t-thinking about having that, about having s-sex with Dutch! *Blushing*

Jaune: *Gapes* W-who told you--

Nala: *Grumbling, not looking him in the eye* Mom.

Blake: *Entering the room, wiping her hands with a towel and tossing it on the table* And I’d do it again. Because, Jaune, you are overreacting.

Jaune: B-but she’s going on a date! With a boy!

Blake: *Cocks eyebrow* Mmm. So if it was a girl then it’d be okay?

Jaune: What? No! Boy or girl, doesn’t matter! *Hugs an irritated Nala fiercely* She’s my baby girl! She’s d-d-- *whispers* dating, Blake!

Blake: *Smiling* Uh-huh. And she’ll continue to date. One day - when she’s ready - she’ll even have sex. *Jaune whines and Nala turns into a tomato* But right now, you big baby, our little girl is going on her first date. She is being very safe, especially when you take into consideration that our daughter is highly trained, has two weapons and her King’s Flare semblance makes every fire semblance we’ve ever come across look like matchsticks. *Peels Jaune off of Nala*

Nala: *Embarrassed* Mooom!

Blake: *Fixes her daughters top, smoothes out her hair* She has her guns, she has common sense and honestly honey, she has my brains.

Jaune: *Long pause* I kinda think that last one mighta been an insult, but I do have to agree with you there.

Blake: Besides, Dutch is an athlete, not a Huntsman. No aura. You need to calm down.

*Jaune mutters mutinously, crossing his arms and Nala sighs and hugs her mother*

Nala: Thanks Mom. *Stands in front of Jaune, fidgets* Daddy?

Jaune: *Dramatic sigh* Ugghhh, I hate it when your mom makes sense. *Hugs Nala who squeezes him and puts her head on his shoulder* Just...have fun, okay? Don’t stay out too late, don’t do anything you don’t want to and you’re, uh...

Nala: *Rolls her eyes* It’s that neo-Valean restaurant near Auntie Nora and Uncle Lie’s neighborhood. If Dutch turns out to be a jerk, Auntie Nora will probably wind up leveling the place.

Jaune: *To Blake* Maybe we should give Ren the heads up instead of miss ‘Goddess of Boom’.

Blake: *To Jaune* Already called him. He has Nora busy with the twins tonight. *Smiles as Jaune kisses her cheek*

*The parents watch their daughter fuss over her hair, reapply lip gloss and fidget with her top, her ears twitching all the while and the door opens to an athletic young man with brown hair and dark green eyes*

Nala: *A few minutes later* --good that you all met, but we’re gonna miss the movie if we don’t go to dinner now. *Smiles brightly* C’mon, Dutch!

Dutch: *Grins, blushing a bit* Right, Nala. *To Blake* Bye Mrs. Arc. *To Jaune, winces* M-Mr. Arc. It was really nice to meet you. *Jaune just nods with a smile* I’llhaveherbackbytenbye!

Blake:

Jaune:

Blake: You just had to pull the whole ‘I am Paladin, Slayer of Salem’ thing, didn’t you.

Jaune: *Crosses arms petulantly* I have no idea what you mean, Blake.

Blake: *Rolls her eyes* Oh sure. Because you’re usually stern, terrifying and pushing your aura out to create killing intent.

Jaune: *Annoyed* If I was it must’ve just been instinct since he was checking of my sweet little girls behind.

Blake: *Snorts*

Jaune: *Whining* Blaaake! It’s not funny! She doesn’t even have your ass--

Blake: Oh she does. Just not my hips. Plus she’s more petite like your sister, Celeste.

Jaune: Nope, stop. But even still, that little fucker--

Blake: Is a teenage boy who thought he was being subtle. Who probably hasn’t asked out a future Huntress before, let alone the daughter of two veterans, even less two of the most talented swordspeople alive. *Takes Jaune’s hand and rubs a circle into his palm with her thumb* I know Nala growing up like this is making you a little crazy because of all your sisters and the fact that you were once a teenage boy, but have a little faith in our daughter.

Jaune: *Rubs face with free hand* Yeah, yeah, I know. I don’t like it though.

Blake: *Flippantly* And neither do I, Jaune, but it’s a part of being parents. We’re lucky Nala’s so even tempered and just skipped right over the teenage rebellion phase and isn’t just embarrassed by us. She’s a good girl. *Pauses, starts leading Jaune into the house* Or would you rather her be more Neptune and Dew’s girl?

Jaune: *Winces* No! *Grouchily* I just never thought letting her grow up would be so...

Blake: *Squeezes his hand* I know. But you got your licks in. And when Dutch brings our baby home, it’ll be his turn to worry about me. *Cuts off Jaune’s dumb grin* But until then...

Jaune: *Slumps* Blake, I don’t wanna do yard work. *Blinks as Blake sits on his lap* Oh. Ohhhhh. No, I’m definitely up for this task, ma’am. *Squeezes Blake’s ass*

Blake: *Smirking, leans in for a kiss* I figured.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I figured that if anybody would be both the cool parent and the responsible, easy to reason with but still every bit as protective one, it’d be Blake. And Knightshade’s a fun couple to explore although I like reading it better than writing it. Since other people do it better.

But I did have fun coming up with Nala Arc as a character. Named after the female lion from The Lion King that has a fair bit of meaning behind said name in the first place (I believe it’s Swahili for ‘Gift’). A weighted chain/pair of automatic pistols called Pride, plus a Nimcha sword named ‘Sleeping Lion’ in Latin (the name of the Lion King Keyblade from Kingdom Hearts II) and a semblance named after the Link Summon for Simba from Kingdom Hearts III (which works the same way: Nala becomes engulfed in fire, exudes fire and can cause loads of damage while active).

[lilbabycee]

brunch // steve rogers

↳ request:  oh requests are open? can I get a possesive stevie with a soft bratty spoiled reader? i'm sorry I'm such a hoe @donutloverxo​

↳ relationship: steve rogers x reader

↳ word count: 1.6k

↳ author’s note: i am a whore in a woman’s shoes and that is all

you’ve got plans this morning. it’s rare for you to be the one vying to get out of bed but you’d promised bucky last week that you’d meet him for brunch today, and since it’s his first time going, you want this experience to be a lot of fun for him. 

(tony offered, but you knew that it would be a dire mistake if you left the genius billionaire in charge of it because he would’ve scared the poor man off)

regardless, you’re proud of bucky - he’s finally growing into his hollow shell, making it a point to go out of his comfort zone and broaden his horizons. 

so you’ll be damned if the sleepy - but still so strong? - supersoldier curled against your body with his arms wound tightly around your waist will stop his girlfriend from showing his best friend a really good time. 

(now that you really take it into consideration, that doesn’t sound quite right)

but you don’t care because steve’s being selfish and while any other time it would make you undeniably aroused, this is bucky and you don’t want to disappoint him. you hate that kicked puppy look in his steel-blue eyes, one that you recognize all too well because it’s the same look that you use to guilt-trip your stevie.

“steve, i gotta go get ready,” you murmur, running the pad of your thumb over his cheekbone. he’s still hiding those baby blues from you, long eyelashes resting light against his skin. 

you watch in mild amusement as his eyebrows knit together and he pushes out his full lips into a tiny little pout. it almost makes you want to coo at him. 

faster than you can comprehend, he’s flipped you around so that his chin is resting on your shoulder. he presses his lips to the bare skin of your shoulder and then settles back down behind you, evidently with no intention of moving. 

“no, baby,” he grumbles, the sound reverberating in his chest and, by extension, the column of your spine. a shockwave of pleasure runs through you at the feeling, your cunt clenching completely shamelessly because his voice in the morning is by far the most sinful thing that you’ve ever heard TM. 

it sounds like sandpaper, warm and rich and grating against the sharp edges of your stubbornness and sanding it down bit by bit until there’s nothing but smooth corners and round sides. 

you don’t have to turn around to know that the ghost of a smug little smirk is etched onto his face when he feels you shiver against the hard planes of his body. 

“you like that, hmm, doll?” he speaks again, lips right against your ear and the register of his voice somehow even lower than before. “you like it when i talk to you like that?”

“stevie,” you whine petulantly, your core throbbing again because he knows exactly what he’s doing and it’s not fair.

“tell you what, honey,” one of his hands leaves your waist to trail up and down your leg, the featherlight touches making your sensitive skin burn under his fingers. “you stay with me and i’ll speak to you like this all,” he draws out the word as his teeth catch on your earlobe, “you want, hmm?”

there he goes with the sandpaper again, patiently working away and getting almost embarrassingly close to wearing you down completely. yet something about the sultry drawl of his brooklyn accent makes you snap out of it because you’re supposed to be meeting bucky- 

so you take advantage of his slack hands and wiggle out of his hold, jumping out of your shared bed and making a beeline toward the bathroom. 

(you don’t dare look over your shoulder in fear of the rage that you know will be written all over his handsome face, so you only throw a sorry, daddy! at him before locking the door)

and when you step out in the outfit that you’d left in there last night, steve’s hazy blue eyes clear of their tired fog and become as bright as the sun shining through the slit between your drawn curtains. he stretches his arms out - you can’t help but stare at the muscles rippling underneath his skin - before resting them behind his head. 

his feigned nonchalance is almost entirely transparent; his eyes staying glued to your body while you fiddle with the silk ties on your top and the way that he runs his tongue over his lower lip doesn’t go unnoticed despite the fact that you’re slightly preoccupied.

“where’re you goin’ anyway, sweetheart?” his gaze roams downwards, lingering on the light and breezy material of your pink skirt. 

“brunch,” you reply softly, not even sparing him a glance because why did you buy this shirt if you have no idea how to fucking put it on. 

“right - with nat?” he says, squinting when he sees the stretches of exposed skin on your legs. his hand snakes underneath the covers and you’re fighting the upwards quirk of your lips as he so obviously palms at his erection.

“no, with bucky,” you throw out carelessly, proud of yourself because you’ve finally managed to wrap the white blouse around your body, tying the back into a bow. as you look up, you lift an eyebrow at the amount of unexpected cleavage it shows 

(but you’re not complaining because it looks so pretty)

your reflection makes you notice that you’re missing earrings and a necklace still, and some rings or something wouldn’t hurt…

what you’ve failed to notice is how heavy the silence in the room has gotten, the tension almost visible between the two of you. it’s when you retrieve your silver hoops that you realize that steve has gone awfully quiet, and you’re in the middle of putting the second one on when you meet his stare in the mirror. 

he’s now sitting up more than before, still slouching lazily while he watches you in a way that you can only describe as predatory. where steve’s eyes are usually the purest baby blue in the mornings, they’re now far past blueberries and into the territory of being the color of the hudson at night. 

it makes your eyes double in size as you watch him, his hand continuing to rub at his cock through the thin material of his boxers.

(the sight alone is ruining your new thong and you don’t even have the heart to be mad about it)

“bucky, huh?” is all he says, pulling his lower lip between his teeth briefly.

“yeah,” your voice is quiet but you know that he can hear it perfectly well. you also know that he can probably smell your arousal from where he’s sitting, a fact that doesn’t make you as embarrassed as you maybe should be. “told you last week.”

“must’ve forgotten,” he brushes you off dismissively, blatantly staring at the curve of your ass. “you always get dressed up this pretty for buck, baby?”

“no,” your response is shaky and you still haven’t turned around yet, continuing your conversation entirely with the reflection of your boyfriend sprawled out on the bed behind you. 

you decide that he looks like something out of a playgirl magazine and you love it. 

“you tryna impress bucky, sweetheart?” he probes with a jerk of his head, one of the corners of his mouth threatening a smile. “wanna dress all pretty and go be bucky’s little slut, hmm, baby? what happened to daddy?”

this makes you audibly choke 

(you can’t help but think that you’d like to choke on only one thing right now)

but steve pushes on like he never heard you.

“i thought you were daddy’s good baby. now you wanna be a little whore for daddy’s best friend? is that it, honey? leavin’ daddy here alone to go be a dirty fuckin’ slut for bucky? daddy was gonna let you ride his cock, baby, but maybe you should go ride bucky’s instead.”

you can’t deny the way that his condescending voice makes you grip onto your dresser for dear life, your legs threatening to give out underneath you as your skin overheats with desire. 

but you can’t help the words that come out of your mouth next - he’s set it up too perfectly for you.

“maybe I will, daddy.”

you know that he likes it when you mess with him, wind him up so tight that the spring inside his chest is in danger of popping off at any second. it gives him an excuse to fuck you into his mattress with your hands tied behind your back as you beg him to let you cum

(not that he needs one)

so when you think about it, the punishment that you’ll get for this is really for the both of you. you’re doing him a favor.

it’s too bad that you can’t say the same about your ass.

what feels like instantaneously, he’s up right behind you, pushing his very obvious erection against your ass. 

your waist is trapped between his hands until a hard smack lands on your ass, one that makes you jolt forward so hard that everything neatly lined up on top of your chest of drawers shakes and falls. 

you don’t even have the time to gasp before his thick thumb is shoved between your lips, the pad resting on your tongue as he strokes it gently.

“oh, baby,” he tuts, rutting into you harder and faster, his other hand roughly flipping up your skirt at the front to grab your cunt possessively. “my dumb little baby. you need me to remind you who this pussy belongs to? need daddy to tell you who owns your cunt, babydoll?”

his words make you clench in anticipation and the warmth of his hand seeping through the lace of your soaked panties makes your next words come easy.

“yes, daddy.”

[tarantulas4davey]

HELLO BESTIE I am currently having Ralbert Brainrot and you're the best person go come to for this, obviously,, so PLEASE share! I would like to hear about ufc albert or youtuber race, or dancing partners!! I love them smm

HI YES HELLO USING THIS AS AN EXCUSE TO WRITE UFC FIGHTER AL PART 2 THANKS BABES

i just witnessed a literal crime and i’m Feeling The Rage (boxing judges at mma events can catch these hands) so here is. my brain on anger.

also the first half of this is pretty fight-talk heavy but the second half is more al/ralbert central so message me/send me an ask if i don’t explain something well enough <3

here is the ask i sent to @we-are-inevitable (thanks jac i’m in love with you mwah) and here is part 1 for this au if you haven’t read that one yet !!

also,,,,, this is fairly obvious. but trigger warning for violence/physical fighting, as well as blood. (it’s a rough gig y’all fjdhdb) oh and swearing but that’s pretty much just me LMAO

here i am, bein mad and writing ralbert. therapy time with chandler ig

OK SO

this is after his debut. duh. continuation

i think he’s probably 5 fights in with 5 wins. he’s been running people through, especially with four full camps after a short notice start, and he’s never even seen a decision in the ufc

let’s just say the hype train is moving FAST and it’s moving LOUD

everyone has to have those people that watch their fights just to see them lose, on top of the majority male fan base that have to have a little bit of toxic masculinity and homophobia in there

so there’s A LOT of people that are waiting for him and his hype train to get derailed. but there’s also a fair amount of fans, so you win some you lose some (the way i would die to see this be a real fighter pls)

now albert’s not always the most confident guy, and he’s never been cocky, but none of this shit gets to him. he’s got his coaches, he’s got his friends and he’s got race behind him. he knows he’s got the skills, and he’s got his support system, so who gives a shit what a bunch of cowards on the internet have to say?

and then they put him against someone known for his grappling and stamina. and the “it’s a wrap for dasilva!” bandwagon starts. it happens every time a rising striker and early knockout artist fights a well known grappler with any semblance of later round power (even if al has a background in wrestling and has gone 5 rounds and won outside of the ufc. it’s a bandwagon for a reason)

and it’s not Upsetting, it’s not really getting into his head in any way that’ll make him do worse, but it’s kinda pissing him off. which is bad for his opponent

the last person on earth you want to be fighting is an annoyed albert dasilva who thinks he has something to prove

he works his ass off in camp, and the press tour is a self-assured albert vs. a loudmouth who thinks he’s hot shit cause a few people on twitter think he’ll sweep

and, to be completely honest? it’s starting to look that way 2 rounds in.

it’s a 5 round fight, co-main event on a big card, and so far all al’s opponent has done is pinned him to the cage and kept him there. a few strikes worth anything - at least enough make al’s cheek bleed, no takedowns, which would at least give him some activity, and so submission attempts, so he can’t even gain any ground that way. he’s just- Stuck. and if THIS is how he loses, he’s gonna be pissed

the bell for the second round sounds, and you can actually see al’s chest heaving on camera as he walks to his corner - not because he’s tired or out of breath, but because he’s MAD, and fuck if he’s not going to do something about it

not only that, but he can not only see race and jack standing up by the cage - plus race’s expression, which is slightly annoyed and super anxious, which hurts his chest to think about - but he can hear them too

jack is yelling profanities, as per usual. he doesn’t that regardless of how the fight is going, but it’s less encouraging when you’re the one losing.

race though,,,, race isn’t really yelling, he’s more talking to himself than anything, but he’s close enough to cage and al knows him well enough to figure out what he’s saying. and if the muttered almost-prayers while he paces back and forth weren’t enough, the shiny gold engagement ring on race’s hand definitely is

round 3,,,, let’s just say it goes a little differently than the first 2 had gone.

he opens with a spinning back kick, of all fucking things, and that truly sets the pace

he’s the taller guy by a few inches, like usual, which makes his arms longer. the only reason crushing his against the cage worked is cause the guy he’s fighting cuts weight like a wrestler, so he’s easily got 20 pounds on albert come fight night

but once he finds his rhythm and starts throwing, he starts connecting too. he manages to stay out of range of his opponent and stay his comfortable distance to start t-ing off

this isn’t a one punch power ending. this isn’t a beautiful head kick, or a giant knee, or even just a clean right hook.

this is albert, who’s arms are starting to feel the 3rd round a little bit, hitting this guy with everything he has cause he refuses to lose this fight.

i mean- everyone watched him get up at the start of the round with a set jaw and a scary determined glint in his eye. he’s not a person you fuck with, and he’s definitely not a person you publicly ridicule before being locked in a cage to fight with

the guy he’s fighting is absolutely battered, but he manages to survive until round 4. the first of the championship rounds, something al’s never seen in a ufc fight before, and it feels like the arena is holding its breath

so when al comes out and does the same thing as round 3 to better results - fight ending results - everyone’s a little shocked, honestly

the commentary team’s in disbelief, cause albert is NOT a slow starter, regardless of what this fight would tell you, and the fact he managed a win at all, let alone such a phenomenal one, is fucking astounding

he gets his hand raised, obviously, but the really interesting part is the post fight interview

“albert, man, what changed between round 2 and 3? what second gear did you find?”

“bro, i just— it was pissing me off, honestly. i don’t come in here to get pinned down for 25 minutes. and, y’know, my team gave me good advice. i had all the pieces, straight from the jump, someone just had to force me to put them in place…”

and then he looks over at race, who gives al one of those half grin, half smirks and winks at him, and al just chuckles to himself and finishes answering the question

“the thing that really forced my hand is race. i won’t get cheesy on you, but watching someone who loves and supports you through everything panic cause he’s scared for you - it’s a big motivator. everyone would figure out a lot more of my motivations if they went and watched race’s expressions back instead of whatever the hell i’m doing in here. he’s always been the brains, i’m just the brawn.”

and that’s a better answer than anyone was expecting, plus he’s just had the fight of a lifetime that’s probably earned him a title shot, so he’s done soon after that and gets to have his little in-cage celebration

he hugs his team and jack, who razzes him a little bit as per usual, and makes some dumb quip about going over tapes later like he’s a coach. and then comes race

he hugs him, all tender and cute and also very sweaty cause That’s How It Works, and the camera’s focused on him, so they can tell they’re whispering back and forth. but there’s no mics on them, so what’s said is missed entirely on the audience, but it’s their usual cheesy, in love mess

“congrats, baby. i’m proud of you.”

“oh please. it was 90% you anyway. i meant what i said, it wasn’t just for the cameras.”

“i know that. i’m gonna have to get you back somehow for telling everyone to go back and watch my awful anxious expression. i’ll think of something.”

“i’m sure you will, sweetheart.”

and then al does that awful, adorable lil nose bump thing, and then kisses race. and then jack covers his eyes and whines until they stop like the actual 12 year old boy he is inside

and then they leave the octagon, race and al holding hands, and al throws his arm over jack’s shoulder and shoves his head down and pushes him, cause even though he was just in a literal cage match he’s still a roughhousing teenager at heart

and he’s got interviews and press shit that separates him from his people, and he’s gotta slide that bulletproof mask back down over all the happy and in love shit he’s feeling so he can not smile like an idiot on camera constantly

but every once in awhile he’ll catch jack giving him the finger and laugh before returning it below view of the camera

or he’ll catch race’s eye from where he’s standing behind all the studio lights and do a little wave under the camera and return the wink from earlier, and the unbothered fighter facade will crack a little bit

but he’s not completely convinced that’s such a bad thing

GOD THIS POST IS SO MUCH LONGER THEN I MEANT IT TO BE IM SORRY

but Yeah. Them.

i love this au a helleva lot more than i should but that’s Fine cause i’ve got thoughts for days on it

[volleychumps]

HEY HEY HEY!!! hagsfdjkhg okay so i was studying and that reminded me of sth. Like how would study dates go with the Haikyuu boys? (more specifically Kuroo, Akaashi, Iwaizumi, Oikawa, Bokuto, Semi, Goshiki)(Alsooo i dont know if youve got a limit for characters so feel free to omit some of them if you wish ^^)

Study Dates w/ Kuroo, Akaashi, Iwa, Oikawa, Bokuto, and Semi

Kuroo

-Surprisingly enough, Kuroo is actually really good at studying

-like actually though, when you were shocked he was actually offended

- “...did you actually think I was dumb?” 

- “I plead the fifth.” 

-Likes to lay his head on your lap while you type your assignment w/ your laptop on the armrest of the sofa as he reads his assignment w/ the spine folded in half

-fuck his reading glasses made him really hot

- Would help you proofread your papers and would pop your back for you if the study session was long

-Distracts you, though

- “What?” You peer down at him curiously when his eyes are off his assignment and just staring up at you 

- “Babe...can you like, pet my hair?” 

-  “What are you, a cat? I can’t type with one hand.” 

- “Then don’t type.” hoe closes your laptop for you while smirking, waiting for you to give him attention as you hit him with a deadpan stare

- “I should’ve known you were being quiet for too long.” 

- Closes his eyes and sighs in relief when you run a hand through his hair, making you shake your head as you open your laptop back up 

- Maybe you could type with one hand 

Akaashi

- Smart hoe is probably gonna be tutoring you with what you need help on

- Claims he’s not that smart, but passes classes without really trying

- Probably super patient with you, and gives you soft little praises when you get a problem right

-When you’re visibly stressed, he’d leave and come back with your favorite hot beverage while rubbing your shoulders until the tension leaves 

- When he’s doing his own assignments, you catch him tracing the pads of his fingers around the crevices in your hand absent-mindedly 

- You’re probably the one who gets more distracted than you’re genius boyfriend 

- “Akaashi, can we just cuddle?”

- “..Don’t you need to work more on this?” 

- “But...” When your lips form into a pout, he sighs before giving in, watching with a blank stare as you dive into his bed and under the covers, ready to nap 

- Rolls his eyes, but grabs a textbook on the subject you need help on before getting into bed with you and pulling you into his side, opening the book so you can study together

- he can’t help the small smile on his face when you whine, shushing you

- “Compromise, love, okay?” 

Iwaizumi 

- Would probably take you to study at a cafe w/ soft music in the background w/ comfy seats by the window

- Gets focused and into his work quickly, and releases a soft sigh after a few minutes, hands stilling over his keyboard 

- “Why are you staring at me?” 

- “You’re really cute.” 

- “Do your work, (y/n)” 

- You pout at the fact he hadn’t used your nickname before shoving in your earbuds and ignoring the look of confusion that passed his face when you actually listened without putting up a fight 

- Goes back to his own assignment after shrugging it off, reaching out to take your hand across the table 

- You pull your hand away innocently before he can do so, pretending to change the song on your playlist as you ignore the look of seriously? written across his face

- “Is there something wrong?” 

- “Nope, nothing at all, Iwa.” 

- You actually become involved w/ your work and don’t notice the realization dawn on to him before he scoffs and leaves the table, leaving you to sit alone

- wow what a bitch- 

- Until he comes back with two mugs of your favorite drink, reaching one out to you as you take it suspiciously 

- “Take a break, babe.” 

- When you visibly perk up he rolls his eyes as he blows the steam from his mug, a small smirk on the corner of his lips 

- “You’re too much.”

- “I love you too.” 

Oikawa

- For God sakes, this boy gets so distracted but his glasses make him hotter tho

- “Oikawa, physics isn’t like serving a volleyball-” 

- “Hear me out, okay? So, the volleyball has an intial velocity- are you with me?- and from there-” 

- “Baby, we’re studying English right now.” 

-Would probably share the space on one of your beds to do the assignment, you on the foot of the bed criss cross and him with his back pressed against the headboard with his legs stretched out 

- When you’re doing your own assignments with a focused look on your face, this hoe would poke your cheek, marveling at how you didn’t even react before continuing to do it

- You glance at his handsome self sideways “Hm. Are you bored? I couldn’t tell.” 

- “Ne, give me a kiss.” 

- “Oikawa no.” 

- “Please?” 

- “I said-” 

- “What, do you hate my kisses or something?” 

- “Can I please just work-” 

- Cuts you off mid-sentence with a peck on your lips as he retracts, a smirk on his features 

- “Okay. All energized now. Time to study!” 

-ugh this boy

- Gets invested in his own work after awhile, and when you finish before him you pull his glasses off his face before crawling into his lap with the frames now resting on your nose,

- the now closed laptop falls to his side as he eyes you with a smirk “Oho, what’s this?” 

- “Shut up. Done yet?” 

- “I am now, cutie. Let’s nap.” 

Bokuto

- ooooh boy good luck

- “Bokuto, it’s not the end of the world if you can’t do this problem. Stop pouting please, I don’t like seeing you sad.” 

- “If I can’t do this...what if I can never make you happy?” 

- “Babe whAt” 

- Gets easily depressed when he gets to a problem he can’t do, but boasts about himself when he’s able to do it with ease 

- “See that, baby? Yeah, I’m smart. You’re dating someone smart, how does it feel?” 

- “Bokuto, there are eight more.” 

-Nuzzles into your shoulder when he gets distracted, and physically pushes the papers you’re working on away when he wants attention 

- Random acts of affection here and there when you’re focused, including him gaping at how easily you seemed to be able to do your work compared to him, making him pepper your face with kisses out of nowhere

- “How are you cute and smart?! That’s not fair, give me some!” 

- Would study at a place with an outdoor patio, and you’d have to tap his forehead to stop his eyes from wandering every where else except his assignment

- “Babe, we can go on a date after this if you get your assignment done on time.” 

- You’ve never seen your boy more quiet and focused in your entire life 

Semi

- “Why don’t you understand this? It’s easy stuff! God, this is troublesome...” 

- “We can’t all be good at Trig, Semi. You don’t have to help me if you don’t want to.” 

- Semi blinks once, realizing his tone took on an edge that was borderline offensive as you remain unfazed, now looking up an online tutor to help you 

- “I...” 

- When you look up from your computer questioningly, Semi looks away quickly, looking embarrassed 

- “I didn’t mean to...” 

- “I know.” 

- would sit and do his work on the bed while you sat at his desk in silence, with him occasionally looking up at you once in a while, wondering why you were so quiet

- Semi, I’m just focused like damn- 

- when he can’t stand the silence anymore, you blink in question when he’s suddenly behind your chair as he slips the hair tie off your wrist, now pooling your hair from around your neck 

- “What are you doing?” 

- “You usually study with your hair up...”

- You smile a little, knowing this was his apology for snapping at you earlier with his temper 

- Strangely, his bun was super tight and efficient, and you lean your head back to look up at him from an upside down angle as he remains in his spot behind your chair 

- “I love you.” 

- Blushy tsundere boy turns beet red as you giggle, watching him stomp back to his spot on the bed in embarrassment 

- “What was that?” You turn slightly when he mumbles under his breath. 

- “I said I love you too! Is that a problem or something?” 

- “Ugh, come here.Let’s take a break. I’ll cuddle you.” 

- “Wha-? I’ll cuddle you dammit, not the other way around.” 

- “Yes, yes, whatever you say.” 

[moldisgoodforyou]

taking control

warning: nothing but smut (oral, choking). 18+ only 

wordcount: 3k

the teasing started with her outfit. it was the middle of january, but charlie wore a tiny miniskirt and a sheer long-sleeve top just to show off. the second she walked into jj’s room at beta for the pregame, jj shook his head. “absolutely not.” she grinned, giving him a little twirl. “it’s cute, right?” he grabbed his coat from his closet and wrapped her in it, zipping it up. it hung halfway down her legs, the sleeves going past her wrists. “there, let’s go.” jj nodded, satisfied. charlie rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “get over yourself, I look hot.” 

he laughed. “exactly why I don’t want you wearing that and going out!” she unzipped the jacket, throwing it at him. “who am I dating, dummy?” he caught it, sullen. “me.” she nodded and gave him a kiss. “right, exactly. so wouldn’t you want to show me off?” he rolled his eyes, taking her hand and lifting it to prompt her into a twirl. “yeah, yeah I guess.” she grinned. “the bars are calling, maybank.” 

_

three hours later at the bar, jj was seconds away from just taking charlie into the restroom and having his way with her there. she was teasing him endlessly, grinding against him, whispering dirty things into his ear, even going as far as knocking back the contents of an entire champagne flute without using her hands. (she knew she was in trouble after the look she got from jj for that one.) 

later, while charlie was getting another drink at the bar and she knew jj was surrounded by people, she chose that exact moment to text him a nude that she had taken earlier. it was tasteful, as far as nudes go - her arm draped perfectly across her breasts, the picture framed only from her neck down. it could technically be anybody (except for the tell-tale freckle just in between her collarbones). jj choked on his drink when he opened it, instantly shoving his phone back in his pocket and stalking up to find charlie at the bar. 

she grinned upon seeing him. “hey, maybank.” he looped his arm around her waist, steering her away from the bar. “hey. we’re leaving.” she played dumb but didn’t object. “why, something bothering you?” he let out a short laugh once they were outside. “yeah, something.” she smirked. “don’t you want to tell your friends goodbye?” he tightened his grip on her waist as they walked the short distance to her house. “they’ll understand after that little stunt you pulled. now my friends know exactly what you look like under that shirt.” she rolled her eyes. “everything was covered!” he squeezed her hip, possessive. “hardly.” 

_

the second they walked through the door to charlie’s house, jj’s demeanor flipped. “get your ass upstairs.” he commanded. charlie rolled her eyes, heading to the kitchen for whatever snacks she could find. “yeah, okay, give me a sec.” she replied sarcastically. 

jj stepped close and trapped her against the wall with his body, putting a hand above her head for leverage. “jj -” she tried, but he cut her off with a single finger pressed against her lips.

"you think you can try that shit with me all night and not expect any consequences?” he questioned, raising his eyebrows. she swallowed, surprisingly turned on by him being so commanding - then smirked and bit his finger, gentle. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he growled. “upstairs. now. I’ll be there soon.” he told her. she nodded with a grin and slipped out from under him, then went upstairs two steps at a time.

the anticipation was killing her and she shed her clothes, sitting on the bed in a lacy lingerie set. he tensed upon seeing her, entering the room with a cup and setting it on the nightstand. “this is what you’ve been teasing me with all night?” she nodded, leaning back on her elbows. “like it?” he quickly stripped down to his boxers as he walked over to the bed, tossing his shirt and shorts aside. “you’re a fucking tease,” he murmured into her ear, sending chills down her spine. “and I’m gonna make you pay.”

he met her lips with passion, heated. the two of them wrestled for dominance until he grabbed both her wrists, pinning her to the bed. she sucked in a breath, tensing. “you like that, don’t you, walker?” he smirked and let go of one wrist, trailing his finger down from her sternum to her stomach, stopping just above the waistline of her panties. she whined, softly. “j, please.” he grinned. “tell me what you want me to do, charlie. beg me for it.”

normally, she would complain at that - but tonight was different. she pressed her hips up off the bed. “maybank.” she protested. he raised his eyebrows. “beg.”

“I’m not going to -“

“then you’re not going to get a reward. beg.”

he raised his eyebrows, challenging her. she couldn’t concentrate on anything but his blue eyes and that cocky little smirk. “jj, please, touch me.” she breathed out and he nodded, tracing one finger up her inner thigh. “that wasn’t so hard now, was it? good girl.” he praised, trailing his finger just along the hem of her panties, but not any further.

her mouth was dry and she wet her tongue across her lips, already breathing a little faster. “I haven’t even done anything yet but you’re already wet for me, aren’t you, pretty girl?” he asserted, enjoying the way she squirmed. he let go of her other wrist, reaching behind her to unclasp her bra and toss it aside. jj leaned down and kissed her, hard. “you’re so fucking hot, charlie,” he murmured against her lips. she pressed her hips up against his for some friction and he shook his head, moving away. “patience, walker.” 

“you know I’m not patient.” she complained, wrapping an arm around his waist to pull him back. he shifted away, laughing. “I know. that’s why I want to test you tonight.” he paused, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “tell me if you need to stop, okay?” she nodded, catching his lips in a kiss. “words, charlie.” he told her. “yes, okay, I will.” she breathed out. 

“good.” he grinned and grabbed the cup from the nightstand, then pulled a slightly-melted ice cube out. she squealed and squirmed when he ran it along her collarbone. “don’t move,” he commanded. 

jj trailed the ice cube down her chest, lazily circling her nipples with it. charlie moaned, arching her back toward his touch and gritting her teeth at the sensation. he slid it down her body, then rested the ice cube in the center of her hips. “don’t let it fall,” he said, then ducked down and took her nipple into his mouth. she gasped at the sudden contact, arching her back again and making the ice fall. he pulled back right away, putting it back. “jj, please, do something.” she whined, threading her fingers through his hair. he removed her hand, a smirk tugging at his lips. “you’re not making this easy on yourself, pretty girl.” 

“I’ll take care of it myself if you won’t do anything.” she challenged, lifting her chin. he laughed. “no.” she reached down and palmed him through his boxers and he groaned, pulling his hips away. “you’re already hard, j, this would be more fun for both of us if we just fucked.” she tried convincing him, biting her lip for good measure. he shook his head and put the ice back in the cup, then ran his thumb over her lower lip, pulling it out from her teeth. “quit, walker. not fair.” 

“well it’s not fair when you - ohh.” 

she was cut off by jj pressing his thumb hard against her clothed clit. he smirked. “yeah, that’s what I thought.” jj pulled her panties down and tossed them aside, then lazily slipped a finger in, moving slowly. “jj, please.” she whined, pushing her hips up into his hand. “ask, sweetheart.” he instructed, continuing his slow motions. “give me more, maybank.” she pleaded. he slipped in a second finger, still going slow, then curled them toward himself. she moaned, closing her eyes. 

he kept pumping, keeping the same pace as he pressed his thumb against her clit. “fuck, j, I’m -” he pulled out his fingers quickly. her eyes snapped open and she propped herself up on her elbows. “jj!” he grinned and pressed his fingers against her lips. “suck.” she did so, annoyed - but not without biting them playfully. he rolled his eyes as her hand made her way to his waist, pushing the waistband of his boxers down. “charlie.” she just smirked, knowing this was the one way she could probably take control. “just let me.”

he groaned, fighting an internal battle in his mind - then just gave in, sitting back on the bed and kicking off his boxers. she grinned and rolled on top of him, kissing him long and slow. he curled a hand around her hip. charlie kissed down his neck, sucking on a certain spot at the nape of his neck, and he hissed through his teeth. “don’t leave a mark.” she laughed against his skin. “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want.” 

“you’re not in charge here,” he reminded her and she just rolled her eyes. “yes, sir.” he groaned, fisting a hand in her hair. “say that again.” she raised her eyebrows. “say what?” he tugged on her hair, hard enough to get a reaction, and she let out a breathy moan. “yes sir.” 

he nodded, pleased, and relaxed his hand, letting her continue kissing her way down his body. “I forgot that was a thing for you,” he remarked with a smirk. she blushed. “I didn’t know sir was a thing for you.” she blew gently on the head of his cock and he twitched, struggling to keep his hips still. “I want to see your pretty lips on me, charlie.” she nodded, taking him into her mouth slowly. he groaned right away and looked up at him through her eyelashes, starting to bob up and down. she wrapped her hand around the base of his cock, continuing the motions. “fuck, charlie,” jj mumbled, fisting the sheets. 

she hummed a little around him, speeding up her pace, and he groaned. “charlie.” she just kept going, trying to push his will. “charlie, I’m -” he barely got out before coming in her mouth. she swallowed with a slight grimace, pulling her lips off him with a pop. “fuck, sorry.” he got out, pressing his head back into the sheets. she smirked. “I got you that worked up just from some teasing at the bar?” 

“just from some teasing - you texted me a nude in public!” he exclaimed, catching his breath. she bit her lip with a grin. “I still don’t see how that was a problem.” he shook his head and pulled her close, hovering over her. “you’re going to wish you hadn’t teased.” 

she raised her eyebrows. “what do you mean?” he reached his hand down and traced his fingers up her inner thigh, making her shiver. “you’ll see.” he placed a single kiss on her lips, then pulled her to the edge of the bed and knelt down, licking his tongue flat up her soaked pussy. she shifted, sucking in a breath. “we gotta get you close again, charlie.” he murmured, flicking his tongue back and forth. she tangled her fingers in his hair, holding him closer to her. 

“fuck, j,” she moaned, rolling her hips toward his face. he traced his tongue across her clit, loving the way she sounded in response. jj continued his motions for a little until he heard her breathing speed up, signaling she was close - and pulled away. charlie kept her hand in his hair, trying to pull him back. “jj, come on.” he shook his head, moving up her body and pushing her back up onto the bed fully. 

he caught her lips with his, slipping his tongue into her mouth. she moaned against his lips and pressed her hips against his, trying for more friction. he shook his head, resting his forearm across her hips to pin her down. “no, walker.” she whined, biting down hard on his bottom lip. he pulled back, giving her a look. “now you’re really making it hard for yourself, pretty girl.” he got off her and stood. charlie grabbed at his hand, trying to pull him back. “where are you going?” 

“getting water. I’ll be back, just wait.” he tugged his hand out of her grip and left her there, naked on the bed, door cracked open. “jj, what the fuck!” she yelled after him as she heard his footsteps heading down the stairs. (she had never been more grateful her roommates were out for the night.) he smirked to himself, just hiding around the corner to make her wait. after a few minutes, he heard a moan from the bedroom and headed back upstairs. 

he caught her with her fingers pressed against her clit, hips pushing into her hand. 

“what the hell do you think you’re doing?” 

she continued tracing her finger in a figure 8 around her clit, keeping eye contact. he crossed his arms, watching her as he leaned against the doorway. “charlie walker.” 

she smirked, increasing her pace. “yeah, maybank?” 

he stalked over to the bed, pulling her hand away by the wrist. she arched her hips toward him, pouting. “j, please.” he shook his head, laying next to her. “no. now you don’t get to come.” her jaw dropped. “I gave you a blowjob!” he grinned. “I know, that was great, wasn’t it?” 

she wrestled back and forth with him for a second until he flipped her onto her back, pinning her forearms to the bed. “you’re so tense, charlie, why’s that?” he teased, pressing his length against her core. she rolled her hips. “because you’re a fucking tease,” she bit out. he smirked. “yeah, now you see how it feels. be good.” 

“jj.” she pleaded. he tugged at her hair and she moaned, shifting under him. he pulled his hips away again and charlie swore she was going to cry. “j, please, I need you in me.” he nodded and reached over to her nightstand, pulling out a condom. she grabbed it out of his hand, ripping the packet open with her teeth. he smirked. “eager.” 

“shut up.” she pinched the tip and rolled it down his cock, jacking him a couple times as she went. 

he groaned, pressing his hips against her hand. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’re not going to be able to walk straight tomorrow.” he growled into her ear. 

she raised her eyebrows, meeting him in a heated kiss. “is that a promise?” 

jj slid his cock against her entrance, teasing. “depends. are you going to be a good girl for me?” 

she swallowed. “yes, sir.” 

he thrust into her without warning and she cried out, her head pressing back into the pillows. “god, jj!” he snapped his hips against hers, keeping her forearms pinned against the bed. “let me touch you.” she whined, fighting against him. he shook his head, rocking in a steady pace with her. “ask again.” 

“fuck, j, just let me touch you - please?” he nodded at the please, releasing one of her arms. she wrapped her arm around him, pulling him closer, and ran her nails down his back. “fuck, you feel so good around my cock, sweetheart,” he groaned. 

“harder.” she panted out against his ear. instead, he slowed his pace, letting go of her other wrist. she made a noise of frustration. “god damnit, jj, just -” 

“just what?” he challenged. 

“fuck me, please, I can’t take it anymore.” she pushed her hips up against his, trying to get him to go faster. “sir.” she added for good measure. he smirked, pulling out of her - she cried out in frustration. jj tapped her hip. “turn over. be a good girl.”  

she turned and got on her hands and knees, pressing her ass up against his cock. “hard, j, please.” she begged. he slid his cock into her, curling a hand around her hip. “god, you’re so tight.” he groaned. he started thrusting into her, then paused. 

“maybank, if you don’t fucking do something -” charlie threatened - until she felt his hand tentatively wrap around her throat from behind. “that okay?” jj asked, resuming his pace. she nodded, pushing a little into his hand. “god, yes.” he smirked, snapping his hips faster. “you’re such a good girl for me, charlie,” he praised. she could barely think, letting out a pornographic moan. 

he railed into her, not holding anything back. “jj -” charlie panted out. “ask.” he commanded, not letting up. “fuck, can I - can I come? please?” he curled his fingers tighter around her hip. “go ahead, sweetheart.” she pushed against his hand wrapped around her neck, crying out, legs shaking. he thrust into her for a few more beats before he unraveled soon after, dropping his hand from her throat and slowly pulling out of her. she practically collapsed onto the bed, overwhelmed. 

he threw the condom away then returned to the bed, nudging her over to lay next to her. she cuddled into him, resting her head on his chest as he wrapped a protective arm around her. after a moment, they spoke at the same time. “that was -” jj started, charlie interrupting. “holy fuck, j, where did that come from?” he laughed a little, gently running his thumb along her neck. “I didn’t hurt you, did I? it was kind of a heat of the moment thing.” she shook her head quickly. “no, god - I mean, I might be a little sore tomorrow, but that was fucking hot. and unexpected.” 

he grinned. “yeah?” his hand trailed down from her neck and he tweaked her nipple experimentally - she twisted away, swatting at his hand. “hon, I can’t even think, much less go again.” she whined, shying into him. he laughed and pressed a kiss to her temple. “go to sleep, sweetheart. I got you.” 

she shifted, cuddling closer to him - then grinned. “yes sir.” 

he groaned, quiet, then tugged the end of her hair gently. “damn straight.”