#my hair has been bleaching pretty close to white the last few times so i think i'd be able to do a lighter color like tgat

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

hii! could i get a thatcher Davis x fem!reader (fluff + angst), where she's his new work partner (say he isn't presumed dead and went back to work) who wants to support him and comfort him while he opens up too her, they get closer and end up together within a few months as a couple and the WHOLE station is aware 😭

Awh yeah,,,,Gotta give this man love and support through all the Horrors(tm)

...............

"What? They're assigning her to me?"

"I really don't see why it's a problem, Davis..considering you forwarded her application. She's just as interested in investigating the Alternate threat as you are, so they figured you two could work together on-"

"But I thought I made it pretty clear that I wanted to work on future cases solo. Because the last time I had a partner-"

"Look, I understand losing Weaver was painful..but that was 17 years ago. And the higher-ups are getting worried about you taking on all these cases by yourself, especially with your extended leave and the close calls you've had with those things."

"...so they think I need a goddamn babysitter?"

"There's no need for hostilities, Davis."

"Sorry, captain. I mean no disrespect, but..do you all really trust me after what happened? I mean...I just don't wanna see one more person suffer for my mistakes, especially not some rookie.." Thatcher mumbled the last part under his breath, averting his gaze from his superior.

He heard them sigh, although their tone became more sympathetic as they spoke once more.

"You're all we got now, lieutenant, and I trust you're not gonna repeat the past. Think of this as your shot at redemption. This town's lost all hope in us, but I think [l/n] can help restore some of that morale with your guidance. All I ask is that you don't scare her into quitting before she finishes her first day, alright?"

Although silent, Thatcher nodded his head in understanding, and the police captain seemed satisfied with that answer. So they walked out to call you into the office, telling him to wait a few minutes.

The moment the door was closed, he slumped back into the chair, growing increasingly aggravated as he tapped his foot against the floor.

His hands were practically itching for a cigarette right now...or a drink.

Anything to distract him from the conflicting thoughts running through his mind.

It felt like Ruth had only been taken from him yesterday. He remembers how much he cried and forced himself to grieve alone, burdened with the knowledge that he couldn't tell the department the real story of that night--of how he basically left her to die.

Of course, a memorial service was held for her. But it didn't feel like a satisfactory goodbye.

It was far from that.

So for the higher-ups to suddenly decide he needed a "replacement" felt like a punch to the gut. It's like they didn't trust him anymore.

But he then recalled reviewing your application file on his computer, seeing that you indeed showed a lot of promise:

[F/n] [L/n]--a confident and kindhearted woman around his age who studied criminology in college, passed all of her training with flying colors, taught a self-defense class in her free time, and has a decade's worth of experience in security.

You had a good heart and described yourself as "headstrong" in your personality description.

"Sound familiar?"

Hearing the distorted voice, he snapped his head towards the shadow in the corner of the room, every muscle in his body suddenly tensing.

For a split second he thought he saw the whites of somebody's eyes...

His eyes-

"Lieutenant Davis, meet Officer [L/n]."

Thatcher blinked, coming back to reality as he realized the captain had returned, stepping aside to introduce you to him.

He awkwardly cleared his throat and stood up, shaking your hand in greeting.

You politely reciprocated the welcome, although you were initially surprised by his bleached hair and facial piercings. If you were at any other police station, you would've thought he was violating the dress code.

But then again, with the Alternates running amuck it was probably best for him to look highly distinguishable from the average person (and as far as you're aware, they aren't clever enough to perfectly mimic piercings or tattoos).

Nevertheless, you were quite eager to work with the well-known lieutenant who's been here the longest.

However as soon as the captain left, he dropped his smile and gave you a rather ominous word of advice:

"Never get too attached to anyone."

In another life, he would have been more enthusiastic about training a rookie officer. But while giving you a tour of the station and all its rooms, his nihilism kept taking over his speeches.

It wouldn't let him shake the awful feeling that he basically sealed your fate...that being you could possibly die to an Alternate under his watch.

Specifically the one that's been tormenting him all these years. He still hasn't told the MCPD about it. He just can't.

It'll probably try to come for you next.

So he tried to keep his emotions at a distance so it wouldn't hurt him in the long run.

Yet you didn't let his attitude discourage you from asking questions and being as optimistic as you could, given the circumstances. You figured he's just seen some really shitty stuff in his career, understanding that's why he acted so closed-off.

At least he sounded nice in the emails.

.......

In the weeks following you being hired at the MCPD and working alongside Thatcher, things...have gotten interesting.

But they started off fairly grim.

He was still struggling to get out of bed and drag himself to the police station, trying to hide the fact he barely cared about his job anymore. His superiors sometimes had to call him in with threats of suspension, and he'd arrive looking constantly exhausted.

It's always been this way...with the exception of you asking if he was alright or getting him coffee if he forgot to make some. And while he accepted the drinks, he'd brush off any and all concerns you had over his health.

You shouldn't have to worry over him so much.

During your shifts together, you'd accompany him to places where Alternates were recently sighed (or their victims) and ask witnesses questions, or at the station where you'd review files and video footage regarding the most recent incidents, taking notes of whatever you find that he might've missed--and vice versa.

He'd often look back on files regarding the "Heathcliff Case", staring at the details even though he's reviewed them at least a hundred times over. He never elaborated on why he was so transfixed on them.

Could he really tell you that's where he immediately failed up as a lieutenant?

Absolutely not.

The one thing he kept putting off for weeks was training you on taking 911 calls--specifically those regarding an Alternate home invasion. He'd make excuses to show you other things whilst passing the headset to a different operator or officer, leading you to being confused but going along with him anyways.

It's not that he didn't believe you could handle it...he's just afraid of what you'll think when he tells you about the protocol.

However his superiors eventually caught on with his excuses and assigned you both strictly to the call center for a day.

When the first one came through, he had no choice but to instruct you through the process.

In all honesty, you felt sick to your stomach when you lied to the poor victim who said an Alternate was in her home, reassuring her calmly that help will arrive soon....when it's not coming at all. Even worse was when she begged you to stay on the line until they "arrived", although a short while later she didn't respond when you asked for a description of the intruder.

Then the call disconnected.

You had no idea if she was dead or forced to hang up, but you were irritated by Thatcher's nonchalant attitude about it, especially as he remarked that she was already "gone".

You both got into a brief argument about the cruelty of this "protocol". Of course, you knew it wasn't his fault that it was established this way, but you wished he showed a little more empathy.

Fortunately, the tension was short-lived as you received another call.

Calming yourself, you sat back down in the chair and donned the headset, dreading yet another home intruder report that you won't be able to save this person from. But you took a couple deep breaths before answering it, with the lieutenant listening to you closely.

"This is Mandela County Police, how may I help you?" You put on your most sincere voice.

"H-Hi, um..I know this isn't a real emergency so it's gonna sound stupid. Bu, I-I just..I'm very stressed about school and I need to talk to somebody. D-Do you mind if I rant?"

"...oh! Of course, hun." Immediately you were thrown off-course when you heard a timid teenager's voice on the other end instead of a panicked adult. "I'm not exactly a licensed mental health counselor, but I promise to listen for a bit."

"What?" Thatcher furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "No, no, no. [L/n], tell this kid to get off the emergency line and call th-"

You ignored him and listened to the teen vent about their anxieties regarding the Alternate situation. They didn't understand why everybody else at school acted like this was the "new norm" when it shouldn't be, as their grades began to falter and they struggled to sleep at night.

At one point they began sobbing over the phone, afraid they won't have a future to look forward to, but you reassured them their fears were valid and that they're not alone with these feelings.

Although it felt like a white lie..you told them everything was going to be okay, and shortly after that they settled down.

Meanwhile Thatcher, who was at first livid over you blatantly disregarding his instructions, listened to your voice and realized how...sweet and nurturing you sounded towards this kid--suddenly no longer wanting to intervene and terminate the call himself.

Now that he thought about it...when's the last time an officer here ever answered a call that genuinely helped someone?

The fact he couldn't remember was telling.

"I think I handled that well."

Snapping out of his thoughts, he looked to see your smug grin as you switched off the headset, having finished the call. But when you saw his face, it disappeared and you sighed, knowing he was probably pissed off.

"Look, before you given me a write-up, I know that wasn't a "real" emergency, but I'm sure I saved that kid from spiraling into one."

"No, you have a point. I'm not gonna write you up." He reassured you. "I thought they were gonna say something about their math homework."

"Well, if their biggest concern is homework and not an Alternate..then I guess there's hope for the youth in this county." You chuckled. "So what's next, lieutenant?"

"....dunno. We're almost off the clock. You wanna....grab some coffee afterwards?"

You blinked. "Huh? Like..in the breakroom?"

"Nah I mean uh..at the gas station. I need to buy some food there anyway. Got nothing for dinner at home so.." He shrugged his shoulders; although part of him regretted mumbling that last bit considering the worried look you suddenly gave him. "...uh I mean-"

"Why don't I treat you to dinner instead?" You offered, which made him do a double-take. Though you quickly backtracked, your face flushed as you realized he could've taken that the wrong way. "I don't mean that a-as like...a date or...anything like that. There's a diner downtown you might've already been to but-"

"It's fine. I know the one you're talking about." He spoke up, smiling a little bit. "I actually haven't been there at all. But if you insist I'll...take the offer. Might as well get to know each other better."

While surprised he immediately accepted the invitation, you couldn't help smiling back before another call came through, and you focused on answering it. This time Thatcher didn't intervene and simply let you work while he occupied himself at another computer.

Suddenly both of you were very eager for the last hour of your shift to pass by.

...........

The "date" at the local diner went relatively well, with you and Thatcher chatting about recent cases and personal interests.

He didn't say a whole lot about himself, claiming his life was "boring" and asked more about yours instead. But it turns out you two shared similar tastes in movies and music, recommending stuff to each other and even exchanging personal numbers after dinner.

He mentioned a story of how he started playing heavy metal music in the station back when he was a rookie officer like you, getting his first write-up for it.

It made you laugh, and it was in that moment where he felt...the smallest of butterflies in his stomach.

At the time, however, he thought it was just anxiety. So he tried not to think too much of it as you both parted ways, seeing each other back at the station for your next shifts.

But ever since that night, you've been spending a lot more time together outside of work--to the point where, a month later, Thatcher felt comfortable enough to invite you over to his place.

Obviously he had to clean up so it looked more "presentable" to you...something he hasn't done nor cared about in years until meeting you.

He didn't know how or why, but you've considerably uplifted his spirits, pulling him out of this dark ditch he's been lying in for so long. He enjoyed your company and gave him reasons to come into the station on time.

Even his coworkers noticed and were impressed, with some teasing him about having a "crush" on you.

That reality did hit him, though...he did love you. You've been his motivation and inspiration. The light in his dark world.

Yet despite genuinely looking forward to seeing you, he was still putting up his usual front..as he was, in fact, feeling more stressed than ever before.

When he first met you, he warned you to not get attached to anybody--and here he was being a goddamn hypocrite.

Surprisingly enough, that Alternate hasn't shown its face in a long time. No longer did it invade his home, whispering nonsense and taunting threats in the dead of night; it led him to wonder if it grew bored of toying with him and decided to look elsewhere for a new victim, realizing he wasn't giving into MAD.

Could you have somehow driven it off without knowing?

He stopped believing in angels long ago, but part of him wants to believe you're one in disguise.

Perhaps..she knew he desperately needed one and sent you to help him when he lost all hope.

Yet you still didn't know anything about what happened that awful night, nor the mounting pressure Thatcher has put on himself after all these years. He just wasn't sure how to bring it up and explain everything without you calling him "crazy".

But it was killing him to keep all of this inside, though he felt like he had to..lest you thought of him as a weakly coward.

He's your superior. You should be looking up to him and counting on him for help, not the other way around. He even told himself he wasn't going to burden you with his past mistakes.

At the same time, you were the kindest and most nonjudgmental soul on the planet. He learned this firsthand that day you took that anxious teen's 911 call and assured them there was hope for their future.

That's where he first believed you were someone who could be trusted.

Even if you couldn't fix everything right away...you'd listen, and maybe that's the kind of person Thatcher needed in his life all along.

He knew that eventually you'll wanna ask him about that night, and he thinks he'll be ready to do so very soon.

Besides, he's going to run out of cassette tapes at some point.

.......

On the anniversary of Ruth's passing, both you and Thatcher had the day off.

You figured you'll sleep in and not disturb him, knowing he probably wanted to be alone today. But you did send one message to check up on him, saying you're always here to support him should he ever need it.

You knew him and Ruth used to be good friends back in the day, having accepted their promotions together and speaking publicly on live television. The MCPD still retained the footage, and you watched it on your work computer, smiling as they made their speeches to the community.

If only you were there to congratulate them both...

Your superiors remarked how he never truly did get over her death, acting like it's some huge "inconvenience" that he struggled to move on.

But even you knew that it's not that easy.

How could one simply "move on" after losing a close friend to one of those monsters? It's certainly difficult and painful, though you've wondered about the circumstances of her passing, always hearing everybody except Thatcher himself talk about it.

Was there a reason?

Did they twist the story?

You weren't sure, and you didn't think he'll be willing to give you any answers.

Especially not today.

Yet a short while later, you heard your laptop make a ping noise to indicate a new message and rushed to open it, reading his response:

[Thank you, [y/n]. If you're not too busy, could you come over in an hour? There's some things I wanted to talk about. I trust you enough]

You felt your heart skip a beat, wondering what he possibly could've wanted to discuss. But you were flattered that he trusted you, considering you didn't think he'd ever grow this close to you.

You simply replied "I'll be there" and hit send before getting ready, heading to his place an hour later.

Apparently he was expecting you, as before you could even knock on the door, he opened it up instead. And for a moment you stood there, taking in his appearance.

He looked like absolute hell, as though he just crawled out of bed, wearing a baggy band T-shirt with black pants. The dark circles around his eyes have gotten considerably worse, too, making him almost look skeletal-like.

Not to mention he reeked of smoke and cheap booze, both scents masked with cologne, but you didn't let it stop you from hugging him. "I got here as soon as I could." You said, smiling as he returned the hug. "How are you feeling?"

"...alright, I guess. Thanks. Hope I wasn't bothering you."

"You weren't, trust me." You shook your head, before letting each other go.

After heading inside, you noticed all the window blinds were drawn shut and the TV was droning in the background, showing some 90s flick. If not for the screen's light, then the entire living room for sure would've been pitch black.

You didn't see any reason to remind him of the laws concerning TVs and mirrors, being more worried about whatever he wanted to discuss with you.

Yet even as you both sat down on the couch, he found himself hesitating. He knew this was going to be a difficult conversation, but despite reaching out to you....he suddenly didn't feel ready anymore.

He started to regret ever sending that message in the first place.

You had to be the one to push him.

"So what did you wanna talk about? And don't tell me you were an Alternate this entire time.." You lightly joked, although when you noticed him staring vacantly at the TV, hands trembling as he turned the volume down, you realized your mistake. "..I'm sorry, Thatch. I shouldn't be kidding around on a day like-"

"It's okay."

"N-No, it's..it's fine. I'm not one of those things, I promise." He shook his head, trying to bite back the tears burning in his eyes as he turned to you. His heart was already hammering in his chest, throat feeling dry as he tried to keep his voice steady.

"It's just...fuck...where do I begin? A-And how can I say this without sounding selfish or crazy-?"

Blinking, Thatcher realized you had taken his shaking hand into your own, your thumb gently brushing over the back of it. And once again, he felt those familiar butterflies in his stomach..

He's never really felt this sort of kind touch..ever.

"Just take your time. I'm not going anywhere." You reassured him, feeling him squeeze his hand around yours tightly.

"..you sure you won't..tell anyone?" He asked, wishing he didn't already sound so pathetic. "Even if it were to change how you see me?"

"Whatever it is, it'll stay between us. I promise."

With that final confirmation...he told you everything.

He explained what happened to Ruth on this very night and the endless guilt of "abandoning" her that's haunted him since. He confessed to running away from the site out of fear when she vanished, without ever checking to see if she was even alive, never saying anything except she was MIA.

He also spoke of this weight he's been carrying all this time, still trying to be the "brave" and "heroic" lieutenant that everybody expects him to be and how he couldn't show any weakness, lest he let them all down...you included.

For years he was shamed for being a coward, when nobody knew that he and the entire department were just as terrified and helpless against those monsters as anyone. He mentioned not being able to sleep anymore...as the one who killed Ruth still remembers and taunted him every night over his failure.

It never made him forget, and some days he wished it was him who died instead.

Just so he didn't have to keep living with this burden.

He managed to speak calmly for the most part, uninterrupted by you. But he eventually broke down into tears when he tried explaining why he attempted to act cold towards you all those months ago.

Somewhere along the line, he spilled his true feelings of how he loved you and wanted to protect you but was far too scared of repeating his past mistakes, fearing that you'll end up just like-

However, you brought him into your arms before he could finish that statement, uttering something simple yet comforting that he needed to hear after all this time:

"It wasn't your fault."

And he immediately crumbled in your embrace, defeated as he quietly sobbed into your shoulder. He was unable to stop himself from clinging to you like some helpless child, but he didn't care anymore.

This felt a hundred times more cathartic than ranting on a cassette tape and writing letters to a dead person.

For some time, you held him without any judgement, rubbing his back as his emotions kept spilling forth. You wish you could kill the bastard that ruined his entire life...though this was all you could offer in the present.

And it was more than enough.

But as you comforted him, it finally sank in that this guy confessed to you, and you couldn't help but press a gentle kiss to his head, affirming that you reciprocated his feelings.

It seems he opened up to you in more ways than one.

"I love you too, Thatch." You muttered after he fell silent, to which he lifted his head up and looked at you with surprise.

"R-Really? You mean that?" He wiped at his watery eyes, slowly pulling out of the hug.

"Of course, why would I lie?"

"Well..uh...y-you just saw your "superior" have a freak out." Sniffling lightly, he looked down at his lap, the embarrassment catching up to him. "This is who I really am, [y/n]...just a loser crying like a baby over shit that happened nearly 20 years ago-"

"Hey. You're not a loser." You frowned a bit, taking both of his hands into yours. "Whether it's 20 years or 20 minutes..grief still hurts like a bitch, especially if you never confided in anybody until now. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

Thatcher nodded, his head feeling considerably clearer for the first time in ages. He was just relieved you didn't shun him. "Thanks for that...I've just..i-it's been hell, and...."

However, he trailed off as you leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek, both of you becoming equally flustered at what you just did on impulse.

It felt like you were both back in highschool, being two lovesick idiot teenagers who just shared their first kiss--except one was a lieutenant and the other a rookie cop.

He stared at you for some time, before smiling a bit. "How long have you been wanting to do that?"

"....a while." You admitted. "But..are you sure this is alright? Considering we work together, it might be...um-"

"What they don't know won't hurt 'em. So...now that everything's out there, you wanna go on an official "date" to that diner later?"

"I thought you'd never ask! But only if you're okay enough to. I don't want you to feel like I'm dragging you out of-"

"You're not. I need to get my ass up anyways."

---Two Weeks Later--

"Is it true that you're going out with the lieutenant??"

"Wha...who said that??" Stopping at one of the call operators' desks, you noticed her smug grin and stared back at her suspiciously. "Who else knows?"

"Uh, literally everybody here has known since last week. I haven't seen that guy smile in years until you came along. So whatever you did to drag him out of his shell...good job." She chuckled. "You must feel pretty lucky."

"Ah.." Flustered that you got so defensive so quickly over a known fact--that you and Thatcher were officially a couple--you just shook your head, flashing a tiny smile at her. "Thanks, but honestly he keeps telling me that he's the lucky one."

"That's fair. Before your break, can you run this file by him? It's for the case he's on."

"Sure." You took the folder and headed off to find your boyfriend at his desk, filing a report.

Only when you approached did he look away from the screen, a smile on his face. "Hey, you."

"Hey, you." You quickly pecked him on the lips, setting the folder down onto the table. He grumbled something about "PDA" and "staying professional", but you just rolled your eyes at his complaints. You can tell he wished the kiss was longer.

"I'm still your superior, y'know."

"Understood, "boss"..so what's the incident this time?" Curious, you peered over at his computer screen.

"A recent sighting of a supposed "child Alternate" that murdered the real kid's dad in the middle of the night," he explained, sipping his coffee. "It spared the actual person it mimicked, though..which is kinda weird, but I don't feel sorry for the bastard considering his criminal record. He lied in court just to get custody of a kid he didn't even give a shit about."

"Huh, interesting.." You hummed. "Maybe some Alternates can feel a sense of injustice around them? Or empathy?"

"I doubt it. They just mimic what they see and hear." He shrugged. "Once I finish this up I'll join you on break, okay?"

"Okaaay." You sighed dramatically, ruffling his hair up a little. "Don't work too hard, dear."

All you got was a small nod in return as Thatcher went back to typing, and you headed to the breakroom. But you could easily tell he was ready to keel over at the endearing nickname you've given him. That coffee mug couldn't hide the light blush that dusted his face no matter how hard he tried.

He's well aware of the risk he took by opening up to you, especially on the day where he felt he was at his lowest--something he never wanted anybody to see.

But he's glad he took that chance. Now that he knew you'd have his back, loving him and supporting him unconditionally, he was going to try his hardest to protect you.

And if that Alternate decided to come back?

He'll make sure it doesn't get to even breathe near you.

Not on his watch.

[linnorabeifong]

🪡 The scene you worked the hardest on in any fic?

👀 What’s an idea you had for a fic that you never did anything with?

🪡 The first one is so hard to think of. All scenes are hard af for me because I’m so new to writing and so afraid of the crazy ideas my brain churns out.

I think “The Wedding” tbh because I so badly wanted to put the audience in Lin’s head space and show the brutality of her disorder. But I was also afraid that the scene would come out poorly and not be well received.

I didn’t want to cross some sort of invisible line, you know ? I also was afraid that it would come off as glamorizing eating disorders or that it would trigger someone. But then I thought about it and decided that tags and trigger warnings were sufficient and I realized that there was nothing glamorous about what I was writing. She’s at a party and she should be having a great time and instead she’s nearly dying in a bathroom all alone.

I got over my fear and just wrote it (actually wrote it mid concert because the anxiety of the night inspired anx!ous Lin) .

I wanted it to be beautiful in a way. It sounds weird but its because I find Lin as a character to be not only physically beautiful but spiritually too. She’s hauntingly beautiful. She pretty the way gray rainy days and cemeteries are. A kind of beauty you’re afraid to touch. Yet her suffering is so thorough that it’s shocking and the graphic nature of it is well… beyond gross.

so here is the scene, you have been forewarned the last person who read it messaged me and said "made me want to vomit"

major TW for blood, vomiting and eating disorders

"She can’t stop. Even though she wants to. Even though she is fighting against the urge desperately. Even though there is no food left to bring up. A metallic taste fills her mouth. Blood, Warm, red. Gushing, grunting, gripping the porcelain.

Choking. There is no air left in her lungs. She can’t breathe. She sits on the tile of Pema’s bathroom. She notices the blood dripping all over the ground. She would have to clean it, or else be given away by stained tile.

Blood. Dripping all over her clothes.

Blood. Red against her white face .

She feels warm and cold at the same time. She curls up into a ball. Her throat stings, her head is spinning. She closes her eyes.

Relief. After a few moments of desperate struggling she could breathe again. She pulls herself up off of the floor. Turns on the sink, cleans her hands, rinses out her mouth. Splashes her face. She glances in the mirror noting her messy hair and the blood and puke soaking her clothes. She fixes her hair and cleans her clothes off to the best of her abilities.

Her face is puffy.

Her eyes are watery and red.

She looks like shit.

Thump thump thump

Her thoughts are interrupted by loud knocking.

She freezes.

“Aunt Lin, are you in there ?”

She pauses for a moment.

“Yeah”

“I’ve been looking for you”

“You have ?”

“Yeah you disappeared two hours ago”

Shit.

“Are you ok ?”

“I’m fine” she said very unconvincingly, cringing internally at the hoarseness of her own voice.

Opal makes a sound of disagreement .

She has to get Opal to leave. She has to clean up the blood before anyone comes in here. The room smells of blood, and her clothes. Her clothes smell horrible, the metallic scent of blood mingled with the pungency of sick. She smells like death.

She doesn’t have any time. She quickly grabs the hand towels hanging up next to the sink and sopps up the blood off the floor. She throws the dirty towels in the hamper in the corner. She throws open the cabinet under the sink.

Tampons, nail polish remover, toothpaste.

Then she finally finds the cleaning supplies, sponges, bleach, peroxide, soap. She thanks the spirits.

“Are you sure you’re okay ?”

It was sweet that she cared.

“I’m fine, sweet heart just had too much to drink”

“Do you need me to get Kya ?”

“No,” Lin says immediately, too insistently .

The last person she wants to see her like this is Kya.

She sets to work scrubbing up the stain and then throws the sponge she used in the bin.

The room was clean. It was like it never happened."

Here is the whole chapter

👀 I have a thousand unwritten ideas.

A) College AU where Lin and Zolt are both professors and hate each others guts. Enemies to lovers. Could be cute but I don’t know if it’s a bit… done ?

B) Lin getting murdered by Tarrlok? It happens in city hall and there’s an irony in it because help is right there. Tenzin is right there. Kind of weird but the thought was like a poem. Like the heart beat Edgar Allen Poe poem. Except for it’s her blood dripping… and other sounds. It was a halloween idea but I decided it was too gruesome and never actually wrote it.

C) Another idea I had was what if some how Lin was Mako’s mother ? Like actually biologically his mom and it’s a huge secret. Too messy timeline wise for me to figure it out. If I figured that out who would his father be ? Why did she choose to not raise him ? Why didn't she find him after his parents died ? Too many plot holes for me. Maybe I'll try one day.

I have so many more but this is already a novel. Thank you so much for the ask <3 . I'm glad to answer more.

[fantabulisticity]

On a happier note, my hair absolutely fucks! The back section was supposed to be more aqua, but the purple streaks in it turned it into a dark blue (which looks great also).

[fairyoftbz]

lavande | l. hyunjae

🥡 pairing: crush!hyunjae x fem!reader 🥡 wc: 3.2k 🥡 genre: fluff, university au, slice of life 🥡 tw: none? i think? 🥡 synopsis: as you are talking to Chanhee, your crush appears in the lecture room, leaving you with a hammering heart. 🥡 a/n: it's already Monday again, so posting time!! i wrote this because i kinda miss uni without covid, I had such a good time back in 2019 😩 feedback is always appreciated!! <33 🥡 requested: yes, thank you! i hope it's good enough!!

╰☆☆☆☆╮

“Have you done the readings we were supposed to?” Chanhee whispered in your ear as you turned on your computer, the screen remaining black made you frown as you quickly glanced at your friend, hand deep in your backpack to find your charger.

“Wait, let me guess. With the abandoned puppy eyes you're giving me, you want me to summarise what this was about, am I right?"

“Please Y/N, I didn't have time this week, it has been so hectic! I promise I'll buy you a coffee," you waved your hand in front of your face to let him know that he didn't need to, and you leaned your arm under the table to look for a plug while summarising what you had understood to your friend.

He listened intently until his eyes looked over your head, a smirk forming on his mouth. You frowned for a split second but continued your explanation, noticing that the smile didn't want to leave Chanhee's face. You deeply sighed, trying to make your friend pay attention, but it was to no avail. He was busy looking at something else.

“Are you listening to me, or am I talking to my computer?” you asked, and your friend returned your attention to you, his puppy look made you shake your head and roll your eyes. He looked behind you one last time, and you turned around in frustration, your breath getting stuck in your throat as you discovered what was amusing Chanhee so much.

You did a double-take when you noticed the man standing at the entrance, your pulse quickening as your hands became sweaty and hot. Every student around you, including Chanhee holding your arm to hear the rest of your explanation, disappeared from your field of view. You only had eyes for the one who stole your heart without realising it.

Hyunjae pushed the lecture door open and held it out for the group following him, politely nodding at the blushing girl that thanked him. He pursed his lips and scanned the auditorium, trying to find a familiar face to sit next to. The air was stuffy and odorous, the young man cursing the caretakers for not ventilate it more often as he was almost sweating because of his outfit. His white turtleneck and pants, as well as the lavender sweater, were thick enough for him to be warm to walk from his apartment since it was still quite chilly in the morning, but he felt like he was wearing winter clothes in the middle of a heatwave when he entered this room.

“Wow,” you murmured under your breath and looked down on your phone, trying to hide your attraction for him from your friends around you, your right hand holding your head up, hiding your eyes at the same time. You heard Chanhee mockingly exhale through his nose as he noticed you munching on your bottom lip, a habit of yours he had caught a glimpse of you doing when you were stressed or embarrassed. In this current case, you were both.

Tugging on the collar of his white turtleneck, Hyunjae sighed in annoyance as he walked down the first few steps. Cursing himself for arriving so late, he sighed as the only remaining seats were in the first few rows, where he had almost 99% of the chance of getting chosen by the professor to answer a question. He dropped his bag from his shoulder onto the table as he looked at the rows again, his eyes immediately discerning the funny stickers at the back of your computer.

“It won’t hurt anyone if I just check where he is,” you thought, but it was probably the worst idea you’ve ever had because your eyes met his dark, chocolate ones, his eyebrows lifting in relief when he recognised other familiar faces in your row.

“Y/N, you’re drooling, be careful,” your friend Chanhee whispered in your ear, teasing as you looked away from Hyunjae and wiped your mouth as quickly as possible, warmth flooding your veins as you keep your finger pressed on the power button of your computer. Your best friend laughed at your antics, but you turned a blind eye to him and mentally cursed yourself for not being as wary as you thought you were.

“Idiot, how could you be discreet if you made direct eye contact with him?” You shook your head at this thought and took a deep breath, inwardly praying that he would sit far from you as you mindlessly scrolled down through your notes.

“Hyunjae, over here!” Sunwoo stood up and raised his deep voice over all the hubbub of the auditorium, pointing at the empty spot between you and Chanhee. It was reserved for Eric who was running late, but you noticed the vacant seat next to Sunwoo and whined. You swore that the rest of the row was packed when you arrived, but it looked like a spot magically freed itself when Hyunjae appeared. It was as if your friends had planned this behind your back.

“Can I sit here?” A gentle, deep voice said, and you looked up. Much to your dismay, it was Hyunjae. “Uh, s-sure,” you stumbled on your sentence as if it were your first time speaking, closing your eyes and inner face palmed yourself at the mess you had just become in a matter of seconds.

You gathered your belongings and held them against your chest as you stood up and sat next to Chanhee, giving your crush your now empty spot. Placing your bag on the floor, you turned your head to the right and stared at your friends, only to find them laughing and bickering together. Changmin was imitating your bashful answer, and Sunwoo’s smug grin painted on his face as he cheekily winked at you, everything confirming your doubts that this situation was one of their playful plans. You sighed in exasperation and typed the title of your notes on a new document as if the entire situation weren’t bothering you.

“Thanks,” Hyunjae said as he sat down, and your heart skipped a beat when you heard his gorgeous voice that caused the hairs on your arms to stand up. His smile made him ten times more attractive, and your heart seemed to struggle to cope with his beauty.

You tried your best to ignore your crush’s presence on your left as you typed down your notes at high speed, but it was harder than you thought. He was close, too close for you to function properly and pay attention to the lecture, his presence and cologne distracting you. There were times where you could feel his gaze on you when you were typing or taking a sip of water, your hands immediately tensing and jolting under the pressure of his aura.

As the lecture finally finished, you quickly packed up your stuff and zipped your backpack before putting it on your shoulders. You didn’t even bother saying goodbye to your friends as you stood in your seat and jumped on the table of the higher row behind you to escape your group. Kevin tried to hail you by calling your name, but you were quick to pace towards the exit and vanish into the mass of the crowd.

You almost reached the library, your safe area where you always sought comfort and peace when a hand gently caught your wrist, your eyes immediately drawn to the familiar lavender knitted sleeve. You breathed heavily at the warmth of the slender hand, and you turned around to face none other than your crush.

“Gosh, you were walking so fast,” he chuckled as he finally got you, his hold still wrapped around your wrist blasting electricity through your veins. The contact felt pleasant, yet it felt so wrong to be this close to him. “I wanted to ask you something before the lecture ended, but you disappeared,” Hyunjae smiled as his cheeks became the prettiest shade of pink you had ever seen. You shyly smiled, muttering a soft apology, and you frowned, not letting him time to say another word.

He opened his mouth to say something when you drew him behind one of the colossal pillars holding up the second floor as you saw Chanhee’s bleached hair peeking out from an opened auditorium door, spying on you two. Hyunjae looked confused but let you drag him anyway.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” You tried to look unbothered, but your fidgeting hands betrayed you, making your crush smile. “Hum yeah, I was wondering if you wanted to have lunch with me today?” he asked, looking straight into your eyes, a big, bashful smile decorating his face. "I know a good café not too far from college, so I was wondering if-” “S-sure, why not?” you blurted out, and you heard muffled laughs coming from behind Hyunjae.

You both peeked out and noticed your friends piled up on top of each other, trying to listen to the conversation you were having with your crush. You sighed and shook your head in annoyance, tired of the lack of privacy your love life was experiencing every day because of them, Eric laughing even louder for getting caught eavesdropping like that.

A hand landed on your shoulder, and you felt a breath near your ear, making your heart skip a few beats in a row.

“Let’s go before they follow us, okay?” you glanced at Hyunjae, and he looked at you with something in his eyes that made your chest tighten, making the process of breathing troublesome. He grinned at your state and innocently grabbed your clammy hand as you two sped off towards the exit and ran past your friends into the mob.

As you slowed down in the streets, trying to look as civil as possible, you readjusted your backpack strap and caught your breath while laughing, Hyunjae smiling as brightly as you did. He found your laugh so pretty and light-hearted, he felt internally lucky to be part of the reason for it. You went down to the end of the street, still walking close to him, and he paused in front of a takeaway place. Holding the door for you, you shyly thanked him and entered the restaurant, the smell of Chinese food making your stomach grumble in hunger.

“Choose whatever you want, it’s on me,” you turned around and immediately backed up a bit, startled by the proximity of you two. Hyunjae only smiled, and you turned your attention back to the food. “Really?” you asked, and he snickered at your shocked state, nodding with a soft smile on his face. "Gosh, I am so hungry,” you muttered under your breath as your eyes roamed on the menu above your heads, heavily breathing as you were still trying to catch your breath back from the sprint you had just run to escape from your foolish friends.

Relief rushed through your veins when he took the reins and ordered for the two of you, your mouth uttering thank-yous like a mantra, only to have your crush waving it off.

“Y/N, it’s okay, don’t worry about it!” he said, and you stopped to look at him, Hyunjae beaming at you while grabbing the paper bag with your steamy food at the bottom. You quickly seized some napkins and disposable utensils and walked back to Hyunjae, who was already outside, waiting for you. “So, where are we going now?” he said, and you shrugged, looking around you, not knowing anything only outside from the library. “I know a good place, it’s not far from here,” you vaguely pointed to your right, and Hyunjae immediately started walking. “Let’s go before the food gets cold!” he exclaimed and let you take the lead.

It was a small park hidden a few streets away from your university, meeting other students since there was another park inside the campus. Bowing down to pat the grass a few meters away from the artificial pond, you sat down as it was dry, but Hyunjae handed you the food and took out his folded waterproof jacket from his bag. Placing it on the ground, he gestured you to come and sit with him.

“Here, come sit with me, you’ll be more comfortable,” he said, and you obeyed, your knees touching as you set the paper bag down next to you and handed him his food and drink. Your proximity didn’t leave you indifferent, but you tried your best to hide it as much as possible.

Hyunjae noticed your little change of behaviour and found you adorable when you looked away at each of his compliments. Your arms were now touching since his jacket underneath you wasn’t a picnic tablecloth, and you were slowly getting used to his body warmth surrounding you.

As the lunch break went by, you talked about your respective majors, and you joked about the shared lecture of this morning, getting closer and closer to each other. He was kind-hearted and became more comfortable when you were alone, gently nudging you in the elbow when you were about to lift your chopsticks to your mouth, the noodles falling back into your bowl. Wiping your mouth with a napkin, you were quick to nudge him back and laugh, still careful not to stain any of his clothes.

“You… look really nice today. I like those colours on you,” you complimented him, and he smiled at your hesitant voice, taking a sip of soda before answering. “Thank you Y/N, I appreciate it,” you nodded and started chewing on your bottom lip, eyes divagating towards the pond surrounded by plants and flowers. “You look really pretty as well,” he whispered in your ear, and you froze at his words, your heart skipping a beat as he had seized the opportunity of you letting your guard down as you were paying attention to the pond. You offered him a soft smile and took a sip of your drink as well to try and calm your racing heart.

He kept playing with it since he was having fun by making you embarrassed and shy with his compliments and proximity. Hyunjae knew that it was working despite your never-ending tries of hiding it, and he felt proud to have this effect on you. Although it was hard for him to see you chew on your lip like that, he had to force himself not to cup your face and tell you to stop, because he was really tempted to do so. However, when you started scratching your lip with your fingers, that’s when he grabbed your pitiless hand and held it in his.

“Hey, don’t do that,” he said and grabbed a napkin to dab the blood coming out of the little cuts on your bottom lip you had caused out of nervosity.

You guiltily avoided his eyes and searched for your lip balm in your bag before quickly applying some. The temptation of starting again was real when your hand was still cradled in his, your crush not giving a single sign of him being ready to let go of it. Alternatively, he rubbed his thumb over your knuckles as you both observed the pond and the people chilling around you.

Much to your dismay, your little romantic moment was interrupted by the church clock striking thirteen times, announcing 1 PM. You both didn’t pay attention at first, but it was when you couldn’t see a single student around you that you realised something.

“Oh god, Statistics! We have statistics in less than fifteen minutes,” you hurriedly said as you jumped on your feet, placing all your trash in the paper bag. “Oh shit!” Hyunjae imitated you and grabbed the bag from you, jogging to the trash can on the other side of the pond while you grabbed your belongings and quickly folded his jacket. He thanked you, and you left in a rush, under the confused eyes of your neighbours.

Even if it wasn’t too far from your college, you still jumped in the bus that was about to drive off from the stop right outside the park, the doors closing right behind Hyunjae. You sighed in relief as you both made it, and you tightly grabbed the metallic bar as the bus sped uphill.

“I’m glad this bus was here, I don’t think I could’ve walked back up there after our lunch,” you smiled at his words, his hand holding the bar above your heads, his lavender sweater going high enough for you to see his black Gucci belt keeping his turtleneck tucked in his pants. “I don’t know who had this marvellous idea of building the university on top of a hill,” you sarcastically mumbled and pressed the button next to your head as the screen announced the stop.

Hyunjae was the first to jump off the vehicle, grabbing your hand as you were quick to imitate him, the mass of students behind you forcing you out. Your crush followed you like a lost puppy through the different staircases and corridors, your great sense of orientation leading you quickly to the auditorium you were almost late to. You were out of breath when you finally arrived there, right before the clock struck 1:15 PM.

Surprisingly, the rows were practically empty, but you instantly spotted your friends in the middle, some of them still eating while the others were laughing or reading together. Hyunjae grabbed your hand for the nth time today, slowly getting used to this new feeling, and you dragged him towards them, but he resisted.

You looked at him, his eyes scanned the auditorium just like he did this morning and looked back at you with a smile before gesturing over a good spot, a bit higher and further away from your friends. Changmin, with his eagle eye, was quick to notice Hyunjae's lavender sweater and warned your friends, all turning around to observe you and your crush sitting together. Chanhee gasped as he quickly saw you holding hands, gossiping about it to his hyungs. Juyeon just shrugged, unbothered by the situation as he cracked his fingers and neck, getting ready to type.

You noticed your friends smirking at you and hid your head behind your computer screen, Eric leaning back in the vacant seats just enough for him to appear in the corner of your eye, his mouth transforming into a pout to mimic a kiss. You rolled your eyes and groaned, offering him a disapproving look, your antics sending him in a fit of giggles.

Hyunjae smiled at you before looking at your friends, who cooed and loudly gagged when he grabbed your hand and lifted it for them to see. You didn’t know what to do with yourself, embarrassment taking over your body as your friends cheered, drawing attention towards you and your crush, the latter replacing your linked hands on his lap, under the table.

“Why would you do that?” you dared to ask, and you shouldn’t have, your voice breaking mid-sentence made your crush giggle. “Let them be, they’re just happy that their best friend is getting out of their comfort zone. Plus, you look cute when you are flustered,” he said, and the professor started talking, preventing you from answering him.

He just sat there with a satisfied smile on your face, while you were trying not to pass out here and there with your heart beating this fast.

[smallblip]

Forever Fifteen

Levihan | Part I of Good Bones | written for Levihan Week 2021- Memory (day 6)

It’s on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/33635872

“Hello stranger…”

Hanji doesn’t have to look behind her to know who it is. Already, she’s pulling a cigarette case from the inner pocket of her jacket. She holds one out to her side, and with a brush of cold fingers against hers, it’s gone. Her heart beats out of her chest.

Oh be still! We’ve been through this before! This should be as mundane as- doing the laundry.

She turns to face him, scanning him from his nice dress shoes to the way his hair is slicked back, an exaggerated simper on her face.

“What’s a handsome stranger like you doing in a place like this?”

He scoffs. “The party’s not over yet…”

“I know…” she replies, tilting her head to get a better look at her company. “I’m just watching…”

He follows her gaze to the courtyard below the balconies, to where Jean is sitting with Mikasa. Just- talking.

“Happened right under our noses…” Hanji chuckles. Oh right… she mutters when Levi gestures for the light. There’s a little fumbling because of Hanji’s penchant for pockets, but she finds the box of matches eventually. She strikes one and holds it close to Levi. A bright little light that burns embers into the greys of his eyes. The dark circles under his eyes have made a permanent home under his skin, and there are now lines carved into the shadows. When did those get there?

As always, Levi is the first to look away.

“You wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with that would you?” He raises a brow.

Jean is now laughing at something. Levi clicks his tongue in annoyance. In the many years he has known these damned kids, he hasn’t once laughed at anything Mikasa has to say. Jean must be a fool then. Jean is a fool because he listens too well to Hanji. Listens when she tells him he should go for it if that’s what he wants. Tell her a good pickup line, swap a few jokes, share a little fruitcake. Easy.

Hanji gasps dramatically, “as Commander of the Survey Corps, I would like to remind you that I am well aware of the policy against fraternisation!”

“That never stopped you…” Levi answers. But oh it has. The people who knew them as lovers are now dust. And now the rumours speak for them, past prefixed to lovers as a way to explain the familiarity, as a way to grow the distance.

Oh it has stopped them.

“Never stopped you either… If only they knew the great Captain Levi wrote crazy ol’ Hanji Zoë a love letter in his youth…” Hanji chuckles, a little too brave so it must be the alcohol, because she feels anything but brave lately. Her laughter is a little too bright for the night. A little too beautiful and familiar that it makes Levi smile. There’s a spray of pink on his cheekbones. The thought of people knowing the details is mortifying to say the least. But no one will know. This secret will be buried in a shared grave. A cosy little grave that gets a little damp in the summer. But they’ll brave the heat. Good things happen in the sun. Good for the linens too. Just- not good enough to untether the smell of Hanji’s skin from the fabric of his sheets.

“Do you remember what was in that letter?” She continues.

He doesn’t look at her now. His gaze is fixed on Jean’s fidgeting and he thinks of his own attempts at romance. His own little love story that blossomed beautifully and died tragically as they grew older. When they were put in charge for lives outside their own. When Erwin had named Hanji the next in line for the cursed role of Commander. One last night with her. One kiss and a handshake and a- hello stranger, my name is Hanji Zoë.

Levi. He had replied, just Levi.

He remembers Pyxis’ smug little “maybe your boyfriend can help with the mission” and Hanji’s vacuous, unthinking “oh he’s not my boyfriend anymore…”. The look on Pyxis’ face had been one for the books- a genuine surprise from coming by two pieces of information. So they are exes. The rumours were true. Menacing Levi and Kooky Zoë. Levi had launched a kick at Hanji’s shin under the table. Never in Levi’s life had he wished so much for the earth to swallow him whole.

“No…”

He says. It’s not lying if she knows what he really means. If she can tell, between each drag of her cigarette, what he’s thinking.

And she can. Oh she can.

He lets the memory dance across his eyes. That night at the pub, two kids puffing out their chests so they wouldn’t rouse suspicions (not that people care much in the Underground), listening to the men sing songs about love. Oh what Levi would give be young again. To look at Hanji, really look at her for the first time and have his mind play static on loop. To realise that for the rest of his life he’ll only be mesmerised by her.

She chuckles. Another drag of her cigarette, two taps to watch the ash drip. A wink.

“We must be getting old then, Levi…” She says, “in a few years we’ll be a couple of old prunes, you and I…”

Levi smiles at her. He’s never really thought about the mechanics of growing old. But he thinks the image is nice. Of Hanji tracing pruny fingers along the length of his pruny skin where the crescent scars sit in the leather of his skin. And he’ll remind her of the time when they kids, because that’s what old couples do right? Tease each other endlessly, talk about the ambiguity of the good old days, reminisce over long walks? Levi wants the complete works. He laughs to himself, a private little joke that simmers to a murmur-

Four-eyed prune…

It’s a little later when Hanji decides maybe it’s time to stop eavesdropping and get back to the party. The musicians announce the last dance of the night. The trumpets trail after the saxophone and the sound is something grand. And Hanji asks Levi if he wants to dance, because she’s a sucker for romantics, even though she’ll never admit it. And she knows Levi is too. And Hanji thinks life must still be pretty sweet if she’s dancing with her ex lover with a sea of memories between them and the abject refusal to explicate the boundaries of exes. Because it’s hard to forget. Because it’s hard to wash your lover’s scent from your sheets. No matter how hard you scrub, no matter how much the sunlight eats at the fabric and bleaches it. So much so that Hanji thinks it’s all in her head. The smell of his skin, the taste of cigarettes on his tongue- he only smokes with her, only with her- the ghost of his breath against the shell of her ear.

And Levi’s heart is beating out his chest.

Oh be still! We’ve been through worse! We scrubbed at the sheets until our fingers were raw and pruny, remember?

But with Hanji it’s hard to catch a break. He knows. He’s dealt with this for so long that he doesn’t even flinch when she tells him-

“You’re my best friend, Levi…”

But she recognises all the signs. The slight twitch of the corner of his lips, the creasing of the skin between his brows, the sadness in his eyes so bright that she has to avert her gaze.

“Do you tell all the boys that when you dance with them?”

He answers. And she hears the rhythmic grate of the sheets against the washing board.

Forgetting is hard.

“I don’t dance with other boys…” She replies, channeling Hanji Zoë at fifteen- was it sixteen? Seventeen? Eighteen maybe? Hanji Zoë who would sneak into the boy’s barracks to make out with her boyfriend in the dead of night and scurry back under the sheets before anyone found out. “You know I like you the most…”

“Good…”

He says. And he’s Levi- a few years older than she had been, a little too curt, a little too much misplaced possessiveness, thinking to himself that maybe love isn’t so icky and banal. Thinking maybe this is what his mother had promised him. This is all that’s beautiful.

He leans his chin against her shoulder, wrestling against the caution thrown at his beating heart.

Let them talk. Let them say we were lovers in a past life. Because that’s all we are.

Hanji presses her temple against his. The familiarity is jarring in all the ways a stain is. Bright mustard yellow against white cotton, evidence of a split second stupid decision to eat on the duvet. This is a cumulation of mustard moments then- a stain so big the entire world turns yellow.

“I like you the most too…” Levi says, voice low like this is a secret. Like as if the whole of Paradis Island doesn’t already know.

Hanji chuckles, and the vibration that spreads from her bones to his makes him blush. He knocks his temple against hers. Stupid Hanji. Stupid mustard stain.

“Liar…” she laughs. The word is a breath that caresses his cheek. But she knows him- this boy Erwin collected from the underground city. He got under her skin and she proceeds to make it her job to get under his. She had greeted him with scars on his forearm and in return, she walked away with a bruised eye, a broken nose, and an epiphany. And in the years after- the good years- they do what every teenager would do-

fuck around and fall in love.

Levi pulls apart, and in that moment, his lips brush against her neck- fleeting casualness befitting a hey big idiot. It’s the hottest day in the history of mankind but I’ll brave the stickiness to kiss your sweaty neck. Befitting a lifelong stain of a crush on a stain of a human being that will never quite go away.

It’s hard to forget.

Hanji watches as Jean crosses the hall back to where Connie and Sasha are. A sheepish grin plastered on a bright red face. The two tease him endlessly and as always, Jean swats them away, trying to maintain his cool. Hanji knows nothing really happened, but his reaction can only mean hopeful possibility. She smiles.

“Hey, do you think we would’ve worked out?”

Hanji asks when they’re walking back to the barracks, her jacket concealing a few bottles of alcohol. The other bottles have found their way to Levi’s reluctant hands. They’ve been through this before. It’s okay now. After all, comfort is a stained duvet. Soon, she’ll have to bid him farewell with a goodnight, stranger. But for now, Levi answers without looking at her.

“Yeah…” he replies, matter of fact, “we’ve got good bones…”

Oh be still! Hanji feels betrayed that her heart- a wretched thing so broken- still beats the same for him- this beautiful stain of a human being. This moment is living, breathing nostalgia. What had they been before one another? Menacing Levi and Kooky Zoë. How could anything bad ever happen to them. She grins at him.

“The best…”

[authorkun]

𝓒𝓾𝓽! 𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓽'𝓼 𝓪 𝓦𝓻𝓪𝓹!

"Good Morning everyone! How are you doing this fine morning?"

The crowd roared into cheers and shouts. The moderator waved at a few audience members. "Today, we have a few special guests with us! You might have seen before on your own tv. Please welcome the cast members of Jujutsu Kaisen, L/n, Kugisaki, Itadori, and Fushiguro!" The audience cheered again seeing the actors walk out from backstage. 

The four took a seat on the pristine couches, waving and smiling at the cameras. Their outfits seemed to match the colors of blue and white. Yuuji wore baggy denim jeans, a white hoodie, and a matching denim vest, and converse. A Fannypack slung around his chest. Nobara wore similar attire of a cropped zipped hoodie, loose jeans, and combat boots. 

M/n squished in between the two wore a loose button down with newspaper like designs, bleach patched jeans, and sneakers. Megumi, sitting at the other end of the couch wore an oversized blue and white jacket with a white t shirt underneath, black skinny jeans, and Nike shoes.

M/n sent a dashing smile towards the crowd earning an uproar of cheers. When the four had sat down the audience calmed down. 

"Alrighty then! How are you guys? It's great to finally have you on the show!" The host greeted warmly shifting slightly in her chair. "Ah I think I can speak for all of us, we're doing great! It's such a pleasure being here today!" L/n spoke taking the lead. A wide grin plastered on his face. 

"As you may know, Jujutsu Kaisen is a new uprising show. Popular among many young adults this year. Ranked number 2 in the shows most watched. Taking the cake as one of the fastest to gain audience grossing. So, how is staring in one of the most popular shows in Japan?" Small clips of the show played while the hostess talked.

The screen fading back to the four. "It's amazing, being apart of a show like this. It's almost scary seeing yourself on tv." Itadori explained, M/n chuckled at the small twinkle in his eye. "It's like a dream come true. Really, the director is one of the nicest person you could meet." Kugisaki added. "If I'm not wrong, your twin plays as Sukuna?" The attention adverted towards Itadori. 

"Uh, yeah. Actually when we auditioned, we tried out for the opposing role. Although we look alike his voice is a bit different. But the voice he uses in the show is purposely rougher." The memory of the shocked face of the director seeing the two. "Initially they were going to use one actor and mix the scenes together. But right before filming the idea had gone out the window." A picture of the two on set played on the tv. 

"This show was both of your big breaks. It was also one of L/n's and Fushiguro's major roles. Before you guys had starred in smaller productions right?" The hostess leaned her chin on her hand. "Yeah, I was in a few smaller films before an old friend suggested auditioning. That's actually a funny story of how I got the part. Do you guys want to hear it?" The audience cheered. "An old friend knocked on my door and shoved the script into my hands. 

It looked like he ran a marathon, as he basically slumped over in exhaustion. Standing in front of me he frantically starts yelling bits of sentences. He looked at me and was like," M/n had put his arm out panting slightly imitating the guy's stature. "Role....*pant*..... Big break *pant*....Audition for main role...*pant*." The crowd laughed at his portrayal.  "First, I actually auditioned for the main role, but then the twins came along and blew it out of the water." He playfully sent a glare towards his friend who sat next to him.

 "Your part is as a second-year with Zenin, Inumaki, and Kouichi (Panda) . But it seems your character has a lot of screen time." The hostess leaned in a little more interested. 

"Yeah my character likes to hang out with the first-years a lot more. Not that the other second-years are bad. Zenin is like my sister."

A soft smile never leaving his lips. "Speaking about cast relationships, what's the dynamics  with you guys?" Kugisaki, Itadori, and L/n gave each other looks before cracking up. Megumi rolled his eyes playfully at the three. "We're all pretty close, but ask anyone who works with us and they'll say these three are joined by the hip." Fushiguro explained with a small smile at the others. "Could you expand more on that?"

"At the beginning before the table read, the producers and director thought it was a good idea for us plus Shinji (Sukuna) to 'bond'...in response to that Gojo, shoved us into a room, locked it, and told us to 'get along." The audience laughed at the male's expression.

 "After like 5 minutes of silence these three start dying of laughter. After i think, two hours, Gojo comes back and slams open the door. By the time he did that we were already pretty close. He looked out of breath, and had this frightened look on his face. Then he tells us, he had forgotten that he locked us in the cramped room..." the audience laughed again as the raven head shifted in his seat.

"See they went on break for about an hour and a half, when they had gotten ready to continue, they realized we weren't there. Don't tell anyone this but, Gojo has a horrible memory. He said they looked for us for a half an hour and were about to call security, because none of them had our phone numbers. Anyways in summary, after those two hours these idiots come out attached at the hip, and became everyone's pain in the ass." He sent a sarcastic glare towards his friends.

The crowd was roaring in laughter at the story. "We actually have some bloopers and videos you guys have posted. Do you mind if we play some?" The audience cheered in a 'yes'. "Sure, why not?" M/n answered.

On the same tv they started playing the small compilation of videos. The first one qued was one Itadori had posted on his story. It showed him with his costume on. 

'So, just started filming today and this dumbass hurts himself doing absolutely nothing.' Yuuji had showed M/n holding a ice pack to his forehead with sunglasses on. The male shot up a peace sign towards the camera. The audience chuckled at the current L/n's embarrassment. 'This stupid f*cker made us redo the scene, because somehow he doesn't know how to stand. Randomly during the shot he's shown trying to lean on an invisible force and falls flat on his face.' 

The next video shown was the actual footage that Itadori explained. In the video it was zoomed in on M/n, who like he said was standing and leaned to his left. You could see the horror in his eyes as he fell. The caption being, 'This dumb bitch🥰'. Another fit of laughter came from the crowd. 

The next video that played was in the POV of M/n as the camera flipped showing the back side of Shinji with Sukuna's famous tattoos. He ran up and slapped a pie tin with just whipped cream in his face. "What the hell! Get back here you bitch!" You could hear M/n's laugh while the feed was a bit blurry. Karma seemed to hit has the male tripped and fell onto the concrete. 

The video ended with a blurry picture. The studio was filled in laughter as the male in the video sat embarrassingly between his friends who were also dying. Yuuji  was slumped over his friend, wheezing.

Timeskip

"Well as great as this has been, we have to say goodbye to these amazing actors."

The hostess said with a smile. The audience boo'ed at the statement. "It was such a pleasure to be here. Hopefully we'll get to be on here again in the future." With that, M/n sent a wink and signature dashing smile towards the crowd before walking off with the others. Getting off the stage he sighed out in relief. "Oí those interviews are exhausting."

"You can say that again." Yuuji smiled. "I'm starved who else wants to get out of here?" Nobara complained swiping through her phone. "How about that diner down the street. The ratings are pretty good." The (h/c) haired male suggested. "Yeah sure. I'm pretty sure we're off the hook anyways." Fushiguro said grabbing a water bottle from the table. 

 "I think the driver's waiting out back. I'm gonna leave, cause I'm not waiting on you slowpokes." Kugisaki snickered. "Hey! We're coming too!" Itadori yelled chasing after her with the two others trailing behind. Before M/n could walk out the exit a hand had tapped his shoulder. Turning back, it was the hostess with a innocent smile. "Can I help you?" The brunette had twirled a piece of hair between her index finger and thumb. "Would you perhaps want to go out sometime?" A confident smirk played on her face. "Ah, sorry most of my schedule is booked up with filming and interviews. If I would I could." He shyly scratched his neck sending an awkward smile towards the girl.

"I bet you could make time~" she persisted. "Sorry I-." "Oi n/n we're waiting on your slow ass!" M/n silently thanked Kugisaki for interrupting the girl's persistent flirting. "My friends calling, I've got to go. It was nice to meet you though!" He sent one last smile before running off to the car his friends were waiting in. "What took you so long?" Itadori whined. "The hostess insisted on going out with me." He shivered at the thought. "Yikes. I swear you always get hit on anywhere we go." Megumi groaned. "Hey it's not my fault I'm hot." M/n stuck his tongue out. A light blush dusted across Fushiguro's face.

"Aye stop flirting with each other. We're heading for the diner across 9th." Nobara once again interrupted, giving instructions to the driver.

"Next stop, food!"

To be continued

[sugar-petals]

hey angel (m)

♡  sub!felix + reader 

↳ The JYP Halloween party is ditched on short notice. That means: You have a down-to-celebrate boyfriend in full angel costume on your hands.

words. 5k 

tags. domestic au, finger sucking, hickeys, latex, corruption kink, fingering, vaginal sex, footjob, harnesses, cunnilingus, kitten antics, edging, aftercare 

★⎡CARO’S NOTE⎦› here goes the cutie on duty 👼

genre. domestic + smut/crack

„So sorry mate,“ Bang Chan’s voice resounds through the speaker. „I thought it could work but… We can’t celebrate tonight. Really sorry, Felix. Changbin and I already got dressed up too, but, you know things got shut down. JYP won’t let us with the Corona rules and stuff.“

„Oh no…“

„Yeah, man. Looks like we’ll have to do it next year.“

„You even prepared the food already, right?“

„We’re handing it out to staff and eat it at home. I know, it sucks. I spent half the morning in the kitchen. I can like keep the pumpkin cookies so you can eat them tomorrow after practice or so.“

„I feel so sorry Chan… and thank you.“

„I’ll be calling Hyunjin and Han now as well. Really sorry we’re cancelling short notice. I hope you’re still having a nice evening bro. Maybe we can make it happen for Christmas.“

„Okay. Cheers mate.“

„Yeah, cheers.“

Felix puts his phone down looking more than deflated in his angel costume, puffs out a big sigh. You can tell he really looked forward to this. Just an hour before, you bothered to sew the wings in place rather than rely on the wobbly back-pack like construction that came with it. 

They’re firmly attached to his white top now, and all for nothing. He glued them together by himself with a pack of synthetic feathers ordered on Etsy for a ridiculous shipping cost, along with a little halo that he clipped into his hair. Which, because maybe it really does sense his mood, dangles low and even a bit lopsided over his head.

„It’s the party of the year,“ Felix flops down on the living room couch. “I can’t believe this.“

You sit down opposite to him, starting to clean off the table where masses of cosmetic products and leftover feathers have piles up.

„Next time, Lixie. We can keep the costume. Poor Chan, he organized the living shit out of everything.“

„I’ll just go and shower, get this off, and stuff,“ he points at his face. Felix applied his own makeup with a little help from you here and there, including some golden sparkles. Just yesterday, he bleached his hair. It’s sculpted down to every strand with hair spray now. Felix unties his sneakers with the little gold stars on. Just before he starts plucking off his halo, you get an idea, pick up your phone from the table.

„Wait— Let’s at least make some pictures with your phone, you put so much effort in this. You look so cute. The fans might want to see it as well.“

„Oh! You’re right,“ Felix stops right in his tracks. „For Instagram.“

After tightening his sneakers again and you making sure the halo sights right, Felix walks around your flat in search for a nice backdrop. You follow, quickly flipping through some filters to try, and adjusting the flash on the camera.

After posing at the fridge — strange idea — and in the bathroom turns out a little awkward as well, you decide that such an elaborate costume needs a themed background, and only the bedroom offers just that. You recently changed the duvet to sky blue sheets with clouds on them. The overall interior is mostly clean white as well, with some thrifted vintage furniture. Fairy lights, heavy curtains, a wooden ceiling. Perfect.

„We’ll caption it as… post your own stay-at-home costume, something like that,“ Felix plops down on the bed, acting as if he just took a seat on the cloud in the very middle.

„Sounds pretty good,“ you press release, and the first picture pops up on your screen. „Can you turn a little towards the light? That the sparkles are showing.“

„Yay, I love the sparkles!“

„Just like this, just like this. Don’t move. The sparkles!“

A five-picture series of more snapshots ensues, with you adjusting Felix’s face a few times by hand, even, turning his chin by sheer millimeters to find the perfect angle. He’s stunning.

„I have another idea.“

„Oh?“

„I remember what I wore for Halloween three years ago. The costume must be somewhere. I think it fits together with yours.“

„What, oh wow?“

„What was it again, wait…“

You already begin to sort through your wardrobe, checking each hanger, each drawer, end up where you store your socks, and finally pull out a larger plastic zip bag from the very depths of all that chaos. There it is. Nice.

„Lix, if you’d turn around for me, please.“

He immediately does. Blushing.

„Thank you, angel.“

You pull off your sweat pants, your grey shirt, socks, your bra. Time to dress up. Only your simple black panties stay on. On goes a pair of scarlet stockings, snug and high. Then, a dark red latex skirt that goes in big circles and flounces, down to the mid-thigh. 

Added: A tight sleeveless peplum top that admittedly… and deliberately squeezes your boobs a little. Not too much. More important is that your nipples are showing right through, and the cleavage is sweeping, every demon would be salivating at your feet. If an angel does: Remains to be tested.

Around your waist and chest and over your shoulder goes a black harness, pulling everything together. Some very pointed, glossy pumps with thin heels complete the costume. They’re not crafted to be walked on in the very least, their balance is terrible. You’re planning something else with them. Cherry on top: Devil horn headband. Really curved and pointy, too. Can’t go wrong. You click your tongue and take a spin. The skirt flares out perfectly. Ready to go.

„Felix, time to turn around.“

He does. You can tell he didn’t cheat.

„You’re, you’re so hot in this,“ Felix buries his face right in the comfort of his sweater paws, hoping they would not give away his embarrassed little face. But — his voice does, effortlessly so.

„Come on, have a look at me. Real closely, angel, come. You’re allowed to.“

Felix gazes through his fingers with what sounds like a little meep! in a much more high-pitched tone than his usual speaking range. He’s cute.

„Hey pum’kin. Miss Lucifer speaking. Where’s the barbecue?“

Felix and you recently agreed that hell must be one big and extremely hot cave where everyone’s grilling and having a good time. Australia, essentially.

„Welp!“

„Damn right. Infiltrating God’s realm one cloud at a time. Any last words?“

„It’s so intimidating!“

Felix digs himself into a mountain of pillows on the bed, with only his eyes and nose peeking out. You shrug, adjust your horns.

„Hm. Time for my first satanic act I guess.“

„Oh no!“

„Wait just one minute, be a sweet and patient boy.“

You leave Yongbok confused given that you’re quick to hurry to the kitchen. However, what you return with puts a giggle on his lips right away.

„Boom. It is served.“

„Yes, yes, please!“

Poufy black cocoa cupcakes. The ones with the cute little ghost frosting on it, and the melted chocolate inside. Felix finds them irresistable since the last Halloween party, to the point where you bake them mid-July. The current set of cupcakes was meant to be a contribution to Bang Chan’s eerie and delectable buffet. As for now, they’re in deep need of someone hungry since you made a lot of them, assuming a post-workout Changbin would devour at least five or more.

„Good move,“ he admits, a little shaky, and you proceed to tray the cupcakes on the bed — stuffing Felix for a solid ten minutes until there’s chocolate all over his face. What you’ll be quick to confess is that you’ve been deliberately messy feeding him, with all the crumbs in particular.

„Spoiled honey bun,“ you plant a kiss on top of his head.

„These taste so good, I swear.“

Next up is Felix who has to carefully maneuver the sweet treats into your mouth without spoiling your outfit.

„If you get crumbs into my cleavage, I can’t put your face in there later you know.“

Fierce nodding.

„That’s the spirit.“

Under your eagle eyes, he proves to be an obedient little cherub doing his job pretty well. The cakes are delicious in how spongy they are, and the liquid chocolate warms up so well on the tongue, it melts even more. You’re more than pleased and have Felix store away the remaining four pieces only after quite a while.

„I’ll have them for Brekkie, woo!“ is what he’s fast to proclaim, and you agree he’ll need them the next morning. Once you’re done with him, that’s gonna count as a hangover even Chan’s wildest party couldn’t give him.

„We’re talking dinner first, Felix.“

At this point, all the sugar is kicking in. Or it’s the chocolate being some kind of aphrodisiac. Whatever, could be either, you’re feeling like you’re up there at the ceiling, and you’re not the only one. Felix coming back to the bedroom so bouncy and cutieful just gets you even more in the mood.

You sit at the edge of the bed, slanting backward just a little. „You look like you need some more corruption, I won’t lie,“ you pat your lap, beckoning. He can ditch wifi because this is his favorite hot spot waiting for him. Felix sits down looking tiny as ever, eyes full of anticipation and his pants full of… big fat late night erection.

„I don’t mind at all, Miss. I don’t, oh my god…“ he mumbles into his nonexistent Aussie trucker beard, and you’re clear that whatever the skirt did to him, his brain must be doing kangaroo somersaults right now. In the meantime, something very eager is poking right at your lower belly. Captain Boomerang already came fully armed tonight and the Suicide Squad isn’t even anywhere near to be seen.

„Oh hey hey, cupcake. Getting really big there,“ you wipe at the curled little corners of his mouth. Some crumbs come off. His lips already twitch the way you know they want to do naughty things on you. He doesn’t seem to notice. Autopilot Felix has already taken over.

„Don’t hurry with it,“ he stares, mouth half-open, but his little grinds prove him a dirty — in an entirely direct sense — fucking liar. Like he’s literally rubbing himself against your stomach.

„Boy oh boy. You’re not even trying.“

„I’m fucked!“ is what Felix soon realizes with the daggers you’re shooting at him through your hopefully very satanic-looking eyes right now. Alongside catching up with his darn hips doing their own thing.

„You are.“

„I’m sorry for grinding, God help me!“

„He won’t. Cuz I’m here on your cloud. Cue stage number two of my demonic plan. Safeword?“

„It’s chocolate!“

„Mh. Good pick.“

The rest as usual. Tapping the thigh, yellow for pause, towels plus water ready, and always double-checking the lube in case of Jisung putting a glass of vegemite under your bed as his latest practical joke. Yes, it happened. It’s a whole new level of demonic. On the other hand: perhaps Felix’ ass could’ve actually handled it, Made in Australia it is. 

„Let’s go honey angel,“ you curl at his hair with a little finger just to tease him a little more. The answer is a little meow, at this point Felix’ communication skills have simplified to kitten vocabulary which always happens when he is nervous and looking forward to something.

Next thing poor Felix knows, his face has entered the scorching satanic abyss that is your cleavage. Literally, you’re burning up. It’s fucking October and Felix has you breaking a sweat from all your horniness (literally, your horns are just that chic) already. Twice the reason to punish the shit out of him. If that can be considered anything near a punishment.

A shower of various „Mh— nh!“ and mewling noises comes to rain down on you while Felix face takes a trip down mammary lane, and that, too, is literal. He’s salivating. So much about rain. Actually, great lubrication. Felix always does things best by instinct.

„Yes, good boy. Great job.“

Now that his mouth is wet already, you’re unceremonious about shoving your fingers right down his throat after he resurfaces. Blushed, hard, and ready to choke himself since he’s already running short on breath. It doesn’t take long until he’s gagging himself stupid and the sparkles under his eyes start running.

„Pretty, pretty,“ you lean down a little, kissing his nose. „Give me all you got.“

„Gh—gch—“

The answer is as slobbery and unintelligible as can be. To a normal human, at least. You’re a demonic top. That automatically means having an Ivy League major in gag noise translation.

„Oh yes, I know,“ you stroke his hair, using your free hand that usually rests at the back of his neck. „Talk to me about it. Exactly what I was thinking. Do go on.“

And he does, louder than ever. If there’s one satisfying sound, it’s this, that heavenly deep voice doing all kinds of nasty acrobatics is making you go crazy. That Felix is absolutely close to cumming in his angel pants is very much clear to you given how the veins and muscles on his neck are having a chaotic Halloween party on their own.

Which includes his tongue taking turns on your two fingers as well. And a wide-eyed Felix struggling, swallowing, holding on to your shoulders with his little feet twitching in their sneakers. Like mad… and you love it. But also — hopelessly sucking and moaning and slurping and squealing until his neck has way too much saliva on it for you not to make it your next target. Felix is so good at this. Way too good.

„Looks delicious,“ you lean in, your hair tickles his ears. And now, you’re busy nibbling, biting a little… and most importantly, giving Felix a wet hickey that will send his makeup artist — my God, you really torture the unsuspecting man almost weekly — into a meltdown. Rowdy and unholy is the look you’re going for.

In the meantime, Felix is still wrapped up trying to hit your fingers at the back of his throat. If his cute bouncy run and rude boner moment didn’t turn you on already, now you would be. The way he’s just sucking in his own spit makes you realize that you won’t ever need a fire brigade for your flat.

You emerge from his neck and raise your brows. Felix is just hard-wired to impress. „Just how much saliva can you produce!“

„Ch… Mnh— Nh…“

Hitting some more complex syntax and consonants there, is he.

„Oh, I get it now. You stayed hydrated during the day. Thanks for explaining, mate. That’s the secret.“

Whether that’s perfectly scientifically correct down to the enzyme theory and shit neither of you can google right now. At least you know that you’re both drenched on either end so that’s that.

Once Felix is so horny from deepthroating your damn hand that he has pull off and yellow-word, you’re already prepared for introducing a new position which you can prepare while he’s gathering himself and wiping off his chin. You hand him a second towel for his neck, and present him a little hand mirror to see how the hickey turned out.

„It’s shaped like, hm,“ he pants, words still slurring a little. „I dunno! It’s really cute!“

„Let me see… No doubt that’s a rice cake hickey. That’s the shape.“

„You’re right!“

And off he goes snapping a selfie with it while you get comfortable on your back, cleaning your own fingers.

„Just don’t upload that one to Insta instead of the cloud shots, we’re not gonna survive another Manager call at 1:15 AM.“

„Can I use your phone for it? That’s where it’s supposed to be on, anyway.“

Felix giggles a little. That cute brat. Always knowing how it’s done.

„Sure babe!“

And voilà, Felix is already occupied setting a good view of his new rice cake-shaped friend as your phone background. Good thing, helps his erection cool down a little, he was about to blow up his poor white pants. The acceptable unfair feat being that he’s just riling you up even more like that on the other hand.

„If you come to mommy now,“ you wriggle one foot in the air, the other splayed on the duvet, knee slightly bent. „Rubbing her pussy and doing your thing, you know how it goes.“

„Angel duties calling! What am I doing!“

At the speed of sound, Felix stores your phone back on the bedside table and crawls over in an instant. He props his chin on your abdomen and blinks.

„Sorry Ma’am. At your service. Never wanna keep you waiting.“

A big smile rouses his cheeks, and you boop them from either side. His peach fuzz is so soft and his eyes are so beautifully dark. You don’t waste any time keeping your skirt down for any longer. Another blink and Felix is already pawing — well, kneading and caressing technically — between your legs. He’s visibly understanding just how wet the whole finger sucking circus has left you now.

„What if I used my heels on your cock, boo. Still no cumming. Just my heels and my lil’ prince.“

Satanic plan stage number three. Felix has gotten to savor it last Christmas and for his birthday, and some time around the holidays in summer.

„I love it yay!“ Felix claps his hands. Baby, baby.

„C’mere then. Just keep on rubbing.“

His arms are fairly long enough. While you’re dragging the slender heels of either shoe right across the outlines on his crotch, Felix, eyes loosely closed, maintains a steady rhythm on your clit with three fingers lined up on the fabric of your panties.

„Oh fucking hell, Felix, shit—“

Whenever you masturbate, that alone would never do. You’d get frustrated after a while. Need more stimulation. But when Felix is on angel duty to keep your pussy soaked, it doesn’t need much to make your clit throb, even with your underwear still on. Guess that God’s little helpers know how to work their magic to make your head spin.

He’s hitting the right spot, with the right moves, and his other hand doesn’t miss out on a single opportunity to stroke at both the in- and outside of your thighs. The touch is so subtle, you twitch. Felix strokes on, delirious himself. His eyelids flutter.

„Fuck…“

Despite the little pause from earlier taking out most of his tension, your heels leave Felix with pants that are even more bulged out. That’s making it easy to direct your feet to jerk up and down at either side. You’d never know either of you would be so into this. Foot fetish and all.

Once he’s edged you to the point of moans, last thing you properly remember is calling it quits with the panties and telling him to line himself up. The heels kicked off, the skirt still on, you decide that unpacking your Halloween treat has been long overdue. You slide his pants down, roll down a pink condom, and grab his cock at the base to glide it all over your wet lips.

„Lix, come fuck me. You got me all horny. Satan is recruiting.“

„With me it’s not sinning,“ he smiles, brighter than the sun and you do right along. It’d be hard not to. Felix truly has the innocence of a virgin, the subtle confidence of an intermediate, the caution of a pro, and the kindness of a real veteran.

„You’re right about that Felix,“ you say, prop your entrance at the very tip, let the wetness do its job. „Come kiss your honey girl.“

And he does. Entering you with care for the right angle, letting your hip do the rest. What’s been circling and sucking your fingers so deliciously is now doing a hot job teasing and pleasing your tongue all over. His lips are amazingly soft and plump, they open so gently and feel electric on yours. A gentle squeeze around your left breast sparks a moan into the kiss from you. It’s Felix massaging your breasts while deepening his penetration, and you can tell the vegemite can stay under the bed today. You can tell Felix is getting more than flustered knowing it was all him who made you this dripping wet.

Even his dick seems to blush in sync. It’s fucking pink and red. Oh wait, that’s the condom. But knowing him and from your viewpoint, it’s still more flushed than before, no kidding. Faithfully pumping in and out of you at its full length now. You wrap your legs around his waist, the thrusts become deeper, shorter, parting you open much more, and filling you out so properly.

„So good. Right there, angel. Just right there. I’m loving that.“

Felix has a great dick. Best handy size, the girth’s comfortable, all nice and bendy, virtually no curve, you can always gyrate on it in any way and even take a complete 180 if you go from cowgirl to reverse (which you’d be doing right now but he’d crush his wings if he were on his back like that so no). Cherry on top, compact but soft balls that don’t steal the show but still do the trick during doggy. They’re whipping up the best cum in the world, so.

The slow kissing goes on and on and Felix tries to walk the tightrope of neither letting your pussy lips suck the orgasm out of him, nor making you cream his cock with shaky legs from all that gorgeous sloppy friction, and the kissing, and his sweet cherry shampoo scent that has your brain in absolute limbo.

With everything hanging by a thread like that, every kiss becomes special and full of a suspense that makes your lips tremble — either set, and Felix can hardly bear it himself.

His little halo is dangling back and forth, and you can tell by his face that all that thrusting has him in serious trouble. And you? Are fucking leaking and groaning, and that little shallow series of first contractions before your orgasm is already preparing you.

The sugar high from the cupcakes is fading, but your adrenaline is sure to replace it. You just want Felix to fuck you more and rock against him, and hold his head, and kiss him. God, his mouth is so warm and inviting, tastes so good like cocoa.

The pace joins yours without any effort, it adapts when your rhythm changes, and it stabilizes everything when you’re currently riding the high of his cock really filling you out so you can clench your muscles around him, feel him and tell him just you wait, I’ll milk you. He’s such a good kisser. You can feel all of your wetness running down your ass like it’s Christmas.

„Felix, I’m overflowing.“

„I’m so sorry,“ he whines into the kiss. „I’ll be washing the sheets.“

„Listen, baby,“ you break the tongue-on-tongue, „you doing laundry is really sexy. But the overflow is the best part. Just look what you’re doing to my body.“

You could ravage him on the spot. He’d probably lose it and cum in two seconds. Holding yourself before the edge is so tough right now.

„Shit… yellow again. Need a moment.“

Felix has to resort to a bit of cockwarming, and you use the little break to rid yourself off the harness. It’s not perfectly comfortable when you’re lying down. You’re about to fling it off the bed that Felix asks to wear it. Oh. Very well. It actually goes as a nice contrast on his white top, and the straps make it easy to adjust to him. And he wants it to sit on him really tightly. Oh again.

You realize—

On you, it’s only a fashion piece. Something random that came with the costume.

On him: It’s kinky.

„Hey hey. You look sexy, pum’kin,“ you pat at his chest. „Look at your waist, wow.“

Your sweet boy. It’s like it’s made for him. So cinched and the exact opposite of his costume. He’s a corrupted, dirty angel now, it’s perfect. With his pink neck and all sweaty face, and his little puppy gaze that will haunt you in your sex dreams because it literally just gets into your pants so much. Oh god, you just wanna cum. You have to distract yourself with chaste images of Felix washing the dishes or writing grocery lists with little hearts and emojis on them but that just makes it five times worse.

The way he puts the harness on with his dick inside you is so mouthwatering and cumworthy, you can’t wait to resume and switch your own brains off on that angel cock. Once Felix is ready to exit phase yellow and resume the session, your hands magically gravitate towards the straps of the harness at this waist.

„Can I?“

„M—hm!“

You have the time of your life grabbing and guiding him by the harness, controlling every thrust. Felix clenches up his teeth from how lavishly his cock is squeezing into your pussy.

„Oh babe,“ you groan out. „Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. Come on, angel.“

He’s not going to take it much longer. Felix is tensing all over, neck to the knees, it’s a huge shock wave in the making. That climax is going to be like a fucking punch into outer space.

„I’m really at my limit, I’m, I’m…!“

„Cum for me, angel,“ you reach to his neck to bring his lips down again. Your mouths going into shaky contact brings a big soaring moan with it.

„Ahn—!“

You lock lips, his face scrunches up, and you can tell that cum worth of three orgasms is currently pooling into the condom. You don’t belong to the mile high club, but going by how far up this feels, you might as well be. Those sweet shivers. And the little whines. It’s all too much for him, this one got him bad. Felix cumming is like the angels really are singing. With bells and harps and all that shit at once.

After pulling out, the ruined condom goes off lightning fast. Felix’ cock gets some much-needed cooling, but his face is on heavy duty. How he does it after almost getting his lights turned off, it’s a mystery, it must have been six whole loads he shot into you. You’d already be collapsing in his shoes. Felix still being able to put his mouth to work is an act of divine intervention. Honestly though, it doesn’t even take half a minute. Sloppy head from Felix is cryptonite, your stamina comes tumbling down. His tongue just knocks you out with an overwhelming rush of pleasure.

“Oh— yes...”

What is gravity? You don’t know what north and south mean anymore. He laps and sucks you through your high and your legs give up their soldier service. All you see it fluffy blonde strands of hair peeking from below your skirt, a glimpse of the harness, the rest is heavy growling and swearing from all of the contractions and Felix getting raw and dirty Down Under with no fears, literally none, to bury his face and move it around and let his tongue loose. Time and again Felix shows you he’s a swallower. Satanic agenda: success.

For tonight, your pussy will be nothing but glitter, cum, and spit. Swollen like crazy, properly fucked, and tipped to the absolute limit. Felix keeps on slicking up his face completely, and then brings you into the afterglow with his fingers. One at a time, barely adding stimulation. Just fetching you where you are and climbing down. Looks like you’ll share the cupcakes, this is a couple hangover in the making. In Felix’ case in particular. It’s like he signed up for testing a mad scientist’s latest designer drug.

„Wow wow… So you served me choco cupcakes and God’s menu,“ is the last thing he can say in his delirium before falling over. He’s so fucked out and went so wild on eating you, a part of the harness came off. Thank god his nose is so small, all that swiping could’ve broken the bridge and whatnot. And his lips, they’re twice as plump. You really have to compliment in on what his mouth has done today because that was some champ shit.

You’re both buffering on the sheets for a solid five minutes until you roll to the side. Towel… water… forehead kisses. Yes, forehead kisses most importantly. After gathering yourself a little, you pamper Felix into a heart rate around 90 rather than 120. And with the onset of exhaustion for the two of you, that’s not too hard after some minutes passing. Whispering sweet nothings and praise is all you do up until 2 AM and after. Felix is somewhere between worlds, one foot in the door of the dreamland, the other soaking up the care and the intoxicating, thick scent of the room that has a lot of cherry shampoo in it.

At some point. You loosen the harness, pull off his shirt with the wings attached. The halo you unsuccessfully try to spot in his hair. Turns out: It flew off. Felix really must’ve made Satan proud if it fell down just like that. Good job. Felix has earned a title of being a dirty angel now, and by the way he’s chugging water now, a wet one on top of that.

Five tons of spit, six, seven, who knows how many he’s afforded for today. A head pat is not enough, it has to be several, and Felix passes out onto the pillows. As good as you can, you wipe him down, bin the condom, get off his shoes and his half-pulled down trousers. After staggering to the bathroom, your skirt and peplum shirt follows, the stockings stay on, they’re cozy as hell. Last but not least, you remove your devil horns. It feels like they granted you the most unknown demonic powers.

Next time Felix is on his way to making you cum again, you’ll be wearing them, and you’ll last the way you did tonight. Meanwhile, Bang Chan is blowing up your phone because Felix pressed send by accident earlier, but you don’t notice. It just keeps on vibrating on the bedstand and Chris will have to riddle over the rice cake selfie for the rest of November.

Felix dozes with an angelic little smile on his lips and puffs his cheeks in his sleep, his makeup wiped and his hair truly messy. Instagram can wait. Maybe you’ll get to brush your teeth a little later, it usually takes some time until you wake up again and topple to the sink. You huddle together, tuck your sweet baby pum’kin into his second favorite spot at your chest. Ah, the glory of Felix little spooning.

As the last signature, you nibble at his ear, call him your cutie pie, and switch the lights off. You have to listen closely but if you do, it’s like Felix is purring in his sleep. Whatever your own dreamland is planning to launch on you tonight, you’re looking forward to it.

© 2017-2020 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved. reposts, modifications and translations are prohibited. character depictions are fictional & for entertainment purposes only.

PS — oh, my good ole fellas, a last cursed disclaimer. i must insist on the following for obvious reasons. vegemite makes for some terrible strap lube okay 😂🇦🇺

like my writing? donate: ko-fi

[ayellowcurtain]

I can be your lover

Part 6

“I'm not sure if I should go…” Robbe says in an attempt to be reassured that it'll be fine. Nobody says anything but the awkward silence is a clear sign that they’re thinking. He looks around and nobody is as confident as he would like them to be.

“You two can't be in a room and not make out?” Milan asks with a smile on his face and Robbe knows he's asking to be annoying.

"Shut up.”

“No?!” He looks at Senne for support for his quick negative answer and the three laugh at Robbe's face. Zoe stops putting powder on her face and looking at her reflection in the mirror and turns her body around, looking at Robbe there, leaning against the bathroom door frame. They all look at each other like they’re talking inside their thoughts and Robbe is not invited.

"They're not completely wrong…” She finally says and Robbe whines, stepping back into the hallway, turning to one side to press his forehead against the white painted wood of Zoe’s and Senne’s bedroom door,

"But we'll be there with you! By your side all night long to keep you from jumping him.” Zoe reassures him, finally but Robbe doesn’t believe them anymore. He looks around again and they clearly still doubt any of that will work.

"We will?!” Senne frowns so hard he almost creates a deep and lasting crease in his forehead.

"What?!” Milan asks, outraged.

“Yes, we will. I'll even ask for Jens’ help.” Zoe claps her hands, excited with her plan and Robbe can't believe they actually think he needs that many people to keep him from making a scene, from letting it show how much Sander still affects his mood and overall behavior.

It's been years since they've last seen each other in person. Robbe thinks he learned to control himself a little better with all this time. It's not possible that he's a twenty-something man that doesn't have any control when his first - and only - boyfriend is around at a party, with all the people they know around, possibly keeping them apart for the whole night.

He doesn't know anything about the Sander he's about to see again, he might be a completely different person, someone who Robbe is not at all attracted to anymore. Everyone else still talks to him occasionally so all this worry and doubt makes Robbe think Sander might be even better and consequently more irresistible.

Zoe kicks the other two out of the bathroom once she's done with her make up and needs a quick pee before leaving her and Senne's home. She invited Robbe and Milan to join the pre game and when Robbe got there, he still wasn't sure if he was going to the main event anyway. He just wanted to hang out with them for a few hours, to try to discover if they knew if it was certain that Sander was going to Noor’s party too.

“Tell me, what are you worrying about?” Zoe asks as she pushes her underwear down under her long, vintage looking dress, sitting down to pee but still looking at Robbe, hoping he’ll explain it to her while watching her pee like it’s normal. Apparently women are comfortable peeing in front of him. Robbe sighs, not sure where to stand, deciding to sit on the edge of the bathtub, rubbing his face over and over with both his hands.

“Everything and nothing at all. He might very well look at me and have zero reactions or he can look at me in a judgy way that’ll make me remember how I was the one to ruin us and then it’ll be weird, I feel stupid for going and guilty and like everyone is staring at me, taking his side.”

He looks up at her, anxious, finding her surprised by how much thought Robbe has put into the possible scenarios he came up with by himself.

“...You’re being a little too dramatic.” She laughs softly, and Robbe bites his already short nails, looking at her, exhaling a long breath with the recognition from someone else that his emotions are making the possibilities worse than the reality will actually be at the party.

“How do you think it’ll go? Honestly!”

Zoe sighs, washing her hands and drying them, leaning against the counter to look at Robbe still sitting on the bathtub, squeezing the border to ground himself to pay attention to what she might say.

“I have no idea, Robbe.” She bites the inside of her bottom lip and Robbe waits for whatever it is to come that’s making her think twice about telling him, “You never really told me what happened in that last fight between you two…”

It’s been over a year since that last conversation on the phone but Robbe is pretty sure he remembers how it went with details like it was today. It’s his fault, sure, but he never thought they would have an actual fight, ever, not even when they were just friends before all of this.

Robbe had, again, no right to be upset or angry about what Sander was or wasn’t doing back at his new home, with his new friends and lovers. They never had a settled deal but Robbe thought it was obvious that he wasn’t going to be happy to see Sander with other people, no matter if it was the “no strings attached” bullshit. He was going to try and keep a straight face and not let it affect their friendship.

No matter if they were never actually fully together, Robbe was going to be jealous because that’s what he does when it’s about Sander. After so many years knowing each other, Robbe had in his mind and his heart, after everything they experienced until their first kiss, that Sander was the person that was made for him in this never-ending universe, no matter if that ever became a reality or kept as his private fantasy.

And Sander kept taking his hurt as a joke, as just a way of teasing Robbe, and that it would go away. It didn’t. Robbe was having a bad day that day, and he wasn’t feeling like hearing Sander’s tasteless jokes. He asked to change the subject, Sander was probably tired of the grey relationship they were having for over a year at that point and he was being mean right back at Robbe.

"I was too deep inside my insecurities. I couldn't keep my mouth shut and I had to tell him that I really liked him when he was about to leave, didn’t I? And then I constantly kept us at a distance while he was gone because it was the safer option, and he saw it and for some time he was okay with it, was letting life happen or whatever but I guess I was in a bad mood that day and he was tired at that point, and he kept making jokes about me not going to visit him and being jealous of what he could be doing there. And I got mad and he got mad because of it. He probably thought it would be fine in a few hours but I blocked him everywhere. And that was that. Now he's here and I wish I could hide and pretend I never acted like a 5 year old."

Zoe nods her head while hearing his rant, frowning a little bit, and she tries not to laugh at his desperation and Robbe slips to sit inside the bathtub, wishing he could stay there instead of going to a party that Sander will also go to.

It’s not like Zoe has anything to say to him after that and Robbe doesn’t wait for it. She helps him get out and hugs him tight, saying they’ll have a good time tonight.

He doesn't have a chance to decide if he wants or not to go through a night full of shame. Zoe and Milan drag him back home a few streets down Zoenne's place and Senne grabs some of his clothes in his closet and pushes against Robbe's chest for him to go change so they can go already. It's not at all an outfit Robbe would pick - seems too formal for him - but they're running late and even though Robbe doesn't want to go, he sees himself rushing when Milan says he has five more minutes. He looks at himself in his bathroom mirror and grabs his toothbrush to brush his teeth quickly.

Britt and Noor's place is on the other side of town - a much more artistic and hippie neighborhood - and the ride there is a little too fast to calm his nerves, squished against Milan in the backseat of Senne's sports car.

“What if he's like, married with a baby? Or if he hates me?” Robbe asks after pushing himself out of the black hole that is Senne's backseat, just between him and Zoe while the other two are still on the other side of the car.

She smiles fondly and tries to make his shirt look a little less wrinkled.

“He's not and I'm sure he can't hate you, it's impossible.” Robbe sighs because Zoe is his very good friend and would never tell him otherwise, "His hair is bleached again though.”

It's Robbe's turn to frown, surprised, his heart starting to beat even faster right away, “Why would you tell me that now?!”

“So you wouldn't be too surprised! You would give everything away the second you saw it anyway.”

"God, Zoe…” Robbe complains, letting the conversation die while Senne and Milan finally come to their side so they can cross the street.

He looks back and there are only a few cars parked close to Senne's and a vintage motorcycle. It has to be Sander's…

Robbe lets everyone go inside the building first, the elevator too and he's the last one on the line to get inside when Noor opens the door. He feels extremely embarrassed when she looks at him expectantly, hugging him tight like a mom that's hugging a son that just lost a very easy game. Like Robbe needed any more proof that this is going to be a disaster.

He walks inside carefully like he's walking into a minefield, trying to see where someone is without being seen right back. His safety net is gone, dissipated to go talk to different people as soon as they were all inside. So much for staying glued to his sides all night long.

Sander is across the room, in a corner, talking to some of Noor's friends that Robbe doesn't know very well. Once he's been localized, too busy to notice Robbe - or not caring enough that he's there - Robbe tries to calm himself down, look around the place to find someone to talk to. He feels like he's being watched but he can't bring himself to double check, scared of meeting eyes he’s trying to avoid.

Sander's hair is really bleached again like Zoe said it would, a little longer than what Sander usually likes or used to like. Maybe he changed his mind about his hair preferences too during the past years. Robbe likes it like this, softer and longer, with the dark roots peeking.

“Did you see who's here?” Aaron whispers in his ear and Robbe jumps, rubbing his hand over his ear to get rid of the tickle Aaron's breath created.

“You scared the shit out of me…” Robbe accepts the beer Aaron is offering him, with the same expecting eyes everyone seems to be giving Robbe tonight, “Yes, I have seen him.”

Aaron wiggles his eyebrows, sipping on his beer, “Did you two talk already?”

Robbe opens his beer, so tempted to just take one more look at the far corner on the left.

“No. There's nothing to talk about, Aaron.”

Robbe looks everywhere his eyes can reach without moving his body or head drastically. His anxiety is quickly building inside of him, quicker than he expected so he drinks a little more of his beer, unable to keep his mouth from going dry instantly after every sip.

It’s like his body and brain are fighting to decide what to do or to contain the other from deciding what to do. Robbe can’t think coherently and can’t move much, afraid to be caught doing something, anything. Anything feels like he’s doing something illegal at this point.

Aaron finally stops talking about whatever he was talking about and Robbe turns around, looking at the floor, wanting to go out to the balcony to see if he can breathe more easily there but he crashes into someone and he doesn’t have to look to know who it is.

“I was looking for you.” Sander smiles at him and Robbe stutters, not sure why Sander would be looking for him ever again.

“Hi…”

[thewhumperinwhite]

And Then You Kill Me, Part 1

hey, it’s been a hot minute, huh?

been sorta Going Through It, so uh... Vampire Time, featuring Art and Karim from FBI AU. (Though, for the record: this is their original incarnation, hence why fbi au is Called That.)

I’m gonna tag @whumpitywhumpwhump and also @sweetheartblue bc Karim is... her oc once removed, basically, so if you like this, Thank Sweetheart

Blanket Warning For This Story: this story heavily features suicide, including multiple suicide attempts.

TW for: attempted suicide; mentioned/”threatened” murder; slight foot whump; implied vampirism; referenced parental abuse; referenced captivity; prescription drug abuse; drowning mention.

----

Art doesn’t know how far he runs, or for how long, but by the time he stops the air smells like salt water, and also his feet feel like they’re filled with glass.

He hasn’t been out of his room for a full month. Or his father’s house for longer than that. There’s a sharp ache in the center of each of his calves, and muscles jumping in his thighs; he hasn’t used his legs for much of anything in weeks. He hasn’t even paced back and forth within the confines of his room like he did at first. Didn’t even stay on his feet for the entirety of his last few too-long showers.

The maid who let him out is new, at least to his wing of the house. She’s been bringing his meals for three weeks at the most, and collecting the trays after he refuses to eat it with increasingly visible discomfort.

She’s the only member of staff who broke his father’s injunction that no one should speak to him; said “You must eat something” in a soft, accented voice, looking around furtively.

He wasn’t been sure his father had actually given specific orders—thought maybe they all just hated him, or had decided among themselves that he was too much trouble to bother with—but this new girl was so clearly afraid of being caught, just speaking one sentence to him, that he knew his father must have said their jobs were on the line. For a little while he wondered why his father would bother. And then he felt stupid, for still wanting the old man to need a reason for things.

The new maid’s name is Noa. It took her a week to talk to him, and two more after before she felt brave or sympathetic enough to sneak him out.

Which means she probably didn’t know that this was always what he was going to do, the second he was out. Last time he didn’t do it fast enough, and the cops found him before he had the chance; this time he isn’t taking any chances.

Noa might feel guilty when they find his body. He thought about leaving a note—to tell her thanks, and that it wasn’t her fault—but he didn’t want to risk getting her in trouble, if she somehow managed to help him without getting caught.

Anyway, she hasn’t known him very long at all. She’ll get over it before too long.

He hasn’t been to this part of the city before. In fact he’s not sure what part of the city this is; he’s been running through a thick mental fog since he first left his father’s manicured lawn. He makes himself really look, now, blinking in the dim yellow light of the streetlamps.

He’s made it to the edge of the city, near where the river that runs through the center meets the ocean. It’s hard to believe this is the same river where his mother sips martinis and watches races between indistinguishable blinding-white boats (largely captained by indistinguishable blinding-white men, though Art doesn’t have much room to talk on that score, obviously).

Art steps out onto the dock. The wood is damp and rough, ice-cold on his bare feet, but it’s solid, and not very slippery. There’s an old railing along the edge, and he leans against it, wrapping already-numb fingers around the rough metal. The river’s wider here, the city lights on the other side further away than he’s used to. This must be where it starts to open out, stops being the river and starts being the bay.

The railing’s sturdy, but only as high as his waist. It’d be easy to climb over. The water must be freezing, maybe even cold enough to kill him on its own, before he has time to drown.

But he doesn’t know what the tides are like, here. His corpse might wash right out to sea, and then what will have been the point of any of this?

Art pries one hand off the railing—it’s already stiff with cold, and it takes more effort than it should—and puts it in his pocket, wraps his stinging pins-and-needles fingers around the reassuring shape of the pill bottle.

Art closes his eyes, and breathes in. The water smells worse, here—like industrial waste, mainly, with a hint of rotting seaweed. But it doesn’t smell like too-fancy cologne, or any of his mother’s preferred cocktails.

Art figures there are worse places to die.

He’s turning his head, looking around to see if there’s any place to sit or if he should just sit on the ground and lean against the railing—and then he spins wildly on his heel, stumbling back against the railing, his heart stuttering in his chest.

There’s a man standing at the edge of the dock, under the nearest streetlight, watching him.

The man is wearing a full suit, and Art can tell immediately that it’s been professionally tailored and that it’s at least partly silk and for a moment that’s all he can see—neatly pressed trousers and shiny black shoes, with patterns on the soles that leave bruises anyone could recognize if they wanted to, if they looked at Art’s face and throat and hands for even a second—

“—to startle you,” the man is saying, in a blessedly unfamiliar voice, and Art shakes his head, hard, to force his eyes back into focus.

The man is holding his hands up in surrender and looking slightly alarmed, presumably worried that Art is about to swoon at his feet. There’s a red silk ribbon hanging untied around the collar of the man’s shirt, and Art’s father only wears plain black ties.

The adrenaline runs out of Art’s veins in a rush, and this time his knees actually do give out on him, and he slithers down against the railing until he’s sitting on the damp wood, which is very cold through the thin fabric of his jeans.

The man blinks at him. He has big, long-lashed eyes, over-bright against his light-brown skin. His hair is bleach-blonde, glowing white-gold under the streetlamp; it’s mostly slicked back, with a few curls flopping loose over sculpted black eyebrows.

He isn’t standing on the docks themselves, but his suit—now that Art can really see, it’s pretty ostentatious, satin-shiny in the yellow glow, not something his father would wear at all—looks very out of place above the dirty concrete sidewalk, between two dingy, abandoned-looking buildings.

“You’re wearing a suit,” Art says, before he knows he’s going to say anything.

The man blinks his glow-in-the-dark eyes at him. His lashes are so long they cast visible shadows on his cheeks. He looks at Art, and then down at the suit; touches his own lapel gently with black-gloved fingers, like he’s just remembering that it’s there.

Then the man looks back up at Art, and says, “It’s Boglioli,” in a surprised sort of voice, like it’s a conditioned response.

“Ugh,” Art says, with perfect sincerity.

The man laughs, his full lips parting in a startled grin, and—

There’s something wrong with his teeth.

Art is still on the ground. There’s no sound except the river, behind him, water lapping quietly against wood. Art hasn’t slept properly in days. He’s prepared to believe he imagined it, except.

Except that the smile immediately drops off the man’s face, and his gloved hand twitches up as though in an aborted attempt to reach up and cover his mouth.

Art stares.

It was only for a second. But the man’s eyeteeth were too long, surely, poked down over his bottom lip, like they barely fit in his pretty red mouth.

Art’s ears are ringing. He feels cold, and then too warm.

The man takes a half-step back, his eyes not leaving Art’s face.

Art doesn’t move. He’s been out here in the cold for—an hour. Most of him is freezing, is almost painfully cold, but suddenly there’s heat in his cheeks and his ribcage and the palm of his hands.

He’s feeling something too big to identify. It doesn’t feel like fear.

The man is watching his face very closely.

“What’s your name?” he asks, finally. His voice is low and velvet-soft.

That does sent fear up into Art’s stomach like a knife. He shakes his head once, sharply, reaching up for the railing, ready to haul himself to his feet.

The man holds his gloved hands up again, in surrender. This time when he smiles he keeps his lips firmly together.

“No, alright, my mistake,” he says, smirking. It’s much worse than the grin; more controlled, less real. Art liked the grin better.

He liked the man’s smile better with teeth.

“I just, uh,” the man says, and he gestures toward Art’s feet, folded awkwardly underneath him. “That wood’s so dirty. Your cuts’ll get infected.”

Art’s feet do hurt. He’s run half the city with no shoes, they must be cut to shit. But he hasn’t left a trail of bloody footprints, or anything. Maybe the man can see that his feet are bare, but surely not more than that, not from where he’s standing.

When he leans over, a little, to see if his foot is a horrible bloody mess and he’s just missed it somehow, Art wobbles, and takes his hand out of his pocket to steady himself.

The bottle of pills clatters out of his pocket.

Art’s heart clenches painfully in his chest, and his head swims, and the bottle rolls easily across the wooden planks in front of him. The man takes one step forward, and it taps casually into the toe of his shiny black shoe.

The man picks the bottle up, frowning down at the label.

Art stumbles forward, onto his knees. “Give that back.”

“What is it?” the man says, voice nothing but curious. He’s reading the label. Art wants to tackle him and rip it out of his hands.

“It’s mine,” he says, and now he’s almost yelling. “Give it back!”

The man takes a step back, startled. “Huh,” he says, blinking down at Art, who is now kneeling practically at his feet. Art has no idea what kind of face he’s making.

“Really,” the man says slowly, and makes a show of squinting back down at the label. “This says… Honoria Lange, is what it says.” He raises a perfectly-sculpted brow at Art. “That’s you, is it?”

Art wants to rip this guy’s head off. “Maybe it is,” he says savagely, and reaches for the man’s hand; the man laughs and dances easily out of the way. “Give me my fucking pills back—"

“Oh, relax,” the man says, smirking again. “Seriously, what are you so desperate to—” He trails off, frowning down at the bottle. “…Huh.”

The man looks down at Art, thoughtfully.

“These are—what, sleeping pills,” he says slowly, and tips his head, like a curious dog.

Art’s stomach clenches painfully.

“Hey,” the man says. “Are you—”

Art throws himself to his feet.

This isn’t as good, Art thinks, while he swings his foot onto the lowest bar of the metal railing; they might not find his body for weeks, might not find it at all, he might die for nothing, but he won’t go back, he won’t go back to his father’s—

“Hey—Don’t!” the man yells, and he grabs Art by the hood of his sweatshirt, and yanks him backwards, off the railing.

Art gasps in a painful panicked breath and kicks out at the man with his bare, bleeding feet, aiming straight for the testicles; the man moves easily out of the way, not letting go of Art’s hoodie; Art overbalances and falls backward, just catching himself my scraping his hand bloody on the concrete at the bottom of the railing.

“Shit,” the man says, reaching for Art, and Art flails at him, wants to push him away, or to scratch out his shiny glass-marble eyes, or—

The man catches Art’s wrist easily. He’s leaning over Art, now, with one arm braced beside him, and holding Art’s arm; Art’s hand, his wrist in the man’s glove fist, is very close to the man’s face.

The heel of Art’s hand is cut open; a drop of blood trails down over his pulse point, and disappears into the fabric of the man’s glove.

The man’s pupils visibly dilate. When his lips part, his fangs are even more visible than before, like they barely fit inside his mouth.

Art feels his own lips part in response. Feels his fear—he’ll stop me he’ll call the police he’ll drag me back please no please please I’ll do anything—shift, pool lower in his belly.

The man is watching Art’s face—their faces are very close together now. He looks Art in the eye and—parts his lips slightly, so there can be no mistaking what they both know Art sees. Then he wets his lips, delicately, with an almost obscenely red tongue.

“Hey,” the man says, and his voice has gone slightly hoarse.

“No,” Art says—and his voice is hoarse, too, an embarrassing croak. His face is hot; he knows it must be red, now. “I don’t want it. Whatever you’re offering, I don’t—uh—”

Art tries to pull his arm back, as hard as he can. The man’s grip doesn’t budge a single inch. Like he could—like he could snap Art’s wrist, just by tightening his fist. Art swallows, his heart fluttering in his chest. His ribcage feels too tight. And now his pants are starting to feel that way, too.

The man studies Art’s face, very seriously. “I think,” he says, and his voice is softer, almost hesitant.

“I think,” the man says, watching closely for Art’s reaction, “that I am offering to kill you.”

[extasiswings]

"sigurista" for Eddie

Edit: On ao3 here.

sigurista: Someone who makes sure that everything goes as planned; the kind of person who will not act unless he totally feels sure that the desired result would be obtained. [Okay, this is probably cheating because it only very technically fits if you squint, but this is all the result of your enabling so.  If anyone wanted more White House AU Buddie, this is a follow up to this prompt fill.]  

It’s a quiet day.

Now, Buck’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but he can count on one hand the number of times his schedule has been so light throughout the first year of his presidency, so he can’t help checking it again and then a third time just to make sure. But it doesn’t change the longer he looks at it.

Okay. So, it’s a quiet, light day. That’s a good thing—it’s not like he can’t use the rest.

He’s just not sure why he can’t quite work the tension out of his shoulders, why he feels poised on the edge of a tightrope made of razor wire about to either fall or get sliced.

By noon, all of his scheduled meetings are finished and he’s even managed to catch up on some of the reports he’d been meaning to dig deeper into. He’s antsy and full of untethered energy and, finally, he closes the file he’s looking through and crosses the room to knock on the door connecting the Oval with the Chief of Staff’s office.

(After the last time he walked in without thinking and got an eyeful of his sister and Chim that made him want to bleach his brain, he always knocks.)

“Hey, Chim—I’m going to head back to the residence for the rest of the day—”

The main office door opens.

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that, Mr. President,” Athena says, and it’s been enough time that Buck knows when the head of the secret service shows up personally and without warning it means nothing good. Right behind her, the aide to his National Security Advisor comes skidding to a halt, out of breath.

“You’re needed in the situation room, sir.”

Buck looks back at Athena.

“Michael—?”

(It may well be a conflict of interest that the Vice President’s ex-wife is responsible for making sure Buck stays alive, but then, Buck’s pretty sure there’s no less of one than the fact that his sister is dating his Chief of Staff so...)

“He’s being moved to a secure location,” she replies. “But yes, Bobby’s waiting in the sit room. I can fill you in on the way.”

Buck swears internally and runs a hand through his hair.

“Okay. What do we have?”

“Bomb threat and possible shooter at the Pentagon,” Athena says, and Buck’s heart stops, ice freezing his insides. Because that’s—

“You know, some of us have actual work to do,” Eddie said the night before, the look in his eyes exasperated but fond in the dim light from the lamp on his desk.

“You mean entertaining the leader of the free world isn’t in your job description, Lieutenant Diaz?” Buck had teased right back, reveling in the quirk of Eddie’s lips.

“Yeah, well, you’re going to have to find someone else to entertain you tomorrow—I’ll be in meetings with the joint chiefs at the Pentagon all day. Should be thrilling stuff.”

“Maybe I’ll invent a national security emergency—get you out of it.”

Eddie laughed. “Please don’t, they’ll just reschedule. And then there will be paperwork.”

—that’s where Eddie is.

“How the fuck does that happen?” Buck croaks out, feeling like he’s swallowed glass.

“We’re working out the exact details,” Athena replies. “But it’s fairly clear it was an inside job. Whoever it is killed one of the marines on duty and called in the bomb himself, we’re looking at the security feeds and card access records to narrow down a name.”

She finishes just as they step through the door of the situation room and Bobby looks up.

“Dennis Pierce,” he fills in. “He’s been there eight years, looks like he was identified as part of the investigation to see which employees might have ties to white supremacist groups. He hasn’t been fired yet because the investigation isn’t  finished, but I guess he saw the writing on the wall.”

“And thought he would tender his resignation by, what? Blowing up the joint chiefs?” Buck can hear the edge in his voice, which means Bobby definitely can as well.

(They met on the campaign trail, when Buck started getting intelligence briefings that made him feel like he was drowning, in over his head. But Bobby never treated him like an idiot who didn’t know the first thing about national security, was always patient, willing to sit with him and explain. And by now, Buck’s pretty sure he would be lost without him. Without him and—)

“We’re not going to let that happen,” Bobby replies, his own voice carefully even. Steady. “We have a bomb squad on site and every armed guard in the building looking for this guy, not to mention that most of the people he’s likely to run into are combat-trained military.”

The phone on the desk rings and Bobby picks it up as the door opens and the heads of the FBI and CIA file in.

“Copy that,” Bobby says and hangs up, tapping a few keys on his keyboard to bring up blueprints on the main screen and highlighting a room on the fifth floor.

“Someone pressed one of the hidden panic buttons in conference room J,” he explains. “Bomb squad is on its way and we should be getting camera feeds—now.”

The feed flickers into the screen and steals Buck’s breath all over again, because there, on the screen, with his hands raised and facing down an older, grizzled white man with a gun in one hand and a trigger to the bomb vest strapped to his chest in the other—is Eddie.

“There’s no audio,” Buck points out as Eddie’s lips move too quickly for him to read anything clearly.

“There aren’t any speakers or mics in the room.”

Maybe not, but—over Pierce’s shoulder, Buck notices a phone on the wall.

“I want to talk to him,” he says. “Call the room.”

Bobby’s look is sharp when he turns to look at him.

“Sir, I really wouldn’t advise—”

“Call,” Buck repeats, his tone booking no argument.

Bobby’s lips press thin, but he picks up the phone, speaking quietly into the receiver while Buck doesn’t look away from the camera feed, his stomach twisting itself into knots as Pierce shakes his head violently in response to whatever Eddie is saying. Time seems to slow the longer he watches, even as Bobby passes him the phone.

“Extension 3596,” Bobby says quietly. And Buck dials.

He can’t see the phone ring on the feed, but he sees the effect—Pierce twitches, his head whipping around in surprise, and Eddie takes advantage of the distraction to move—

The feed cuts out.

The phone keeps ringing.

“What happened?” Buck demands. “What—we have to get it back, we have to—”

The line picks up.

“This is General O’Halloran, who am I speaking with?”

Buck swallows hard.

“General, this is the President. What’s your status?”

“Lieutenant Diaz neutralized the threat, sir. Passed him off to the bomb squad waiting outside. We’re all safe and sound.”

There’s something rising up in his throat, and Buck isn’t sure if it’s just a wave of overwhelming emotion or if it’s actually bile.

“Glad to hear it, General,” he chokes out.

He passes the phone back to Bobby and shoves back his chair then, not caring whether they need him for anything, just needing—needing—

Buck rips at the knot of his tie as he steps into the hallway, and only barely makes it through the door of the bathroom at the end of it before he throws up in the sink.

The door opens again a moment later, as he’s gripping the edge of the sink trying to get his adrenaline under control.

“It’s okay, Buck,” Athena says quietly. “Everyone’s fine. Especially him.”

Buck could almost laugh at that if he was in any sort of mood. Because he hasn’t even told Eddie—not technically—hasn’t ever done anything to truly cross a line, but apparently everyone knows anyway.

“I could have lost him...and I would have had to watch,” he says.

“But you didn’t.”

Buck rinses his mouth out and spits.

“Is Bobby pissed at me for walking out?”

Athena shrugs. “I doubt it. I can take you back to the residence now if you want—tell Bobby to finish up and debrief you later.”

Buck swallows again. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

He pauses as half an idea comes into his head, then adds—

“Hey, Athena?  Do you think—”

Which is how he finds himself waiting in a car outside a condo in Virginia with an extra protective detail at nine that night as his regular agents knock on the door. A woman with dark hair opens the door, and Buck can see the way her eyebrows shoot up as she exchanges quick words with the agents before they step inside to conduct their sweep. A minute passes, then the agent at his side taps her earpiece.

“Clear. Got it,” she says, and that’s all Buck needs to get out of the car.

The same dark-haired woman is standing in the entryway, arms crossed, when he walks through the door. He stops in his tracks, suddenly nervous as her calculating gaze trails over him.

“Adriana?” He guesses, and she hums.

“A little warning would have been nice,” she says, but Buck thinks he catches a hint of a smile as she turns on her heel to go down the hallway off the kitchen to what he assumes is a bedroom. “Good night, Mr. President.”

Buck opens his mouth to say something, when Eddie himself appears at the top of the stairs, hair wet and clothes sticking to his skin like he’s just jumped out of the shower.

“Adriana, what the hell—” Eddie cuts off the moment his eyes land on Buck and she just laughs before she disappears down the hall.

“Hi,” Buck says quietly.

“Hey,” Eddie replies. There’s a bruise blossoming over his cheek and Buck’s fingers itch to touch it, or really, to touch Eddie everywhere he can to remind him that he’s here, he’s alive, Buck didn’t lose—

Eddie clears his throat and makes his way the rest of the way down the stairs.

“You’re...in my house.”

Buck shifts his weight. “You almost died today.”

Eddie blows out a breath and rakes a hand through his wet hair.

“Guess you didn’t have to fake that national security emergency after all.”

“Guess not.”

Eddie’s gaze turns considering, his brow furrowing as an odd look crosses his face.

“So...I almost die...and that warrants you showing up in the middle of the night?  Why?”

Buck wets his lips, feeling like he can barely hold Eddie’s eyes. His pulse is racing, blood rushing in his ears, and his voice is a mere rasp when he says—

“You know why.”

You have to know.

Eddie glances down at the floor, then over to the windows where the curtains are closed. Then he nods once.

“Maybe. But...I think I need you to say it.”

Buck nearly throws his hands up. “Fuck, Eddie, because I love—”

He doesn’t finish the sentence because Eddie closes the distance and kisses the rest away, backing Buck against the closed front door. Buck nearly chokes on relief as his hand scramble to twist into Eddie’s damp t-shirt and pull him even closer.

“I thought—” he gasps out when Eddie breaks the kiss in favor of pressing a trail of them down his neck— “I thought you were going to die and I wasn’t going to get to tell you.”

Eddie pauses his exploration, hands spasming on Buck’s hips.

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes against his skin. “Yeah, me too.”  

Buck threads his fingers through Eddie’s hair and tugs him back up to kiss him again.

“Athena says she’ll kill me if I’m not back by midnight,” he admits.

Eddie’s lips quirk as he curls a finger through one of Buck’s belt loops and tugs him towards the stairs.

“Then we’re swimming in time.”

[amlovelies]

34 for chargestep

thank you for the prompt anon 💜 I started writing this from Ric’s point of view but then changed my mind and rewrote the whole thing

34. The feel of fingers brushing together by accident

from the sensory prompt list

presque vu

fandom: fhr

pairing: Ricardo Ortega/nb!sidestep (Vesper Bui)

rating: T reference to death and some language Vesper is a jerk. angst

words: 2.2k

read on ao3

            The coffee shop is a familiar sight. You could squint and almost pretend it was seven years ago except the awning has been bleached by the sun. You remember the trees as thin anemic things, and now they tower over your head. Large enough to conceal you as you watch Ortega pacing near the entrance.

                He hasn’t noticed you yet; you could still walk away. Stand him up, maybe then he’ll quit asking, quit trying. You shouldn’t even be here. Why was it so hard to resist him?

                You know why

.                  It’s should be easier now. It should be easier to tell him to fuck off and leave you alone. You know how this story ends. He’ll leave you behind. He’ll drag you out into the world, make you a person, make you real, and then leave you

.                 You catch a thought of a woman walking by. She’s a pretty young thing, long legs on display, hair falling in shining waves over her shoulders. She’s noticed Ortega, recognized him. Trying to working up the courage, debating with herself, should she approach him? It’s not every day you see a super hero in the flesh. It would take nothing, just the tiniest tweak, give her the confidence and make her walk over. He never could resist a pretty face. He’d forget all about meeting you for coffee. It would be the smarter thing to do.

                 You don’t do that. Instead, you make her forget, add in a little anxiety, a certainty that she is going to be late to quicken her step. Instead of doing the smart thing and walking away you let yourself be drawn to him. Inexorable.

                “There you are,” his smile is wide.

               “Did you think I stood you up?”

               A nervous chuckle, “maybe a little. It’s good to see you.” He means it. Or at least you think he does. So hard to interpret like trying to identify an object by feel alone. Familiar shapes that itch and scratch at your memory.                  A chill down your spine as you walk inside. Like stepping into your own past, but then you look closer. It’s not the same. The walls are the same color, a soft brown, and the layout remains the same, but the décor is more modern. The tables sleeker, lower backs on the chairs, more outlets for people working off laptops. So similar but not the same. You can’t go back.

                He frowns when you order a red eye, gets ready to say something, but you shoot him a glare which shuts him up. He’s the one who suggested coffee; he can’t act concerned when you order it. Probably noticed the slight tremor to your hands. So observant sometimes, and then at others so willfully obtuse. 

               Maybe he only sees what he wants to. The bags under your eyes fit the narrative he wants. The one where you are just a broken shell of the person you used to be. Just waiting for him to come along and put you back together. An insomniac with jittery hands instead of bloody ones. 

               “I thought for sure this place would have gone out of business,” you say before taking a sip of your coffee. It’s good, rich and earthy with just a hint of caramelly sweetness from the espresso. It’s a world of difference from the gas station drip and instant crap you’ve been mainlining for the last few years. “You’re really leaning into the nostalgia factor here, Ric”

                “Have to use all the weapons in my arsenal,” he says with a wink.

                “You never were any good at tactics, old man.”

                His smile is wide much more dangerous than a familiar cup of coffee. Always too contagious, that was how he drew you in. Made you believe you could have a life.

                “I don’t know from where I’m sitting it worked. I got you here, didn’t I?” Smug. Always so smug and confident, taking up too much space. Somehow feeling too close even though there’s a table between you and he’s not leaning forward. “Besides, I didn’t have to be good at them, I had you.” Now he is soft and that is worse. Trying to catch your gaze, a hand sliding out as if to grab yours.

                A twitch, an urge to reach out. To take his hand and pretend he didn’t leave you, pretend you could be a person, that you can feel. No. shut that door. Shut it down hard. “Someone had to save your reckless ass. It’s a miracle you only got me killed once.” You scoff.

                You aren’t looking at him as you say it. Maybe you should be, get to see the hit land. You want to hurt him, right? To punish him, because this is all his fault

.                 A strangled sound, and you can’t help but look up. He looks worse than he did when you visited in the hospital. “Are you ready to give up now?” you keep your voice cold. Maybe this will make him open his stupid eyes and realize you aren’t his old friend. They’re gone. Just as much as Anathema

.                 “No,” his voice is determined but you recognize that smile. You’ve seen it a dozen times. When a fight was going south, when things looked hopeless. He’d flash that smile, and somehow, you’d always made it out. Well almost. “I’ve got a thicker skin than that, Bui.”

               “Idiot,” you shake your head. It had felt so good to hurt him at the gala. Why did it feel so bad now?

               “Sure,” he agrees, “but you’re still here.”

               You are still here. It used to be so easy. You’ve felt nothing but rage for so many years. Nothing but the fire inside you, and then he walked into that stupid diner. Emotions had never been your strong suit. Even when you were trying to be a person it was still hard. Still hard to understand what you were feeling or how you were supposed to act. He was always the worst of it. At least with others you could take cues from their mind. He gave you nothing, gives you nothing. “I never said I wasn’t an idiot too,” you say with a sigh as you run a hand down your face.

                “Walk?” He’s already standing as if he knows your answer. Part of you want to be petulant to stay, to not follow his lead, but you stand up too

.                 The park across the street isn’t busy. There are a few kids on the playground, looks like it’s gotten a new corporate sponsor. For all it’s shiny new colors it still looks much like you remember it. There’s a woman on a bench reading a romance novel and sighing wistful as she thinks of her new coworker. Some teens are buying weed behind the bathrooms. Nothing dangerous and it’s easy to make the two of you pass unnoticed

.                 Walking is good. You don’t have to look at him, but you are still aware of him. Walking too close, he never had any respect for personal space

.                 His fingers brush against yours. You could call it an accident, but you can feel his eyes on you. You wait, sure he has something to say, but for once he keeps his mouth shut. Just the gentle knock of his knuckles against yours. Are there scars there from where he broke himself against your armor? It had made you smile once thinking that he’d be marked. Marked by you the same way you’ve been marked by him. Now you aren’t so sure

.                  “I don’t know how to do this,” the admission is quiet, and you hate how your voice sounds. It’s a small vulnerable thing like the pieces of yourself you left on the sidewalk seven years ago

.                 “Do what?”

                “Talk-“ a frustrated sigh- “be around you. Have friends.” You lengthen your stride, but he keeps up easily. Of course, he does. Nothing you do ever seems to really shake him, but he could always get under your skin                “Maybe you just need practice?”

               Instead of an answer you walk over to a nearby bench and take a seat. You take a sip from your coffee to avoid speaking. It’s growing cold, but you hesitate to finish it. You still need it. Need something to keep your hands busy, something to fill the awkwardness between you

.                 “Do you remember the kites-“ he begins to ask gesturing to the open field and large tree  in front of you

.                 “Yeah, I do,” You smile before adding, “I still think we should have invited Sentinel.”

               “No,” his answer is firm, just like it had been back then, but his voice is lighter than it’s been all morning. “That would have been cheating.”

               “Easy to say when you weren’t the one who had to climb the tree,” you say with a laugh. You’d been taught laughter as a technique. It was a tool, to be deployed at the right moments, to set others at ease. So different from the involuntary reaction it was around him. He was always too good at drawing it out of you. “Who knew the Marshal of Los Diablos would struggle so much with something so simple as flying a kite.”

                He bumps his shoulder against yours, “I didn’t want to rob you of part of the experience.”

                You remember he’d waxed philosophical about the importance of doing it the old-fashioned way. Of running to gather speed and watching it begin to soar behind you, that it was more fun if it took a couple tries. Empty words about childhood magic and how he hoped you could recapture it, that he could show this little piece that must have been missing from yours. He would never really understand it wasn’t just about kites, or making s’mores, or playing pirates. It wasn’t just particular experiences you were missing but the whole thing.

                You’d never had a childhood. There was nothing to recapture because you never had it in the first place. Just like you’d never had a name until he teased and cajoled you to give him one. All you had was incubation tubes and handlers and endless white walls. There was nothing magical about the chains on your wrist, the chains on your mind, the monsters that stalked the halls

.                “Bui?” you hear his voice as if from a distance. There’s a child crying somewhere and you know it’s because of you. The park has emptied. The romance novel lies forgotten on the bench, too much of a hurry to get away from you. Unable to stand even a hint of your memories. Good, they should run.

                  You’re the monster now.

                He doesn’t seem to notice the effect you have. He’s only looking at you. Eyes wide and a concerned wrinkle between his brow. This is something he could never understand. How could he? He’s untouched. Untouched with his unknowable static mind. You wish you could take it in your hands and twist it into a shape you could recognize. Something that you could interpret and begin to understand, but it always slips out. Like trying to grab mist or sunlight. You can feel it against your skin, against your shields, but you can’t affect it.

                “It’s fine.”

                You don’t need to read his mind to know he doesn’t believe you. Ortega may be a fool, but he was never stupid.

                His hand brushes against yours again. Slower this time, lingering, letting his finger drag along yours. It tingles. If you didn’t know better, you’d say it was his mods acting up, but you’ve been shocked by him before and it felt nothing like this.

                It’s an itch under your skin driving you to some sort of action. To punch him in the face or pull him in and kiss him. You don’t do either, just pull your hand away.

                “You don’t have to do that.” His voice is quiet, gentle, just like the touch of his hand had been.

                “I’m not doing anything.”

               “Yes, you are. I can see you’re pretending to be fine when you aren’t. I know you better than that.” There’s something in his eyes, something begging you to give in, to let him in.

                You want to. Some small stupid part of your brain remembering how it felt. How it felt to be real, to be more than just an instrument of vengeance. To be a person. To laugh.

                You shake your head, “not anymore.”  You know how that ends. Rising form the bench, you burn away that little voice, the one that wants to stay, to take his hand, to let him care about you. All you have is your fire. You won’t let his stupid brown eyes and fond memories douse the flames. He’d be disappointed if he did anyway. Can’t he tell there’s nothing left of you but ashes?

               “Vesper,” he calls after you begin to walk away.

                “Just give up, Ric,” you don’t turn around as you say it. You just start walking, one foot in front of the other.

                He doesn’t get up, but his words follow you as you exit the park, “I won’t.”

                 It’s just like him to get the last word in. 

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

BTS at Golden Disc Awards 2021

by Admin 1

On the 9th and 10th of January 2021 BTS attended the Golden Disc Awards, and performed on the second day as well. Being there they won the Digital Bonsang for Dynamite on the 9th and the Bonsang, as well as the Album Daesang for Map of the Soul : 7, on the 10th. Amazing achievements which I sincerely congratulate them on.

When it comes to the performance, it was, most certainly, another amazing collection of stages bringing something new once more, even if they presented songs we’ve already seen at previous award shows this season. The opening came in form of Black Swan, though they didn’t sing any of it. It was more an intro showcasing the entrance of the members and highlighted Yoongi’s return to the stage, at least partially. 

The stage featured big metal winds, low lighting, and the members clad in black and white clothing including leather elbow length gloves for Namjoon and Yoongi, and pretty chockers for Taehyung and Jimin. The highlight though was Jungkook’s hair which isn’t dark anymore, but instead has been bleached and dyed a pretty blond. Personally I think it suits him pretty well. 

More below the cut since this is shaping up to be pretty long:

Next up was ON, which was powerful and fierce, though still missing Yoongi, which is all too understandable. Even though he can stand on stage again and hold his mic in his left hand (his surgery was on the left shoulder), it will still be a while until he’ll be able to dance with the members. ON has certainly grown a lot on me and I enjoy their performances of it immensely, and it was much the case this time as well.

The transition from ON to Life Goes On came in form of the stage being made to look like their individual rooms from BE which appeared on the digital walls around them. Their clothes were mostly comfy, though Jimin’s resembled their outfits from all the way back during I NEED U/RUN era. The transition/VCR like moment ended with the instrumental to We Are Bulletproof : The Eternal and the stage looking much the way the MV did with the whale swimming around them in an ocean of shades of purple, blue and pink.

For Life Goes On they had miniature versions of some of their most iconic MV sets on pedestals. It was a really cute idea and I enjoyed the execution a lot. The members seemed relaxed and enjoying themselves, Jimin and Taehyung even having their little moment of looking at each other twice, these moments certainly having become something I always kind of look forward to when it comes to LGO stages. 

Another tiny Jimin and Taehyung detail was Jimin sending a brief, barely noticeable (by the viewer) finger heart which I hadn’t even noticed until my fourth rewatch. It definitely fits with all these other small gestures we’ve seen from these two in recent months, like the finger hearts and kissy faces during their Lotte Family Concert performance of Boy with Luv or hugging each other on day 1 and doing a fun handshake and dance on day 2 during Dionysus at the MOTS ON:E concert visible only on one of the side cameras, not the main one.

The grand finale was the Slow Jam remix of Dynamite which worked perfectly with the chill out lounge/bar atmosphere created on stage fitting with the Great Gatsby theme. The members wore mostly suits in white, blue in Namjoon’s case, and a bright yellow when it comes to Taehyung, as well as Hoseok who had a white button down which Tae did not. While a normal person would look ridiculous in it, Taehyung looked absolutely stunning and made it more than work. After so many energetic performances of Dynamite since its release, seeing such a calm version was really nice and refreshing, showing how versatile BTS and their music are, how they can captivate an audience with fast songs made for big choreographies and stage productions, but also these slow, more chill types of tracks. A marvelous idea, truly.

There was also an encore stage where they sang ON again but this time along with Yoongi on stage which had some hilarious moments, especially Namjoon and Seokjin being silly waving their arms around while kneeling opposite each other on stage during Jungkook’s bridge. Cute.

Afterward the members were at something like a red carpet after interview where they took pictures with their awards (Jungkook and Taehyung even making their Bonsang and Daesang awards kiss much the way film director Bong Joon Ho made his two Oscars kiss last year) and were asked to do a relay of saying something to each other. 

All translations of their words are taken from Vernal_Bom on twitter.

J-hope to Jimin 

“I didn’t feel lonely in 2020 thanks to Jimin. Thank you for making me laugh. Give me happiness and laugh in 2021 as well.”  Jimin (turning to Namjoon): “It seems he can never live without me” 

Honestly the bond between Jimin and Hoseok is so cute and wonderful and you can see, and hear in their words, how important they are to each other, and how grateful Hobi is. We know the members were having a really hard time in 2020 so it doesn’t surprise me that Hobi would highlight the other members, or in this case Jimin, as one of the main reasons why he made it through it. After all we also know that those two made a song together which unfortunately didn’t make it onto BE. Hopefully we might get it one day at least as SoundCloud release, or perhaps on the next album instead.

Jimin to RM 

It was you who made us pull ourselves together to go through 2020. I am always grateful, and it’d be nice if you share you height a little with me in 2021, be healthy and happy. RM: Okay thank you

I love how Jimin used this (public) opportunity to tell/remind Namjoon of how important he was for them especially in 2020, as leader and surely also as friend, yet still also made a little joke to still keep the atmosphere light. After he was done speaking Jimin also hugged Namjoon, which showed once more how tiny he is in comparison.

RM to JK 

It’s finally today, Jungkook-si, in 10 years! You are Golden Maknae! The day that you will prove your nickname! You are proving it right now with your hair color, but in 2021, I hope the year will be filled with gold, like your nickname. Stay healthy. Let’s ‘Jje-kkit-up’ together this year too! (check it up.. the usual Namjoon saying lol)

It’s quite something to think about and realize, isn’t it, this year 10 years pass since Jungkook became a BigHit trainee and moved into their first dorm with Namjoon, Hoseok, Yoongi and Seokjin. I’m curious if Bangtan, as well as BigHit, have some kind of plan for JK specifically for this year that Namjoon chose to highlight his Golden Maknae nickname in such a way, or if it was more of a reminder to JK, that he’s so worthy despite how he doubts himself, and despite how he himself said he’s been going through tough times in 2020.

JK to V 

V hyung, when we were trainees we were getting along so well, (V: We are not now???) No!!! i didn’t mean it. You are becoming so much of an stand-up (reliable, I assume in this context) guy. Thank you for doing all the schedules with us.  jhope: who’s hyung here?

The bond these two share might just be one of the biggest mysteries and causes for conflicts and fights within the fandom, or particular parts of it. After their conversation In The SOOP, I’d like to believe they’ve figured out whatever issue might've arisen between them in the past, found a way to solve and move past it slowly, and rekindled their friendship once more. Seeing at how well they’ve been getting along (on camera) these past few months, I think it might've been so. It’s curious to me though that JK chose to say this instead of something more akin to what Jimin said to Namjoon, or Hoseok to Jimin.

V to Jin 

V: (turns to Jin)  Jin: This is too close V: I listened to Abyss and that makes my heart ache too... Jin: Thank you V: hyung, your song is so good. Make more songs in 2021, let Army and us listen to your song more. Jin: Okayokay  V: and I play game with you to relieve stress.... sorry for talking in ban-mal (informal form). —(also speaking in informal way) Jin: No no it was so fun V: I love you Jin: I love you too

I absolutely adore the bond these two share and I love that Tae chose to say what he did. We know Seokjin has been going through a hard time in 2020, that he dealt with something I’d call imposter syndrome, so I’m glad we got to know even more about how Tae was there for him, something we otherwise would’ve never known. Certain people try to portray Tae as the one member that is almost estranged from his other members, who barely has anything to do with the group outside of schedules, and yet it’s moments like this--as well as Seokjin telling us in his birthday vlive that Tae organized for everyone including his non-BTS friends to send Seokjin birthday wishes in video form to show him how loved and appreciated he is--are the proof that those people are wrong. Tae is very close with his members, and he’s the ambassador of OT7 or nothing, the members his closest friends and brothers, his found and chosen family.

Jin to Suga 

Jin: Yoongi ya, do it well. Suga: Okay.... Jin: Do well on your rehab, and...uh... let’s do well going forward. Suga: Okay.. I will...

These two are so close yet due to their introverted nature their interactions such as this one are just so hilarious and adorable at the same time. Their dynamic is wonderful and this just seems like peak Yoongi-Jin behavior.

Suga to j-hope 

SG: (unable to look into hobi’s eyes) Our hobi JH: Suga! SG: You did work hard in 2020 (evading eye contact) JH: hahhahahah and? SG: Let’s not fall sick in 2021, and hwaiting...  JH: “Hwaiting hyung, and take good care of your health!”

The saga of Yoongi being unable to look Hoseok in the eye continues and it’s just as precious as ever. They stood so close, and while Yoongi wasn’t able to look into Hoseok’s eyes, it’s funny how he was the one who initiated the whole “them standing so close together” thing. I love the difference between how Seokjin didn’t even try to make eye-contact while Hoseok playfully challenged Yoongi and tried to coax him into it anyway knowing it’ll make Yoongi laugh and smile. It’s such a Yoongi-Hoseok thing, I love it.

And with that, the award was over and now also my post. I hope you enjoyed reading it! :3

[txemrn]

Hey, sweet friends!

I inadvertently took a smidge of a step back from writing thanks to real life (you all can relate!). Between Covid relief (9 months later *wink*wink* 🤰🏼🤰🏼🤰🏼) and a crazy ❄⛄SNOW⛄❄ storm here in Texas, writing took that metaphorical backseat.

But I'm here, and I've got some WIPs I'd love to share with y'all...  who's ready for WIP Wednesday?  Click "Keep Reading" to enjoy five bits of fics I've been writing (the fourth and fifth are bonuses that I have NO idea when they will be released; they are for your amusement, to tease you a bit *shrugs* or something like that).

Before I continue... @lucy-268 @anjanettexcordonia @ao719 @bbrandy2002 @shannonsaid @khoicesbyk @shewillreadyou @irisofpurple @lem-20 what are y'all working on?

The Missionary’s Daughter (Chapter 1--Name TBD; TRR) 🍋

Halos of blurred auras bleach his vision as Drake cautiously opens one blood-shot eye. His tongue sticks to the roof of his roughly parched mouth as he massages his pained forehead. Clueless of what day it is--much less what he did last night--he is greeted with a sudden glorious sensation: a supple wet mouth on his hardened morning length.

His body relaxes back onto the dampened, disheveled sheets of his bed; he releases a pleasurable exhale as he blindly reaches for the head behind the lips. He strains to focus his view, but can only make out a foggy shape of a nude woman with long, tousled brunette waves.

Of course, it’s her.

Drake smiles; delicately tangling his grip in her strands, he admires how even the afternoon sun catches her beauty perfectly. He quietly smacks his lips. He can still smell her on his stubble; he can still taste her on his tongue.

Did she come clean to Liam? Were they celebrating that they could finally be together?

As she takes in the head of his girth, he arches his back, relaxing his body into her hungry touch. Closing his eyes, he offers a guttural groan deep in his chest as she swirls her tongue around his firm thickness.

“God, you’re incredible, Riley--”

------------------------------- Caroline (Chapter 3--Name TBD; TNA/OH crossover)

"Hello? Anyone here?" Her voice echoes throughout the Dalton penthouse as she pushes the stroller further into the living room.

A stirring Mason catches her attention as she cautiously bends over to settle him down.

"It's okay, um--" she looks at his monogrammed onesie for his name, "--’Mason’. Come here, sweet boy," she snuggles him into her neck, soothing him with gentle rubs and taps on his back. "There, there."

"Sof?"

The platinum blonde instantly twirls around to face the deep voice as she grips tightly around Mason.

"Oh, Sam--" she sighs with a forced laugh. "You scared me--"

"Is Caroline with you?" he stutters as he finishes his whiskey neat.

"No, um--" she bounces Mason on her hip, averting her eyes to a yawning Mickey. "She--she should be back sometime this evening though. I--I don't know--"

"Is--" he interjects, his voice growing husky, "--is Robin here?" Sofia feels the prickling of a thousand goosebumps ignite across her body as Sam's hand glides across her lower back. She clears her throat, stepping away from him.

"C'mon, my little munchkins," she joyfully chimes to the twins as she gathers Mickey into her arms. She sits them softly into their play pin, tossing each of them a musical toy.

As she stands back up, Sam grips tightly to the curve of her hips

"Sam--!" she gasps as he intimately runs his hands across her abdomen to rest on her voluptuous breasts. Her eyes flutter shut; she nibbles on her lips as he nuzzles his nose into her neck. She feels him grow against her backside.

"Sam, please--"

"'Please' what, kitten?"

"Ugh--" she scoffs as she throws his hands off of her body. "We said that the last time would be our last--"

"Please, Sofia, " he stops her in her tracks, "I need--" his lip trembles; liquor dances on his tongue as he leans closer to her dangerous curves. "I need--"

"--your wife."

"Fuck!" He abruptly throws himself onto the couch, raking his hands through his thick, tousled hair.

"I'm losing her, Sof." He leans back on the couch as Sofia cautiously sits next to him. Heated tears streak down his chiseled face as he plays with his wedding band. He lowers his voice as he chokes on his sobs.

"I think I've lost her. "

-------------------------- Boughs & Mockingbirds (Part 5; TRR/TRH)

After modeling three dresses, Hana twirls out in a dreamy white ball gown with a flattering fitted-bodice. The ornate gold filigree bead-work brought out her natural ethereal tones, instantly brightening and highlighting her gorgeous, exotic features.

“Hana--!” Riley spits out her sparkling water. “Oh-- oh my God!”  With a stunned-look plastered on her face, she jumps from her bed, skipping quickly to her floor-length mirror. “Look at you!”

“I’m guessing this is a keeper?” Hana giggles as she walks on her tip-toes, envisioning the dress with her new shoes.

“Uh, yeah!” Riley squeals, twirling Hana’s silky hair into a make-shift up-do to show off her bare skin. Biting her lower lip, she lowers her voice to whisper into her friend’s ear: “Not to mention, a certain ‘Maxwell the Glorious’ won’t be able to keep his hands off of you.”

“Riley! You’re wicked! We’re just--” she blushes while shrugging her shoulders, “--um, friends.”

“I’m pregnant, not stupid,” she jokingly chides. “These past few weeks with the book tour, I’ve noticed you two becoming quite the dynamic duo.”

Hana falls silent; she mindlessly admires the beading of her white gown with her fingers as a joyous smile crawls across her face. Her bright, brown eyes pierce into Riley’s as she slowly nods.

“He’s pretty great--”

“I knew it!” Riley grabs Hana’s hands as they dance recklessly in a circle, laughter filling the room.

“Oh, you’re gonna dance with somebody--” Riley sings, purposely changing the lyrics to jest with her best friend.

“I’m gonna feel the heat with somebody--” Hana cups her mouth, laughing at herself with what she just sang.

“’Heat’?” Riley howls. “Ow! Ow! Now who’s being wicked?” They both grab their bellies as their sides ache from their silliness and excitement.

“Oh gosh,” Riley strains to breathe, “Thank you, Hana. I haven’t laughed like this in--”

“Oh my God! Riley?” Hana’s voice suddenly drips with panic. “Your nose--” ------------------------ Fractals (Bonus wannabe series; crossover of Platinum/TRR; I have fantasized about this series for probably 8 MONTHS, and I finally took off writing a chapter; this is a smidge of that chapter, and this series will come, at the earliest, after B&MB)

“Here’s to living in the headlines,” she mutters to herself, offering her glass as a toast in the air.  She tosses the rest of her drink back. The bartender quickly replenishes the alcohol as she digs frantically in her oversized Dior bag.  Pulling out a lone cigarette, she sets it neatly between her teeth as she searches for a lighter.

“Miss?” a soft, baritone voice calls to her, but floats away as she continues to sift through her purse.  The gentleman clears his throat in hopes of catching her attention. “Pardon me, miss?” His thick, European-influenced accent is more apparent this time, but still she doesn’t notice.

“Excuse me, miss--?”

“What?” She interrupts angrily as she hastily swivels in her barstool, knocking her bag and its contents on the floor. “Shit--!”  she clumsily fumbles to the floor to gather her belongings.

“Here; let me help--”

“You’ve done enough, sir--” she cuts off the young man as she madly shoves tubes of makeup, magazines, loose coins and scrunchies back into her satchel. She looks around the floor for any wayward items when she notices something black being offered to her.

“Miss?”

Looking up, she finally takes notice of the man behind the voice. And freezes. The electricity of his presence overwhelms her fragile senses. He offers her a bright, charming smile, creating dimples that soften his chiseled bone structure. A sensual aura of citrus, guaiac wood and leather dance across his coastal skin as sun rays illuminate brightly from his wavy blond hair. 

She gradually stands along with him, her brilliant jade eyes locked into his striking baby-blues. His strong physique impressively towers over her petite frame. She admires his handsomely neat demeanor of pressed dark-wash denim with a light heather-gray sports coat.

“Hi,” she manages to squeeze out as her mouth confuses between dropping and smiling.

“Hello,” he chuckles with a smile. “Pardon me, but I do believe you, um--well, you, uh--,” he pauses as he glances towards his outstretched arm, “you dropped these.”

Regretfully breaking her trance from his hypnotic gaze, the color quickly drains from her face as the feeling of horror crawls across her porcelain skin. Her crotchless, black-lace g-string tangled effortlessly between his fingers.

“Oh-- oh my God!” she shrieks as she reaches to grab and hide them; but unfortunately, the missing gusset between the leg bands, snags on his gold signet ring, leaving his first two fingers hung on the crotchless portion of the thong.

“I must say,” his eyes twinkle as he laughs harder at her incessant efforts to detangle the fabric from his hands, “I didn’t realize getting into a woman’s undergarments would be quite this easy--” ------------------------- Title TBD (TNA Valentine’s Day: First vs. Last... this is in the Once...Always... Universe, and I just couldn’t get it finished before Valentine’s day. So! It will be coming out on another random holiday lol)

Reaching for the doorbell, she catches her reflection in the apartment number brass plate. And panics.

Oh, God! I--he can’t see me like this!

It has been nine months since Brynn caught her husband cheating on her with their daughter Olivia’s nanny. With the story hitting every gossip column and news channel, multiple women came forward with their private trysts with Sam over the years; however, most of their stories will never be heard thanks to the family’s heavy payouts for their silence.

Sam and Brynn’s divorce was finalized five months ago, two days before baby Charlotte was born.  Despite the scandal, his lies and his betrayal, Brynn wars with her feelings towards Sam.  He was the love of her life; even though he broke his vows, she never dreamed of going back on her own. He made his choice; he didn’t want to be with her the moment he chose to have his extramarital affairs. But, everyday life without him by her side is awful, like living a horrible nightmare. Her heart flutters around him, missing him terribly, but her brain begs her to stop.

Brynn pinches her cheeks to life as she swipes on a rosy color of gloss on her pout. She finger combs her almond tresses into a low ponytail, ensuring the wayward wisps are hidden.

The door suddenly opens, catching Brynn by surprise.

“Mommy!” A curly-chestnut hair Olivia dashes to Brynn with open arms.

“My baby girl!” Instantaneously, she welcomes her oldest daughter into her arms, pulling her up onto her hip for a sweet hug and tender kiss. “Did you have fun with Daddy?”

“Uh-huh,” she beams, “Look what I made you!”  As she pulls out a bright pink homemade Valentine, Sam steps around the door with baby Charlotte in his arms.

“Princess--” he whispers in a deep, syrupy voice, “what do you say?”

“Oh, yeah!” her chocolate brown eyes brighten to her mom, “Happy ‘Valentime’s’ day, Mommy!”

“Happy Valentine’s day, baby girl!” Brynn squeezes Olivia into a tight embrace while she presses her lips into her cheeks. “C’mon, let’s get your things.”  

As Brynn glances back at Sam, the wind is abruptly knocked out of her chest as she sees him dressed handsomely in her favorite Armani slate gray suit with soft petal-pink accents. Her eyes stay glued to him as he fastens a sleepy Charlotte into her carrier.  As he stands back up, she notices his tie is crooked.

“May I?” Brynn steps forward, motioning towards his tie.

“Please,” he chuckles, “I miss your meticulous eye--”

They both awkwardly flinch at his words, Brynn focusing on the knot around his neck as Sam clears his throat.

“So--” he attempts to change subjects, “any special plans tonight?”

“Mason and Mickey are out with friends, so it’s just the girls, me, and--”

“Be My Valentine, Charlie Brown,” he interrupts as he flashes an alluring dark look at his ex-wife. He begins to run the back of his fingers sensually down her arms. “Some things don’t change--”

“But--” she glowers at him, tightening his tie close to his neck, “a lot of things have.”

--------------------

[queenmylovely]

Okay okay okay i have a blurb request - reader and rog are chilling out and shes like playing with his hair and discovers *dun dun dun* a grey hair and has to talk roger down from a midlife crisis or whatever lmao

I was a little worried I wouldn’t be able to turn this into smut other than the usual “I’ll show you I'm not old” railing (which I love) but never fear, cause I’m actually very happy with where this ended up. Thank you babe for a great prompt and for being my smut muse as always 

warnings are smut (18+), cussing, and it’s 1.9k 

☆☆☆

As much as Roger thought he could always go go go, there were days that he preferred to hang out at your place the whole day. These days were usually after a big concert, several long days in the studio, or a big party. This time it was a party. To be more specific, Freddie had thrown a Hanukkah party. Even though he wasn’t Jewish and to your knowledge knew almost nothing about the holiday, he argued that it was only fair to throw a Hanukkah party if he was going to throw a Christmas one.

His decorations were blue and white with giant menorahs and dreidels. As well as the usual food, there was latkes, his chef’s interpretation of sufganiyot doughnuts, and gelt everywhere. Freddie had also made sure that all the food was kosher compliant, which you thought was good of him.

Somehow, this Hanukkah party had ended up even wilder than his typical ones, and Roger had paid the price. Normally, he would’ve made it over to yours around 1:00pm the day after a party, but this time he didn’t even come until a day later, though at 9:00am.

He brought with him coffee and muffins so you let him in with a smile instead of grumbling about how he woke you up. Then the day passed pretty much doing nothing. You lounged in your bed sharing breakfast until you were ready to get ready for the day, had a precarious and giggly romp with each other in the shower, made sandwiches and cut up fruit together in the kitchen for lunch, and finally sat on the couch half-watching Christmas movies as they came on the tv.

While you had both started sitting up, Roger had slowly leaned over onto you until eventually his head was resting in your lap. Because you knew it was what he wanted and because it gave your hands something to do, you started playing with his hair. At first, you did it mindlessly, just feeling your fingers comb through his soft hair. But when the movie switched to one that you had seen a million times before, you paid more attention.

Roger’s hair was shorter than it had been in years past, and while you liked how it looked now, you were a little sad that gone were the days of long, wavy, pretty hair. Still, it was long enough for you to braid little tiny braids into it, especially in the back and on top. That’s what you were doing now, giggling as his head became covered in one inch long braids. Roger didn’t seem to mind, but that was probably because it felt good and he was more than half asleep anyway.

You finally made it to the hair just above his temples, sectioning out the hair that was long enough to braid. That’s when you saw it, a single grey hair among all the bleached and natural blonde.

Before you could help it, you gasped and Roger immediately jerked awake.

“What? What’s wrong?” Roger asked quickly, though his voice was still filled with sleep.

“Oh nothing, nothing’s wrong,” you claimed hurriedly.

“Then why did you gasp like that?”

“It was just the tv, very exciting part.”

He looked at the tv, “One, you’ve seen this thousands of times. Two, this is not an exciting part, nor has there been an exciting part for the last five minutes. So what is it?”

“Well, it’s just that-- I just,” you tried to stall but Roger gave you a look. “... I found a grey hair on your head.”

Roger shot up, both hands going to his head, “What the fuck, no you didn’t!”

“I did,” you grimaced. Then touched his arm, “But it’s okay, it was just the one.”

“No, if there’s one, there’s got to be more!” Roger said, trying to run his fingers through his hair but having trouble. “What the fuck did you do to my hair?”

You had to cover your mouth to keep yourself from bursting out laughing, but when he still looked at you for an answer, you had to reply through laughs, “They’re just little braids.”

“Arghh! Help me!” Roger demanded because as dexterous as his hands usually were, they apparently weren’t very good at undoing braids.

“Here, here, let me,” you said, batting his hands away with a few final giggles. You moved so you were kneeling beside him on the couch so you could reach his hair. It only took a couple minutes to do, during which you could see Roger frowning deeply. You thought about telling him he shouldn’t so he didn’t get frown lines but decided that probably wouldn’t help in the current situation.

“There you go,” you said, sitting back on your heels, smoothing his hair away from his face a final time.

He was still pouting so you thought for a second before speaking again.

“You know, Rog, 31 seems like a very reasonable age to start getting grey hairs. Some people get them in their twenties.”

Roger just looked at his hands.

So you tried a different approach, “And you know, I think you’d look pretty hot with grey hair.”

As you spoke, you placed your hand on Roger’s wrist and he looked up at you, raising his eyebrows.

“Really?”

“Yeah, you’d look sophisticated and confident,” you took a slow breath in. “Like you’re totally in control.”

Roger watched you closely, feeling how the energy in the room was shifting. Then he grabbed the hand that was on his wrist, pulling you closer until you got the idea and slung a leg over so you were straddling him.

“In control of what?” he asked, lowering his gaze ever so slightly towards you and lifting a finger to brush along your jawline.

“Whatever you want,” you almost whispered, waiting until he tilted your chin up before you moved closer and kissed him.

He kissed you back, but kept it slow and controlled. Keeping one hand right on your jaw, Roger moved the other to your waist to pull your body close to his. He pulled his thumb on your chin, parting your mouth enough for his tongue to run along the inside of your lower lip. You breathed in sharply and parted your mouth further, just hoping that he would deepen the kiss. To your great relief, he did and you sighed further into the kiss.

The hand that was on your waist started roaming, and whether it was to brush his thumb against your nipple, to splay his fingers across your ass and squeeze before landing a sharp spank, or to reach up and pull on your hair, every move caused a moan to be pulled from you.

You had fully lost yourself in the kiss when Roger’s hand crept in between the two of you, so his thumb pressing along your slit until it reached your clit made you gasp and pull away from the kiss for a second. His thumb rubbed you through your sweatpants and your brow furrowed as you focused on the feeling.

“Does that feel good?” Roger murmured, and when you looked at him there was a confident glint in his eyes that made you swallow thickly.

You nodded and Roger waited expectantly so you continued, “Yes, so good.”

“Good ‘cause that's what I wanted. To control your pleasure by giving you all of it,” his words and the way he was touching you made you shiver.

Suddenly, he pushed you to stand but he started pushing down your pants and underwear and you hurried to help. You tried to do the same with his, but he shook his head and stood up.

Roger motioned to the arm of the couch, “Lay back there.”

You did as he said, putting down a throw pillow first to cushion your back. You leaned back, legs in front of you and bent at the knee, your feet resting on the couch cushions. Roger laid down on the couch in front of you on his stomach. To fit he had to bend his knees too and so he crossed his ankles in the air. You thought it was cute but before you could say anything or laugh Roger licked right up your slit from your entrance to your clit.

There were no light kisses and licks to work you up to more; instead, he just latched his lips onto your clit and started sucking, your hips jumping up underneath him. So Roger used his left hand to press down on your hips and keep you from moving too much. His lips felt so good that you couldn’t resist tangling your fingers in his hair to keep him close.

After a minute, Roger lifted his head a little, but it was just to let some of his spit drip onto your pussy. It was kind of a strange feeling since there was so little pressure, but then his right hand came up between your thighs and as he got his first two fingers wet, you understood what it was for.

Roger pushed his fingers in together, going slow enough so you could adjust, but the stretch still made you groan quietly and open your legs wider. He thrusted them in and out of you two more times and the slight pain was gone, letting you appreciate the feeling of fullness his fingers gave you.

His tongue found its way back to your clit, circling it before pressing down on it with broad licks. Roger was searching for your g spot with his fingers and once he did, he started sucking your clit at the same time.

The feeling turned your moan into a cry of pleasure, “Ah, Roger!”

His only response was to hum against you, and the buzz of the vibrations made a bolt of pleasure run throughout your entire body. Roger kept up this routine, making you moan and whine and whimper and then rewarding you with a hum every time you did. It all became overwhelming when he added another finger, stretching you further and increasing the pressure and pleasure on your g spot.

“I’m-- fuck--”

“You’re close?” Roger asked to confirm.

“Yes, yeah, ohhhh--”

“Come,” he told you, returning his lips to your clit, fingering you deftly, and humming against you, stronger this time.

You had told him he was in control, and it was true because as soon as he did that, you were coming, your legs involuntarily wrapping around his head as the pleasure ran through you, leaving you moaning and breathless.

Roger kept going until you let your legs down, placing a kiss to the inside of your thigh before smiling up at you. You reached for him and he acquiesced, finding your lips and kissing you deeply as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

Breaking away from the kiss, you looked between you to his boner that was still present in his sweatpants, “Do you want me to suck you off?”

“That’d be nice,” Roger said nonchalantly, and you hit his shoulder lightly.

He got up, pushing down his sweatpants and briefs, kicking them to the side. You sat on the edge of the couch, figuring it’d be easiest to do with him standing and you sitting.

Placing your hands on the sides of his thighs, you looked up at him with only slight hesitation,“Do you-- can you control this too?”

Roger grinned.

★★★

[seijohsfairy]

you’ve been in love with kuroo tetsuro for years, silently supporting from the sidelines. it’s where you feel comfortable, felt- comfortable. so now that kuroo finds out you’re his most loyal fan?

.wordc. 9.5k tw manipulation, degradation!, corruption, bullying, dubcon/noncon, coercion, yandere kuroo, fingering, oral, Kuroo is on the world’s biggest ego trip

.author’s note. I finally finished this monster after struggling for so long ( ɵ̥̥ ˑ̫ ɵ̥̥) inspired by fanatic by @/jackrrabbit​. if you want to read an amazing bullying smut, it’s seriously perfection

+

An obsession. If someone asked, you’d never call it that. An appreciation of the sport maybe, or of the hard work and dedication of the players. But an obsession might’ve been more accurate, as you have been a fan for years now. At least you can admit it to yourself. Not a day goes by where you forget to think about volleyball, and more in particular, him. It’s not your fault it makes you so happy… It’s not at all, and yet—

You’re able to watch the young men through the open doors of the gym, the resounding bangs of spikes flattening against the polished floor filling the building. You huff out in the afternoon sun and hide under the sun-bleached, red parasol as best you can, before wiping a bead of sweat from your temple. Soon everyone will be pouring out of the classrooms, which brings a smile to your face. But for now, you spare another look inside the bright hall, following the red jerseys as they move swiftly around the court. The speed at which the balls connect with the floor have always impressed you, but your eyes are instead on the middle of the group, tracing the number one mindlessly.

“Senpai, are you alright?” your junior squeaks out. You flinch in surprise at her question, almost dropping the drink you’re holding in the process. Her short brown hair sticks to her face where a wide-eyed expression marks it, though a small, unsure smile stays in place. You quickly bring out a laugh though, waving off her concern.

“Oh, yeah! Sorry,” you put down the glass can and press your cool fingers to your forehead, smiling, “the heat just makes it hard to actually pay attention. Could you repeat that, please?”

“I’m just so glad you suggested this, s’all!” she beams, putting the last of the lemonade out on the table, each can in between ice packs. They’re already dripping, coming summertime close to unbearable. “My big brother always talks about the fanclub at home and that other teams don’t have a fanclub near as good as ours!” You smile at her while you pour chunks of ice into the white wine, putting it out too. The entire table is decorated with the team colors, flyers to one side, donation jar and cash register on the other, with all the drinks, ice pops and watermelon slices in the middle.

You even made all of the small, red cat charms that hang from the parasol yourself. A bit overkill perhaps, but no effort really feels big enough when you’re as dedicated to a team as you are, even if it’s embarrassing to say. But well… you’d do just about anything to support Nekoma and the man you’ve been crushing on for years now. While you peer up at the windows of the classrooms, mentally keeping track of just how much longer you’d have to wait for the rest of the fanclub to join you, you miss the proud look the younger girl sends your way. Yui, the libero’s younger sister, pulls her hair up in a tiny ponytail. “You must be so proud since you started it all by yourself.”

You look back down at her, flushing. “Of course I am proud of the fanclub, but I’m even more proud of our team. Y’know, I’ve been watching some of them since middle school and they all seem to enjoy it so much. It makes me want to support them in any way I can.” You’ve taken the requests of the team to heart to the best of your ability. Hopefully you can sell a lot, they’d really need new cleaning equipment and some of the shorts and jerseys could definitely be replaced with new ones.

“Of course Nekoma’s angel would say that,” a voice giggles, the black haired girl strolling up behind you. All the others walk close behind, right when the bell indicating the last class rings. The rest of the fanclub waves politely, many of the girls with their own healthy flush. “Make some space, Mrs. Kuroo, everyone will be getting out in a minute or so.” You give the other third-year a little poke in her side, looking down at the menu as you pick at the corner of the laminated sheet. It’s so silly, but the nickname makes you all warm inside. How nice it would be to actually be… well. You shouldn’t think so far ahead, or not ahead at all, since Kuroo Tetsuro has absolutely zero interest in you. The overflowing amount of love you have for him isn’t making up for anything.

“Don’t call me Mrs. Kuroo. It’s embarrassing,” you tell the raven-haired girl, glancing back inside the hall for just a moment to watch as said man gulps down his water, sweat drenching his hairline and dripping down his chin. “Even if I like it, he doesn’t know I exist.” Some of the girls coo at your admission, all of them at least aware that you’ve looked up to the Captain for years. Your friend sends you a knowing look, before cracking her fingers and getting to work on the cash register. She’s been trying to get you to say something for months, and with the last few weeks of high school growing closer and closer, you can’t even blame her.

But what would you even say to the guy you’ve crushed on for so long? After all, you’ve been in his class for three years now and he never once spoke to you directly either. He’d probably be creeped out by your dedication to him. Before you can think of any more, bunches of students start pouring out of the buildings, looking tired out by the day. When they see your stand, many of them light up, already taking out their wallets to get some cool lemonade. You clap your hands and look at the girls surrounding you, before nodding. “Alright, let’s do this! We’re going to sell everything out today. Yui, you get that side?” You turn to the first few customers and put on your best smile, handing them a menu. “Welcome to the Neko Outdoor Café! Would you like a drink?”

///

“Captain!” Yamamoto calls, pout more pronounced with each passing second. “Please let us take a break. Please.” He’s about to get on his knees and beg. “Come on, man. I need this.”

The raven haired man just lifts a brow in his direction, before turning his attention back to the bench so he can tie his shoelaces properly. “Shut up, you’re being noisy.” He doesn’t care to ask what the guy is on about, already more than annoyed at having to practice in this sweltering heat. Every movement feels slower than usual, it’s pissing him off.

“They’re going to sell out and leave, Captain!” the other tries again, tugging at the edge of Kuroo’s jersey like a child. In fact, he looks like he might burst into tears. The Captain ignores him.

“I’m sure they’re keeping some extras for us,” Yaku tries, smacking Lev’s hand away from his water bottle and downing the last of it.

Kenma hums. “You know they wouldn’t leave us with nothing, they’re all so thoughtful.” The setter is already trying to soothe a teary-eyed Yamamoto, while Kuroo straightens out to wipe himself down with a towel. “They probably have a whole pack of ice lollies stored away for after practice. Our cheer squad leader wouldn’t be caught dead forgetting about anyone.” At the mention of your name, the Captain frowns, the sound unfamiliar. “She even remembered to bring some mango for me last time, and I don’t even remember telling her I don’t like watermelon that much.”

“Who now?” Kuroo frowns. He pokes out his tongue to wet his lips, following his team’s gazes to outside the gym, where rows of students are lining up. He can just see the edge of a red table, curiosity peaked.

Kenma’s face blanks when he looks over at his long time friend. “The leader of the fanclub? She’s been to every one of our matches since like… eighth grade or something. How have you never noticed her?” Some of the boys turn to him in confusion too. Kuroo crosses his arms over his chest, before chewing on his answer. It’s not that he ignores anyone on purpose. But your name doesn’t ring a bell, neither does the description.

“Pretty sure she really likes you, too,” Lev suddenly says, getting up from his spot on the floor to bound closer to the door to watch past it. ��She always wears clothes with the number 1 and your name on it. She’s very nice, she bought me chocolate milk after our last game.” He stares out the door for a moment longer, before perking up and waving for his older teammates’ attention. “Ooh ooh, she has ice creams for us, she’s calling. Can we please take a break, Captain?”

Everyone turns to the third year. Even Kenma is giving him an unspoken question with his expression. “Fine, whatever,” Kuroo just sighs, giving into their antics. “But after that we’re getting back to spike training and you better all jump higher than I’ve ever seen you jump.”

While waiting in line, he asks to point you out. You’re busy smiling at every single student that comes by, colored shadow falling over you because of the sun shade that is just as red as the rest of the table. Just as red as your flushed face, and as red as the shirt that you’re wearing with his name on it. You look kind, with a childlike joy on your face, innocent in the way you beam out warmth. And after staring at you for a while, you do start to look a bit familiar. Huh. So this is what his biggest fan looks like. He’s not let down, not exactly, though he does wish that you’d focus less on the lemonade and more on him as he waits in line with the rest of the team. But it’s understandable, you’re just trying your best. Even he can see that.

Suddenly, you look up from the cash register, having been shoved in the side with an elbow by your friend and in the split second he catches your eyes, he can see several emotions flash in them. The last one before you look away is definitely wide-eyed mortification though. You look away from him and turn to your friend, whispering something in her ear as your cheeks grow red-hot. You blank at her answer, before biting your lip. It’s strange, but something in the things you do are cute to him. How you nervously toy with the edge of your shirt. How you try to keep your eyes on the ground but glance back every so often anyway. How you put on a smile. You must really, truly like him. And he can’t say he doesn’t like at least that. That innocent expression on your face is to die for. Really.

After a minute or so, you seem to gather your wits and look up to walk from behind the stall. “Guys, you don’t have to wait in line. Come up here,” you wave them over, not looking at him at all. Somehow, this only makes him giddier, wanting to see you flush even harder. Maybe you’d pass out if he talked to you. Maybe you’d cry. Would you even be able to handle it if he got any closer? The smirk that clings to his lips is one of ego-filled happiness, he can’t help himself. Something about you makes him feel like he’d be able to break you with the slightest of pressure, and though he’s never quite wanted to control someone like that, he can’t say it doesn’t feel exhilarating.

Everyone moves out of the one line to skip to the front, as you busy yourself by glancing under the tables to pull out an extra cooler, opening it swiftly. That way your skirt pulls up insanely high, though you try to keep it down with one hand. Oblivious to what you’re doing, surely. His cute, little fan. He’ll have to give you a lesson on proper manners, but not now. All in due time. When everyone starts thanking you, you just rub your neck, straightening back up.

“How much are they?” Kenma asks, “I’ll pay. Is it alright if I get the money to you after practice though?”

“No, no!” you beam, “they’re free for you guys! I could hardly let our own team pay for some stupid ice pops and lemonade.” You don’t hesitate to smile at Kenma. Kuroo holds his tongue from breaking into your conversation for now, instead taking one of the watermelon slices and biting into it. You seem to sink into yourself a bit when he turns back in your direction, almost as if you’re trying to disappear into the background entirely. Would be hard though, with that bright a shirt. “We also have wine if the adults want any,” you continue, shooting Kai and Yaku a guilty glance then and trailing off. “Though that might not be a good idea if you’re still practicing.”

You still have yet to look back at him, creating a void of something in the pit of his stomach. Why don’t you want to look at him as much as he wants to look at you? “Are there any strawberry pops?” Lev asks, probably aimed at you but Kuroo’s already taking a step towards you before you can answer.

This way you’re not able to ignore him any longer. Your eyes are so big and stunned when you glance up at him, tilting your head back just so you can look him in the face. There you are, he thinks. You pull a lip into your mouth, cheeks burning with color. Your chest heaving up and down, heart clearly pounding so hard he swears he can hear it. And Kuroo is living for it, the thrill of making you so affected by his presence undeniable. He wants to be the one to make you so flustered, wants to be the one to taint it too. He does know that’s probably not normal, but it’s so tempting. He smiles down at you, watching when your lips tremble softly. Cute. He softly calls out your name, grinning wider when you seem to mellow for a moment at the sound. “Did you do all this yourself?” he asks, enjoying the starstruck expression on your face.

You have to take a moment to get yourself back on track, clearly. Understandable. “Mhm,” you manage though, looking anywhere but him again when you realize you’re staring. “W-Well, everyone helped plan it, of course. I just made everything they planned out.”

“Yeah?” His smirk has yet to leave his face, but if it could grow any wider, now would be the time. You give a shy nod, looking back up at him for a moment. “The lemonade looks good. The watermelon’s good too.”

You’re practically glowing at his compliment, taking a step back to roll yourself back and forth on the balls of your feet. He wants to place his hands on your shoulders to keep you still, but really, you might just faint if he does so he holds himself back. “T-thank you s-so much! I’m glad you like it. I hope you’ll be able to use the funds well, but if you ever need anything else, you can always ask me,” you lift your shoulder and smile at him for just a moment, blush still raging on your face. You blank then, quickly adding, “or any of the other girls! We’re all here to support you, so… p-please keep working hard and doing your best a bit longer!” You’re stuttering like crazy too. He’ll have to work that out of you.

Before he can say anything else, someone calls for your name, so you quickly bow and rush back to your spot behind the stall. The girls giggle and poke at you, some of them hardly subtle in their whispering and cooing. And Kuroo smiles, because he might have just found something new to peak his interest.

///

You couldn’t have known. Not really. You couldn’t have known the full extent of his anger and definitely not how it would turn on you. So why does it feel like you made a horrible mistake? As you are sweeping the last of the hall, you hear the familiar, resounding echo of volleyballs smacking against the smooth surface. It’s a sound that’s long grown near and dear to your heart. Still, you put the brush to the side to make your way to the gym door where it stands swung open. It’s a Friday. The Nekoma team doesn’t play volleyball after school hours on Fridays. You frown as you peek around the cold, metal door into the otherwise vacant hall. As the class representative this term, you’re basically expected to be the last one here.

The man causing the constant butterflies in your stomach is facing away from you, frustration seeming to radiate off him in angry, black swirls as he throws balls against the wall, making continuous tosses to himself. You wait for a moment longer, glancing back into the school building as you debate your options. Though you were unable to watch the end of practice, you saw the beginning. Kuroo was anything but the collected player he normally is, the sight of it making your heart ache. Very hesitantly, you knock your knuckles against the metal. You rather wouldn’t be putting yourself in his proximity by choice, last time enough to make you so flushed and flustered you were stumbling all over your words.

Still though, you just want to help him. Maybe you could make him feel just a bit better. “Kuroo-san?” you try softly when he doesn’t react. He catches the ball at your call, pausing for a second. Then he turns to you. A shadow on his face, tall shape seeming to loom over you even from afar. You dig your nails into your own palms at the sharp glare that’s sent your way, his eyes flicking over your entire body, coming to rest back on your face. He doesn’t say anything, so you try to gather your courage and clear your voice, taking a step into the gym. “I- Sorry, I heard you still practicing. Are you- I mean- I don’t want to assume or anything, b-but- you don’t normally practice on Friday.”

The brief flicker of courage you had soon sinks deep within the pit of your chest as the silence continues. He bounces the ball on the floor once before catching it again, lifting one of his brows. Still with that gleam in his eyes, the one set off by the darkness cast around him. Then he sighs, and in a second his smile is plastered back on. The smile you’ve grown so used to seeing from afar, but it doesn’t feel quite right. It certainly doesn’t reach his eyes. It looks a bit off too, lopsided like he’s trying to convince himself to keep it up. “You— Ah, you’re the… fan club girl,” he nods. He tosses the ball up a few times, seemingly thinking, before he clicks his tongue. His deep voice resonates through the empty hall. “Yeah, sorry if I’m bothering you. I wanted to get some more practice in.”

You wring your hands into the front of your shirt, mindlessly bunching it up in between your fingers. When his eyes are back on you, you have to fight yourself from taking a step back. “No, you’re not bothering me at all, I don’t expect any less from our team Captain.” You swallow. Then, barely louder than the thumping of your heartbeat against your ribs, a thought tumbles out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. “Would you like me to help you practice for a bit?” It’s a little thing, so small, and you’ve done it for Lev and Kenma plenty of times. But your hands shake when you ask.

Kuroo’s eyebrows pull tightly together, his expression looking so off-putting even when you normally think everything about him is beautiful. You think he’s perfect, even drenched entirely in sweat and with grooves dug deep under his eyes, exhausted to the bone, so why? Why does he glare at you this way, and how can you make your heart stop wavering in your chest? You briefly stand there to think about what you just said, trying to figure out exactly what you did wrong to make him feel even more shitty, but come up blank. He must have misread your tone of voice, or maybe you had a dumb expression on your face. Just some stupid mistake you made. That’s the only explanation you have why amazing, gorgeous, perfect star player Kuroo is acting the way he is.

“Do you even know anything about volleyball? You don’t look like you do.” The sharp comment feels like a slap to the face, and you take in a little breath as you attempt to rid the unsettling tension between you two. Maybe soothing him isn’t the way to go, but you know Kuroo makes himself feel better with practice and that is something you can do. For him, you could for hours.

“I— I can… serve alright,” you hesitate, looking from his face to his shoes instead. “I know a l-lot about volleyball and though I- I might not be the best, I’d still help, right?” His sharp eyes are still on you like an accusation, and no, no, no, this is all wrong but you don’t know how to fix it.

“Aah,” Kuroo coos then, chuckling to himself as he passes the ball your way, “you want to help me.” You barely catch it, clutching it close to your chest as he motions you closer with his hand. “O‘course you do.” With sheepish steps you make your way toward him because he asked, staying an arm’s length away for your own poor heart. Last time you were this close to Kuroo, all you could do was give some mindless encouragement, even though you were trying. You just couldn’t help get flustered back then. A cold shiver makes its way up your spine though, and you fight the pressing feeling to run. This is your favorite person in the world you’re looking at, and you’d do anything for him. You would, really. “Because you’re my fan, aren’t you?” he echoes your thoughts, and you bob your head in reply.

Your voice is barely above a whisper now, throat closing up when he leans in as if to inspect you more thoroughly. “Yes, of course, Kuroo-san. I’ve been a fan since I first saw you play a match back in middle school.” You wince at your honesty. Don’t tell him that, your mind screams, but it’s too late. All you can do is bite your lip to keep more from tumbling out.

“Yeah, yeah, so I heard.” He gleams, petting your hair and you try to keep your elation to a minimum, because his eyes are still just as sharp as they were when you first walked in, but butterflies flutter in your stomach. His fingers linger for a moment, the weight of his hand making your heart jump. It’s gone soon enough. “You in my class?” You nod eagerly, but while you do he’s already speaking again. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you? You’re my biggest fan, huh?” He’s leaning closer again, closer, too close, almost like he’s going to kiss you and you might sink through the floor if he gets any closer.

You try not to let the faint smell of his cologne overwhelm you, his face flushed at the edges of his cheeks because of the exertion. You open your mouth to figure out a response again, but Kuroo is faster. “You come to each match, hoping I’d notice you, right? Begging for my attention like a little kid, wearing my name on your body like that. Don’t you feel embarrassed?”

It takes your brain a while to unfilter the words, playing and replaying them now that you take a step back. “Aren’t you embarrassed to be so obsessed with me? Such a cute, little fangirl, just begging for a look your way?” No. It’s not like that, you are not like that. You’re not obsessed, you just care a lot about him. About the entire team. “Pretending to be into volleyball so you can talk to me, right? Do you talk to Yaku’s sister so you can get to me? Do you talk to Kenma so you can get to me too?” You want him to stop talking, why is he still talking? Why is he acting this way at all?

“N-No, it’s not like that,” you bring out, flushing when his hand wraps around your one shoulder to keep you from backing away from him. He straightens out to his full height, towering above you and as you follow his tall body up to his expression, you hate how he is smiling. A loathing, off-centered smile that gleams on his handsome face. The feeling to run grows so strong in your mind that for a moment you can barely ignore it. There’s something wrong. But of course you remain, you just want to make him feel better. “It’s not like that at all. They are my friends. I love volleyball.”

“You love me, Y/N-chan?” he asks then, dark eyes glazing over.

“I— I’m your biggest fan,” you settle on responding. Wouldn’t it be too much to admit you love him, even if you do? He doesn’t seem to take it, looking down at you with thinly veiled irritation now. The fingers on your shoulder tighten, though you’re too distracted to notice. “I mean- Of course I… love… you, but not in an obsessed way! I just have a lot of respect for how hard you work,” you drawl out, throat closing up when the gleam on Kuroo’s face seems to drop in favor of something softer. Something like admiration. You used to love how he would wear his emotions on his face, but now it’s too much. He’s still not satisfied, you can see it. “And I’d do anything to make you feel better so-”

“Hah. Aren’t you just incredibly sweet,” he sighs, finally letting go of your shoulder. You can feel the weight of it long after it’s gone, warmth trailing down your limbs tentatively. You’re so glad you let out a trembling puff of relief. He takes a deep breath, before he smiles again. Softer, familiar, and your heart slowly comes back to life. This is how it’s meant to go, this is how you always imagined it as Kuroo leans down to brush a strand of hair away from your face back behind your ear, sweet and tender. Hair that you keep longer than you’d want because you know Kuroo likes it that way. You’re sure your stress of earlier was showing on your face, cheeks burning for attention. “You’re so pretty like this, my little fangirl. Mine.”

You don’t miss the drop in his voice, a possessive tone that seems misplaced. As he brushes a knuckle past your cheekbone, tingles pool in your belly. “I’ve had a really tough day today, you have no idea. But I’m glad you’re here now. I think I do know how to fix my shitty mood, actually!” He takes your hands in his then, enveloping them with soft traces of his fingers. He pulls you toward the side of the gym, dragging you behind him. Kuroo Tetsuro is holding your hands. It feels too quick, sprung on you so suddenly it makes your head spin, but they are just so warm around yours like you hoped they’d be. The dark-haired man looks back over his shoulder. “You said you will help me, right?”

“Mhm,” you smile, watching him, how his shoulders move under the red volley jersey and his hair waves softly with each step. And he’s still holding your hand. This must be a dream. You’re on a mindless path until he walks you past the lockers and the damp feeling of the shower air hit your face. That’s when you slow your feet and pull against him a little, blinking out of your daze to glance to the side. Kuroo turns to face you. “Hey, this is the boys’ room.” Your obvious statement makes him chuckle, one hand coming up to cup your cheeks and though it’s insanely overwhelming, you don’t have the heart to pull back. He squishes your cheeks together until your lips turn into a cute, little pout.

“You’ve never been in a boys’ locker room, sweet thing? You’re just that good, huh?” Kuroo stares you down with his pretty, golden eyes while you fail to answer. Isn’t being good supposed to be a positive thing? But he says it like it’s something dirty, like you’re not quite right and you can’t help the sinking feeling that fills you to the brim. He pushes the door to your side into lock, the loud clang making your heart race. When he turns back to you, the darkness in his face is what scares you most.

Cats don’t eat cats, do they—

He doesn’t hesitate to grab you by the shoulder and shoves you up against the lockers, your back connecting with the cold metal sharply. You wince, his hand still around your cheeks. It’s so much bigger than you, you realize, he’s so much bigger than you. That never scared you before, but now you’re painfully aware of the looming shape and the way he’s able to look down at you like this. You swallow and keep his golden gaze. But he releases his hold on your face to hold the back of your neck, long fingers splayed across the soft skin, before leaning down so far into you, you can feel the tremble of his breath on your face. “Would you like me to kiss you?”

Your eyes are wide, unbelieving. Of course you do, but… You wait for what feels like a lifetime, his warmth too close to you. You can’t say no, can you? So you nod and drop your shoulders, eyes fluttering closed. If he were to kiss you all those uncomfortable feelings swirling inside would surely vanish. Kuroo hovers his lips over yours, you can feel them so close, but no more than that. And he chuckles, tilting your head to the side with two fingers instead. “No. You don’t deserve it yet. Don’t you think you have to work a bit harder for it? I know you’re good at that.”

He walks toward you until you’re fully pinned to the cold locker in between his legs, as he connects his lips with your neck. His lips are so hot, like steaming coals on you, and you can’t help but grab onto his bicep for support. It flexes under your touch. He kisses down your throat and jaw, lips dragging trails of kisses and tongue carving paths down to your collarbones and to the edge of your shirt.

And you’re so overwhelmed that the person you’ve loved for so long is actually touching you, that you don’t notice how tight his grip is wrapped around your neck, fingertips pressing ovals into the expanse. “You just wanted this the whole time, huh,” he coos, voice sickly sweet. But when he looks up at you from under those lashes, the gold in his eyes has the sharpness of a blade, daring you to reply. You shudder when his hand drops down to drag your shirt up. “Bet you’ve had so many guys hoping that one of them would feel and taste like me.” He unceremoniously shoves it up from your body, over your shoulders. You look to the side where it drops to the floor, your school uniform a crumpled mess.

“Kuroo-san,” you bring out, self consciously wrapping your arms around yourself to cover up. You don’t like this. You don’t like him telling you that you’ve had people just to prepare for him, don’t like him eating up the sight of you like you’re a piece of meat and you definitely don’t like how he presses his thigh in between your legs to pin you up to the locker. “W-what are you doing?”

He huffs in amusement, tangling his fingers into the hair at the top of your neck to tug back your gaze towards his. “You can drop the politeness, silly girl,” he says again, letting go to brush softer circles into your skull. His lips brush over yours as you stand there, trembling, unsure what to do. How can you say no to him if he’s here, so close, with you for the first time in ever? He taps his fingers on your hands to make you release your hold on yourself, which you do with a bit more coaching. Maybe you just think this is going way too fast because it is him. The boy that offers his friends water before drinking himself, the one with the loud laugh that rings through the halls and makes your heart thump. The guy you’ve been head over heels with. That one.

This is okay, you say to yourself, calm down. His other hand traces along the bottom of your bra as soon as you drop your arms to the side, slipping a finger under just enough to lift it from your skin and you shiver. “You gonna take this off for me?” he asks, rubbing his thigh in between yours more. You can’t answer because you’re dropping your head back against the locker, overwhelmed and unsure still, with the lack of oxygen getting to you all you can do is let out a little whimper. You don’t know a lot about this, you’re sure he does. The hand around your neck drops so he can flip your skirt up, chuckling at your cute panties. You look down in embarrassment and attempt to shove the plaid fabric back down over your thighs but then he lets out a growl, holding it in place. “You wear my name on your body like my personal whore. Don’t play too shy to follow through.”

His long fingers trace over the edges of the panties, where you take deep breaths to calm down. You can’t help but push your waist down on his muscular leg for some friction, looking to the side when he chuckles. “You really are a little slut.” This time you shake your head though, pouting at him.

“I’m not, Kuroo.”

“Liar,” he breathes, pressing his nose to the crook of your neck. “You act like a well-mannered princess but we both know you want to be put in your place.” Not waiting up for a response, he lifts you by your thighs up higher, so he can bury his face into your covered chest, dragging his tongue over the one cup. You can feel the wetness of his tongue seep through the lacy fabric onto your skin. It’s warm and uncomfortable, his breath cooling your skin down instantly. “If you’re not going to take it off, I will,” he gleams, looking up to check your expression again. Ever so slowly he starts pushing the fabric up, not bothering to unhook the piece of clothing. Instead he toys with brushing over your pointed nipples, kissing up your sternum. His eyes flick to yours continuously, like he’s making a show of undressing you. He licks his lips, leaning towards you again.

“Kuroo,” you manage to mumble, resting your one hand on his shoulder to push him away from you. You stumble when you land back on your feet, looking down at the floor. Burning heat covers your entire face, from your cheeks up to your ears. It’s physically painful to be so near him, and the tight grip on your thighs isn’t helping. Your heart is pitter pattering so hard it might break through your ribcage. Despite how much you dreamed about falling in love with him, it wasn’t like this. “I don’t think this is a good idea. I have to lock up the halls and go home.” Your friend’s voice rings through your head then, something about bad guys and the way they prey on kind girls like you, creating cold goosebumps along your arms again. Kuroo Tetsuro can’t be one of those guys, you’ve looked up to him for so long. If he is, what would you even do? “I want to—”

“Don’t lie,” he interrupts, glaring up at your disapproval, “don’t ruin this for me.” Without hesitation he locks his mouth onto your exposed skin, rubbing his knee against your covered center, hard. It sends a spike of heat down your body. You breathe out at the rough laving of his tongue, only soothing after he sucked and bit the tender skin. His one hand reaches up to pull down your panties from under your skirt as soon as you’re closing your eyes, and though you open your mouth to stop him he shuts you up by pinching your thigh sharply between his long fingers. “I told you to stop lying to me. Whatever comes out of that pretty mouth next best be the truth.” He trails his digits up and down a few times, the slightest soothing to your anxiety.

“I… I just don’t—” you swallow, looking away from his eyes to focus on the shine of the lights. They make your eyes burn, but at least you don’t have to undergo his vicious glare this way. It really feels like he despises you for even breathing in his direction, though then why would he be kneeled in front of you. The conflict makes you nauseous, more insecure than you’ve ever been around him and your throat closes up a bit. When his stroking stills, you push through the words anyway. “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

He laughs. A warm, bubbly sound against your thigh. “No one’s ever stuffed you with their fingers before?” He looks gleeful, nuzzling your hip in a too-intimate gesture. You’re his fan, but he barely knows anything about you. You slowly shake your head, cheeks warming. His hands start moving again as he shuffles closer between your thighs so his mouth is level with your chest. As he eyes you up and down, he giggles to himself. “Did my slutty fan get herself off on the thought of me? D’you beg for me when coming around your useless, little fingers?” You bite your lip, eyes flicking down at him when he calls your name. “I’m waiting for an answer~”

“I don’t—,” you bite out, flustered and feeling small. He must hear the edge in your voice. With a quick flick of his wrist, he brings his down on your thigh, pinching you hard for good measure. You yelp and grab hold of his head to steady yourself, before quickly pulling your hand away again. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“Wanna try again?” he mumbles though, trailing two fingers up and down the crotch of your panties. It feels warm, and really good, but you’re still cold to the touch. Is this really okay? You doubt it. When he starts licking at the edge of your panties you shudder, letting your weight fall into the sturdy locker for support. “Hm, d’you get off to me?”

You pull your bottom lip into your mouth. You might have touched yourself down there once or twice, but in your imagination that was always long after he’d gotten to know you. In your imagination he was gentle, caring. Nothing like the impatient trailing of his fingers, like he can’t wait to play a game you never agreed to. At his golden gaze, you let the truth spill. “Sometimes,” you breathe, immediately hiding your face in your own shoulder from embarrassment.

“That’s what I thought, dumb girl.” He pushes your panties unceremoniously to the side to collect the slick there, grinning. You didn’t even notice you were getting wet while trying not to anger him. He doesn’t waste time taking advantage of this fact though. He spreads your bottom lips open with his fingers, looking up at you easily. His deep voice feels loud in the pressing silence of the abandoned gym, and you can’t help but wonder how much trouble you’d get in if anyone found you here. “Listen, brat,” he calls, pushing his lips to the top of your thigh to bite the plush skin. You jerk away from him with a cry, but he doesn’t let up.

“I’m gonna push my fingers inside that filthy cunny of yours, stretch out your little hole so you can actually fit something in there. ‘Cause I know you’re a good girl, so you’re probably gonna go braindead if I fuck you like this.” He chuckles at your hitched breathing. You can’t even begin to understand. The person you love more than life itself wants to fuck you? Well, his fingers are still playing down there, slowly pushing into you and they are thick, much thicker than yours. You can’t believe it. Kuroo Tetsuro wants to fuck you, in the boys locker room of the school gym while you should be long on your way out by now. No, you can’t. But you don’t find the words to speak up under his gaze, not wanting to disappoint him. If he notices your mental struggle, he doesn’t show it. “Then you’re gonna help me out like you promised by sucking my cock, right?”

You freeze up. You did say you’d help him, you said that didn’t you… But you didn’t know it would be like this, if you did you would’ve said ‘no’. You curse yourself for saying anything at all, trying to calm your heart as best as you can. You’re feeling so overwhelmed. By his touch, his presence, the situation, the stress put on your poor, frazzled brain. When two of his digits are halfway inside you, you let out a whimper. That’s at least three of your own, you already feel spread so thin. Your fingers find purchase in his soft, raven hair, needing anything to cling to. “Say, ‘Yes, Tetsuro’,” he coos, pressing a row of kisses over the front of your panties, chuckling at the little bow. But the sweet tone is taken away as soon as it comes. “Say it.”

“Y-Yes… Tetsuro.” He hums happily, shoving his fingers inside you in one swift move until his palm is against your center. Your legs almost give out at the feeling. “Ah- ah! S’too much, Kuroo.”

The raven haired man grins at that, curling his digits inside you and pulling them out just as quickly. Like striking a match. You reach up your hand to bite into it, hoping to contain your sounds. Your slick sounds ring through the empty locker room as Kuroo slides them back in and out at a punishing pace. “My dumb, pretty baby really is clueless, huh,” he sighs, long fingers sliding under your knee to place it instead on his shoulder.  It only debases you even more, struggling to stay upright as he brings his face in between your legs. When you whimper in embarrassment, calling his name, he scoffs. “You should let me play this how I want to, since you clearly don’t know anything.”

The curl of his long fingers brushing up against the soft, spongy part of your walls makes your brain numb. His words hurt. You don’t want them to, you wish they didn’t. “My dumb slut,” he hisses, before the harsh lines of his mouth are buried between your thighs. His tongue sweeps out to deliver a long swipe from his pumping fingers to the top of your slit, before swirling around the nub making you tremble. Your belly tenses, coil in the pit of your stomach growing irritatingly tight as he grinds his face against your pussy, obscenely slurping at the wetness. Your fingers twitch in his fluffy hair, attempting to comb through it best you can as your eyes flutter closed.

“Kuroo, ‘m close. Really close.” You can barely raise your voice enough to make it be heard over his motions, though he looks up at the call of his name. “I want to cum,” you say, “please.” He doesn’t still his fingers, but the twitch in his brows seems to indicate disaster, and you quickly bite your lip to think. “C-Can I?”

“D’you think this is about you, Y/N-chan?” He grins at your blown out expression, relishing in the wide eyes and bobbing lip. He uses his thumb to continue putting pressure on your clit, as he tuts his lips. “I’ll decide if or when you cum, because you’re mine. And when I decide to stuff this cunt you best consider yourself lucky, baby, that my cock is breaking open your perfect, little body.”

“Y-yes, but—” you bring out, ignoring the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You can’t hold it if his fingers only speed up their devouring of your body, mouth wrapping around you to suck hard.

“Don’t cum yet,” he mumbles, going so hard it’s making your vision sway. His tongue and mouth go harder, despite his order. And with mindless pleas you come around his fingers, shutting your eyes tight at the white splotches. Legs flexing and fingers tightening in his hair. You let your head drop as he works you through the feeling, until you’re pushing him off from overstimulation. Your cheeks feel akin to a forest fire when you open your eyes to his huff, tracing the lines of the hardwood floor under your feet. When he pulls his fingers out of you, you can feel some of the slick drip down your thighs and you instantly burn brighter.

But you don’t get to think about it, because Kuroo is straightening up before you, back to his overwhelming posture above you. He stares at you for a moment, before he leans in. Out of instinct, you lean back, away from his face when he wipes it. The glint in his eyes is a scorch mark on your sanity, his face so close to yours. “Can’t you listen to what I say, or are you just that cockhungry and stupid?” Your head is shaking side to side before you can stop it, hoping that you’ll be released soon. But you said you’d help him and if you don’t, Kuroo might hate you. You don’t think you could handle that. Rejection would’ve been better, after all. “Get on your knees and make it up to me.”

You choke back a sob at the order, looking up at him with big eyes again. You don’t want to, you don’t want to sit on the cold floor of the locker room where teenage boys drag their sweaty bodies— Kuroo seems to soften slightly at your expression, lowering his palm to your crown to pat your head, gently brushing over your temple. “You’re my biggest fan, aren’t you?” The low rumble of his voice right next to your face, his warm body so close and the curl of his pretty lips, everything makes you so docile. Dreamlike. “You’re really helping me so much,” he coos, and before you know it his mouth is on yours. His mouth… is on yours. And he tastes like you, and he’s kissing you. You freeze, not stopping him as he grabs your hands and loops them around his neck, his own picking you up to melt into an embrace.

Like two lovers in a painting, he claims your mouth with his tongue and curls your feeble body into him. So strong, with hard lines of his body that make your heart swell under your ribs. His hand on your thigh, the other on your neck, he kisses you and you think the stars might be exploding around you. He pulls back for a moment enough to breathe, before peppering another few kisses on your agape lips until you could turn black and blue from the bruising weight of your adoration. Kuroo brushes your hair away as you look at him, chest heaving against his each swell of your lungs. He starts peeling his lanky body away from you. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought that you were my biggest fan, but if you don’t—”

“No, I am!” you squeak, grabbing onto his jersey to keep his warmth close.

The noirette gives a faint smile, shaking his head. You don’t stop to question him acting so different from before, since your greedy brain clings to every word. “It’s okay,” he mumbles, “I’m used to being taken advantage of by girls.” His eyes shift to the side, lips dropping into a downturn. “They tell me how much they care about me so that I’ll have them, then leave me. I know my teammates are always the favorites anyway. So I understand that you don’t want to do anything more, it’s okay.”

“No Tetsuro, I want to, I swear!” you blurt out, grabbing his large hand despite the jitters in your system. He gives you a slight raise of his eyebrow. “I want to— s-suck you off.”

He chuckles, gaining back some of the brightness to his eyes. “You can’t even say it without stuttering.” The hand on your neck slides to your shoulder, slowly pushing you toward the ground. You hesitate for another moment, before dropping to your knees when the pressure becomes too heavy. When you’re eye level with his shorts, you swallow, bringing up your hands. The fabric is pulled taunt, showing off your effect on him. Ever so slowly, you pull the elastic of the red shorts down, taking his boxers with them in the process. You push them down until his hard cock is freed, curving up towards his belly and twitching with anticipation. Kuroo just bites his lip when you look up at him. “Give it your best shot, baby.”

He’s hot and heavy in your hand, tip glistening with precum. You slowly start moving your hand down his length, but you’re clearly not going fast enough because his hand is back in your hair, yanking you closer to his dick this time. He presses the tip to your lips, and you whimper out as you open your mouth. He’s quick to grab hold of himself to push inside, too quick and stretching you painfully. He’s big and wide and you immediately know you’ll ache once this is done. But as he starts working himself deeper, your eyes fluttering at the feeling and focusing on not choking, he makes pretty grunts that you tell yourself make this worth it. He reaches the back of your throat with plenty to spare, and you bring your hand up to hold yourself on his thigh. It stings.

But he doesn’t stop, even when you whimper around him and push at his leg. “Take it all the way,” he grunts, cocking his head back. The noises you make only make him more vocal, but you’re fighting through the feeling of panic in your chest. Each time he pulls back more saliva messes up your face, keeping Kuroo’s attention on the pretty way you take him. “You think you deserve my attention? My dumb, useless little bitch wants my approval?” He grunts when he hits the back of your throat again. “Because if you can’t even take my cock in your mouth without drooling all over yourself, I don’t think you do deserve it.” He slows his hips when you make a throaty sound, fingers tangled tight in your hair as he pushes in until your nose is pressed to his skin, before letting you back. You gasp for air when you’re finally let up, holding a sob that threatens to crawl out of your throat.

“Kuroo, I can’t,” you bring out, wiping your fingers under your eyes to get rid of any tears, but he doesn’t let go. Your voice is already raspy, grating against your tender throat.

“Yes you can, you’re doing well.” He pushes his cock back to your lips and though you’re more prepared for it this time you’re still shocked by how big he feels. Spit seeps out along the edges of your mouth, tongue being pushed down and your lungs struggling. He moves your head up and down his cock over and over, barely leaving you enough time to take a couple deep breaths. He slowly starts fucking your face when the tears spill over your cheeks and clump your lashes, hissing when you gag on him. “That’s how you suck a cock, idiot. Can’t do anything right without my help, can you?” His words just make you cry more. He bruises your throat until you can’t take any more, pulling out of his grip despite the pain and falling back onto your butt.

“Kuroo,” you cry out, losing control over your own tears. Your voice sounds double, like it’s been split in two. “I don’t like this.” A little squeak falls from your lips, airways painful and ragged. “I want—,” this time you can’t hold back the sob, “I want you to be nice to me.” You sound so pitiful, even to your own ears. You’re crying. But the man you’ve looked up to for so long is calling you all these names, making you feel so dumb. Are you really that dumb for liking him, supporting him, being his fan? “I don’t wanna do any more.” Tears are flowing, wet and warm down your cheeks and neck. Stop, stop crying. You reach a hand up to smear them away, but in their place new ones still come. “Please, I wanna go home.”

“Shh, shhhh,” he hushes, petting the top of your head like you’re a well-behaving pup, and you hate how you lean into it. The idea of yourself makes you sick to your stomach. Why are you even letting him walk all over you like this? Is this really the amount of self respect you have? Kuroo peers down at you between his legs. “You’re doing so well for me. You’re the best fan I could ask for. I’m sure you can take a bit more.”

“No,” you squeak when he reaches for your face again, “it hurts and I don’t like it.”

Kuroo stills. Regards you with a long, drawn-out breath, before humming in what you pray is understanding. “Alright,” he helps you up from the floor, steadying you in his arms and moving you both to one of the benches instead. “I wouldn’t want to hurt my number one fan, would I?” He sits down on the bench first, pulling you to sit on his thighs facing him. You wipe the mess of tears and saliva away as best you can, watching as Kuroo slides you closer to him without a care in the world. And you want to be mad, you want to push off him and do anything other than sit here and take it, but you can’t. You can’t, because you’re weak. You can’t, because you’re an idiot fangirl, and he’s been everything you’ve wanted since you were thirteen.

“Push your legs together,” he orders, squishing your thighs and reaching down to slip his cock in between them. He fucks your legs with the last of his restraint, pace from fast to punishing, kneading the doughy expanse between his fingers and pressing his forehead to your shoulder. You can feel the warmth of his breath, the shudder down his spine and the tensing of his legs below you, but you don’t process it. Everything feels far away. And then he calls out your name, and cums on your thighs, spilling white all over your panties and skin. He kisses your neck, and your lips after that. And you just stare at the tiles of the boys room showers before he slides you off of him.

Your legs tremble. He quickly uses a towel to clean himself up before tucking himself back in, and smiles down at you. “Thank you so much, baby, that was perfect.” He leans down to press a kiss to your temple as he hands you the towel. “Clean up?” The fluffy towel with the red cat embroidered on it is stained with the cum you clean off yourself, as tears roll down your face. You loved him so much, but now you just hate him. Embarrassed, hurt, useless. Kuroo’s bright face as he talks is another slap in yours. “Lighten up, I’ll lock up the gym for you, okay?” He smiles when you lift your eyes to his figure in the doorway, your crumpled skirt bunched in your hand. “And don’t even worry about it, I’ll walk you home. It’s the least I could do for my fan.”

It is the least he could do.

You nod and put up your most convincing smile.

///

thank you so so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed. did this have to be so long? probably not. did i make it that long anyway? yes. mean kuroo will live rent free in my brain for the coming six months.

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Day 1: “You took all the pillows so i’m using you as one.”

It is herrrreee!!! I hope you enjoy and let me know all your thoughts.

Non-descript, non-canon-compliant AU

Jason Grace smiles as he ends the call with his sister, promising her he’ll call before she gets on her flight to another obscure place. One would think after an entire year of living, mostly, alone she wouldn’t be so worried, yet each time she goes off she has to send him a hundred messages and call him a hundred more times to make sure he’s okay. The day is dawning bright and chilly and he has every intention of snuggling up in his bed with a good book and copious amounts of hot cocoa. University has finally shut down for winter which means he has absolutely nothing to do. It is pure bliss.

He hops onto the counter, scrolling through his phone while the kettle boils. His instagram is filled with people in various tropical places, or places much colder than his little London apartment. Snow and skis, and beaches and cocktails scatter across his feed and he is equal parts jealous and excited. The kettle clicks and he sets to making his chocolatey drink, adding an obscene amount of marshmallows and some extra chocolate chips just for fun. Might as well indulge. Tomorrow he would have to make an effort to dress in something more than a ratty t-shirt and fading boxers, and interact with other people. The few of them that are still here are planning a holiday movie night complete with blanket forts and popcorn and terrible romance plots. But today, with the sky grey and weeping gently, and the world as quiet as he’s ever heard it he can just be unexciting, unworried Jason.

He launches himself onto the bed, after carefully placing his mug on the side table and snuggles deep into his duvets, sighing contentedly. There is almost nothing that could make this better. Except one person. But he has no energy to dwell on that. Because that person is gone to Montauk with their family and even if they weren’t they wouldn’t be here with him.  He shakes the thoughts from his head and opens his book, ready to get lost in a world far away from this one. But just as he starts reading, a knock sounds at his door. Every bone in his body groans, like the worst thing that could have happened to them has just occurred. He agrees wholly and debates ignoring the unexpected visitor. But then he thinks about his elderly neighbour who’s always losing her keys or needing help with something on the top shelf and he sighs as he resigns himself to getting up. His book, and heart, cry when he tumbles out of bed and slips his feet into fluffy pink slippers. The knocking sounds again and he all but rolls his eyes, before flinging open the door.

As he expects Mrs Tremblay is on the other side, a kind smile on her face. “Hello Jason dear,”

“Hello Mrs Tremblay, how are you?”

“Oh just peachy dear. My wife isn’t home yet and I can't seem to locate the butter. Would you mind coming to have a look. I am sorry to be a bother on such a day that requires everything but bothering.”

He holds in a snort and closes his door behind him, “No worries ma’am. I’m happy to help.”

“Yes, well you’re very kind dear. The last tenant who lived there was a rowdy unfriendly man who smelled disgustingly of bleach and cigarette smoke.” Her nose scunches so that the wrinkles in her face deepen considerably.

He doesn’t give a response, mostly because he doesn’t really know how to reply, so instead he ushers her into her apartment and makes his way to the kitchen. After a quick squiz in the fridge he sees the butter all the way at the back of the top shelf. Getting it out, he places it on the counter with a smile.

“Here you are Mrs Tremblay.”

“Oh you are a darling! I’ll be sure to save some snickerdoodles for you.” She claps her hands, already pulling her apron over her head.

“Is there anything else you need me to help with?”

“That’s alright dear.” Distracted with her scale she waves his question away, “You’ll see yourself out, won't you?”

“Sure ma’am, have a good day.” He waves. She doesn't catch it. “Say hi to Precious for me.”

“Bye now.” Is her distant reply before she’s scaling chunks of butter and losing herself to her baking.

With a huffed laugh he escapes back to his own apartment and settles into his bed once more. This time he does get swooped into his book, travelling over mountains and sleeping in rocky valleys. Every word produces a new kind of feeling, like he is a well of all the most wonderful emotions. Sometime later, and a good portion of the book gone, he drains the last of his now-cold cocoa and decides it’s time for a bathroom break. As he finishes up another knock sounds at his door. Must be Mrs Tremblay with the cookies she’d promised.

He jogs to the door, pulling a hoodie over his head, as the wind seeps in through the cracked windows. He opens the door and the hood flops over his face.

“Mrs Tremblay, the snickers finished already?” He fiddles with the fabric and pushes his now messy hair out of his eyes.

“Uh- I did not bring cookies?” A voice that Jason hears in his dreams washes over him.

He freezes, blue eyes as wide as planets, as he takes in who stands at his front door. “You’re not Mrs Tremblay.” He blurts out.

A twinkle enters those emerald eyes, a smirk slowly takes over that beautiful, angular face. “I am not. As far as I know i’m still Percy Jackson.”

“Yes you are.” He replies breathlessly, and then cringes so hard he sees black dancing in his vision. That smirk only grows wider. “Please come in.”

“Thanks. It’s freezing out there. I’m sure all the nerves in my fingers have burned to nothing.”

“What are you doing here? I thought you were in Montauk? Is everything okay with your family? With you? Here let me take your jacket.” He eases the dark denim from his friend’s hands and slings it over the chair in their little dining room.

Percy laughs at all his questions, "Everything is fine with everyone. Paul has family in Brighton, and I asked mom if I could visit you while we’re here.”

“Oh.”

That twinkle only brightens as they make their way to his room. “Yes oh.” He winks, and then sobers as he takes in the rumpled sheets on Jason’s bed. “Am I interrupting something? I can totally come back another day. We’re here for two weeks so…”

The blonde’s cheeks go crimson as he realises what his friend thought was going on. “No, no, no. I was just reading. I’ve been in bed, uh, all day.”

Percy’s eyebrows touch his hairline in surprise. “You? You’ve been in bed all day?”

He blushes harder but nods all the same. “It’s cold and I have a book. I finally have the time to read.”

A brown hand reaches up to touch his forehead, “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? The Jason Grace I know would have had his morning run, started on assignments due in two months time and volunteered to go grocery shopping for all his neighbours.”

He makes a face, shoving the black-haired boy, “I’m not such a goody-two-shoes.”

A laugh as pretty and devastating as the ocean echoes through his body. “Alright Jase,” He collapses onto the bed, waggling his dark eyebrows. “If you say so.”

“I do say so.”

That laugh catches between his butterflies and the whole world slows down. He stares at his friend, who looks so completely at home that his heart clenches a little. Black hair a stark contrast against his white covers, and earth brown skin glowing under the yellow light above their heads. He takes a deep breath in.

“Do you want to finish your book and then we can talk?” Percy asks, eyes still stuck on the ceiling, tracing the constellation of stars stuck up there.

And with that question Jason melts into the floor and thanks the powers that be that he has found home.

“If you don’t mind?” He moves to lie on the bed, already snatching up the book and paging through it to find his way.

Percy scoffs, “Of course i don’t mind.” He shuffles, eyes darting around before a gleam enters them. He promptly moves further up, and places his head on Jason’s stomach.

“What- what are you doing?”

“You took all the pillows so i’m using you as one.”

And indeed the two pillows that are usually on the bed are shoved behind his back, for the extra comfort. “Oh, uh, okay.”

“Are you uncomfortable? Should I move somewhere else?”

“No, no!” He cries, ‘I’m fine.” Even though his heart is beating a hundred miles a minute and the butterflies in his stomach had been released into a zoo.

A beautiful smile takes over Percy’s face as he settles into his pillow and closes his eyes. Jason reminds himself to breathe, as he stares at the serene face right under his nose.

“Are you going to keep staring at me or actually read Grace?” His friend’s lips twitch but those ocean eyes stay closed.

“Shut up.” He grumbles, wondering how he knew.

“Make me.”

His golden cheeks go bright red, again, and he is grateful the black-haired boy is still closed to the world. Finally his heart calms enough, and his mind goes quiet and he can get lost in his book. Percy’s soft, unhurried breathing deepens as he drifts to sleep, and Jason follows not long after. They are content. They are peaceful. They are happy.

They wake up as they had gone to sleep: Percy’s head resting against his stomach, and him propped up on pillows. Jason’s eyes open first and after he glances out the window to see the grey sky darkening he takes the quiet moment to stare, unobstructed at the boy before him. Long eyelashes brush sharp cheekbones, and a strong nose, slightly skewed from being broken one too many times, twitches. He really is one of the most beautiful people.

“Are you still staring at me?” A raspy, playful voice rings out.

The blonde about has a heart attack right there. “You’re awake?”

“Just barely.” He groans, pulling himself up, and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Jason almost groans at the loss of contact but stifles it under a laugh. “You wanna make some cocoa and we can tell each other secrets?”

“I only have one secret,” Percy winks, hauling himself off the bed and holding out a hand for him.

He takes it, but is unprepared to be launched halfway to the sun, or to topple into a hard chest. The black-haired boy catches him before they fall to the floor, and every nerve in his body narrows to the warm hands on his hips.

“What’s your secret?” He whispers.

“Take a wild guess.”

He narrows his eyes, racking his brain for any ideas, but every thought is discarded because all of them involve something he knows is impossible.

“Got nothing?” He grins.

“Not a clue.” Disappointment floods through him fast and sharp.

“My mother secretly calls me pineapples.” His friend mutters and in the second it takes him to process the words the black-haired boy is already shaking. His forehead presses into the blonde’s shoulder as he laughs and he can’t help but join in; the absurdity of the statement breaks his confusion, and disappointment.

Finally they sober up and Percy, whose hands are still on him, stares directly into his eyes. “I lied. I have one more secret.”

“Oh?”

And then Percy Jackson smiles as bright as the stars and kisses Jason Grace. What a lovely secret indeed.

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Tags:

@nishlicious-01​