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tteokdoroki · 4 months

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VOICEMAILS AND DIAL TONES - yuuta okkotsu.

✩ — about. “back then, you didn’t have words to describe the way that he made you feel. maybe, you were a little too young to understand.” there are rules to a friendship that’s lasted as long as yours and yuuta’s has. the first being that you tell each other everything. the second, try not to fall in love. all you know, is that you’ve failed at both, and now your best friend is half way across the world without any idea as to how much you truly love him. is that something you can say over text or voicemail? ( 8.7K )

✩ — warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, with a happy ending - video banner! characters are in their 20s. coffee-shop!au, childhood friends to lovers, forbidden romance, long-distance, misunderstandings, miscommunication, situationships, arguments, hospitalisation mentions, death mentions (non-major characters), cucking, somnophilia, praise, fingering (f!receiving), oral sex (f!receiving), phone sex-ish, clothed sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation, creampies, fem!reader.

✩ — things to note. hi everyone!! jumping on the yuuta hype and dropping this fic i wrote as a commission last year!! it's so interesting to see how much my writing has changed, but i remember having fun when writng this. either who!! i hope you all enjoy <3 - m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊ ⊹

absence makes the heart grow fonder — at least that’s what they tell you so that the feeling of missing someone hurts a tiny little bit less.

you’ve always wondered if that were true. if willingly putting space between yourself and the person you loved truly helped soothe the soreness as if it were medication for the body’s aches and pains. perhaps the theory could best be applied to your friendship with yuuta okkotsu.

he’s been your best friend for as long as you can remember — from the moment he moved in next door, his bambi eyes were big and brown, safe and inviting…who were you to keep hiding behind your mothers leg and deny him an invitation to play on the swing set his parents had put up for him in the garden just over the fence? yuuta was the sweetest boy to date, he was always polite with your parents and asked their permission before taking you into the depths of his cardboard fort in the front yard.

he would walk home with you from pre-k, your chubby little fingers tightly intertwined and the matching charms on your backpacks swinging about the place jingling with every step you took towards home. when you got to middle school and kids were meaner, yuuta stood by your side while you were teased for being quieter than most. he defended you, his shy, patient best friend.

okkotsu still walked you home, his pinky finger hooked over yours — greeted your mother with that same shy, yet charming tight lipped smile and offered to help her with cooking dinner with that same airy voice of his. your mother would reward you both with a kiss to the forehead and a plate of warm walnut and chocolate chip cookies and your pinkies — still linked underneath the table.

you were always linked. it’s always been yuuta and you. back then, you didn’t have words to describe the way that he made you feel. maybe, you were a little too young to understand the butterflies in your tummy and the blistering temperature to the back of your neck and your ears — maybe too naive to understand a metaphorical doctor’s diagnosis of a case of early on-set puppy-love. knowing back then would’ve explained why you wrote yuuta’s name on a heart alongside your own or why you squirmed every time you touched.

there was only one explanation. you liked yuuta, loved him.

you wished that you’d known what that feeling was…because it's soon ripped from your grip and your whole world changes when rika orimoto enters your lives. she was pretty, had a beauty mark smeared daintily across her cheek and gentle eyes that made you feel safe. she was pretty and yuuta thought that too — inside and out. that’s why they became fast highschool sweethearts and why you were left in the dust.

rika easily made a mess of him, tearing yuuta into a million tiny pieces that only she could put back together. she asks him out on white-day, okkotsu a bumbling mess by the lockers in between gym class and economics as he clutches her neatly written love letter — hearts over the I’s and T’s crossed ever so cutely. she had done to yuuta what he’d been doing to you all of your lives and you’d hardly seen her talk to him around school until that day.

much to your dismay, they date throughout the rest of highschool and it nearly kills you, having someone that you were once so close to fade-away into near nothingness with growing distance. life where yuuta has a girlfriend ( that isn’t you ) drains the happiness that you got from being around your childhood best friend. it’s selfish, you know, to have wanted to keep him all to yourself. to have him want you instead of her.

they make plans for after school, babies with names that start with the same letters as theirs and a wedding that’ll be small and flowery and whatever rika wants because yuuta okkotsu would give the girl he loves the entire world. you so badly want to be her. that person who is the centre of his universe. it should be you, it should have always been you — making plans with yuuta and imagining the perfect ring, the one that he would give you in the front yard of his childhood home. it should be your life with him, one that you’d dreamt up with him…and the sick thing is, you can’t have him — because you’re best friends and you’d be risking it all in the name of childish love.

rika, dies just days shy of your highschool graduation and it changes your best friend. a tragic car accident violently takes her life and okkotsu along with it. he’s a shell of the person he used to be, void of his dazzling smile and the comforting warmth that was unavoidable if you spent even just a minute with him. yuuta used to be like sun rays on a sunday morning but after the incident, he felt like blizzards on a dark november's eve. he lost his love, and you were starting to lose him even more than before.

his first love is memorialised at the graduation ceremony and while everyone sends her their thoughts and prayers — you feel sick to your stomach, knowing that for a brief second you’d felt relieved that your competition was gone. loving him was forbidden, he’d just lost his person and so despite your guilt you had to stick it out. be there for him. be there for your friend above all else and hold him up so that he didn’t sink in the deep water of his own grief. you’d save him, at all costs, you’d stop him before he drowned.

things start to look up when the pair of you head to college — you both get into the same school and find the cutest little off-campus apartment to share. it feels like a home away from home to you both, since your nights before semester begins are spent attempting to master your mother’s famous cookies while practising how to introduce yourselves since you’re both nervous as hell for this new beginning. everything feels like it was when you were both children and didn’t have a single thing to worry about — except now there’s crippling student debt and a four year workload ahead of you…but you’re both excited, together again and it seems like the distance between you has shrunk just a little.

then your love life takes a turn for the worst ( yet again ) and yuuta finds himself running around town with a new crew of friends that he met in a club run by one of your elective professors, satoru gojo. they stay out later than you’re used to and your best friend comes home smelling different too, of strong perfumes and cigarette butts even though you know he doesn’t smoke. as it turns out, there’s another girl.

maki zenin.

you don’t like her, and to be fair, she doesn’t like you either. so you keep your distance once more, keep your head down when maki does her faux walk of shame out of your best friend’s room — her thighs and her neck covered in bite marks and scratches, his shirt slipped over her body to cover the rest of her decency. he made her breakfast with your food and tea in your designated mug. it hurts to hear her mewl the sweet syllables of his name late at night while you’re stuck with the soundtrack to your own sobs.

it should be like this, distant — far apart because you care about okkotsu and you love him, so it’d be better to avoid it all rather than get him hurt.

your phone ringing in the distance gently lulls you from your reminiscent thoughts and you scramble to pick it up before you end up with a missed call.

yuuta’s contact flashes across your screen, framed by light and making him look like an angel. it rings and rings, and you know that you should let it go to voicemail. let the space between you grow so you can protect what’s left of his soul.

but you were never strong when it came to him.

and you pick up before he can listen to another second of dial tones.

voicemail #1 - “hey yuuta, i hope you’re good, you’ll never guess who stopped by the cafe today— professor satoru! i haven’t seen him since your graduation! anyways, are you still coming over for dinner tonight? i miss you!”

this isn’t like him.

even after all these years, from pre-k to college — yuuta okkotsu has never missed one of your calls. after graduating you'd made a promise to one another, to keep contact no matter where life took you, a promise of his own volition. you’d have dinner with each other at least once a week just like when you were kids and catch up on your not-so crazy adventures into adulthood.

you kept up your end of the bargain as your way of keeping okkotsu afloat — to ground him. he’d seen and been through enough hurt to last him a lifetime and if he had to use you as a crutch for comfort, despite your raging feelings for him, then so be it. so you never missed a call, always checked in and made him something nostalgic and tied to the memories of afternoons where your mother would fill you up with her wondrous baked goods or heartwarming soups.

but still, this isn’t like yuuta to not pick up when you call.

to feel…more distant than usual and of his own accord.

panic sets in while you listen to the third dial tone, trying to contact him again. taking a deep breath, you pace around the fridge-freezer in the back of your bakery — one that you’d set up shortly after graduating from your business degree. there had to be some explanation for your best friend’s absence. perhaps traffic? maybe he was on the subway catching a ride over? or maybe he just needed space. he’d been going through a lot recently. yuuta didn’t get a job straight out of college and he broke things off with maki shortly after — they wanted different things and had different aspirations.

even still, with the free time left on his hands, there was too much room for him to think about his losses and his loves…it made you worry for him, it made you panic and chew on your nails just like this. “c’mon yu,” you whisper to yourself, the shaky syllables of your words bouncing off the metal house for your ingredients, muffled by paper bags of powdered sugar and organic flours. “where are you?”

you can barely hear the automated message telling you to leave a voicemail for your friend over the bustling of your afternoon service. if yuuta hadn’t been off the grid, he’d be here helping you with the customers that know him all too well, the old ladies that pinch his cheeks and the younger ones that twirl their hair in an attempt to flirt over miniature cherry bakewell tarts. except he’s nowhere to be found, and you’re nauseous, worried sick about where he could be and what he could be up to.

you try his cell one more time in an attempt to grab at his attention. there's something weird about today...as if he’s avoiding you, hiding. yuuta always picks up and you always pick up for him, it’s an unspoken rule.

when you’re met with the dial tones again, you hang up — slumped and distraught. there’s hungry customers to feed and you’re overly friendly college professor waiting on a fresh box of sweets you’d used as an excuse to escape to the back of your shop. yuuta can wait for another call from you.

but you’re not sure if your heart can wait for one back from him.

voicemail #2 - “it’s yuuta, we need to talk.”

oddly enough, silence is comforting to you. it reminds you of your best friend, the nights you’d spend coupled up in your dorm with your fingers running through his silken midnight hair, his head in your lap and the both of you shrouded in darkness. more often than not, you could tell how one another’s days went just by body language and when shoulders were slumped and eyes were droopy — yourself and yuuta would curl up together and just…take in the quiet.

be close to one another.

so, you bask in the tranquillity of your quaint little cafe as you clear up after a day's work. you sweep floors, wipe tables clean and arrange the tables and chairs with perfect precision. the only sound that accompanies you is the clink of silverware and porcelain plates as you wash the dishes. it’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop and the slightest noise is enough to make you jump — just like your phone that vibrates deep within your back pocket, startling you as you scramble to dry your hands so you can see if it’s him who’s been trying to get in touch with you.

it’s embarrassing how quick you are to smile when you see a few missed calls and a voice message from yuuta. though you’ve never quite heard the tune of seriousness that plays in his voice before, your heart won’t stop racing at the mere sound of him speaking. your mind wonders…what could be so urgent that he’d need a ‘talk’?’

maybe it was a thank you…for always being beside him or maybe he even liked you. perhaps okkotsu had finally come to his senses and realised how much he’d always needed you…how much he loved you.. the racing thoughts in your brain hopefully jump towards a confession from your best friend and you find yourself getting giddy at its prospect. you practically skip, hop and jump to the back of your cafe, switching out your flour stained clothes for one of the spare and cleaner shirts you keep in the back — you touch up your makeup too, brighten the dark circles under your eyes and blot your worry lines with care.

you even manage to heat up a few of yuuta’s favourite pastries to serve up by candlelight — rehearsing your own words of confession as if they haven’t been looming around in your head for years.

the bell to your quaint little cafe chimes with his arrival, a rush of cool, late night air tangling with the temperate atmosphere as you lay your finishing touches on the meal you’d prepared for you both. when you look up, yuuta’s eyes have settled on you — warm and inviting as usual, but bright with a light that had been missing from them since you were young. you’ve missed it, the subtle spark that brings life to the coffee brown oasis in his eyes.

he remains as handsome as ever, taller than you by however many heads — limbs long, arms slightly muscular and waist slender, though his build is more like a dancer’s. yuuta okkotsu grew up to be a fine man and you’d be a fool to have not noticed. he crosses the room in short strides, rushing to take you into his arms and hold you close and squeeze you to his chest. yuuta smells like cookies, you note, hardly paying attention while his lips softly brush over your hairline in a sweet kiss.

“hi,” he whispers, voice smooth like melted chocolate dripping through your ears. “i’ve missed you.”

you only hope that he can’t hear your racing heartbeat, it’s speed picking up as you decide that this is your moment. the moment. “i’ve missed you too,” you mumble back, toying with a loose string on the cream cashmere the dark brunette is wearing. “yuuta…i have to tell you something—“

“i-i have something important to tell you,” he breathes out at the same time as you do, almost shy as you both sway in the centre of the room and enjoy one another’s embrace.

the both of you share a laugh that’s light and airy before you drag him over to a table and set of chairs, forcing him to sit and to eat the baked goods you’d set out for him. “you first, yuu,” it makes you happy to see him tuck in, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “you owe me a story after disappearing on me today.”

okkotsu nods in agreement, his cheeks adorably full of food and pastry flaked across his milky skin. “‘m sorry, i was sortin’ something out la’sht minute.”

“yeah?”

“y-yeah! i’m moving,” yuuta drops the bomb like it’s nothing. “abroad. for a job! professor gojo set me up and it’s s-supposed to help build my confidence and stuff—“

your world falls apart in an instant, sucking away the oxygen in your lungs until you feel like your lungs are failing. yuuta is leaving you and this time it’s for real.

confessing to him now wouldn't mean shit, you’d only be holding him back. your face crumples faster than you can control at the thought and after years of knowing you— okkotsu instantly picks up your change in mood.

“what’s wrong?” he says your name and even that hurts to hear.

“n-nothin’ yuu, i’m happy for you, really.” comes your broken voice over the quiet, you fake it until you make it.

“really? you don’t look like it.”

running a hand over your tired face, you force a smile. “really. especially if you think this is what’s best for you.”

“it is!” yuuta nearly snaps, controlling himself— stopping himself from yelling at you and tearing your friendship apart before he’s gone. “i need this, need’a be my own person. after college, after highschool i didn’t have time for any of that! i need this.”

needs it more than he needs you.

“okay.” you say simply, blankly.

“okay.” he says back.

the debate doesn’t last that much longer after that — the room fills with silence as you grieve your faltering friendship. whatever confession you had planned, now forgotten.

voicemail #3 - “yuuta! i wasn’t sure how long your flight was but please call me when you land! you’re gonna do great at your new job.”

yuuta doesn’t call after he lands, in fact two entire days pass before you actually hear from him. after the argument, you’d try to stay on good terms as though not to lose him for good — helping him pack and sort out his currencies, buying him language books since you knew he would struggle with the new dialect.

you figure it’s because he’s unpacking and not because he doesn’t want anything to do with you — and while you make some late night tea, you find that it’s better to imagine him alone in a new foreign country, picture his pretty pink lips struggling to form the vowels of the new language too, envision how he’ll tan under the blistering hot heat and how excited he’ll be to try new things.

its humiliating how easily he can preoccupy your thoughts from thousands of miles away and makes your heart race so fast that it might burst through the bones and flesh of your chest. he occupies your every thought like a fungus crawling across your brain that’s only disrupted by the sound of your phone ringing loudly — making you drop your tea and jump up to answer.

“hey,” the way yuuta says your name sends tingles down your spine — filtering out any pain you feel from burning your hand. he looks good too, dark hair flopping over his eyes, voice gravelly with sleep as if he’s just woken up and you’re the first thing on his mind. “i got your message, s-sorry for not calling i’ve been—“

you cut him off, eager to speak and draw the call out for as long as possible because you missed him. “busy? a guy like you must be extremely popular on the other side of the world.” you’re chipper in an attempt to cover how flustered you are and to cheer your best friend up when you notice how nervous he looks.

“not exactly… i’m nervous. e-everything seems so big ‘nd scary without you here…”

without you.

you shake your head over the grainy FaceTime call. “you’ve always done fine without me, you’ll do even better without having to cover for my shyness!” he laughs at that, the sound like a sweet song to soothe your aching heart. “you got this yuuta.”

your best friend gives you a sleepy smile, one that melts you like a knob of butter on a hot stove and has your knees knocking. “you’re the best, you know that? you always know what to say.”

the static crackles between you and your heart leaps into your throat.

“i’m always here for you, yuuta.”

“and i’m glad for that,” he yawns. “i love you.”

you have to remind yourself that what your best friend says is strictly platonic but you almost selfishly repeat the words back to yuuta until you notice he’s fallen back asleep.

ending the call, you clutch your phone and burned hand to your chest.

“i love you too.”

voicemail #4 - “hey sorry i missed your call, time zones can be crazy! work has been catching up with me and, well, i made a new friend!”

for the first week, you and yuuta text everyday while he’s away. you do your duty and act as his crutch like you always have— keeping him company while he works, eats and commutes all on his own. you feel bad that you lap up the attention he gives you over the phone through his loneliness. you could be compared to a desperately hungry stray animal at the way you drink up every little interaction you have. giving pieces of yourself away to keep your best friend happy.

but as time goes on, okkotsu seems less and less worried about his job — easily slipping into the language here and there, no longer relying on you to stand on his own two feet. the frequency of your communication dwindles to the point where you really feel like you’re oceans apart.

even yuuta notices the change within himself — the confidence that filters through him when he says yes to the pretty girl who works in the cubicle next to him when she asks him to tag along for drinks with the rest of the office one night which soon becomes a regular thing. he knows that he speaks less with you and that your texts are barely there but he’s sure you won’t mind the distance. you’re a busy girl, you run a cafe, a few days of not talking wouldn’t do any harm.

“oooh, she’s pretty. who is that?”

kasumi miwa is the one to pull yuuta out from the fog of his thoughts. the brunette looks up from his phone, your face flashing across it’s lock screen as the background. a photo where you have your arms wrapped around him from behind and your smile is as bright as the sunshine. miwa is a pretty girl, different from you. her voice is smoother and eloquent where yours is charming and sweet — she doesn’t remind him of home, or smell like the warmth of a chocolate chip cookie…but she is pretty. her presence is enough to make him shy.

he’s caught her looking a few times, her touch lingering whenever miwa passed him paperwork and right now; her cheeks are tinged pink probably from the alcohol the office is drinking inside where yuuta had come out for some fresh air.

okkotsu clicks his phone shut and stands up at full height to face his blue-haired coworker. “i… i haven’t spoken to her in a while. i miss her.” he says wistfully as he gives your name

“well, if i were dating a girl that pretty, i would miss them too.”

“o-oh! we’re not together! she’s my best friend!”

the woman beside yuuta cocks her head, a satisfied grin spreading across the slope of her lips. “you should call her — i’ll be waiting inside.”

he follows her eyes as she walks off, along with the whiff of her chanel perfume, before his gaze lands on his phone — he calls your phone.

you answer after the second ring, though don’t speak straight away, letting the silence wear the both of you thin. “how’ve you been?” you say quietly, lacking the chipperness to your tone that you usually have whenever the two of you ring each other up. there’s no hello, no warmth, you’re cold.

but yuuta doesn’t ask — he’d like to think he knows you well enough not to. he thinks that you’re fine, probably tired from work and it’s late over there too. if he cared to catch up with you, he’d have been more considerate of that.

“good!” the brunette chirps in order to keep the mood light, leaning over a nearby railing. i miss you. yuuta wants to add, but the words feel like cotton in his mouth, sticking unpleasantly to every surface and for some reason they don’t feel right to say— feel foreign. “work’s been good. i think i’m getting the hang of things around here. my co-workers are great, i get this amazing view every morning a-and—“

“and?”

“i met someone! i think! i wanna get to know her more but she’s been great to me so far…you’d like her!”

hearts don’t make a sound when they break, but if they did— you’re sure that yuuta would have been able to hear yours even from halfway across the globe. over his own ramblings he can hardly make out the shatter of your vital organ as it falls to pieces, cracks into tiny shards with jagged edges that could make you bleed if you tried to put it back together…because your best friend having met someone means he’s moving on. leaving you behind. and he’s too tone deaf to notice.

through the static of a phone call, okkotsu misses the crumple of your face and the way your throat bobs as you swallow back salty tears and two decades worth of unrequited love. you’re devastated and he can’t even tell, barely noticing the way you rush off the phone while he’s halfway through a sentence.

his brows furrow when he realises you’ve hung up.

“i take it that didn’t go well?” kasumi questions when yuuta re-renters the bar, her face sympathetic but voice elevated with smugness.

he shakes his head once. “no, but it’s okay. she’s been busy.”

he excuses you but kasumi doesn’t let up, pushing for more of yuuta — breaking him out from his shell, stealing and keeping the pearl of his heart for her taking. “don’t be too sad yuuta, you have me and your new friends, we’ll keep you company instead.”

there’s a hidden meaning behind her cherry picked words. she’ll keep him company — and for once, yuuta doesn’t feel guilty for trying to break away from you.

voicemail #5 - “what happened between us yuuta? you used to tell me everything and now you’ve got a girlfriend? i didn’t even find out through you!”

there’s an unspoken rule to a friendship that’s lasted as long as yours and yuuta’s – you’re supposed to tell each other everything. there’s not been a secret between you in all the years you’ve known each other except for minor white lies that couldn’t amount to major forms of harm. he might have told you that your hair looked fine on days where you’d barely any time to tend to it and you might have told him that he hadn’t been awkward presenting in front of your entire college class… but those were worthless lies. strings of words tied together that didn’t mean anything, that didn’t have any intent to harm.

there were no secrets, no major ones.

until now.

“he’s got a girlfriend, yanno…”

the news is shared with you casually from over the counter one day by your irritating white-haired ex-professor who makes a habit of annoying his old students. he comes in for sweets often and the daifuku you make is his favourite – you offer him extra in exchange for updates on the classmates you used to share since he’s nosey like that.

with every visit to your little cafe, gojo filled you in on everything yuuta had been up to in the blurred weeks and months since you’d last spoken – including his relationship status. “she’s pretty too, long hair. s’blue which is an odd colour, but she’s been good to him, ‘pparently. boosted his confidence.”’ the man cocks his head, watching in real-time as your movements in packing up his order slow down.

your throat bobs whilst you swallow your fading pride in front of your teacher, forcing down a wave of tears. it doesn’t matter how many times yuuta gets over you, moves on from you, finds someone to love other than you… it still hurts. it’ll always hurt knowing that he can fill the other half of his heart with someone that isn't you, while your own stays void and empty.

as always, satoru gojo sees right through your resolve as you total up his order – again forgoing charging him extra for the little tid bit of gossip he’d given you. there’s a shell of someone he doesn’t recognise in place of the girl he used to teach – the one who was once full of life and eager to learn, get out into the world and achieve your dreams. yuuta okkotsu had chipped away at you, the years you’d spent protecting his feelings had caused you to drown in your own.

and gojo could see that, he knew that. he’d been through it before.

he only wishes he had better words of comfort for you.

“you love him, don’t you?” he asks you quietly as you ring him up but you answer with his total in yen instead – sniffling as you do. professor gojo takes his brown paper bag, full of enough sugar to make the heart stop – to kill a person, but even that’s a better death than the heartache you’re going through now. you sniff and he offers you a sad smile that doesn’t quite reach the sapphire eyes behind his shades. “better yet, don’t answer that. i don’t need anymore tears in my daifuku.”

voicemail #6 - “oh fuck yuuji, right there…” “here baby? oh you’re so cute, fuck ‘m gonna—!” “oh… yuuji!”

( incoming voicemail from - yuuta: “hey, call me back? who’s yuuji? are you okay?” )

yuuta knows that he shouldn’t have kept listening – he should have deleted the voicemail as soon as he caught onto what was happening. it didn’t take a genius to know what was going on, the sounds of skin slapping on skin, your voice wavering with the tune of lust even over the static crackle of the voicemail you’d left.

he wishes that he’d never heard you moan out like that for someone else, that he wasn’t picturing the faces you’d make underneath the body of another man…but he couldn’t help it. the more he listened, the angrier he felt, the more betrayal flooded his veins and clouded his usually clear judgement. the brunette had no right to be this mad at you, he was supposed to be happy with miwa, supposed to be letting you move on just like he had done from you.

and yet, like a necrotizing parasite – jealousy feasts at the back of okkotsu’s mind. it disrupts his work, distracts him from his girlfriend and fills his mind with flashing images of you being fucked five ways by another man. one that isn’t him. yuuji. who even is yuuji? how did you meet him? were you dating him? you hadn’t talked in so long so the guy had barely come up in conversation. you were best friends that used to tell each other everything and now he felt like you were fucking someone new behind his back. yuuta knew nothing of what that stranger meant to you, he had no idea that yuuji itadori was just some college boy you’d brought home one drunken night – to act as a salve for the burns your childhood best friend had left on you.

it's a temporary fix, yuuji’s tongue laps at your wounds – pleasures you with teeth and tongue until your head is light and you’re almost too dizzy to think properly. in the moment, he felt good, he took care of you…but he wasn’t who you wanted. he wasn’t yuuta.

was it bad that you basked in the jealous rage and attention the brunette had bathed you in? drowning you in a barrage of text messages the morning after you’d slept with itadori, when yuuta finally had the chance to listen to the voicemail you’d left by accident. it was the most you’d gotten out of him in the months you’d been separated.

yuuta - 7:16AM: hey…did you mean to send that? call me when you’re up.

yuuta - 7:45AM: i don’t think i was supposed to hear that…

yuuta - 8:34AM: who’s yuuji?

yuuta - 8:36AM: are you seeing someone? call me please.

yuuta - 8:57AM: pick up the phone.

yuuta - 9:21AM: it’s not funny anymore. i’m worried. pick up.

you answer your phone around noon, having given yourself the space to think over cooking a hang-over breakfast for yuuji. the sounds of spitting oil underneath frying eggs had provided the soundtrack to your thoughts – helped you pick and choose the words you would say to yuuta before your companion slips out of your apartment and you tell him to grab a pastry from your cafe downstairs on his way out. a little thank you for the night you’d shared.

“what the hell was that?” is the first thing yuuta snarls down the line once your call connects.

you shift your phone in your grasp, as if his seething tone has scorched the palm of your hand. “are we past greetings or somethin’, yuu?” you fail to admit that it hurts you, starting the call without his tender and caring ‘hello’, you feel like an enemy on the battlefield to okkotsu, rather than his friend.

“i think we are well past that, especially with the kind of voice messages you’ve been leaving me.” he says it like he’s disgusted with you, when he really just misses you. craves you. he’s angry at himself and for letting you slip between his fingers into the grasp of another man. not at you. never at you. but even cell phone lines connecting calls from across the globe can’t properly convey the way yuuta feels. “what’s going on with you? why are you acting like this? we haven’t spoken in weeks and you–?”

“why is what i do any of your business anymore, yuuta?” you snap through his flurry of questions, growing heated yourself. “i accidentally left you a voicemail of me fucking someone, that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with me.”

“you’re just… not like this. we don’t speak and all of a sudden…y-you’re different!”

you clutch the phone tighter, swallowing thickly. “and who’s fault is that? let me answer that for you. it’s yours. you’re the one who got a girlfriend and left me in the dust. not the other way around!” you argue, trying to sound stern and steady though yuuta can hear the wobble to your words loud and clear. “you shouldn’t have listened, you should have called. you let the distance become a problem between us.”

he scoffs, an action so unlike your best friend. “we’re not children anymore! you should have talked to me about the distance!”

“i couldn't!” you defend yourself, desperate for the pain in your heart to be heard for once. “you were finally happy again yuuta! that mattered to me—“

“you think i'm happy about hearing my best friend get…defiled over the phone?”

“well you should be! it means I’m not hung up on you anymore, that i’m moving on from being in love with you! leaving you so that you can be happy in your new life!”

the silence from yuuta’s end of the phone is both too loud and too deafening.

“you…loved me?” he whispers, switching back to that same sweet tone he always used when it came to you. “why didn’t you say?”

your stupid little confession, the one you’d been holding back for more than half your life, sips out before you can catch it with the tip of your tongue and you instantly feel terrible for weaponizing your crush on okkotsu against him. at least that’s what it feels like you’ve done. “i never told you…because i’m not selfish, yuuta,” you stutter out, your face hot with oncoming and flustered tears. “i-i'm not a selfish person. i wouldn’t sacrifice our friendship or your happiness, not just because i loved you.”

yuuta says your name, but blood rushes through your ears in embarrassment – way too fast for you to catch it, and you hang up before you can humiliate yourself any further.

before you can hear him say that he loves you too.

voicemail #7 - “open up, i'm coming home. please be here when I’m home.”

the number you have dialled is unavailable, please try again later.

after the slip of your tongue and confession to yuuta— he was met with radio silence. you’d blocked him on every form of social media possible and he couldn’t even blame you. you wanted to be free from him, from that silly and imaginary red string that had kept you tied to his soul for all of these years. it hurt to think when everything reminded you of him, so you buried yourself in your cafe and worked yourself to death because even the sweet relief from life would be better than living without your best friend.

gojo had stopped by and taken you to the hospital twice since you’d worked yourself into exhaustion — tonight was no different, sentenced to bed rest by your ex-professor and the best doctor he could find. he always did look out for his students.

sleeping your sadness away had caused you to miss a barrage of yuuta’s calls — if you’d picked up you’d have known that he was coming home. coming home for you. in the wake of your love confession, okkotsu had realised how much he needed you and how much he loved you. you had never left his side, no matter what yuuta had been through, and now, nothing feels right without you.

so he broke up with his girlfriend, took leave from his job and flew halfway across the world for you — to give his message in person.

it’s near midnight by the time yuuta gets back to japan, the warm yellow of the streetlights illuminating the path right up to your apartment after getting out of the uber. there’s a spare house key, glinting gold, hidden under your cupcake shaped doormat just as yuuta remembers and he uses it to slip inside — dumping his bag and kicking his shoes off at the entryway. his socked feet locate the bedroom with ease, perhaps drawn by your aura and the anticipation of seeing you again.

and there you are, so close yet so far away — your face peaceful and painted with an adorable expression of slumber. okkotsu notes the way your chest slowly rises and falls, the crease between your brow as if you’re having a bad dream. he could fix it… whatever’s plaguing your sleeping mind, he knows that he can, because whenever you touch each other, it’s like your bodies know to relax and that they’re safe.

tiptoeing deeper into the room, the brunette slinks up to the side of your bed and the mattress dips underneath the weight of his knee as he seats himself beside you. you’re so beautiful, so calm. he doesn’t know how he went his whole life without choosing you, choosing other people over you time and time again. “i love you,” yuuta whispers into the dead of the night, brushing a thumb and forefinger over the apple of your cheek — hesitating when you roll into his body heat. “i love you. i’m so sorry.” he says again, while pressing a feather light kiss to that same spot.

his breath hitches when you reach for him this time, grabbing at the man in your sleep.

yuuta kisses you again, but on your forehead. then your other cheek, your chin, your inner wrists and finally — your lips. each brush of his own against you is increasingly feverish, pouring unspoken emotions into them as he quietly utters the words ‘i love you.’ over and over again. he feels like he has something to prove, as if the brunette has to show you how much he cares for you — leaving a trail of sweet smooches between the valley of your breasts from over your night-shirt to between your thighs that spill out of the loose material.

he only hopes that this is enough for you to forgive him, for you to love him back like he does you.

your best friend… or ex best friend really should feel bad about this, teething on the swell of your thighs— his fingertips sinking into their apex to pry you apart for him. you could end up hating him more for this, yuuta’s slick and drool stained tongue rolling over the seam at the crotch of your panties hungrily, softly as if to test the waters. he takes it as a good sign when your face contorts with pleasure even in your sleep and slots his entire mouth against the sweet treasure between your legs— sucking the juices from the fabric of your underwear.

you taste so good and he’s not even got you properly wet yet. yuuta’s next move is to hook two fingers over the garment to pull it aside — revealing your twitching hot cunt to the cool night air in your bedroom. even your scent is divine, enticing just as you’ve always been and the brunette can’t believe he was too blind to see it before. he presses a chase kiss to your clit, feeling it pulse to life against his lips before said kisses become open mouthed and sloppy— tongue diving into the tightness of your little hole, circling it to flick your flavour back into his mouth.

his movements start slow, tenderly testing which spots inside your pretty little cunt make you sigh out contently while you slumber but the wetter you get, the sloppier yuuta becomes — lapping at your sex and your clit in eager movements like a kitten at a bowl of milk. you only stir awake when his fingers travel up to grip onto your ass and tug your pussy onto his face, guiding you up and down on his writhing tongue like he’s fucking you for real.

“y-yuu?” you grumble, still finding your footing in the reality of consciousness. “whas’ h-happenin’… oh my god—!” the questions you have for the mop of hair between your legs, groaning like a starved man into there too, taper into an angelic moan. pretty and airy, like music to yuuta’s ears. once you come to and fully realise what’s going on, your fingers slip into the roots of his hair and your hips buck into his mouth instinctively — even though you should be pissed. even though you should be screaming at him and kicking him off. you can’t help it that this is what you’ve always wanted. that you’ve always wanted him.

“w-what are you doing here?” you manage to ask through a whine, brain fogging up at the way yuuta’s tongue runs laps over your swelling clit.

he pulls off of you with a lewd pop that makes both of you shudder, two of his slender digits easily sliding into you where his tongue once was — guided by spit and slick. “i came home for you. i love you,” your best friend doesn’t have time to formulate proper reasoning, drunk on your saccharine flavour like you’re the finest wine he’s ever had the honour of tasting. “f-fuck, i-i missed you.”

yuuta gives you those big puppy dog eyes as he curls his digits inside of you and hits spots you can't quite reach on your own. you should be talking about your feelings not fucking through them but you’ve missed him so much and need him so bad. both of you groan in unison when he brushes over your g-spot, your hips jumping up and his grinding down into your silky sheets.

“missed you too,” you breathe and yank him up by the hair to meet your lips — making out with him feverishly, swapping the words your mind can’t seem to force you to say, pouring the mixed emotions into him as he finger fucks your tight little hole like his life depends on it.

every movement you make with one another is sloppy and uncoordinated, tongues doused in one another’s saliva— saliva that tastes like you. your moans mingle in the hot and heavy air and you clench down on yuuta’s fingers as they pump in and out of you, his palm slapping against your folds while you leak into the seat of his palm.

“are you close?” yuuta slurs into your mouth so quietly you almost miss it underneath the lewd sound of your pussy. “i want to make you cum, show you how much i love you.”

blood rushes through your ears, heat pin pricking like needles under your skin. “y-yes. p-please yuu…”

his thumb dragging smooth circles over the pulsating bud between your blooming pussy lips is all you need to trip over the edge into your high— the knots in your lower tummy unwinding faster than you can register, waves of your nectar flowing from your cunt onto the sheets below and soiling yuuta’s hand right up to his wrist.

your head tips back into a high pitched squeal, eyes locked away and rolling back while you damn near black out from your orgasm. but your best friend is right there like he should be, sucking love-bites into your neck to ground you. dark tresses of yuuta’s chocolate-like hair tickle at your tingling flesh while he manoeuvres himself between your legs and shifts his pants down enough to let his rock hard cock spring free.

“c-can you take me now?” he pleads more than he asks, brown and warm eyes trembling with need, anticipation. “i don’t think i’ll last long and i need you.”

you feel him press at your entrance, his angry red tip glistening with opaque beads of precum— yuuta softly ruts his hips against you, smearing…claiming you with his own essence while he waits for your consent. “i’ve always needed you, yuuta.” you say breathlessly, giving him a small grin and nod when he looks up from drooling against your neck.

that’s all the go ahead he needs before his thick girth pushes all the way into you at once — weighty and temperate against your ribbed and creamy walls. “‘ohmyfuckinggod,” he whimpers wetly against you. “y-you’re so tight wrapped around me. so perfect i—“

“move, yuuta. fuck me, please,” you remind him, tugging on his air and crossing your ankles at the base of his spine.

“y-yeah okay…g-god you’re so good. so sweet ‘n tight.” with that, he draws his hips back — hesitant at first. brown eyes watch your face for any signs of discomfort and yuuta’s lust driven instincts take the lead when he only notices how blissed out you look. your pretty lips are agasp, forming a pleasure-filled ‘o’ as you mewl and claw at his half-clothed shoulders. “i love you, o-oh god!”

all you can do is whimper in response, fingers drifting up to the nape of yuuta’s neck to tangle in his dark locks— tugging him into you as if it’ll make him hit deeper, churn up your guts and make you see stars. “y-you’re stupid…” you manage to get out, the warmth of your breath glossing his lips as if to taunt your best friend with a kiss.

“i know…” calloused fingers grab at the backs of your thighs with a bruising grip before yuuta pushes your legs towards your shoulders, both of you grunting and whining in unison when you tighten around him at the new angle. gushing sweet juices that paint his stomach and pelvis.

“y-you shouldn’t have left me,” tears start to brim, collecting in your lash line like diamonds before they hit your cheeks.

you’re so beautiful like this, even when you’re crying— when you’re crying because you’re fucked up on his cock, claiming it with your cream as ur clings to his balls and the veins that spital down his length.

yuuta’s red hot tip nudges against the soft and squishy spots along your sensitive walls, keeping his thrusts at a rhythmic and passionate pace to make sure the only thing you feel is heaven on earth. your pussy is hot and warm and heaven-like around him, sucking him in so selfishly and tightening every time yuuta’s strong abs grind against your puffy clit.

“i know,” he sighs dreamily and with an airy voice, licking a stripe from your chin to your cheek as a tear streaks it’s way down it. “won't ever leave you again,” his fingers touch at your face, sinking into the softness of your cheeks as he drags you up to face him. “i’ll never leave you again.”

“never?” you ask, hiccuping.

“never.” he moans.

you see it there, the love glittering amongst the almond flecks in your childhood best friend’s eyes — he means it, he promises it and you can feel it with every roll of yuuta’s hips into you while he pins you to the bed. he makes love to you and says what he needs to through his actions this time. through your tangled mess of sweaty limbs and fluttering lashes you find okkotsu’s hand, linking them together.

the sight of your hands meeting one another brings emotions bubbling to the surface of your skin, hot to yuuta’s touch — it's a symbol that you’ve finally come together after being worlds apart for so long. “you’re finally mine, ‘m never letting you go,” his warm breath coasts across the seam of your lips before he dips into kiss you— tongue gliding over yours as it pushes into the depths of your mouth just as his cock does, brushing up against your g-spot and just kissing your cervix. “you’re always going to be mine.”

“i-i’m yours,” your eyes roll back and yuuta loses his pace, his entire body twitching the closer you both get. sex taints the air, both in sound and scent, your cunt squelching around him with how wet you are and how much he leaks into you. “g-gonna cum, yuu! make me cum, make me fucking cum.” you slur out, anchoring the man down to you with your arms around his neck until yuuta’s forehead is pressed against yours. sweaty locks of his hair and all.

yuuta’s body collapses against you and his thrusts switch to sensual grinds that never let up on your spongey g-spot. “f-fuck me, b-baby. ‘m cummin’,” he croons, panting against your lips and with one, two, three more pumps you’re squirting all over him— the pressure unwinds in your lower belly and you’re hit with blinding white lights and your nails dig into yuuta’s shoulder to the point where you leave bright red crescent moons. “that’s it baby, cum for me, make a mess for me. show me you love me— fuck!”

you’re still trembling with the aftershocks with your orgasm when the brunette follows suit — the warmth of his seed floods your quivering cunt, painting your folds an opaque white before yuuta pulls out. the last droplets of his cum hit your soft tummy accompanied by his high pitched whine and then he crumples against you, exhausted from the height of it all.

“i love you so much,” yuuta hums against your skin, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder. “it’s always been you.”

“i love you,” you affirm, knowing that no matter what distance is put between you and your best friend (now lover) — you’ll always find your way back to each other.

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lady-ashfade · 3 months

Text

Through My Window

Percy Jackson x fem!reader

—£ They’re in their final year of high school

-£ words: 800

—£ warning: angst, self doubt, happy ending who?, fighting.

you’ve always been jealous of her. her perfect skin, her golden hair that shined brighter the sun. and how she got to be with him more then you. for months he left you to travel around the world and take on quest to save the world. and everytime he came back with stories. it hurt that you were never in them.

“i love you more then anyone, mortal or not. no one else will ever have me.” His lips kissed your forehead as he held your head close to him. it was senior year and he came back to school to see you, one year left before college. “hmm, love you too percy.” you caressed his hand on your cheek while you leaned into him. the stars looked so good tonight. you two hung out on the top of the hill over the city.

the year went amazing while he was by your side. studying together was always fun, the two of you teasing each other when someone got the answer wrong, or ending up falling asleep in each others arms. you loved it all. driving to school with each other, hanging out, going on dates all the time, you both working.

this year was bliss.

Percy stood with a cheeky grin on his face while standing before you, candles lighting up the path he made. “I know this is cheesy but I know you like that.” your smile grew wide as you almost started to cry from being overwhelmed. “will you go to prom with him?” it wasn’t even a doubt in your mind. you jumped into his arms and hugged him tightly.

you picked out a dress, green to match his eyes. it made you feel like a princess when you saw yourself in the mirror in the store. he’d love it. percy could never stop gushing over you.

weeks went by and nothing was out of place, it was all normal to you. the same arm that wrapped around your waist, the same eyes that admired you, his protective nature.

you started to believe everything he told you.

the night before prom he came to your window while it was pouring. it was funny because every time it rain you thought of him, and boom he was there. opening the window for him, “hey beach boy.” you helped him in.

“hey.” his voice was husky and low. if it wasn’t for the rain running down his face then you would have see the tears.

he looked around the room at anything but you. you hummed in confusion, “you okay?” you knew the answer. he sat on the bed with his shoulders hanging low. his foot tapped on the floor beneath him anxiously. he never liked to see you upset and he knew how this would affect you. leaving right before the night you two had been waiting for for years.

“i’m leaving.” he watched in silence for your answer and it was already making him sick. he would hear the sound of your heartbreak again. “what do you mean?” walking over to him slowly while you tried to wrapped your head over it. It wasn’t fair for them to pull him away before he could have fun like a normal person. but he wasn’t normal.

“i’m leaving you.”

stoping in your steps you stare at the back of his head right before your hand met his shoulder. your heart dropped right before it raced in your chest. “what?” the words tasted horrible in his own mouth but he had to do. he had to leave you. there was nothing more that he wanted then to have you safe and with him. but this time it was different, everyone he loved was being attacked.

he wouldn’t risk you. he sighed while holding back his own tears. “i thought i could do it,” standing up he turned back at you while his own heart broke to see you staring at him like that. hurt and betrayed. “i wish it was different.”

you shook your head and stepped back fully, everything in your mind running. you felt sad and angry, scared and confused. but he wasn’t telling the truth, there was something more he was scared of saying.

“It’s annabeth, you’re leaving me for her aren’t you?” Your accusing glare made him freeze. you think he’d ever actually do that to you? He couldn’t blame you in this moment because he promised to stay but here he is, leaving.

Percy didn’t want to say what he was about to but this would make you hate him, make you glad he was leaving. “Yes..” he whispered. your jaw tensed and nostrils flared in anger. you pointing the the widow, “get out! I never want to see you ever again Percy jackson.”

he let out a defeated sigh and walked to the open window while rain still poured down. He crawled half away out but look back at you for one last time. the one thing he will remember is the tears now trailing down your cheeks and the look of heartbreak.

“I’m sorry” he didn’t get a response before you shut the window behind him while closing your blinds.

#percy jackson x you #percy jackson imagine #book percy #book percy jackson #Percy Jackson x reader #book Percy Jackson x reader #percy jackson and the olympians x reader

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81folklore · 7 months

Text

older - CL16

pairings: charles leclerc x male!singer!reader (fc: luke hemmings)

summary: singer yn ln releases a love song with his boyfriend, and the public are not prepared for who it is about

authors note: this has been on my mind for SO LONG. i honestly dont like how many fics ive been doing on the same people (charles, lando etc) but whenever i go to start a new one on my list for someone else i think of something that i have to do😭 also in this reader is not a part of 5sos but close friends with the 3, wfttwtaf is readers album and older is exclusivly the readers song

authors note 2: i wanted to quickly clarify i am NOT speculating that charles or luke are gay/queer and this is not my intentions. luke obviously sings older and i find it easier to visualise it this way, while the reader in this is male, this could also be read as gn!reader. this is FICTION please do not tkae this as me speculating anything

authors note 3: i didnt really know what i was doing with this so its kind of all over the place and very rushed :/ but then again when arent my smau all over the place?? also can you tell i hate writing comments by the way i just dont😭

masterlist

yourusername

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we started this song together back in 2020 and picked it back up at the end of 2022

'Older' was originally a voice memo of a 50’s-style love song that we wrote together, then forgot about. when thinking of concepts for my debut album i stumbled across the memo and fell in love with it all over again, but i put it aside yet again as to me, it deserved more than the album

the song has changed a lot from the original voice memo, but the meaning has stayed the same throughout. despite all the beauty, the ups and downs of a long-term relationship over many years, there’s inevitably going to be the worst moment of your love because one of you is going to lose each other

capturing those feelings in a song was tricky but ultimately we wrote from the heart and i think it shows in the song itself

this has always been a song between us, so having him play on this song was very importnt to me and im glad he said yes

older is now yours

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im very pleased to announce a very special one off show at the Royal Albert Hall in London this November 18th. I will be playing a bunch of tracks from my debut album and may be joined to play some others aswell! Tickets on sale this monday at 10 am BST. Lots of love always, yn x

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yourusername

liked by 5sos, charles_leclerc and 2,719,936 others

thank you for an incredible night at the royal albert hall

looking back at the best night of my life, i need to thank each and every one of you who allowed this dream to come true, i will never be able to thank you guys enough

performing in my dream venue, with my favorite people in the world was something i never thought was possible and yet here i am, writing this still on my high from last night

thank you to my friends; michael, ashton and calum who took the time to come to london and perform their songs with me, thank you for always loving me and agreeing to my crazy ideas

to my team and everyone who worked to make this night as special as it could be, thank you. thank you for making my htoughts a reality and making this night as wonderful as possible

thank you to the staff who worked throughout the show to make sure everyone was safe, well and looked after. you truly do not get as much credit as you deserve and i apreciate the hard work you put in to keep everyone happy

thank you to those who joined me, i wish each and every one of you who wanted to could have been there. thank you for singing along and listening to me pour my heart and soul into my music

thank you for letting me do this x

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user55: not the pcd hitting already☹️

user1: and im supposed to pretend i didnt see yn and 5sos perform os/co??

user89: CHARLES?? YN IS DATING CHARLES??

user91: AND HE CAME ON STAGE?? AND THEY PERFORMED OLDER??

user50: i cant believe i saw this all happen live

user47: THANK YOU TO WHOEVER WAS RUNING THE GRAINY LIVESTREAM I OWE YOU MY LIFE🧎🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️

ashtonirwin: thank you for everything yn. youre a real life angel

user16: NO CHARLES MENTION??

user9: BESTIE HE HAS A WHOLE POST

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liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, michaelclifford and 3,619,273 others

after having time to process this show, I feel so overcome with gratefulness. my music means so much to me and seeing so many people resonate with it in a live space was so special for me.

charlie, my life would literally fall apart without you and this would have never happened without you giving me the confidence to do so, i hold so much love and admiration for you

thank you for joining me on such a special night and performing our song with me, thank you for sticking with me through it all and thank you for allowing me to share this part of my life with you

i sometimes wonder where i would be if i didnt find you, if i wasnt blessed with your love. i try to think about the times before you, before us, but both feel impossible to do after feeling your love

life with you is so special and i promise to always cherish and love you

merci de m'avoir laissé vieillir avec toi, merci de m'avoir laissé t'adorer, merci de m'avoir choisi (thank you for letting me get old with you, thank you for letting me adore you, thank you for choosing me)

yn x

tagged: charles_leclerc

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charles_leclerc: mon ange, je t'aimerai toujours (my angel, I will always love you)

charles_leclerc: je suis tellement privilégiée d'être celle que tu aimes🤍🤍 (I'm so privileged to be the one you love)

yourusername: vieillir avec toi ne semble pas si effrayant🖤🖤 (growing old with you doesn't seem so scary)

#f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 smau #f1 social media au #social media au #formula 1 insta au #formula 1 social media au #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc insta au #charles leclerc social media au #charles leclerc #formula one x reader #x male reader #f1 x male reader

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diejager · 1 year

Note

Ooo I just love how you write platonic yanderess

Can you write a platonic yandere Ghost with his little sister😗

Of course. Of course.

Pairing : Big brother Simon "Ghost" Riley & little sister reader

Cw: canon violence, death, Ghost background, death, murder, dark, platonic yandere, protective Ghost, murder, mental breakdown, depression, trauma.

Wc: 1.3k

The last thing he wanted people to know - even his team - was about his civilian life, the secrets he held under lock and key near his heart, and a hard appearance. He protected what little was left of his old life fiercely, he wasn't Simon Riley anymore, he was "Ghost" now and that's all people knew. All the pain and torture he went through, from digging himself out of his grave to finding his family murdered, dead in the home they thought safe.

He remembered going home, exhausted and ecstatic to see his family, he celebrated Christmas with his family, drinking and eating at Tommy's house, you sitting next to him - your older brother. He was lucky that everyone was free that night, you both had unpredictable schedules, him being a red beret and you a field medic. Although he never had the chance to work with you, you were always skilled with your hands, bandaging and nursing his wounds.

You fixed him up when your dad got too drunk, Simon used to wrap himself around your body and receive every hit and berate of degrading insults your dad liked to spew. Simon protected you and you played his nurse until it became too real, you left for military service a few years after him, wishing to help the one who protected you so often.

He left to drink with friends on the eve, military buddies, you promise to come back once you got something from your flat near the edge of Downtown Manchester (it was a bit far, but always noisy, it helped quell the nightmares that silence brought).

He rushed home when he finished with whatever Sparks had done, ending him and his accomplice. They knew where he was before, it put his family at risk, then the call he got only solidified his fears when he stepped into Tommy's house, door open and lights off.

He found you sobbing, kneeling over Tommy and Joseph's bodies, cradling them. The dread and devastation he felt were overpowering, his life in the military had cost him his happy family. He was served revenge on a silver platter, a few scrapes here and there, but you two had disappeared in the dead of Christmas.

Everything from public relationships to your face was a risk, and somehow, he managed to keep you by his side wherever he served. You were the medic and him the lieutenant; (Name) and Simon Riley were dead, simply Doc and Ghost. That's how the world knew you and how Task Force 141 called you. Doc and Ghost, stuck by the hips, wearing similar masks and worked spectacularly together.

You were the last of his family, of the life he had before the murder - his dreamy heaven - so he kept you close, he protected you like he did when you were younger. If they got too close, he'd dispose of them immediately. Your safety was his top priority, whatever he did was for you, and the purpose he built himself was to ensure that you'd live.

He wanted you to stay, the agonizing pain of feeling lost and alone was harrowing, and he couldn't risk the chance of losing you too. They haunted him in his sleep, the memory of their deaths and his regrets, it all loomed over him like a reminder of his mistakes - his failures. The 'what if's lingered in his mind, the 'should have' and 'could have' becoming a mainstream of his thoughts when he looked at himself in the mirror; what if he never joined the army; what if he was there that night; he should have been there with them, instead of drinking at a bar; he could have saved you the grief and pain he felt, the one you shared like an open wound.

It should have been him.

He told himself that so many times, to you and himself, always mumbling about it at night, pointing the finger at himself for the loss. You stayed by his side, smaller arms wrapped around him like a blanket of comfort, warm and reassuring with words that pushed back his demons. He loved you so much, for being here and for always sticking to him.

You don't blame him for it, he doesn't understand how you don't, he saw it as his fault for bringing the enemy home.

"'S not your fault, Si," you whispered to him, his mental state too fragile for loud noises. His ears were ringing, almost so loudly that he thought his mind would implode on itself. You knew he felt everything much stronger, being the eldest of the trio he felt more responsible. "You're not to blame, Si. None of it, ya understand?"

He liked how your hands held his, gripping him tightly to bring him back to earth, far away from his violent mind. You supported him when he crashed and he held you when you broke, their deaths never left you, it simply brought you closer together than you'd think possible.

You closed yourself from others and built a wall of brick and cement, yet you smiled and socialized freely, you spoke enough for you both - or so Ghost insisted. He grew colder, callous, and brash with others, reserving his sweeter and softer side for you.

He stood near you, practically looming over you with his height of 6'4, broad shoulders, dark fatigues; a giant wall of muscle, you'd tease him, though you knew he was only protecting you. He's grown wary of everything that tried to approach you, he would stand before any approaching figure and glare them down.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, you were told from the file Price sent you, walked to meet you, smiling broadly and eyes squinting from the bright sun that bared down on the base. Besides him was Gaz, Kyle Garrick, olive-skinned and leaner than both males - blockheaded blokes, you called Simon and Soap.

His newly formed habit stood out the moment Ghost moved to block you from their sights, standing high and sneering when they stood feet away from you. You saw them flinch, hesitation seen through their eyes before they closed in, greeting Ghost who stared at their hand.

"Doc, pleasure meeting you, Soap, Gaz," you moved around Ghost, tapping his forearm reassuringly, his tense form slumping slightly. "He's Ghost, sorry 'bout him, he's not much of a people's person." Ghost huffed as you shook their hands, peering between them to the other duo approaching: Captain John Price and Gary "Roach" Sanderson.

Ghost acted once more, moving to guard you even though he knew Price prior to the formation of Task Force 141, you both knew him. You shook his hand, bowing your head lightly out of respect for the experience and battle-hardened man.

Other than guarding you, he hoarded your attention like a dragon hoarding his gold, keeping you by his side wherever he went as much as he stuck to yours. Per your conditions, you and Ghost would always be assigned together, and Price sympathetically complied. You bunked together and ate on the same table, he warded away unsavory glances and you lashed out at those that glowered at Ghost.

Although you'd burn the world for Ghost, he took it a step further, he took it upon himself to take care of whatever plagued you. Be it harassment from a fellow soldier, he'd disappear the next day; be it an unintentional threat to your safety, properly disposed of; be it someone who's trying to get close to you, too close to you, would find themselves jumping into an oncoming train.

He did as he should to keep you from harm, any kind that would mean losing you. A desperate man takes desperate measures, and Simon "Ghost" Riley is the most desperate elder brother in the world.

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izzyhandslightofmylife · 4 months

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Official statement on why Izzy's death affected me so much

Our Flag Means Death, is, at it’s core, is a show that focuses on queer joy- a form of therapy for those that have been raised on queerbaiting, shipping minor side characters, or watching, when nothing else is available, queer tragedies. You know how it goes- the two main characters, both male, have chemistry. They say things to each other that seem weirdly like declarations of love. They look at each other with love in their eyes. You see these things and the main man gets married off to a badly written, unfinished female character and is left feeling empty. The best friend dies for the main character to live. When everyone talks about how cute the main couple are, you want to scream all of a sudden, because nobody can see this love story play out except you. It’s queer, it’s tragic, and nobody else can understand it.

Not Our Flag Means Death. From the moment it aired, it was praised as a show with unabashed queer joy, which means more than I can possibly say. The two main male characters meet, they have chemistry, and they fall in love. It’s not implied, or hinted at, but blatantly obvious. Their romances and the queer romances around them attracted so many queer fans who felt that after so many years, this type of show was a vindication for what they had been through with other media.

In this show, piracy itself was that of a found family. Though Stede Bonnet and the crew of the Revenge start off with many differences, the core of the show centers around a theme that many queer audiences are attracted to: found family. The Revenge was depicted as a safe space, where everyone could express themselves freely, a refuge from a world of judgment. Queerness was not only accepted but normalized on The Revenge. No homophobia, no coming out, no typical complications of queer romance. Just love and safety. Warmth, which was Ed Teach wished for in purgatory. Which was what he found on the Revenge. The ship was a safe space that so many queer audiences had dreamed of.

Well, a safe space except for one person: Izzy Hands, Blackbeard’s First Mate, who was a man painfully stuck in the wrong genre. This is the general consensus by both fans and the cast: Izzy, Edward and their crew had been in a gritty action movie, whereas Stede and his crew were in a muppet movie of sorts. While the majority of Blackbeard’s crew quickly acclimates to and celebrates the change, Izzy doesn’t.

And right away, many fans felt a deep attraction to Izzy. The reason that Izzy couldn’t get Edward to love him was because, in the end, the only way that Izzy knew how to love was through blood. To give and receive pain in an action movie is one of the greatest forms of love, but Izzy fails to realize that Ed is not in an action movie anymore. He is happy with this stability, and the reason that so many people felt Izzy’s presence so was strongly was that he wasn’t.

So many queer people are, in a way, addicted to tragedy. Tragedy is all that is represented in queer media for the most part, or was until very recently. Take Achilles and Patroclus, one of the most celebrated and recognized queer love stories of both ancient and modern times. Why that one? There are other greek love stories, many of them queer. The tragedy of it- Patroclus’ death and Achilles’ rage- made it all the more appealing. Many in the audience of Our Flag Means Death were not comedy fans, they were horror or drama fans, attracted to a comedy because of the love story. But Izzy, to them, was a physical representation of who they were, carrying an awareness of homophobia, of blood and pain that so many queer relationships had previously been illustrated by (i.e. Hannibal). Though Ed may not have understand this type of affection, the audience did- Izzy’s Otherness from the crew despite it’s safety, his expressions of love and his unrequited love story were all things that the audience were familiar with feeling.

If Ed and Stede were good queer representation, Ed and Izzy, for example, were a foil of that. They were evil, messed up, and fed into the worst parts of each other because it brought them closer. This is a theme present in a lot of queer media, and by extension, queer lives: “if you love me, Henry, you don’t love me in a way I understand”, is an excerpt classic queer poem about unrequited love that fits the situation. The very reason Izzy stuck in people’s heads because he was of a different genre. His grittiness and bitterness made sense to the audience. They saw Izzy and saw what was familiar. He was exquisitely written, simultaneously making even casual audiences both hate him, and against all odds, find him oddly endearing. The idea of this man sacrificing every inch of himself for an unrequited love was a concept of tragedy, leaking into a comedic show.

So fans projected onto Izzy. He was a catalyst for the heartache, for the audience’s sheer inability to have a happy show. For one reason or another, some of the audience simply couldn’t live with a show that was all fantastical, which I theorize is because they couldn’t see themselves in it. So Izzy became the epitome of queer suffering: pining longingly after another man that couldn’t understand him. This projection of suffering, however, led to a new wish: happiness for Izzy. If Izzy in Season 1 was a tragedy, assimilating him into the found family in Season 2 would have elevated the safe sense of the ship all the more. It would have proved to so many of these Izzy Fans that yes, even though you view yourself as unloveable, even though you see yourself as Israel Hands, Villain, even he can be loved too. Why can’t you be?

And Season 2, for the most part, delivered beyond our wildest dreams. Izzy had people who cared about him. And though the genre shifted into the darker, Izzy himself shifted slightly to the comedic side as well. His life, which had been centered for so long around a man that didn’t reciprocate his feelings, was gone. He started a new life, and this life, again, focused on queer joy. The queer joy from Season 1 was suddenly for everyone, even those like Izzy that couldn’t have understood it. He sang, he whittled, he talked about feelings, he dressed in drag. Many elder queer fans also saw Izzy as another metaphor, too: that queer joy can be attained overtime. You don’t have to have had it the whole time, but you can accept yourself even when you are older. The message of Izzy was one of resilience and stubbornness, one that the queer community needed to hear: that you don’t have to be like this, you don’t have to create pain for yourself. You don’t need to watch tragedies all the time. You, too, can heal from the past.

And then, the season finale happened. By this point, many argued that Izzy had stolen the show. Con O’Neil’s acting mixed with his general arc of self acceptance had made him a fan favorite. In the last episode, it is Izzy himself who sums it up perfectly, accepting that he belongs somewhere despite his pain and flaws. Despite the darkness within him, he was still accepted and loved. He says it right to the face of Prince Ricky, who thinks himself above it all. That piracy, a metaphor for otherness, wasn’t actually about being alone; it was about finding others that understood you when nobody else could.

Listen, this show is known for it’s nonsensicality. In the finale of Season 1, Lucius is thrown overboard by Ed and survives by simply swimming to another ship. Stede reunites with his crew by sailing a rowboat. Buttons turns into a seagull. Stede stabs Ed for a comedic bit. Earlier in the season, Izzy himself gets shot and survives. This queer joy show was celebrated for being, well, joyful. Even when things like getting thrown overboard did happen, they were, ultimately, a blip in the character’s journey towards acceptance, healing, etc, which was what made the show unique. Our Flag Means Death, whose audience had been living for years off of the “Bury your gays” trope, was adored because it illustrated a world where things didn’t have to be that way. A place where the impossible, such as Izzy Hands being loved, could happen. This show was one of survival.

But not for the one person that was seen to struggle with this concept the most. Not for the one person that was a metaphor for belonging in this place, who became, over the course of a season, the embodiment of the message itself. Not for the Unicorn, the very symbol of this magical, nonsensical ship. Not for the most stubborn, most indestructible, most enduring (queer) person in the show. Not for Izzy Hands.

This trope, honestly, was one that many have seen before, both in mainstream and queer media. A character, previously shown to be a villain or else to have gone through a lot of pain, is shown to heal, to get better, and then to die in order to “complete their arc”. This trope is common: Loki, Cas. even Ted Lasso, who doesn’t die but goes back to the very place that broke him in the first place. But the reason that Izzy’s death, while it might have been expected in another show, felt like a betrayal in this one is because it was known for subverting those tropes. From the “Bury Your Gays” to the “Up For Interpretation”, it was known to look those tropes in the eyes and say “fuck you, these people deserve to be happy”. And this did happen! Except for the one character who’s healing journey was one of the most relatable, at least to queer audiences.

What also made it so jarring was that all the other characters got to be happy, except for the one that had struggled with the idea of happiness the most. In the scene immediately after Izzy is buried, Lucius and Pete get married. In the scene after, a montage of queer joy and found family is shown amongst the whole crew. In the final scene, Ed and Stede, our main queer couple, are shown healing themselves and starting a new life together. The last shot, however, showed Izzy’s grave, visited by Buttons the seagull while Ed and Stede had dinner. A tragedy in it’s finest. It wouldn’t have been difficult for Izzy to live. Because, in the end, his death meant nothing. His healing meant nothing. He died and was moved on from in a matter of seconds. He was, as I mentioned, the catalyst for tragedy, more specifically, queer tragedy. But because of this, of his genre, Izzy didn’t get to live. He had to die in order for the rest of the characters to keep living in this fantasy world. This death was, in a way, a preservation of these other love stories.

I maintain, however, that it would have meant more if Izzy had lived. If he had been able to show to us that yes, despite what you have been through, despite what you may have inflicted upon yourself, you can switch genres. It’s possible. Izzy’s survival up until that point had been a profound testament to many that it is possible to heal, that queerness does not have to mean sadness. It would have continued to be a testament to that if only Izzy had lived. And so, this pirate that we latched onto, not in spite of his darkness but because of it, was buried on land on the side of the road.

As a side note, many previous incidences in the story point to the idea even though Ed and Stede will definitely stay together, it’s uncertain if the inn would have worked out. It’s likely that, being a whim, those two might have chosen to move, or go back to the sea, or sail to China. If this is true, they would have left Izzy’s grave by itself, like a family pet buried in the yard. If this is true, Izzy Hands, a metaphor for belonging, would rot alone.

Long live the tragedy addicts. Long live the Richard Siken poems. Long live Izzy Hands.

*When I talk about the "fandom" I am referring to the canyon.

#izzy hands #izzy hands apologist #izzy canyon #our flag means death #ofmd finale #ofmd #izzy hands death #izzy deserved better #ofmd fanfic #i guess #ofmd canyon #con o'neill #tragedy #oh uh happy new year #ofmd meta

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skzdarlings · 11 months

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part vi: bodyguard!felix x reader

masterlist.

PART I ; PART II ; PART III ; PART IV ; PART V ; PART VI ; PART VII ; PART VIII ; PART IX ; FINAL PART.

( READ ON AO3. )

Your father hires an inconspicuous bodyguard to accompany you at school and supervise you at home. What seems like an innocuous change in routine eventually spirals into a forbidden romance that grows more passionate over the years.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: smut. violence. parental abuse. situations of intense peril overall. forced proximity. enemies2lovers. angst with eventual happy ending. (chapter word count; 9500 words)

Graduation approaches. There will be a ceremony in the afternoon then a dinner and dance, hosted in a hotel ballroom. It is nothing so luxurious as your father’s soirees, but it is a milestone that should be filled with meaning and memory.

You do not go.

You close this chapter of your life while vowing to never forget a moment of it. Jisung and Hyunjin both impacted your life for the better. Though you will not put them in danger by association, you hope they will find happiness. They will both be better in the long run.

You look at Felix and wish you could grant such a freedom to everyone.

You let yourself mope for a few days and Felix does not intervene, only checking in now and again to see if you need anything. You have not talked about what transpired between you, but that was to be expected even without any distractions.

He extends comfort in a platonic sense at best, more professional than ever with how he hovers in your periphery, ensuring you are safe but never crossing a line. He will embrace you when you have a nightmare, but he is much more stiff than he used to be. He does not touch you with his gentle caresses, only holds you with a perfunctory grasp. You think if this entire ordeal with Jisung had not happened, then he would have stopped altogether by now.

The night of the graduation, you sleep restlessly and wake in an emotional fit. You stare at Felix across the bed, your tumultuous emotions flickering between sadness, anger, and longing. You don’t know what to do, and it isn’t fair, and you want him so badly.

You dig your fist into the mattress and press your face into the pillow, fighting down a scream. Your shuffling wakes Felix who whispers your name. He moves closer then reaches the rest of the way, touching the back of your head.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“No,” you say, muffled. You thump your fist against the mattress. “I hate you,” you say, because you don’t hate him at all. He’s all you have left yet it does not suffice to say there is only Felix, because even if you had a world of options you would still want him. He is singular in both charm and peculiarity. You do not hate him, but the threshold of the opposite looms with a terrifying danger for you both. What happened with Jisung would be miniscule in comparison to the consequences of this affair.

You know that, and yet.

You want to close this space for good. You want to throw caution to the wind and indulge your most romantic desires. You want him to want it too.

“Do you hate me?” you ask, turning your face but not meeting his eye.

“I—” He clears his throat. “I’m just… doing my job. I can’t have feelings one way or, uhh, another.”

“That’s not a no,” you say, lifting your gaze to his. He is propped up on one arm, staring down at you, blonde hair in a dishevelled mess around his face. His gaze drifts and you feel you are losing him. “Felix…” you say, imploringly.

“You have no idea,” he suddenly says, his tone almost vicious. “No idea… what it does to me when you—when you—when you look… at me… like that.” He falls onto his back and covers his face with both hands.

He always looks so skinny in his baggy sleep shirts, all sharp lines jutting out of the fabric. It completes his lie: the too-happy, naïve boy who is all smiles all the time, with nothing to see beyond the surface. No one would guess what he is capable of doing. Even you had not fully realized the breadth of his person until you witnessed it with your own eyes.

His mind seems to be following a similar path because he says, “You saw me kill someone.” He rubs his forehead like a migraine is settling there. “You shouldn’t look at me like you do. You shouldn’t—I don’t understand—how you’re not ever afraid—of him—of me—”

“I’m always afraid,” you whisper the admittance. You continue to look at him even while he stares up at the ceiling, his arms crossed protectively over his chest. “Just not of you,” you say.

He closes his eyes. He breathes out through his nose.

“You’re supposed to be,” he says. “That’s why I—that’s why I exist, yeah? I was raised to be this… thing. People are supposed to be afraid when they see who I am. Even your father is scared of me. And if he didn’t—if he didn’t have me on this—this fucking leash—” He sits upright, practically snarling as he speaks. Only experience in tempering his emotions brings him back down to calm, simply glaring across the room through the dark.

You wait to see if he will say more, your attention caught by what he let slip. Even your father is afraid of him, despite having him lashed to a tether of some kind. You want to know more, but you do not want to take what he does not willingly give, even though you know he will answer any question if you push. He made that promise a long time ago.

You are both almost nineteen. You have spent a quarter of your lives together. Those years, his present, and his future are all ensnared, and you cannot find it in yourself to forcibly rip his past away too.

You sit upright as well. He still does not look at you, gaze faraway. You twist the blankets in your lap, itching to reach out and smooth back a messy strand of his hair.

“You’re not just a thing to me,” you say.

“I know,” he says softly, still looking to the side. “Sometimes I wish I was just a thing.” He tips his head, staring into the distance as if he can see a memory playing out in the dark. “Sometimes I wish… it was that easy. That I could… put it all somewhere. Stop feeling. Stop being. That’s what I was supposed to be. If I could—if I did—I wouldn’t be here at all. But also…”

He trails off and his mind drifts. You tug at the blanket again.

“But also?” you ask.

His head turns to you, though his gaze is lowered, down to your fidgeting fingers.

“But…also…” he says. “I wouldn’t want that. If I had never… been someone. If I had never known…someone…”

He meets your gaze now. He has not looked at you with such direct intensity in days and it feels like basking in the sun after so much shadow. Your expression must return a similar ardor because his lips part with a deep exhale, his body instinctively tipping towards yours like it so often does. He maintains enough mental faculty not to fall all the way, holding himself back, only looking at your face. He lingers on your mouth.

“I understand,” you say, tingling with the effect of his gaze, tangible as a kiss.

“Yeah?” he says, his voice rough.

You feel a bit fuzzy, distracted with the energy between you. You only loosely cling to your own train of thought but you manage to say, “Yes. Making sense of the good in the bad. Both shaping who you are. The people you know… changing you for the better.”

“Jisung,” Felix says, ruminating on your words. Then a flicker of displeasure creases his brow as a thought occurs to him. “Hyunjin,” he says. “They were both… part of your good.”

“Yes,” you say, watching him pull away into his own mind.

“You liked Hyunjin a lot,” Felix says, clearing his throat. “I didn’t—I wasn’t sure—”

You roll your eyes even while a smile breaks onto your face. There is something so charmingly childish about the clear jealously that is suddenly plaguing him. It isn’t dangerous dramatics or dark pasts – just one boy glaring at the recollection of you dating another boy.

You push the blankets off your lap and move so you are kneeling at his side. He looks away but that is fine, because you tuck his hair behind his ear and lean in to whisper, “I didn’t like Hyunjin half as much as I hate you.”

He clenches his jaw. His shoulder twitches with a little shiver. A smile tugs at his lips.

“Oh,” he says. “All right.”

“All right,” you repeat in a mockingly deep voice. “That’s his reply – all right. This is why I hate you.”

“Mmm?” He tips his head, smiling at you. “Is it?”

You feel flushed. You sit back again, poking at the covers. “Among other things,” you say.

He laughs but tries not to, the result a very low chuckle that he unsuccessfully tries to hide behind his hand. You shove his shoulder. He sways dramatically like it was a hard hit. He is still chuckling when you lay back down, arms stubbornly crossed.

He lays on his side and props his head in his hand. There is space between you but you can touch his face with a simple stretch. You trace your fingertips down his jaw and it smooths out his laughter, expression softer. Your heart is thundering when you touch his lips, just a light touch. It should be inconsequential when you consider what you have already done, but it feels substantial as anything else. You wonder if this sensation will ever lessen.

He takes your wrist and moves your hand, his breath fluttering over your fingertips. He swallows hard.

“I’m a bad person,” he says. “I’m not supposed to care about being bad. But I do.”

“You’re not a bad person,” you say. “Because of the things they make you do? How can you say that?” From the moment he walked into your life, Felix has done everything in his limited power to provide relief. You did not always appreciate it, but it did not stop his efforts.

“I am,” he says. “I’m selfish. I let myself forget… so many things… when you look at me.” He lays down on his back, curling one arm under his head. “You know, I’ve been trained to withstand torture,” he says, casually despite the ripple of horror that moves through you. “But they didn’t prepare me for, uhh, you doing that… thing with your eyelashes, when you want something. Or when you, you know, stick out your lip like this—”

He pouts and it makes you laugh despite everything.

“I don’t do that,” is all you can say.

“Sure,” he says, with a little smile and eye-roll. “It’s more effective than a bullet. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Duly noted,” you say dryly. “You know for such a well-trained whatever-you-are, you just made a pretty dumb mistake.”

“Oh?”

You roll onto your front so the lengths of your bodies are pressing along the side. You rest your chin in the cup of your hand and smile your most innocent smile.

“Yes,” you say. “It isn’t very smart to tell an enemy your weaknesses like that.”

“My enemy,” he says like the word amuses him, corners of his lips ticked up. He moves quickly, leaning into your space so surely that you can feel his breath fan your lips. “Is that what you are, then? My job. My enemy.” He laughs the word, then whispers with a teasing smirk, “And my sweetheart.”

“Sworn enemies,” you somehow manage without even a stutter. You take his teasing further and say, “You can even tell my daddy. That’s your job, isn’t it?”

“That isn’t a joke,” he says, tone serious though his soft expression betrays him.

“Who’s joking?” you say. “We’re just two enemies, sharing a bed. I hate you, and you—”

“Yes?” He has a cocky look on his face, playful as it is. “What do I do?”

You narrow your eyes in a theatrical glare, then you just smile.

“You...” Your voice comes softly, your knuckles brushing his jaw. “You know what it feels like to be inside me.”

Your heart thumps erratically at his drastic shift in expression, the laughter replaced with shock then obvious vexation, dark eyes slanting in warning. You just smile like it is of no concern to you at all.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you murmur. “I’m just saying. Sweetheart.”

You roll away, leaving space between you again. You wriggle your hips more than necessary and your shirt predictably rucks up, your shorts similarly loose and high around your thighs.

Your heart is still racing even though you got the last word in. You breathe to centre yourself.

Then he grabs you by the neck and tugs you back across the bed. It is a showy demonstration but a gasp bursts past your lips, your hand instinctively clutching his sturdy hand. It is your turn to be beyond surprised when he presses right up against you from behind.

“Don’t play games that have no winner,” he speaks into your ear.

“Who’s playing?” you reply, grinding back against him.

He exhales, an exasperated sound that has you giggling. You yelp when he rolls you onto your front, all but planting your face in a pillow before abruptly letting you go. You lift your head as he swings out of the bed.

“Where are you going?” you ask.

“The bathroom,” he says. “Don’t try to leave or I’ll tell your father, yeah?”

He is grinning with his victorious retreat. His alleged training is good enough that he dodges the pillow you chuck at his head.

Your father returns home the next day. He never had any intention of attending your graduation, agreeing with his own late father’s assertion that a high school graduation was a juvenile joke celebrating mediocrity.

Felix already reported that you did not attend so there is nothing more to say on the matter. The subject of graduation merely broaches the topic of post-secondary education. He calls you into his office and presents you with a folder detailing the next step of your education. You will attend his alma mater, a prestigious university that did not require your application as he most certainly just paid for your admittance.

“And,” he says, “I am generously giving you one more opportunity to prove you are not the unfledged adolescent you have insisted on presenting.”

This opportunity is online summer classes to pre-emptively advance your position in the program. As if it matters where you rank in the scheme of things; your life set in stone.

“Fine,” is all you say. The wounds from the incident with Jisung are still fresh so you do not have an argument inside you. It would just be for the sake of itself anyway, as it is not like you have anything better to do with your summer.

You still complain to Felix. You find him in the gym, working up a sweat. A captive audience for your lengthy complaint session.

He runs a self-made obstacle course while you inexpertly pummel a punching bag to let out your frustrations. Eventually he takes a water break and wanders over to you. You crinkle your nose and pretend to be disgusted with his appearance, but in actuality a hot, sweaty Felix reminds you of that cramped car and all the heat between you.

He tips his head back and drinks his water and your eyes follow a drop of sweat as it licks down his neck. You look away when he stops drinking, when he swipes a hand across his forehead.

“Careful,” he says. “You should tape your hands first, yeah? You’ll hurt yourself.”

You slap the punching bag and smirk when he frowns at you.

“Not funny,” he says, and takes your hand to inspect it. He is smiling despite his words. When he catches your eye, he tries to quell it, but his gaze is tender as his touch when he massages your hand. “Just remembering,” he mumbles. “First night here. You and that… what was it? Eggplant?” He shakes his head. “I was, uhhh, not prepared.” He laughs. “I clearly didn’t know what I was getting into.”

“Yes, I’m sure I came across as a very intimidating adversary,” you say dryly.

“Yes.” He laughs, a sharp breath. His eyes flick up to you. “Like no one I’d ever met before.”

You feel bashful under his gaze. You look down at where he is rubbing your hand, so very careful with the amount pressure he applies. It is still hard to reconcile this soft-touched boy with the violence that has evidently puppetted him for all his life. It seems impossible that he could be a cog in that machine, not with hands like this, not with a touch so delicate in its gentle offer of solace.

He mentioned being trained to withstand torture, a training he must have received very young because you met him at fourteen as a fully formed soldier ready to follow orders. To this day, you remember his unblinking neutrality as he pressed the tip of that blade into the back of his hand. Yet now he holds your hand with such loving attention, so much humanity in his affection for someone else, even where people apparently tried to scrub it out of him.

It is too much to think about right now. You pull your hand away and don a faux-haughty air, flicking your wrist at him, fingers wiggling.

“Kiss it better,” you say with a supercilious tone. “Or I’ll tell my dad you let me get injured.”

He blinks at you, maybe perplexed with the sudden shift in tone, but then he just laughs and rolls his eyes.

“Mmm. Right,” he says. But he checks the door is empty then takes your hand. You realize this is a stupid ploy because it backfires the moment his lips brush your knuckles. He looks up at you, his soft bottom lip resting on your skin. Then he straightens, pats your hand, and smiles an annoyingly perfect, professional smile. “There,” he says. “Job well done?”

“As always,” you say, unsteady.

He breaks the tension by stepping away to fetch a towel. He dries his sweaty neck while asking more about your meeting with your father. You start complaining all over again, giving the punching bag another good slap. You rant about his usual tyrannical nonsense, but also complain about the graduation affair.

“They’re usually a big deal, yeah?” Felix asks. He is doing some cool-down exercises and you try to not to stare at him. “Why didn’t he want to go again?”

“Some stupid bullshit he parroted from his father, because he’s never had an original thought in his life,” you say. “It is a celebration of mediocrity. I will only attend your graduation from a valuable institution with an education that has been obtained through true work. As if he’s not paying to get me into university, and as if I won’t be walking out of there with a degree even if I sleep through every exam.”

Felix laughs in a humourless, distracted way. You look over and watch as he swings his water bottle up and catches it again.

“His father, huh?” he says. He shakes the water, absent-minded in his distraction. He walks backwards then takes a seat against the wall where he looks at you again. “This, uhhh, this everything in the family goes back far, huh?”

“Old money,” you say with an eye roll. You cross the room to join him on the floor. “Far enough.”

“Did you know him?”

“Who? My grandfather?” You slide down the wall and sit beside Felix, your shoulders touching. “Yeah, I mean, he died when I was about ten or eleven. You know him too.”

Felix looks at you in bewilderment and you laugh.

“He was the same as my father is now,” you explain. “If you know one, then you know the other.”

“That must have been…” Felix searches for the word but there is very little to sufficiently summarize that household.

“Yeah,” you say with a snort. “It was.” Your grandfather was a tyrant as sure as your father is now. You cannot say if he was worse, being so young when he ruled this household, but you remember he occupied the same untouchable sphere of power. Your grandfather looms in your memory as a grim figure as dark and intimidating as Mister Miroh. He was on the offense at all times, ambitious and striking out at whim. Your father, perhaps in response to his own father’s iron fist, has always acted on the defense, holed up in his castle and building his walls high to seal in everything of value. He attacks in retaliation or proactive defense.

Neither ever permitted being contradicted or disobeyed.

“I see,” Felix says. He looks like he wants to say more, brow still furrowed in contemplation, but then he just sighs and rests his head against the wall. “Are you sad about your graduation?”

“I just hope Hyunjin looked out for Jisung. He’s all I’m sad about.” Picturing your best friend in a corner of a ballroom with no one paying him any attention is too devastating to think about for long, especially knowing about his home life and how alone he felt before you.

You take a steadying breath.

“He just deserved better,” you say.

“So do you,” Felix says, only just above a whisper. He pats your knee and you react predictably, all your nerves alight beneath his hand.

But he does not linger long enough for that warmth to spread. You are not alone, after all. There are footfalls overhead and your father is tucked away in his office.

That night you have a bad dream. It is nothing so terrifying as a nightmare, featuring no guns or tyrant patriarchs. It is just a miserable dream.

You are at your graduation, wearing one of your many evening gowns. There is nothing so special about dressing up given your forced lifestyle, but the party is not about the gown or a date or anything else. You are looking for your friend. That is all you want, but you can’t find Jisung anywhere. You turn many corners, passing through the lengthy shadows of hotel hallways and school corridors, but there is an eerie emptiness to all of it. Finally you find a door, beaten and weathered. You step through knowing there is nothing fancy waiting on the other side of it.

You find yourself on the roof of a ramshackle house. Jisung is perched on the edge, dressed up in a blazer and tie but with his signature backwards cap. He is gazing up at the stars. You sit beside him, filled with so many things you want to say and yet nothing comes out. Time feels warped in your dream and you feel like you sit there for days, months, years, the sky dark, the world quiet.

“I’m sorry,” you finally say.

It feels unreasonable to ask for forgiveness, even if you did not willingly abandon him. You still feel the ache of guilt for having roped him into your life in the first place, but you feel especially guilty for not regretting those years. You do not want to live in a world where you never met him. To have never been someone, to have never known someone.

You know he feels the same way. He said as much during your goodbye.

In the quiet, he hugs you, wrapped up comfortably like that last night at his house.

Somehow that is the moment you become aware it is just a dream, that this is your own mind consoling you, but it is meaningful that your subconscious summons your best friend for that much-needed hug of reassurance.

It seems ridiculous that you, of all people, should think they have the best understanding of love, but perhaps it is the long absence of it that allows you to recognize when you have it. You have witnessed every elaborate gift and gesture in the world, but you are quite certain there is no grander demonstration of love than someone holding you for an hour with no other motive than to simply be there, seeing and being seen.

When you wake, it is with such an ache that you find yourself clutching your chest. Your uneven breathing wakes Felix. The moment he touches your shoulder, you roll into his arms and let yourself cry. He doesn’t ask what it is about, drawing any number of conclusions, but he holds you until your tears turn to sniffles then stop altogether.

You get drowsy in his arms. When he thinks you are asleep, he tries to lay you down on your side of the bed, but you are conscious enough to stir and cling to him. He laughs under his breath.

“Full house,” he whispers. “You need to sleep over there.”

You look at him morosely, blinking back tears. He sighs, letting his head droop, then he gives you a pointed look. You are surprised when he flicks his thumb over your bottom lip, drawing attention to the fact you are pouting.

“Told you,” he whispers.

“Hmmph.”

He rolls away but you follow, wrapping around him like a clingy koala bear. He chuckles and shakes his head, but lays on his back and allows you to rest your head on his chest. You nuzzle under his chin, hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat under your palm. He rests a hand over yours. When he breathes, you watch the rise and fall of those hands.

It is a comforting embrace. This bed has often felt like a world away from reality. You stare at those hands, his kind touch. You cuddle closer, secure with the weight of his arm around you.

It sets your brain in motion, compiling these feelings with everything he has told you and everything he has done.

Before you can stop yourself, before the insanity of such a statement dawns, you say, “Do you think we could make it if we ran away together?”

He goes very still, even his breath slowing. His heart beats a steady staccato under your hand.

“Felix,” you whisper.

“No,” he says, sharply, like the instinctive hiss of pain when unexpectedly struck. He shakes his head, coming back to himself. “No,” he says again, softer. His voice breaks as he lowers it to a whisper. “No, I’m sorry—I’m—I told you—you know it’s not that simple—”

You know he’s right. Felix is obviously very competent but he is still just one man, and your father would not let you slip through his fingers so easily. This is disregarding all the technical logistics of running away, like money and food and a place to sleep.

But a little cabin flashes across your mind and your argumentative side rears itself even though you know better.

“Maybe it is that simple,” you say. “He’s just one man—”

“He’s not just one man,” Felix says, sitting up. You slip through his arms, laying back and watching as he pushes a hand through his hair. “He is his business, and his… his world… and all the men like him…”

“And our lives?” you say. You sit up and put your hand on his back. “You said I deserved better but so do you. You aren’t selfish just because— Stop shaking your head—”

He does but he still looks away, exhaling sharply through his nose.

“It’s not—” He chokes on the word, swallows, then speaks again softly, “It’s not just my life.” He stares across the room, as if once more ensorcelled by some memory playing in the shadows. “Life,” he says, “in pieces and only for a little bit. I always remembered that, you know. That’s how you described it. That’s what I have. Being here. It’s more than—more than what I deserve. And what I—what I get—is a life worth more than mine—”

“Stop saying things like that,” you say miserably. You reach for his face but he turns away. “Do you have any idea,” you say with as much as emotion as you can fit in a whisper, “any idea how much my life has changed because of you, because of the way you are… Felix, you’re part of the good too.”

“You can’t—you can’t say things like that to me—”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll start to believe you.”

You touch his face and he lets you this time, eyes lifting to yours as you guide his face up. Your thumb brushes that dark constellation of freckles, your eyes searching the face you have woken to every morning for years now – the brown eyes, the dark brows, the wisps of blonde that dash across his forehead. Your thumb brushes the groove to his upper lip, then the bow of his lower lip.

You cup his jaw and tip your head, hoping your gaze reveals the words you cannot conjure. The walls close in around you again. All those nonsensical ideas make their escape, leaving you in the dark with him.

He holds your gaze, his consternation fading to a different sort of ache. Longing carves itself in his features, the disconsolate but nonetheless ardent hunger of someone starving at a table they cannot eat from. He lays his hand over yours, holding it against his face. Eventually he lowers it.

“I didn’t count them,” he says.

“What?” You blink to attention, confused by the seeming subject change. “Count what?”

“The, uhh…” His laugh is dry. He clenches his jaw and looks down at where he is holding your hand. “The people. The people I killed.” He keeps his gaze low, watching as he strokes his thumb across your knuckles. “Others counted them but I—I dunno… I didn’t need to. It comes back to me sometimes, yeah. Hair colours. Clothes. Last words. I didn’t need to… to write it down, to keep track. I just remembered. I still remember.”

Even before you saw him in action, you knew killing was in his past. It still feels different to have those suspicions confirmed, that there was that much violence in his youth, but you are not upset for the reasons he must think. You are only more sympathetic, curling your fingers around his and squeezing.

He won’t look at you.

“Felix,” you say. “You were a kid, and I don’t know where you were, I don’t know what they did to you, but that’s not your fault—”

“I was good at it,” he says. “I was the best. I thought I knew what I was, why I existed. Then things changed. Now I’m not that. I’m not anything else either. I have no right to be, yeah? Do you understand? I can’t walk away. It’s all in me and there’s nowhere to put it down. All I can do is this—this one thing. And honestly, I don’t even know if it is the right thing. I just know that if I go with you, that feels selfish. If I stay here, if I—I keep you trapped here because of me—that’s selfish too—”

“I’m not trapped because of you,” you say. “I would be here either way. If it wasn’t you here with me, it would just be someone else.” So I’m glad it’s you, you want to say, with no obfuscation and no exaggeration.

He interrupts, “I killed your grandfather.”

It is so unexpected that you freeze. You cannot help the way you lock up when truly startled, even if the fright is only momentary. Your body shuts down to protect itself.

Felix withdraws his hand immediately, sensing your coldness. You come back to yourself and look at him, though he still avoids your gaze.

“What?” you eventually manage. “You—”

“He was the target,” Felix says. “They tried to kill him before. Tried, and failed. There were casualties. Like your… like your mother.”

You look away too, chronicling everything he is describing. Your mother died when you were still in infancy and you were never told much more than that. You always thought it might have contributed to your father’s obsessive protection efforts, at least in part, but you could never be sure.

“He was…” Felix says. “He was like a monster, to me, growing up, like a… like a ghost story or something. They told us stories about him and men like him. About how some were so… so powerful… and couldn’t be killed by a regular person… Everything I did—all the killing—was—was justified to me, yeah? And he was the worst of all. And if we could get rid of him, then… then all the other bad would go away too.”

“But it didn’t,” you say, remembering the infallible creature of a man that was your grandfather, the same but different to your father. Things changed when he died, in a way. Your father’s defensive operations are contrary to the offensive strategy of your grandfather, but no less intense in application. You can see how an enemy might have looked at your father, a frightened man always on the defensive, standing in your grandfather’s shadows. You can see how they might have thought the empire might crumble without the iron fist ruling it.

“But it didn’t,” Felix says.

You have questions, so many questions. Was it all Miroh? What happened next? How did Felix end up here? Why does he stay? A million questions fly through your mind. The only one you manage to vocalize is, “Does my father know?”

Felix shakes his head.

The rest of your questions evaporate into nothing. Only a breath passes your lips. Felix is bent over, elbows on knees, shoulders hunched. He is staring at the ground.

“Felix,” you say, reaching for him. “Felix, I don’t blame you for anything.”

Grandfather, father, it’s all the same poison sloshing from the same spoiled glass. You would be here either way, only without Felix, his voice and his hands, his heartbeat under your palm. You cannot imagine the bleakness of that loneliness.

You lay a hand on Felix’s shoulder, wanting to say all this and more but at a complete loss for words.

There is a moment of quiet, then he says, “All this time.” It is barely more than a murmur, face still downturned. “You were right here. And they didn’t care, so I didn’t see you. I didn’t even look.”

You cup his face once more, guiding him upright. He comes without a fight but takes his time, like it is agony to meet your gaze. When those dark eyes locked with yours, a shaking breath leaves his lips, that aching expression returned to his face. You do not know what your own face is doing, all your masks fallen away, leaving something open and raw, wounded but wanting. You swipe your thumb over his cheek, the high point where his freckles cluster darkly, sweeping down to where they dim.

“You’re looking now,” you say.

You slide your hand around his head, into his hair, fingertips fluttering over his nape. He shivers and tips his head, naturally leaning into your touch. You remember seeing the scars that litter his chest, remember feeling the cuts on his back from your own father’s beatings. You remember all the nights he has held you. You remember every little tidbit of your life he has tried to rescue and give back to you despite his precarious position.

You are both in a terrible situation without the tools to truly navigate your way out. There are no rules for a situation like this, every choice a dangerous one. The only thing you know for certain is you are not alone.

“I’m afraid,” you say, “but I’m not afraid of you.”

He gazes at you for a long, thoughtful moment, then reaches to touch your face. Just his thumb, tracing from temple to chin. The tremble of his touch reveals more fear than his faint smile, all of it bound tightly in the tension that holds him together, the carefully restrained yearning for something bigger than this moment.

“Yeah, but I’m afraid of you,” he says on a breath of a laugh.

“Right,” you say, infused with all the light-hearted sarcasm as you can muster. “That’s me,” you say. “Scariest of them all.”

“You have no idea,” he says, still so sincerely. It is your turn to shiver, leaning into his touch as his thumb circles your chin. He smiles again, not his exaggerated toothy grins but a sweet, fond smile. “My job. My enemy.” His thumb presses on your mouth, gently parting your lips. A breath escapes with the race of your heart. “My sweetheart.”

“You’re just being mean now,” you say. “I hate you so much.” You hold the back of his neck and tug him close to you. Your noses brush, his breath colliding with yours. A simmering warmth is tingling under every inch of your skin, gathering hotly in intimate places. You scratch up the nape of his neck and he swallows hard.

“A kiss,” he says, a rough whisper. “Just one kiss. It’s too—we can’t—”

“One kiss,” you say, brushing noses again. “For now.”

His soft laugh warms you even before your lips touch. And a touch is all it is, lacking all the rushed dramatics of your first collision. Even though you’re not truly alone, even though danger encircles this room like a poisonous fog, this little world away from everything feels momentarily invulnerable.

You let your eyes close, surrendering to the gentle give-and-take of it all. You wonder what makes a kiss so addicting, and you wonder how you went this long abstaining, and you wonder how you could ever hope to go without it again.

You run your hands into his hair and pull his face close. He sinks into the kiss, sharing a gasp before kissing you again.

You feel dizzy with breathlessness but you don’t stop. You shiver when he cups your neck to control the movement of your head. Your excitement has you bobbing forward, but he holds you and gently tips your head, then he kisses you with a long, hot pull. When his tongue brushes your lips, you make a little noise and he very softly squeezes your neck, the only place he is touching, in warning. This only tempts another sound but you restrain yourself, if only just barely.

The kiss ends with a gasping breath. You rest your forehead against his for a long moment. Then you open your eyes only to close them when he descends, kissing your nose, your eyelids, your cheeks. His sigh feathers against your lips.

“More effective than a bullet,” he murmurs.

Surely, it is meant to be joking, sweet, flirtatious. But he looks at you with that deep-set longing. He draws his thumb from your temple to chin again. He tilts your head to kiss your cheek, closing his eyes like that innocent press is the greatest pleasure of his life. Your cheek still tingles when he pulls away.

He smiles then nods towards the top of the bed. Your heart skips a beat, but then he says, “Sleep now. No more bad dreams tonight, yeah?”

You feel tipsy, breathless still, so you don’t argue. You also do not look away from him. Your eyes are locked as you slide to your side of the bed and pull back the covers. He sits on the end, watching you. Eventually he lays down and looks at the ceiling, scrubbing a hand over his forehead. His mind is so clearly going a mile a minute.

“Don’t worry,” you say with a wave of your hand. “I still hate you.”

He shoves his tongue into his cheek to hold back the laugh, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. You just smile, then shrug, then turn your back to him for the night.

The summer passes in euphoric bursts and tiny agonies. There are days you and Felix are alone in the house, days when a calm settles between you even if all you do is sleep entangled, and there are days your father looms with all his threat and power, when Felix sensibly withdraws and you ache with the need for an intimacy that keeps you sane and human.

Felix is clearly torn between his own desires and the duty he has assigned himself. It is also apparent that he is still struggling to consider himself worthy of honest affection. You can see it in the way he stands, the way he looks at you, the way his shoulders tense when you so much as brush his shoulder. You have laid in his arms more than once, your faces so close that you are almost kissing. You run your fingers through his hair until the tension leaves his body and he lets himself slant towards you.

Please come to me, stay with me, you think.

This is another one of those things that cannot coast on accidents, on fleeting moments of lustful tension that would ultimately fizzle if not for the emotional strength propelling them. It is in that emotional undercurrent you must plant yourself deliberately if you want to feel anything, if you want to heal, and if you truly, completely want him.

Maybe you cannot leave, maybe that kind of rescue is impossible, but you form a haven of sorts between yourselves. You try to find the words to tell him he’s a person, that you want to be a person for him, a body under his hands and a heartbeat in the dark, but you can never find the right thing to say to fully liberate you from the cage closed around that room. The words touch your tongue and burn and suddenly you see every nightmare in front of you, every reminder of why this is dangerous. So you turn your back and say you hate him, even while a kiss on the shoulder is enough to fully unravel you.

The summer is busy, a popular season for parties and events, some your father hosts and some you are invited to attend. He drags you from place to place, with the rest of your spare time filled with advanced course work. It is a distraction if nothing else.

At the end of summer, your father calls you into his home office. It could be for a lecture, a demand, an argument he is itching to start. You do not know but you appear when summoned.

Felix is already there, sitting straight-backed in a small chair across from your father’s desk. There is an empty seat beside him.

He turns his head and looks at you, reminding you of the first moment you ever saw him. Some things are the same, but most things are different. You realize how much older he looks. He is still slender, still clean-shaven, still very pretty, but he is not a child anymore. He does not look ridiculous in his black blazer and tie, a holster under his jacket, a competent professional with a job to do. Uniforms used to make him look even younger, his face too wide and sweet for such a grown-up ensemble. He looked like a little boy playing dress-up.

He is not a little boy anymore. You look into his face as you approach, your eyes locked. His hair is long enough to tie into a little stub of a ponytail. You ran your fingers through that hair this morning, fluffing the soft ends, making him smile. You have kissed that pink bow of mouth, both roughly and softly. You know what he sounds like when overcome with pleasure.

You met years ago, two peculiar children with so much humanity beaten out of you. You realize just how much has grown back thanks to the slow but tender cultivation of your relationship.

It seemed like an impossible thought at the time. Now it seems like it was inevitable.

You take the empty seat beside him. You both look at your father. His hands are steepled on his desk, his attention rapt as it often is when meting out punishment. His smile is not encouraging to the contrary, as he will sometimes smile when administering his reprimands.

But then he says, “Congratulations, I am pleased.”

He shows you the transcript for your summer courses. Your grades are more than halfway decent despite your tumultuous year.

“You’ve worked hard to win back my favour,” he says. It is the kind of comment that would usually trigger your frustration, prompting a quick rebuttal that would quickly escalate. But you temper yourself, curling your fists in your lap. You force yourself to ignore his bating, to listen with as stoic a face as you can muster. Your father smiles, though it is strained. “In my persistent generosity, I have decided to reward this behaviour in the hopes of encouraging it will continue.”

He slides a folder across the desk, every encounter a business meeting when it isn’t a brawl. You take the folder and read through it, the frustration leaving your body as it is replaced with confusion then the vaguest flicker of hope.

“We are substantially removed from the university campus,” your father says. “I have decided that for the sake of convenience and your continued academic success that it would be more prudent to move you closer to the university until your degree is completed in a timely manner.”

“Move,” you say, trying to keep your voice level despite the fact it feels like your heart is trying to leap into your throat. “All of us? What about the house?”

“Just you,” he says. “And Felix, of course, to supervise you. The penthouse is secured with a high security system, not to mention armed doormen and a plethora of staff throughout the building. Between that and your bodyguard, you should be secure and thus able to complete your studies without any obstruction.” He thumps a hand on his desk, making you jump. “And I expect your grades to reflect that.”

You nod vigorously, staring down at the real estate listing of the penthouse apartment. You have only just begun to picture the possibilities of an uninterrupted life, however brief the interim, when your father speaks again.

“Felix,” he says. “You know what I expect of you.”

“Yes, sir,” Felix says with a curt nod.

“I will have it on record now,” your father says to you, “that I give Felix complete and full control of this arrangement. You will do what he says when he says it. I also grant him permission to use his own discretion to determine when and how to discipline you if you step out of line.”

“Oh,” you say, too stunned to add more.

“If he reports that you are making things difficult in any capacity—”

“I won’t,” you say. “I’ve been good all summer!”

Other than last night when you snuggled up to Felix and started kissing his neck. It was chaste, a momentary touch, but then a sweet, low sound rumbled in his throat. Naturally, you did it again, then once more, your lips a little wetter and more open each time. He eventually had to pry you off him with a warning look, but he could not fully stamp down his smile when you giggled at him.

“Felix,” your father says, disregarding your retort. “You have my permission to do what you must to keep her in line.”

“Yes, sir,” Felix says, dropping his head in a respectful bow.

“So what do I have to do get disciplined around here?”

“Stop,” Felix says, even while obviously amused, a smile tugging at his lips. “They’re still here.”

You giggle and look over his shoulder where your father’s men are moving the last few things into the apartment. One of them collects Felix to show him the workings of the security system, which Felix quickly learns with his all technological skills.

You play the part of demure daughter, quietly moving from room to room as your father’s men assemble your life according to his directions. You did not get to organize much of anything, but you don’t care. A wall is a wall, a bed a bed. But these walls offer privacy. That bed is a new haven.

It is just you and Felix.

Eventually the men leave, one by one. The move began in the morning, but it is late evening by the time Felix closes the door on the last departure. You wait while he does his security check, in the sitting area, standing at the floor-to-ceiling window that boasts a beautiful city skyline view. The outside of the window is a mirror, concealing your privacy, but you get to enjoy the twinkling city lights, the bustling world below that offers so much possibility. It is very different than your view back home, of a perfectly manicured and perfectly stagnant garden, the mansion isolated on a hill with no other souls for miles.

You remember your first night alone with Felix, how empty that house felt. Now when Felix joins you, the apartment feels full. It is brimming with life.

You look at him as he turns on a lamp, brightening the dim room with a cozy golden glow. The whole room feels warm. It is not eerie and empty like that house. You were living in a mausoleum of wealth, rotting away with distractions and half-living in what little remained. You feel golden and alive, now, here, with him.

He clears his throat. He was staring back at you, his regard as intense as yours. He turns aside now, peeling off his uniform blazer. He starts talking about dinner, suggestions for this and that, something about school, about going to campus tomorrow and finding your way around. A hundred topics, more distractions.

You say nothing so he continues to fill the silence with empty chatter. He uses his friendliest voice, though your thoughts are not merely friendly when you watch him unholster his gun, when he fiddles with the harness around his chest and pulls it free. He puts everything on the coffee table and sits on the couch, pretending to be very occupied with organizing it. He checks his gun as if something could be wrong with it, nimble fingers flicking through its mechanisms as he checks its assembly.

You sit beside him on the couch, watching him fiddle with it.

He says something about something. Asks a question, maybe. He is not really looking for an answer. You think his heart might be beating just as fast as yours, even though his hands are steady and his gaze is resolute.

“It doesn’t really matter what I want,” you say in a voice, sighing dramatically. “My dad says you’re in charge of me anyway, right?”

He clips the gun shut and puts it on the table. He looks at it for a minute, then exhales.

“Are we doing that now?” he asks dryly.

“I dunno, are we?” you ask, shuffling a little closer to him. He looks at you sideways then shakes his head. He puts his hands on his knees and strums his fingers. “Are you saying I can do what I want?” you ask.

“Uhh, that depends,” he says. Another strum. “What do you want?”

“A kiss.”

He looks at you, those dark eyes narrowed, his expression one of warning.

“Just one,” you say, batting the eyelashes that are apparently more persuasive than torture. He swallows and you smile. “Just one is fine, right?”

“You said just one a few times ago now,” he says dryly.

“No, you said that,” you say with an innocent smile. “I said just one for now. But now I’m saying just one, because I’m going to be a good girl.”

“Oh.” He looks amused now, nodding. “Are you? Really? Wow.”

“No sarcasm required, thank you,” you say. “I’m trying to avoid being disciplined, after all.”

His mouth draws into a thin line. He looks away and cracks his knuckles distractedly.

“Just one,” he finally says.

“Yes.” You nod and smile sweetly. “Just one.”

That one kiss lasts forty minutes. First you are side by side on the couch, the blue evening night outside the window colliding with the golden glow within. That blue light fades to black before long, but that golden warmth stays glowing. Heat similarly rises between you, soft pecks against soft lips turning to open-mouthed kisses that beg and satisfy with each deep touch.

He holds your face in both his hands when you tremble, keeping you steady, letting you melt into him. He moves when you tug at his shoulders, mutely imploring as you lay back on the couch, though he holds himself well above you, maintaining distance.

When his arms get tired, he lays back. He lets you crawl on top of him, and sighs, giving in, holding the back of your neck as you wrap your arms around him. You kiss again, wet and hot and hungry, losing time and sense.

You kiss until it shows, when his whole mouth is pink and his skin is flushed and he can barely keep his eyes open with the dreamy intoxication of it all. You are straddling his waist, hands on his chest, his holding your waist. A breath breaks the kiss when you settle right above where he is hard, the ridge of him in his denim fitting between your open thighs. You are wearing jeans too but the thick material does nothing for true modesty.

You settle there against him, fitting like perfectly slotted halves of a whole. His brow creases, a truly tortured expression that pours into bliss when he yields to desire. He holds your hips, keeping you there against him, and goes back to kissing you with long, slow presses, eyes closed and the occasional breath gentle.

Your fingers are in his hair, stroking at his nape. Lovely low sounds slip into his sighs. You can feel how desperately turned on and wanting you are, clenching around nothing if he so much as shifts. You imagine laying here like this with him inside you, not moving much, lazily kissing and joined together like you have all the time in the world. The very thought has you clenching again, whimpering into his mouth. It sounds a little pained so he strokes your back, under your shirt, making you shiver very noticeably.

“Are you okay?” he asks, with a completely shot voice, rough and low.

“Mhm,” you say. Words take a long time to come back to you. “Just… thinking…”

“About?”

“If we were kissing…”

“We are kissing,” he says with a chuckle, tracing circles on your spine

“And,” you say, pointedly, and press your knees into his hips. “If you were inside me while we did it.”

That makes his hand pause. Then he thunks his head back hard and fast, missing the cushion and hitting the arm of the couch. His eyes close and his face scrunches, newfound pain adding to his present torture, all of it making you giggle.

“You keep doing that,” you say, remembering him hitting his head in the car too.

“That’s because you…” He can’t even finish, he just makes a pained noise and shakes his head. It makes you laugh a little more, biting your own bruised lip as you look down at him. He cracks one eye open, his cheeks dimpling with the tug of a smile. He slides his hand far up your back, thumb finding the band of your bra and skirting it, then diving back down to your spine to settle just above your ass. “If I was inside you,” he says softly, “we would not just be kissing.”

It is your turn for a pained noise, hiding your face in his neck while he laughs.

“You can’t say things like that,” you whine. “That’s just mean.”

“Mhm.” He gives your ass a pat, making you wriggle on top of him. “Okay,” he says breathlessly. “That was one kiss. Or something. I think we’re done.”

“You’re the wooorst,” you say as he sits up. “I hate you so much. You’re so evil. You’re so sick and twisted—”

He just laughs, patting your sides and shaking his head. You only stop complaining when he kisses your nose, a sweet little peck. His smile is tender. He touches your cheek.

“Say it again,” he says.

“What? I hate you? Fine. There. I hate you.”

“One more time?” he teases, cupping your jaw, kissing your neck when you try and speak again. Your words get garbled and he laughs, shaking his head. “That’s what I thought,” he says. “Now up. I’m in charge. It’s time for dinner.”

“I can give you something to eat—”

“Up.” His tone is stern but he is still smiling. “Don’t be trouble.”

“Me?” you say. “When have I ever been trouble? I’m perfect.”

“Of course you are,” he says dryly. “I don’t know why I worried.”

“Exactly,” you say, running your fingers through his hair. Your eyes are locked, your smiles soft. You kiss his nose. “And I’m just getting started.”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #lee felix smut #lee felix x reader #felix x reader #skz x reader

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damianbugs · 1 year

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If you r still doing the fic recs, what are some good Bruce and Jason ones? I'm going insane

HELLO. oh my gosh. you know, since exam month has officially begun, i should be studying, but like, why would i do that when i could be doing this instead? this is like. so much more productive for my happiness.

it's no secret i am not normal absolutely totally insane about bruce and jason and OF COURSE i will rec you fics of them. i have 150+ bookmarks of fics just centred around them so i really tried to narrow it down to a few of my favourites. if you ever need anymore please ask again!

what a truly disastrous tragedy they are. the blueprint i fear. no fictional father and son has impacted me more. jason and bruce fic writers lace their works in crack because once you read one, you are stuck forever. there is no escape. trust me. anyways!

BRUCE AND JASON FIC RECS

don't take your guns to town by kreestar

batman comes home from a night patrolling to find a 10 year old jason todd waiting for him in his kitchen. across gotham, at the same time, red hood is stopped by a 25 year old bruce wayne.

MY NOTES: no one is surprised at all that the first fic on this list is time travel. the characterisation in this was insanely good especially between young bruce and jason i loved their parts. so bittersweet and the ending was lovely!

I Will Always Be There For You by squashflower

There's a closet in the manor that locks you inside. It has no lighting or heating or air conditioning of any kind, and Jason, safe to say, wishes he could burn it to the ground. Or shoot it. One of the two.

MY NOTES: there is just something so good about stories where it switches from robin jason to an experience mirrored by red hood jason and this is the perfect example. so so good.

all the small weights by sparkycap

When Batman gets hit with fear toxin, he worries about his Robins. His Robins think it's their job to deal with it. Jason wasn't aware anyone still included him in that group, but according to Tim, he's the only one available.

MY NOTES: fear toxin the trope that keeps on giving. best thing about this though is that the actual fear toxin is not the main part of the story, and i think it was handled so beautifully and maturely in a way i haven't seen before. i cried (twice).

-> just an aside, but i think you should read the other bruce and jason work by this specific writer. they're all insanely good.

Mermaid Tears by minnow_doodle_doo

And if real mermaid tears were what Jason wanted the world to have, Bruce would make Aquaman cry glass.

MY NOTES: teehee sorry for recommending ur own fic in ur ask minnow but this fic is just so sweet and special i need everyone to read it. a wonderful look into that all encompassing love bruce had for jason when things were much simpler for them.

Aftermath by ivy_and_ivory

Now: Batman is in Paris, pulled there by a case that extends beyond Gotham’s borders, when circumstances lead him to a badly injured Red Hood – who might hold the key to Batman’s investigation.

Then: The Red Hood storms into Gotham, begins to stake his claim on the criminal underground, then abruptly disappears – but only after he breaks into Arkham Asylum and leaves the Joker dead in his own cell.

Or: A study of why Bruce couldn’t kill the Joker, what would happen if someone else could – and how you move on from the aftermath.

MY NOTES: you know when you find a fic and you're just like. oh my god. this is it. this is exactly what i wanted. this is all that matters. yeah. that's this fic to me. im sort of obsessed with the idea of batman bonding with red hood without making the direct connection that it's jason.

A Straight Blade by Sparkypants

"What happened to your face?" Bruce asks, reaching his hand for Jason's jaw. "You're bleeding." Jason bristles, cheeks turning pink. "I cut myself shaving." He says, and wipes at the cut with the cuff of his hoody. Damian makes a clicking noise with his tongue, "I'm amazed you haven't taken your own head off." He snarks. Jason shoves his chair away from the table, temper flaring. "Well it's not like anyone ever taught me, is it." He hisses. He's five years late, but Bruce finally teaches Jason how to shave.

MY NOTES: i am so okay so normal about this fic. such a sweet little happy story but i was literally looking down at my screen squinting through my blurry vision because i was tearing up. the unknowing domestic simplicities of being father and son (hysterical sobbing)

Stargazer by LemonadeGarden

Jason Todd is seriously injured during patrol one night, and is forced to stay at the manor to recuperate until his injuries are healed. To pass the time, he makes a list of things he never got to do before he died. Except there's one small problem: most of them involve Bruce, and Jason doesn't really think Bruce cares all that much about him anymore. This is a story about how wrong he is, but I made it sad anyway.

MY NOTES: okay so i think the best way to end this post is with the first ever bruce and jason centric work i ever read that changed the chemicals in my brain forever. THIS is the fic that made me really latch onto their relationship and want to see that reconciliation and recovery. THE roadtrip fic ever.

#bruce wayne #jason todd #oh how they r so important #batfamily fic recs #saki batfam fic recs #batman #red hood #robin ii

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onlyseokmins · 1 year

Text

a tiger's dominion [2] • k.s.y.

"Some days you tame the tiger, and some days the tiger has you for lunch."

Pairing: kwon soonyoung x afab!reader Genres: porn with PLOT (minors dni!), camstars!au, university!au, best friends/idiots!au, goofy comedy, cheesy fluff, and angst Warnings: cam shows and camera sex obv, swearing, me thinking I'm funny, sex toys, alcohol, food, gym/exercises (reader works out), innuendos, perv behavior from everyone ngl, boob obsession, switch!Hoshi and reader, light-hearted threats, denial of feelings and lots of advice, subpar communication, spicy shower time, insecurity, lots of pet names, mentions of dacryphilia, fingering (fem. receiving), nipple pinching/pulling, slapping, spanking, crying after sex bc it feels good, lil bit of pain/temp play, multiple orgasms, grinding, dry (wet) humping, thigh riding, slight ab riding, face-sitting, slight punishment (?), nasty and messy 69, marking, slight possession, titty job, squirting, spit play, cum-eating, and it's just WET MESSY SEX FILTHY GRRR with a touch of sleepy after-care WC: 21.3k A/N: finally!!!!!!!!!!! the long awaited part 2!! this is such a huge labor of love for me despite the many hurdles, i am so proud and happy to post it finally! i would like to give a huge thank you to @duhnova and @onlymingyus for doing the big deed of beta'ing for me. without their help this would be an even worse mess ajdkfs <3 so so appreciated and a big thank you to the anons, readers, and kind blogs that left so many nice tags on the first part, i hope you enjoy the continuation just as much and look forward to the finale!!

➯ a tiger's dominion ◇ [teaser] ◇ [part 1]

Seokmin's a safe bet.

He's clumsy, awkward, and kind of weird enough to distract people from the fact that he is absurdly handsome and his endearing nature easily melts everyone's heart. You like Seokmin a lot, you really do.

Plus, he's a taken man, and that makes it even better for him to be the one to drive you out to the repair shop. The same one that he was ever so kind in recommending to help you save money.

Seokmin's best boi.

But you kind of wish he would shut up.

"You're telling me that the guy you've had the hots for — mind you, for eons — admits to jerking off to your sexy videos… and all you say in response is 'great'?"

You cross your arms in defense, thankful the car's stopped at a red light when he throws his hands up in the air in disbelief. "What was I supposed to say? And it has not been eons."

"As long as I've known you, you've liked him. And that has been many, many, many years."

"We've been friends for a little over two, Seok. Besides… it's not like I 'like' him like that entirely."

Lee Seokmin. Better known to some as Dokyeom or DK. He's a fan-favorite and still rated number one on Svthub's audio porn section despite the sudden "retirement" announcement a couple of months ago. You're more familiar with the joint viewer account he shares with his girlfriend though — deathbyd1cks — and the expensive gifts they love to send.

They taught you a lot about the streaming world. The do's-and-don'ts. How to gain and maintain viewership, safety, and money. You hadn't expected to end up with mentors (turned sugar daddy and mommy, let's be honest) when you'd messaged his girlfriend — who was single at the time — for advice. Neither had you anticipated being the leading factor in pushing them to confess their feelings for one another.

Nor could you have guessed they were locals attending the downtown city's university, not too far from your own. But here you were and boy — were you grateful to them. Because they were now dear friends. Although you saw Seokmin in person a lot more than you were able to see his girlfriend lately, as his schedule this semester was much freer than hers. Hence why he was the solo figure driving you out today.

"I can't wait to watch this stream," Seokmin mumbles as he excitedly taps his fingers against the steering wheel. "If you're already super dick-drunk now, imagine what's gonna happen when the real thing's in front of you. I'm tingling!"

You scowl. "Why are you more excited about this than I am? And I am not dick-drunk!"

"Because you're gonna see his dick — that you're totally drooling over — in the flesh… speaking of which, you're both all tested and clean, right?"

"It's not like I don't already know about ninety percent of his sexscapades as it is." You roll your eyes at the reproachful tone he uses when saying your name. "Yes, of course, he sent me his latest results and everything's fine. And you already know about me."

You hear him hum in agreement. His girlfriend really likes you — so much that she even offered to invite you to become part of a potential threesome. Not even for a camera act but out of pure (as pure as you can get with that kind of request) intent.

Of course, you declined though. As much as you loved them and were flattered by becoming somewhat of their sugar baby, you had rather strict rules on engaging in any sexual activities with your friends. Or anyone for that matter. Regardless of how tempting.

Until now.

Your head thumps against the headrest of the seat. "Why the fuck am I doing this to myself?"

"Doesn't have to be this agonizing. From the vibes I'm getting, he's into you. Definitely thinks you're attractive."

"This isn't some fanfic where the best friends fuck and there's this grand reveal that they've had mutual feelings for one another all this time."

"You don't know that."

"Don't make me question reality, Seokmin — my problems are real and there's no way there's some silly little author out there with their evil mind deliberately making me go through all this shit."

His shoulders reach his ears as he shrugs. "Maybe we're all just some god's little playthings in the grand scheme of the universe."

"You're literally so irritating when you get philosophical and ambiguous. Revoking your friend rights." When he simply snickers, unaffected by your empty threats, all you can do is shake your head. "I don't want to go off of vibes. And I don't want him only liking my body. I know, I know — as cliche as that sounds, you've got to understand where I'm coming from."

"You want his heart."

You purse your lips as the autobody shop comes into view. "I actually… don't want anything. It's better for everyone that way. Besides, he still has that date this week."

"Ouch," Seokmin winces at that as you get out. Rolling down the window, he calls out to you. "Still rooting for the best outcome, though. You know we've always got your back no matter what!"

A fake smile and thumbs-ups are all he gets before you wave goodbye. Once the car has disappeared down the gravel road, you turn and approach the open garage door. Jeon's Repairs looks like something out of a horror film. A creaky building covered in dust and located out in the middle of nowhere.

Maybe if you were murdered out here, it would be better. But you know that's not going to happen.

"Hello?"

"Hiiii!!!!!"

It's just as much of a shock as the first time when you see the six-foot-two mechanic wave energetically as he stands up to full height next to the open car hood he was bent over. A thin, white wife-beater is barely able to properly cover his large chest muscles. The minuscule shirt is basically ruined from oil spills coating it, the shiny amounts of perspiration from the hard manual labor he performs, and various upper body sinew bulging as he moves.

"Hey, Mingyu. How're you?"

He sweeps back the curly bangs that fell out of his man bun and shoots you a dazzling smile. "Right as rain, like always, Sugar. Your car is too. Fixed 'er up and she's runnin' like brand-spankin' new! You'll be ridin' a beast in the streets for sure."

Mingyu's a funny guy. You already like him and this is only the second time you've met. That's why you can't help but tease him back with a mischievous smile.

"How do you know my car's a girl?"

"Ah," he walks over to the stall where your car sits and you follow, eyebrows raising at the affectionate slap he gives to its side before leaning against the front, thick and muscular arms crossed. "'Cause I know my way best around the ladies. Always get them makin' the prettiest noises for me jus' right."

"Don't let him lie to ya, sweet stuff." The new tone you hadn't heard the last visit makes your eyes widen at the new visitor's entrance. Long legs on perfect display with short denim shorts and a white tank somehow even scantier than Mingyu's. They send you a saucy wink. "Why don'tcha tell the truth 'stead of bein' a creep, Gyu?"

"Sorry, Bun." When Mingyu grins this time, it's all teeth. "Not tryna steal your thunder or anythin'."

"'sides, if anyone knows their way 'round women, ya know who's best 'tween us."

"Although it's true Bunny is our star mechanic and a star at… other things, you're embarrassing me." The door to the office opens and the man in charge steps out, peeking at all of you with a stern gaze over his wire-rimmed glasses. "I apologize for their antics, it's a pleasure to see you again."

He greets you formally with a handshake that you return. "The pleasure's all mine, Mr. Jeon."

"Wonwoo is fine, 'Mr. Jeon' sounds like you're addressing my father."

"Wonwoo it is then. You can call me by my first name as well and please, it doesn't bother me whatsoever, my good friend is much worse, I assure you."

"Gyu said you're friends with MinMin."

"Uh, Seok… min? Yeah, he spoke highly of here."

"He's always been such a good boy." You would wholeheartedly agree but the way they say it almost hints at something else. "Dare I say it's a shame he's now hitched. Or prolly soon to be."

"Hey," Wonwoo calls their name warningly even as he's busy cross-checking your total but they don't pay him any mind. "Seok told us — "

Nor to Mingyu who is elbowing them not so discreetly in the side. "He also told us not to — "

"We're streamers!" they exclaim excitedly, interrupting both men. "Well… we were. Kinda hard to set shit up when yer out here fuckin' like — haha, bunnies all the time, ya know?"

The boss now refuses to look up from the papers he's writing but his partners' two pairs of sparkly eyes with matching, mischievous grins beam at you. Your cheeks burn at their openness but you do smile back.

"I see."

Flawless (despite the grimy work conditions) French manicured nails tap excitedly along your wrist before pulling you in close. "Don't worry, Seokminnie didn't say anythin' but ya know how ya can tell when he knows somethin'? So, we did some deducin' and detectin'. And we're sooooo excited for yer collab!"

"Ah, thank you? I didn't know I had such... enthusiastic supporters here."

"Friends can always be found in the most unsuspectin' of places!"

"Truly, um… I hope you didn't give me a discount or something just because of that."

You chew on your lip out of concern because your car looks polished like brand new and you're sure it'll run great — even better — as Mingyu declared. All of that for the price deducted from your bank account almost seems unfair to them. In fact, you could return most of the sum Soonyoung had given you, perhaps rendering the collab null.

Except he'd already made an announcement on the forum page and then accidentally locked himself out of his account for forty-eight hours. And the post is still up for a ton of people to see and share around the community. Your notifications are blowing up — some in excitement, others jealous — but all in anticipation. Evident from the fact that the people way out here in the countryside with spotty internet knew about it.

And you hated letting people down. Or thinking you chickened out.

Wonwoo finally unfreezes to refute and shakes his head adamantly. "No, our pricing is standard as always so please don't worry about any illegal or favorable treatment."

"Good, 'cause I don't think I can afford to go to court," you laugh.

"It's only fun if yer on a reality TV show, hon. We don't intend to go to court unless we're on one 'n it's guaranteed we can win the case."

"Remind me to never get on your bad side, then."

"Oh, sweetheart — all I have are good sides." They turn in place, swaying and showing off the best parts of their assets.

Mingyu wolf-whistles while you clap along politely and Wonwoo takes that opportunity to sidle up to you, returning your credit card, keys, and receipt. You thank him and he nods, subtly gesturing to follow him outside.

"It was a pleasure doing business with you. Hopefully, you'll consider coming back again if you need any more fixer-uppers. As long as the crew didn't scare you away."

"They didn't, I think they're lovely."

He regrettably looks over his shoulder and you peek along. Trying your hardest not to laugh at the scene of Mingyu having whipped out an expensive camera from who-knows-where and is now snapping shots of their partner dancing.

"Yeah, they are. They just get really excited meeting new people, especially fellow streamers."

"So, it's true, you used to stream?"

A wicked smile is shot your way. "Sure did. But watching is just as fun, if not more. Especially with folks as excitable as them."

"Oh, I'm sure you get into lots of trouble."

"You couldn't even imagine."

"I can't."

Wonwoo clears his throat after that comment. It's not surprising that he's good at picking up on things and reading the room. A nice expectation when you're in any type of relationship, especially given his shared dynamic. After a drawn-out goodbye with the lively throuple, you finally slide into the driver's seat of your car to leave.

The ride back to the city in relative silence allows your thoughts to wander. It's true. You couldn't imagine such a relationship filled with laughter, trust, and positivity. Now you're sure it wasn't perfect, obviously. But that's probably where a good amount of open, clear communication helps fix whatever issues arise.

It seems like something out of a fairy tale. Just as you told Seokmin, a fanfiction plot built to accommodate its main characters and their perfect story.

You're not sure what role you're destined to live out and honestly, you don't care. You're goofy, impulsive, damaged, insane, and doing the best you can. That should be enough in this wretched world, right?

Although you decide it's not enough for you personally and make the split-second decision at the stoplight to pull into the parking lot of Limbo. Your favorite supply shop for some much-needed stress relief and serotonin boost.

"Welcome to Limbo, where our prices are as low as they go, and our products will — oh, heya!"

"Hey, Jun."

The welcoming slogan is always cut short when Junhui's on the clock and you walk inside. As the owner, he's all too familiar doing business with you. He might even consider the two of you as more than acquaintances. Friends maybe. Dropping the customer service routine, the attractive blonde smirks at you with raised eyebrows and leans against the counter.

"And what can I do for my favorite customer?"

"It's not good to play favorites."

"Who says I'm playing?"

You roll your eyes. "As the biggest playboy I've ever met, when are you not?"

"Touché," he laughs and quickly stops the fake flirtatious act. "Honored to be pulling more bitches than your furry 'boy friend'."

"I don't have a dog so you have to be talking about… why is everyone bringing him up today? You know he's not my boyfriend!"

"Because someone tends not to realize how much they overshare and don't worry, dearest. I know that foolish boy hasn't made a move on you yet, hence the air quotes. Shame on him."

"Don't talk about it," you mumble, "and he's not a furry. He genuinely thinks he's a tiger. Maybe that's how he's able to pull new dates out of his ass all of the time without a tail plugging it." When Junhui erupts into more manic laughter, you cross your arms. "Just tell me what you've got new in stock, please. It's the only reason I'm here."

"Of course, of course. Let's see — ah, do you know how revolutionary this is?"

You dubiously eye the large cardboard box he pulls out and starts waving around. "A… card game?"

"Bingo," he snaps his fingers, "except a hundred times better. It demonstrates the best way to find the clit through an interactive and compelling game!"

"Why are you showing me this? I know where the clit is."

"Congratulations! But not everyone does, do you think your friend can find it? Maybe you can buy it for him."

"How are you still in business, your sales pitch is terrible," you complain with half a mind to strangle said salesman right then and there. Your eyes drift over to what's behind him on the wall, eyes widening with the ideas suddenly flowing through your head.

"I thought we were besties, I just wanted to show off goods that aren't attached to my body." Junhui pouts, albeit good-naturedly but you're not paying attention anymore — despite his next words. "Perhaps, you can be the one to educate him."

When you don't respond sardonically as expected, he follows your zoned-out gaze with a questioning brow raised. Meanwhile, Mingyu and Wonwoo's partner's kind words before you'd left play over in your mind.

"First non-solo stream, eh?"

"Oh, um. Yeah."

"A word of unsolicited advice, darlin'? Enjoy yourself. Make it fun. The feelin's can figure themselves out after, yeah?"

After you'd assured them their advice was very much welcomed and that you appreciated another steadfast supporter you know in-person, you'd exchanged numbers. Now, their final parting words before driving off echo in your ears like a haunting siren's call. Bidding you to do its will. Your neck heats up, remembering their mischievous smirk and saucy wink.

"I didn't peg you for someone into collars and leashes."

You're snapped out of your hazy thoughts. "Well, don't because you so aren't. Ever."

"Yeah, yeah. Well, I would have thought you were someone who'd prefer these more," Junhui snickers wickedly, an atrocious set of fuzzy pink handcuffs he'd pulled out from under the counter dangling off his pointer finger. "A more hands-off, no touching approach."

The vision that scandalously pops into your mind is quickly dispelled. Banished even. So you refute by lying and saying, "It's not cuffing season."

"Oh, you're down bad. So bad." He shrugs. "Think of it as a bonus then." You watch in mild horror as he also throws them in a plastic bag. "I'll even give them to you free of charge. So, what color do you think will compliment your boy toy best?"

"He's not my — " You close your eyes, taking a deep breath and trying again not to think too hard. "Any will do. Just give me black… oh, and that too."

A wolf whistle. "Someone's in for a treat. Or trick. Something."

"I will literally cry if you say another unnecessary comment."

"Luckily for you, dacryphilia isn't really my thing. Yet."

"Oh my god!"

"All I'm saying is, this'll be some good shit."

"Do not — and I repeat, do fucking not — make me commit murder in broad daylight, Jun."

"Alright, alright," he holds his hands up in surrender, biting back the endless jokes and puns that always threaten to roll off of his tongue. Instead, he changes the subject to something you're less likely to kill him over. "If things get boring, tedious, heart-wrenching — text me. I can set you up for some decent mixers!"

"By my stupid luck, you'll be the only one who shows up."

"If you wanted to date me so bad, all you had to do was ask." He takes the credit card from your iron grip and swipes it with ease while batting his eyelashes at you. "Tempting but no thanks, darling. Though trust me when I say I have tons of acquaintances who know how to have a good time. And get down and dirty if you'd like."

"I don't even want to date you but… I'll think about those mixers," you concede and grab your purchases. Given the nature of his job, it's obvious he has all kinds of connections. "See you around."

When the little chime marks your farewell and you step back outside, you're not sure how much of a stress reliever that even was. The back of your head hits the headrest of the seat with a defeated thump once you're inside your car.

Damnit, Junhui!

Peeking inside the bag with a grimace, you toss it onto the passenger's side. What were you even thinking? The buzz of a phone halts you. The name belonging to the very bane of your existence flashes across the screen.

"Hello?" It's silent. The line crackles and you think he might have just butt-dialed you until a desperate call of your name comes through via a different but not unfamiliar voice. "Oh, hi there, Chan. Please don't tell me a certain someone's in trouble."

"I'm so sorry to bother you but… yes. He's um… very, very, very intoxicated."

You glance at the clock on your dash with a frown. "At this hour?"

"We went out for a lunch break and he ordered a drink. Maybe two…"

"Oh, no. Why? He knows he can't handle liquor at all, especially at restaurants and bars."

"Like it was great to go out for a good time since he's seemed out of it. And we did try to stop him but…"

"You're not his babysitter."

"Yeah." You both fall silent. You're mentally cursing Soonyoung for embarrassing himself in front of his junior dance team. As their captain, no less. At least Chan had experienced this too many times. Unfortunately. "Um, and… he won't stop talking about you so… I thought the next best bet was to call you."

Your blood runs cold. "Is he saying weird things?"

"N-no… of course, not! You know how he gets."

Soonyoung's more of an emotional, lovey-dovey drunk than a secret spiller but maybe you have too much faith in him, judging by Chan's rushed and uncertain response.

"Yeah, I do," you sigh, "where are you?"

"We were at his place and tried to get him to go inside but," — "no, stop trying to kiss me!", someone in the background shouts in protest — "um, sorry but anyways, he keeps insisting to come see you. And none of us knew if you were home or not."

You can hear the drunken slur of your name clearer now and assume Soonyoung is getting all up in Chan's business while he's on the phone. Possibly to say hello to you.

"I'm out right now — "

"Oh oops, sorry! I'll try and get him to calm down — "

"Wait, so you're at his place?" you rush to ask after he accidentally cut you off.

"Well," he lowers his voice as best he can, "we're just driving around with the excuse that he'll think we're taking him to see you."

"Okay." Glancing around the parking lot you're in, you know you would die before admitting to the young, up-and-coming dance crew member that you were anywhere near a sex toy store. "How about we meet at my place? I'll be back home in about fifteen?"

He agrees readily, apologizing once more with a guilty tone at having to bother you. Soonyoung being a chaotic drunk doesn't occur as often as one might think but when it does happen — it's always an experience to remember. And somehow you and Chan always seem to be the victims of circumstance when shit goes down.

"I'm… I'm really sorry about this."

"Don't be. If there's anyone that has to apologize, it should be the one that caused the situation in the first place." You attempt to lessen the intensity of your glare when facing the younger man. "Unfortunately, that will have to be after he sobers up."

Chan shuffles his feet, cheeks dusting a light pink because he's not sure where exactly to look. After dragging his senior's body out of the car when he'd arrived at your place and then lugging him up to the door, the inebriated man completely melted right onto you and is now intimately nuzzling at the crook of your neck. All while you remain expressionless, arms crossed above Soonyoung's that embrace you.

Something gnaws at the young man, telling him that this is a bad idea. "Um, are you sure you don't want me to take him back? Drive around a few blocks before he passes out?"

"Wasting more gas in this economy? Don't worry about it… besides, he doesn't deserve to wake up by himself with the sun shining through his window and birds singing now, does he?" Your rather menacing tone causes Chan to instinctively step back to leave until you blurt out, "Oh wait!"

"Yeah?"

"You said that this buffoon kept talking about me, right? What kinds of things did he say this time? Y'know, wanna make sure it wasn't slander or something gross."

Being buried six feet under would be much better than ratting out his mentor or becoming the victim of your misplaced wrath. "Ummm… he said you have pretty… eyes, yeah! Pretty eyes!" When you blink them once — twice — Chan uses that as his cue to escape with a rushed "See ya!", taking two steps at a time to scramble back in the car with his friends.

Pretty eyes, my ass, you think to yourself and glower at the man clinging helplessly to your side.

Slamming the door shut a little too harshly causes Soonyoung to flinch and nestle impossibly closer to you. His clumsy hands knead the skin below your breasts, innocently inching a little too high for comfort. Gripping at the strands on the back of his head, you tug him away only to grimace at the inappropriate moan that escapes his mouth.

"Shut up."

"I… said nothin'?"

"Yeah, well. I've heard enough already," you snap and urge him forward until he topples onto the couch headfirst. "What's got you acting up like this?"

His eyes have stayed squinted this whole time even in the dim area of your living space, a perpetual frown on his puffy red face. It's cute even if he looks like he might cry. Although a closer glance and being all too familiar with his drunken habits, you think he might actually be on the brink of tears.

"…me."

"Hm?"

"You been… 'voiding me."

"No, I haven't."

"'course, that's what you think."

"I've been busy."

"'s what you always say."

"Do not," you argue. As a point, you stare directly into what you can see of his dilated pupils only inches away from those pursed lips of his to fluff the pillow on his right. "Had to pick up my car and everything. It hasn't been that long since you've seen me."

"No texts?"

"I'm not on my phone twenty-four-seven."

"Liar. Going without me."

"You wouldn't have even known where the place was. It was in the middle of nowhere and recced by a friend."

"You have friends?"

You sigh in defeat. "Yes, I do, Soonyoung. Whatever, it's not like you're comprehending or going to remember any of this anyways."

"I will."

"Yeah? What's two times two?"

"… Twenty-two!"

You nudge him over in exasperation and he falls down on his side, head perfectly landing on the pillow you propped up while he lets out a heavy sigh that you echo. "Sleep tight, dumbass."

Throwing a blanket around the lower half of his body, you know his tolerance has improved enough that he won't make a mess of the furniture. Shaking your head — albeit fondly — you head inside your room for the evening. Later on, lulled into a dreamless sleep by the even-tempo snores of your best friend.

Drunk Soonyoung is a deep sleeper — easily knocked out for more than twelve hours.

By the time he's come to, he's slept through you waking up early, fussing in the kitchen, starting laundry, and stumbling around looking for your shoes before leaving (you needed to get out before you grew too soft over seeing him asleep on your couch). You don't even bother to keep quiet, knowing the man won't stir until his body has detoxed all the alcohol out of his bloodstream.

He's a little upset to find you gone, the living quarters noticeably a bit chilly without someone else — you — in it. Though a sheepish smile lights up his face after seeing medicine and a glass of water on the table. Plus, the usual post-it note with a frowny face scribbled on it that you left for him.

Like it's a habit, his fingers slide across his phone screen rather efficiently to speed-dial your number, smiling at the profile picture he chose. A candid picture of you laughing so hard at his funny antics you didn't hear the shutter clicking. Sometimes being bad at using technology works to his advantage.

"Morning, how's the hangover?"

"Barely feel a thing, must be the magical fairy dust you sprinkled over me."

You make a disgruntled noise before playfully asking, "Four times four?"

"… is sixteen. Whatever I said last night you cannot and will not hold against me, okay?"

"Sure."

He notes your noncommittal response. It's strange when you'd normally fire back at him. Rhythmic pounding noises thud in the background, and if he holds his breath to listen closely — he swears you're panting.

"What're you up to?"

"Workout. Treadmill."

Soonyoung blinks.

Forbidden thoughts of your pretty tits and ass deliciously bouncing in time as you jog flood his mind. Licking his lips, the imagery turns to you bouncing on something else. Like his cock, for example, that's already starting to swell and stiffen up at the thought. His attractive best friend panting hungrily for him instead of in the gym. Exactly as when you squirted all over that pathetic vibrator of yours.

You're a goddamn perv, he chastises himself.

Groaning as quietly as possible, he clears his throat. "You're not a fan of exercise routines. At least, you've always hated mine."

"Yours are stupid, insanely hard. A friend of mine said to keep fit, you know — to look nice for that."

"Friend? What kind of friend says shit like that?" You're reminded of his question last night but he continues on with sudden passion. "You're already pretty just the way you are!"

"Mhm-hm, and what exactly about me do you think is pretty?"

Heat burns on Soonyoung's neck, traveling upwards to set his cheeks aflame. There's no way you know what he's picturing right now. Banishing those scandalous ideas far, far, far away (for later maybe), he scrambles to answer.

"Your… your… eyes!"

He's not sure what he's expecting but it's certainly not a scoff of disbelief coming out of his phone's speaker. Only the wall you're facing can see how hard those very eyes roll.

"Lies. All men do is lie."

Before he can ask you to elaborate, a male voice he can't make out nor identify takes your attention away. Soonyoung frowns, eyebrows furrowing in perplexity at your amicable, "Be right there," before you bid your friend a rather miffed goodbye.

"Please lock the door when you leave."

"I can't stay?"

"… Just don't destroy anything."

A toothy grin emerges on his face as he thinks back to where you told him the spare key was. "I wouldn't dream of it, babe."

"Uh-huh. 'kay, bye."

"Bye!" The suddenly smug man hangs up. Donning a smirk on his face for no audience to see, one that Jihoon would shake his head and say his roommate must be up to no good.

Well. If you're going to do a workout with some other guy just because his routine is too intense — in more ways than he could ever know — Soonyoung's going to have to show you what you're missing out on.

Meanwhile, a chill runs down your spine. Puzzled, you pat at the sweat glistening on your forehead, neck, and back with the towel looped over your shoulder as you cool down. Turning off the treadmill, you join Seokmin on the large floor mat where he's attempting to stretch but has given up in pursuit of draping his body over a stability ball.

"What are you doing?"

"Becoming one with the ball."

You snort. "Is it working?"

"Yes." Turning his head, sparkling eyes stare up at you. "The universe has spoken to me and told me that was your special tiger boy. Does he miss you? Long for you?"

"There's a twenty-five-pound weight next to your girlfriend's foot. Don't make me go get it and throw it at your head."

He whines out to said partner about how mean you're being to him, only receiving delighted laughter as meager consolation in return. Setting down the heavy bar, she swings her legs off the bench and saunters over. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, a bejeweled eyebrow raises at how Seokmin forlornly rolls across the floor before he drops the act to grin at her knowingly.

"I don't like the look you two are sharing."

"Relax, sweets. When have we ever done something bad?"

"Do you want the evidence mailed or faxed by the time I gather up all the receipts?"

"You're so funny and cute," she coos, fiddling innocently with your workout bra strap.

"And you both are insane. Lovely. But insane."

"I promise it's nothing crazy, right Seok baby?"

"Yeah, it's really tame. Nothing big either."

You shake your head. "So, it's not another extra, extra large-sized vibrator? 'Cause I was told that wasn't big either."

More bubbly giggles fill the empty gym. "How 'bout we grab some food on our way out and we'll share the deets?"

"I suppose so, could definitely use a cold drink now."

"A drink? At this time?" Seokmin teases as you search for your cover-up hoodie and zip it up. He'd wrangled all the details out of you this morning about last night's events while you helped spot him on the chest press. "Was taking care of your tiger boy really that bad?"

"… How you haven't broken his perfectly shaped nose yet is beyond me."

"'cause he's adorable. And frankly, dearest, you can be a real sour puss sometimes."

"Sorry, I'm surrounded by irritating idiots all the time that test my patience."

"Even me?"

"Never you." You loop your arm through her free one, causing the fake pout on her face to disappear.

Seokmin hangs giddily onto her other side, matching his girlfriend's radiant smile. He's used to the usual light-hearted jabs thrown his way and knows they aren't meant with any ill intent.

The three of you traipse outside where the fair sunlight and time of day increase the crowd of people milling around. Business always flourishes for the food stalls lining the sidewalk when the stroke of good fortune smiles down on them with pleasant weather. Especially when hungry gym-goers stop by for a refreshing drink or delicious snack like your trio needs after a hard routine.

"So, what's the grand secret you're hiding?"

Shiny, long hair is flipped over a tattooed shoulder with such a sure smile on her face and for the umpteenth time, you wish to have even a fraction of the self-confidence Seokmin's girlfriend exudes. "Got a sexy little number for you, darling. Nothing insane but I know you'll just love it and well," a glee-filled snicker, "I know he'll absolutely adore it. Isn't that right, 'Min?" she asks louder.

Her boyfriend nods in agreement even though he probably hasn't heard a thing other than his name from where he's busy paying at the stand. You roll your eyes.

"Thanks, but is that really necessary?"

"Of course!" she gasps, "it would be a bit of a shame, really, but I wouldn't be surprised if he tore it right off. Hah, it will be easy to tho… but anyways, the setup is always key. Remember, I told you it's just like foreplay and equally as important. You're already hot stuff and you're just gonna look even hotter flattering your best assets. He's gonna end up blowing his load, I just know it!"

"I'm going to have a meltdown," you state rather evenly while she squeals. Quite proud of yourself for the fake calm demeanor.

A hand wraps around yours, squeezing encouragingly. "Listen to me. I was in the same boat a year ago and what great advice did I receive?"

"That was different."

"How so?"

"I mean look at you two now."

"Yeah, I found the love of my life. But that's not what I'm referring to. You know how murky our feelings stupidly were at the time and what did you tell me?"

You sigh in defeat and repeat, "'Whatever happens, happens but at least you know you tried'."

"Exactly." She puts a hand on your shoulder and the other one tilts your chin up so you have no choice but to meet her firm gaze. "And I wasn't happy when you said that but it's true. Plus, my intuition deep down is never wrong and something tells me this will be good either way. It's why we got you something to help boost your confidence, yeah? Think of it as armor… even if it doesn't cover much!"

You groan her name. "Geez, alright. You're right. Someone else said the same thing but I'm just — you know…" You wave your arm around and she nods understandingly.

"I get it. It's okay to feel that way, perfectly normal. Be honest with him, at least about the nerves part if that's what you're only comfortable sharing. I think he's gonna treat you right during this, though. You're his best friend when it all comes down to it! Remember, you both have equal control over this so make sure to express and communicate at all times."

"I don't know if he'll have any control with what I have planned," you mutter and her eyebrows raise up in surprise before they wiggle suggestively with a salacious grin.

"Oh? There's my spicy sugar baby."

"Hah, stop it, you! I dunno, I mean we didn't discuss what we would be doing anyways so…"

"Mhm-hm. Well, don't forget we're always one phone call away. For anything."

"In fact, we could just book a nearby hotel." Seokmin returns and hands out your respective orders. "We haven't spent the night in one for a while, have we?"

You make a face of disgust following the couple to their parked car. "There's only trashy motels that reek of sex out my way. Like the dorms on campus but five times worse."

"Whaddya mean, that sounds perfect?"

"C'mon Seokmin," you grumble and he chuckles.

His girlfriend takes out a white clothing box wrapped with an elegant black ribbon. "Don't open it until right before you're ready to stream. I know you'll overthink it if you see it any sooner."

You bite your lip but nod, pulling her in for a hug. "Thank you a lot. For everything you always do. I know you're right." Taking in a deep breath, you stand back and nod at both of them. "I'm going to do this."

"Yes, you are! You're gonna take that dick and own it, regardless of fuzzy feelings, you better enjoy it for what it's worth!"

"Baby, we're in public!"

"What, that's never stopped you before? You just handed over a lingerie set on a public street!"

As they bicker, you hear your phone ding.

You gasp. For multiple reasons. None of them good ones.

Throwing your head back, you let out a frustrated groan before turning to face your curious friends. "It was great seeing you guys but I have to make a call and hurry home. Love you, will talk to you later."

They blow you kisses goodbye, acting as if they aren't chortling like little demons to each other that you have a very important dicking-down appointment to make. You pretend like you don't hear them, urgently dialing Soonyoung's number.

"Heya."

"Tell me you didn't bleach and dye your hair in my bathroom sink!"

Your devious best friend can't help but find your fuming cute as he plays with the tattered strings on his sweatpants. "I didn't."

You halt your fast stride and accusingly huff into the phone, "Then you're just fucking with me?"

"Not yet, actually."

"Kwon Soonyoung!"

"What? You didn't answer my question. Y'know I was gonna call and ask you what color you'd prefer but I didn't want your gym buddy to overhear."

"So you left and came back just to make a mess of my bathroom, maximizing the chances of my landlord potentially killing me?"

"Something like that, yeah."

"If you thought Jihoon was pissed, I can get much scarier than him."

"Oh trust me, I know. Better hurry that cute ass of yours home to get me to behave."

He hangs up, leaving you standing on the side of the street with your jaw nearly hitting the concrete. You hope that Soonyoung had learned his lesson after horribly — albeit accidentally — staining Jihoon's brand-new sink the last time he'd had done something crazy to his hair.

But as usual, he never fails to surprise you in the worst of ways. For as irritating as he was, it was honestly sometimes a surprise that you were best friends with him — let alone ending up with stupid feelings that totally don't exist.

The heavy weight of male testosterone hanging in the air smacks you right in the face when you open the door. So much so that you have to take a step back, shake your head, and approach your own living quarters with much more caution.

"Honest to god," you mutter to yourself, only just able to hear Soonyoung's grunts, groans, and controlled exhale over the obnoxious blaring of his workout playlist. You pray your neighbors won't file a noise complaint. "Is he for real?"

Like out of a wet dream (yours), the lean arms of your best friend curl inwards to bring the dumbbells toward his head. Biceps bulging, the rest of his muscles visible through the thin white tank draped over them ripple in time with his precise movements. An audible hiss from the burn of exertion is followed by furrowed eyebrows, lips curling inwards before he relaxes and releases the tension.

The only thing keeping you from fainting is the sight of his fuzzy bleached hair sticking out at odd points. Reminding you of why you stormed home in the first place.

Having seen your reflection in the blank TV, Soonyoung sets down the weights and turns to face you with a lazy grin. Shaking out his arms, the bracelets on his wrists jingle and jangle, silver beads against his tanned skin make it glow even more.

Like who even wears jewelry when they work out, you think to yourself with critical disdain to distract away from the fact that you're staring. In disbelief obviously. Pure and utter judgment.

As if you don't have a dainty golden chain around your own neck, the pendant resting demurely above the low zipper of your hoodie.

You miss the hungry dark brown irises following the way it dangles back and forth above your chest when you bend over to set down the bags you're carrying. Unconsciously biting down on his bottom lip at the pretty view presented to him. Hurriedly flitting his eyes away with slight shame when the charm nestles itself exactly where he was staring as you stand back up.

Just in time to meet your fiery glare that burns into his dilated pupils — this time, not from alcohol.

You're too busy staring at the mess on his head to really notice and he uses that to his advantage. As much as possible. But the attempt at sexily brushing back his frizzy bangs only makes them look worse and causes your scowl to deepen. A failure in making you swoon or laugh as intended, he sighs in defeat and turns on the kicked-puppy-dog act. Even though he's a self-certified tiger.

"Don't give me that look."

"I'm not doing anything."

"That's what you should've told me on the phone."

"Ah but… oh, wait… " he calls out as you stomp over to the bathroom only to let out a frustrated shriek. "See? Didn't ruin your basin, babe."

"Oh, you! Like you even know what that word means!"

"I do!"

A withering look is shot his way on your return but it has no effect. Neither do the next words out of your mouth. "I'm going to strangle your rat-lookin' ass for giving me a false heart attack!"

"Hah, I might be into that if it's you doing it."

This time, though, the way you whine out his name causes Soonyoung to shiver. Tiny hairs stand at attention, eliciting bumps to cover his body despite the sheen of perspiration already coating his skin.

God, does he want to hear it again.

You turn away from him, having said enough of your mind and knowing he probably wasn't even listening. Which would be correct. Instead, he tugs at the hem of your shirt and taps your shoulder so you'll face him again, allowing him to put his hands on your hips to keep you in place.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Where are you going?"

"Away from you. Obviously."

"Trying to escape me in your own place?"

"Oh, trust me. I can evade very well while you… work out whatever alpha male energy you need to release in my home."

"But I'm a tiger — a solitary creature with no social structure."

"No social skills, more like it." You push at his chest, hand jolting back like it'd been burnt upon the realization of just how thin and useless the almost-sheer fabric of his tank top is. Cheeks burning only hotter when his shit-eating smirk widens.

Absent-mindedly kneading at your covered skin while mentally taking note of how short your attire was on your lower body, Soonyoung chuckles. "You're a tiger too, you know?"

"Stop, I could never compare to the level of your tiger-isms. Because I'm not a furry or whatever you like to call yourself."

"I could convince you to be my tigress," his breath hot against your already burning cheek, "change your mind a little bit, you're already halfway there as it is."

Any biting remark fizzles out in your throat like an opened soda can turning flat, knowing it'll only come out sounding like a whimper with how close he gets. Firm and warm — so warm and his dazzling, brilliant display of teeth only makes everything burn more. Your legs are as shaky as the breath you would have let out if you weren't holding it in just as hard as the grip on the last shred of your sanity.

Your best friend must deviously know who now has the upper hand at your ducked head. Sweatpant-clad knees knock into your bare ones. Urging you back, back, and back until you obediently sit down on the couch.

Reminiscent of the night before. Opposite positions.

Soonyoung cages your head between his arms, wishing he was shirtless so you could see the way his abs flex in order to hold himself up, not solely relying on the strength of his arms. Your silence and stunned look are enough to boost his ego though, and he knows he can make it up to you.

"Have a few more reps to do, why don't you wait 'til I'm done?"

It's adorable, he thinks — how you're only able to cutely nod, mouth slightly ajar. Completely overwhelmed by him and him alone until he backs away to give you space to finally exhale in relief.

"And why would I do that?"

Broken out of the spell long enough to grouse at him and be taken aback by the unfamiliar but familiar pull-up bar station he's headed toward. However, before you can chew him out again, he easily targets your Achilles heel. Sometimes he's smart like that (or lucky), able to pick up on your strengths and weaknesses you don't realize or try to hide. Either for or against your well-being.

"'Cause I'll make it worthwhile, babe."

And right now, Soonyoung's actively using every effort to work against you.

Pulling out a baseball cap from who knows where to cover his hideous hair and tossing away his useless top, you have no choice but to momentarily gawk at the defined valley between his back muscles with nothing shielding your view. It's up to your filthy imagination to envision what disappears under the waistband of his gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips.

"Yeah, right, I'll just look at my phone," you grumble, although you can't tear your gaze away despite unlocking the device with your thumb.

"See something you like?"

His teasing is relentless, your shrunken reflection on the TV screen becoming his focal point. Grinning to himself with his tongue sticking out, panting and moaning as acceptable as one can when doing pull-ups.

"No," you lie flatly, "I saw a lot of that not too long ago at the gym." More lies. Seokmin is a respectable man and keeps himself well-covered. "I'm just wondering how you got that damn thing in here."

"I'm stronger than I look."

"I know. Doesn't explain why you bothered to set it up here."

It's hard to shrug in the middle of a pull-up so he hums. "Change of scenery?"

"There's a great view at your apartment. A huge, wide window overlooking a green yard, not some beige wall."

Like he'd admit right now that he'd rather look at you. For amusement. For other reasons. Especially because he has a pretty good idea of how lovely you are undressed.

Continuing to ramble, you carry on. "And if you're all wrung up about me avoiding you — which I'm not — because of the collab, don't be. 'Cause I'll still do it — "

One of Soonyoung's hands almost slips off the bar, losing his grip in his sudden excitement at your words. Stabilizing himself with two feet planted on the ground, he faces you — chest heaving, abs rippling to catch his breath.

"You're still okay with it?"

"I mean why wouldn't I be? I just… had to process things. I'm a bit… well… nervous, okay?" You look down, expecting him to laugh at you.

"I'm nervous, too. Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable with the things I texted you, was just caught up in the moment, and I… " He rubs his neck, backpedaling when you flinch. "I meant it! Oh god, I mean… I didn't intend to be a creep, I just wanted you to know that…"

A deep inhale gives him enough air to rush out, "I do find you attractive. I mean you're hot, duh. And… I would and will do anything and everything to make sure you're comfortable at all times and… also… feel good… and… and stuff."

Soonyoung's voice fades away, the idea that he's fumbled the ball so hard and lost the game is super embarrassing. Defeat isn't common. Flirting and securing dates were his forte, his special skills, and the things he never failed at. Yet, with you sitting right in front of him right now — someone who is always by his side — he keeps fucking things up.

It gives him a small flutter of hope though when you raise your head to steadily meet his eyes. A hint of a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "You're strange, you know that?"

"I'm trying to have a heart-to-heart for the third time and you're telling me I'm weird?"

"Strange, not weird."

"They're literally cinnamons."

"… Synonyms?"

"Yeah, you know when two different words mean the same thing."

"I — " You shake your head. Typical Soonyoung behavior. Attempting to get back on track, you mumble an apology. "You know, I've been caught up in my head without thinking about what or how you're feeling at all even though you've been pretty open."

"More than open."

"True. It just…. scares me. You're my best friend, Soonie — I don't want to lose you."

Your fearful whisper comes out more like a plea. The both of you search each other's shared gaze, unable to recognize the exact emotions you seek are in plain sight.

Soonyoung frowns. "You aren't going to lose me over this."

"You don't understand."

"You haven't been upfront with anything if I'm being honest so, yeah. I don't."

"I'm — I'm sorry — "

"Don't be," he assures you with a wave of his hand and comes closer, "I get that it's new, scary, and gonna take time. I'm not expecting anything nor am I gonna leave when it's over, okay? Just want us to enjoy ourselves." His soft approach — the clumsy steadiness of the man you know and love — only makes your heart melt devastatingly so. "I promise this is gonna be great."

"It… it will be. I trust you."

He beams at you, holding out his hand. "Why don't we shower together then?"

"What?" Your body jolts, not at the coldness of the phone you had a death grip on falling onto your thighs but at the shock of his words. "Why?"

"To make up for the time we could've had during the communal shower incident?"

"Ugh, omigod, you perv…I should've known way back then."

Soonyoung wiggles his eyebrows and fingers enticingly. "How about just getting comfy and calming the nerves a bit? No cameras, no viewers, no one else — no pressures. Just us. Whatcha think?"

"No funny tricks," you warn but take his offered hand and stand up. It's horrible how the idea is enough to make your body thrum in anticipation.

"'course not, wouldn't dream of it, babe."

Despite the growing trepidation, neither one of you is eager to move too fast and disturb the careful equilibrium established.

Once he's secured your hand in his, Soonyoung leads you toward the bathroom but pauses right outside the door. You peer at him curiously — thinking he's chickened out — but he simply winks, apologizing that he needs the bag left by his workout equipment.

"You little shit, you had this all planned, didn't you?"

"No, but I brought a few things in the hopes you'd at least let me stay over again. You see, Jihoon was planning a big romantic dinner tonight."

"Aw, was he? That's cute. Can you grab my stuff too? I'll… meet you in the shower in a few… gotta run to my room real quick."

"'kay, but you better not run from me," he whispers in your ear and delivers a playful slap on your ass before leaving.

Your legs wobble. Weird excitement mixes with the butterflies in your gut and then you're dashing off into your bedroom to glare at the flustered expression reflected in your vanity's mirror. Sorting through and tossing around various panties, undergarments, and casual clothing only to huff at yourself because what does it matter what you wear to the shower?

Damn you, Soonyoung.

Patting at super flushed, hot cheeks causes you to unzip your hoodie and throw it in the hamper. Left wearing only a sports bra, the urge to waste time and calm yourself by staring at the glowing, rotating stars on the ceiling is strong. Instead, you crouch down on the floor to give yourself one final pep talk for mental fortitude and then head back to join said man in the bathroom.

So caught up in trying to steel your nerves, you don't realize how long it took him to get the bags. Nor the flush coloring his neck a scarlet red and even spreading across his shoulders after he dropped yours off in front of the closed bedroom door, having accidentally caught a glimpse inside one of them.

Yes, the unmarked plastic Limbo bag that had been left in your car due to the events that happened after. You had brought it in today and although he'd picked it up without a second thought, he had seen a particular item that left his head spinning. You are none the wiser — forgetting all about it already again because of everything.

Soonyoung's already stripped and turned the shower on, intently watching the stream of water like it's the most interesting thing he's seen all day. You're grateful, though.

Although a bra and booty shorts are by far not the most revealing thing you've worn or that your best friend's seen, you feel bare before you're even naked. Quickly discarding them, you wait for his next move, shifting on your feet. Both bashful and antsy.

"You ready?" The soft way he calls your name has your stomach doing somersaults.

"Yeah."

"C'mere, then." Brown eyes crinkle to match his smile at the way you shyly sidle up next to him. "Don't know if the water temp is good for you."

"It's fine."

"After you, then."

You snort at the so-called gentlemanly nature, stepping inside while Soonyoung fidgets. It's funny because he's never failed to ogle you before with clothes on. But now he's unsure where to even look, choosing to focus on the water flowing past your painted toes and down the drain.

"You coming?"

"Yeah, uh…" He asks himself why he was doing this despite knowing the answer. "Um, nice shower."

You play along as if he's never been inside the bathroom before. "It is a nice bonus considering the rent. Big enough for two people to stand inside and not… touch."

Soonyoung's back is pressed straight up against the shower wall, clinging to it like mold and using it as a lifeline. There definitely seems to be enough space between your two bodies but he would rather slip on soap than move his eyes off the chipped caulking he's focused on right now. Speaking of soap, his singular brain cell lights up for a moment and he grabs the shampoo bottle that's thankfully to the right rather than behind either of you.

"You wanna wash my hair for me?"

"What did you do to it? Obviously, it wasn't bleached if you're getting it wet. And it doesn't look much different."

"Chan helped me lighten it. With apple cider vinegar."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah."

Another mistake. Not his hair. But asking you to wash it. Especially when you tell him to duck his head to his chest so you can lather it up properly. Though your nails feel great against his scalp, he squeezes his eyes shut — afraid to look again. Even after straightening up and you're rinsing out the suds.

"I thought we were doing this to ease up the nerves but why do you look ten times more uncomfortable?"

"… I'm trying really, really, really hard not to be a creep right now."

You have to laugh. Endeared and amazed, you tap at his hands which have curled into tight fists to try and get him to relax. "Don't you want to look?"

One eye opens to squint at you, a strangled groan escaping his throat. "The goal was to get you more comfortable with me. Not the other way around?"

"But it looks like you're having a harder time." The not-so-subtle innuendo has him groaning again, running a distressed hand through his wet locks. You're having zero difficulties checking him out, undoubtedly noticing the effect this is having on him. So of course, your ego grows just like his cock. "Do you wanna touch me, Soonie?"

"I… I…"

It's your turn to reach for the shelf of toiletries, the snap of the body wash's lid opening causes a shiver to run down Soonyoung's spine and his nostrils flare at the familiar scent. He's helpless to your sweet, seductive tone and lets you lift up his hand, squeezing a generous amount from the bottle onto it.

"You can get me all nice, clean, and pretty for our stream, yeah?"

Which is a lie — you're not looking to get clean, necessarily. The hot water and occasional soap suds are enough to wash away the sweat and grime from both of your workouts. An actual scrub could come later.

After the festivities.

"Don't waste my expensive products," you teasingly beg and bat your damp eyelashes at him before turning around. How the tables have turned. "Please?"

He swears under his breath, muttering, "This is all your fault," (a lie) before running his hands along your shoulders to spread the cool gel. Circular motions bring them down closer and closer before cautiously, but eagerly, cupping at the underside of your breasts.

"Knew you always had a thing for them," you giggle.

"Can you blame me?" Soonyoung bites back and starts to knead at them the same way he's done to other parts of your body without this kind of intent. "They're fucking gorgeous. Can't believe I finally get to touch them."

Your sigh comes out more like an airy moan, leaning back against his firm body. Two and two click together. "So these are your favorite parts of my body, huh? You've been talking to your juniors about my tits?"

"No way!" he assures you, "It's true that your eyes are beautiful as well but I can talk about how pretty you are…. you know, as a person."

"I don't even want to know."

"Like… you know!"

"No?"

"I mean all of them have the hots for you, I'm just making sure none of them make a move because that would be weird."

"Oh please, it's only weird if you make it weird."

"Think about it. If my best friend dates my younger peers and exposes all kinds of embarrassing moments, how am I supposed to hold onto my authoritative position?"

"You expose your stupidity all by yourself as it is and still somehow maintain it. I think you terrify them in so many ways you don't even have to worry."

"I dunno. Whatever, are underclassmen even your type?"

You shrug. "I don't really have a preference but I guess not."

"Good, let's keep it that way."

"You're incorrigible."

"And yet here we are." He points out, noting that his hands groping and squeezing at your chest has to feel good. A little too good, if you're the one being honest. "You still want to stream, right? Like tonight?"

"Mhm, we might as well. Besides, you have your date really soon and — " You yelp at the sudden pinch and tug at your nipples, lurching forward.

Soonyoung follows your body's motion, ensuring you won't slip or hit your head. You can feel the hot press of his cock laying heavy against your back, bodies melding together as he rises back to his full height and brings you up with him. He doesn't move away, one hand brushing across your stomach while the other soothes the harshness just enacted upon your breasts.

"Do you think you can handle one sweet orgasm for me? Before we put on a show? Please?"

"Wha — Soonyoung?" you splutter out, brain trying to catch up and process the change of his demeanor.

His mouth is on your skin, not quite kissing and not quite biting or sucking. Just lips pressing along your neck with an occasional prod of his tongue that licks up water droplets as he pleads for permission. Followed by a slight grind of his hips that steals away your breath, his heavy cock swirling against the curve of your ass, its heat matching the heat building up in your abdomen.

"Just my fingers, baby. There's no way I'd have trouble getting hard again but I need… no, want to stretch you out first. Please."

Breathless laughter bubbles in your chest at his desperation. And of course, you find yourself equally as turned on — easily able to distinguish between the hot shower water versus the release of arousal that bursts from your gut and trickles out to coat your sensitive folds.

You tell him "okay," and then he's goddamn thanking you. Already panting. Would get on his knees if he could but it's too risky, even though he reaches behind and shuts off the water that's rinsed away all of the unnecessary suds. Now, Soonyoung can resort to using his fingers to explore where he hopes his mouth and eyes can later.

Prodding at the crease of your thigh, he mumbles more to himself, "Is this where it's at?", causing you to grimace. Not knowing he's referring to your tiger lily tattoo.

"Thought you were a sex maniac? But you don't know how to finger someone?" Maybe Junhui was right. "I should've bought you a guide or something, my bad."

He scoffs. "A little mouthy, aren't we? Not that I was expecting anything less. Saw you bought some fun sex toys, babe and I assure you — I know how to use them and find my way around a body."

"We might use them in ways you can't imagine," you gripe and he silences you with a bold swipe of his fingers against the smooth folds of your cunt.

"You're shaking in my arms already and you don't think I know what I'm doing." He doesn't speed up his pace or make further movements, content to tease. Though his lips turn downward when you clasp a hand over your mouth. "Going quiet on me before I've even started?"

"I'm cold," you mumble behind your palm.

Soonyoung's hand leaves your lower body so he can place it on your elbow instead. Not moving your arm away but it's a tight enough grip that you know he wants to and could if he tried. He feels the bumps covering your skin everywhere he's pressed against and shivers himself.

"Let me warm you up then. But you're going to have to let me hear how it feels or I won't know if I'm doing a good job." Fingers trail down your side again and you relent, tentatively dropping your arm down and letting out a soft, wobbly moan at his tickling motions. "And I very much like knowing that I am."

You can feel his smile against your neck. He can't help but be fond of such cute shyness that you don't normally exhibit around him but even that's not enough to feed the ravenous tiger. Soonyoung understands though, aware of some of the differences between sexual acts for a camera audience versus doing it with another person.

Especially if it's him. Not that he's actually aware of that fact.

"Words, gorgeous." But the man still desires to ask, intent on getting you to actually say something, breathy and sweet all for him — and him alone. Hopefully not just an act. Besides, he knows how mouthy you actually are whether there's something in that cute cunt of yours or not.

"Mhm yes, Soonyoungie…"

"Yeah?" He rewards you with a return to your damp folds, gently brushing back and forth to get his fingers thoroughly coated with arousal. "Tell me what I should do, what you like. Wanna hear it all from those pretty lips of yours."

"Hm, want… want your fingers."

"Where?"

"In… inside."

"Huh, inside… here?" A finger slowly eases its way into your warmth. "In this lovely little pussy of yours?"

Your reaction is incredible, arching your lower back to press even closer to him, wedging his cock between your ass cheeks, and throwing your head back. A louder moan echoes in the shower. One that glimmers with more confidence.

You're no longer cold, sure the water droplets glistening on your skin are sizzling now and evaporating from the feral heat rushing through your body. And it is absolutely everything to Soonyoung. Almost.

"How many? How deep?"

Despite having shorter fingers, they make up for the lack of length with thickness and technique. You can clearly feel by the one alone that he obviously knows how to utilize as it explores the spongy walls of your cunt. Your moan turns into a whiny huff as he stills his digit and your foggy mind finally registers you need to answer.

"Two, please. Not… not too deep."

"'course, baby. Whatever you want. I know you can take more but I'll be gentle." He nips at your ear as he slides his ring finger next to his middle one inside, teeth bared hungrily at the filthy squelch. Pointer finger soothingly pets one side on the outer lip of your pussy that snugly wraps around him, tiny tremors of its nerves fluttering across it. "Anything for you."

He continues to mumble, stuff along the lines of "only for you" and "never do a thing to ever hurt you". But it's drowned out by the blood roaring in your ears, melting against Soonyoung's body, and attempting to keep standing. It doesn't matter too much, his strong grip ensures you won't fall — it'd be a waste of such a rigorous arm workout if he couldn't even brace and support you while he finally gets to stroke your velvety walls like he's fantasized about.

Or maybe that's fueling his strength alone. It's startling, how fast you rush toward that peak. The sensitivity of someone — him — touching you for the first time in years, the smell of your scent on him… everything in that moment, within the intimacy of your shower, is just you and Soonyoung.

It's intimate. Much too intimate.

Emotions collide and crash, causing an intense ache that leaves you in a fragile state of vulnerability, stealing your breath with a sharp gasp. Paired with the slow, concentrated strokes of his fingers that are intent on helping you reach that peak, you have no choice but to follow along.

Embarrassingly climbing up the hill and hurtling to your climax at a raging speed, like a roller coaster that races downwards off-track. And like its unfortunate passengers, you scream — albeit silently, the pleasure so mind-numbing that it steals away every single one of your functions.

It satisfies Soonyoung though. The lack of noise from your mouth lets him appreciatively hear the accompanying squelch of your darling cunt pulsating around his fingers. Gummy walls squeeze his fingers in rippling waves that make his cock ache. You tremble in his arm and he feels hella pleased, content to support your shaking frame until he realizes you're sobbing.

Mush. Your brain, your body, your heart. It feels so so, so good it almost oddly hurts so, so, so bad.

Your best friend is quick to wipe your cheek tenderly, brushing away the trickling tears with his cleaner hand. "Hey, you okay? You still with me?"

It's hard to trust yourself to speak, the lump in your throat is too big to allow for speech anyways. Instead, you nod at him through bleary eyes, waiting for the roar to fade from your ears. Soonyoung scans your face repeatedly, worry knitting his eyebrows.

"Baby," he whispers, pet names slipping out without thought, and pulls down the fluffy towel on the nearby hook to drape over your shoulders. "Talk to me. Too much? I'm so sorry… gosh, I really am sorry, love."

Regret immediately eats at him. Regret at what, he's not quite sure. But like a stone is crushing his chest, he watches you attempt to talk to him — to actually assure him that you are okay — but your body refuses to cooperate in its hypersensitive state, stuck heaving dry sobs. So, you timidly open your arms, asking for a hug and he steps in to embrace you without a moment's hesitation.

Although it's like he's touching glass, afraid you'll break with one wrong touch so he's extraordinarily gentle. Your head buries into the crook of his neck. Toweled arms wrap around him, luckily sharing a bit of warmth and dryness. Breathing in his comforting scent that lingers beneath your shampoo, and the supportive strength of defined, moist skin pressed against yours. Both of your hearts beating rapidly off-sync starts to ease the shaking in your body.

Every swallow you hear and feel from his throat continues to bring you back down to a calmer wavelength. Unsure of how much time passes until you no longer feel like you're a balloon floating away in the stratosphere. But once you finally come down and feel a sense of stability, you lift your head.

Soonyoung's quick to crank his neck just for the tiniest glimpse to gauge how you're doing when there's zero indication of you releasing him from your embrace. In fact, your arms might tighten even harder around his torso. A thumb reaches up to cradle the side of your cheek he can reach, swiping tenderly at the salty dampness.

"I'm sorry." It's your turn to croak out an apology and he frowns.

"Why are you apologizing? It's me who should be — "

"No, it's not you! Well, not exactly. Forgot how it feels to be touched by someone else and it's just… a little overwhelming. I didn't mean to scare you."

"Wasn't scared but definitely worried I took it too far. I didn't want or mean to."

"You didn't," you assure him, hands wrapped in the bath towel running up and down his lean back. "I'm fine. It felt… good. Really good. Probably too good. Guess you weren't lying about your skills."

Embarrassed laughter is muffled by burying your head back into the space between his neck and shoulder, a slight nuzzle against his warm skin. Refusing to look into your best friend's brown eyes yet upon the recollection that he'd just had his fingers deep inside of you, bringing you to a pleasurable precipice that you think is the best you've ever experienced.

"Ah."

When that's all he simply says, you have to lean away, honestly a little puzzled. Now it's his turn — once again — to not meet your eyes. A pretty flush illuminates round cheeks that are only emphasized more by the shockingly bashful smile growing on his lips.

"'Ah'?" you repeat in surprise. "I thought you'd be all… cocky and proud. Y'know, like earlier."

His hands rub up and down your arms, unintentionally but successfully finishing drying you off. "Hey, don't get me wrong. I am proud, it's not every day a man gets his pretty bestie to cum like that."

"I am pretty, aren't I?"

"Yeah, you are." He confirms that by resolutely meeting your gaze and the moment stretches on until you blink to shatter it. "Don't like making you cry though."

"Really? That doesn't seem like your normal MO, Mr. 'I get told off for having too high of a sex drive'!"

"Well… you're different," Soonyoung huffs at you mimicking his words from days ago, and scratches the back of his head as you step out of the shower. Shamelessly ogling your backside in mild retaliation as if you aren't giving him a free show on purpose when you reach for another towel. It's pointless if you don't see and he's allowed to look. "You know that."

All you do is chuckle and shake your head, humor being your favorite defense mechanism. You don't dare to ask him to elaborate. What do you know? Sure, he treats you differently… because you're his precious friend. Because he —

You focus on his matted hair that kind of makes him look a bit like a drowned rat. Though your affection doesn't dwindle, at least you can focus on the conversation rather than Soonyoung and his undeniable attractiveness that now makes you weak in more ways than one.

"What I know now is that my best friend has a dacryphilia kink."

"Do not!"

"Sure," you say, the word absolutely coated in sarcasm but you don't push it. Instead, you ask, "What about you though? Anyone ever made you cry?"

Soonyoung tongues at his cheek, as he joins you at the sink counter, towel politely covering his modesty like yours. "And now who has a kink for tears? I'm aware of how much you love it when viewers are sobbing for you to squirt for them, all pretty like you do. Bet they wail into their pillows every night because they can never, ever have a chance with you."

"Ha, talking about yourself, Tiger?" Boldly, you run a finger down the crevice formed by his pec muscles, just stopping before you reach his abs. "Didn't someone admit to being a frequent viewer of mine?" Watching as he visibly gulps despite the smirk starting to quirk the corner of his lips up. "Ever shed tears for me, Soonie baby?"

It's a miracle that the poor man is able to remain standing with every single one of his nerves tingling and firing off at your words. His entire being thrums while he wiggles his eyebrows.

"Wouldn't you like to know," he teases, unsurprisingly finding himself breathless.

"I guess I would. Or… I could just find out for myself."

"Fuck, so those toys I accidentally saw weren't for you, were they?" When all you do is bite your lip to try and hide your grin, he laughs and swears again. Turning away to run another hand through his hair, he looks back at you with an eager sparkle in his eyes. "I should've known, you naughty tigress."

"Are you up to it though?"

"Clearly."

"… I mean mentally, Soonyoung. Want to make sure you're okay with that."

"As okay as you were with what we did in the shower," he affirms, "because I trust you, too. Besides," his gaze lowers to drag across your covered body though you might as well be naked with the hungry way he stares before meeting your eyes again. "That sweet pussy of yours could bring anyone to tears. Hmm, maybe I do have a dacryphilia kink… "

"You think?" With a giggle, you try not to melt at his words. The whiplash of him jumping between hot and goofy still leaves you reeling. "We'll just have to confirm between ourselves, won't we? Let the viewers decide on the consensus."

"I'm all yours, baby." Always have been, rings silently in his mind though you likely fail to receive the message. "No matter how many people are watching or what they're saying, we'll go at your pace."

"Our pace."

"Our pace," Soonyoung repeats affirmatively and holds out his hand.

You clasp onto it like an anchor, an unspoken deal mutually accepted by the action. And then you're using it as a way to pull him out of the bathroom, eager to share with him all the ideas you've brainstormed for tonight's livestream.

This was it.

Your camming setup was in its desired location after making Soonyoung sit in various positions on the bed while you adjusted the angle for the best view. Then you turned everything off with strict instructions for the technology-inept man to not touch anything while you were gone and he lazily reclined on your bed to wait.

He agreed just as amicably as he had after patiently listening to you stutter when finally discussing what you both felt comfortable doing on-cam. Winking lecherously as you leave the bedroom with his arms propped up behind his head causes his upper body to automatically flex. You'd probably seen more of his muscles today than you ever did over the couple of years of knowing him, the man only donning — startlingly normal-colored — boxers and various silver earrings dotting his ears.

"No tiger print?" you had asked, half teasing, half shocked.

"C'mon, it wasn't like I was that prepared. Besides, what's it matter when we'll be naked soon?"

And now you stand back in your bathroom with a cross look. Twisting and turning in different directions to assess your appearance in the vanity mirror.

Seokmin's girlfriend has never done you dirty. In fact, she just seems to get better at buying things that not only flatter you but stuff you actually enjoy and feel comfortable with or in. And clearly, with this set… frankly, you think she's hit the nail on the head. But Soonyoung's casual words about getting naked eat at the normal self-esteem boost you would expect to be instilled by the beautiful lingerie.

It's simple and classy. Delicate yet sexy. Still, you don't feel as confident as you'd like to.

But then you jump at the loud drawl of your name followed by, "If you don't come out here soon I'm gonna start touching stuff!" A beat of silence. "Hm, I wonder what this button does…?"

"Hey, you'd better not!"

"You're right, I'd rather be touching you! So get your cute butt over here before I count to three, ahem, one… "

"And I thought it was me who was supposed to be the one counting," you call back and roll your eyes.

"Two… "

"Omigod! I'm coming, you beast of a man!"

"Yeah, that's what I want you to be say — oh, damn… oh wow… "

You barge back in and Soonyoung hasn't moved, still lying on his back and yelling on your bed like a child throwing a temper tantrum. But he turns to look when he hears you approach only to do a full-body jerk at the sight.

Because his traitorous eyes are immediately drawn to the large but darling satin bow tied below a flattering display of cleavage created from the two matching pieces of fabric pulled comfortably snug around your breasts. Licking his lips subconsciously as his gaze follows the line of your body to the two additional bows adorning each of your hips and keeping the material of your panties on with one simple knot tied in each one.

The man is mumbling all kinds of stuff you can't really make out as he sits up besides, "Oh my god," and probably something along the lines of "holy mother of —," and then curses. Suddenly your insecurity flares back up and you recoil instinctively to cover yourself even though he's already seen you naked.

"Wait, wait… don't hide from me…! No, no c'mere, baby. Please," his voice actually cracks as he begs and reaches out his hands, "let me see you… all of you."

And how can you resist when Soonyoung looks at you like that, glassy-eyed and tender? You go to him with timid steps until you're close enough to feel his body heat once more.

"Sweet thing." Strong arms wrap around your thighs, hands gently laying against the back of them as he nuzzles tenderly around your stomach with his nose. "How are you gonna order me around when you get all shy on me like this?"

Your hands flutter at your side, twitching unsurely before they dare to settle on him — one plays with the tip of his ear free from piercings, and the other scratches his scalp with your nails right above his forehead. And Soonyoung practically purrs in contentment, strangely putting you back at ease.

"Oh, you'll be surprised at what I can do."

He chuckles. "I always am. You're so beautiful and gorgeous, there's no reason to hide, okay? Never forget that. You still feeling alright?"

"Actually, yeah I'm… good. What about you?"

"Couldn't be better. Except my dick feels a bit numb as fuck but that's okay." When you snort, he smiles against your skin. "I'll manage."

"I'll take care of y — it soon, I promise."

He groans. "Might actually bust a nut at this point."

"Dear lord, Soonyoung… "

"Just kidding. Mostly." Backing away to get a better look at you again, his eyebrows crinkled. "You know I have excellent stamina and control. I'm as cool as a cucumber right now."

"Yeah, okay. Whatever."

"But you do look good enough to eat, goddamnit." Fingertips dare to caress the free end of the ribbon hanging from the knot tying your bra together. "This is new."

"Are you keeping track of the lingerie sets I wear?"

"Mhm… vaguely?"

You roll your eyes. "Yes, it's new."

"Thought so 'cause you've never worn dark green before but damn, do you look good."

Soonyoung wiggles his eyebrows and you flick him gently on the forehead before turning around at his command. A low whistle and awakening twitch in his boxers at the satin that thins at the back, showing off the round perkiness of your ass.

It's true that your normal colors are orange, black, or a combo. But the dark green material looks amazing against your skin, is fresh and new, and unsurprisingly — he finds himself hella down bad, noticing the way it also draws out the colors of your tiger lily tattoo that he's never really paid attention to before, when you've completed your 360-spin to face him again.

God, you're a vision.

"Hot, sexy, perfect… buy it for me to unwrap you, babe?"

You glance at the bows with a pout. "A friend bought them for me but I guess it makes sense, doing it with someone else is definitely more exciting with these."

"You said a friend?" Of course, that's the only thing he acknowledges even if he's indeed dying to undo all of the ties right away.

"Yes, Soonyoung. Again, I have friends besides you."

"One that buys you lingerie?"

"Last time I checked, you weren't."

"Then I'll amend that problem."

"No thanks," you wave him off as you head over to your camming setup to start. "I get enough stuff as it is."

"I guess I should have my kittens gift me things." A hint of satisfaction fills his chest at the downward tilt of your lips when you turn back to the setup. But a pang overrides it because he can guess why you're really grimacing. "Since it's so worth it and all."

"Don't get all salty, I'll help you find a safe place to receive things if you want." You glance over only to find his arms crossed and a frown set on his face. "What's wrong? Did your cock fall off? Do I have to drive you to the hospital?!"

"No."

You're puzzled. "Then are you good to go or…?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he huffs, "sorry, got in my head a little."

"We can wait."

"No, it's all good. Let's get this show on the road."

"Alright… "

You hesitate for a minute or so before decisively starting the livestream, the telltale red blinking dot starting after the countdown. Though your next words make Soonyoung feel like somebody dumped an ice-cold bucket of water over him, a cruel jerk back to the reality you'd both created. And maybe you just doused yourself with it too.

"Let's finally just get this thing over with."

TigerLily_61596 is now live… with a special guest!

The air has definitely suddenly shifted and both of you need to dial it in and dull it out. Whatever it may be. Because you've got an audience to perform for.

Luckily, it's easier than expected. The brief silence as you wait for viewers to tune in ends up permeating a blanket of calmness. The view count rises fast, everyone's excited anticipation is so palpable that it's starting to rouse in your body as well.

"Horang-HEY… " Soonyoung murmurs the infamous tagline while using his phone to monitor the chat. He's pleased to recognize many of the joining screen names consist of his regulars. "Yeah it's me, Hoshi AKA 0riginaltiger69. He/him pronouns, if you please."

He continues reading with a dubious adjustment to his covered crotch. "Ah, wooluv, kitten! No tigerprint…? Yeah, things are gonna be a bit different tonight anyways. Yeah, good to see you too. Miss me? Aw, missed my rowdy lil pussycats."

kingh0ng: im early for once but there's some just random dude talking abt his underwear?????

kingh0ng: and CATS????????????????? NOT PUSSIES???

NewUser4950: it's gonna be a collab

horny49yu: it's a good day to be a bisexual >>>

sugacub3s: and a furry apparently 🤨

"Hey now, no kink-shaming is welcome here."

While he starts an easygoing back-and-forth about whether or not kink-shaming could classify as a kink itself, you re-approach where he's seated on the edge of the bed. Fingers press into the firm muscles of his deltoids after you crawl to sit behind him and he sucks in a sharp breath.

kitkat69: 🤤 mama has finally arrived

"Hi kitkat69, darling," you smile in comfort at the familiar user while peeking over Soonyoung's shoulder, a hand creeping over to brush above his pectoral muscle.

NewUser3939: what are you okay with us calling u?

"Yeah, if you're new here… I don't care how you address me, I'm fine with anything. The regulars call me Mama, Tigress… all sorts. Spoiler alert though, I'm probably not the one you're going to want to be calling names tonight."

hoshis_d1ck: oh damn???? 🫦

wooluv: 😢 im so jealous

You dare to tweak at the man's corresponding nipple. He grunts and leans forward into the camera, bare upper body hiding from the lens the way your lips purse at his actions.

"'kay kittens, I hope you enjoy what we have prepared so get all comfy while the tigers set up their playpen."

Once he moves to situate himself in front of the pillows piled by the headboard, you're quick to turn and kneel between his thighs. Dutifully showing off an enticing backside perched prettily on the back of your heels and the black leather strap draped over one of your legs hinting at what's in your hand.

s0turned0n: leash?! ummmmmmmm 👅

AnonymousUser4442: toys…….. oh- 🙃 😵‍💫 🥴

newuserjk: even between the 2 of them? yuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

deathbyd1cks: you look great in that set babe~ 😍 💦

crazy4w00: too true 😳

m3rs: HOT

"You're so cringey." Your whisper is just loud enough so only he can hear.

"And? They love it."

woolove: why can't that be me 😩😩😩😩

cumdaywh0ring: 😔 same here but which 1

horny49yu: again a great day to be a bisexual!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Soonyoung's still reading the comments and you huff. "You're supposed to be paying attention."

"I am."

"To me," you clarify and take the phone out of the man's rather loose grip. Placing it on the nightstand, your covered breasts softly press against his firm ones and another quiet grunt escapes his mouth.

He's still not looking directly at you even as you loop your arms over his shoulders to put the collar around his neck. Bravely, you place what could almost be considered a kiss — featherlight — to the rapidly pulsating vein, raised and visible on his neck due to an extremely tensed jaw.

A whisper of "Soonie," in his ear and you feel the tiny hairs on the nape of his neck rise despite how the flesh beneath the pads of your fingers burns. "Relax for me," you continue in a low, seductive tone and then fasten the collar with a resounding click.

deathbyd1cks: 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 everyone shut up they r having a moment

NewUser1920: feeling inherently single! ✌️

crazy4w00: may be the point lololol

wooluv: 🥲

Leaning back to assess how good he looks with the black leather stretching around the honeyed skin of his throat, the defiant spark that smolders inside of a swift glare before he's glancing away ignites something within you. Maybe he's doing this on purpose. Egging you on to deliberately provoke what happens next in the hasty script you're both choosing to act out, weird feelings be damned.

It helps.

Hesitation is nonexistent when your hand runs along his sharp jawline until it reaches his bottom lip, pulling it downwards with your thumb. Two fingers slip inside Soonyoung's mouth and push down on his tongue, encouraging him to open wider which he readily obliges. Your other hand sneaks into his boxers, just barely grazing the head of the growing bulge confined in them, and decisively pulling out the second surprise toy of tonight's show.

kitkat69: jsfkdjafkjfkJDKJdfjjdf

cherry_scouper95: 😏😏😏 my colors ayo ❤️ 🖤

8starfucks: this fucks 1000/10

4ngelic_m3nace: me n who ME AND WHO??????

The red sphere of the ball gag is filled with holes but the solid surface molding the circular shape lays sticky between your fingers. Holding it enticingly between your own teeth, you can't help but stick your tongue out and let out a tiny moan at the salty excess purposefully left behind by his neglected, leaking shaft.

You're not sure when Soonyoung placed his hands on your sides but he kneads the bare skin with usual familiarity, squeezing just a bit rougher after the sound you made. Before you dare let yourself wander too far off track, you lean in close. An accelerated heartbeat mixed with ridiculous flutters can be felt in your chest, your stomach, and even between your legs. So traitorous that you would grit your jaw in irritation if you could.

Instead, you tilt your head, raise up onto only your knees, and place your arms around his neck again, this time for support. Using a skilled tongue — while continuing to tease yourself with the taste of his precum — to nudge the ball into his awaiting mouth. Lips dangerously brush together and you're surprised he doesn't flinch away.

"No kissing."

"Okay."

"Not gonna question why?"

There's no need to because you respect his boundaries as he does yours. But as familiar as he is with your idiosyncrasies, you also realize Soonyoung is pushing the matter because he wants you to ask.

"No one gets to kiss your virgin lips, I know."

"Wha — "

"That's what your drunk self — that kisses people very often — told me once."

"Oh, hm…"

"Don't worry, I get it. You should save kissing for someone special. Like maybe Yuna."

"Huh… I guess?" He shrugs noncommittally. In a way, you almost feel bad for the girl he's going on a date with. In fact, that's why you're trying so hard to protect your own heart, dare it get treated so flippantly like this.

"Besides, there's no reason for any kisses."

Not unless it's you, think two dumbass minds.

And maybe you linger a little longer than necessary or needed during the brush of lips that's clearly not a kiss. Surely Soonyoung doesn't lean in a little further, pressing up closer against your entire body. Perhaps it's simply your imagination when his hands move behind your back as if he would never let you move away from him again.

deathbyd1cks: 🍿 😎

Anonymous33001: i feel like i'm intruding on smth v personal 😭

jejusb00s: it's called intimacy 🤌 a connection

s0turned0n: sad lonely n horny

But you do distance yourself. You have to.

Once the ball is lodged in his mouth, you drop your arms down, guide his hands onto the bed, and lean to the side to secure the strap of the gag behind his head. He's a vision and you know it.

He probably knows it too.

Loose bangs are pushed up off his forehead that glistens in the low light of the room. Sweat also shines between the peaks of his tiddies and valleys of abs that flex and unflex with uneven breathing. Saliva starts to pool past his reddening lips. A hazy look in his eyes that has to be mirrored within your own. There's no other choice but to be proud of such a masterpiece — him.

You also can't help but show a cheeky smirk to the viewers when you turn around. Seating your ass right on top of Soonyoung's large bulge like it's no big deal that the moist wetness soaking the satin covering your cunt blends right into the seeping mess of fabric covering him. Bracing yourself with hands set on the two strong thighs below, you start a lazy grind of your hips that have you biting your bottom lip coyly when he throws his head back with a series of frustrated groans.

kingh0ng: woooo some action from the fav

Putting on an act, you frown as if hurt. "What do you think I've been doing all this time darlings?"

NewUser9031: not paying attention to us :(

"Aw, I know you need attention too."

The pleasant sound of tips pouring in is satisfying as is but you always have ideas on how to rack them up even more and rile the dirty minds of the viewers. Drive them crazy. Seemingly Soonyoung has the same thought process and acts quickly. Quicker than you can even react.

tigressb00bl0v3r: finally my time to shine!

Deft fingers loosen the bow of your bra causing it to easily slide down your arms. Warm hands palm eagerly at your breasts, kneading and squeezing and squishing them at a much more aggressive rate than in the shower before.

kingh0ng: now we're talking

cumdaywh0ring: SCREAMING

cumdaywh0ring: creaming

cumdaywh0ring: jerking off

cumdaywh0ring: yEs

tigressb00bl0v3r: i love boobs <3

Soonyoung's harsh yet pleasurable groping means you've stopped moving, the attention to your chest keeping you captive both physically and mentally. So he kindly picks up the initiative, desperate rutting of hips up against your pussy as if he was actually fucking you from below.

The man wishes he could be whispering all sorts of naughty shit in your ear but the ball gag keeps him silent save for the groans and whines coming from his chest and throat. Drool dribbles onto your left shoulder creating a shimmering sheen of saliva for the camera that eventually ends up coating the upper swell of your breast.

tigressb00bl0v3r: god i wish that were me 😩

dickarawrous420: u and me both 🤝

He goes on long enough for a copious amount of spit to aid his hand in gliding with smoother ease across your skin. Messier. Faster. Harder. The extra slipperiness only makes him apply more pressure to grip and grab at your tit, causing a low moan to build in your throat out of pity for the more neglected one. You feel the rumble of humor in Soonyoung's chest against your back and your brain has to fizzle out the tingles and remind your body to fight against the pleasure you're receiving in order to take back control.

Who's the one holding the leash anyways?

"Stop," you say sternly and place a hand on his forearm, noting the way those muscles twitch in response.

kitkat69: mama using big words now 🫢

sugacub3: seriousness is such a turn on

But the little bastard continues to fondle your other breast without pause so you reach behind, yanking at the band of the collar. He moans. The audacity.

"What did I just say, Hoshi? You know only good boys who listen get rewarded, do you not want yours?" You pretend to wait for a reply. "Oh, that's right you can't talk, so I guess someone else should make that decision. What's the verdict, loves — has he earned his?"

dickarawrous420: absolutely not

wooluv: he's a good boi to ME

h0n3ybun: even good boys need a lesson

deathbyd1cks: punish him! 😈 make him beg bby!!

NewUser88963: tie him up and teach him some manners

8starfucks: touching w/o permission is a BIG 🙅🙅🙅🙅

"Should've kept your hands to yourself, baby boy. Looks like they wanna see you pay for not listening. And honestly, I do too."

You're quick to switch to your original position so you can face him again and Soonyoung isn't afraid nor ashamed to admit to himself that the wild, unhinged look in your eyes is crazy sexy. It's almost enough to make up for the loss of contact with one of his favorite parts of your body. He would have never, ever pictured himself submitting to anyone during sex but it comes quite naturally when it's you. Though a part of him that's not his cock aches, wondering if this is truly all for the camera as usual or what you're really like.

Will he ever know?

Those thoughts are luckily banished quickly when you dictate he put his arms behind his back. He complies, grateful to even have this kind of opportunity despite the circumstances, and focuses on doing his best to enjoy every moment.

"I'm even going to do you a favor because I like you so much and would hate to punish you more for additional misbehavior."

deathbyd1cks: oh??? 🫢

horny49yu: 🍿 😋

crazy4w00: 😎 this is better than a kdrama

newuserjk: am i the only one who feels like im missing smth???

4ngelic_m3nace: yeah im missing some1 tied up on MY bed

cherry_scouper95: idk bout yall im just here to get off 😗 ✌️

To be honest, you planned on never touching the hideous handcuffs Junhui gave you even if they were free. For multiple reasons. Banished and stashed away in the very bottom of your dresser drawers, you are quite proud of the substitution you'd chosen to use instead.

Unclipping the leash in case Soonyoung might accidentally choke himself anyways (though he might like that), you loop the leather strap across his wrists and forearms until it's bound tight enough just to remind him it's there if he gets too impatient. It'd be a joke to think that could actually restrain him if he really tried to break free. Still, it's great for theatrics.

All the while, you're murmuring in his ear if he's doing alright even though the establishment of safety words and signals were already made very clear before this all started. Your best friend assuages any worries with an imperceptible nod that only you can feel though he whines audibly over Svthub's steady cash flow notification at your bare chests brushing against one another.

You relieve him (thankfully) by moving away (sadly) and deliberately brush against his cock (evilly) with your knee when you sit yourself prettily on his thigh. His eyes roll back instantly, hips stuttering at the teasing action as well as the spongy material of your panties saturating his bare thigh.

He huffs wetly, chin and throat, inside and outside, coated with drool. Incoherent noises, a mixture of whimpers and words he's trying to say, grow louder in desperation when you start grinding with no mercy, riding his thigh at an unforgiving pace that's wildly fast. Your hands grip at the covers behind you for support as you thrust your hips towards him and then away, knee inching closer to once again nudge his hardness with your motions. Messy cunt oozing so much arousal, the viewers don't have to listen too hard to hear the nasty sound of soiled fabric sliding against skin.

beg4gyu: i debated if i should watch this or not

beg4gyu: i caved,,,,,,, im weak

beg4gyu: i can live w/ this tho

beg4gyu: esp if tigress uses him like a hq dildo

wooluv: hey!

beg4gyu: hi!

wooluv: (derogatory)

wooluv: sorry it's not my strong suit

beg4gyu: 🤨 um

beg4gyu: n e wayz glad to see i didn't miss much

Comment wars rage on as usual but you're too occupied to care. It was a hard choice to decide on at first. The ridges of Soonyoung's abs and the insane vein that leads down all the way to the mushroomed tip of his cock surely would have felt divine rubbing between the folds of your pussy. Perhaps that would have to wait until you were unclothed next —

Or just forget about it. There won't be a next time. There can't be. So you must let it leave your mind.

It's not hard because his thigh wholly takes away any thoughts that even might enter your head, by far surpassing your expectations and dispelling any indication of disappointment. He flexes and releases the muscle just enough so it catches that sweet clit of yours at different points and angles while you slide back and forth. He'd give anything to push his knee up and temptingly stuff your soaked panties a teeny tiny bit inside your hole with a sinful squelch.

Alas, he fears the repercussions if he tries to do too much. Content with the way your breasts jiggle cutely, wishing you were still wearing the pendant that you came home from the gym in so he could watch it bounce and sparkle in time with them.

You're moaning shamelessly now, mouth set in a gorgeous "O" and cute moans, almost squeals, coming out as you ride his thigh with even more vigor. Soonyoung hopes — prays — that you'll cum. Nearly cracking the ball gag with how hard his mouth squeezes around it in anticipation.

The minute that thought resonates in his head, your body seizes up. Lower body shakes and shudders, lifting upwards… up, up, and up… enough for him to spy a hint of the dark green satin color turned black where it's wedged in between the puffy, soppy lips of your cunt that spasms slightly around the ruined fabric.

His eyes threaten to roll up out of pure delirium but he can't bear to look away and miss this moment.

Oh god, and then when you somehow have the wherewithal to move off of his thigh to engage with the hungry viewers that adore watching you come undone (who doesn't?), he just about faints. You even have the gall to wink at him over your shoulder and bet how many orgasms he can give you. He can't bother to try and pay attention as you continue to praise him in front of everyone watching just to egg on the comments and the long, blazing bling of money pouring in.

Something itches at him. Soonyoung's well aware of the incredible amounts of arousal you're able to conjure with some lube helping you play with during your streams but he's floored. He could definitely feel the wet mess you were making on him. And then to see it. Slathered all over and across like he'd been oiled, it strikes a pleasant possessiveness as if you staked your claim on him. He watches star-eyed at the tiny quivers in your legs while you try and regain your breath.

Down bad, the poor man is. You'd be the death of him.

wooluv: i might have to accept i will never be as cool as tigress

wooluv: or as hot

"Aw that's not true, wooluv baby!"

h0n3ybun: believe in urself luv!!

wooluv: 😭 💔

"Seriously. Oh and hello, beg4gyu! Missed you."

beg4gyu: 😳 ME?????

"Yes, you silly. You were fighting with Hoshi during my last stream!"

beg4gyu: i was?

"He was under a different screen name but yes, it was so funny."

beg4gyu: yeah i mean i was and i was totally winning

You snort, shaking your head to hide your eye roll. "If you say so!"

beg4gyu: also… important -

deathbyd1cks: 🥱🥱🥱🥱🥱

crazy4w00: 😴😴😴😴😴😴

horny49yu: 😪😪😪😪

beg4gyu: what's w/ all the haterz???

beg4gyu: this is a judgment free zone

beg4gyu: N E WAYZ why is he called 0rginaltiger if he's 69th 🤔🤔🤔

That makes you laugh and turn back to Soonyoung with a devious smirk, hand brushing against his bulging cheek. "Wanna tell 'em, tiger boy?"

It's a mocking tone you use, the ball gag still in his mouth obviously preventing the man from uttering anything except incomprehensible sounds at this point. He's not below begging in whatever way desired — rather be drowning in your arousal than his own saliva — and raises his eyebrows pleadingly. Dancer hips hump up pathetically but oh-so-temptingly, another strangled whine thrown in for good measure and shiny eyes threatening to tear up.

Of course, you concede to finally taking it and helping with his boxers after removing the leash that's left pretty red streaks across his forearms showing where he strained against the binding. Your hands brush tenderly across the marks, a questioning hum while you wait for him to collect himself to respond.

"Guess we should," Soonyoung eventually chokes out in a raspy voice, "ya know…" a little too eager in the way he reaches for your hips, "demonstrate."

You click your tongue and gently yank on the collar before he can touch. His upper body jerks forward, merely inches from your face, nose brushing against his.

"I don't remember you having the control here, Hoshi."

"Ah, but don't forget to lemme know if I'm doing a good job like before… "

And with that, you respond by pushing against his chest after the saucy wink and smirk sent your way. Urging your best friend to lay down on his back so you can place your knees around his waist, untying one side of your panties with a flourish while he rushes to slide a naughty hand over to assist with the other. Across the room they fly, joining the discarded toys on the floor with the nastiest splat imaginable.

NewUser94594: holy shit! 🫣 💦

dickarawrous420: my god... 👅

deathbyd1cks: 👁️ did sum1 say before?

deathbydicks: hahaha n e ways — ruined ☑

You can't even be bothered to care, all your focus instead on the heat of your bare cunt pressed against Soonyoung's hard abs just as you imagined. He seems to be in a better mood and is finally obeying. But you don't like the look of the mischievous glint in his eyes when his teeth sink into his bottom lip, feeling what a sopping mess you still are.

He's covered in it. And he hopes for more.

"You're so fuckin' beautiful," slips out before he can stop it which causes you to click your tongue to cover up the fact you're extremely flattered, cheeks aflame.

"Looks like I'll have to shut you up, huh?"

Twisting around and moving further up his body until your fluttering hole is over his mouth, you see his brow raise questionably.

"Aren't you gonna... ?"

"Work for it," you interrupt with a command and don't wait for his reply before seating yourself against his swollen lips. "Work for it and maybe I'll suck you off as a reward, baby boy."

sugacub3: this is SOOOO unfair

kingh0ng: im abt to unalive

kingh0ng: i cant keep edging myself like this

kingh0ng: the drs r getting worried

AnonymousUser9999: weak

jejusb00s: concerning

There is zero hesitation in doing as demanded. Obviously. A vigorous tongue swirls to spell out his own name sloppily — s o o n y o u n g — against your sensitive clit, dipping into and all around your quivering pussy with each swipe, prod, and glide as you settle more and more of your weight onto his face. Tiny bites of cold metal from his earrings sting as they dig into your skin and only add to the pleasure.

The man underneath you growls, absolutely feral in his euphoria, not minding being smothered one bit as your knees practically crush the sides of his skull. He would die a happy man this way. Nodding his head up and down in agreement then back and forth, nose coincidentally brushing against the rim of your asshole.

You shiver at the sensation. Despite never having done any anal play, it's not that much of a turn-off. Paired with the vibrations from the noises he's making that fires off and alights your nervous system somehow even better than the XXL vibrator gift from Seokmin and his girlfriend, you're on some kind of otherworldly high. And his dick isn't even inside of you yet —

"Hah, he's… gawd, he's so good… at this!"

It's not like you forgot the only plea Sooonyoung asked of you but it's also not hard to fake or hold back the moans and praises that fall easily out of your mouth with his ministrations. Fully sitting back all the way, a treat to the viewers who can get a peek at your occupied lower body atop his shiny chin. Watching his jaw and tongue fervently working in tandem as he continues autographing your pussy. Sitting on his face like you belong there — which you do.

Only because his lungs are screaming for air, not because he's satisfied, is the reason he taps your ankle three times. Honestly, you find it a struggle to lift up and fall forward onto your forearms instead, the rest of your body prone against his. Soonyoung's rendered you weak, especially as he parts from your cunt with a lecherous wet smack like he's just had the messiest make out of the century.

He kind of has.

You're left with your mouth hanging wide open and panting — though not as hard as he is — a flurry of emotions as your mind can only think of one thing. It's no surprise when drool dribbles out of the corner of your parted lips, perfectly falling onto the angry red cock below you that jumps adorably in shock at the contact.

deathbyd1cks: hehehehehe dick drunk dick drunk dick drunk 🙇

deathbyd1cks: called it!

deathbyd1cks: 💵💵💵💵💵💵

h0n3ybun: i mean it IS pretty

horny49yu: THICC

newuserkjk: still feel like im missing smth

beg4gyu: its like a 100

beg4gyu: out of 100000000000000000000

wooluv: jealous much?

A wonky, dazed smile and a flutter of eyelashes dampened by tears is sent to the camera. While you might not be reading their comments, you can only imagine how they're eating this shit up. You let more drool accumulate and collect on the center of your tongue (easy with how good you feel and the sight before you), sticking it out so a singular clear strand can drip down from the tip.

Like a baker drizzles icing on their cake with a spoon, you direct your head in various directions over his length. Eyeing greedily as it twitches agreeably and leaks more precum at the teasing, barely-there warm liquid that instantly cools beginning to coat it.

Whether out of repayment or retaliation, Soonyoung catches his breath and gathers up the moisture in his mouth (that probably consists more of your arousal than saliva), and then spits. Right at the pretty folds of your pussy that are eye-level if he keeps his neck lifted. Hungrily watching through a lidded gaze as it slides between them and mixes in with the sloppy cream that's starting to seep out and threatens to spill onto his chest.

"This pussy…! Fuck, is it so perfect… totally made f'me."

His voice is choked and raspy. Like hell he'd waste any droplets of yours, vowing for them to only fall on his tongue. Hastily grabbing at your hips, pulling you back onto his mouth, and kneading at the plushness of your asscheeks before delivering a playful and light slap to them — daring you to finally suck him off.

And you do, reverently picking up his thick length with trembling hands. Marveling how it even makes your hands look small around it. Lying hot and heavy in your hold, you can feel the blood raging through its veiny prominence.

Then your lips are suckling at the tip, re-addicted to the salty tang you previewed thanks to the ball gag. Soonyoung lets out a grateful moan of relief and you echo it because of the satisfying taste of him.

horny49yu: actually

horny49yu: bad day to be a bisexual if youre not between them

4ngelic_m3nace: where do i sign up to be a part of this???

beg4gyu: bruh

beg4gyu: not b4 me 😑

deathbyd1cks: is sum1 having their bi awakening?

beg4gyu: no but

beg4gyu: ill do anything for tigress

wooluv: 😳 i think i might

deathbyd1cks: amen to that 🙏

Your best friend's now almost halfway inside your mouth while he's been tongue-deep inside of you in exchange. Granted, Soonyoung is only occasionally flicking your clit now, much lazier thrusts as he tongues and laps around your hole because it would be a lie to say he's not mildly distracted at long last by being enveloped with your warm mouth.

That's perfectly fine though, allowing a clearer mind to pay attention to him instead. Your head bobs up and down in a methodical, slow way until the tip of his shaft slips down your throat. Staying like that for as long as you can without breathing before popping off, proud of yourself for not gagging.

Practicing with your toys for the past week must've paid off.

(Of course, you would die before you ever admitted that to Soonyoung, and likewise. Because if you asked him if he wanted to hear your gags, the answer is an obvious yes — but admitting it? Over his dead body.)

You get more comfortable, breasts squishing against his thighs, forearms strewn across his calves so you can fondle at his ballsack while you work him deeper and deeper down your throat each try. Soonyoung mimics you, arms thrown across your lower back as he moans against your pussy. More than pleased when you start an unhurried, inconsistent grind that he happily continues to supply his drenched face for.

You're not even trying to look pretty for the camera, slobbering all over the place like you're devouring one of those ginormous round lollipops, nor did you intend to make such a mess. Who knows if it's precum or saliva dripping down between his balls? But there's so much that you can smear all around and all over like a heathen.

Only adding to all of it by briefly neglecting his cock (hand replacing your mouth to jerk him off because you're nice like that) and giving a love-suckle to each one of them simply because you can't resist with them right there for the taking.

kingh0ng: can it be a concern to cum sm???

cherry_scouper95: dude fr?? need to work on ur stamina

cherry_scouper95: get laid finally or smth

kingh0ng: im not a virgin!

h0n3ybun: no shame if u r

kingh0ng: w/ the amt of times i use my hands to these shows i could be tho 😔

Soonyoung must be feeling the same way you do if his loud, open-mouthed moan and warm breath ricocheting against your clit are anything to go by. It might just be the hottest thing you've ever experienced, cunt squeezing deathly around his poised tongue that dips in and almost gets trapped.

He growls, freeing it, and slaps your ass again, soothingly squeezing the sting away. Arms muscles taut as he holds your hips up and away so he doesn't quite literally drown in all of your arousal.

Still, licking his lips and tasting more of your tantalizing essence on them, he desires more.

"Think I can make you squirt?" He also thinks he deserves even more. "With just my tongue? Or… " A finger traces around the soft skin of your pussy lips, admiring the clenching and unclenching hole above him. "My fingers? Think you can do it for me, sweet thing?"

Instead of replying, you simply turn your head to the side so you can meet his dark brown, carnal eyes. Teeth scrape along that devastating vein and nibble on the sensitive skin that connects his pelvis to his cock.

"Watch it," he hisses, "easy, babe."

You whine, batting your eyelashes and mouth first curving downwards as it presses against his lower body before curling upwards in a smirk. "Only ever squirted with a dildo."

Soonyoung eyes your tiger lily tattoo and places an oddly domestic-like smooch to it. "Of course, the brat would challenge me."

"Wasn't — "

You let out the most unflattering squeak as he drops you back down on his mouth, slurping at your cunt again with an addition of a harsh suck. Before you can let him get too carried away, you match his pace.

beg4gyu: am i just a fly on the wall????

beg4gyu: do i even exist here?????

wooluv: 🥲 no

wooluv: none of us do

deathbyd1cks: baby im not even here im a hallucination 👍

Licking from the base up to the slit that's trembling in your hold as your hand runs up a different vein, this time on the underside of his dick after another teasing squeeze to his balls. Deep-throating with much more ease, swallowing two to three times before coming up for air, and diving back down again.

Rinse and repeat.

Soonyoung's hand sneaks between your body and his lower lip to fondle at your clit, pinching and pulling like a demon, though gentle in his actual administrations. The lovingly clumsy mannerisms of your best friend before are nowhere to be found in this pussy-drunk beast of a man who aims with precision at all your exact weak spots. Or maybe he was like that all along…

And that's perfectly fine because damn Seokmin but he was right — you're positively, utterly, completely dick-drunk.

"In love with… in love with this pussy of yours," he rasps out and you mumble nonsense with a full mouth, responding more with the enticing wiggle of your hips. Encouraging him to bring you to that precipice, over it, and more while you return the favor.

deathbyd1cks: 📹 damn almost caught it in 4k

AnonymousUser7021: was there a lag??? did i miss smth??

deathbyd1cks: the confession of the century 😔 ✊

wooluv: HUH?

beg4gyu: HWAT???? THEYRE A THING???

crazy4w00: well not yet…

wooluv: 💔 so there's still hope 🥹

h0n3ybun: cute

cherry_scouper95: cute n all but r we ever gonna finish here??

cherry_scouper95: this dude's stamina…

kingh0ng: now who's weak? 😆 🫵

cherry_scouper95: 🖕

You're almost just as frustrated as cherry_scouper95. A mix of a growl and whine rises in your throat whenever it's granted reprieve in between thrusts, nails scratching and leaving crescent moon marks along his tense, sticky thighs. Because goddamn, even though his cock looks so achingly hard that it could probably stay up straight on its own, growing more difficult to bend it down your throat — he shows barely a hint of nearing that sweet release. You huff, cold air whooshing across his shaft and balls that has him jolting beneath you.

A brain cell lights up.

Sliding down his body, away from his mouth, and ignoring the devastating loss as well as his surprised groan of disappointment. Focusing as it turns to one that is pleasantly breathless in enjoyment when your breasts squish around his length instead. Pornographic moans ring out as the back of his head hits the mattress and shameful cries of "baby, babe, love," fill the air, so loud that the viewers have to lower their volume by a few decibels.

"Oh, fuck… "

It only takes two slides up and down between your tits before Soonyoung's hips take on a mind of their own without your hands to hold him still. Rutting unapologetically and unforgiving up into the enclosed space, using your chest like it was nothing but a cocksleeve or fleshlight toy.

You revel in it.

Appreciating the pathetic grips and grabs at your asscheeks as he fails to ground himself. Sticking out your tongue to meet the pretty pink head that pokes through with each thrust tugging the foreskin back and forth as it rubs against your soft, tender skin.

You're positive he's almost lost control, surely chafing your skin despite the insane amount of wetness. Of course, you don't mind at all and add whatever moisture is left in your mouth so it can drip down your shared bodies, mixing in with the filthy, sopping mess that's probably ruined your bed.

Soonyoung's intent on that promise, finally gathering hold on some of his wits to raise his head back up. Removing a hand to prop it behind his neck, the other one trails downward, pulling the fat of your ass slightly up. Your lower body presses into his to support the actions of your chest and torso but he's still able to see your empty hole leaking arousal all over the front of his body.

You're right where he needs you. Wants you.

A digit pushes in to bury inside your cunt that greets the welcome, thick intrusion with a sickening squelch. He starts knuckle-deep out of caution before exploring farther, middle finger (essentially giving the viewers a big "fuck all of you" while inside your pussy) readily seeking out that bundle of nerves to brush against that he found in the shower. Stroking them relentlessly once found by his finger nestled within, and grinning sadistically when you cry out. Clit rubbing against the rough, top indentations of his abs.

"C'mon, baby… soak me. I know this nasty little hole can do it, know you can do it." Soonyoung growls when you feebly garble out his screen name. "That's right… mark me, baby 'n make me yours. Bet they're all crying out for you right now. But you'll do it all for me, just f'me, right?"

A strangled "Yes, Hoshi!" is ripped out of you followed by a wrecked sob as you grope at your nipples out of habit, coincidentally continuing to squeeze and release your tits around his weeping shaft.

"Together!" you also beg with a scream, pleading for his release as well. The repetitive pulsating of his cock gains more consistency to match the rapid thumping of your heart beating in time against it which thrills you.

"Together," he confirms, "always."

AnonymousUser1205: wow hot damn

beg4gyu: just bc hes right doesnt mean he has to say it

beg4gyu: esp if he gets to be w/tigress >:(

cumdaywh0ring: let's gooooo

cumdaywh0ring: let's fcking gooooooooo

There's an audible hiss heard from both of you as your pussy lips tighten around Sooonyoung's finger, almost cutting off his circulation like a rubber band wound too many times. Cunt suctioning yet pushing him out, trapped as if his digit is a fish caught up in a dam, as you start to gush. Droplets of your essence dribbling down his flexed wrist that attempts to thrust within its limited range to coax you through your climax more.

"That's it, that's a good fuckin' baby," he praises and grunts, white spurts of cum erupting as his own release hits. "My baby. Take it, love. Take all of it 'cause you're mine, aren't you?"

The feeling of his cum hitting your face, tits, and mouth that's open already from moaning like the true star cammer that you are plus his hoarse voice repeating the demanding possession of, "Aren't you?," has you screaming out a confirmative "Yes, baby!". And then you're really gushing, squirting as desired because of his fingers and mouth, harder than you ever thought you could be capable of. Successfully ejecting Soonyoung's digit out in a spray that seems to last an eternity as you seize up and shudder and shake until you can give no more.

Most of it lands on his chest, dousing him and wetting the poor bed. With both of his arms free, he can basically do a light curl-up, tongue sticking out to catch whatever he can like a heathen. His balls empty and empty out across your face until his cock finally plops against your rubbed-raw chest, almost as weary as you are as it starts to soften.

You may look like a complete and utter mess and wreck. But no one thinks you could look any prettier than you do now in this moment, especially Soonyoung whose muscles protest when he forces himself to move.

kingh0ng: is this heaven or hell

newuserjk: why not… limbo 😼

h0n3ybun: oh?

deathbyd1cks: 😏

newuserjk: $5 off, sale ends in 2 min!

wooluv: my god… 😓 these ads

kitkat69: imma need 10 business days to recover,,,,

He fumbles a bit, hazy mind struggling to stop the livestream as he hastily thanks everyone for watching. Once it appears to have turned off, he chews on his bottom lip and decides to just power off the whole computer system for good measure.

"Hey." Handing you a water bottle after downing a few sips, he also grabs the towels and wipes from the table you'd prepared beforehand. Laying them down on the upper, cleaner part of the bed and collapsing back on the mattress with a bounce. "You with me, babe?"

Though your eyes are still glassy, you nod. Relief as the water soothes your scratchy throat. "I am, you good?"

"Perfect."

You both know you need to clean up properly before resting but it seems alright for now to just lay there and catch your breath. Soonyoung pulls you into his chest, rubbing circles on your back as a chill sets in — metaphorically and physically — in the sudden eerie silence shared between just the two of you in this room.

"Thank you."

Your best friend giggles. He goddamn giggles. "Was I that good that you're thanking me?"

A beat of silence.

"Honestly, yeah you were. More than good, you were great. With everything. So yeah, thank you."

"No, thank you." It's said with such gratitude, such conviction, and then a kiss is placed on the top of your head. Your heart thuds erratically. "You were perfect. Everything I've ever imagined and more."

"S-Soonyoung? "

"Hm?"

"… Wake me up in ten."

"Okay. But we'll have to wash up after, alright?"

You nod against his chest, shutting your eyes tightly. He inhales deeply, jostling you a bit to reach his phone and set the timer before tossing it onto the bed. Both of you miss when your respective phones light up with new messages.

"Soonyoung?"

"Yeah?"

Despite the way you want to relax and pretend like there's not the looming elephant in the room to face, you have to ask.

Even if it hurts.

"So… what happens next?"

◇ Find out more in Part 3... cumming soon 😉 (like to charge, reblog to cast)

#ez.creates #svthub #kwon hoshi smut #hoshi smut #kwon soonyoung smut #soonyoung smut #kpop smut #kvanity #smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #svt.smut

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khuzena · 6 months

Text

12:59

| Michael Kaiser x g/n!reader

summary: everyone in life comes and goes, but sometimes he wishes you stayed; but it's too big of a request to ask.

Warning: toxic rs,no happy ending, cry bitches. Angst, Angst, Angst. (Cheating again because this man is the reddest, crimson flag ever)

A/n: was writing this in school, no activities for the entire day so i was writing this. (This is so cringe oh my god i swear I'll write fluff next time what character do you guys want as long as it aint barou because idk how to write him..)

It sometimes gets too hard to breathe at night.

There are times where he'd find solace in your embrace, you've made home in his heart and you know.

The cupid to your psyche, the romeo to his juliet. So tempting yet so dangerous.

Trust, such a simple thing yet so hard to keep and attain. Something he's won from you years ago yet he lost instantly.

A prodigy as he, the loyal man he used to be.

Rainy days like these you'd find yourself in his well-sculpted arms, inhaling his scent and his kisses marking you his.

Two weeks before the fallout, he's been a distant man, eyes filled with disdain for you and you don't know why. Just a month ago there were flowers on your doorstep, a genuine compliment through text and light kisses pressed on your forehead here and there.

Though recently, he's been looking at you with such hate in his eyes, like you ruined his life— like you're the reason you brought pain and suffering in his world. Why?

There you were, sitting at the marble kitchen island and eating some fresh fruits while watching a boring show on your phone.

Kaiser walked past you as he grabbed an energy drink from the fridge, not even sparing you a single glance.

"Hey, love." You said smiling, nervously fidgeting your fingers under the table.

Kaiser rolled his eyes before looking at you with such disgust. Was your hair really that unkempt? Did your acne come back again? Was he no longer attracted to you? Or was it because he's found someone else. You don't know but these questions spiral in your brain, wondering, asking where you went wrong.

"Hey." He replied, the irritation in his voice was too obvious.

"Can we talk?"

If anyone could see you right now they would compare you to a homeless man asking for scraps or spare change. But at least a hobo has more dignity than you.

Like a broke man begging for money and food to survive, you're pleading, throwing away all your dignity— if you even had any left; begging for a tiny speck of his attention. Some answer, some closure for why he's been treating you like this.

"I don't have time for that and you know it, I have a game again next week in france. Let's talk next time when I have the time"

Confusion and anger boiling in you at this point, what do you mean he has no time for a simple conversation? When he has all the time in the world to do stupid shit without you when he's actually free.

"What the fuck? You barely have any fucking time for me."

He stared down at you with a blanm expression, it was irritating how he wasn't even taking you seriously.

He didn't say a word before walking away to the comfort of his room.

A week later he came home.

It was 12:59 am.

A knock on your door disturbed the peace in the living room, you made your way to the main door. Sighing with relief that it was him, that he got home safely from whatever team party he attended.

"'M sorry…"

Your eyes widened, the moment you opened the door he lunged himself at you; his grip as he hugged you not loosening.

"What happened to you, micha?..."

The smell of alcohol getting on you, the red lipstick stains on his blouse and how pathetically dishevelled that man was.

The sight took your ability to speak away for a moment. You've never expected this, he told you earlier that he'd just be drinking with his team but to go as far as this?

"Don't touch me."

Kaiser tightened his grip, the shame on his face says it all. He's never cried this hard before as his tears soaked your shirt, "Liebling.."

"I said go away." Venom dripped from your voice, causing him to flinch in his very drunk state.

A loud thud can be heard throughout the house as he fell on his knees, like the shameless bastard he is, he cried, "I still love you", "I won't do it again I promise", "You're everything, please, schatz"

The next day, he was lying on the couch. His bags being too dark one could mistake him for a panda.

Even though his stomach is growling loudly, vomit bubbling in his throat or face dried with tears he couldn't help but just wail.

Hands trembling as he looked to the alarm clock to his left, 12:59 pm. Kaiser's legs wobbled as he checked every room, looking for a sign you were there but no.

"Liebling! Please, please. Where are you?"

His voice echoed in the walls of his apartment but there was no one who answered back.

Kaiser's lost you and it's all his fault yet he wailed pathetically on the floor, holding on to the railings of his stairs like someone took you away from him.

As time passed by, he's lost count of the days he's skipped training. His hunger being his least concern even though he barely eats nowadays as he spends most of his time staring at the ceiling.

Wishing for a miracle, wishing that god hears his prayer for one last time.

In this time of deep depression his spotify playlist has become his friend, his pillow being the tissue for his tears and the sheets crumpled from his thrashing around the bed.

kaiser: please come abck

kaiser: back***

kaiser: please

kaiser: i love you

kaiser: liebling

kaiser: liebling lets talk

kaiser: please.

*seen*

It's hopeless.

No matter how many times he blew up your phone with calls and texts you never answered. Though you never even blocked him too.

It was that time again, he called you again. Screen stained with tears as his eyes sparkled with hope when you finally picked up.

"Liebling, im sorry, im sorry."

The call was still on but he could only hear your heavy breathing, his breath hitched as he shakily held his phone to his ear.

"I know my sorrys won't change anything, but I still love you."

"I can't live without you"

"You're my everything."

"Please."

Please.

Still not a single word from you, he plopped down on his bed as he stared into nothing again in his empty room.

"Michael, stop."

He clutched his phone to his chest as he sobbed quietly, making sure you didn't hear him.

"Yeah, sorry."

"Stop apologising, Michael," you let out a sigh, "let's break up"

"Yeah, sure. Good night"

The call ended right then and there.

Kaiser kept replaying your voicemails over and over again. His nerves calmed down for a bit until the reality set in, he'd never hear your voice again.

There will no longer be any you standing outside the door with your arms wide open to congratulate him on his win or a lover he'd call his. The person he vowed to love and protect forever, gone.

And it's all his fault.

For one last time, he checked his phone as he saw a notification on his lock screen. The bright light almost blinded him.

love: i know you're still awake

love: go to sleep

*sent 12:59 am*

He sighed, putting away his phone and staring at the clock.

"Yeah, maybe it is getting late"

Note: we js had a halloween party 2 days ago, cosplayed as krul, had so much fun. °^°>🍦. I'll stop writing for kaiser i swear im js obsessed w him :((( (this fic not proofread m sorryyy)

#blue lock fanfic #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk angst #blue lock ansgt #blue lock fluff #kaiser x reader #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x reader #kaiser fluff #kaiser angst

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mxauthor · 10 days

Text

Too Good for Me

Summary: Chilchuck loves his wife, but he thinks she's too good for him.

Word Count: 1,944

Warnings: a little angsty, maybe ooc Chilchuck, half-foot reader, one curse word, fluff near the end

Within the half-foot community, everyone knows that Chilchuck Tims and Y/n L/n were meant to be. Both of their parents having lived close to each other, the once small children grew up together.

Playing tag as small children, turned into shy hand holding and blushy kisses. Chilchuck adored Y/n with all his heart, nothing could stop him from coming home to her, not even the dark dungeons he found himself in. While Y/n believed that Chilchuck was her whole world. Having loved him since they were kids, Y/n only wished for her Chil to come home safe and sound to her.

Their love continued to bloom throughout the years, having married young and created a family, the Tims couldn’t be happier.

Chilchuck loves his wife. He’d do anything for her, he’d do anything to keep her happy and smiling. Shining like the sun, even if it meant she’d shine with someone other than him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n could tell that something was bothering her husband.

It didn’t take much, especially since he was so easy to read. She watched as his brows furrowed and his nose wrinkled. His lips were slightly downturned as well, completing his ‘mr grump face’.

With careful foot steps, Y/n approached the chair her husband was currently occupying. Once behind, she slid her arms around his shoulders and kissed the side of his head, “Good evening Mr. Grump, would you happen to know if my husband was available.” Having felt the slump of his shoulders and hearing his defeated, albeit amused, sigh Y/n knew she temporarily soothed the omelet of thoughts running through his mind.

“I’ll ring him in for you Mrs. Y/n.” the auburn haired man jokes, before turning his gaze to catch the loving eyes of his wife. “Hello sweetheart.”

She peaked his lips lovingly, “Hi lovie. Is something the matter? It’s been a while since the ‘grumpy face’ has come out.” Y/n voiced. A wife can’t help but be concerned for her husband, especially since he works dangerous jobs just for them.

“Everythings fine, just thinking about a request of some sort.” Chilchuck smiled tiredly. His mind has been reeling about what one of his party members asked. While departing from the dungeon, Moslie, had caught the small huff Chilchuck exclaimed about seeing his wife after so long.

It didn’t take much, to cause Chilchuck to rant and rave about his wife back home. The group laughed and poked at the pink faced half-foot. Making him swear he’ll bring her to the tavern to meet them. But after sobering up, Chilchuck didn’t want to follow through anymore. His work and his life were two separate things.

He wanted to keep them separate for as long as he could, but knowing that the moment he mentions it to Y/n, her radiant smile will kill all the courage to tell her nevermind and not have them meet at all.

“Anything I can shoulder with you.” Her sweet voice pierced through Chilchuck’s thoughts. Her nose nudged his cheek, her arms still loose around his neck. The phrase ‘with him’ caused his heart to stutter. Knowing that she’d carry his problems with him, knowing that she’d support him with anything. Knowing that she’d be at his side forever, made the decision harder and harder.

Chilchuck would be with her and carry everything with her until their skeletons turned to dust, which is why he wants to keep her all to himself.

Her smile alone makes the sun burn with envy. Anyone would be lucky to have her.

And he wanted to say lucky.

But knowing that the smallest meeting with his party would cause even the stars to shine brighter with how much she’d beam. Chilchuck had no other option but to lift his half of the world into her awaiting hands.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chilchuck sat silently at the table within the tavern. He watched as Y/n floated around, speaking excitedly with all members of the party. Even chatting with the wives that they’ve brought along. Her excitement almost made everything worth it.

Almost.

The auburn haired half-foot watched as his Y/n blushed red at something said to her. She then became bashful and her smile turned into something heart stopping. She looked away, before catching the eye of Chilchuck, then looking back again. A mutter of a response before Y/n excused herself for the conversation to talk with another member, luckily a woman this time.

Chilchuck watched with insecure eyes, feeling like his greatest nightmare was happening before him and all he could do was watch. He hated being a part of a scene. Having everyone stare at him, waiting for his next comeback or action. And within the full tavern, that was surely the outcome.

So he drank instead.

Not enough to get him hammered and stumbling but enough to where his wife would always choose him. Enough to quiet the insecurities just for a moment. Enough to trick himself into believing that he was enough for Y/n, that she would never leave. That she’d want to spend the rest of her life with him.

And it worked, until it didn’t. They always came back and it was getting harder to fight them.

So he let them win and kept drinking the night away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The walk back to their little home seemed much longer than necessary. Almost like all the paths taken have stretched themselves while two were away. Chilchuck walked the path silent. His head hung low, the alcohol continued to flow through his system.

The half-foot refused to look towards his wife, not wanting her to see his defeated expression. Chilchuck knew since childhood that Y/n was too good for him. That his grumpy and sour nature wasn’t worth her sticking around. He knew that he dulled her and just tonight, his thoughts were confirmed.

She practically glowed all throughout the night. Her bubbly nature was addicting enough, Chilchuck almost didn’t need a drop of alcohol for the night. But her glow, directed at all his party members, made him feel sick. Seeing her bounce and laugh joyously, seeing her blush and dance with them just told Chilchuck that she’d be happier with someone other than him.

How could she love a grump like him? How can she stay and wait for him for days on end? How could she simply be happy?

Chilchuck grumbled to himself, reaching the door of their home. The man made quick work with the lock and entered, leaving it open for his wife that was tailing right behind him.

Y/n walked through and saw as her husband grabbed one of the wine bottles stored in the cabinets, taking a large drink and sitting himself at the table. She watched as he grumbled with himself. As if he was in an argument of some kind.

His body language saying to leave him alone. That he wasn’t in the mood for any human interaction.

But she took a tentative step towards him anyway. She moved his body to lean against her anyway. She wrapped her arm around his head to keep him against her anyway. She wrapped her other arm over his shoulder anyway.

She held him anyway.

And she continued to hold him as he cried.

Chilchuck gripped onto Y/n’s arm, making it so she can’t let go. So she can’t leave. He wanted to push her off, tell her that he wasn’t good enough, break her heart so she could leave and be happy with someone else. Someone who’d make her shine and laugh and dance. Someone who can talk about his feelings. Someone who’d take her on dates everyday. Someone who’d give her flowers and tell her they love her everyday.

Someone who isn’t him.

“You deserve better than me, Y/n.” his voice came out meek. Like it was painful for him to even say the words in the first place. Y/n looked at Chilchuck with bewilderment, not believing he’d even say such a thing. All her love for him was ready to pour out, but the tightening grip on her arm silenced them.

“I’m a grumpy old man, who’s gone all the time. An old man that’s bitter and emotionless. I don’t even tell you I love you. I don’t bring you gifts or flowers. I never talk about work or anything else and you just met my co-workers after 2 years of me working with them.” Chilchuck ranted. His tears continued to fall, voice weavering between words. His hold still tight, no matter how much he believed he wasn’t enough for her, Chilchuck wanted her to stay right there, needed her to stay with him. “I’m a lousy husband and barely a good enough father. You don’t need someone like me holding you down.”

Y/n dipped her head down, lay her forehead against Chilchuck’s crown. She breathed deeply before speaking, “I no longer feel pretty. I’ve outgrown my gowns and I feel fat. Our daughters prefer their father over me. I think I’m a terrible mother and they don’t love me as much as they love you. I say home wait for my husband because he’s the only thing that makes me smile anymore. But even then, I don’t think I’m pretty enough for him.” She rose her head and turned his, until they were meeting eye to eye. Y/n took in his slightly red nose, the tears within his eyes and the water path the previous ones made. Her gaze softened, tears of her own welling up in her eyes, her hand coming up to cup his face, wiping the tears.

“But seeing the way he looked at me tonight. Like I’ve given him life, was enough to show me that he loves me as much as I love him.” She leaned down and rested their heads together. Chilchuck closed his eyes, taking in her warmth. “And god I love him so. His beautiful eyes and sweet smile. His warm embrace and powerful kisses. His grumpiness in the mornings, that always softens when I cuddle him. His loving words and sweet gestures. It makes me swoon every time. I love him dearly and deeply. And nothing could change that, nothing could make me stop loving you Chilchuck. Not when we were kids and definitely not now.

“I don’t need gifts or flowers. I don’t need you to tell me you love me all the time. I don’t need to know about work and I could’ve gone a whole lifetime without meeting your friends because all I need is you. You in my arms, your kisses on my lips, your life entangled with mine.”

Chilchuck slowly pulled away, looking into Y/n’s eyes. All he could see was love and adoration, like he hung the stars themselves.

“I love you Chilchuck Tims. And I know you love me. That’s all I need.”

Chilchuck crashed his lips to hers. Pulling her into a searing breathless kiss. Y/n kissed him back just as hard. Trying to suffocate all of his own insecurities to make them die with her love alone. Chilchuck pulled her onto his lap, holding her close as he continued to kiss her breathless.

Within this moment, Chilchuck believed himself stupid for wanting his beautiful wife to find someone else. Stupid to think that she’d even think of going anywhere without him.

Stupid to believe that she didn’t love him the way he loved her because at this moment he’s drowning within her love and he’d die right there.

Because loving her was lucky.

And he was fucking lucky.

#chilchuck x reader #chilchuck tims x reader #chilchuck imagines #chilchuck x femreader #Chilchuck x y/n #chilchuck tims #chilchuck dunmeshi #dungeon meshi #dunmeshi #dunmeshi x reader #xreader #x reader #x fem reader #x yn #delicious in dungeon x reader #delicious in dungeon imagines #delicious in dungeon #reader #mx works

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just-jordie-things · 11 months

Note

11 and 34 for satoru with happy ending???

11: "I Almost Lost You" Kiss 34: Returned From The Dead Kiss ** current manga spoilers but also i haven't read this part myself yet either so it's not totally accurate lmfao** also hope this is good enough bc it's not super specific to the prompts but it's the same idea, yeah? ___

it had been weeks since satoru had been sealed in that damn box.

the world around you had fallen into chaos in a matter of minutes since word got out that the great gojo satoru was in the prison realm. curses and curse users seemed to crawl out of the shadows and the depths of hell itself to celebrate his removal from this plane. every day there was a new strife, a new challenge, just to keep up with exorcising all the curses that came out of hiding.

not to mention the weight of fear you carried, not knowing of his well being.

was he even alive in there? you worried, your mind too occupied with anxiety for you to properly patrol the area you were asked to.

there weren't many jujutsu sorcerers left. so many retired. so many died.

was he okay? you wondered. time worked differently in the prison realm, but that was about all you knew of it. it was supposed to be a rare object, but geto suguru had found it and used it with ease. would he ever return?

as the reminder of suguru crossed your mind, your teeth grit together. your eyes focused on a rather rowdy group of teenagers on the street, distracted.

your feelings about the man who'd once been your friend were always complicated. after he'd reportedly killed his family and went on to slaughter hundreds of non-sorcerers, you struggled with the way you missed him. no matter what he seemed to do, what heinous acts he committed, some nights you'd still cry yourself to sleep because you wished things could go back to the way they were.

most of those nights, satoru sat awake with you, comforting you as you wept and reminisced over simpler times, happier memories. he'd spend hours combing his fingers through your hair and cooing to you softly about how he missed those days, too.

and now that you were here, now that sartoru was sealed away, and suguru was to blame, it was as though all of your feelings became crystal clear.

you hated geto suguru. you hated everything about him. you hated who he'd become. you hated that he'd let himself take such a dark path. you hated that he'd betrayed you, and satoru, and shoko, and jujutsu sorcerers everywhere. but right now, you mostly hated him for what he'd done to satoru.

and satoru, on the other hand...

you loved gojo satoru. you loved everything about him. you'd grown to love him over many years, but you'd known you'd fallen when he'd give up his free nights to console you, to ease your heart and mind, and helped you rest. you loved that he kept you close, after everything that happened. you loved the effort he'd made to always know what you were up to, and how you were doing. you loved him for loving you, in whatever way he did, you knew he did.

with a huff, you deemed the area safe for now, and made the trek back to your apartment. if you mustered up the energy you could have jogged there to make it to the comfort of your bed sooner, but you just couldn't bring yourself to do it.

so even in the dead of night, and even as you watched storm clouds rolling in, you walked yourself back home.

you've been trying to remain positive for so long, for the students, for the other sorcerers, you knew that your position as satoru's closest friend had meant you'd have to put on a brave face and ensure everyone that hope was not lost, that at the end of the day things would be okay and good would triumph because that's how it was supposed to be.

but you were feeling hopeless. and you'd carried that feeling since that day in shibuya when itadori had told you his sensei had been sealed away. you remember every second of the short interaction. his wide eyes, his shaky voice, the way he'd asked you what that meant, and then looked to you for guidance on how to help. you'd sent him off rather quickly to help at the bus station, but truthfully, you just needed him gone so he couldn't see your entire foundation crumbling.

and then the deaths of your friends, of your students, of people you'd fought alongside all your life, they all began piling up, and you couldn't help but feel hopeless. what else was there to feel?

the man who's mere existence was supposed to put all of this at ease was gone, and you were starting to think he'd never come back.

cold drops of rain begin to hit your face just as you make it to your apartment. you supposed you should consider yourself lucky that you'd made it home before the storm really started, but such positive emotion was squashed by the weight of your anguish.

it was only a matter of time before you were killed too, you thought bitterly, more irritated by the notion than afraid. you were getting reckless. running on little sleep and barely eating meant your energy was always on low battery. the last few curses you'd had to exorcize were low enough in grade that you considered yourself lucky, but you knew that if you ran into a grade one- or a special grade- that you'd be lucky if your death was quick.

"what am i going to do?" you mutter to no one and nothing in particular as you dig in your pocket for your keys.

the rain seemed to have stopped, as you realized you no longer felt the chilly wet drops hitting your head. i could have sworn the skies were overcast just a minute ago, you pondered, ignoring your door for a second longer to tilt your head back to check the night sky.

sure enough, the stars weren't visible, and the sprinkle had turned into a full on down pour. you even heard distant rumbles of thunder, now that you were paying attention.

but curiously, you remained dry. you remained untouched.

you weren't under an awning, and you obviously didn't have an umbrella, so you weren't sure what caused this phenomena.

your brows furrowed as you stretched your hand out in front of you, reaching as far as you could, and to your surprise, you remained dry. when you brought your hand back to your chest again, you studied it curiously, wondering if this was somehow your doing.

experimenting again, you reached your hand upwards, but still, not matter what direction you lunged, the rain fell around you without touching you.

"what the hell?" you mumbled, checking the pavement below you now.

you could see a clear line before you, where the pavement had been pelted by raindrops, but it stopped just in front of your feet. this had to be the most peculiar thing you'd ever seen.

you turned in either direction, and just as you thought, to your left and right, there was a dry patch of pavement underneath you. an amused smile dares to creep on your lips as you turn your head to see just how far this dry patch stretched.

but as you turned to check the ground behind you, you find the dry patch stretched a few feet back, and clung around another figure.

the air is knocked out of your lungs as you saw that familiar shock of white hair, and you sputter for a second before you're gasping and tears are stinging your eyes.

you're running at full speed with abandon, and you don't slow down as you grow nearer, to until you've crashed into him and knocked the air out of him, too.

strong arms wrap around and you and hold you tightly against his chest, not that he needs to, you're clinging onto him with your arms around his neck and your legs wrapping around his hips to keep yourself in place.

for a moment, you just hold each other, wordlessly, too busy gasping for air and sharing breathless laughs of relief. your face is buried in the crook of his neck, and his is lost in your hair, breathing in your familiar scent he'd damn near forgotten.

when you do finally pull away, it's only for a split second, just long enough to see satoru's pretty face is unharmed, before your hands are grabbing the collar of his tee shirt and your tugging him against you so fast your lips slam together.

it's messy, your teeth clash and you're panting so hard that it's difficult to properly kiss him, but neither of you seem to mind one bit.

just a minute ago you were certain you'd never see him again, so you'll take any scrap of closeness that you can get.

he has one arm wrapped under your legs to help support you, but his free hand tangles in your hair, pulling you back while he gasps for breath.

he's not sure what he'd expected when he'd warped his way to your apartment, but he wasn't expecting this.

your teary eyes flicker between his as you finally find your voice.

"oh my god, you're real," you say through heavy breaths, your shock still not having worn off. "you're here- you're alive"

satoru chuckles, nodding back at you, pressing his forehead into yours to better look into your eyes. he's not sure how much time had passed exactly, but he knows he missed your eyes more than anything else.

"i'm alive," he assures you, his lips whispering against your own, before he gives you a longer, deeper kiss. when he pulls away again, he presses his lips into your cheek, next. "i'm here, i'm home"

"i thought-" you choke on your burning throat. "i thought you were gone, i thought- i thought I'd never see you again," you're tearing up again, the weight of your emotions confusing you, but you still muter a smile as you look at him. "i thought i lost you" you whimper out.

"oh, baby," he sighs, setting you down on your feet so that he could wipe our tears away. "you didn't lose me, i'm right here," he assures you, and you nod, leaning into the warmth of his palm. "and i'm not going anywhere, never again, okay?"

you nod back at him, shutting your eyes as you relished in the comfort of his presence. his thumb strokes your cheek as he finally takes you in. there's bags under your eyes, and you look skinner, maybe even more frail. he frowns at the state you're in, but decides to ignore it for now. there would be time later to get you both back on a healthy track. right now all either of you wanted was to be wrapped up in the other.

keeping his infinity on like an umbrella, the two of you embrace tightly. hands clinging desperately to one another, just to make sure there was nothing that could take either one of you away.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru brainrot #satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru #gojo #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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thatsdemko · 1 year

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famous - w.nylander

masterlist

requested: n

pairings: William Nylander x famous!reader

warnings: none?? soft willy

a/n: requests are still open! to find who I write for click here

the cameras followed you everywhere. from downtown Toronto to your small little hometown, they couldn’t seem to get enough of you. so it was no surprise when the flashes of cameras began to appear outside of scotiabank arena attempting to follow you inside to watch your boyfriends hockey game.

“y/n, are you here for Auston Matthews?” “who are you here to see?” “is it true one of the leafs players is your secret husband?” and many other questions were being screamed at you as you tried to get into the arena safely. security was attempting to block the mob off of cameras when you successfully made it inside letting out a sigh of relief. so much for just trying to be a normal fan and enter like everyone else.

the questions were only partially true. you weren’t there for Auston Matthews, but you were there to see your secret boyfriend of four years, William. it was the only thing you were able to keep private about your life. you loved sharing your life with your fans and friends, but you couldn’t bare to let the world know this secret. not when things were just starting to get good.

“you attract one hell of a crowd, don’t you?” a security guard asked watching you remove the sunglasses from your face. you should’ve known better that sunglasses on a grey day were going to give you away.

“I try not too.” you smiled grabbing your things from the security bins posing for a quick picture with one of the guards that had his phone out. one thing about being famous was you could never turn down a photo. even if it exposes where you were this Saturday evening.

“should we have security escort you out after the game?”

you smiled shaking your head putting your sunglasses back on, “no that won’t be necessary, I’ll be leaving with my boyfriend.” you pressed a soft smile to your lips heading inside to the concourse being surrounded by people just like you. happy and excited leaf’s fans. being famous was always fun; seeing people recognize you and cheer for you to win an award, but nothing made you more excited and happy to see a ‘Nylander’ jersey on a leafs fan.

you moved at a fast pace to avoid being stopped to get to your seat. you noticed the stares, whispers, and jaws dropping as you moved by. you wish you could ignore them, but you knew what they were saying. just like every other page 5 tabloid was saying, “who is the lucky guy that got y/n to move from the sunny Los Angeles to Toronto?”

will always laughed at those articles because he never has to convince you once to move to Canada. you made yourself right at home in his apartment without any say from him.

when you finally found your spot you removed your sunglasses to get a better look at things, and there he was. tossing pucks to kids during warmups and skating with glee. he always called you his good luck charm, and he was right. every game you ever attended of his he played spectacular. that even went for tonight too.

you couldn’t wait to read the headlines of the morning newspaper tomorrow. you knew they were going to be about just how well he was playing. you knew you’d hang it on the fridge for him to read when he woke up first thing. you could just see the smile on his face.

once the game had ended and William was announced the first star of the night you, and security, made your way down to the locker rooms. you couldn’t wait to engulf him in the biggest hug and tell him how much you loved him.

when you got down there you spotted the mop of blonde hair in a blue uniform and you pushed your way through trainers, security, and other players to get to him, “there he is! my first star!” you practically jumped into his arms. you didn’t care for the hockey equipment smell and the scent of body odor. you were just too proud.

he didn’t want to let go, he loved how affectionate you were to him in private. even he never got to show you off publicly, things like this always made him realize how worth it was to be with you.

he pulled away from the hug, his hands moved from your back to your waist not wanting to let you go just yet. he knew reporters were coming soon and he’d have to pretend he didn’t know you were even here for the team.

“I heard you caused quite the stir outside of the arena? how are we going to sneak out of here?” he chuckled, he could only imagine if he ever went out with you after the game to his car. it would be a war zone, he’s seen you be mobbed before and he only wished he was there to punch the cameras out of your face.

you shrugged with a sheepish smile, “maybe we just don’t? maybe I get to show the world I’m dating the hottest hockey player.” your cheeks flushed with color, embarrassed, hoping he will say yes to your proposal. you knew he couldn’t resist, he finally would be proving to his teammates he had the hottest significant other.

“if it’s what you want,” he paused looking at the reporters starting to line up outside of the locker room. he saw the gaping mouths and the whispers at the two of you together, “then we can.” he nudged his head in the direction of cameras beginning to be pulled out to snap pictures of you both. turning around just in time, camera flashes began to fill your eyes and there was only thing you could think of doing before sending him off to answer questions about the game.

you turned back around deciding to press your lips onto his. you could feel him almost pull back, before finally giving in. he kissed you back. you could hear the shuttering of the cameras and the movement of the reporters. they were trying hard to ignore you both going into the locker room for questions, but it was impossible to not be drawn to you and him. he knew every question about the game was out the window, but he couldn’t wait to tell everyone about you. it was all he ever wanted.

he pulled away once the final reporter went inside, “time to go answer how I scored the y/n.”

you chuckled at his words, “you didn’t score me, I scored you.”

#hockey imagines #hockey #william nylander #William Nylander imagine #William Nylander fic #William Nylander x reader #William Nylander blurbs #nhl imagines #nhl #nhl blurb #nhl fic #hockey fic #hockey blurb #hockey blurbs #toronto maple leafs #Toronto maple leafs imagine #Toronto maple leafs blurbs

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mamahersh · 1 year

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Mamahersh’s Post-MAG-200 Fanfic Recommendation Mega Thread

@a-mag-a-day

In celebration of us finishing The Magnus Archives (even if I admittedly fell off around S2 and have been mostly lurking since then), I have compiled all of my fave post series fics for your enjoyment! I will be grouping them in some big, general categories, which I’ll list above the read more here. Depending on the size of this post, it might start looking a bit like that “Do you like the sky?” post But I can assure you that I have read all of these and can give them my stamp of approval!

If you finished the series and were wishing for your best boys to finally be happy, then boy howdy do I have some fanfiction for you!

Time Travel

Somewhere Else

AUs

Uncategorized JonMartin Fluff

By these categories, we should hopefully cover all the recommendations I have, and I hope you all find some new fics! (or enjoy rereading fics you haven’t enjoyed in awhile)

TIME TRAVEL

where there’s a will, we make a way by bubonickitten

"So, what does happen if an Eye learns to See within itself?

What happens is this: the Archive Beholds the Watcher – and the Watcher blinks first."

________________________

Jon goes back to before the world ended and tries to forge a different path.

Probably my fave time travel fic in this fandom hands down; it is also currently the longest whilst still unfinished. While I try not to recommend unfinished fics that I am uncertain of their return to activity, this is a big exception and personally I love everything about it! It’s got Jon dealing with trauma through the lens of his speaking only in Statements, Martin being saved from his downward spiral into the Lonely way earlier in S4, Georgie actually sticking around, Basira having a better grasp of the situation and being more understanding about it, and everyone generally sticking close to character while managing to buck parts of the narrative. I cannot recommend this fic enough, and I very likely already did back near the start of S5.

Something’s Different About You Lately by thesnadger

Jonathan Sims has been head archivist for just a few months, but he has memories of holding the position for years. He remembers monsters, and darkness, and the end of the world. Somehow, he'll have to keep everyone safe from what's coming. Meanwhile, his assistants can't understand why their prickly jerk of a boss has gone sappy all of a sudden.

So TMA time travel fics that focus on Jon going back tend to come in two varieties. There’s the “Jon’s mind goes back and replaces himself/inhabits his past self’s body” and then there’s the “Jon physically goes back so there’s two Jons”. The first two on this list are of the first variety, and if I remember right this was one of the first I ever read. However, I recommend this one specifically because this has an amazing ending. Like, it might just be me, but many of the endings in these feel relatively unsatisfying because there’s magically a third option where Jon comes out unscathed while saving his S1 archives crew from the Horrors. For whatever reason, it was incredibly satisfying having a fic that didn’t shy away from the options presented in S4 and S5 and I love how they characterize everyone in this one as well.

100 Seconds to Midnight by starspangledbread

Jon and Martin find themselves back in 2011 after attempting to release the fears from their reality. The world is the same one they left behind, but now something has come back with them. They have a chance to destroy the fears once and for all, but it proves harder than expected. Who knew that the best laid plans could be thwarted by nosy co-workers, office romance, the inevitable learning curve of being a time traveler turned grifter, and the refusal to believe in subtlety?

Did someone say Extinction!Jon? This also is a part of a series, though the true sequel to this one is currently unfinished (though it should eventually be completed and only has one chapter to go). An excellent romp, I definitely recommend if you’re looking for something kinda dark, some comedy, a little OOC, and Martin being able to embrace his crime side in the name of saving the world.

Yesterday is Here by CirrusGrey

"Who the hell are you?" Jon could feel his hands shaking. The man laughed, taking a step forward and raising a hand to point at him. "I'm you, from the future!" he said, then swayed, eyes going unfocused, and collapsed to the floor in a dead faint. -------- Post-season-four Jon and Martin time travel back to the season one Archives.

Written by my fave (and most prolific) JMart author, we have a perfect example of the other kind of time travel fix it fic in the form of Jon physically travelling to the past to try and save the world. As expected by someone I am calling my fave JMart author, we’re going to be getting double dose on the JMart. I highly recommend if you’re looking for something that starts a little bittersweet, but then ends in copious amounts of fluff.

Reverb (Series) by Wolftraps

Undoing the apocalypse would have been enough for Jon, if all his people survived. Without them, Jon's only recourse is making it so it never happened in the first place. He's going to do better this time.

Summary from the first fic in the Reverb series, I highly recommend the first two fics in this series for different reasons. “The Reverb in These Holy Halls” is a great time travel fic that takes some really interesting turns by the end and unlike most fics actually has Jon try to keep Tim safe by keeping him out of the Archives pre-S1. However “Gossip” I recommend if you enjoy those fics formatted to look like official communication of some kind. It’s got people outside the Archives trying to figure out what’s wrong with them during the events of the first fic, and while it would be very confusing to read without the first fic, I’d almost say it’s worth it if you aren’t feeling the tags on the first one. Really fun and entertaining, you can’t go wrong with either one.

The Triumph of Galatea (for Acis is transformed) by TheOestofOCs

Statement of Hazel Rutter.

Jon couldn’t stop reading.

The Fears, however, are a bit more powerful than Jonah gave them credit for. Jon opens the door, but the world can’t hold what’s on the other side.

Time falls through, instead. Past becomes present, and the future is undone.

Statement begins.

Another fic I definitely recommended back at episode 160, but is well worth the second recommendation and/or re-read. Time Travel, but what if Jon could control as well as go into the dreams of the assistants/other Eye aligned people instead of just his victims’ dreams? Very good, even if unfinished, though the author seems likely to finish someday. Check out their other work as well, it’s all very good and has my fave Circus themed fic written to date.

a map of what matters most by gruhukens

“Is that a body,” Tim blurts before he can stop himself, rising to his feet. Martin looks, if possible, even more scared.

“He’s alive!” he hisses, almost defensively. “It’s not - it’s not Gertrude again, I didn’t kill him, he just – I don’t know what happened to him, I just found him in the stacks like this.”

“And you dragged him up here?” Tim says, and then registers several things at once – the build, the hair texture; the little round scars peppering a pair of thin hands and an awfully familiar face. “Wait, is that Jon?”

----

Jon stumbles back into an earlier Archive, looking for a way to fix the world. (Or, mom says it's my turn for the obligatory time travel au)

Directly inspired by CirrusGrey’s fic that I recommended earlier, this is another: Jon travels physically into the past fic. This one though is far more bittersweet than “Yesterday is Here”, but still an excellent read and does a great job at fleshing out the relationships between all the characters.

Saving the Universe: For Dummies by GhostChoir

Finding a man bleeding out in the alleyway was not what Elias wanted to do today. And he certainly didn’t mean to befriend him. But things never did go how he expected.

****** A Post-MAG200 Jon meets a 1970s Elias, an Elias from before he was corrupted by Jonah. Together, the two of them learn to cope with grief, drink more tea than any two people should be able to consume, and commiserate over shitty bosses. Oh, and just for the hell of it, they stop an apocalypse along the way.

Now for a change of pace: What if Jon time travels to the time of early Gertrude and Elias pre-Jonafying? A very good fic is what! While it’s been awhile since I read this, I do remember it’s quite good and deserves a chance. Note: this is NOT Jonathan/Elias, so my apologies if you were looking for that, but it is two very lonely men getting to just have a reliable friend in times of trouble.

A Little Game of Cat and Mouse by Paptato

“Jonah Magnus.” The cloudy silhouette snarled as it’s hand clamped tightly around Jonah's ascot. That was indeed his name, but Jonah couldn’t begin to fathom what he did to have it spat out with such hatred.

But nonetheless, Jonah was a gentleman and he would kindly address the angry figure as politely as possible, “Yes, and you are?”

“What?” The form spluttered as it slowly came into focus. Ah, yes. That probably wasn’t the proper response to being held at gunpoint by a random stranger. Must have been the blow to his head.

(Or in which Jonathan Sims goes back in time and tries to pull a Terminator, but fails and Jonah Magnus finds a new mystery to solve.)

This is that Jonah Magnus/Jonathan Sims enemies to lovers fic your friends warn you about in a good way. It’s not done, but I think it’s still being updated very slowly. Even if all I ever read is the currently released 11 chapters, I will consider it my one exception to my dislike of Jonah/Jon. As you can probably guess by the description, it’s a time travel fix it where Jon gets shunted back in time to when Jonah was still very human and still trying to figure out the Fears. The Web keeps Jon from explaining his circumstances or anything to do with Jonah’s future in particular, but this is a good thing and they both get to learn how to be more human in a world that previously was very antagonistic to those goals. It’s got a heavy dose of comedy, plenty of romantic tension, and lots of both surprising and unsurprising cameos. If you enjoy Dracula Daily, you’ll probably enjoy this imho.

Déjà Vu by CirrusGrey

Sasha remembers being unmade. Tim remembers being Unknown. Jon and Martin remember being unwound. All of them think they're the only one. -------- The S1 crew wakes up in the past with memories up till the moment they died.

So, here’s another one that’s got quite the spin on it. As you can see from the description, this one is where S1 crew all get their minds sent back in time to the time right around Jon’s first statement if I remember right. Another CirrusGrey fic, so it heavily leans on JonMartin, but otherwise it’s a wonderful exploration of the four S1 characters and ends on a very hopeful note!

oh my darling, just a moment of your time by IceEckos12

The Institute is visited by a pair of time travelers, and Jon has an important question for Tim.

Have you ever had a oneshot that just kinda guts you unexpectedly? While this might not do this for everyone, this is an amazing oneshot that gets right the point. I love it a lot, because of all of the fics where future and past meet each other, it very rarely if ever is addressed that past Jon was a douche. Or well it is but past Jon doesn’t necessarily have a character moment from it. Here he does, and despite the briefness of the fic, the author does an amazing job of giving Jon and Tim a moment while making an almost critique of the TMA time travel genre. Highly, highly recommend, and it won’t overstay it’s welcome if it doesn’t end up being your thing.

The Severing of Webs by chlodobird

After Jon kills the world, he travels back in time. Once there, he gets ready to change the future, to save his Assistants, and to watch as everyone learns to hate him again.

Unfortunately, the tapes wrap around him like a fly caught in a Web—he can't move. He's trapped reliving the original timeline, stuck acting out his past actions like an actor rehearsing his lines.

Sasha will die. Tim will die. Martin—

(Jon screams inside his mind, and someone hears him. Fate is not as immutable as he fears.)

This one is a brand new one! While basically all of the others on the list have been out/updating for over a year at this point; this lengthy oneshot just released this month. tbh, very excellent, which is why it has made the list. Also, quite the twist on the usual premise, where being sent back into his head is actually a bad thing this time. Ends with a giant pile of fluff, but who would I be if all my time travel recommendations were not also fix-its?

Somewhere Else

it will be this, always by bluejayblueskies

Jon coughed again, and blood stained his lips and blood stained Martin’s hands where they pressed against Jon’s back and blood stained the floor beneath them and help, they needed help.

Martin doesn’t remember shouting. He barely remembers the faces that had surrounded them, wide-eyed and terrified, all utterly unfamiliar.

Jon and Martin wake up somewhere else. Jon begins a slow path toward physical recovery, and several important, long-put-off conversations are had as they begin to navigate a new world that they hadn’t thought they’d be alive to see.

So, I’m sure you all have gathered that I have qualms with how much disparity there is between canon and fanon Jmart. This fic is painful, but is the most in character depiction of post 200 JMart fallout I have ever read. The ending is very cathartic, and takes a “realistic” approach to what happens to Jon and Martin as they begin to navigate their relationship after they both had betrayed each other so thoroughly in the leadup and culmination of MAG 200. If you don’t want them immediately making up, this is the fic for you. They get there, but by all that is good do they take their sweet time getting there.

Out There, Somewhere by Artyphex

"I'm sorry, you were found alone."

Jon survived the apocalypse and now will go to the end of this new, unfamiliar world to find Martin again.

So I think I’m just getting all the angsty ones out of the way first lol. Another slow burn, this fic is Jon’s recovery in the new reality while he also searches for what happened to Martin. Since I don’t post the tags, I will say this ones does feature “Eventual Happy Ending”, and I do promise that both Jon and Martin made it to the new reality and lived. But Jon and Martin both get to pine and cope for a while before that happy ending tag comes into play. It’s incredibly well done and explores their characters really well. Personally, I kinda enjoyed the Reddit saga because people mistaking Jon’s pleas for Martin as an ARG is very typical internet and 100% I would have bought into that at age 13.

Of course I need a therapist. I need ten therapists, working round the clock building me a bionic coping mechanism. We have the technology. by MartinKBlackwoodESQ

A story set somewhere else.

I’mma be real with you all, if I believed that characters could write and publish their own fanfiction, I would be halfway convinced the name is accurate. All joking aside however, this is a “crack treated seriously” fic but with characterization so on point I can consistently hear the voice actors when I read this. Admittedly, it’s made easier by it being written in transcript formatting, but if you’re looking for a hilarious time where TMA is suddenly is turned into a buddy cop adventure where Jon and Martin go to a universe where the Fears hadn’t been till their arrival, and they have doubles that already exist there who are living fairly normal lives till the TMA Jon and Martin crash land into their reality... Well this fic is one I cannot recommend highly enough. It also has a sequel, and it is also well worth the read, even if it appears to be on a bit of a break in it’s updates.

Worlds like phyllo pastry by neworld

After episode 200 Jon finds himself alone in a world very much like the one he left but fractionally different. It's so similar he finds versions of his former friends existing happily in the world. Unfortunately they have never met him in this universe and have no idea who he is.

This one’s unfinished, but personally it’s well worth the read as is. Not sure how I feel about the most recent chapter, but the story up till that point is a really fun spin on “Jon and Martin get shunted to a new reality” where Jon learns how to feed in a way that doesn’t cause problems facilitated by the new reality, and re-meets all the people who he lost till this point and has a very silly antagonistic relationship with his alternate self. While fic might be more of a guilty pleasure, it still is written in such a way that I would rank it high enough for this disorganized list.

Death Is The Easy Way Out by traveller19

After having killed Jonah Magnus and ended the Change, Jon and Martin should finally be able to rest. Rest, however, proves impossible when Jon falls ill. What's more, he begins having vivid dreams of their dead friends - Tim, trapped in the destroyed Archives, and Sasha, trapped outside of them. As Jon's condition quickly worsens and the line between dream and reality begins to blur, love is all he and Martin have to hold on to, because hope is a dangerous thing.

Did someone say sickfic??? But for real, this fic has an amazing balance between an A plot and a B plot, and keeps both at the right level of tension throughout. While this is a sickfic heavy one, it also features Tim and Sasha as ghosts trying desperately not to be. There’s also a lovely sequel and plenty of fluff by the end, but this is a rough ride. ALSO, if you or a loved one had covid / any respiratory illness that caused them to be hospitalized with pneumonia and it could be trigging to read incredibly on the nose descriptions of that experience, this fic is not for you. Or very cathartic. :/

Castaways by CirrusGrey

Welcome to the Castaway Foundation, a nonprofit organization dedicated to providing a safe and secure landing to those lost souls banished from their home worlds by the influence of Fear.

If you wanted saccharine JMart in a new reality where they get therapy and meet old friends from different realities, this series of (mostly) one shots is for you! As you’ve probably come to expect when I suggest CirrusGrey, the writing is fantastic, the ship dynamics are exemplary, and the character are on point. There is so much to say about this series, but mostly, if you want Jon and Martin healing and then settling together and becoming the stereotypical married couple, then this is it. It’s not done, but it is wrapping up, and I hope you all if you haven’t seen this yet enjoy it as much as I do. And for those long time readers who have been reading it longer than I’ve been in the fandom, here’s your friendly reminder that it exists.

Do Before I Die by SupposedToBeWriting

Somewhere Else, Jon can't seem to shake the strange apathy that now plagues his life. Everything reminds Martin of the end of the world. For a change of pace, he and Martin rent a campervan and go on a road trip. Their mission? To fulfill the 'bucket list' Martin made when he was eighteen and lonely. Jon's looking forward to the beach.

Jon and Martin go on a Road Trip accross Britain. It’s just a wholesome and hurt/comfort as it describes. An excellent romp, and the character studies are wonderful. The Planetarium still sticks with me.

ours is a distant shore (series) by pantsoflobster

“If they ever found out about us, we could make things really complicated for them," Jon said. Martin gave a thoughtful hum and then a loaded pause before he said, “Or simpler.” “What?” “We could, you know…” Martin then made mischievous eyes at him in lieu of expanding. “What?” Jon said, thoroughly lost. “Wouldn’t it be a bit fun to sort of... nudge them in the right direction?”

Months after they arrive Somewhere Else, Jon sees himself in the shop.

Summary is from the first fic in the series, this is a fun little romp for those who hated Martin’s defeatism over his and Jon’s relationship in MAG199 and want to see what would happen if instead he accidentally kick started an alternate version and his and Jon’s relationship Somewhere Else. It’s all very silly, tho the last fic does lean more into the hurt/comfort tag than the previous two. Over all though, if you’re looking for a little crack, a lot of fluff, and Jon and Martin being silly this is a good time.

Written in the Stars Will Have to Do by GentlemanCrow

“Yeah well, god knows why, but he thinks you hung the moon, so you might try treating him at the very least like a human being once in a while.”

It was such a small thing. Small words for a small feeling cloaked in a chintzy veneer of idiomatic dismissal. A trembling little bird cupped in his scarred and battered hands and smothered. Or so he thought. Sometimes trembling little birds turn out to be phoenixes, and those who looked to someone else to hang the comfort of a wise, silvery moon in the sky already have the hammer and the picture wire at the ready.

As far as Jon was concerned, the moon only rose on their Somewhere Else because Martin deigned to pull the strings every night, not him.

This is another one of those JMart Somewhere Else fics masquerading as a Safehouse fic that made me want to cry. It’s just, so wonderful, and once again we have themes of healing, but this time through getting a hobby and sharing it with your significant other. The writing is lovely and really gives off the stuffy academic musings I would expect being in Jon’s head (which we are for the duration of this fic) but adds a layer that I didn’t realized I needed till I read it.

On Errantry by ZaliaChimera

Somewhere Else, Jon and Martin discover that their new home has a very special sort of guardian, and Jon seeks judgement from an unexpected source.

They do say that cats purring can heal...

A cute one shot that deals with Jon’s lingering guilt from S5; this is a wonderful tale from Somewhere Else featuring a giant Cat, Martin being supportive, and Jon trying to reconcile his second chance. Very sweet and fluffy, guaranteed!

Lost, Unfound, But Not Forgotten by Elynn

They didn’t find bodies. Or anything pointing to where they may have gone. In the center of the rubble, what Georgie assumed to have once been the top of the tower, was a puddle of dried, crusted blood, and the outline of bodies in the dust and scorch marks. And she knew that wherever the Fears had gone, Jon and Martin had gone with them. The last victims, snuffed and dragged away with them. --- In the weeks after the Eye-pocolypse, Georgie Barker begins the painful process of mourning her best friend.

So, I know I’m very focused on Jon, but I have one fic of Georgie here that’s 10/10. Post 200, Georgie and Melanie eventually goes to clean out Daisy’s cabin of Jon and Martin’s things for Basira (or something like that) and Georgie finds a journal of Jon’s that he kept whilst there. It’s just as bittersweet as you’d imagine, but it’s fantastically cathartic to read and in our MAG 200 feels, this is a good one for closure.

Not Quite Somewhere Else by hawkfurze

Or you can find it on Tumblr HERE

A special entry to finish out this section, I have a long running comic from Tumblr user @hawkfurze who made a TMA x Infinity Train crossover. While I had not watched the show previously (only seen the trailer/pilot from back before it got picked up by CN), the comic is still easy to understand and explains the Infinity Train parts in such a way as to not need any prior knowledge. I highly recommend this comic for anyone who wants a visual treat delving into the relationship and psyches of Jon and Martin as they try to escape into the next reality.

AUs

Two Graves by SupposedToBeWriting

Jon sends the fears far from Earth and flees London, leaving the others to assume the worst. He settles in a small village and opts to live there quietly until he dies, a self-imposed penance. This plan is foiled when the first former Avatar shows up - and Jon realizes that every domain-keeper in the apocalypse still has some faint connection to him.

After a year of being a shoulder to cry on for confused and distraught former Avatars, Jon leads a moderately happy life. He has a flourishing garden, a cat, and some company. All of that comes crashing around his ears (or his head) when a familiar face shows up to his cabin, demanding answers.

This fic is in my top 5 fics of TMA fandom. No contest. It has some of the best healing from MAG 200 for Jon and Martin and tbh the world I’ve seen. It’s got that incredible hurt/comfort and the ending makes me cry tears of joy every time I read it. If you read any JMart fic on this list, please read this one if you can only read one. While I was tempted to put this in a different category, this seemed like the best place to put it.

What Comes After by Mornrandir

More than a year after the apocalypse, the world is starting to move on. Georgie, Melanie, and Basira have learned to move on and get back to living their lives. Then Martin reappears- without Jon- and they have to learn to begin again.

A series based around the initial above description, each entry in the series follows the healing of first Martin, then Jon, then both of them together. While I am a Jon-centric woman, if you are of a more Martin-centric leaning, this first fic in the series should scratch that itch. The final entry is very sweet, and the second definitely has a unique reason as to why Jon shows up so late to the after-Fears party.

The Watcher’s Cows by lenioia

He still remembers the first cup of tea Martin brought him. That’s where it began, not with the dog incident. A sweet and strong blend, reasons for appearance unknown, how could it taste so good, also unknown. Jon stares at what will be the last cup between them. His miserable parting gift. Where it’ll end.

Alt Mag 200, or in a slightly kinder universe which differs by exactly one cup of tea, Martin is the one who switches plan last minute, and Jon’s last half-backed scheme, for once, works.

An AU splitting off MAG 199/200, where Jon’s plan actually happens, but instead of it being quite so bleak he finds a new path with the help of Martin. I know the original ending of the series is probably the most hopeful one realistically, but we all enjoy our fixits here, so this is a really sappy “by the power of love” Jon and Martin save the universe and still get to live in it AU. Highly highly recommend, and it finished within the last 8 months, so it’s “on the newer side” as it were. If you haven’t read it, give it a shot, and if you’ve read it and it’s been awhile now’s a good time to read it again.

The Eyespot Chronicles (series) by SupposedToBeWriting

To Martin Blackwood's surprise, he wakes up in the ruins of the Magnus Institute. He thought he would be dead. The world is back to normal, the Entities are gone, and everyone realizes that it's finally over. The only sticking point is that Jon isn't exactly the Jon that went into the apocalypse. Never one to give up, Martin is determined to make a life for himself and his boyfriend. Even if he is a giant moth.

Summary taken from the first in the series, this trilogy of fics covers Jon and Martin’s attempts at healing in a world that remembers what happened. The first fic focuses entirely on Martin’s struggles, the second on Jon’s, and the 3rd (as you might guess) focuses on them both. The series is excellent, and if you’ve got the fortitude for canon-typical emotional constipation after having just experienced MAG-200 it’s well worth the read.

Another Guest for Mr. Spider by Dribbledscribbles

Jon isn't eating his statements like he should.

Mr. Spider doesn't like it.

Written in transcript format, this AU considers the idea of what if the Web was more hands on it it’s approach to getting Jon to Become more monstrous; or at least not starve himself out. Incredible read, you need an AO3 account though. But I have never been that spooked by a Statement or encounter before I read this fic. If you DO NOT like spiders on you or in your mouth and you don’t like reading about it either, potentially hold off on this fic, or at least skip from where Mr. Spider says “Open your mouth. Do not move.” to when he says “Wash it down with this. Now.” But yeah if you didn’t get enough spider trauma from canon, this fic gives it in spades! (And if you want Mr. Spider getting his comeuppance, you get that too ;) )

Illicio by ThatOneGirlBehindYou

As the new Archivist debates between life and death, the Eye ponders on what to offer him in order to avoid an encore of the unfortunate situation with his predecessor.

-----

Gerard Keay opens his eyes at what feels like fuck-ass in the morning, inside a room with far too little space and far too much dust.

A long form AU of what if Gerry Keay was brought back by the Eye to convince Jon to stay on team Monster if you will. Goes all the way through MAG-200, has some great twists and turns, and manages to turn into an “Everyone Lives AU” as well. While it is currently updating, it’s updating every week on Saturday till it finishes, and she only has 2 chapters left. If you’ve managed to never read this, now is certainly the time for it! It is Jon/Gerry/Martin, so if that’s not your exact cup of tea I’d still say give it a shot.

we should ride this wave to shore by ClarionGlass

“archives research & statement envestigation” Timothy Stoker renamed the group “drinks drinks drinks” Timothy Stoker changed Sasha James’s nickname to saucy sash Timothy Stoker changed Martin Blackwood’s nickname to martini kart Timothy Stoker changed his nickname to stonked stonked: so how bout it lads saucy sash: oh god. A TMA group chat fic where the worst problems they have to deal with start with "h" and end with "angovers"

Right, I don’t tend to read chat fics, I’m going to be honest with you all. I have two exceptions and this is one of them. It goes interesting places, the characters are not completely OOC, if it they are at least it’s consistent OOC and not in a grating way. But in all seriousness, I recommend this because of how it ties in with MAG 160 and 200; as well as how the sequel deals with canon S5. The sequel isn’t finished and is slow to update, but I am still recommending at the very least the first one. It’s a good romp and I highly recommend.

Ask an Exec: How to Navigate Cultish Colleagues, Soul-Stealing Bosses, and the End of the World at Work by shinyopals

I've recently been unexpectedly promoted to lead a department in my organisation, wrote the anonymous emailer.

As there was no one working here when I arrived, my manager, who is head of the organisation, had promised me the choice of my own assistants. However, without warning, he simply presented me with an additional assistant. This new assistant’s first act on his first day was to let a dog into the office. It took several hours to catch and clean up after this dog and it has only been downhill from there. I admit I'm not entirely sure what to do with this assistant now I'm stuck with him. I'm hoping you have some advice?

Kind regards, New Manager

Abigail Bailey runs a successful management advice blog. One frequent contributor is from a workplace with some... issues.

While this isn’t quite an AU and is basically canon compliant, I’m putting it here because it’s a “what if Jon was an avid seeker of advice on a management advice blog?” AU. It’s beautifully formatted, and features very in character interactions. If you are a sucker for the TMA trope: how do normal people react to the weirdness at the Institute, then this is a great fic for you. I know it’s probably one of the most popular things to have hit the Jonathan Sims tag on AO3 in recent months, but this is just me reminding you all it exists and well worth the re-read.

JMart Fluff

Author CirrusGrey

Literally anything by them. I think I probably recommend them every time I talk about JMart, but I think on AO3 they are both the most prolific and one of the best writers for the tag. Pick almost any fic they’ve written for TMA and it’s probably JMart. There’s too many fics of their’s to recommend, so I’ll just link you straight to their profile and you can go swimming from there lol.

Jon’s Moving Castle by IceEckos12

Martin Blackwood may not have a perfect life, but he does have a good one. That is, until a series of magical encounters leave him with an unfortunate curse. Out of other options, he goes to the wizard who lives in the moving castle for aid.

Life never goes how he intends it to, though.

Basically Howl’s Moving Castle, but with a TMA spin. You don’t need to have seen the movie to understand what’s going on, and honestly while it sticks fairly close to the movie, it doesn’t stick so close that it feels constrained by it in places where it wouldn’t make sense in the AU they’ve set up. It’s a very sweet JMart fic with a satisfying conclusion.

The 101 Kidnappings of Jonathan Sims (and Other Inconveniences) by beetlejoos

Martin Blackwood never applies for a job at the Magnus Institute. The universe seems determined that he meets Jonathan Sims anyway. But is it Fate, or something more sinister, that keeps bringing the two of them together?

Right, this mostly crack treated seriously. It’s got hurt/comfort, but it’s fairly light hearted throughout. As one could guess by the title and description, Jon is repeatedly kidnapped and brought to wherever Martin is living/working at the time. While it’s not done yet, and not on a schedule, the chapters that are out thus far are well worth the read. That and there’s some cute fan art for it that’s linked to in the end notes. But I recommend this because it’s got that vibe of S1 Jon meets S1 Martin outside of the Institute and romance (eventually) happens. Very fun read if you haven’t read it yet.

i think we’re alone now + alone-verse (series) by milliganopen

Just a couple of guys breaking into a basement. What could go wrong?

Getting trapped in your apartment with your boss, that's what.

Season 1 re-imagined if Jon and Martin had been trapped by Jane Prentiss together.

Initially I recommended this back when we had hit MAG039/022 because it was a great AU to Martin’s Statement where Jon also gets trapped in Martin’s apartment during Martin’s no good very bad 2 weeks of worm siege. HOWEVER, the author has since continued this series and is slowly working their way through canon one season/fic at a time. They’re currently on S3, and I am definitely keeping an eye on it for whenever the next update happens. If you haven’t had the time to check it out, it’s got some very good JMart moments, and their relationship manages to move faster than a glacier.

Fate, or Something by HermaeusMora

"You can't be serious." Jonathan Sims raises his eyes at last to properly look at Georgie, expecting her to laugh and make some quip about finally getting him to put the damn book down, at least.

"Well, I am," she shoots back.

He sets his book aside and turns fully towards her, betrayal clear on his face. "A blind date, really?"

Jon makes the frankly terrible decision to go on a blind date with one Martin Blackwood. Fate ensues. AU where Jon and Georgie are still friends, Georgie likes finding dates for her friends, Martin doesn't work at the institute, and everyone is just a bit happier while canon spooky stuff goes on in the background. Takes place juuust barely pre-canon in the beginning but catches up quickly. Inspired as usual by the wonderful conversations with my friend RavenXavier/somuchbetterthanthat.

A fun AU that challenges the idea that Jon and Martin are incompatible a la MAG199. Excellently done and well worth the time to check it out.

Diary by luftballoons99

Not for the first time since they ran away together, a camera reel of all the things they don't know about one another whirs behind Martin's eyes, and he can't help but look at all the sprawling magnetic tape and wonder if they’re going to wind up a romance or a tragedy.

or: Office parties, garage bands, and the joy of being known.

A bit of a bittersweet mostly fluff oneshot focused on Jon and Martin having a night in at the Safehouse and talking about good things from their pasts. (Warning, the sequel is rated E(xplicit) for a reason, so I am only recommending Diary. Both are stand alone however.)

Weaving My Heartstrings by arms_full_of_hyacinths

At least he was someone. Someone who could deal with the spiders. That was probably the source of the nerves unspooling like magnetic tape to fill Jon’s stomach with buzzing static butterflies.

Yes, Martin was much bigger than a spider. He was probably the kind of person who cupped them in his hands and talked to them as he walked them out into the garden, which shouldn’t be giving Jon a burst of warm feeling at all, since his preferred method of spider disposal was simply to squash them on sight.

Martin likes Jon almost as much as Jon hates spiders. When a statement from an institute employee sends them spiraling into the center of a complicated web, they'll need to rely on each other if they want to make it out alive.

Bit of an odd suggestion to close us out, but this one is a fun almost episodic plot about an original Statement and the shenanigans Jon and Martin get into trying to research it. It’s very good, features some very on point S1 Jon and Martin along with a bit of a fast forward on their relationship throughout.

And with that, I’ve probably overstayed my welcome lol. I hope you found something new to read! If not, I at least hope that you had fun rereading some old faves. This has taken me a day or two to compile and format, so I hope you all enjoy in whatever capacity that ends up being! Happy end of A Mag A Day, and it was a joy walking alongside you all. Congrats to A MAG A Day blog owners on all your hard work for the last ~210 days and with this post I wish you all a very fond farewell.

#a mag a day #the magnus archives #mag 200 #tma fic rec #fic rec #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #jmart #georgie #melanie

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illicitlimerence-writes · 2 years

Text

good morning | c. leclerc

pairing: dad!charles leclerc x mom!reader word count: 6.2k words. request: yes by anons: “bestie i need more dad!charles 😩” & “will you ever write a part 2 of goodnight 🥺” & “can we have goodnight part 2? 🥹” & many more but i think i already answered some of those asks jsjsjs sorry. warnings: it gets messy. lots of time jumps, language, mentions/allusions to sexy times, charles being a dilf. a crazy ex, some legal things that i made up bc idk how that works irl, idk idk. also pls don't ask about years or dates, the math won't add up let's just chill and enjoy the ride a/n: let us all thank @spideyanakin for coming up with this plot back in like JANUARY 💀💀💀. i had written a different ending but it was too much crackhead energy so i changed it lmaooo. also is it wrong of me to say that i kinda dislike theo ?? 💀 like idk, how can i hate a character that i made up myself lmaooo pls don’t cancel me. okay bye happy race week, let us all pray for a safe race where mick scores points finally🙏🙏

my masterlist / this is the long awaited, highly requested part two of 'goodnight'

(y/b/m) = your birth month.

“are you ready?” charles said, his hand holding yours as his finger played with the diamond ring on your ring finger.

“yeah, are you?” you chuckled, looking at his wide eyes. he smiled at you, his gaze traveling down to your belly.

“i think so. you ready, bud?”

“yeah, daddy!” theo replied from his spot on the backseat, a huge smile on his face.

theo was a walking advertisement for ferrari. of course.

ferrari cap, check.

ferrari shirt with ‘leclerc’ written on the back, check.

he was all suited up and ready for his first ever formula one race. the monaco grand prix. his father’s home race.

that day, the world was going to know that charles leclerc was the father of a five-year-old boy, and a baby girl on the way.

theo had been begging to go to a race for over a year now. but he was still too young at the time, so you decided to wait for the right time. then, you got pregnant with little miss ava. it was the end of may, and you were now eight and a half months pregnant, so your stomach was pretty noticeable through your maternity dress. it was charles’ home race, and it was a very special day for him, so you happily agreed to accompany him to the race.

with one last nod, charles stepped out of the car, instantly blinded by all the flashing camera lights. he put on his sunglasses before walking to you door, opening it for you and helping you out. the clicks of cameras got increasingly louder, everyone wanted to take a perfect shot of you two. with a small nod, and a gentle squeeze on charles’ hand, he opened the door for theo to step out. charles’ free hand immediately grabbed theo’s small one, he didn’t want him to wander off unsupervised.

“whoa, daddy!” theo looked around. “there’s so many people here.”

theo stared wide-eyed at everything around him, his shocked face resembling the ones of the people who stared at the three of you. you kept a protective hand over your stomach, especially when you saw the curious, foreign eyes gazing at your bump. once you reached the ferrari motorhome, you relaxed a little, but still kept theo at arm’s length.

charles introduced you to everyone, and you smiled as you watched the people gushing over theo, congratulating you and wishing you the best for the baby. you all walked upstairs to charles’ room so he could change and get ready for his interviews and such. he had a hectic schedule that day, and unfortunately, theo was having none of it. theo crossed his arms over his chest, frowned and pouted as charles crouched in front of him.

“i’ll see you in a bit, theo. i need you to be good for me,” charles reached his arm out, but theo ducked out of his way.

“theo,” you called his name, “what’s this, buddy?” you were genuinely surprised by his behavior. he was always so good, so calm and attentive to what you or charles said.

“my daddy,” theo said. charles looked at you, but you shrugged your shoulder, shaking your head side to side slightly, having no idea what he meant. “my daddy. daddy stays with me,” he stated.

it shocked you, since theo had never said anything like that whenever charles left to the races. of course, theo missed his father, but he always watched charles on the tv, never missed a session or a race, and he always smiled whenever the cameras were focused on charles, because charles would always wink at the camera, a sign for theo that he was thinking of him.

“but daddy has things he needs to do, theo. you and i can stay here, or we can go downstairs and watch everything there,” you explain, running your fingers through his hair.

“but i don’t want to lose you, daddy,” theo ran to charles, making the monegasque lose his balance, falling down on his back with theo on top of him, that made the boy laugh.

“you won’t lose me, theo. i have stuff to do, but i promise you that as soon as i’m done, i will come back here for you, okay?” charles said as he leaned forward, still sitting on the ground with theo on his lap. theo threw his arms around charles’ neck. “what’s wrong, little man?” charles asked.

theo didn’t respond. just kept his tight hold on charles as he stared at the wall.

“i have an idea,” charles said after a few minutes of silence. “why don’t you come with me, bub?” he looked down at theo, who was leaning on his chest. “you can keep me company while i work, how’s that sound?” theo seemed to perk up.

“really?” theo couldn’t keep a smile off his face.

“yeah, you just have to promise to be on your best behavior, okay?” charles smiled at him.

“i promise, daddy! everyone will know you’re my daddy now!” theo got off charles’ lap, grabbing his hand and pulling, trying to get him off the floor. once charles got up, he left the room to let his team know that theo would be joining him for the interviews and such.

“theo, come here, baby,” you said, patting the spot next to you once charles left you two alone. your other hand resting on your stomach. theo rushed to you, sitting next to you, leaning his head on your belly as puts his hand on top of yours, playing with your ring. “why did you say that you’d lose daddy?” you asked calmly, gently running your fingers through his hair.

“because i don’t want daddy to leave me now,” he said, not looking at you.

“what do you mean, love?” you asked, keeping your voice soft.

“i know that you need a daddy and a mommy to make a baby, and i know that daddy didn’t make me, so that means i have a different daddy. and now that you made a new baby, i don’t want daddy to leave like the one who made me,” he explained as if it were the most casual thing ever.

“theo, i-”

“who’s ready for some interviews?” charles barged in, smiling.

“let’s go, daddy!” theo jumps from his seat, making grabby hands at charles, who picked him up, chuckling at theo’s excited face. he noticed you were sitting still, your back straight could only mean that you were feeling anxious.

“is everything alright, mon ange?” he asked, frowning as you were breathing deeply.

you couldn’t tell him. not at that moment. so, you swallowed the lump in your throat, faked a smile and relaxed your shoulders. you nodded your head as you looked at them, theo was leaning his head on charles’ shoulder, his arms around his neck protectively.

“i’m fine, just feeling a bit left out,” you joked, standing up as you walked to them.

“don’t you worry, ma chérie, we’ll only be gone for a little while, isn’t that right, theo?” theo placed an arm around your back with his free arm.

“yes, mommy, i go with daddy now and we watch the race later,”

“okay, you two. go, have fun. i’ll be right here,” you ushered them out of the room, wanting to be alone so you could think about what to do now.

how could he figure this out at just five years old?

you’d already explained to him the truth about charles not being his biological father, but theo knew that charles was his daddy, who loved him endlessly and with his entire heart, and that seemed to be enough for theo.

you walked downstairs, suddenly feeling trapped in the four walls of charles’ room. you grabbed a cooled water bottle, downing half of it in one go as you felt someone sitting beside you.

“how’s little ava?” arthur asked. “you look like you’re in pain,” he chuckled.

“she’s asleep, i think,” you rubbed a hand over your stomach as you played with the bottle. “it’s theo…”

“i saw him out there, clinging to charles like a koala,” he smiled, you nodded, lips barely curling into a smile.

“he didn’t want to let him go. don’t tell charles, not before the race, at least,” you said, looking around you, making sure no one was paying attention to you two.

“what’s wrong?” arthur asked, leaning forward, a small frown on his face as he scanned your worried expression.

“theo said that- that he didn’t want to lose charles. but when i asked him what he meant by that-” you repeat what theo had said, frowning. once you finished, your mouth felt dry, so you drank the rest of the water, you foot tapping against the floor repeatedly.

“whoa,” was all arthur said, his mind still processing it.

“i know,” you muttered, looking at the screen, that showed a smiling charles, holding theo in his arms, the boy was leaning his head on his father’s shoulder as he played with the collar of charles’ shirt. "they love each other so much…"

"don't stress about it, i'm sure theo will forget it after a while," arthur smiled at you, trying to ease your worry as he tapped the back of your hand comfortingly. you nodded, watching as charles kept going with the interview, pierre playing with theo behind him.

"uncle p! why are you here?" theo asked, he was too excited about being with charles that he forgot why he was there.

"i'm here to beat your dad!" pierre laughed as he crouched in front of theo, who gasped, covering his mouth with his hand.

"no! daddy wins the race!" theo declared, laughing as he crossed his little arms over his chest, nodding in affirmation.

as the rest of the drivers heard theo’s voice, it took them a few seconds to realize that theo was talking about charles. his last name on the back of theo’s shirt was a dead give away. pierre noticed the curious eyes looking over at theo, so he grabbed the boy in his arms.

“looks like someone’s stealing the spotlight,” the reporter told charles as they finished the interview, pointing to theo, who was currently winning a thumb war against daniel ricciardo. the tall aussie had a serious look on his face, trying to pull his thumb away from under theo’s grip. pierre, who was still holding him, was smiling in amusement as he cheered theo on.

“time!” pierre said as theo finally let go of daniel, who was staring at him in a mix of shock and disbelief.

“how did you do that?” daniel asked, softly ruffling theo’s hair.

“talent!” theo declared, bringing out a huge roar of laughter out of daniel, who nodded.

“definitely your kid,” he told charles, patting the monegasque on his shoulder. “we should set up a playdate, i think he’s about noah’s age,” daniel said before walking away.

“are you making new friends, theo?” charles asked.

“yeah, daddy! i have new friends!” theo smiled, reaching his arms for him. charles took him from pierre’s hold.

you watched this whole interaction through the screen, with a smile on your face as you saw charles placing kisses on theo’s temple. you felt the baby moving inside you, and you placed a hand on your stomach, feeling her little kicks right on top of where your hand was. the movements calmed you down.

as you’d watched theo and charles together on the screens, you couldn’t help but think about theo’s biological father. you didn’t know where he was, what he did or if he still lived in the same city. but he was your past, you couldn’t waste any energy on him. he’d abandoned you and theo, so why even think about him if he’d been out of your lives for so long?

the first letter arrived in september.

two weeks after you’d gotten back from your honeymoon, which had turned into a family vacation as you simply couldn’t stay away from your babies. charles’ mom had offered to take care of theo and ava as you enjoyed your first weeks as newlyweds, but you just couldn’t stay away from them.

it was something straight out of a movie, the four of you walking the waterline, two-month-old ava watching everything around her with wide eyes, theo running ahead of you as you and charles held hands, watching the sun slowly disappear in the horizon.

the days you spent in the heaven on earth that were the maldives were absolute bliss, a so-needed break from everything, time to just rest and focus on your marriage and family. you felt untouchable, as if nothing could reach you, as if you’d finally gotten the happy ending you’d been longing for all your life.

as you got back to your home in monaco, you were taking your time readjusting to the old routines, enjoying the time you had together before theo had to start school and charles had to start the second half of the season. your first week alone, just you and ava whilst theo was at school, you received a call from your lawyer.

“we’ve just received an e-mail from bryan matthews,” the lawyer sighed, you froze. “he’s threatening to sue you for ‘hiding the existence of his child from him’. i know this is a lie, don’t worry, we are trying to contact him and know what he wants.” her voice was calm, trying to not freak you out.

you slept with theo and ava that night.

weeks later, you received a letter in the mail.

‘theo is mine.’ was all it said, the text was printed in bold, black letters, so you couldn’t recognize the handwriting or anything. unfortunately, charles was away for a triple header, and you didn’t want to worry him. so, you placed the paper in a folder, locked it inside the safe alongside all your important papers, hanging the family portrait back in place, hiding the safe. you called your lawyer, explaining the letter you’d received, she told you to keep it, just in case.

ava, theo and you shared a room that night, and you locked the door to your bedroom as well as all the windows.

the second letter arrived two weeks after the first one. charles was home, so he opened the envelope and read the printed text.

‘you know what i want.’ he read the words, frowning. you were walking by when you saw him standing there, staring at the white piece of paper.

“charles… there’s something i need to tell you,” you said, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the office, where you brought down the portrait, opened the safe and pulled out the folder. “about a month ago, i got a call from sylvie, she said that theo’s dad had contacted them, saying he had intentions of suing, because i apparently kept theo’s existence a secret,” you shook your head, feeling your eyes fill with angry tears. “she said they’d handle it, get in contact with him to know what he wanted. then, this came in the mail,” you showed him the first letter. “it’s him. i know it’s him. i just…” you covered your face with your hands, letting out the frustration you’d been bottling up for the past few weeks. you felt charles’ arms around you, snaking over your waist, pulling you close to him as you threw yours around his neck, hiding your face in his chest as you cried it all out.

almost four months went by without another letter, another call from your lawyer, a new e-mail. nothing.

on the 23rd of december, you and charles were preparing the last few details for theo’s birthday surprise, throwing confetti on the ground, blowing balloons of all sizes.

“do you think he’ll like his present?” charles asked, letting out a deep breath as he finished tying up a balloon.

“he’ll love it. you know how much he loves you, this is exactly what he needs.” you approached him, wrapping your arms around his waist, resting your cheek on his chest.

“i’m really nervous… what if he says no?” he sighed, making you lift your head, and furrow your eyebrows.

“what are you talking about? charles… theo loves you maybe even more than he loves anything else in the world, this will mean so much to him. i thank the stars every day for you. you don’t know how much it means to me that you love me, that you love theo,”

“i was done the second i saw him,” he admitted, gently holding your face with one hand. “i love our kids so much. our family,” he shook his head, “i still can’t believe how i got this lucky,”

“oh, charles, baby,” you smiled, standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his soft lips. “we’re all so lucky to have each other. i wouldn’t have it any other way,”

“i promise you, nothing will ever come between us,”

the new racing season began, and it’s been one year since the world found out about charles leclerc being a family man. the monaco grand prix was a special one for everyone. not only was charles lucky enough to have his whole family there with him, but it was also little ava’s first time seeing what her daddy did for a living.

people were mental. not only was their hometown hero starting from pole position and had high chances of winning the race, they’d fallen in love with theo the year before, and now that ava was with them as well, it was almost as if you were a second royal family.

it was a nerve-wracking thing, your heart was down to your stomach, keeping your kids close to you, holding them in one arm each. even if charles didn’t win the race, you knew that theo would celebrate as if he had. he was so close, though, with three laps to go, you were more than ecstatic with the thought that he might finally achieve a podium in his home. but then, the only car in front collided against a wall, you breathed in sharply, catching the attention of both kids in your arms.

“what?” theo asked, looking at the screens, “where’s daddy?”

“i think he’ll pass him,” you said slowly, not wanting to jinx it.

even though the race had been yellow-flagged, the cars were still going. you took a deep breath as your eyes drifted to the screen at your side, seeing charles approach the crash site and smoothly rush past it. the air left your lungs, a smile slowly crept on your lips, you closed your eyes as you breathed in relief. even with the yellow flags, no one could catch up to him.

this race was his to win.

charles was focused, he knew all eyes were on him, he knew that his whole country had all of their hopes and expectations on him. that was enough to break even the best of the sport, but not him. he would’ve been more than happy to just get a podium at his home, but seeing the race leader against the wall, letting him pass by in a breeze, brought out many emotions that he’d buried deep down to keep his cool during the race.

he could hear the roar of the crowd as the final lap started. the cars behind him were too far away to really fight the win, all he had to do was keep the car under his control, don’t get distracted, and cross the finish line.

winning his home grand prix was a feeling like no other. charles had felt many joys in his lifetime. his wedding, meeting you for the first time, meeting his son and daughter. having his son accept him as his dad completely, legally and in his heart. if he allowed himself to be a little selfish, this win was definitely up there.

pictures of your family were plastered all over the news after that day, on printed magazines and online, there wasn’t a single news outlet that didn’t have charles holding both of his kids in his arms, all three of them on the podium, with theo holding the trophy in his hands. you’d arrived just in time to grab your kids from charles’ hold right before the champagne celebration.

it was a week after the grand prix, the buzz of charles’ win was still palpable in your home, you couldn’t be more proud of charles, couldn’t believe he was yours.

it was a quiet morning, you were feeding ava in the kitchen as soft piano notes invaded the apartment. charles was teaching theo how to play the piano, you were surprised that theo had picked it up quite easily. a knock on the door made you look up from ava, who was sitting on the counter in her chair. you grabbed her and walked to the door.

“arthur!” you smiled, you weren’t expecting him there. “come on in,” you moved to the side, your child extending her arms so she could hug her godfather.

“hi, miss ava,” he cooed, kissing her cheek, your daughter giggled.

“uncle king!” the little piano man ran to his favorite uncle (don’t tell pierre) and hugged his legs.

you were catching up with arthur when you felt a pair of arms hugging you from behind, you leaned back against charles, watching as both of your kids were demanding arthur’s attention.

“uncle king, stay here. i want to show you something!” theo said as he ran to his room. you watched him leave, smiling.

“i guess the piano didn’t take much of his energy after all,” you chuckled. charles opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by another knock on the door.

“is lorenzo coming, too?” you asked as you opened the door.

it wasn’t lorenzo. it was someone you never thought you’d see again. a coward who ran away when he found out he had a child on the way.

“long time no see,” his voice made you shiver. you felt a hand on your back.

“who are you?” charles asked, stepping forward.

“uncle king, look what my dad bought me!” you held your breath as you heard theo coming back. he couldn’t see him.

“that’s my-”

“arthur,” you interrupted him, you turned your head around. arthur stood there, with ava in his arms and theo by his feet. with just one look at you, he knew something was wrong. he nodded, then grabbed theo’s hand and walked away. you let out a deep breath of relief now that they were gone. you didn’t want the man in front of you to see your children.

“what do you want?” charles asked, keeping one hand around you.

“i just want my kid,” he said, it made your blood boil.

“he’s not your kid,” you said, surprising yourself. the words slipped out with no sign of all the emotions you felt inside. “you lost that privilege the moment you walked out on me.”

“come on, baby,” he took a step forward, but stopped when charles put a hand on his chest. “oh, you’ve got a bodyguard now?” he asked, a cinic smile on his face. “you really want your kid to grow up without a father? what about when he grows up… finds out that i, his real father, came back looking for him, and you denied him that?”

“he has a father.” you said, “he doesn’t even know you exist, he doesn’t need you. charles is his father, in every sense of the word.”

“his birth certificate doesn’t say so,” he pulled out a folded piece of paper out of his jacket pocket, it was a copy of theo’s birth certificate.

“where did you get this?” charles asked, snatching the paper from him.

“you really didn’t think it through when you got involved with this one, did you?” he said. “you just wanted the money, forgot about the ugly side of fame, didn’t you?”

“shut up. we all know that you’re not really interested in being part of his life,” you didn’t want to say theo’s name in front of him. you knew he knew what his name was, but you felt that, if you said it, it would make everything feel real. “what do you really want?”

“no,” charles said, “he has no right to come here and start demanding things.”

“oh, but you wouldn’t want me to go to news outlets and tell everyone my side of the story, would you? how you left without a word in the middle of the night and didn’t even tell me about the existence of my kid, how i looked for you everywhere and was heartbroken to see my little boy in another man’s arms,”

“that’s bullshit!” you said. “you were the one who walked away from me, from us. you’re the coward who abandoned me and left me to fight all alone so i could give my son a good future.”

“it’ll be your word against mine, then…” he raised an eyebrow and charles wanted nothing more than to slap the smug grin out of his face. “unless,” he started, “you made a good pick. the french prince here could be the answer to all your problems.” he smiled, “i want three million in my bank account by tomorrow.”

“oh, you pathetic piece of shit! money? all of this because you want money? you’re unbelievable.” you said.

“give me the three million and i’ll keep my mouth shut, if not… i think tmz will pay a lot for this juicy exclusive,”

“what exactly…” charles said, “what exactly is your plan?” he asked, “you’re just going to go there and show them this obviously fake document… and then what?”

“if i can’t have him… then i might as well ruin your career and reputation. because how could you take away my legal rights as a father away from me?”

“see, that’s the thing. you have none of that. you might have been the sperm donor, but you’re not his father. not by merit, not legally either.”

you let out a deep breath, knowing where charles was going with that.

december 23rd, the previous year.theo opened his eyes, seeing the sun coming in through the curtains of his room. he was happy the day was sunny, he had seen so many cloudy days one after the other that month. he liked december, he liked all the holidays that came with it, and he liked the snow. he liked that christmas was going to be the next day.

but, if christmas was the next day, that meant that day was his birthday. finally!

he removed the covers off him and ran out of his room. he carefully opened the door to ava’s room. he rushed to her crib, seeing his little sister sleeping peacefully. he extended his arm and touched her arm. he liked having a sister. he wanted two or three more.

as he walked out of his sister’s room, he smiled as he went to his parents’. he was ready to jump into bed with them, he wanted to say good morning. and he wanted cuddles. but the smile fell off his face once he saw the empty room. theo frowned. he closed the door and was about to call out for you, but remembered that ava was still sleeping. he kept walking until he reached the living room.

a gasp left his lips as he saw balloons, confetti on the floor, and other decorations hung up on the walls. theo had decided that he wanted his birthday to be cars themed. not just cars in general, but the movie cars. he liked to think that his dad was like lightning mcqueen, he -theo- was mater, of course.

“look who’s up!” he heard, and saw you walking to him with a smile on your face. “happy birthday, my big boy!” you kneeled in front of him and extended your arms. he ran to you, and you wrapped him in your arms. “i can’t believe it’s your birthday again, i’m going to need time to slow down,” you smiled as you looked at him, pushing his (y/h/c) hair out of his face.”

“no, mommy! i want to be big! like daddy!” he said, making you smile as you cupped his cheek with your hand.

“what did i do?” charles said as he walked in.

“daddy!” theo left your arms to run to charles. he picked him up with ease.

“happy birthday, theo,” charles whispered in his ear as he hugged him tightly against himself.

after a fun day celebrating theo, you returned home, you went to ava’s room to change her, she was already asleep, exhausted after missing her afternoon nap. when you returned, theo had already changed into his pjs as well, and was sitting at the kitchen counter.

“mommy! daddy says you have one more surprise for me,” he was tapping the counter with his hands, unable to contain his excitement.

“oh, that’s right baby. this surprise is a little different than the rest of the other surprises, it’s not a toy or something you can play with, it’s something very important,” you explained, theo nodded. “come on,” you held out your hand, theo got down from his chair and walked to you.

“daddy!” he said, extending his own hand for charles to grab. charles smiled, you could tell that he was nervous. you reached the study, and you grabbed a folder with a bunch of papers in it.

“do you remember when you said you didn’t want to lose me?” charles asked, theo nodded after a few seconds, “that’s never going to happen theo. i know that you know that i didn’t help make you, but i love you as if you were my own, because you are. you are my son, and i love you with all my heart.”

charles was kneeling next to theo, with a protective hand on the little boy’s arms.

“these papers… they just make it all official. if i sign these papers, you will be my son, even though to me you already are, and have been since the moment i saw you.”

“and you’ll never go away?” theo asked.

“never. you and your mom and your sister are everything i could ever ask for, these papers will just make adult things a lot easier.”

“okay.” theo said, hugging his father. “i love you, daddy,”

“i love you too, my little boy,”

“theo has a father. that’s me. the adoption process took years, but last year, at last, he became my son. you have no right to come into my house and start threatening us with lies that no one will believe. now, you have three seconds to leave before i call security.”

“this isn’t over,” he said. you scoffed.

“it never even started, in the first place.”

he was opening his mouth to say something, but you shut the door in his face, locking it before he could even touch the knob. charles immediately took out his phone and called the security guards of the building. you watched through the peephole as he struggled against the tight hold the guards had on his arms. you let out a deep breath of relief once you realized you were safe.

charles wrapped his arms around you, and you hid your face against his chest, letting out the tears that you had been holding back.

“it’s okay. we’re okay. he won’t bother us again, i promise.” he whispered into your ear, and you nodded, trying to recompose yourself.

“i love you so much,” was all that you could say.

after taking a few minutes to figure out what your next step was, you went to look for your kids. you found arthur on the ground, with theo on top of him as he stabbed him with a toy sword. ava was watching everything from the side.

“i’m king arthur now!” theo said, you couldn’t help but shake your head. he was still a little hurt that his uncle was named like the main character in his favorite bedtime story. “daddy! mommy, you’re back!” theo said as he saw you both standing there. you kneeled and wrapped your arms around him as he ran to you. “we’re playing with uncle king. can you play with me and bava?”

bava. baby ava. bava.

“of course, my love.”

“bava, shut up!” theo whispered, ten-year-old ava rolled her eyes at his brother.

“you try keeping marc quiet, then,” she handed their two-year-old brother to theo.

“bava, shut up!” they both heard a quiet, but squeaky voice say from behind them.

“not you too, rose,” ava muttered under her breath, pinching the bridge of her nose as she heard five-year-old rose talk, and it was only a matter of time before…

“bava, shut up!” there it was. lily. rose and lily, lily and rose. twins.

“great work, genius,” ava slapped the back of theo’s head, which made the twins giggle.

“bava-” marc started, he didn’t want to feel left out, but ava placed her hand on the little boy’s mouth, shushing him.

“everyone shut up, you’re going to ruin the surprise.” she ordered, and all her siblings listened to her for once. it sometimes felt as if she were the oldest one, and not theo.

“everyone ready?” theo asked, still holding marc in his arms. the twins nodded as they each held one end of the sign they’d made. “okay, one, two…” theo opened the door to his parents’ bedroom, silently praying that they were decent.

“good morning, sun. good morning, sky. good morning, mom. good morning, dad. good morning, theo, ava, lily, rose, and marc.”

they all chanted as they entered, waking up their parents. their mom rested her weight on her elbows, as she looked up at all her children standing at the end of her bed.

“guys,” you smiled, feeling tears gathering in your eyes as you read the sign they’d made.

purple letters covered in glitter, their handprints with paint, you wondered how they’d managed to do this without you finding out.

“happy birthday, mom!” they all jumped in bed with you and charles, even theo. you were showered in kisses and cuddles and words whispered in your ear.

“thank you, guys… you make me feel like the luckiest mom in the world,” you smiled, wrapping your arms around little marc a little tighter.

in truth, you really were so incredibly lucky. you had five perfect, healthy and happy kids, a great husband who was always there for you, who loved you and cherished you with his entire being. you couldn’t ask for anything else. you had everything you could ever ask for or dream of. life couldn’t get any better.

later that day, as the moon made its way up, illuminating everything in a soft white beam, you felt charles’ lips against your neck.

“did you enjoy your birthday, mon coeur?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer to that.

“of course. i still can’t believe the kids made that without me figuring it out. i’m always good at sniffing when they’re up to something,” you said, smiling softly. despite all the years you’d been together, you still couldn’t get enough of charles, everytime you looked at him felt like the first time, that one time you’d agreed to go on a blind date set up by your best friend. “maybe my mom instincts are going away, or something,” you said, placing your chin on charles’ chest, looking up at him.

“hmm,” he hummed, “maybe we should do something to stop that from happening,” he said, kissing your cheek.

“like what?”

“let’s have another one?”

“another kid?” you said, chuckling incredulously, “are you serious?”

“i mean…” he started, running the pads of his fingers up and down your back, “our youngest is not a baby anymore,” he continued.

“you want the good morning and good night list to keep getting longer, don’t you?” you laughed. “you really want to have another kid?” you asked, you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it.

“if you want to, of course. i’m perfectly happy with how our family is right now, but…”

“it’s not complete yet,” you said, charles’ eyes widened a little. you bit your lip, shifting so you were now on top of him, straddling his hips with one leg on either side of him. “let’s do it,” you smiled.

nine months later, as little ava leclerc carried her new baby sister, she started counting back nine months. she was incredibly smart for her age, she was the brightest student in her class, by her own merit, you and charles gave all of your kids the freedom to excel in what was natural for them, you didn’t pressure them into getting good grades because you knew it didn’t matter. ava, though, she liked being the smartest. she knew how babies were made, and as she counted the months and reached (y/b/m), she frowned. what had happened in (y/b/m)?

then it hit her.

“happy birthday mom,” she muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes.

@spideyanakin @ireallydontknowdudee @mysticalnightenthusiast

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