#this has been on my mind for a while now so please!!! i want to hear your thoughts!!
Note
i NEED jealous Max. Please 🥺🥺🥺 I love jealous/possessive guys haha the feminism just leaves my body
Me too! GOD. Me, too.
It took me ages to decide how to go about this because I had soooo many ideas but I hope you like it!
✨set during the Miami GP weekend 2022✨
Everybody wants you, but I don’t like a gold rush
Max glances down at his watch. 17 minutes. 17 minutes you’ve been standing in the gallery area of the garage, fanning yourself with a magazine - with Max’s face on the front of it, no less - in the Miami heat, talking to some freakishly tall guy in a Louis Vuitton denim jacket and aviator sunglasses. He’s so painfully American that Max wonders what you even have to talk about for…eighteen minutes.
You tighten your high ponytail while Paul Bunyon talks, his mouth wide with every word. Max studies your face for any sign that you’re bored. He’s bored of watching this, but he knows from experience that not looking isn’t a real option. You haven’t looked over at him once in those eighteen minutes, in fact you haven’t even been distracted by the mechanics moving around or the noise of drilling and clattering tools.
This guy must be really fucking interesting.
You smile at something Captain America says and Max feels his jaw clenched so hard he thinks a tooth is going to crack.
It’s like he’s thirteen again, watching you stand in the middle of the makeshift paddock at the karting track, swarmed by every one of his competitors, their parents packing up their stuff as they vie for your attention. He was the only one who stayed away, following his dad’s instructions on how to properly dismantle and store things while sneaking glimpses at the show you were running. He would win every race and still go home feeling like a loser.
It’s different now, of course. He doesn’t take your gregarious nature so personally now, and he can admit he understands what men see in you now, even if he doesn’t feel it. But he’d be lying if he said it doesn’t trigger something in him to see the way men react to you. It might irritate him less if you enjoyed it, but you’ve long since grown out of that. Now, you expect it so much that you ignore it, and Max has no choice to but to notice it, the same way you’d notice a rusty knife embedded in your side.
“You’re not listening to me, are you?” GP says, which snaps Max out of his calculations.
“I’m listening,” Max says, fiddling with the brim of his cap. “Drive fast, win race, I got it,”
GP frowns at his dismissive tone, and Max makes a point of looking at his water bottle, lest GP realise what actually had his attention. “Max, you need to focus. What are you even-“ It’s the sound of your laugh - high pitched over the deep bass of the music - that makes GP look across the garage. His features twist in disapproval as he turns back to Max. “You’ve got to be kidding me,”
Max looks down at his shoes, moving his foot as he inspects them. “What?”
Above him, GP groans. “I’m not going to say anything about the situation as a whole, because it’s waste of my time. But specifically now, she’s right there, she’s not going anywhere. Can we please just go through this once and then you can carry on staring?”
Max rolls his eyes, steeling his face as a cameraman enters the garage. He’s wearing a Red Bull shirt so Max doesn’t mind too much, but he can’t be captured looking as morose as he feels. The cameraman pans past him and onto you and the guest. Max watches you cringe as the guy throws up some hand sign to the camera, clearly at home with the media attention.
“Who even is that?” Max asks, unable to hide his rancour. He’s probably going to be forced to take a picture with Popeye later.
“I don’t know, some American football player?” GP says with a shrug, giving Max a helpless look. GP couldn’t give less of a shit about the celebrity guests touted around the gargae, and normally Max is his ally. “Are we done?”
Max nods, but not even a second later he’s looking again. It gets worse the more you talk, he can see this guy becoming more enchanted by the second. He wonders what kind of steroids they take in American sports leagues because the meathead is acting like a dog in heat. He leans towards you at an angle that is wholly unnecessary, his eyes fixated on your mouth, nodding too emphatically at everything you say.
“My God, why doesn’t he just lick her face,” Max says incredulously, more to himself than anything.
“Max,” GP sighs.
“Come on,” Max implores with a scoff, stopping himself from outright gesturing in your direction. “Look at him. That’s embarrassing,”
GP fixes Max with a deadpan expression. “Right, but you being sulky and jealous is the height of cool?”
“I’m not jealous.”
And he isn’t. Because Joe DiMaggio over there doesn’t have anything he wants. He’s not going to waste time being jealous of a guy getting half an hour with you when he has cats, and a home, and a life with you.
Finally, you look in his direction, but only because GP calls your name. “Can you come here?”
You give GP a thumbs up and excuse yourself, trotting over to Max without a second thought. Wannabe Tom Brady brazenly enjoys the view, and Max swears he hasn’t been that close to punching someone since Monza last year.
“What’s up?” You ask, slotting yourself between the two men as you lean back against the shelf.
GP hands you his phone. “Beat this Candy Crush level for me, would you? Been stuck for days,”
You look at him skeptically, but years of being filmed up close by cameras on the pit wall have given GP a hell of a poker face; he just stares back at you, and you give up with a huff.
“Men are hopeless,” you say with a roll of your eyes.
“Couldn’t agree more,” GP says, his eyes pointedly on Max, who can’t even defend himself.
Desperate to avoid GP’s scrutiny, he glances over at the gallery, only to find the Yank looking at him. Well, not him, you. He’s got that curious expression as he assesses you fiddling with GP’s phone, one that says he’s trying to understand if he has something to be worried about. He doesn’t. You’re not his to worry about.
“Here,” Max says, pulling off his cap. You barely look up at him before he puts his cap firmly on your head, holding it steady with one hand while pulling your ponytail through the hole at the back with the other.
The brim of the hat obscures half your face, and Max turns so that half your body is shielded by his, which he tells himself is in case a camera comes by.
“It’s sunny,” Max shrugs in his own defence, when he notices you looking at him with a raised eyebrow.
You adjust the cap on your head but don’t take it off. “Why don’t you just give me your letterman jacket?”
“My what?”
“Never mind,” you chuckle, shaking your head at him as you pat his chest with an indulgent smile.
He takes the opportunity at the sound of a large wheel gun to glance over at the gallery, only to meet the eyes of the guy you were talking to. Now that you’re no longer next to him, Max does sort of recognise him. He plays for some team named after an animal. Max just looks at him - he’ll do this all day if he has to - until the guy shoves his hands in his pockets and pulls out his phone, starting to tap away. Yeah, go back to Raya.
Good riddance, Max thinks to himself as he turns back to you, only to find that you already looking at him. He wonders for how long.
He can tell by your smirk that he’s been caught. If he’s honest with himself you caught him five years ago, this was just one of the few moments he let you know it. And you know it. How could you not know?
He thinks for a second that you’re going to tease him, but you don’t. You shift on your feet so that some of your weight rests against his arm, and go back to playing on GP’s phone.
“Go on, GP,” he says, fighting a smile at the large number 1 on the brim of what is now your hat.
He knows from the way GP is looking at him that he’ll get an earful about this later, but right now, he just clears his throat.
“Right, so,”
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Floyd: I want to play with Damselfish, but he's always busyyyy~.
Azul: That can't be helped. Yuurin is a model student and he has some responsibilities to fulfill.
Floyd: Eh~ But he's just a first-year, you know~.
Jade: Why not take on the role of a responsible upperclassman for him?
Azul: As if Floyd would do that-
Floyd: That's a good idea, Jade~.
Azul: Huh?
Jade: *chuckles*
Azul: ...
Azul: Floyd, please refrain from causing any trouble for us.
Yuurin: *is on her way to Professor Crewel's class*
Floyd: DAMSELFISH~~~!
Yuurin: ? *turns around* *and sees Floyd walking towards her*
Yuurin: Floyd-senpai?
Floyd: *when he's in front of her* *smiles* Where are you going~?
Yuurin: To Professor Crewel's class.
Floyd: Okay~. I'll take you there~.
Yuurin: No, it's fin-
Floyd: *scoops her up, cradling her effortlessly in his arms*
Yuurin: ...
Floyd: Eh~ You're surprisingly light, damselfish~.
Yuurin: ...
Professor Crewel and the rest of the students: ...
Professor Crewel: I see you both decided to come to class together.
Floyd: *is carrying Yuurin now like a teddy bear*
Yuurin: I appreciate the free lift, senpai.
The students: Wow... He can talk casually with Floyd...
Floyd: You're welcome~. Next time again~.
Yuurin: No. I'll be just walking by myself next time.
Floyd: Eh~? Why are you being mean to me~?
Yuurin: No, I'm not.
Professor Crewel: That's enough. Since both of you got here, why not be partners for the experiment today?
Floyd: Are you serious, striped beakfish~? *smiling*
Professor Crewel: Yes. I feel that you'll behave if you are with Yuurin.
Jamil and Ace: ...
Floyd: I'll be playing with Damselfish~!
Jamil: ...
Jamil: It's been a while since you visited the Basketball Club, Yuurin.
Jamil: Not even Ace could invite you after that.
Ace: H-Hey! He was always busy!
Yuurin: Yes. I couldn't find the time to visit. I'm sorry.
Jamil: That's alright. Everyone is aware that you're fond of the Equestrian Club more.
Yuurin: ...
Floyd: Ehhh~ What's in Equestrian Club~?
Yuurin: I have a horse there. His name is Aerion.
Floyd: Hmmm... You like animals?
Yuurin: Yes.
Floyd: ...
Floyd: Hehe~ Damselfish! Let's go to the ocean now!
Jamil: Huh?! Aren't you two here for the basketball practice?!
Ace: Y-Yeah!
Floyd: I've changed my mind~. Let's go, damselfish~! *dragging Yuurin away*
Floyd: *could tell that Yuurin enjoys playing with the lemon sharks*
Floyd: *swims next to her* They're friendly, aren't they?
Yuurin: *looks at him*
Yuurin: ...
Yuurin: *nods*
Floyd: Hm? Why are you just nodding- Oh, right! I didn't give you any potion to breathe underwater!
Yuurin: *just reads his lips* *gestures to him that it's fine*
Floyd: Oh... *smiles* How long can you stay underwater?
Yuurin: ...
Yuurin: *signs to him that she can stay underwater for 30 minutes*
Floyd: Eh~! THAT'S SO COOL~!
Azul: Floyd, you're NOT going to take Yuurin on another underwater trip again.
Floyd: Ehhh~? Why not~?
Azul: Leona yelled at me on the phone.
Floyd: And that's my problem~?
Azul: You-
Jade: How did it go, Floyd?
Floyd: Hehe~ I really enjoyed my time with him~.
Floyd: He promised that we will play again together with the lemon sharks~.
Jade: Oh that's good.
Azul: No, it's not!
#twisted wonderland#twst yuurin#twst floyd#twst jamil#twst ace#twst jade#twst azul#twst crewel#twst unveil
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I love you, truly. There's no doubt in my mind.
Masterlist
Characters : Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Fushiguro Megumi, and Choso.
Gojo Satoru (Childhood Friend)
"Ah, isn't it cute?"
"Yeah."
You simply nodded as Gojo Satoru, your childhood friend, invited you on an aquarium date. It had been a while since you had spent time with him, cherishing these small moments together.
You couldn't recall exactly how long you had known Satoru. As far back as you could remember, you had been his best friend a long time ago, sharing the same blue sky, laughing, lovingly touching each other's hands, playfully giggling, and embracing both his joys, sadness, and happiness.
Some describe him as nonchalant, others as arrogant and annoying, yet to you, he is just like a petite star in the veil of the night sky. So bright yet teasingly distant, just beyond your grasp.
You're acutely aware that being his priority or even dancing in his thoughts is beyond reach. It's clear to you that his actions toward you are merely as friends.
Since high school, your heart has been sealed within him, keeping it concealed within the recesses of your mind.
...why does God plant the seeds of love in your heart only for them to remain unwatered and untouched by Gojo Satoru?
He chuckled upon noticing your prolonged gaze, a soft smile forming on his lips, causing warmth to spread to your cheeks.
"Do you remember when we were kids and you told me you wanted to be a teacher? Well, now I've stolen that dream, and I'm the one who became a teacher," he remarked. "And remember when you said you wanted to become a skilled baker? Well, I stole that dream too!"
You rolled your eyes, feeling a tingle of irritation. "Yeah, you've stolen every dream I have, and I ended up as a pathetic office worker. But... what exactly are you trying to say?"
His attention shifted to the aquarium, snapping a few photos before continuing. "Hmm... what if I were to say I stole your start? How does that sound?"
"What do you mean, Satoru-kun?"
"Yuuji... he mentioned something about this before we set off on our little date. He mentioned that you had planned on something. I don't think he meant to spill the tea because it was supposed to be a secret. But you know how bad Yuuji is at keeping secrets, so, well, he let it slip."
He paused, then added, "The thing you want to say this day is... Satoru-kun, as unbelievable as it may sound, I'm absolutely head over heels for you. I love you."
He giggled. "And since I stole your start, it means, like, you know what I mean, right?"
Now your mind is full of cherry blossoms...
A smile curled on his lips. As he gets closer, your shoulder touches his, making your heart beat so fast. How could he know this so fast? Did he know that you loved him for a very long time?
He shook his head and removed his sunglasses, perching them atop his silver hair. He stared at you with a soft smile. "I love you. Will you be mine?"
Geto Suguru (Boss/Employee Relationship)
"I wish I could see you not only today but every day. Please stay by my side," Geto expressed lovingly.
The memory of Geto's heartwarming words lingered in your mind. It's so endearing, isn't it? How could he leave you with this feeling? Did he even try to find out or ask you after this?
You still remember that time. It was a nice morning during spring, and you both indulged in green tea and sakuramochi on the terrace. Talking about sakura and kakigori. You found yourself just nodding and smiling, unable to find the words to respond.
Perhaps... you're too shy to face him, or it was the shock of his unexpected confession, considering your interaction with him is always in a formal atmosphere.
His words were consistently warm, polite, and kind towards everyone, but sometimes they left you confused about whether they were sincere or merely of his inherent kindness.
But you knew too well; it's just a part of Geto's natural charm. Despite occasional rudeness towards non-jujutsu-shi, everyone adored him for his personality, a trait you've always loved in your deepest heart.
This time, Geto invited you to the planetarium. He expressed being in a good mood to take you out, releasing his desire to spend quality time together, and affirming that you're the only one who fits with him on this date.
Despite the comments from everyone that the date was so childish and corny, you eagerly accepted the invitation. You loved this idea.
He said he has always loved stars and planets since he was a little kid, and this kind of date would refresh his sweet childhood memory.
That morning, when he came out of his room, it was the first time you saw Geto dressed casually instead of in his priestly attire. You couldn't help but notice how effortlessly appealing he looked, hinting at his charm, his pretty face, and his warm eyes. Everything about him is indeed beautiful.
"Shall we?" he said, extending his hand. You felt the warmth and gentleness of his palm as you squeezed it, eliciting a chuckle from him.
His large palm brought a sense of protection and security as it touched your skin, making you happy. It was the first time you felt such intensity from touching Geto Suguru, sparking curiosity about whether he had done this with anyone else.
"Are you happy?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder.
"Of course, Geto-san. How could I say no to an invitation from someone like you? I'm grateful for your company."
He nodded and smiled, then paused. "So... would you mind if we did this again in the future? Perhaps... for something more romantic and intimate?"
You blushed. "Um..."
"Oh, sorry if I confused you. What I meant is," he leaned in closer, gently touching your hair, then traced your jawline with a smile.
"I understand if you don't see it as romantic, but, well, I'd like to ask if you want to meet my friend next week. She's a talented designer and has crafted some beautiful wedding dresses."
"What do you mean?"
He chuckled. "I was thinking of having you try on her wedding dress. I know she has one that would look stunning on you. I envision you wearing it, sitting by my side, like a good couple, because... I want to marry you."
Nanami Kento (Secret Admirer)
"Oh, flowers?"
Haibara teased, peeking over from his desk with a mischievous grin. It's been a month now since you started receiving these surprises. Adorned at your desk whenever you come to the office in the morning.
At first, it was just a card, but then the next week came flowers, followed by your favorite cake, coffee, and even a keychain featuring your beloved mascot. Yet, each gift arrives without a sender's name, leaving you intrigued.
You attempt to inquire with your coworkers, hoping to find alternatives and answers from them. Unfortunately, they seem unaware of the sender's identity, giving a hint that they can't help you with this.
"Aren't you happy that you have a secret admirer? I can see it in your eyes," Nanami says, his gaze fixed on the computer screen as his fingers dance across the keyboard.
"I'm just wondering why they're hiding all these gifts and remaining anonymous. I'm not a teenager anymore; this kind of thing only makes me anxious, you know."
He pauses briefly, shifting his attention from the computer to you, who is engrossed in checking documents at your desk.
"I wouldn't consider the sender creepy or anything, because whoever it is seems to have a deep understanding of me. Like, when I mentioned to Haibara-kun that I had a migraine, the next day I received migraine medicine."
Paused, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. "Or when I mentioned I wanted to eat chocolate truffles, the next day they appeared on my desk. None of this feels coincidental, I must admit."
You stroke your chin thoughtfully. "I suppose... I appreciate it when someone shows they care about me, but it'd mean even more if I knew who they were. You see, I've always been alone since I was a child, so when someone shows me their kindness, I'll love them sincerely."
"So, what are you going to do with this?" Nanami's voice was tinged with anxiety.
"Maybe I'll bake a cake or something for them as my gratitude. My grandma gave me a recipe for baking a cake, and she called it Cake For Someone Special."
You force a smile and gaze at him. "But, I'll probably say goodbye to them if I have met them, and... thank you?
Nanami's voice changed, sounding anxious. "Eh... why?"
You chuckled. "The manager transferred me to another office. It's a new office for what I know, and they needed a new staff."
After hearing this, a burning sensation stirred within Nanami. He attempted to quell it by conjuring thoughts in his mind. But a question flooded his thoughts: How could this happen to me? Should I reveal the truth? That I—
"Nanami-san..." You began taking on a mysterious tone. "You know... everyone has unique handwriting. Do you believe that each person's handwriting is unique?"
He frowned but remained silent.
"I've been observing all my coworkers and noticed that each of them has a different handwriting. Well, some share similarities, but there are still noticeable differences."
You glanced at him. "And your handwriting, Nanami-san, is truly remarkable. It seems to reflect your personality—kind, caring, and observant."
You continued, "Some believe that handwriting can reveal a person's personality. I don't claim to be an expert, but I've noticed similarities between your handwriting and our little anonymous. So, are you—"
"I'm sorry," he murmured, his words trailing into the air.
"Yes, I know it sounds ridiculous and weird. I was the one who sent you gifts, cards, and everything. I know I may sound creepy or cheesy, but... I just want to share my feelings with you. Sorry if I'm not gentle enough with all of this, but please... don't leave me. I'll send the gifts once again, with my name on them, as long as you remain by my side."
It felt a bit odd hearing Nanami speak those words in front of you at the office. Yet, deep down, there was a sense of joy upon hearing them. Something inside you is blooming like a flower. Beautiful.
You chuckled softly and whispered, "Who said I'm going to leave you? I simply mentioned that our manager might transfer me, but I'm not necessarily agreeing with it. So how about we grab lunch after this? And we can talk about this later, right, Nanami-san?"
Oh... Lord, how smoothly Haibara's plan was working on Nanami. It was quite satisfying...
"And, again, Nanami-san. I'll never leave you."
Fushiguro Megumi (cuteness)
He adores flowers. Everything about them always makes his heart float like a delicate feather. He can't recall exactly when his love for flowers began, but it's likely influenced by his sister.
As one of the florists in town, Megumi loves to visit you to admire the flowers and buy some for his sister.
It's quite uncommon to find a man with such a sweet appreciation for flowers. He explained that it stemmed from his sister's passion, and he loves cherishing and feeling happiness from them.
For you, it's delightful to connect with someone who shares similar interests, and you hold this bond with Megumi.
Megumi has also taken the time to learn Hanakotoba, and he happily shares his knowledge with anyone, including you.
Whenever he talks about flowers, you can see the kindness in his eyes and the warmth of his compassionate smile, sometimes leaving you feeling a bit bashful.
One day, when he visits you, there's an air of gloom and sadness surrounding him.
Though you're unsure of what has transpired, you detect a hint of sorrow in his demeanor.
He may be reluctant to divulge the details, or perhaps he's attempting to shield his sadness, but it's clear that he needs someone to confide in or share his sorrow.
"Are you alright? You seem rather down," you remark, your gaze drifting to the orchids nearby.
"I... I'm not sure if I am. It's just... you know, a little problem."
You couldn't help but chuckle at the fleeting glimpse of upset in his eyes. Still wondering how to cheer him up? Perhaps you could try a bouquet for free or a comforting cup of hot chocolate for your dear friend.
It's so rare to see him this gloomy; usually, he's always seen with a warm smile around you, signaling his comfort in your presence.
But this time... feels different.
"I can help you, Megumi-kun."
He is gazing at you, falling into stillness while brushing back his hair. "I want to give my friend a gift, but I don't know her favorite."
Oh... her?
So... it's because of a woman? What kind of woman is changing Megumi's mood all of a sudden?
There's nothing wrong with that, but why does it feel uneasy to you?
You halt your thoughts and shake your head, knowing it's best not to jump to conclusions.
You tease him and giggle to lighten the mood. "Oh, who is she? Your new girlfriend?"
A hint of blush renders his cheeks, and despite Megumi trying to hide his shyness, you can still see it. Oh... so cute. Cute.
"N-no, it's not quite like that. She's a good friend, someone truly special. She's always there for me, supporting me, showing me love, and I want to express my gratitude somehow."
Deep down... you're aware that his feelings for this woman go beyond friendship. It's evident in Megumi's eyes and the way he proudly talks about her.
"I see..."
Well, he may be in love.
"How about you give her gerberas?"
He frowned. "Why?"
"Well, red gerberas represent unconscious love or being fully immersed in love. It looks like your feelings for her are more than just friendship. But I'm sorry, Megumi-kun. I don't have gerberas."
He smiled softly and nodded. You felt content seeing Megumi's mood shift to warmth, gentleness, and softness, especially when you noticed the sparkle in his eyes when you mentioned gerberas.
"Why do I forget about that one? Thank you for reminding me."
The last thing you remember is that Megumi ran through the entrance, leaving you standing alone in the shop. A sigh escaped from your lips, and a strange emptiness enveloped you, wrapping you alone in the corner.
As you returned home from work, the moments of the day almost faded from your mind until you spotted Megumi standing in front of your apartment.
You have no idea how long he's been there. But it was a beautiful afternoon when the sun went down and was replaced by hues of twilight. All you can see is him grabbing something that looks like a bouquet from afar, but you aren't sure.
"Megumi-kun, what are you doing here?"
Now, as you gazed at him, he stood there, tenderly holding a bouquet in his hand.
"There's something I need to discuss about our relationship, something I need to confirm with you. It might seem trivial, but... I feel it's important to say," he began, his smile warm and genuine.
As he handed you the bouquet, you noticed a bouquet of gerberas nestled within, elegantly wrapped alongside a beautiful envelope. It's simply beautiful, just like him, Fushiguro Megumi. It was perhaps the most exquisite bouquet you'd ever laid eyes on.
Caught between reality and a daydream, you found yourself stuck by Megumi's smile. How could all of this be happening to you? Was it truly meant for you—the flower, the letter, his confession, everything?
"You're simply beautiful, and I love you," he whispered softly. "I want you to be with me."
Choso (First Kiss)
"The rain doesn't seem to be letting up. How are we going to get home?"
"I'm not sure, but stuck in the classroom isn't a good idea. I should hurry home, or my brothers will worry about me."
"Heh, you're such a good big brother."
Rain falling to the ground creates a calming atmosphere. The aroma of moist soil is in your nose. It always leaves a pleasant, romantic impression.
A peculiar feeling began to invade your mind, pleading for assistance in escaping these situations. It was dark and cold, and you hate them. All you could sense were raindrops, Choso's humming, and the ticking of the clock. It leaves a blue atmosphere for you, to be honest.
His eyes gazed at you with a smile on his lips. "Yeah, maybe we could use an umbrella, but I think you'd hate it if we used that ugly one."
You joking. "An umbrella? Well, maybe it would be nice if we used it. You know, it sounds... romantic."
A warm feeling began to invade your system as you said that. You weren't sure if he could notice or sense the tease, but your rosy cheeks gave it away.
"Oh, you want to try it?"
A smile waltzed across Choso's lips. He studied your face before nodding. His gaze, as warm as the sun, locked onto yours, desperately vying for your attention.
He sidled closer. "You know, just trying... it won't hurt you."
He shared his laughter with you, a symphony of joy that danced through the air.
He reached for his umbrella in his bag. "I'm not lying," he said. "I always brought an umbrella from home; so shall we?"
Your gaze swept over him, scanning what the umbrella looked like. Well, it doesn't seem bad, like he said earlier, despite how tiny it was. It could fit both of you. Choso is a tall man, but you're sure that the umbrella will fit both of you. And you think it will be good if you're close to him.
"What do you think?" His words hung in the air like a playful challenge. "Would you like to try it?"
You nodded in agreement and, without thinking. Now that your attention is drawn to the outside, the raindrop is still falling but not as heavy as before.
You can't seem to remember everything clearly; it all happened so fast. From what you recall, you're both already outside with Choso under the same umbrella. The atmosphere is cold and freezing. It's been a long time since you've shared an umbrella with someone, let alone been this close.
You try to calm yourself by closing your eyes, but in reality, you are unable to move an inch of your very fingers. It's so weird, to be honest.
"Are you okay?" Choso's voice brought you back to reality. You gazed at him and noticed that your face and his were close, almost touching his nose.
...at this rate, he'll be...
"N-no, I'm okay..."
"Come closer," he whispered. "I don't want you to get wet by the rain, or you'll be sick." He continued. "You don't want me to be closer?"
"No, it's not, Choso-kun. I just..."
He leaned in, closing the gap between you and him. Making your face even blushier than before. "You know Nobara says when you're this close with someone, you should kiss them. Do you want to try it too? Well, this is my first time kissing someone; I just want to try."
"Oh... Choso—"
But before you could respond to him, his lips had already met yours, sealing you with a warm and gentle kiss, leaving you breathless, vulnerable, and willing to surrender.
For someone who claims it was his first time, his kiss was actually good—not rushed or forced, just a tender and soft kiss from someone you love dearly.
He whispered between the kisses. "Promise me you'll stay like this..."
#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#geto suguru x reader#geto x reader#nanami kento x reader#nanami x reader#fushiguro megumi x reader#megumi x reader#choso x reader#choso x you#choso jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen
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Also, "you know I love you, right" with dreamling from the gentle prompts
Hi anon I am SO SORRY this is like almost six months late, but I finally wrote something for this prompt!!! 😁💖
AO3 Link Here or read the whole fic below!
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Dream is nervous.
He knows, logically, that he should not be. That he is, as always, catastrophizing things in his mind, thinking of the worst possible scenario for how things will go. But he also knows that what he plans to ask Hob tonight over dinner is not an insignificant question. And he has to get everything just right.
Dream has gotten things wrong so many times in his relationships. With his parents, with his siblings, his friends, his past lovers. He has asked for too much too soon, and given too little until it was too late to fix what had been wronged.
Dream wants to do things right with Hob.
Hob, who has been so patient with Dream as he picked himself up after his divorce from Calliope. Hob, who had only been a casual acquaintance at first, a friend of a friend of a friend. Hob, who had somehow, miraculously, fallen just as deeply in love with Dream over the last two years as Dream had done so with him.
And now, Dream wants them to take the next step in their relationship.
He sets the stage perfectly; buying a bottle of wine from the vineyard where they had their first date to pair with the dinner Hob is preparing in Dream’s kitchen. Candles on the table for ambiance. Dream is also wearing a sleek satin button down that he knows that Hob likes on him.
���Is it my birthday?” Hob asks, waggling his eyebrows when Dream lets him into his flat. When Dream closes the door behind him, he finds himself pulled into the passionate kiss. Hob presses him against the closed door and licks eagerly into Dream’s mouth, drawing a guttural groan from deep inside him.
“You’re tempting enough for me to want dessert first,” Hob teases, nipping at Dream’s bottom lip before pulling away slightly to appreciate Dream’s outfit more. Dream laughs, and pulls Hob back to himself in a tight hug.
“Perhaps I just wanted to look nice tonight,” Dream whispers against his lover’s ear. “But good things come to those who wait.” Hob huffs, then kisses him again, gentler this time, and Dream melts into it.
They eventually make their way into Dream’s kitchen, and Hob notices the bottle of wine and candles on the table immediately.
“Please tell me I haven’t forgotten a special occasion,” he says, his tone teasing, but Dream can tell he’s nervous. Dream shakes his head and nudges Hob towards the stove and countertops, kissing him again and squeezing his arm.
“No special occasion forgotten, I promise,” Dream reassures Hob. “I am only doing this just because. To be romantic.”
“If you say so,” Hob replies, still uncertain. He lets the matter drop, and goes on to prepare dinner while Dream opens the wine and finishes preparing the table. His hands are shaking with every movement, but thankfully Hob is too preoccupied with cooking to really notice. They trae stories about their days, Hob on the latest drama in the faculty department of his university, and Dream complaining about the minutiae of having to plan his gallery opening next month.Dinner itself flies by and before Dream knows it, they’ve opened the bottle of wine and moved to the living room to cuddle.
Hob tries to suggest putting on a movie, but Dream shakes his head, taking a deep breath and putting his wine down on the coffee table.
“You know I love you, right?” Dream asks, wringing his hands together despite himself. Hob hums, and then takes Dream’s hands gently in his. He brings one of Dream’s hands to his lips and kisses it, slow and tender. Dream melts like butter into his touch.
“I do, and I love you too,” Hob answers, his smile warm and inviting. “What’s this all really about, love?”
Dream stares into Hob’s dark brown eyes, and swallows thickly. Now or never he supposes. At least now he’ll know whether they really were of the same mind about the future.
“I—Iwantustomoveintogether,” Dream blurts out all in a single breath. There. Now it was all out in the open.
Hob furrows his brow in confusion at first, seeming to not have understood what Dream had just said. But then his eyes widen in shock, and Dream feels his stomach swoop. He can’t tell whether Hob looks happy, or upset, and it absolutely terrifies Dream.
But then Hob’s eyes soften, and Dream feels hope burn bright like a star within his chest.
“You mean it?” Hob asks, his voice sounding just as fragile as Dream feels. “You—you want—”
“Yes,” Dream exhales, before Hob practically knocks him into the other side of the couch with how forcefully he kisses him. Dream wraps his entire body around Hob’s, unwilling to let go of him for even just a moment. Hob technically hadn’t answered the question just yet, but Dream can infer by the way the other man is kissing him that the answer is a very resolute yes.
“You know, you didn’t need to get all dressed up just to ask me that,” Hob tells him when they break apart to breathe. “I would’ve said yes even if you’d asked me in the middle of Tesco.”
Dream barks out a laugh and then pulls Hob into another kiss.
“I would hope by now, you know that anything else less than the most romantic gesture is unacceptable by my standards,” he replies with mock indignation. Hob doesn’t reply, only kisses him again, and everything is perfect.
They soon fall into excited discussions about the future, talking late into the night about whether they will stay in one flat or the other, the best time to move, how much in monthly payments they can afford between the two of them. Dream is not particularly married to his flat, and he knows that the location is not the most convenient to Hob’s university. Hob’s flat is small, however, and Dream knows he needs a larger space in order to be able to paint. They eventually decide on vacating their separate flats and looking for a place together.
Dream’s stomach is in knots, the good kind though, when they go to bed. He’s never gotten to truly choose his own living space with another person. When he and Calliope had been married, they’d moved into her childhood home, and it had never quite felt like home, even after Orpheus had been born. Even his current flat, the style, the decor, all of it is handpicked by his mother, Nyx.
But this new flat? This hypothetical for now space? This will be just for him and Hob. It will be just theirs.
Six months later, Hob carries Dream over the threshold of their new townhome like they’ve just gotten married, and Dream laughs in delight. He cannot remember the last time he’d been so happy.
When Hob lets him down in their new, still empty living room, Dream takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, letting the emotional weight of what they’ve done wash over him.
This home is theirs. Both their names are on the mortgage, a contract that binds them closer than marriage does, at least in Hob’s opinion. This home hadn’t been in their initial plan, they had only seen it in passing while looking at another flat in the same neighborhood, but it had been love at first sight for both of them.
It had also, admittedly, been a little bit outside of their budget. But Hob was expecting a promotion, and Dream’s gallery opening had plenty of buzz surrounding it. Things would work themselves out. He knew they would.
They’re arguing again, and Dream doesn’t even remember what started it. They were fighting more and more lately; about chores, about things that needed to be fixed, about the ever growing pile of bills between them.
Hob had gotten the promotion he’d wanted, but it came with more work and time away than either of them expected. Dream’s gallery opening was well attended, but only a few of his paintings had been purchased outright. The gallery assured him this was normal, and he knew it to be true, as a debut artist he needed to build a reputation. But the disappointment stung nonetheless.
The house too, had been more work and more expense than they had expected. It seemed like something was always breaking, or needed to be replaced, and they could never agree on a chore schedule that did not make the other feel like they were doing more of the work.
Now they were arguing over what to have for dinner, a simple meal, an activity they used to both consider sacred between them. But Hob doesn’t want to cook, and Dream is tired of eating takeaway. Hob tells him Dream needs to learn to cook. Dream tells him that Hob is too picky to cook for.
“You know what? Forget it,” Hob says, throwing up his arms in surrender and turning away from him. “This isn’t worth it.”
Dream’s heart shatters when he hears those words.
Not worth it, not worth it, not worth it. Dream has heard those words a million times in a million different contexts, but it always, always, means the same thing.
Dream wasn’t worth it. Wasn’t worth the effort it took to put up with him, to be patient with him, to love him. Calliope had said he wasn’t worth all the fights and arguments. Cory had said their relationship wasn’t worth staying in London for when his dream job was in the US. Nada had said having to deal with his family wasn’t worth it. And now Hob had decided Dream wasn’t worth his time or his love either.
Before he knows it, Dream is running out of the room, out of their home, and into the pouring rain. He can’t hear anything over the pounding of his heart in his ears.
Not worth it. Not. Worth. It
He’s worthless, worthless, worthless.
Dream hadn’t even bothered putting on shoes, so it doesn’t surprise him when he slips on the wet cobblestones of the street and he falls.
What does surprise him is that he doesn’t hit the ground.
Because Hob is there. Holding him back, and gripping him like he’s afraid Dream will disappear if he doesn’t.
Hob had come after him. Had run after Dream in the pouring rain just to catch him.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Hob is crying into his shoulder as he pulls Dream to his chest. “I forgot that’s what you hate hearing the most, I didn’t mean it. Not like that. Never like that.”
Dream chokes out a sob of his own, then wriggles himself out of Hob’s grip so he can turn around and hug his lover back.
“I’m sorry too,” he says, pulling Hob into a desperate kiss. “I love you.”
“I love you too. I swear it Dream, I’ll never leave you alone,” Hob promises. “You’re absolutely worth fighting for, always.”
Dream doesn’t know what the future holds for them. But he knows, now, in this moment, soaked to his skin and freezing cold, that he and Hob can get through anything. Because they love each other. Because Hob will fight for Dream as much as Dream will fight for Hob. Because they’re not perfect people, but they are perfect for each other. And that is worth everything.
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Ahh hi I saw you are wanting request I just gave a question if you would write a Rhea Ripley x reader [Platonic] Or maybe a judgement Day x reader [Platonic]
(Only asking BCS ik some people only like to write romantic relationships)
(First Request! Thank you <3)
Judgment Day x GN Reader (Platonic)
"Family"
You are a new wrestler who has recently joined the main roster but is struggling to find your own group luckily for you a certain group wants you as a new addition and they cant wait to welcome you in.
Y/n sighed as they packed all their stuff away in the locker room, the sounds off chatter filled their ears. It seemed ever since joining a few weeks back they couldn't find their place, everyone had already made there friends and even though they were all nice they weren't accepting new people into there groups. Y/n had never felt lonelier hearing everyone making plans after the match, they had given up on asking anymore groups if they could join the rejection hurt every time.
As they were leaving the locker room they suddenly bumped into Rhea. "I'm so sorry Rhea I didn't see you there" y/n said panicked the last thing they wanted was to start making enemies especially not with the judgment day. All they got back in return was a laugh "Don't worry about it, actually I was just looking for you" As y/n went through all the possible things she could have done to make this conversation go bad they were interrupted but this time by a male arm being wrapped around their shoulder. They looked up to see Damian who was smiling down at them "Yeah we all wanted to talk to you if you don't mind" Y/n looked at them now realizing Dom and Finn had also stood with Rhea. Dom started walking to the Judgment day's room "Lets talk in there don't want anyone listening in" Finn followed behind him nodding, Rhea grabs Y/n's hand and leads her along with a cheeky grin "your not in trouble" she jokes.
Finn opens the door for them all to go inside "We don't bite... well I don't cant say same bout this lot" he jokes getting a laugh out of y/n. While walking in she can see Dom already sprawled across one of the sofas. "so what did you want to talk about" y/n asked looking at them all, Damian's arm still around their shoulder. "Well we've been talking and we think you'd make a perfect addition to the Judgment Day, we have already talked to Triple H and he thinks its just what we need as long as you agree to it" Damian says giving your shoulder a slight squeeze. Before y/n can even gather their thoughts Rhea grabs y/n's arms desperately "Please say yes I'm begging you I need to talk to someone about [same interest] with" she begs over dramatically to sell her point making Dom shake his head and laugh. "So what do you say y/n are you in" Finn asks with a slight hint of fear.
They all wait with anticipation until finally "Yes!" y/n smiles enthusiastically they had been waiting for this moment since they joined WWE they finally had a group. "Welcome to the family" says Finn giving y/n a hug which they happily gave back. "Not fair y/n is now my new best friend I should be hugging them" said Rhea joining in the hug. "Now I feel left out" Dom piped up jumping into the hug which gained a eye roll from Damian who wrapped his arms lazily around the group hug.
"Now the family is complete" Whispers Rhea with a huge smile.
(First request done I hope this was okay! I had so much fun writing it and hopefully overtime get to do more scenarios with the judgment day)
#wwe imagine#wwe x reader#dominik mysterio x reader#rhea ripley x reader#damian priest x reader#finn balor x reader#the judgment day#judgment day x reader#platonic#gender neutral reader
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I know you don’t rewrite arcs until they’re done, but I love hearing about your early ideas while I brood over how badly this arc has let me down. Do you have any like super vague ideas about Splashtail’s motivations yet? He’s like a way worse Hawkfrost in my mind, because they’re both very young cats who Are Just Evil. But Hawkfrost had a genuinely interesting backstory that the Erin’s simply fumbled, meanwhile Splashtail is a cartoonishly evil atheist. I feel nothing towards him, he’s not intimidating or interesting or even funny. Save me Bonefall save me (if I got something wrong please ignore it, these books are so disappointing my brain is making me forget them to protect itself.)
If it helps at all, I'm staying sane with the observation that Hawkfrost is a high charisma character making critical failure rolls, while Splashtail is a cringefail loser with no stats rolling nat20s. He becomes 50% more sufferable when you imagine a long, pungent pause after anything he says, broken only by the sound of an offscreen player tossing some dice. When the silence is broken, it's whatever NPC has been charmed speaking in the beleaguered voice of the dungeon master.
SO my early thoughts are shaping up to be that I'd like to do a slightly more serious version of that.
BB!Splashtail is the Clan equivalent of a 19-year-old, desperate for more power and respect in his society. In terms of his stats, he's promising but not outstanding. A decent fighter, a competent leader. Even in terms of lineage; his father is Sneezecloud, a respected trader and negotiator, but his mother is Havenpelt. An ex-rogue who has sworn to live by the ways of RiverClan.
Curlfeather is the one with the plans. She's the one with vision. Daughter of Reedwhisker, grandchild of Mistystar, with grand leaders like Bluestar, Oakheart, and Crookedstar in her past, greatness runs in her blood. Scandal, too-- but for some reason it's acceptable that her great-grandparents were codebreaking traitors.
Splashtail hates Curlfeather, but he can't get anywhere unless he tries to be her. He steals HER plans. He acts like SHE does. Manages to snatch power from her paws, and then has no idea what to do with it.
I'm thinking that I want his reign to be going smoothly at first, actually, going from a bit of a bossy jerk, to trying to enact Curlfeather's ambitions by launching fights and doing it badly, to active tyranny as he tries to keep control over RiverClan. Depending on how Star goes, I might have Berryheart make some kind of move to seize power over him.
At the core of how I see him though, is that Splashtail has no plan. His ideology leans Thistle Law... in a sort of dumbass 4Channer kind of way. He talks a big game about the glory of battle, but folds fast when his enemy can punch back. The only person he could successfully manipulate was a traumatized child. He will bring back pureblooded glory to the Clan, except his personal family of course
As for the Evil Atheism stuff... lol. Lmao, even. Not needed. If I need to make him a more powerful and serious danger, it's not going to come from the fact he's godless. If being an atheist gave you super murder powers, Bill Nye would have used them to obliterate half of the US government by now.
Depending on how the last book of ASC goes,
The Harelight kill is probably going to get changed to Hallowflight. Harelight watches his dad die, and Splashstar is drenched in the blood of one of RiverClan's most famous heroes. No turning back after that.
On that note I'd also make the fight longer and bloodier. A butchery of an execution showcasing Splashtail fighting like a beast and Hallowflight like a trained warrior.
I REAALLY want to make Splashtail's death a drowning. Curlfeather, demon she is now, finishes him off by dragging him under. To protect her daughter. They will have to do something VERY satisfying for me to not do this.
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Hello everyone,
long time anonymous Kaylor here (lurker is the word probably), and long post incoming 💚
I’ve just recently started using this space more openly and sharing opinions, which I’ve honestly always been quite scared to do for various reasons, so I just wanted to share a bit of how I became a part of this little piece of heaven here on Kaylor tumblr and how important this community has been to me 🌈
When I first found out about Kaylor, it was years ago through a mutual connection on instagram. At the time, I too was going through a phase of slowly understanding myself and my queerness, which I’d obviously suppressed for so long (it took me just as many years, if not more, to actually accept it after realising it had always been there). So when I found this rabbit hole (or should i say these rabbit holes, as it all started with TTB, kaylor evidence, the masterposts, and all of the newer tumblr pages that have kept the memories from the archives alive all these years) - I finally realised what had always been quite confusing before: why did I always relate to Taylor’s music so deeply ? why did I feel like I could actually feel was she was feeling, even though I’d definitely never felt so strongly about any man in my life, while she was allegedly the straightest human on the planet ? Well that’s because she wasn’t. She was, although on a much bigger and more complicated and public scale, one of us 🎉🌈 As someone who struggled for years to accept my non-straightness, finding out that the biggest artist on Earth, whose music I’d loved for so long, was a tiny bit similar to me and my experience, made me feel a warmth and a tenderness and a happiness so strong that my heart could have exploded for it. I genuinely cried myself to sleep every night for 2 / 3 weeks after finding out. A happy, sad, angry kind of cry - happy to be in on the most beautiful secret of our generation, sad for all the freedom and the life that T & K have had to miss out on, and angry, SO fucking angry that some small-minded, arrogant idiots felt entitled enough to do this to them, to her. To take a life that wasn’t theirs, and make it what they wanted it to be, and take what they wanted from it. Fuck you. Fuck all of you who did this. “So unfair” I mumbled while trying to sleep. “So beautiful” I couldn’t breathe.
Fast-forward to today, I’ve spent an unreasonable and unhealthy amount of time lurking on every corner of the tumblrverse as well as analysing songs (my fave past time) and converting all my besties to Kaylorism (they are now so invested it’s ruining our lives 😂💖).
I’ve been trying to learn as much as possible and I’m so thankful to all the fabulous blogs on here:
@spade-riddles
@chosetherose
@9w1ft
@asteracaea
@rainbowdaisy13
@daisyswift3
@kwyw
@iwanthermidnightz
@tales-of-kaylor
@bettyshoweduptotheparty
and I’m sure there’s so many more I’m forgetting please drop your @ if you’d like !!
All this to say, I’ve spent years anonymously supporting and reading theories and enjoying the amazing safe space you have created for our community - you all have changed my life and I’m sure you’ve changed T’s life too, so I just wanted to share my little bit of personal Kaylor lore because it still makes me so happy and emotional to think about all the difficult times we’ve all been through and knowing that now the future’s bright, dazzling 💖🌈
Sending love out to you all, thanks for everything. Onwards and upwards from here xx
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Let’s talk
———————————————————————
April 11, 2024
“Please welcome to the stage Joe Burrow!”- Jason
Joe walks up and gives the boys a hug and a shake.
Today was the day that Joe was going to be doing New Hight’s podcast live with Travis Kelce, Jason, and Orlando brown Jr. You were so excited! You decided to come and watch to support Joe. You were wearing a orange skims bodysuit with blue ripped up jeans and Air Forces. You got sat next to THE KYLIE KELCE! You love her and what she does to support women’s sports.
“Hey, I’m Kylie! It’s very nice to meet you!”- Kylie
“Hi! It’s so nice to meet you too!”- you
You both hug and sit down
“So, you are Joe’s girlfriend?”- Kylie
“Yes! been dating for 7 years, but just recently got engaged. Trying to keep it low key.”- you chuckled
“Wow, Congrats!I’m surprised I’ve still been with mine! He’s a lot of work, but I love him.”- Kylie
“Awww, you guys are a very sweet couple! And your daughters are the cutest!”- you
“Aww! Thank you!”- Kylie
You and Kylie talked a little about being a WAG and how they managed football and family time. The boys were facing you. You had a clear view of Joe and loved seeing him interact in this kind of environment.
The boys talked football for the most part but then they went into family life.
“So, your parents have really been your number 1 supporter since day one?”- Travis
“Yeah, they helped me through a lot and have always been there for me… but my fiancé has also been there for me through a lot and wouldn’t be here without her too.”- Joe
“Wait what! Bring it back, you are getting married?!”- Travis
Joe chuckled
“Yeah..uh just got engaged last year. We decided to keep it private until I guess now.”- joe
The whole stadium went crazy
I was shocked. I of course didn’t mind he told them because I been wanting to announce it for a while but was waiting on what Joe thought but here we are. He looked at me and winked.
“Congrats man! Is she here tonight?”- Jason
“Yeah..she’s right there.”- joe points at you
The camera points to you and soon enough you are on the Jumbotron. You smiled and waved. You were so nervous.
“Ahhh there she is folks!”- jason
The camera points back to the boys
“Shes beautiful,congrats.”- Travis
“Thank you! She uh.. has helped through a lot. Y/n has been with me my whole journey from college to bengals so she’s been apart for a long time and I wouldn’t be the person I am today without her so I’m very grateful.”- joe
“Wow! Well Joe you are one very lucky guy.”- Travis
“Trust me I know.”- joe chuckled
——————————————————-
After
“Hey.”- joe
He wrapped his arms around you from the back
“Hi!”- you
“So,what did you think?”- joe
“Well, I thought you did awesome. I’m so proud of you! And was very surprised about the shout out.”-you
“Well, I just feel like it’s been hard these past couple of months and I felt like you deserved it. You’re my girl and I don’t show you enough how much I love and care for you and I’m willing to do more now.”-joe
“Joe, thank you, but you are the best partner a girl can ask for. I know you are private about our relationship and I respect that. You amaze me every day with your smarts and talent. I love you Mr. QB.”- you
“I love you too, y/n.”- joe
He placed a kiss on your cheek.
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Insta
Y/n stories
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Heeey, I saw you are writing for fairy tail😍😍 I am obsessed. Can I please request a Natsu x Reader fiction. I don't have anything specific in mind. Maybe they are on a quest and reader is cold and Natsu helps them warm up. I don't know, just pure fluff!!! Thank you!!!!!!
just a lil drabble while im sick :)
natsu was my first ever anime crush and ive been feeling so nostalgic about him <3
late night cuddle.
you tried not to make it obvious, but it was getting harder by the second.
just why the hell was it so cold?
it had been like that for the entirety of the mission but bearable in the midst of everything. natsu and gray's bickering, coupled with light chattering with lucy and erza had been enough to keep your mind off of it on the trip here, and then once you were in the thick of it, it was pretty easy to ignore too. fighting, after all, built up quite the sweat.
but now? with no sun and just the dark, lonely sky, and a sleeping bag that was as thin as the shirt you were wearing it? it was so much more harder to ignore now.
a glance over your shoulder to your teammates tells you they're pretty much all asleep themselves, except for natsu who'd elected to keep first watch. happy had first volunteered to join him, but twenty minutes in you'd heard natsu chuckle affectionately and send him off to bed too.
so, that left just him and then the rest of your teammates peacefully asleep.
your eyes flicker to lucy next to you; you could ask her if she wanted to share a blanket and sleep close for warmth. you knew the girl never really wore the most appropriate clothing so she wouldn't mind and it wasn't like it was your first time ever having to share a sleeping bag before.
but.... but she looked so peaceful. her eyes shut and her lips parted just slightly as her chest rose and fell with soft breathes and you remember how she'd gotten hit partically hard earlier in the fight. the large bandaged bruise on her cheek a swift reminder and you didn't want to wake her up especially when rest was probably the best thing for her.
not to mention, wendy was off with gajeel and levy for a mission so she didn't have wendy's soothing healing magic to ease any of the pain.
yeah. no. you definitely were not disturbing her.
you glance to your other teammates. you loved gray, but he definitely wouldn't warm you up—if anything, he'd probably just make you more cold. erza wasn't an option either. you'd made that mistake once before and your head still hurt from being slammed against her armour (which she wore to bed, of course) and then kept against it for the entirety of the night.
happy was nice to cuddle with but he wouldn't keep you all that warm.
finally, your eyes flicker back to natsu. his back is turned to you and he's sitting crossed-legged by the edge of the camp, completely in his own world. he'd be warm, the warmest out of everyone, given him being a fire dragon slayer. but... the thought of... of asking him to warm you up brought an instant flush to your cheeks, embarrassment coursing through your entire veins and that idea gets reected instantly in fear of your feeligns.
so, relectantly, you're turning back around, letting your head fall against your thin pillow again.
you shut your eyes, forcing them shut and pull your knees to your chest, holding your blanket tight against you, praying that even just a bit of warmth will allow you to fall asleep.
a cold burst of wind has you shivering a second later and your teeth practically chitter against one another and you give up on sleep all together then.
with your blanket still wrapped around your shoulders, you make your way to where natsu's sat, sitting an appropriate distance from him.
"y/n?"
natsu's voice is soft, an odd tone you've never really heard on him before as his head tilts to face you, confusion written across his face.
"what're you doing up?"
"couldn't sleep," is all you offer in explanation, pulling your blanket closer around you. sending him a soft smile, you gesture behind you. "you can head to bed if you want. i can keep watch."
for a split second, he looks like he's gonna agree, the exhaustion clear on his face as he moves to thank you. then, wind brushes through the camp once again that has your hair swishing and your shoulders pulling in, a hiss leaving your lips as you try to fight through the bitting wind. natsu halts to a stop.
"why couldn't you sleep?"
you barely realize natsu's asked you a question until suddenly his face is right in front of you, concerned.
"o-oh!" you let out, startled, leaning back and using your hand to catch yourself. regrettably though, just the mere presence of natsu so close already makes you feel warmer. "it's no biggie!" you laugh off lightly, despite how good he feels so close. "i was just a little cold so i thought—"
whatever you're about to say gets promptly cut off the second you're being pulled flush against a firm chest. it all happens in a second. it's like you blink and suddenly you're being lifted off the ground and into a lap where a pair of arms wrap snuggly around your waist and you're completely surrounded by warmth.
"n-natsu!"
"here," natsu whispers, gruffly and it nearly sends you into a heart attack. "i'll keep you warm."
you blink, turning back to see him grinning brightly down at you. that same toothy grin natsu always has and the same one that always sends flutters through your stomach and has your heart racing madly against your chest.
you can barely stand it in general and even less when it's directed solely at you.
"oh," you manage to force out. "you—you don't have to, natsu!" you wingle in his grasp, trying to scoot off of his lap, but natsu's grip stays tight around you. "i meant what i said. you should get some rest and—"
"y/n?"
"...yeah?"
natsu's grin fades but only to turn into something softer. a warm, gentle grin falls on his face as he shakes his head. "you're practically shaking. you even feel cold, and that's a lot coming from me." you frown, just then realizing how cold you really had been. "it's fine. i offered to keep watch in the first place and besides? who better than me to keep you warm, right?"
there's a possessive edge to his tone that you don't quite catch.
the way he says it so nonchalantly has you absolutely reeling. so much that all you can manage in response is a weak hum and a nod as you turn back ahead of yourself, slowly and cautiously letting your back fall against natsu's chest.
"comfortable?"
you can feel his chest rumble as he speaks.
"y-yeah," you nod, letting yourself sink into his touch more, unable to deny how warm he is. a good warm. a really good warm. you can already feel the exhaustion you'd been feeling all day catching up to you as your eyelids grow heavy.
"thank you, natsu."
you say it just as your eyes fall shut, unaware of the warm smile natsu glances at you down with as you fall asleep in his arms and in his lap.
"no problem, y/n/n."
-
"damn, natsu, i didn't think you had it in you."
"shut it, droopy eyes."
"hey—!"
"they're in loveeeee~!"
"seriously, though, natsu. i... i certainly wasn't expecting to wake up to this."
"yeah, natsu. if you forced her, i—"
"what! no! what kind of guy do you take me for! i didn't force her to do—"
you let out a moan at the flutter of noises overwhelming your senses. all you can really register is how warm you are and how comfortable you are. the thought that you could stay here forever crosses your mind and you move to just go back to sleep, and then—
then. you remember everything.
being cold. unable to sleep. going to natsu. and then... then him pulling you into his lap and—
you snap awake, bolting out of natsu's arms who pulls back in surprise at your sudden movement. it takes you a second, blinking the sleep out of your eyes, before your gaze shifts from natsu who's smiling at you, with a faint pink to his cheeks, to the rest of your teammates stood in front of you.
gray looks smug, sending you a smirk as you turn bright red. erza looks utterly confused, her eyes snapping between you and natsu. happy is barely able to contain his laughter. and lucy's looking at you like you've grown a second head.
it occurs to you that you should say something.
turning to them, you raise your hand; "it isn't what you think."
"it's exactly what you think."
"natsu!"
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time for that age old question: is love enough to beat back the apocalypse?
Because Steve's right there to protect everybody like the self-sacrificing asshole he is help Eddie make the music he's not strong enough for yet help them all put Vecna in the ground for good this time, right?(!??!)
or: what's the song for your walkman, baby? does it even matter?
I Could Be Your Nurse (or something)
Or: Five Times Eddie Has To Ask For Help, Plus One Time He Doesn’t Need It Anymore (but asks anyway)
✨ for @penny00dreadful 💜
<<< three: sleep 🌗
🎧 🎹 four: play 🎶 🛡️
To tell the whole truth of it: it comes too quickly—Vecna’s last stand. Of course it does.
But probably, if he’s being fair: they’d never have been really ready. Not for this, and so maybe it’s best that they’re not fully healed, not at full strength when it all comes to a head, not least because that means Vecna and his petal-toothed brigade aren’t at full strength either. And that choice, for their side, is sloppy; the Party stands on the right-side-up against the attack because they have to. Vecna makes his move because—or else, Eddie’s fairly sure—because the sadistic ballsac is losing his fucking mind.
Which is terrifying, sure, but fuck if it doesn’t help their cause.
It’s actually over pretty quick, even compared to Spring Break which, while it felt like a lifetime for how much it changed Eddie’s own, it’s only been those handful of days—but it’s kinda like the grand finale at a fireworks show: everything all at once then, done. In the everything’s though: he might not like it, but Eddie’s not so foolish as to believe he’s not still too tender, still too deep in healing the finer points of being gnawed alive to be anything but a burden in the thick of it. He refuses to be sidelined, though, and he thinks it says a lot for the long-term health of this glorious impossible thing he’s…building? Yeah, he, umm, he, Eddie Munson, is building a real goddamn thing where he doesn’t even just let someone into his heart and treasures them there, no, he’s building a thing where he gives his heart and gets on new and soft and trembling in kind and they both get to work at the treasuring of something more precious than just their own vulnerable insides, but yeah, yeah:
Eddie thinks it bodes really fucking well for the hopes he has that lean hard toward forever, already, in Eddie’s chest at least when Steve looks his way as they’re planning the teams and he locks eyes with Eddie and Eddie doesn’t even get his mouth open to breathe, to plead don’t cut me out, don’t send me to Wayne to be ‘safe’ or ‘out of harm’s way’ or whatever, don’t leave me so fucking far from you my heart hurts just because it’s beating in the middle space unmoored and shaking around all bruised up with it for not knowing and I know I can’t do what everyone else can but it’ll be bad enough not being next to you please don’t push me far enough that I won’t know the moment you’re safe, just—
Steve meets his eyes, and Eddie’s breath catches before his heart trips, and then Steve speaks up—and he doesn’t, not all that often when the nerdiest among them are shoring up the battle plans—but he watches Eddie without blinking when he pipes up:
“Eddie’s on medical and audio, with Erica and Jon.”
And maybe it’s his tone—this almost wholly novel thing in Steve that’s steely and unquestionable but no one pushes, they nod and get back to work, totally seamless and, and…yeah. That’s all Eddie wanted. Best he could hope for. Just outside the gate they go through. Close enough to hold a hand on the way down, and reach for purchase on the journey back.
Steve swallows hard, and nods at Eddie before he looks away and starts gearing up, twirls his fucking nailbat so it catches the sunlight even thought the metal’s mostly rusted, now and just…Eddie hadn’t needed to say a word. And Steve wanted to send him to safety, the way his throat had bobbed made it real clear there was something heavy he’s held back but: he’d said what he said. He’d laid the line in Eddie’s favor. Eddie wants to hold him, wants to pull him close and feel him breathe, and—
Yeah. Eddie kinda feels like the way it goes is a really good sign for their future as a couple. A couple. Them. Together.
With an always on the other side of all of this that could be kinda fucking magnificent, maybe. Given the chance.
Point being: Eddie gets himself set up with at least a full ambulance’s supplies for first aid, definitely not acquired legally, and a stereo set up he really wishes someone had been kind enough to outfit him with in not-the-apocalypse, holy shit is it gorgeous, but since the strength in his hands is still a work-in-progress, he’s gotta be ready to crank up the noise as a distraction from arm’s-length. It’s actually driving him fucking crazy—or, was; it was, pre-active return to the regularly scheduled world ending—the whole not being able to make music, to translate the noise in his head into sounds on the strings but even that, even that’s been tolerable, survivable because of Steve—who he loves, he gets to love Steve Harrington holy fuck—but Steve’s not just there to be everything and more than the air Eddie goddamn breathes, to become the music just by existing, nope, he one ups that shit: he asked Eddie if it’d be enough to learn the chords he needs. So Eddie could match the words with the notes right, so Steve could be a—
“—kinda piss-poor substitute but,” Steve had shrugged for it with a crooked grin; “but even a bad translator gets a message across, and you’d know when it’s wrong so we can figure out how to fix it and—“
And Eddie’d grabbed Steve’s chin and yanked his mouth close to fucking consume that man like a soul goddamn starved.
“I’d be a shit teacher,” Eddie had mouthed against Steve’s lips after they were sucked well-swollen; “if I still can’t lift the fucking neck for more than a minute,” but Steve had heard none of it, just shot right back:
“You don’t think we’ve beat steeper odds than that?”
And in the face of that raised brow, those red lips parted, that pulse in that neck still a little bit visible like a tease: the fuck was Eddie supposed to do but dive back in and love on the man who’d somehow agreed to be his, and to claim Eddie of all people in turn?
Which is a whole other reason why everything’s gonna be fine: Steve’s gonna make music with him. Steve’s gonna be Eddie’s muse and the vessel for what he inspires. It’s gonna be like Greek fucking poetry, except it’s gonna be them.
So Eddie’s all stocked up, s’got everyone’s floaty-bone-breaky songs queued up on blast for immediate deployment as necessary, and Steve’s the last to go through—he always is, in Eddie’s experience, waits for everyone to be safely accounted for before he spares a thought for himself and it might kill Eddie one day but not fucking today, because it’s gonna be fine—
“Eddie.”
It feels a little like history repeating itself, the way Steve huddles him in a little. Henderson’s through, with Lucas and Hopper and the weird stray Russian, but it’s not like history repeating, because Eddie’s got different words to see him off with; so fucking different.
“Last time I didn’t have,” and Steve reaches, cups Eddie’s cheek, drags down to press on his chest as his voice strains hard: “and it almost killed me,” and Steve usually pinches between his eyes to keep his feelings in check but instead of using his free hand to hold back the tears he reaches for Eddie’s and laces their fingers as his voice cracks and he chokes out:
“Please,” and it’s for everything. For all the almosts from last time; for all the possibilities rife this time. For all the hopes Eddie thinks they share beyond how this shakes out.
“Exceptionally underqualified field med,” Eddie breathes, and squeezes Steve’s hand so, so hard like a promise, because it is; “exceptionally overqualified DJ,” and Steve chuckles, wet but real and it’s enough, because:
“I got it, Stevie,” Eddie bends his forehead to Steve’s to say better than with words that he’s not in this to be a hero, he’ll be right here the whole time, but that doesn’t mean he…that doesn’t mean he can help but to ask this time:
“Just,” and the breath in him punches out unexpectedly as he damn-near begs:
“Only bring me back the little things, yeah? That I know how to fix?”
And they both hear what’s said underneath it:
Don’t turn around and die down there, and kill me in kind..
And—if anyone’s keeping track—they turn out not to need it but: the way the kiss is a wholeass wartime farewell, man.
And then: Eddie waits, and fucks with the speakers for less than an hour before the earth shakes, and his heart drops, but then he hears it.
The fucking whooping of those shitheads echoing through the cracks.
And then he sees it, runs, grabs the first hand that’s clinging to the rope this time and pulls with strength he doesn’t have, is probably more a hindrance than a help but he steadies them each back on the ground and hugs them so tight, kisses more than one of them on the head or the cheek as he doesn’t pretend not to be sobbing through the laughter because they did it, they fucking did it, somehow it’s over and he loves these people and he’s so fucking happy they’re alive and safe and here and—
And the person he loves more, loves most, brings up the rear, a little bloodied, a little scratched up, dingy with the fucking air down there but smiling and Eddie…
Eddie falls into him so fucking hard they both hit the ground and just, just grab onto one another. Just hold and breathe and catch lips every few seconds like an afterthought because they feel each other’s heartbeat where their chests are pressed tight and it’s, they’re…
Steve’s got four broken fingers across both hands. None in a row. He’s basically giving a Vulcan salute by default for how they’re taped.
Eddie loves him so goddamn much it hurts.
And Eddie’d obviously known—once things start to settle in the days that’ve followed—that teaching Steve guitar with those Spock-y hands was on the back burner, but he does ask Steve to sit, and to rest, and to help hum back the tunes in Eddie’s head while Eddie jots lyrics with a hand that’s still shaky but steadying out more every day, and it’s kind of perfect, and Steve adds some things into the melodies either on purpose or by accident but they’re better for it every time and—
Muse and vessel, man. The light of Eddie’s whole goddamn life.
With fucking Vulcan hands still, though, so: excuse Eddie for being…bewildered when his boyfriend—boyfriend, that’s his boyfriend—but his taped-up-healing-Vulcan-handed boyfriend is propping the front door open and lugging in a long, not-recovery-friendly thing that looks close to dropping on his toes and—
“The fuck are you doing?” Eddie asks with a little more panic in his voice than he’d hoped for as he rushes as best he can to where Steve’s kicking the door shut behind him, fluttering his hands around uselessly as Steve maneuvers past him, leans across for a peck at the corner of Eddie’s mouth and calls—“It’s fine, it weighs, like, nothing”—over his shoulder as he settles the, the thing down on the coffee table in the living room they’ve started actually using for, y’know.
Living.
Eddie follows him in, though, because of course, he’s half-a-dog on that man’s heels, whole-caught-in-the-gravity-of-his-everything: but Eddie follows as Steve tosses himself backward with something in his hand, rolls and rucks up his fucking absurd Hawking Middle tee across the sweet curve of his hips, the way the soft give of skin tempts Eddie to run his tongue over the trail of almost-curls, like baby-curls where they lead under the waist of his jeans: Eddie would happily volunteer to survive on the taste of that musky-delicate space until the end of goddamn time—
But then Steve’s huffing a breathless ha from behind a chair where he’d been stretched to reach and a light catches Eddie’s eye from his periphery where he’d been staring unblinking just at Steve: the big long black thing on the coffee table. It takes a genuine concerted effort not to keep at the Steve-staring—not an uncommon state of Eddie’s existence, in all fairness—and check what’s glowing on the table: something turned on. Was plugged in, right, that’s what had Steve rolling on the floor without Eddie on top of or being deliciously pinned down by him.
The something being the big long black thing that Eddie takes in for the whole of it, now: a keyboard.
“Jon picked it up for me second-hand from the place next to Fox Photo when he drove down for his camera, and Rob vouched that it’s a good brand and like, really good condition,” Steve’s raised up on his knees, now with his hands braces on his thighs as Eddie studies the keys, fingers the ends of a every few of the naturals.
“Rob helped with those, too, so I’d know the right, like, chords,” and yeah: they’re stupa of masking tape stuck to the keys with letters in blue, black, and red pen, alternating so they don’t get mixed up, some with and arrow, Eddie assumes, to indicate a sharp.
“I only remember like half of one song from when my parents thought it would look good to have me take piano lessons,” Steve huffs in whole-ass judgment; “my mom wanted the endorsement of the guy who was stepping down from city council, and his wife taught private lessons, so, y’know,” Steve rolls his eyes; “super convenient leading up to the election.”
“What song?”
Steve blinks, tips his head in askance for what Eddie recognizes very clearly as something closer to a croak than a question, his throat all tight. He tries to cough, to clear it.
“What song do you remember?”
Steve snorts at that, leans back on his palms, and fuck is he beautiful.
“Clair de Lune,” Steve grins crooked; “the one song I was allowed to pick, instead of just being assigned.”
“Why’d you pick it?” Not that Eddie doesn’t like it or anything. It’s more that…he knew Steve could more than just drum fingers on keys, if only just, and that a baby grand used to sit in the corner where there’s a stereo cabinet now, but.
But: see, there’s like a whole half of his heart that’s dedicated to collecting new knowledge about everything Steve: his favorite food when he was 12 versus the now. How his favorite color became his favorite color. The story behind all the polos. The nitty-gritties about why he’s in a big-ass house alone for approximately 360 days a year, and how long it’s been that way. Eddie’s whole heart is basically Steve’s but every day that half overflows a little, and Eddie’s only keeping it relegated to parts filled with Steve-lore so he can feel the collection break containment every other day, this grand and joyous bursting under his ribs as everything spills over again, and again, and again until it’s all just Steve, and his heart has to burst or stretch, or both.
Eddie thinks both will be amazing.
And right now, in the interest of building toward that amazing-both: he wants to know why Debussy.
Steve chuckles to himself—better music than any dead French guy by a country mile—and eyes Eddie almost slyly.
“Do you remember Claire Reynolds?”
Vaguely. Like, very vaguely. He remembers…uneven pigtails. Very actual-cult-like vibes about her family as a vague impression and now that he’s bringing it to mind he feels a new wave of indignation: those Children-of-the-Corn motherfuckers were just fine but Eddie liked a board game and he was probably a murderer.
“When we were in like, first grade,” Steve’s continuing on; “she asked me every, single, day, to come over and see her sheep.” Steve looks up at Eddie and bites his lower lip, lets his gaze dance and lets Eddie fall into it for a few dazed seconds before he spells it out.
“She had these crazy eyes about it, it was kinda unsettling,” Steve nudges, but Eddie’s doesn’t get it until:
“And it’s not like I do now, because obviously I don’t, but I definitely didn’t speak a lick of French when I was eight.”
It takes Eddie a hot second before he snorts hard enough to hurt:
Claire, da Loon.
“I was eight,” Steve protests Eddie’s laughter halfheartedly even as he joins in, reaches to slap at Eddie’s upper arm which honestly: just makes him laugh harder.
“Anyway,” Steve fights through the last of the chuckling as it peters out between them, drags himself to sitting next to the coffee table and taps his hand to the top of the keyboard.
“I know it’s not the same as learning guitar to help, and I can probably only get the top and bottom notes with these,” he lifts his Vulcan-fingers his a shrug; “but I was hoping that’d be better than nothing?”
And, like, how Eddie was talking about his heart having to swell, for all the things he gets to tuck inside of it that come with loving Steve Harrington?
He might crack a rib, just now, because—
“This is for me?”
Steve purses his lips, lifts a brow:
“Well, technically it’s for me,” steve singles his fingers, which looks absurd with the splints; “but yeah. To help you get the songs out. I mean, once these are free again, you can help me with the guitar like we talked about, until you’re—“
And Eddie cannot be blamed, see: he cannot be fucking blamed for tackling Steve to the floor and kissing him hard enough to bruise because…
“You got hurt,” Eddie half-breathes between kisses; “you got hurt and I was so afraid I was gonna lose you,” and Eddie reaches for those taped fingers and kisses them, too: so gentle and Steve’s expression softens so quick:
“I was scared, too,” he whispers between them, cups Eddie’s face with his unloaded hand; “you were as safe as I could make you within the fucking city limits but I was still so goddamn scared.”
Cue more rib-cracking for the heart-swelling, because Jesus fucking Christ.
“And you,” Eddie exhales, slow and shaky; “you’re hurt, but you went and got,” he nods to the keyboard;
“I know it’s not ideal,” Steve’s quick to, to what, apologize? For being insane and perfect and—
“Shut up,” Eddie says, voice low and watery and he’s still kissing at Steve’s fingers, holding his wrist delicate but also like a lifeline.
“You’re hurt,” Eddie maybe kinda moans it because he hates it, as much as he’s so fucking grateful that’s it’s just this, no worse than this; “and you still—”
“I promised, didn’t I?”
And that…that’s one thing Eddie’s learned beyond reproach; that even to his detriment, Steve keeps his goddamn promises.
And he’d promised to help Eddie get his words out, to place the lyrics to the notes and help unclutter his brain so he didn’t lose his mind.
Holy fucking hell.
“Steve,” Eddie starts, shakes his head, needs to find the right words. “You’re alive,” the most important thing. “You are healing,” another most important thing, for Eddie to oversee and make sure of, even as Steve keeps an eye on the last lingering threads of the long haul on Eddie’s road to recovery in kind, his beloved mother hen.
“This is,” and he runs his fingers too light to draw sounds across the keys, hopes he sounds as awed and grateful as he feels; “but you, you’ve gotta test, you have to,” and Eddie shakes his head and lifts his eyes to just fucking ask it:
“Why?”
And Steve: Steve just studies his face for a few seconds, reads what he needs before he smiles kinda exasperated, mostly fond and answers so simply, while also breaking a few more of Eddie’s ribs when he just says:
“Because I love you.”
And Eddie’s heart’s not so overfull yet of all of Steve, it’s not fair that it just bursts right then and there, Eddie propelled into Steve’s arms to kiss him deep this time, like he’s searching out Steve’s soul to taste and maybe he is, save that he needs his heart to not have exploded for feeling if he’s going to keep the memory of it safe in his chest for always, he needs to patch his heart back up first but he’s too distracted, too drowned in the way love actually fucking feels, fucking shifts his cells around and makes a new version of him, lets his heart grow bigger except it went and blasted apart with the unprecedented immensity of loving and—
And then Eddie’s got Steve’s taped up hands on both his cheeks, and he remembers that night, in the shower, where Steve ripped the seams from his shirt so taking it off wouldn’t hurt him; notices how Steve is wearing that same fucking shirt in this very moment, all in one piece, like it never split apart in the first place.
Master seamstress, tried and tested and true; truer than anything.
So Eddie just dives back in and kisses with everything in him, thinks maybe when Steve tastes the pieces of Eddie’s blowout heart under his tongue while Eddie goes diving for the sweet lick of Steve’s soul:
Eddie thinks Steve’s mouth might know how to stitch up torn things, too. Especially the kinds that are ripped at their seams wholly for the sake of loving that fucking hard.
✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson
divider credits here & here
👾 title credit here
💫 ao3 link here
#steddie#eddie munson#steve harrington#hurt/comfort#whump#fluff#happy ending#angst with a happy ending#soft#pining#slow burn#(ish)#steddie fic#deep devoted caretaker steve#smitten recovering post S4 eddie#sharing a bed#sleeping together#not like THAT#HE'S RECOVERING OKAY#nightmares#though maybe it IS time to address the...crush-confession-dick-grazing-shower-thing#like: just MAYBE#love confessions#domestic fluff#5+1 things#stranger things#gift fic#penny00dreadful
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Donation Found 2!
It took a little while longer than expected, but we finally found an appropriate donor for Brick! Brick was in desperate need of a donation. As the owner of a high quality gym and something of a fitness influencer, he was catching a lot of shit for not showing any empathy to his clientele or, in general, people who weren't in peak condition.
Maybe that's what scared some donors off, the sheer ego of having to maintain a physique like Brick's. But, by God, he paid the $325,000 to get his new body. Did he read the contract? No. But he insisted the customer is always right and he demanded action from the team at Turnaround Technologies.
Not that he could help how he looked, he was always athletic as a kid. Football, wrestling, water polo, gymnastics. He hit the weights hard as soon as high school started. And now he's a fitness enthusiast's wet dream. Let's remind everyone where Brick is starting this journey:
But thankfully we were able to find someone who fit the bill for Brick. This is someone who has the ego, the drive, and... honestly, a lot of the same toxic masculinity that Brick has. Just in a different form. So honestly it's a perfect match. Which we were relieved to find. After all, Brick doesn't fully understand the permanence of this yet. So let's take a look at our donor plate:
Meet Lemmy Chungus. A man who is almost permanently online, a moderator for the r/gayincel subreddit, a prolific user of 4chan, and a man with a subscription to 12 OnlyFans pages and PornHub Premium. He has an interesting take on why this exchange should work.
Donor Statement: This world has winners and losers. I am naturally born to be a dominant male, and it's becoming clear to me that Brick doesn't understand the role he is supposed to have. It's not fair that some buff fuckboy was deprived of the body he needs to match his true, inner self. It's obvious he wants this, so let's seal the deal and make this exhange.
I have to admit, we hear at Turnaround hadn't thought about it like that, adjusting two men into their, perhaps, more honest selves. It really is a public service. Both subjects are being stripped down, injected with serum, and placed in their uniforms as our technicians prepare the chambers.
Just prior to taking Brick's final "before" photo, he was informed that the contract had been signed, this medicine injected, and that his fate was sealed. Of course, we expected him to fight us a bit when told it was one way, one trip per lifetime, and permanent. Instead we were shocked that the young man started to cry.
Patient Statement: What do you mean permanent? What do you mean *sniff* 'new lot in life'? I don't understand why you're taking my designer underwear. I'll never wear it again? Wh-why not? I'll be fit again! What do you mean role adjustment? Huh? I dunno what a gaycel is. I don't spend a lot of time on the Internet. Whadda ya mean that's gonna be most of what I do now? *Sniffsob* I'm still an alpha. I *sniff* wanna change my mind. I don't understand. This body isn't legally mine anymore? I'm *sniff* I'll be a good boy, please!
So docile! He's really sliding into his new role quite well, and we're all very pleased. Brick was injected again when he saw the donor body, and his eyes almost went cross from shock. There will be a stiff financial penalty for requiring several staff members dragging his muscular body to the chamber.
The process was a difficult one. As the waves started to swing back and forth, Brick was grabbing his dick and squeezing his own pectorals as if to hold onto them. The beams and serums and molecule destabilization took days. It's like his body didn't want to assume a new role. But we held out hope that eventually the assault of our technology and pharmacology would win out and he would be shoved, unalterably, into his new body. So I'm happy to report the following:
As you can see, both men are now secured in their new bodies, roles, and lifestyles.
Patient Report: Ohhh God. It's hard to move, it's hard to move. I heard some fat guys had power, but he's... got none. I have none. Oh fuck. I'll get back in the gym and... look at him. What a slut, strutting around in that thong with a muscled up ass. Like he's some hotshot. He's not! Why does it make me so angry???
Donor Report: Chances are there a lot of other losers out there who have hot, buff bodies. Cute faces. Huge dicks. Guys who look like they should be on top, but know they're a beta bitch at heart. Stop being selfish. Ask for a donation today and let the real alphas assume their natural position.
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With Kotoko getting the guilty verdict, I have seen some people speculating about this so I wanted to make a poll (it has probably been done before but please indulge me)
My own thoughts for each character under the cut
So, this is a little complicated. I would like to start by saying I find it very unlikely for her to come out of this unscathed. Could happen, but I feel like for narrative purposes they would want her to be hurt in some capacity. It could just be the psychological strain the voices will have on her but again, I don't think she will be "fine". Now for the characters and possible arguments.
Fuuta
This one is hard. If you know Fuuta well, you know he doesn't actually like violence. Far from it, he is the kind of person who avoids it and is terrified of it. While his words come off as brash and aggressive that's usually all he has. However we have seen he WILL resort to it as a desperate effort, either to try and help someone or out of anger, to try to show he is not weak.
The impression Fuuta has given me is that he is, well, afraid of Kotoko to put it simply. And while he shows very clearly his dislike for her and what she did to him he seems to have mitigated most of that anger towards Es since at the end of the day the judgment was up to them. Would an innocent verdict lead him to believe he is now in the right to hurt her back? In my opinion, unlikely. By voting Kotoko guilty and him innocent this trial we have, in a way, admitted our mistake to him. Fuuta has felt immense guilt for what he has done from the start, at the end of his second voice drama he was begging for our forgiveness. And we gave it to him. I think it would be counterintuitive for him to then go and attack Kotoko after this. I would like to believe that he has learned his lesson in a sense.
However, we must keep in mind what I stated earlier. Fuuta CAN be violent and will resort to it, especially when he feels like he has something to prove or is backed into a corner, usually on an impulse. So maybe given the right conditions he could lash out against her. However that would depend way more on her attitude towards the others than anything else.
Lastly, and I think this is what makes his case complicated is the possibility of him being influenced by Amane and her religion. As we know, revenge and punishment are very present in Amane's cult values and with Fuuta seeming more and more indoctrinated each day, I am starting to wonder if those could have any influence on his actions, leading him to actually take revenge.
However, from the last 2 timelines he sounds very tired with the way he’s speaking, exhausted even, from both the psychological toll of everything plus the constant physical pain. He also went to both Mahiru and Haruka in an attempt to try and help them though one mistook it for just nice words and the other refused his help to which, due to his exhaustion, he quickly gave up and brushed it off. So I wouldn’t say he’d have the strength and energy to try something against Kotoko even if the cult “punishment” ideals got into his head. Considering he lashes out when he feels cornered I think he’d only feel the need to if Kotoko, somehow, was still a danger towards him and the others. And still, I don’t think he would be able to do much damage since he is canonically the weakest of the guys (and Kotoko) in terms of strength.
Shidou
This one seems to be based a lot on Triage's lyrics of "To extract that fang'' and Shidou's and Kotoko's very apparent animosity for each other. Having said that, do I think Shidou could attack her? No... not really. First I think those lyrics are referencing his attempts to help the ones Kotoko hurt, to reverse the damage she did. And while I find his innocent percentage to be very worrying I don't think it will be manifested that way. If anything, Shidou has Kotoko to thank for giving him a purpose and reason to live (even when he dislikes her). Not to mention how violence is... simply not his style. Shidou has said it himself. And while he can be "cold" I don't think he would just go and attack Kotoko. Especially when he will have bigger issues to worry about in the form of a certain child.
Now, what I can see him doing is something more in the case if Kotoko were to get hurt by other means. He could deny her treatment and/or make sure she doesn't recover from her wounds. But again I don't really think he would do it. Shidou currently attributes his life purpose to saving the lives in front of him and we encouraged this mindset with his innocent verdict. I don't think he would want to lose a chance to be useful, even if that patient was someone he despised.
John
Alright this one I have very specific thoughts on. (Mikoto fans, you are free to tell me I am wrong.) First, I know John isn't stupid. He values Mikoto's well-being above everything else, which was made very clear. He would NOT risk him getting another guilty verdict by attacking another prisoner, right? Maybe. Listen, I think this one is complicated and depends a lot on what Kotoko will do.
I don't think John would go out of his way to attack Kotoko. After all, we have given Mikoto the innocent verdict, he will be (I hope) way less stressed, giving John less reasons to front. With Kotoko being restrained due to her guilty she would also be less of a threat to Mikoto. However if something were to happen... If Kotoko were to get free and try to attack someone in a fit of rage over her verdict... Well, we know who is the person she currently despises the most. We also know John and Kotoko are tied in terms of strength but with Kotoko being impaired from the guilty verdict it's very obvious who would have the upper hand.
And here is the thing: if Kotoko were fighting someone like Kazui, I am sure he would stop her, but in a way that didn't cause her any further harm. Would John also do that? Or would John feel the need to make sure Kotoko couldn't be a threat to Mikoto anymore? After all, we seem to be on his side, we considered Kotoko guilty for her actions. Wouldn't John feel justified enough to do this, especially with Kotoko being the one to attack first? I don't know, I just fear something will happen with Mikoto. There is a reason 09 and 10 were added later, that being to provide more "drama" to the narrative. There is also this line from John on a tl saying he would "beat Kotoko at her own game" but I... really don't want to dwell on the implications of that. Especially because I do believe John is very genuine in his care for Mikoto. I mean cmon you guys have seen Double and listened to Neoplasm!
Kotoko
Well I don't really have much to say here. We know how self destructive she is, we have seen how much she disregards her own emotions and her own pain. We have seen how much she actually hates herself. I wouldn't put it past her. Maybe not in a "I am guilty so I guess I'll hurt myself" way but more out of resignation and anger with her whole situation or even by making stupid decisions. For example, I don't think at this point she would fight back much if someone were to try and hurt her. I really don't have much more to say about this, it's Kotoko Yuzuriha.
Don't have much on the other prisoners, maybe in very specific conditions??? No clue, Yamanaka might surprise us who knows.
So what is my conclusion? The most likely case to me is that Kotoko hurts herself either directly or by making a very stupid decision like attacking someone she shouldn't.
What about you?
#sorry if some of this doesn't make sense I started well and then got a massive headache so couldn't even proof read#kotoko yuzuriha#fuuta kajiyama#shidou kirisaki#john milgram#milgram
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𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐭. - lyra x grayson
req from @lyrakanefanatic
-.-
Grayson Hawthorne had been stood outside his phone girls room for the better part of half an hour, he had no idea whether or not she was in there but he needed to tell her…
Grayson wasn’t what you would call a drunk, that was Jamesons job, but after a long week of game mastering or whatever, he needed it. So there he was, pacing outside lyras room, knowing what he was about to do was a very bad idea.
Grayson knocked.
A very confused Lyra Kane opened the door. “Gamemaster?” She tilted her head to the side, “why are you here.” Grayson stumbled towards her, “y-your here.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “Of course I’d be here, this is my room.” Lyra raised an eyebrow. Grayson pushed past her, stumbling into her room and threw himself onto her bed. “Oh you’re fucking wasted..” Lyra walked towards him, “Grayson, listen.” Grayson did not listen, “l-ly-ra I ha- important-t to tellll yo-.” Lyra pushed a pillow behind his head, “okay Grayson you have something important to tell me, I’m gonna go get you some water, you stay here.”
Lyra was gone for about a minute before she came back with a glass and a pitcher full of ice water. “Drink this.” She shoved the glass in his face. “Y-ou s-so beauuu-tiful” Grayson attempted to give her a kiss on the cheek. Lyra pushed him away, “That wasn’t very professional of you was it mr game master?” Grayson shook his head, “no.” Lyra giggled, “come on, drink up Hawthorne boy.” Grayson sipped his water, he had to tell her soon.
Once Grayson had sobered up a little, he decided it was now, or never. “Lyra, do you remember that thing I wanted to tell you,” Grayson looked up at her. “You’re still on that?” She asked, putting her phone down to look at him. “Yeah um- I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while, and I guess im only telling you now because I’m drunk out of my mind, I’m in love with you. The games ending soon and I’m scared for you to leave me, you make me feel like something, I am so so in love with you Lyra Kane.” Grayson took a shaky breath and waited for her reaction.”
“g-grayson, I can’t- we can’t Grayson, it’s not-“ Lyra shook her head, “what am I doing, you’re wasted, you don’t mean any of that.” She muttered. “I do.” Grayson sat up. “I do mean it Lyra, I mean all of it.” Lyra kept shaking her head, “no- no you don’t.” Grayson rested his hand on her shoulder, “Lyra, please- i love you.”
When Lyra looked back at him she had tears in her eyes. “Are you serious?” Grayson nodded, but before he could reply, Lyra grabbed his blazer and kissed him. Grayson lifted his hands to her face and kissed her back, they had kissed before, but never like this. Grayson pulled away, “Lyra, love, I would kiss you again, but I think I’m going to be sick” Lyra laughed in his face and kissed his cheek.
“ok, let’s get you into bed before you vomit all over your suit, Hawthorne boy.”
-.-
I hope you like it xx i love them so much and writing for them so this was so amazing to write for you 😚
#the inheritance games#grayson hawthorne#book writing#lyra x grayson#lyra kane#the hawthorne legacy#the final gambit#the brothers hawthorne#the hawthorne brothers#the grandest game#grayson x phone girl
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* The heart is not meant to rule *
Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader
Slow burn, knife kink, blood kink, strangers to lovers, softer!Feyd-Rautha, CONSENT, 18+, arranged marriage, assassination, poison, murder, etc
Previous Chapter - Resurrection
Current Chapter - Never lose me
***
It had been a few days after Feyd left to go back to Giedi Prime, wedding preparations he said. He didn’t leave you much time to bond after the kiss, nor did he have need for a conversation about feelings. You attribute it to his upbringing, assuming Harkonnen don’t talk about their feelings at all. So, you stow away yours for now.
*
Feyd wanted to make haste, he wanted nothing more than to stay on Caladan and ravish you before the wedding, but he also respected his duty and the rules involved with an arranged marriage. Should he break those rules, he wouldn’t be able to marry you. Intercourse before marriage wasn’t frowned upon, it was downright illegal. He had to put a distance between the both of you before his feelings could settle in the pit of his stomach and he lost all control.
*
A few weeks pass while Feyd is busy sorting out all the legal business, talking to servants to import certain items from Caladan, and even requesting an answer from you concerning your wedding dress and the sort. You receive the message during a sparring match with Duncan, who has been training you extra hard upon hearing the news that you were going through with the marriage.
He sees your face contort after a member of the staff gives you the message and asks what you want to respond with. It felt so, indifferent and impersonal, a message as black and white coming from Feyd, no love to be found, no greetings, just a demand. You frown as you respond to the messenger and turn back to Duncan, sighing.
He stays silent for a few moments, until the messenger leaves.
“I know it is not my place Lady, but do you mind if I give you any advice?” he sounded sincere and worried.
You nod at him, curious.
“Please don’t marry Feyd. I know it might seem like a good idea, if we’re speaking about bloodlines and dukes and barons, but… you should be with someone who loves and respects you.”
He got closer to you as he spoke those last words, his hair partially stuck to his face because of the sweat of battle. He extended his hand for you to take, and you did. Feeling anything at all was better than the dryness that got stuck in your throat when you received Feyd’s ‘demand’.
“Duncan, I-…” you trailed off.
You didn’t want to admit that you liked Feyd, it wasn’t love yet, but there was a certain attraction between the both of you. You wanted to explore this, even if it meant being married for a different cause. You just felt insecure after he left so fast, seemingly taking all the sweetness away from the moment you shared before.
Duncan pulled you into a hug, somehow knowing exactly what would help at this point. You felt his heart beat fast, faster than usual. He gave you a kiss on the forehead and continued to talk.
“Feyd has no idea how lucky he is. Should he ever try to hurt you again, I will intervene.”
He lets you out of the hug and takes your hands in his and goes onto one knee.
“If you ever feel doubt know that I’ll be here for you. I love you, Lady Atreides.”
He says as he kisses your hand. The confession feels heavy but sincere. You had no idea Duncan felt like this, you had always just assumed he was a man with his heart on his sleeve, loving all the Atreides family, because he had just always been there for you all. But a proposal?
“Oh, Duncan, I-“ you say as you feel a tear starting to roll over your cheek.
He comes back up and cups your face in his hands, wipes away your tears and kisses your forehead, and returns to hugging you. You softly sob as the heat of the older man gives you the comfort that you needed.
“I know.”
*
Feyd is struggling to get everything sorted, there’s a lot more shouting and killing of servants going on right now. He wants the wedding to be utter perfection, no place for errors, this includes everything you should bring or prepare. He shouts at a servant to ask about your wedding dress, and to make it quick. This explains why the message sounded so cold and demanding when you received it. The Harkonnen were anything but subtle with words.
He had been in and out of meetings concerning the festivities and he was about one more question away of killing another servant. He hated this, hated that he had to do everything, make all the choices, he should’ve just asked you to come along, but rules forbid. Curse the rules, he thought.
For an arranged marriage the people involved wouldn’t be allowed to see each other for a month before the marriage, this is to allow both families to prepare everything and make sure that the couple still wanted to get married. Also to get all the political things in order, most of all.
Feyd had 5 minutes of peace before he had a meeting with yet another person involved with the wedding. He was staring out at the arena and somehow missed simpler times like that. His momentarily peace got disrupted, however. A servant asked for his attention, it was Tula. Feyd knew how fond you were of her, so he promised himself that he wouldn’t hurt her. She was however, testing his patience at the moment.
“My Lord Na-Baron, I have a message for you, from Lady Atreides,” she spoke quietly.
Feyd shot up and took the message out of her hands, read it and a frown came over his face. Your reply was very formal, much the same as his question, or demand, felt to you. Yet he didn’t expect it to be so… dry. He looked up at Tula for a second, almost questioning her why your message didn’t sound nicer. He thought he knew you a bit more than that at least.
“My lord? Are you ok?” Tula questioned, seeing his face contort in several ways.
“Fine,” his voice all gravely, he even sounded tired.
Tula started to walk away but then suddenly came to a stop. She considered the sentence she had on the tip of her tongue before finally saying it. As she turned back, Feyd looked up at her.
“My lord, … I have also received more information about Lady Atreides.” Her eyes trailed off, suddenly aware of the stare Feyd was giving her.
“Speak.” He spit out.
“… it appears that Lady Atreides has received a counteroffer for marriage, from Duncan Idaho.”
Feyd’s eyes narrowed into slits. Unaware of his next action, Tula wanted to make sure she would live after giving him the bad news, so she continued.
“Lady Atreides has declined his offer however,” she had no proof, but she also felt like you wouldn’t just bail on everything that had happened between you and Feyd.
She assumed you would say no to Duncan, considering the position you were in. A wild bet, to save her own life.
“Is that so…” he trailed off, started to stalk around Tula.
He took out his dagger and started to play with it, she feared for her life.
“It seems like I will have to teach Duncan some manners in the future.” He looked at Tula and then his dagger.
He reminded himself that the time would come where he got his revenge on Duncan and sheathed his dagger again. Tula almost sighed in relief.
“Send a message to Lady Atreides, tell her I look forward to making her mine soon.”
The implications where there, both innuendo and not, and Tula made sure she left as soon as she could.
*
When you receive the message, you’ve just finished bathing and are in a comfortable robe, hanging out on your bed. The staff member leaves the message in your hands and lets you be for the night. As you start to read the message you realise it’s from Tula. She tells you Feyd found out about the proposal from Duncan and wasn’t happy about it. She also conveys his own personal message to you.
“Make me his? Who does he think he is!”, you talk to yourself.
The way he talks to you ever since he left was very different from how he was on Caladan. No softness anymore, the Harkonnen in him had returned. You were sure that planet had something to do with it, Caladan was far more relaxed than Giedi Prime was. You decide not to answer him, it was only a few more days before you travelled to the planet yourself, so a response could wait.
You wonder if Duncan’s proposal had something to do with how cold he sounded in the message. You assumed it did, you didn’t see Feyd as an insecure person, but knowing how close you and Duncan were, anything could happen. You just hope Feyd doesn’t go ham on him and kill him. You fear that will be the only outcome, however.
You didn’t want to admit it, but you missed Feyd. It made you insecure to not have him around you. What was he doing right now? Did he also miss you? All these questions came floating to the surface as you kept thinking about him, and his hands, and his lips. And how strong he felt when he was holding you close, how his hands moved to your lower back and your legs, how his hot breath felt on you in the damp wet grass.
You instinctively open your robe thinking about him and start to touch yourself. You wanted nothing more but to feel him all over you, feel his hot mouth on your entrance. You imagine that your hands, are his, as you circle your clit. You insert two fingers and start to pump, cupping your breast in the other hand. You felt his erection as you sat on top of him, panting, and you think about how big he was, how he would stretch you, how he would make you his.
His cold words from the message now circle in your head, as you imagine him saying them out loud, whispering them in your ear from behind you, as he’s taking you. You come hard, thinking about him enveloping you, not stopping until you’re completely ripped at the seams. You imagine him holding you after, kissing you and whispering sweet nothings in your ear, as you drift to sleep.
*
Feyd is having another night, however. His insecurity takes hold of him the night before your arrival. You hadn’t replied to his last message from a few days ago and he imagines you might just give up on the entire wedding, and so, give up on him. He keeps thinking about how he can convince you to marry him, what he would do to Duncan should he ever see the man again, and his anger boils inside of him.
He has thrashed his room already, broke a few chairs and killed a few servants, but nothing seems to help. A servant reminds him of the box they took with them from Caladan and he remembers the rose oil he took from his chambers. The servants draw a bath for him, with water, and put the rose oil in it. As soon as he enters the bathing area he relaxes. It feels like you are in there with him, soothing his fears and feelings, and calming him down.
He's not one to let his guard fall, but he drifts off into a soft sleep while he lay there. He dreams of you, in the damp grass, on top of him, under him, in any way he wants because it’s his imagination. He reassures himself that all will be fine once you’re here. He wakes and gets himself cleaned off. Before he goes to bed, he sprinkles some oil on his bed sheets, so that he would at least feel as if you were with him that night.
*
You travel to Giedi Prime on the day before your wedding. The rest of house Atreides would arrive later today. As you arrive you are greeted by a few servants, and you react with glee once you see Tula. You hug her and forget the differences in culture for a while before letting her go and straightening yourself. She has a soft smile on her face, however.
“Let me show you to your chambers, Lady Atreides.”
She walks in front of you as the other servants with your bags follow suit. As she ushers you into the room and your bags are in it, she closes the door and turns herself to you.
“My Lady Atreides, I fear I have a confession to make.” She looks strained.
You take her hands in yours, and you ushed her to sit down on the bed. “What is it, Tula?”
She shifts her eyes up at you, guilty for some reason.
“I was the one who told Feyd about the proposal from Duncan. I wanted him to hear from me, because I was afraid he might hurt you, should you have told him. I’d rather he hurt me, than you.”
You’re somewhat shocked but not for the reason Tula might think. She risked her life for you, knowing Feyd, he probably did end up hurting her.
“Did he hurt you?” you look at her, worried.
“N-No, he did not actually. He only mentioned that he would have to punish Duncan, that’s it.”
You sigh, happy. But you’re also surprised he didn’t lash out at her. A mere servant in his eyes, what would be one more or less. Maybe Feyd was more perceptive than you thought.
“Tula, you did nothing wrong. You were loyal to your Na-Baron. I understand. I think Feyd will notice that I declined the offer if he sees me in a wedding dress tomorrow, we’ll be fine.”
You notice she had some tears forming in her eyes, so you decide to hug her, and she lets it all out.
“I hope he deserves you, Lady Atreides.” She tells you in between sobs.
It was the sweetest thing any servant had ever told you. You hope he still wants you as something more than a political pawn. Insecurity creeps back in as you prepare to go to bed before the big day. You wonder if he has any interest in you anymore as you drift off to sleep, worried and anxious.
#feyd#feyd rautha harkonnen#feyd x you#feyd x reader#feyd rautha#feyd smut#house harkonnen#dune#dune fanfiction#dune part 2#dune 2#dune part two#dune movie#the heart is not meant to rule
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LONG HOT SUMMER
Folio x Reader
Summer in the South is too much for some of them, but not for the two if you. In the middle of the tour, he finds a place that reminds him of you and takes you there. He just wanted you to know that he thinks about you, but fate had other plans. What was supposed to be quick and simple turns into hot, deep, and sensual
Authors Note: Sequel in the works
TAGS: @embracethereaper42, @foliosgirl, @broken0mens, @pathion, @embracethereaper42
It was so freaking hot you swear you could fry an egg on concrete. You don't mind it, the muggy humid heat of Louisiana being something you grew up in as a kid. Your Grandparents used to live here and you and your brother would spend almost every long hot summer with them. So it was something you could handle. But this band; absolutely not. Their northern nature made them divas when it came to the heat and never, in your life, have you heard so much complaining and whining from a bunch of guys as you have in the last seventy-two hours. It was so bad you wanted to glue your earbuds in just to get a few minutes of peace and quiet.
The only one who seemed to handle it as well as you was Folio, and that’s because he has what your granddad used to call “fisherman’s skin” ; special skin that allows them to adapt to any climate. You knew he wasn’t serious, but now that you think about it, maybe he was right. The memory makes you smile as you enter the tour bus. Nicholas is the only one here, sprawled out on the couch in only a pair of shorts. “It’s too hot, Y/N.” The corners of your mouth lift at his confession. “You’re a diva, Nick.” He chuckles. “I am when it comes to this freaking heat. I’ll take Virginia weather any day over this shit.”
Shaking your head, you move towards the bunks, yours specifically, and dig into your duffle bag in search of a new shirt to change into. You settle for the dark green tank and quickly change, feeling refreshed once you're done. After a few sprays of your favorite body spray you turn around and walk right into Noah’s chest, throwing your hand over your mouth to stifle your scream.
“Fucking hell, Noah! Seriously!” Playfully, you slap him in the stomach and push him out of the way. “It’s not my fault you’re blind.” Your eyes widen. “I didn’t even hear you!” “Okay, well then deaf, too.” “Eat shit, Noah.” “Fuck you, Princess.” You narrow your eyes in a scowl. You hate when Noah calls you that. “I’ve been trying too, but she won't let me,” Folio says, coming up behind you and grabbing you by the hips. He plants a quick kiss on the side of your neck, making your heart skip a beat. The idea of you and Folio together has always made your stomach flutter. He’s been your crush ever since your brother introduced you to him years ago and no other guy has ever compared to him. You thought by now you would’ve told him how you felt, but since he’s never said how he feels about you, you’ve kept your feelings to yourself. Others have told you it’s obvious how Folio feels, but you aren’t one to just assume because of how he acts. Folio has always been a fun, playful kind of guy, and reading the signs wrong would be an utter embarrassment for you.
He kisses the side of your head, and tickles your sides, making you squeal and you elbow him in the stomach. He keels over pretending to be hurt. “Y/N, baby, please,” Folio begs, falling to the floor while clutching his stomach. “Fuck, you hurt me,” he complains, trying to hid his smile. You cross your arms as you hover over him. “Sucks for you,” you tease. He sticks his bottom out, pretending to pout, and lowers his head. That’s when the long tattooed arms snake around you, trapping you tightly against the body they belong to, and you know you’re in trouble. “Hmmm, my little bug is caught in a trap,” Noah whispers in your ear. “Let go of me Noah, or I'll kick you where it hurts most.” Your aggressive attempt makes Noah smile and he chuckles while locking one of his legs around yours. All, if any, advantages you have on him are officially gone now. “I'd like to see you try, Princess.” You growl in frustration. “Stop calling me that! You know I hate it.” Noah laughs again. “I don’t have anything else to call you! Unless you want me to call you a pigeon, or maybe piglet.” You grunt and try to break away. “Or how about little fox or maybe little fluffy bunny? Fluffy bunny! There it is!” Growling, you slam your foot down on top of Noah’s, hoping it will make him let you go, but it does absolutely nothing except make him laugh more.
After a few more worthless attempts to break free, you know you’re not going to win this game so you go limp, letting yourself become dead weight in Noah’s arms. “Uh, Folio, I think I broke your girl,” he says and you smile at Noah’s choice words. Folio grabs his sunglasses that fell and instantly jumps to his feet and comes to your rescue. ”You break my girl, I’ll break your face,” he asserts as Noah brings you back to your feet. You catch Folio’s reference about you and it leaves you wondering. His smile is so infectious though as it spreads across his face and you can’t help but smile back. “You're lucky today, Princess,” Noah smirks, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead before letting you go. “You’re still a jerk,” you say with a grin. “You’re still a bitch,” he replies, poking you in the belly. Not everyone is lucky enough to get Noah's playful side, but you are. That says a lot.
“Come with me,” Nick says softly in your ear, bringing you back to reality. He slides his sunglasses on and takes your hand and leads you down the steps of the bus. The hot, humid air hits you the second you step outside, making the first outside breath difficult.
“Wait, hold up, where are you two going?” Matt questions. My eyes shift from Folio to Matt. “There’s something I want to show Y/N. It's not far.” Matt’s eyes bounce over the two of you then narrow. “Just for a few minutes Matt. We’ll be right back and then we can leave.” Matt smiles. “If I were you Y/N, I'd be worried if he makes it last only a few minutes.” You snicker, holding your hand over your mouth and turning away from Matt’s gaze. “Oh my god, will you quit already, we're not sleeping together,” Folio states. Your cheeks are red and Jolly notices. “Then why is Y/N blushing like that?” Folio turns and looks at you, grinning at the sight of your very red cheeks. He knows how easily embarrassed you can get sometimes, but it’s one thing he really loves about you. It gives him a reason to get protective. Jolly is laughing, but you can’t even look him in the face. “I’m just playing Y/N.” He detects the embarrassment in you and pulls you in for a hug. You wrap your arms around his waist as he lays a kiss on the top of your head. “Alright, can we go now,” Folio pleads with eagerness in his voice. It has you wondering what could possibly be so important.
“Fine, twenty minutes. Don’t be late or we’re leaving both your asses,” Matt forewarns us, climbing up into the bus after Jolly. You and Nick both laugh.“No you won’t, Matt. You need us too much.” You tug on Folio’s arm, and he gets the hint, leading you further away from the bus.“Don't you hurt my little sister, Folio. I will fuck you up,” Matt yells behind you.
“Will you please slow down!” you giggle, trying your best to keep up with Nick as he pulls you through the woods, practically running. “I can’t. We only have twenty minutes; less now. I want to make sure you have enough time to enjoy it.” “Enjoy what,” huffing a laugh. He doesn't answer, so you stop suddenly, letting your hand slip out of Nick’s. A loud clap of thunder rattles the sky as he turns to you, noticing the enigmatic look in your eyes, “What?”
You can’t see his eyes because of how dark his glasses are, but you know he’s staring at you, drinking you in like water. You don't know if it's the thunder or the sound of your heart that's so loud but when he closes the gap that separates your body from his, running his calloused fingers down your cheek and his thumb over your lips, you sigh, knowing it's definitely your heart. Fidgeting with your fingers, your knees want to buckle, but you try your hardest to keep your composure. Something is very different about the way Folio is acting around you and it should make you question his intention, but you don’t. You welcome it instead, like the thunderstorm coming you know is coming, with open arms.
As you gaze at him, barely able to breath, you let your eyes wander over his face, taking in the little things about him that make him so irresistible to you, stopping at his lips. Their shape is perfect, matching the rest of his facial features perfectly, but the fullness of them, how perfect the bottom one is for nipping and biting, even sucking when the intensity of the things you would let him do to you gets to be too much, makes the thin fabric beneath your shorts wet. You clench your jaw and your forehead furrows as you fight to push away the not so innocent visions plaguing your thoughts.
“You must be thinking of some nice things, your cheeks are flushed,” Folio points out with a smirk. Bringing your hands to your cheeks, you grin, slightly down turning your head, and when you’ve looked back up at him, your breath hitches when you see he’s removed his sunglasses and his eyes are fixed heavily on you.
Your nerves feel like they’re on fire and your knees are undoubtedly weak now. You know you look a mess, body already moist with sweat and your hair everywhere from the humidity, even though you have it pulled up, but that doesn’t seem to bother Folio. He surprises you by taking your face between his hands and leaning in, softly kissing you and stealing your breath away. It’s a long kiss, and deep, and you can’t help but notice the way Folio’s body leans into yours and presses firmly against it. You grip his red sleeveless shirt and take a deep breath even though your lips are still pressed tightly to his. The scent of him engulfs your senses and you suddenly want him everywhere on you. It’s taking every ounce of restraint to keep yourself together.
But the moment Folio slides his tongue across your bottom lip, making you whimper, you know you’re done for. You know what he wants. Slightly opening your mouth, he slides his tongue in and captures yours, pulling the moan you’ve been holding back from your lungs. He releases his warm breath over you and between his taste and the scent, the mint toothpaste he used this morning still lingers and it makes you pull him in closer to you, wanting to feel every movement of his body against yours.
“Shit,” he breathes when you part, but don’t let go of each other. He grins, laying his forehead against yours and slips a hand behind your head, bringing you in for one more soft kiss. “You have no idea what you do to me.” His confession surprises you and you wonder if there's a chance that he might tell you how he feels about you. Catching the twinkle in his eyes before it fades, you give Nick your best smile. He clenches his teeth together, making that tight jaw line of his appear, the one that gives you some of the best dreams of making out with him and possibly going even further, play through your mind like your favorite movie.
“You want to tell me what you're thinking, baby, or do I have to guess?” Your panties are soaked now. If it wasn't for you still being in Nick's arms, you'd be on the ground. “You’re trembling.” “Ha, I wonder why.” A small smile finds its way into the corner of his mouth. “Do I make you tremble?” His brown eyes widen, but his expression is serious as he drags his finger down the side of your arm to the front of your stomach, resting right above the waistband of your shorts. You slowly nod in response to his question earning you another smirk before he lowers his face to your neck and drags his tongue lightly over your skin, taking a small bit of it into his mouth. The feeling of him sucking on you excites you, making your muscles tighten and the fire in your abdomen grow. You moan as you squeeze his shirt tightly in your hands again, letting the heat of the moment rip through your body. “Your skin tastes so good,” he tells you when he brings his head up to face you. “I wonder if the other parts of you taste just as good.” You feel the heart spread across your cheeks, causing Folio to chuckle. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” you retort with a smug smile. “I would, Baby.” You grin, bringing your fingers to his lips and tracing with the tips of your fingers. You can feel that familiar tingle building up in the bottom of your stomach, the one that always comes when you think about Folio; the one that makes you squeeze your thighs together. You pull your bottom lip into your mouth, biting it to keep from kissing him again, and Nick notices.
“Come on,” his alluring brown eyes taking your breath captive as his hand takes yours again. “Where almost there.”
You come to a clearing and hear the sound of flowing water before you can even see the river that's just up ahead. But that's not what makes you stop and hold still. It's what's in the center of the clearing that takes your breath away. Before you, a few feet away, are two trees intertwined with what appears to be a heart formed in the middle, made from the bending of their long branches and green leaves. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen and it literally has you holding your breath. Bringing your hands to your mouth, you stare at it in amazement, moving closer while paying no mind to another clap of thunder, leaving Nick behind.
“I had to show you before we left. I found it yesterday when I was looking for the river.” You are utterly speechless, not just because of the trees, but also because Nick has made it a point to show you this, admitting that two trees forming a heart reminds him of you. You know this means something big, coming from Nick. He's not one to throw thoughts and feelings around or out to just anybody. You turn to look at him only to find he's already staring at you. The look in his eyes makes your heart skip.
“Judging by the look on your face I'm assuming you like it?” “I love it,” you croak, because speaking is proving to be difficult at the moment. Folio laughs “I knew you would.” Tears slip from your eyes and slide down your cheeks and you're suddenly super embarrassed that you're crying. “Hey come here, Doll,” he pleads, taking you into his arms. You throw your arms around his neck while he slides his around your waist, his hands finding their way to your bottom and squeezing it. His strong tug into him is just enough for you to know he’s serious about what he’s wanting; you feeling just how hard he is for you beneath his black shorts. The thought makes you forget you have knees at all and you can't help but give in to his demand. It’s an insatiable feeling, the hard thickness of his length pressed entirely against your sex. You feel him twitch, as if knocking upon your entrance, leaving you wanting more. Folio grunts and stagers a bit, almost losing balance, but gives you his sweet lopsided grin with narrowed eyes, taking a quick look at his watch. “We still have about ten minutes.” You want to believe he's serious, but you don't want to assume. Instead you laugh and continue to play his game. “You really want our first time together to last less than ten minutes out in the middle of the woods in broad daylight? Not to mention there’s an impending storm coming.” Folio looks up at the dark cloud-covered sky just as deep thunder rolls again. He laughs, shoulders bouncing to prove just how funny it is to him and you shove your hands deep into his back pockets, pushing yourself into him. “Fuck, Y/N, if you do that again, you're gonna leave me with no other choice.” He peers down at you, suddenly staring as if you're his next meal, and every nerve in your body is instantly on fire. You didn't mean anything by it. You're just playing the flirty game with him. But you're so nervous you feel light-headed so you quickly remove your hands from his pockets.
“Hey hold up now, I didn't say you had to take your hands away,” playfully reaching for them to shove them back in his pockets. You giggle followed by a loud squeal as Nick picks you up and spins you, putting you back down after your three persistent pleas. “I want our first time together to be someplace special. Someplace where we can be loud as fuck and no one will hear or care about what we're doing.” His expression is serious, but you know he's really not; is he? “Wow, okay, tell me how you really feel,” you say, shocked by his bluntness. “Okay, you really want to know how I really feel?” His question is more of dare than anything, but you play along anyway. “Sure, lay it on me Folio,” you tease. Leaning up against the side of a tree, Folio stands there staring at you for a minute. “I'm in love with you Y/N. I dream about you, I think about you constantly. I can’t stop. But even if I could, I don't think I'd want to.”
Folio drops his gaze, his soft brown eyes covered by the rim of his Harley ball cap. You know he's nervous. You know he's never been this bold with a girl before. But you're so shocked by his confession that you have no idea what to do. Your forehead creases and your mouth goes dry as you try to think of something to say, but fail. Is Nick being for real? When he doesn't look at you, you can't help but feel that he is being serious, and that softens your heart. Not acknowledging him would be mean and you have no intention of hurting him. So, you make the first move.
“Do you want there to be a first time between us, Nick?” His hesitation scares you a little despite what he just told you. Finally, he looks up at you with a small smile hiding in the corner of his lips and you swear his eyes are glistening. “I want a first, a second, a third… a million times… however many times you want until you get sick of me.” You let out a shaky laugh, floored that this is actually happening. “I don't think that's possible,” shaking your head at him. “Mmm… yeah it's pretty possible.”
There's a quiet moment between you. “Come here,” Folio calls to you with a quick flick of his head, and you do. He brings his hand to your neck, gently sliding his calloused fingers down your soft, delicate skin, causing shivers to ripple throughout your whole body. You want those hands everywhere on you now and you're not ashamed to admit it now that you know how he feels about you. “What if I bring my ski mask, you know the one,”
“Yes,” you say, trying to hide your excitement. You've had plenty of daydreams about him and the mask. “I’m quite aware of it, but isn’t that more Noah’s thing than yours?” Folio removes his ball cap and pushes his hair back. He looks so good to you right now as you picture him coming at you with said ski mask. If he was wearing it right now with the same look in his eyes you’d be willing to let him do whatever he wanted to you. Your skin heats up and you can feel it creeping over your cheeks as your heart pounds against your chest and you can feel damp fabric between your legs as you squeeze your thighs together. Folio notices. “Thinking about it aren’t you, Doll,” he questions, licking his lips. His warm breath on your neck as he leans in to taste your skin leaves you breathless. “Thinking about you and me together, and what it would feel like having me inside you? What it would feel like getting fucked by me with just a ski mask on.” Folio’s hands that are back on your hips dig their fingertips into your skin and your muscles tighten beneath his touch as you try to keep yourself up before your knees completely buckle. “Alright, that’s enough Nick,” you say with a shaky breath, reluctantly pushing his hands away. “You know I want to, right?” he asks in a somber tone. “I do. So did I,” hoping he can see the seriousness on your face. “I want you too.” He smiles and you release the tight breath you’ve been holding. “I want it to be on your terms, not mine.” His face softens and the tension goes away, and you melt into the sweetness you now see. “Thank you,” you whisper. He pulls you in for a deep kiss and you feel a rush of relief being in his arms this way. “Maybe we should talk about this another time.” You didn’t realize how much sexual tension was really between the two of you. “Well, you're the one who brought it up,” reminding you with a raised eyebrow. “Well, you're the one who started it,” lightly shoving him away from you. “Mmm, technically your brother did.” He taps the end of your nose as you think of a comeback. You have none. “Okay, fair point.” Folio smiles at you while taking a deep breath. “Let's head back, before Matt really does kill us both.” You agree and turn to leave, but stop instantly. “Wait, take my picture,” you say, handing Folio your phone. Grinning, he takes your hand. “I have a better idea,” as he leads you over to the trees. The thunder rolls again, and you start to feel the sprinkles of rain that are quickly turning into droplets. Wrapping his arm around you so that you're snug in the crook of his shoulder, Nick says your name and you look up at him. His lips land on yours and you fall into his kiss as you hear the snap of the camera go off, signaling he took the picture. “Hey! Nick!” Folio grins and takes off running through the pouring rain with you quickly in tow.
___________________________________________________________
After one more show in Louisiana, one in Mississippi, two in Florida, and two in Texas, the heat and humidity has all of you done for. You’re ready to go home. There is more work to be done once you get there, back to L.A., but a much needed break is first. Matt already has his entire month off planned, Noah too. Bryan will be knee deep in photos and rug making, Nicholas is flying home to Virginia, Jolly wants to sleep, but Folio has yet to mention anything. He’ll probably whisk away quietly on his bike for a long ride or a fishing trip, where you’ll be left to miss him like an insane person. But that’s okay. Everyone could use time apart.
You yawn and pull the hood further down to cover my eyes. The merch hoodie you’re wearing was actually Noah's and you confiscated it without him knowing. But you know he doesn’t mind. Settling deeper into the couch and in the hoodie, you feel a looming presence over you, and you have a good idea of who it is.
“Up,” Folio orders, tapping your legs. You obey, laying them back down on his lap once he sits down. “Are you alive under there?” “Barely,” you mumble. Your arms are crossed over your chest and the hood completely covers your face. “Alright,” Folio chuckles. “Well, are you listening?” You sigh. “Depends on what you’re saying.” You feel a warm hand slip under the hoodie first and then your shirt, sliding across the skin of your belly while making its way further up, filling your entire body up with goosebumps. “How about now; listening now?” You shake your head while smiling, but you know Folio can’t see it. The hand moves from right below your breasts, further south to right above the waistband of your leggings, stopping as if to think, but then continuing down overtop the fabric and over your heated sex that’s throbbing with lust from Folio’s teasing. Instantly, you sit up and pull the hood off, meeting with Folio’s face mere inches from you. “How about now,” he says with that adorable smile. You shake your head once more, the familiar tingling engulfing you between your legs, begging for one more touch from Nick’s fingers. He grins, leans in and kisses you, while sliding a finger between your covered folds, feeling you squirm and wiggle beneath him. Just his touch alone is sending you quickly to the edge. “Mmm… I want to feel more of that from you,” Nick says, once he sits back. “You're such a tease, you know that?” You shake your head and grin, sitting back without the hood this time. “So, really, are you listening?” You smile big, and shake your head again, watching Folio’s eyes grow dark and wide. You know what he wants and you’re playing his tightened strings so well, that they are about to snap. “I’m kidding, yes, I’m listening,” you say, attempting to pull him away from the ledge.
You prop your head on your fist, staring at the man before you who is too busy scrolling through his phone to notice you staring at him. Folio is beautiful, with all the perfect little things that make him so irresistibly hot at the same time. From the earring in his left ear, to the hoop in his nose, the large tattoo on his neck and the massive one on his chest. From his sweet disposition, to affectionate, caring heart, Nick was everything you wanted; physically and inwardly. He always made you feel safe and you knew at this moment you didn't want or need anything else. Folio was enough.
“I know what I want to do once we're home,” he says, raising his eyebrows and smiling. You grin seeing him so excited about whatever it is he’s about to show you. “I found this really cool fishing spot up in Washington called Trout Lake Cozy Cabins. Apparently they have some of the best trout fishing there. I wanna take the bike and go.” Your heart falls at the thought of him leaving, especially so soon after getting home, but you’re not about to rain on his parade. “That sounds like a great time,” trying to mask the disappointment in your voice. “Good, because you’re coming with me.” Your eyes dart up to Nick’s and you see him grinning. “You’re serious,” you say more as an affirmation than a question. “Yeah I’m serious. We need to get away together if we’re going to give this thing between us a shot.” “This thing?” Your eyes narrow and you sit up, scooting closer to Folio’s legs. “Yeah, this thing,” he confirms, licking his lips, looking you up and down as you move closer. “And what is this thing,” you whisper over his lips. Your eyes drop from his to his lips and you’re restraining everything in you to not reach out and grab him, pull him into you, and devour every part of his sweet face that’s got you going mad for him. “Mmmmm, it’s a really great thing,” he answers, his entire body still, but his breath is shaky. “And there’s an us?” Your heart is pounding so hard you wonder if he can hear it. “I’d really, really like for there to be an us,” he whispers as you hand grazes over his hard length that’s very obvious to your eyes at the moment.
“If you two seriously don’t quit, I’m throwing you out,” Matt barks as he walks by. You can hear the laughter hiding behind your brother’s tone and know there isn’t an ounce of seriousness in his voice. But still, you and Folio back off each other, allowing some breathing room. “So, you want to go here,” you say once you’ve taken a look at the place he’s pulled up on his phone. It’s very beautiful. It’s rural, quiet, and private; it’s the perfect place for you two. “I've already booked “The Pines” cabin for us.” Your eyes widen. “Seriously?” “Seriously.” “How far is it?” “Does it matter?” “It does if I’m going to be stuck with your ass, alone.” Folio pretends to be hurt. “I know you’re joking.” “Oh, but am I Folio?” You narrow your eyes and give him a smirk. You watch as his face grows a little anxious. You burst out laughing, earning you a ton of tickles to which your squeals turn into small screams. “It’s eight hundred and thirty-seven miles,” Nick finally tells you. “Whew, that’s a lot of miles. How many hours?” “Twelve and a half by the time we stop for gas and rest.”
“Wow… that’s a long time alone with you on a bike. I’m not sure I can do that Nick.” You try to keep your face as serious as you can and it works. Nick’s head falls and you know you’ve made him feel terrible. “Oh my gosh, I’m kidding,” you scootch into his lap and wrap him around you as much as possible. “I’m so kidding,” you say again, placing soft kisses all over him. Folio raises his head to look at you and now you’re the one who feels terrible. “You really have to stop fucking with my head like that. My feelings too; I’m sensitive.” The baby face he’s giving you makes you fold into him and bury yourself there. “I’m sorry,” you mumble into his chest.” “It’s fine. I’ll just make you pay for it later.” You freeze at the sudden change in Folio’s voice, sitting up and staring at him. “Seriously?” “Am I?” The mischievous glint in his eyes is too much and you bite your lip, wondering if maybe you shouldn’t have teased him so much. “Come with me and find out?” Folio smiles at you. “Well, I guess you’ll have to find out once we get home.” Getting up, you head towards the bathroom, pleased with yourself. “Seriously, Y/N!” “Yup, seriously, Folio,” chuckling at yourself because you already know the answer.
TO BE CONTINUED.....
#nick folio#nick folio bad omens#nick folio fic#nick folio fanfiction#nick folio x reader#bad omens cult#bad omens band#bad omens fanfiction
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Feeling You Can't Fight - Chapter Three
Not Beta Read - Masterlist - Pride Event Fic 🏳️🌈
Written for the @flightlessangelwings pride event - (Yes this was written for the 2023 pride event and I'm trying to finish it before pride 2024 I'M SORRY).
Summary (Entire Fic Summary)
After replacing the loathsome former staff manager of the National Art Gallery in London, you find yourself all too interested in one of your employees in particular. Manager and employee relationships aren't allowed, and even if they were, you aren't sure if the nervous gift shoppist would be interested in you anyway. There's only one way to find out...
Reader Inclusivity
Reader is not race coded, is a cis man, taller than MK by a few inches, British, ex military, has a big peen
Tags/Warnings (for entire series)
NSFW, writer is NOT from the UK so please be gentle, I did my best with UK terms and such, smut, anal sex, oral sex, anal creampies, cum eating, cum swallowing, rough sex, Marc has DID, reader has mild PTSD, PTSD symptoms, trauma responses, semi-public sex, praise kink, fluff, comfort, angst, romance, love, forbidden relationship (boss and employee), minor physical violence.
Word Count: 3.1k
“Wait love wait!”
The entire demeanor of the man in front of you changed into the sweet, caring man that you were smitten with. You let go of him, stepping back and looking down at him with a furrowed brow. You felt your heart racing as your fight or flight kicked in. Steven looked nervous as he stepped forward, pressing his palm to your broad chest.
“D-darling I…well…we have something we want to share with you and I thought that if we’re getting more serious then…no time like the present yeah?”
“Steven…what’s going on?” You were trying not to express your irritation with him, but your balled fists gave you away.
“M’gonna let Marc tell you everything but you have to promise not to hurt him, yeah?” Steven looked up at you, brows turned up and knitted together as he awaited your answer.
He gulped, rubbing your clothed pecks with his hand, smoothing out the wrinkles in your button-down. He tried smiling at you, biting his bottom lip. You didn’t like making Steven so frightened so you let out a deep exhale. If he wasn’t scared or in danger, then you didn’t need to be so on edge. You nodded slowly.
Steven let out a deep breath, “right then, gonna let him out now.”
You watched in awe as Steven’s eyes rolled back in his head and then his body changed again. He stood a little taller, and his expression appeared a little darker. The man breathed deeply, looking up at you before pulling his hand off your body as though he’d been burned. He averted his gaze. You could’ve sworn you saw his cheeks get a little more rosy.
“What the fuck is happenin’?” You asked in a serious tone.
“Look, I told Steven you weren’t ready for this conversation but he insisted we have it so…here we are. He said it was gettin’ serious with you and he didn’t want any more secrets between you two,” he cleared his throat nervously, “my name is Marc Spector.” The man shrugged, “I guess the easiest way to tell you is to just get it out there so…I have an identity disorder as a result of my childhood trauma.”
You both stood silently for a moment while you absorbed the information. You recalled your time in the British Armed Forces, and some of the horrific things you’d seen. Trauma caused the brain to do amazing things; Things that were difficult to explain sometimes. You understood trauma well. You looked at Marc’s face, seeing the seriousness behind his eyes. This wasn’t a game. This wasn’t some guy trying to mess with you, or pull a fast one on you. This was a man who had been through something horrible, or several horrible things, and it caused his mind to tear at the seams.
You nodded in understanding, “alright, yeah, I don’t know everything there is to know about identity disorders but, I’ve got some mental issues of my own mate, keep goin’.”
Marc nodded and exhaled in relief, “well, my…our mom…”
You put a hand on Marc’s shoulder, “s’fine, you don’t have to explain it t’me.”
“I…Steven, wants me to, he wants you to know, and he’s right…I need to be the one to tell you, because I’m the one who was there.” He looked away from you and at the floor, “our mom used to beat me, she hated me.”
You squeezed Marc’s shoulder gently. His head jolted up, glossed eyes meeting with yours. He shook his head, as though he were begging you not to make him continue.
“I meant what I said, and I’m talkin’ to Steven too…you don’t have to explain this t’me. I understand.”
“Fuck,” Marc said, turning away from you and covering his face in his hands.
I was awkward as hell to stand there while Marc cried, but you were glad he was getting it off his chest. You wondered if he’d ever shared this with anyone, or if it was only you. Either way, you knew he wasn’t sharing for his own sake, but instead for Steven’s, and you could respect that. When you look back now, you think that on the same day you met Marc, was the day you fell in love with him too, but you didn’t realize it yet.
“There’s another one too,” Marc looked at the water glass on the table.“Steven, I have to tell him.” You watched the - from your perspective - one sided conversation between Marc and Steven. “You didn’t want to keep this a secret but you want to keep him a secret? St–” Marc grumbled and then looked at you, “I’m telling you, even though Steven doesn’t want me to.”
“Tellin’ me what?”
“Jake is the third one of us. You may never meet him, but he’s here nonetheless,” Marc let out a sharp exhale, “We don’t really see him much either, but…the three of us get along…kinda.”
“Well, if he’s part of Steven’s life, then I look forward to meeting him,” you gave Marc a kind smirk.
You watched Marc’s entire body language change. It wasn’t like before when he switched from Steven to himself, but instead, it looked like his entire body relaxed with your reassurance. Marc looked like he might collapse and start crying again right then and there. You wondered when the last time he’d talked to someone about this was…if he’d ever talked to someone about this.
“Damn. That was…easier than I thought. You took that surprisingly well,” he said, giving you a tight lipped smirk.
“Had a boatload of therapy,” you shrugged, “I learnt long ago that you can’t really tell how the mind is gonna deal with trauma.” You thought now was as good a time as any to change the subject, seeing that Marc was getting uncomfortable again. “So are you…do you like…” you pointed to yourself. Of course you would hop from one uncomfortable topic to another.
Marc’s eyes shot wide once he realized what you were suggesting, “no, no, I like women, one hundred percent.”
Marc crossed his arms and cleared his throat nervously.
“But this, Steven and me, that doesn’t bother you?” You asked.
“Oh, oh, no. Steven’s happy, and the way I see it, that’s the only thing that matters,” Marc’s lips managed to curl into a smirk.
You could tell he cared about Steven, and so the two of you had that much in common, but that wasn’t the last time you saw Marc. You saw him again when you and Steven got into your first argument. It wasn’t anything serious, but it seemed to upset Steven enough to force him into the headspace.
The argument was stupid, and if you were being honest, it was a little funny. Steven walked into your office one afternoon, closing the door behind himself. He was stammering, as he often did when he was thinking about what he wanted to say faster than the words could come out. You chuckled, standing up and walking over to him, cupping his face.
“S’alright love, just tell me what’s wrong,” you brushed your thumb over his stubbled cheek.
“Gettin’ fed up with Linda not pickin’ up her mess in the break room,” Steven groaned, “I know s’not a big deal, not really, but I told her three times to pick up after herself and she still acts like a right slob.”
“Steven, that’s not really somethin’ I deal with,” you said as he huffed out a frustrated breath.
“I know, sometimes I just want to complain a bit, yeah?”
“C’mere,” you said, motioning with your finger.
He walked back over to you and pressed his face into your chest, “I’m irritated.”
You wrapped your arms around him, “I know darling,” you pushed him back at arm’s length, but I know something that might help.”
Steven had joked about wanting to blow you under your desk, but he’d never actually done it yet. In fact, he hadn’t blown you before at all. He acted like you were doing him a favor when you sat down in your big office chair with your legs spread out and his face between them. The way his eyes went wide with excitement and he started drooling you would’ve thought he was the one getting a blowjob.
He looked hungry, fumbling with the button and then the zipper of your pants as he released your cock from its confines. He always - always - made a comment about how big you were. His eyes crossed as your dick lined up between them, and he seemed breathless despite not yet having done anything at all.
“Steven, darling, might be too big f’you to fit in your mouth, it’s alright if you don’t want to.”
He looked up at you, putting a hand on either of your thighs.
“I want to,” he said softly.
Steven licked a stripe up your length, forcing your cock to twitch in response. You grabbed the arms of your chair as he repeated the gesture. You bucked your hips upward involuntarily. Steven giggled and looked up at you.
“Ooh, needy…” He wrapped his fingers around your girth, pumping up and down slowly, “you’re a bit leaky too love.”
“Are you gonna keep teasin’ me, or are you gonna be a good boy and take this thing like you were made to?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.
Steven nodded with a shaky breath, smile fading at your words. You felt bad being so verbally rough with him sometimes, but you knew he enjoyed it. Whenever the two of you were in bed together it was like flipping a switch, making him hard in an instant. You slid down further in your chair, moving one of your hands to the back of his curly head.
He licked up your length again before taking the head in his mouth. You shuddered seeing Steven’s lips stretched around your fat dick. It seemed like he really was made to take it, sliding over the length as though his gag reflex was nonexistent. You exhaled sharply, feeling the way his tongue rolled over the underside of your shaft.
“Oh god Steven, takin’ me so well love, that’s it, just like t-that,” you pushed him down over you even more, “you tap my knee if it’s too much darling, don’t wanna hurt you.”
You felt his throat contract around you. There was still more to go, and you wanted nothing more than to see your entire dick disappear inside his precious mouth. You brushed a thumb over his cheek.
“Relax your throat, Steven, open up f’me,” you felt his muscles relax and you were able to push in further. “That’s it, that’s my good boy.”
Steven moaned over your length as he started bobbing his head in a delicious rhythm. He took one hand off your thighs and you heard the clank of his belt while he started freeing his own cock. The sound of him jerking himself could just barely be heard over the sound of him choking on your dick.
He looked up at you with affectionate and tear glossed eyes when you carded your hand through his hair. You bit your bottom lip and started rolling your hips slowly forward into his mouth, brushing your pubes against his nose as he took every single inch you had to offer.
“Steven, you sure you’ve never done this before?” Your entire body trembled, “s-so good…”
You heard the distinct sound of footsteps approaching the door. You both froze.
“Steven, you locked the door, yeah?”
Steven, in fact, hadn’t locked the door.
Steven made himself as hidden as he could in the space under your desk, where the intruder wouldn’t be able to see him. You rolled up as close as you could get without crushing him in there. John, your boss, walked in, smiling big. He stepped over, putting a hand on the varnished surface of the desk, leaning in to talk to you.
“Hey! Just stoppin’ in to tell you I think you’re doin’ great, and those reports you sent me yesterday…perfect.” He patted your shoulder and you jumped in response.
You felt Steven between your legs trying to put your cock back in your pants, but struggling given its current…state. You were close before while he had it buried in his throat, and that hadn’t changed in the seconds that had gone by. You were still close, and him moving it around wasn’t helping that issue. You kept your eyes on John, but tried like hell to push Steven’s hands and face away from you, but to no avail.
“Well I’m…oh…” you cleared your throat, “I’m glad you l-liked them.”
Steven didn’t get the hint, he was still sliding his hand over your length, trying to get it back inside your boxers. You couldn’t try very hard to stop him, or it would be obvious you were trying to do something under your desk, so you stopped trying, and just hoped that John would leave before…oh god.
You slammed your hand on the desk, “f-fuck!”
To John, you must’ve looked insane, like you were staring at him wide-eyed and shouting for no apparent reason. To you and Steven, you were coming, hot ropes of your spend hitting your boyfriend in the face under the desk. You managed to keep yourself from saying anything too telling, and you kept your breathing level…as level as you could.
“Fuck I forgot to sign the agreement for the…the uhhh–”
“Oh! For the new display going into the Ancient Egypt section of course! I’ll go get that right now!” John chuckled, “glad you remembered that, I’ll be right back.”
As he walked out, you rolled back in your chair to see Steven’s pretty face covered in globs of your spend. He looked pissed off, crawling out from under the desk and grabbing a few tissues from your desk to clean himself off.
“Darling, what’s wrong? You’re the one who–”
“You…did this…all over my face!”
“Love, I couldn’t help it, you kept touchin’ me and–”
“And,” he held a finger up, “and you could’ve locked the door before havin’ me do that in the first place!”
“Steven, you could’ve locked the door yourself when you walked–”
“I wasn’t plannin’ to come in here and do somethin’ like that now was I?”
You could see the embarrassment in his flush cheeks. He seemed exasperated, chest rising and falling with every heavy breath. He wasn’t really mad at you, but you doubted you’d be getting another ‘under the desk’ blow job any time soon.
“Now your boss knows what we were doin’ and he’s gonna make you fire me and maybe he’ll even fire you and–”
“Stop…” you cupped his cheeks and kissed his forehead.
“No!” he pushed you off of him, “no, m’not gonna let you just kiss this one away. We could’ve been caught, you’re reckless and this isn’t like me at all! I don’t do things like this!” Steven stormed out of your office, passing John on his way out.
That was it…that was the argument.
You supposed that with Steven never having really been in a relationship before, an argument with his first ever significant other could be upsetting, despite it being such a silly thing to argue over. Taking that into consideration, you decided to tread lightly when you got home, toeing off your shoes in the entryway of his flat when you arrived almost silently. That’s when you noticed that Marc was there, not Steven.
“Hey,” he said, tipping back the beer in his hand and then holding it up, “want one?”
You shook your head, “no thanks.”
It was like Steven had a roommate. At least…that’s how it felt. Marc was the more stern one, like he was the polar opposite of Steven, but you didn’t mind. You liked the company regardless. Marc was a good guy, you could just tell. After a couple of minutes talking about the weather, the two of you managed to get into something more serious.
“You said you’ve been to therapy? Mind if I ask what for?” Marc took another swig of his beer.
“Uh, PTSD, spent a few years in the British Armed Forces and then got myself honorably discharged after…” you sniffed out a laugh, “maybe I will take that drink after all.”
After a few drinks, you and Marc were trading war stories and with it, your tales of trauma. You wondered how long it was going to take him to open up to you about why and how Steven came to be, but there Marc was, letting down his always stoic demeanor in order to open himself up to you.
He cried, and you opened your arms to him.
“No, no I told you I’m not…that’s not my thing…”
You laughed, “s’not a ‘thing’ to hug someone when they’re sad, Marc. C’mere…”
You tugged his jacket and pulled his rigid frame into your arms, wrapping them around him tightly. At first he was stiff, still mumbling some protests, but then you felt him exhale, like his entire body were a balloon being emptied of the air inside of it. That’s when the heavier sobs came, tears spilling out of his eyes and onto your forearm.
“Steven is so good, and sometimes I think it would just be best if I don’t ever come out. Sometimes I think that the world would be a better place without me in it,” he said between heavy cries. He looked up at you, “Steven could be happy, and be with you all the time and–”
“Steven would miss you, Marc,” you looked into his eyes, seeing the pain he felt just made you want to hold him closer, but you knew that would only make it more awkward.
You didn’t have to worry about feeling awkward though, because he leaned up and slotted his lips over yours all on his own. You pulled back in surprise, wondering if he did that by mistake or not, or if Steven had decided to come back when you didn’ notice.
“S-Steven?” You asked, looking between his eyes rapidly.
He shook his head, “no, still me,” he said breathlessly, looking down at your mouth before pulling you in again.
You smiled against his lips, “how unexpected.”
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