#and he’s not even making any effort like his stadium shows look exactly like his arena shows | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

There were a total of 171.5 billion posts on Tumblr in 2019.

#and he’s not even making any effort like his stadium shows look exactly like his arena shows

wwilloww · 4 years

Text

backstage | myg

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Smut.

Rating: Explicit.

WC: 4.2k

Summary: With the sounds of the stadium still ringing in his ears, Yoongi just needs to get away — just for a moment. And you have exactly the right idea about how to distract him.

Warnings: bathroom sex. oral (m receiving). implicit themes of powerplay. dirty talk. mild hair pulling. throat fucking. super duper like barely visible breathplay. penetrative sex. unprotected sex (don’t be a silly goose!! wrap it before ya tap it!). themes of exhibitionism. creampie. cumplay. mentions of group sex.

AN: What was supposed to be a simple 1k of smut turned into 4k of… more smut. What originally started as a challenge to write a bj in a way I enjoyed turned into 4k of a bj that I really enjoyed. I have to give 1 million baskets of thanks to Renae @mygsii and Lil @hesperantha for being the most incredible beta readers out there. They put so much time and energy into this and helped me sculpt this into its final version. And of course, thank you to the crew at BTS Smut Hub for their eternal thirst and support. Ya keep me going.

|| masterlist || navigation ||

©️wwilloww Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without my permission.

Backstage

Yoongi sighs, letting his eyes fall shut as he leans back against the door. The sound of the screaming crowd still rings in his ears, muffling the sounds of the world around him. He can still feel the rhythm and vibration of tonight’s music reverberating through his bones. If anything, the combination of exhaustion and overstimulation should have left him dead to the world. But instead every nerve in his body is alight, singing in sensitivity.

He’d needed air away from the post-concert bustle. The smallest details were grating on his nerves, even when they should have been insignificant, unnoticeable. He’d been so busy lately, no time for the things that actually brought him pleasure. He needed to get away, just for a moment.

With one hand tangled in your hair, the other gripping the doorknob, he looks down at you. All he can think is that he’d never seen anything quite so angelic. Your eyes turned devotedly up to him, lashes fluttering so sweetly — you could be sucking on a lollipop.

“God, you look so fucking cute sucking my dick.”

The timbre of his voice resonates through you, going straight to your cunt. The tight pout you have around him turns up as you try not to smile, mouth full of cock.

“You couldn’t fucking wait until we got home before you needed cock? Are you that desperate?”

You answer with your eyes, a mischievous glint sparking through them.

He had been stealing glances at you the whole night, searching the darkness of the wings for your familiar figure. Every swell and curve of your body was so familiar to him now that he swore he could have spotted you even if you were lost in the masses of the audience. What would it have been like for you to be out there, your eyes locking together? Hunting through a sea of searching hands to find your undeniable steadiness and gleaming presence. There’s a part of him that thinks that even with the lights blinding him and the unending wave of faces that he would know you were out there, would be able to feel your company.

Still, he chased your gaze in the crowd of stage hands and stylists and technicians. You were hidden away, watching him perform from a small break in the stage. The whole night you had watched, aptly glancing between the performance screen and the small crack, just waiting for Yoongi to pop into view on your small sliver of sight. And everytime he did, you couldn’t help but glow, a smile pouring across your face and lighting up your entire being.

You’d seen him rehearse, of course. You’d seen him perform in front of cameras and studio audiences and at awards shows. But this was different. There was an extra sharpness to his movements, a force behind his voice. The energy of the audience was undeniable and you knew it pushed him forward to perform the best you’d ever seen him perform.

You grabbed his hand almost immediately after he had stepped off stage, wrapping him in a tight hug.

“I’m so proud of you,” you mumbled into his chest. You held him there in silence, heart full of awe and admiration. It was a moment before you looked up to see a stylist just standing there, still holding a towel to his face. You quickly apologized to her, as she continued to try to pat the sweat off of his face. Technicians and staff and members bustled around, everyone jostling into one another. Even as you held his hand, he looked lost. As you watched, you noticed frustration flit across his face, saw his slip into stubbornness as she continued to do her job. You’d seen this look before and knew it well: overload.

In a snap decision, you tugged him away without explanation to the woman still dabbing his forehead or any of the members busting around him, mumbling “Come with me.” You left the poor stylist stuttering and flustered behind you as you dragged him— much to his protest— to the closest single bathroom.

Slamming the door shut, you turned him around so he was leaning against the frame.

“Are you okay?” you asked softly.

He nodded, leaning into your touch as you reached up to hold his face between your hands. You let your thumbs run over the pink of his cheeks until you saw the frustration dissipate from his features. You knew he was tired. Knew he was riding the high of the concert. Knew he was stuck somewhere between excitement and overwhelm. As soon as the crease in his brow softened, you pressed a kiss to his lips. Light, fluttering. Just enough to ground the both of you.

“What did you think?” he asked when you pulled back, searching your eyes.

“You’re amazing.”

“Everyone did so well tonight, I was—”

“No. You’re amazing.” you repeated. “You.”

He began to reach for your lips again, that heavy-lidded look that you loved so much taking over his features. But instead of taking him into your embrace, you pushed him back against the door, his back hitting the solid wood with a slight thud.

“Let me,” you said, swatting away his wandering hands. “Hands off.” You stepped back, letting your hand wander up the warm skin of your arm until you reached the strap of your dress, teasing it between your fingers. “You’re frustrated. And you’ve been working so hard. Don’t you think you’ve earned something for all of your efforts?”

You watched him swallow, his adam’s apple bobbing. Ever-so-slowly, you began to slide the soft fabric down your body, taking your sweet time as you did so. Even as your attentions were focused on dragging out this moment as long as possible — making him wait for you — your gaze was focused on his features. His every movement. The way his eyes darkened, his head tilting down to better gaze upon you, his jaw dropping ever so slightly as he watched on. As the dress came down to your hips, you let go and it pooled around your ankles.

Delicately, you stepped over it and towards the dazed man in front of you.

“No bra?” he gulped. You shook your head as he swallowed and righted himself, his voice dropping as he spoke. “You walked around all night with nothing on, but that tiny piece of fabric underneath that dress?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, walking towards him. “Just for you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Would you really have been able to focus on stage — thinking about me, like this, just waiting for you?”

He reached for you then, rather than answering you, but you pushed his hands away and slid to your knees before him. You made quick work of unbuckling his belt, not bothering to pull his pants down before you pulled his already-hard cock out of his boxers.

“How long have you been hard?” you asked, slowly stroking him, watching the way his cock twitched in your hand.

“For the past hour.”

“Good.” You smirked up at him before opening your mouth just enough that he could see your pink tongue. “Then use me.” He sucked a harsh breath in. With one hand still wrapped around his length, you leaned closer and let the head rest heavy on your tongue.

Seeing you like this, so perfectly laid out for him, feeling the cushiony softness of your tongue against the base of his cock, Yoongi couldn’t help but groan, his hips thrusting involuntarily towards you.

You’d had enough teasing. You had wrapped your lips around him and took him into your mouth.

He fell apart beneath your touch.

And now you slowly slide down his length, taking as much of him into the wet warmth of your mouth as possible. He watches as your lips wrap even tighter around him, the perfect mix of pout and absolute devastation. You swirl your tongue against the bottom of his cock to the best of your ability as you bob up and down on him.

He groans. Loudly. Loud enough that you hear a muffled “What the fuck was that?” on the other side of the door.

Your sharp inhale of breath, still wrapped around him, catches his attention.

“You like knowing that someone out there knows I’ve got my cock down your throat, don’t you?”

The sharpness of his words sends a shock straight through your body. You nod to the best of your ability. Other than the hand he has in your hair, you hadn’t let him touch you all night — and because of that you are left overly sensitive to his every word, his every touch.

“Good girl.”

Cunt clenching involuntarily at the words, you’re thankful you left your panties on, knowing you’d be dripping down your thighs by now if you had opted to take them off.

Usually, you would take it slow. Torture his orgasm out of him like it was something to be built towards, drawn out. But tonight you are chasing his pleasure, watching every little fold in his brow, noticing every moment his grip in your hair tightened, feeling every time his clothed thighs tensed beneath your grasp.

He’s still dressed in his last outfit of the concert. His brow glistens with sweat. The flush on his face is a mixture of the remnants of his performance and the pleasure you were currently coaxing from him.

“Fuck my mouth, baby,” you say, pulling off of his cock long enough to let the words slip out. A trail of saliva connects your swollen lips to the head of his dick, red and darkened with his near-painful arousal.

“How can you be so adorable and say such filthy things?”

It was more of a muse than an actual question. He loved your duality. Your ability to flirt and play so innocently out in public, and then flip a switch as soon as the door was closed. And not just the bedroom door, he thinks. Any door, apparently.

He is quick to press his hand to the back of your neck to pull you back to his crotch, the head of his cock bumping up against your cheek. He quickly wraps a hand around the base, teasing your searching lips with the bulbous head. You chase him, whining when he chuckles. It isn’t until you look up to him, a serious pout falling across your lips that he finally feeds it to you.

You take him in one go, the tip of his cock bumping against the back of your throat. It hits just hard enough that you gag. He tries to slow his motions—to pull back— but you blink away your tears and glance up at him, before pushing down further, knowing you could take it, knowing you want to take it.

A choked moan slips out of him as you ease him into your throat, the tightness of your pulsing walls sending stars through his body. Hands gripping his thighs like they were the only things in the world, you begin to pulse back and forth. When you look up at him, he is gazing down at you, that mix of power and desire that you so love dancing in his eyes.

You release him from your throat, gasping hoarsely.

“Is that all you can take?” He slips both of his hands into your hair where they tangle with your thick locks. The hardness of his many rings presses against your scalp, offered a startling contrast to the strength of his hands and the gentle tug of your hair. He waits for a moment, gauging your unyielding eye contact to make sure you could. As soon as he recognizes that spark in your eyes and feels your hands squeeze twice around him—your signal of consent—he’s moving again, easing his thick cock back into you.

He pushes fully into your mouth, a deep graveled groan ripping through his chest as the tightness of your throat wraps around him. Beginning to thrust, he tightens his grip in your hair, bobbing your head to his own pace. You do your best to relax the muscles in your neck and throat, to erase everything but the sensation of the man you love fucking in and out of your mouth.

His pace is perfect, not too fast, not too slow. You feel the head of his cock push past your uvula and into your throat. With one hand, you reach up, your hand coming to wrap around your own throat.

Beneath the sensitive skin of your hand, you feel his tip bulging through the delicate skin with each thrust and you groan at the sensation. He shudders at the reverberations of your voice, pulsing through him. There’s something wild, indescribably dirty, to the feeling of his cock through your skin, to feeling him chasing his orgasm from inside and outside you at the same time. His nails scrape deliciously against your scalp as you continue to moan around him, the vibrations of your pleasure coursing through his cock and straight up his spine.

“Take all of it, baby,” he grunts, and you know he’s close to his release. Your hand tightens around your throat, tears springing to your eyes, drool dripping down your chin.

As Yoongi looks down on you—mascara running and mouth sloppy with a mix of your drool and his precum—arousal sears through his body. The absolute devotion in your eyes pushes him further towards the edge.

Tonight was supposed to be about you, too. Even though you had been around the other guys for months now, this was your first stadium concert, your chance to really step into his world— and yet here you are on your knees in a backstage bathroom with a very thin door, just for him.

What had he ever done to deserve someone like you?

He thrusts his hips forward into your waiting mouth, earning a delighted moan from you. He is so close— so close to his release, so close to pouring himself out down your warm, waiting throat. That unmistakable warmth sears through his abdomen, pulling him closer, drawing him nearer to— he feels your hand tap gently twice against his thigh, your tell for him to release you.

He stops immediately, gripping his cock as he pulls out of the confines of your throat and untangles his grip from your hair. He drops to his knees before you, reaching for you. His thumb brushes over the streams of mascara off of your cheeks.

“You alright, love?” The dominating tone is gone now, concern in its place.

You smile at him, coming to place your hand over the one that cupped your cheek. It’s a sweet, loving gesture — and you sigh into it — but all sense of sweetness is broken by your next words.

“I need you to fuck me.”

“I— uh, what? Are you sure?”

“I need you to fuck me,” you repeat, seriously. “I can’t believe you would think I could go without your cock all night — that I could walk out of here without your cum dripping down my legs.” You pout.

Just like that, he’s pulling you to your feet and spinning you around so that your waist hits the cold marble of the sink. With absolute control, he runs his hand up your spine until it reaches the middle and he pushes, adding a delicious arch to your back.

He is quick to line himself up with your sopping entrance, pulling the fabric of your panties to the side so he can slide the head of his cock through your dripping folds.

“Did sucking my cock make you this wet?” You whine, pushing back on him, desperate to feel him fill you. He clucks his tongue. “You’re so eager to please, maybe I should just shove my cock right back down your throat and take my own pleasure.”

“Noo,” you whine wantonly. “Need you.” You look up at the pair of you in the mirror. Your eyes are dark and filled with lust, face stained with mascara and remnants of his fucking. You are bare naked, minus the thin straps of your panties. Behind you, Yoongi stands fully clothed, his belt unbuckled just enough for him to grip his cock and hold it against you. The top button of his shirt has come undone, revealing a sheen of sweat. But it’s his face, the look he wears, that captures you.

Pure, unadulterated adoration dresses his features as he meets your gaze in the mirror.

He hooks a finger under your panties, pulling them to the side, and runs a thumb over your entrance. Your back arches at the touch, having denied yourself for so long.

Without warning, he presses the head of his cock to your entrance and begins to slide in.

Getting him off had always been a practice in edging yourself. You’d learned this over the months you’d spent with the beautiful man behind you. The more you saw his pleasure unravel before you, the more pleasure you felt. It didn’t matter if you weren’t particularly interested in whatever it was you were doing — you were interested in him. So as his thick girth begins to fill you, the new sensation bursts through your senses, searing your cunt with pleasure.

You let loose a whine, one that feels like it was pulled from the depths of your abdomen. Primal. Wanting. “Yoongi,” you gasp.

“What the fuck is going on in there?!” You hear someone call from the other side of the door, but you choose to ignore them, instead turning your attention to pushing back on Yoongi’s cock.

“Did you lock the door?” you pant.

“No — did you?”

“No.” He turns to lock it, but you stop him, reaching behind you to grab his arm.

“Leave it. Just fuck me, please.”

He grins at you in the mirror. “Fuck,” he hisses. “You like the idea of someone walking in on you?” You groan, your cunt clenching around him at his words. “To see you split open on my cock, moaning my name like only I can make you?”

“Yes,” you choke out as he rams into you especially hard. “Wan’ them to know.”

“To know what?”

“That you’re mine.”

Yoongi swivels his hips against yours, drawing a particularly loud moan from you.

“Fuck.”

“Touch yourself,” he growls. “Make yourself come on my cock.”

You whimper, your body shaken by his relentless thrusts. Still, you reach down, fingers drifting over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Yoongi continues to rail into you, his hips grinding in a slight circle each time he bottoms out. Even as your breath hitches in your throat as you begin your ministrations on your clit — slow circles, building in strength and speed — all you can think about iss the way he bit his lip as he looked down on you. The way his brow furrowed in delicious concentration like you were the only thing worth paying attention to in the world.

He adjusts his grip on your hips, his long fingers pressing into your abdomen. You know there will be bruises there tomorrow.

The new grip allows him to thrust up into you with a new viciousness.

“Fuck, princess, you’re so tight around me.”

The glaze in his eyes tells you he is close to his release and so you increase your pace, the sensation of his cock pounding into you and the calculated swirl of your fingers building the perfect tension.

“Ah, fuck, gonna cum,” Yoongi hisses.

“Cum inside,” you beg.

He groans at your words. You want him as deep within you as you could possibly get him. Want him on you, in you, surrounding you.

With one final thrust, he wraps his arms around you, pressing his clothed torso to your bare back. He thrusts shallowly a couple times before a thin groan resonates through his chest and you can feel his cock twitch within you, painting your walls with his cum.

With a cry, you feel the watery band of pleasure snap inside of you. You fall forward, catching yourself on your elbows as you feel Yoongi’s hand drift down to your clit, circling you through your pleasure.

His breath is heavy, shakey against your back. The two of you stay like that for a while, just breathing together.

Yoongi pulls out, tucking himself back into his pants. He begins to reach for one of the hand towels in the stack but you hold your hand out.

“Keep it in,” you whisper. His eyes shoot up to yours. With a slight grin, he pulls your panties back over your cunt, sealing his cum inside you. With a playful tap to your still-sensitive mound, he stands, hands pressed into your hips.

“You’re gonna keep that inside for me, hm?” he murmurs into your ear, the brush of his words raising goosebumps on your skin. “You’re gonna walk around all night with my cum still inside of you. You’re gonna leave it in until we get back to the hotel and I can fuck it out of you again.”

Your eyes widen as you looked at Yoongi.

If he keeps talking like that, you’d be ready to go again in a minute. And judging by the semi he was sporting, he would be too.

You giggle to yourself as you pull your dress back on. Yoongi has finished dressing and now stands, facing the mirror, picking through his hair as he continues to steal glances at you. You are glad you brought your purse into the bathroom. You reach in to pull out a pack of makeup removers. Just as you are about to dab away the mix of tears and mascara from your cheeks, you feel Yoongi’s fingers wrap around your wrist.

“Here,” he says softly. “Let me.”

You smile at the man, a pink flush still painting his cheeks. Ever so gently he wipes away the black makeup from your face, taking his time to make sure he doesn’t pull at your skin or miss a spot.

“All done,” he says, tossing the wipe into the trash can. “Good as new.”

You turn back to the mirror. Makeupless, fuck evident, but good enough.

“Thanks babe,” you say, pulling him tight against you and kissing him lightly. Your tongue skates over the pink swell of his lower lip, but the kiss remains light and playful. He sighs into you, his hand running up your back.

“I love you,” he mumbles against your lips before stepping back. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Yoongi reaches for the doorknob.

“Oh!” You can feel your mixed cum beginning to leak out of your cunt and run down your leg. You snap your legs together, impulsively reaching out to Yoongi to grasp onto his arm as a nervous laugh bursts out of you.

“What—” His eyes flicker downwards to where a rivulet of white shines on the skin of your inner thigh. The dress you wore tonight is short, and leaves little to the imagination. But the image of his, his cum running down your inner thigh has him swallowing hard, his hand coming into a fist as his heart jumps into his throat.

Your eyes are large, blinking up at him as his hand comes down to rest on your waist. Ever-so-slowly, he kneels before you, eyes level with your hips. Gently, he pushes your leg aside so your thighs are no longer clenched together and rolls the hem of your dress up.

“Wha—”

“Shh,” he hushes you.

Looking up at you, he leans in. His pink tongue darts out between swollen lips and he presses it to the inside of your leg. You gasp at the warmth. In the afterglow of your orgasm, your whole body sings with sensitivity.

Slowly, deliberately, he licks up the trail of his own come, collecting the white substance into his mouth. You nearly groan at the sight. When he reaches your panties, he closes his mouth and swallows, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh before rising to his feet. You run a hand through his hair, tugging him to you. As he kisses you, you can taste the mix of both of your juices on his tongue and you press deeper into the salty taste.

“We should go back,” Yoongi murmurs against you. “Before anyone thinks we’ve gone missing.” He chuckles in your hair, finally unlocking the door.

Jimin stands there, his mouth agape.

“Why do you always have to be so fucking loud?” he asks with a scowl, shaking the shock out of his eyes. “Like great, we all know you have a killer sex life, do you have to rub it in our faces too?” he grumbles.

You chuckle, pulling your friend into a side hug.

“Maybe next time you should join us, and we can do something about that bruised ego of yours.” You wink at Yoongi, feeling his hand settle heavy on your lower back as you rejoin the sway of the crowd.

“Maybe,” he growls into your ear. He pulls you tight against him as he smirks at Jimin.

taglist: @thatmultifandomhoe @spicykoreantatertots@usuallynervoussheep@hesperantha @myimaginationsrunningwild @ot7always @thatlongspringnight @ladyartemesia @ppersonna @ezralia-writes

|| masterlist || navigation ||

2K notes · View notes

chloebeale · 3 years

Text

NOW OR NEVER — (THE BECHLOE KISS)

PAIRING: Bechloe. RATING: T. A/N: It’s 3:30 am and my eyes are blurring, but how could I resist?

BECHLOE KISS / headcanon post

***

Beca doesn’t want her.

It has been years now. Years of longing looks and lingering stares, of dainty fingers brushing against gently trembling hands in the cool evening air. Years of Chloe wanting Beca, of desperate pining and of so painfully, so achingly just wanting her. There is something of a sad finality in accepting, as she watches Beca with glossy, tear-stung eyes, crowded by people and ready to start her new life—the life Chloe knows she truly, truly does deserve—the idea of Beca leaving, of taking these next steps away from the Bellas, away from Chloe.

No matter how soul-destroying that realization may be, though, Chloe is filled with a bittersweet feeling all in all. Chloe is so happy for Beca, she is so ridiculously happy, so overwhelmingly proud of her. But letting go of those years, of those real and raw feelings, it is just...it’s really freaking hard.

And Chloe knows that it is unfair of her to retreat to Chicago right now. As she moves through the crowds of people with a specific purpose, in search of the one person she knows will be able to take her mind off of everything even if only for a brief moment, she knows that it is so, so unfair, because he wants her, and she doesn’t want him. She just wants… Well, she just wants the distraction.

She realizes, as she rounds the corner to the familiar sight of a smiling Chicago, that he will be all too happy to provide that for her. And that is unfair, too.

Despite her sadness, despite that sense of loss plummeting into her stomach, despite everything, Chloe’s own smile is a genuine one as she picks up the pace of her footsteps, hand outstretching to rest on the back of Chicago’s neck in an effort to pull him closer.

He doesn’t question her, he leans in just as easily as she does, and for half a second, Chloe gets to just… she just gets to forget.

***

Adrenaline. It is adrenaline that is keeping Beca going right now.

It was adrenaline up on that stage, as she belted out that song to a packed out stadium of people, and it is adrenaline coursing through her body now, as she excuses herself from the Bellas’ squeals of excited celebration, knowing exactly where she wants to go.

Beca had seen it, she had seen that look of quiet sadness glistening in the most familiar eyes as their gazes had met through the crowd. And Beca knows what all of this entails, she knows that signing with DJ Khaled is going to mean a lot of huge, terrifying changes, but there is one thing she refuses to leave behind, one person she simply will not do this without.

She just needs to tell her. She needs to find her, and she needs to tell her.

Of course, as Beca rounds the corner to a quieter section, she doesn’t necessarily bank on exactly what she finds there.

To say that her heart doesn’t drop would be a lie. Beca has seen Chloe kissing people before, she has seen her with other people, and she has seen the very distinct way Chicago has stared every time Chloe has entered a room throughout this entire trip.

This time, however, that natural pang in her chest seems to subside quickly, it seems to be overtaken by a new rush of adrenaline, and as she stares blankly at the scene before her, notes the sight of Theo approaching in her peripheral vision, Beca decides to do something about it.

Theo doesn’t get the chance to speak. He opens his mouth to do so (that dude is always talking), but Beca doesn’t let him proceed. Instead, she rides that same wave of adrenaline, and presses her hand to his abdomen to effectively push him away.

“I’ve gotta go show this guy how it’s done,” she murmurs, and whether it is to Theo or simply to herself, a brief pep talk of some kind, Beca doesn’t know.

All she knows is that her feet carry her forward with a confidence she barely even recognizes, until she can reach out and grasp Chloe by the arm.

And suddenly, she realizes, it truly is now or never.

***

It catches Chloe off guard at first, the feeling of a hand tugging at her wrist. Fortunately, despite the level of passion she is attempting to display, she is absolutely not feeling this current kiss, she doesn’t care for the man whose lips are pressed firmly to her own. It proves easy for her to pull away, startled eyes widening slightly at the sight of Beca Mitchell, confident and beautiful, pulling her in.

It is like something from a dream—a dream Chloe has had many, many times before—the way Beca lifts her hands to Chloe’s cheeks. Chloe doesn’t even get to question her, doesn’t get to ask her what she is doing, before she feels soft lips pushing against her own, feels her lids fluttering shut and her body giving in to the sensation of Beca Mitchell kissing her, of something she has wanted for so, so long now.

Instinctively, Chloe’s hands rise to the back of Beca’s head, long fingers grasping at her neatly styled hair. And she cannot believe this is actually happening, cannot believe she is actually, finally kissing Beca Mitchell. No—Beca is kissing her.

Although she registers the sound of another voice (Theo’s, perhaps?), Chloe doesn’t take it in. She can’t really think of anything, nothing other than this very moment, this long overdue act of desperate passion, of years of pent up, desperate longing. As much as she doesn’t want to ruin it, doesn’t want to stop it, she needs a second to really take it in.

“What are you…” Chloe begins in a soft, disbelieving voice as she pulls just slightly back. Her hands refuse to move, they refuse to loosen their grip on the back of Beca’s hair, almost like she is afraid of her coming to her senses and making a hasty retreat. She expects the sight of Beca’s gaze, less scared than she would’ve ever imagined, to be something of a reality check, but it isn’t. There is no terrified moment of realization, no fear nor apprehension. It is simply them, the two of them staring at one another in the most natural, most comfortable way. Chloe’s voice softens, corners of her lips arching upward just slightly, and she whispers in a quiet, genuine tone meant only for Beca, “Bec, Do you know how long I’ve waited for you to do that?”

Although Beca licks her lips, almost like she is about to say something, it seems that she opts to hold back, to use her actions as her voice right now instead. A soft hand reaches around to tuck a loose auburn curl behind Chloe’s ear, and the gentle grin on Beca’s lips, the one Chloe’s gaze darts directly to, speaks volumes. She has every answer she needs as Beca leans back in, and Chloe does nothing to stop her.

A hand drops to her side, before her palm is settling beneath Beca’s thigh. Chloe lifts it to move her impossibly closer, and soon she is melting into this perfect, blissful moment with Beca Mitchell, a moment to far surpass any of her fantasies.

Maybe, she finally realizes, just maybe, Beca does want her, after all.

#beca mitchell #chloe beale #bechloe #bechloe fic #bechloe kiss #mine #mine:writing #now or never

464 notes · View notes

hacash · 3 years

Text

ted lasso 2x05 thoughts

I was so overwhelmed by the Christmas ep that I don't think I even did a reaction post, but please consider me squealing with joy about everything but particularly Bumbercatch's knitting and Isaac as the only Santa Claus I will ever sexually fantasise about.

anyway

another Friday, another day in which the Ted Lasso writers shamelessly toy with my emotions and make my heart explode into teeny tiny pieces

I know some people didn't enjoy it but even as someone who's not that invested about romcoms I loved all the little references - I think it's always obvious when show writers are having fun with a concept and that fun ends up being infectious. that's precisely what this ep felt like: even if you don't personally vibe with it, it's still fun.

Bantr is now officially sponsoring the team! You love to see it. I wonder if we'll see any more of Dubai Air - or potentially see the financial fallout of the team going from being sponsored by a major airline to a new start-up dating app - but it's a nice bit of continuity.

I'm sure going to miss Roy-as-Pundit, but sometimes good things have to leave to make way for better things - bring on Coach Roy! The fact that his love for football ended up being the climax of the whole romcom arc was lovely - the dramatic romcom run to the stadium, leading to him coming back to his pitch and being greeted by his old chant? Not ashamed to say it: there were tears.

I love Isaac and Roy's underrated broship, so seeing Roy making an effort to connect with him and encourage him was absolutely lovely. And Roy and Ted back together again!

There were so many pure moments in this ep I can't even begin to describe. Getting Isaac back to himself by reminding him what he loved about the game as a kid all over again? More tears. Him leading the warm-up with a goofy kids' game and all the guys remembering to just have fun with a game they would all have fallen in love with when they were all young. Niagara Falls.

THE HIGGINSES. Such an unjaded portrayal of an established married couple who are still as bonkers about each other as they've always been.

Silly Rebecca! Silly stretching Rebecca! <3 <3 <3

Nate's on the right path in settling into himself and gaining more confidence, but we've still clearly got a little way to go - I'm interested to see if the introduction of Roy to the coaching team will have a big impact (after all, we know Nate's always looked up to Roy, and if there's anyone who Nate will worry is about to take his place...). I'm glad we're getting more demonstrations of why Nate's been acting out a bit this season, and seeing more of his insecurities just makes me want to hug him. (And yes, I'm still waiting for the Nate Strut.)

Also I love how geniune and kind Keeley was with Nate and figuring out straight away that he didn’t want to get famous just for fame’s sake. I really want to see more of them in future: I feel like Nate needs some good female friends.

Dani: 'My mother said I was born caffeinated.' OH DANI.

Sadly not much Sam or Jamie in this episode, but I appreciate Sam's recognition of the Bridget Jones movies. (On that note: as another romcom shoutout I would have loved to see a mock-up of the Colin Firth and Hugh Grant fight in this episode - arguably the best scene in romcom history - but I realise the universe cannot give us everything.)

Colin posting about Welsh independence! I've said it before and I'll say it again: every new episode I start by thinking I couldn’t love his character more, and every episode Billy Harris and the writers decide to prove me wrong.

‘But it will all work out. Now it may not work out how you think it will, or how you hope it does, but believe me: it will all work out exactly as it’s supposed to. Our job is to have zero expectations and just let go.’ WELL COLOUR ME SCARED OF THIS IMPENDING DARK FOREST.

This whole therapy thing is bearing down on Ted like an avalanche and I for one am here for the emotional fallout.

Maybe it's being screwed around repeatedly by tv showrunners who want to prove how smart they are (SW, GoT, Moffat, Marvel) by whipping the rug out from under the viewers' feet, but I am so tense and so suss about this 'Ted and Rebecca are totally chatting on Bantr' thing that it's driving me crazy. On the one hand: I need it so much it's like air. On the other hand: if this turns out to be a double-bluff would that mean that the showrunners do have Ted & Rebecca as endgame and just want to do a bit of messing with us first? I DON'T KNOW and it's driving me mad.

#ted lasso #ted lasso spoilers #the little things

56 notes · View notes

lumosinlove · 3 years

Text

Coast To Coast

Hi Hazelnuts!! The final chapter of Coast To Coast! The technical end of the SW universes. I can’t even believe it. Thank you all so much for loving these three boys--and all of my OCs. When I first started writing Sweater Weather, I didn’t expect people to care about the rest of the team. I am so thankful that you do. From me, Leo, Logan, and Finn, thank you, thank you, and bitch ass moves.

Love, Haz

part ix

tw: brief minor panic attack

Finn could relive it when he closed his eyes.

They’d ducked into a dark room at Hogwarts stadium, empty save for some spare equipment. The noise had been loud even from within, or maybe it just rang in Finn’s ears. He’d hoisted the Cup. They’d won on home ice. He’d pressed his lips to Logan and Leo’s cheeks out there—and some others, for good measure—and now all he wanted was to do this. Finn had not so much gotten his breath back before he had been kissing them. He could feel Leo and Logan, their hands gripping his uniform just as tightly as he held theirs.

“The Conn Smyth,” Finn remembered saying into Logan’s mouth. The kisses had been beyond sloppy, and Finn had everything. The Cup. Logan. Leo.

He had everything. Right then, he didn’t even mind that no one knew it. He knew it. His family knew it. The people that mattered knew it.

Leo’s mouth had dragged up Logan’s neck and met Finn’s in an effort to kiss Logan, too.

“Hat trick,” Leo said. Leo had stripped himself of his goalie pads, and knelt, right there on the rough carpet, long legs jammed between Logan and the door. He had pushed Logan against the shelves and undone Logan’s pants, pulling his jock aside and his spandex, getting at his cock. Logan was already a little hard when Leo took him in his mouth, nose bumping the swell of his jock. When he moved, his jersey rustled against his padded pants, mixing with Logan’s breathing. Logan leaned into Finn’s side, a moan punching out of his mouth.

“Leo—”

“Shh, baby,” Finn said, and turned Logan’s head so that he could kiss him, mumbling into his mouth. He reached down to cup his balls, thumb stroking Leo’s lip. “Kiss me now.”

Logan did, Finn silencing his sounds. Their fingers were tight in Leo’s hair.

Logan had been shaking a little under their mouths. He was half-laughing, half-panting, green eyes bright and pupils blown. He’d whined low in his throat as he came, as they both kissed his neck, fingers in their damp hair. His skin had tasted like the champagne from the locker room, and when Finn kissed Leo, Leo’s mouth had, too—from drinking it out of the Stanley Cup.

The Cup.

There had been Pascal’s, too, and kisses without having to hide, and clinging clothes in the pool. And then they were home, alcohol filtering out of their systems and still wide awake, at four in the morning, stripping off their clothes for a hot shower. And everything had lulled. Finn thought about Logan’s head on his chest, Leo’s, from behind him, on his shoulder. The hot water pounding around them.

Finn blinked away from the memory and back to the warm light of their bathroom, where he was sitting on the counter now, Gryffindor turned to summer outside and Leo between his legs.

“Hold still,” Leo said.

“I’m trying,” Finn said. He tapped his heels against the back of Leo’s knees. “Logan’s making me laugh, yell at him.”

Logan held up his hands, one holding his phone. “What? I’m just standing here.”

Leo ducked closer, his fingers gentle on Finn’s jaw as he carefully scraped the last of Finn’s stubble away. Finn hummed when Leo wiped the last of the shaving cream with a warm towel.

“There,” Leo ran a hand over Finn’s jaw. “Done.”

“Perfect, should I do you now?” Finn grinned, moving his hands to Leo’s ass. “Oh, wait—”

Leo flicked Finn’s freshly shaven cheek.

“—Baby face.”

“Lo, you’re up,” Leo mocked glared and Finn laughed, pulling him in closer.

“I like baby face,” Finn said, and made a show of biting at the skin of Leo’s jaw with a growl.

“Don’t turn him on,” Logan said, shoving at Finn. “I want this thing off of my face.”

“I’m a little turned on,” Leo said.

Finn kissed Leo’s neck twice before sliding off of the counter, letting Logan take his place.

“That was so hot,” Finn said.

“What?” Leo said, spreading cream onto Logan’s cheeks.

“I don’t know, everything.” The equipment closet, the bathroom at Dumo’s, getting home to their bed. “I was just thinking about the Cup night. It was pretty fucking perfect.”

“Just think about when we have the Cup,” Logan said.

Leo shook his head as he tilted Logan’s chin up with his fingers. “I don’t even want to think about what the thing has been through, it is not going in our bed.”

“We can clean it before,” Finn said and Leo just scoffed.

“When does your plane leave tomorrow?” Logan asked, messing with a piece of Leo’s hair.

“Pretty early,” Leo started on Logan’s other cheek. “I’ll leave for the airport at seven. What about you guys?”

“I go to New York on Thursday, my Cup day is on Friday,” Finn said, looking up as he remembered. “And then I’ll meet Lo at Harvard.” He grinned. “And then we’ll meet you in good o’l New Aw-leens after that for your Cup day, and then to Canadia for Tremzy.”

Logan snorted. “Canadia?”

“I always want to say that because of Canadian. America gives you Americans, but Canada doesn’t give you Canadans.”

“You’re so weird.”

“Shaving cream always looks like it would taste good,” Finn continued, as if he didn’t hear Logan. He reached out and swiped a finger along Logan’s jaw, gathering some of the white foam. “But it really doesn’t.”

“I could try doing it with whipped cream,” Leo said.

Logan just looked between them, bewildered. “Just get this thing off.”

Seeing Leo’s bags by the door did something to Finn’s chest. He knew exactly where he was going, and knew he was coming back, but it caused a thin string of worry to begin to unspool itself in his chest. Hockey wasn’t the securest job in the world, and he knew they were all highly valued by the Lions—they had just won a Cup—but still. Finn worried. He would always worry, especially now. He was in love now. He was locked in.

Leo looked up from counting through his wallet, ID, and printed out ticket.

“Alright,” he smiled. “See you there?”

“Call us when you land,” Logan said. “You have to call us when you land or else I’m gonna, like…”

“He’ll freak out,” Finn said.

Logan smushed Leo’s cheeks with his hands. “I’ll freak out.”

“I’ll text you before the wheels even hit the ground,” Leo said, leaning down for a kiss. “How’s that, Lo?”

Logan leaned into Leo’s body, into the kiss, and Finn loved that. “Okay.”

When the door shut behind him, Logan sighed. “I’m going to be all alone in this apartment until my flight.”

Finn smiled, wrapping his arms around Logan from behind. “That’ll be, like, four hours.”

“Still.”

Finn’s hands traveled down to below Logan’s sweatpants band. He was still warm from being in bed, from taking Leo’s cock that morning. “At least you have something to think about until we’re together again. And then we’ll give Nut something to think about until we get to Louisiana.”

It made Logan smile. “Yeah…”

“Come help me pack,” Finn said and kissed Logan’s neck.

“You suck at packing.”

“I know, that’s why I need help.”

Finn laughed when Logan groaned, but followed him into the bedroom.

They were bringing the Cup back to Harvard. Finn had spent the majority of his day with the Cup in New York City. His parents were there, and Alex, and there was a parade. He’d wanted his boys with him, though. And now Logan was here, waiting for him in the summer night heat in front of an already rowdy OKN that was anticipating the Cup’s arrival.

The last time Finn had stood in this driveway, Logan had said goodbye. Finn had pulled over the second he had gotten off of campus because he couldn’t see. Standing there, in front of their old house and holding the Cup, the flashbacks of sitting and crying with his forehead against the steering wheel, feeling like his lungs were trying to burn up, wasn’t exactly welcome.

“Mon coeur,” Logan whispered as he approached Finn. He clapped a hand on Finn’s shoulder, a perfectly friendly gesture to any onlookers who couldn’t feel the way his fingers slipped beneath the neck of Finn’s t-shirt. “I know.”

Finn looked at him, flexing his fingers against the Cup’s rim. “I love you, Lo.”

Logan was wearing one of his old Harvard hats, flipped backwards. He had a gray t-shirt on and black shorts that cut just above his knee. His Nikes were ones that he’d had since Freshman year. He looked just like he had then. He looked just as he had when Finn couldn’t have him.

“I love you,” Logan said now.

Most of their old teammates were there, having traveled back just for this, and were already well on their way to drunk. Finn forced himself to push the feelings aside—he was used to doing that in this house. He raised the Cup above his head and shouted along with the rest of them, with Logan. Finn could hear his own heart more than he could hear the shouts of welcome and elation. He could feel the sweat beading down his back and temples more than he could register himself setting the Cup down on a high table, among beer cans. Most of the guys here wouldn’t dare touch it out of bad luck, but they started up a round of We Are The Champions anyway. Finn felt too hot and too cold all at once, looking around at the familiar house. Logan was shaking people’s hands, people were shaking Finn’s hand, and clapping him on the back. He walked around and he was smiling, and laughing. He was handed a drink, and then another, and he was cracking jokes to make others laugh. And something felt like it was blocking part of his throat. What air he could draw was clammy. He had lost Logan about an hour in. The Cup was gleaming on its card table pedestal. It looked too bright. Everything looked a little too bright. He put his drink down.

“Where are the drinks at?” he asked a sandy-haired guy. He needed water.

“Kitchen, man,” the guy grinned. “Knock yourself out, you deserve it.”

Finn looked for Logan, but still didn’t see him.

“Thanks,” he said instead.

The kitchen was only more shouts and bodies, more back slaps. It felt even hotter with the sun completely gone outside, like there was nothing except this house, nothing except this feeling. Most people were too drunk to really talk to him, though. There were girls, too. Girls kissing his cheeks, their hands on the back of his neck—

And there was Logan. He had a bottle of rum in one hand, in the middle of pouring it over some coke and ice, and there was a girl pressed along his side. She had her hand on his chest, twisting his fleur-de-lis pendant in her fingers. Finn could see plainly that Logan was carefully trying to extract his body from hers. He had that slight smile on his face that he got when he was uncomfortable. He set the bottle down when he finished pouring his drink and stepped away, willing to talk, but that was all. There would be pictures, probably.

Finn remembered seeing Logan kissing a girl. He remembered a mouth against his own neck while he watched, and then Logan’s mouth against his, for the first time. He remembered Logan leaving, and he remembered going to sit in the car, waiting for him to come out—and sitting in the pulled over car, leaving Logan for Gryffindor, his stomach churning, memories blurring, he wanted him and he couldn’t have him and Logan said no—

Finn stumbled back a step just as Logan looked up. Harz. Finn watched Logan’s mouth say the word, but he couldn’t hear him. Finn turned, walking until he found a dark hallway, somewhere near the back of the house with the trash bins and dusty cleaning supplies. His fingers were shaking as he took out his phone. It only rang twice.

“Leo?”

“Hi, Harz,” Leo said. “Sheesh, big party, huh? I didn’t know college parties actually sounded like that.”

“I—” Finn wiped sweat from his forehead, pushing his hair back. He sort of wondered if he was going to pass out.

“Finn?” Leo said, more carefully this time.

“Leo—”

“Hey, sweetheart, hey, what’s wrong?”

Finn blew a breath out, glancing around the corner to make sure he was still as alone as he could get before ducking his head to his chest. “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong, I should be having fun. I tried to have fun.”

“Okay,” Leo said. The music was making his voice hard to hear. “That’s okay, is Lo with you?”

“Yeah,” Finn rasped. “I mean, no—I mean, he’s here somewhere.”

“Can you find Lo and then somewhere quiet for a second?”

“What the fuck is wrong? I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong, Harz, I think—I think it’s just tough on you being back at that house. I was thinking it might be, actually.”

“The house,” Finn repeated.

“Yeah,” Leo said. “Finn, I really want you to find Logan, okay? Logan can help you better than I can right now. Especially now. Okay, sweetheart?”

“Sorry, Knutty, you’re—” Finn dug his fingers into his eyes. “You’re with your family—”

“No, no, no,” Leo said. “I love you. Love you so much. Call me always, okay?”

“Okay,” Finn said. “I’m—”

“Harzy?”

Finn looked up. Logan was standing there, green eyes bright from the street lamps outside.

“Finn, ça va?”

“Lo’s here now,” Finn said into the phone. “Bye, Nut. Love you. Call you later.”

“Love you,” Leo said, and then hung up.

“It was Nut,” Finn said. He swallowed over his dry throat and shoved his phone back into his shorts. He pointed to Logan’s drink. “Can I have some of that?”

Logan glanced behind them, but the hallway was empty. He walked forward and handed Finn the plastic cup, hand between his shoulder blades.

“Harz…” Logan’s voice shifted into concern. “You’re burning up, what’s—”

Finn took a long swallow. It was all too sweet. “I’m just—it’s hot. I’m really thirsty.”

“Let me get you water,” Logan said. “Stay here, don’t move.”

Finn barely had time to set the cup down before Logan was back, cracking open a bottle of water for him. It was slick with condensation, and Logan held it to his lips when it nearly slipped out of Finn’s hand.

“Your heart’s pounding,” Logan said, hand still between Finn’s shoulder blades.

“I don’t know,” Finn said, and finished half of the bottle in one go. Logan’s thumb caught a drop from the corner of his mouth.

“What can I do?”

Finn let his head thunk back against the wall. “I don’t know.”

“Okay,” Logan said. “Okay…”

“I’m…” Finn began. He was sorry, he knew he was freaking Logan out. He could see it on his face.

Logan shook his head a little, but was quiet. He moved his palm from Finn’s back to Finn’s neck. It was cool from the water bottle and Finn rolled into it. He looked at Logan, and then reached forward and took the Harvard hat from his head. It made his hair fall forward, dusting gently near his eyes. It eased Finn’s heart.

“I need to breathe,” Finn said, and Logan seemed to know what he meant.

They were suppose to go to the roof. Finn needed air, he needed to not be in this stuffy house anymore, as seeped in hard memories as the carpet probably was in alcohol. But they both paused at the top of the stairs. The door to Logan’s old room was ajar, the one he’d had as a Junior. The year Finn had left.

“I asked about it,” Logan said hoarsely into the silence. “What’s-his-face said the guy living here’s abroad this semester.”

Finn could only nod.

The music from downstairs seemed far away as they walk inside. The bed was in the same place. The dresser, everything. There was the same metal trash bin. The whiteboard above the desk had never even been erased. It still had some guy’s schedule across it. Finn remembered the flight scheduled for Thanksgiving that he always chirped Logan for never erasing.

Finn turned away and only barely quieted the first breath of tears. They surprised him as much as a trip and a fall would.

“Finn,” Logan’s voice came out pained. “Finn…”

“Sorry,” his breaths were hitching too fast for his words. “It’s just a lot—like, looking,” he gestured vaguely to the bed where he’d held Logan for what had been the last time for a long time. A long time. “Looking at it all. Fuck, sorry.” Finn pressed his hand over his eyes, his other arm going around his stomach.

Logan was there in a moment, though, pulling his hands away from him, like tearing a wall down, and he held Finn tightly, pressed up on his toes to wrap his arms around him. Finn clutched him, crying into his neck.

“Lo.”

“I’m sorry,” Logan was crying, too. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“You don’t have to,” Finn began, but he really couldn’t speak. He could feel himself shaking only because Logan was so steady in that moment.

“Yes,” Logan said. “Yes, I do.” Logan pulled back, hands slipping to Finn’s neck and jaw. “I knew you were hurting. And you were hurting more than I was because you were okay with what you wanted. I wasn’t. I—on the phone, after you got to Gryffindor, you were crying.”

Finn shook his head, not to say no, or stop, but just against the onslaught of memories. They ached.

Logan wiped his eyes on his sleeve and then his hands were gentle on Finn again, wiping his wet cheeks. “I knew you were, and I didn’t say anything. I didn’t do anything.”

“It’s—”

“It’s not okay,” Logan said fiercely, then pressed forward and kissed Finn quickly. “It’s not okay. You never stopped being my best friend. Not for a second, and I should have been there, even if it was only as that. We should have talked. Like you wanted to. And I’m—” Logan’s voice broke. “Finn…”

Finn’s contact photo was one that Logan had taken of him secretly. In it, Finn was reading, slouched in a library chair across the table from him, his glasses on and his hair messy from a long bus ride, coming home from an away game. Logan had acted like he was on his phone, and snapped the picture, blushing despite himself.

Logan loved that picture.

Now, he could barely look at it.

It popped up, along with Finn’s name.

Call me when you get there. Logan wished he’d never said that. He took his headphones off and pushed his laptop screen down. And stared at his phone. It rang again, and again, and then Logan jolted and picked it up.

He opened his mouth to say something and froze again, breathing through his heartbeats. Maybe it wasn’t Finn, maybe he just wished it was and some robot spam voice was going to—

“Lo?”

Finn.

“Hello?” Logan managed, which was stupid, as if he didn’t know who it was. That was not how he answered Finn’s phone calls, ever.

“Hey, Lo,” Finn’s voice sounded soft, and so tired. “I’m at the hotel. In Gryffindor.”

“You made it.”

There was another handful of painful seconds, then, “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Logan breathed. “Yeah, good. Good.”

“Meeting some of the guys tomorrow.”

Logan nodded, eyes staring. “They’ll—love you.” The words choked him.

Finn didn’t respond for a long time, but Logan knew he was still there by his breathing. It was…it was like—

“Yeah,” Finn said, finally, and his voice was raspy, barely there. There was a sharp sound of breath.

Finn was crying.

“Yeah, it’s good,” Finn said again, and it was muffled, like he had a hand over his mouth.

Logan had a sudden, horrible image of Finn sitting in a hotel room, all alone, hunched over at the end of a cold bed, cheeks flushed beneath his freckles from tears, hand locked over his mouth so Logan wouldn’t hear.

Logan threw his hat off and pushed his hair off his forehead. He felt too warm. He needed to respond. They were just sitting there, on two ends of an invisible line.

“Tremz—” Finn started, and then there was another rush of breath through the speaker, like Finn couldn’t finish the sentence.

And Logan was still stuck, listening. He couldn’t listen to Finn cry. He couldn’t do it.

“Tell me what Black is like,” Logan said. “Call me later, if you want—” Logan clamped his mouth shut, briefly closing his eyes. “I—I’m really proud of you. You know that, though.”

Finn was really, really quiet then, like he’d pull the phone away entirely. Logan put a palm over his eyes. His head hurt. His chest hurt.

“Yeah,” Finn said. “Okay.”

“Bye, Harzy.”

There was an exhale that maybe had a goodbye in it somewhere, and then the line went dead.

Logan lowered his phone from his ear and stared at the screen. The call had lasted all of five minutes.

He clicked it off, closed his computer, and curled into his bed. He fell asleep, finally, with the lights still on.

Logan was stroking his hand through the back of Finn’s hair gently. Finn’s breathing had calmed, but he didn’t hold Logan any less tight, bent to tuck his face against Logan’s neck.

“I love you,” Logan whispered. “I loved you then and I love you now.”

Finn whispered it back.

“I’m sorry I pretended. I was scared.”

“I know. I was scared, too,” Finn replied.

He straightened, then, and looked at Logan. His head hurt a little, but he felt clearer. Logan looked ready to pull him back in again, and Finn would have let him—if they were really alone.

“Come to me tonight, okay?” Finn said. His nose was a little stuffed up from crying. “At the hotel. After we’re alone, and we’ll call Peanut, and just—sleep next to me.”

Logan nodded. As if he could do anything else.

“What do you want to do now?” Logan asked.

Finn sniffed, wiped his red eyes, but smiled. “Let’s go downstairs. We have the Cup, and…despite it all, this is where I found one of the loves of my life.”

Logan smiled and let Finn kiss him slowly.

“Let’s go enjoy this.”

“Finn,” Logan said before they left the room. “Tell me if you want to talk about it. Ever. Tonight. I will, I’ll talk about it with you. I don’t want you to feel what you just felt downstairs.”

Finn turned back around and took Logan’s face in his hands, kissing him soundly. “I don’t think that was about you. I think that was about me. You hurt me, and I hurt you,” Finn softened the words with another kiss. “But now we’re what helps each other. Yeah? Some people aren’t that lucky.”

Logan nodded. “Yeah.”

Logan knocked on Finn’s door about ten minutes after they had arrived at the hotel. It opened to reveal Finn wearing a gray Gryffindor t-shirt and sweatpants. Logan stood in the doorframe for a minute, socked-toes digging into the hotel carpet.

Finn stepped aside, closed the door once Logan had stepped in, and Logan tucked his fingers up and under Finn’s shirt, resting his cheek against his chest.

“Oh,” Finn laughed a little. “Hi.”

“They have video games on this TV.”

Finn scratched Logan’s scalp lightly, his other hand resting on his hip. “I’d own you, but you’re tired.”

“Non.”

Finn chuckled. “I can hear it in your voice.”

“You smell good.”

“Me?”

Logan nodded. “Like you.”

Finn rested his cheek in Logan’s hair. “I hope that’s a good thing.”

“It is,” Logan said. “Let’s call Nut.”

When Leo answered the phone, he was somewhere noisy, but he smiled when he saw the two of them sprawled out.

“Hey, baby,” Finn said. “Partying it up?”

Leo looked between the two of them knowingly and smiled. “I’m glad you two talked.”

Finn laughed. “How’d you know?”

“Logan’s got that look. It’s basically his I-just-scored-a-goal look, but it goes for this, too.”

Logan rested his head on Finn’s shoulder. “How are you?”

Leo looked around. “Good. Just at a family get-together. Eating, celebrating,” he tilted his head in the way Logan loved. “Missing my lover boys. Especially now that I’ve seen you. How are you?”

“Our party was…intense,” Finn wrapped an arm around Logan and kissed his temple. “We’re glad to be chilling, I think.”

Logan nodded, palm over Finn’s heart. “We miss you.”

“We really miss you.”

Leo pushed a hand through his hair. “Well, text me, okay? After you’ve,” Leo snorted. “consummated the hard talk.”

Logan laughed loudly, jostling Finn. He couldn’t deny that Leo was right. Logan needed that closeness right now. And by the way Finn held him closer at the words, he thought Finn did, too.

“Not during,” Leo said. “As much as I want it, I’m surrounded by cousins and shit right now.”

“If you’re sure,” Finn grinned.

Leo opened his mouth to respond, when the camera was yanked away from them to reveal a smiling Eloise Knut.

“Hi, boys! Oh, aren’t you two cozy.”

“Hi, Eloise,” Logan smiled. “Ça va?”

“Honeys, we’re so excited to have you coming to stay with us. Leo’s glaring at me for the phone.”

Finn laughed. “We’re excited, too.”

The screen was pulled back to Leo. He was closer now, and half-whispering a rush of words. “Okay, I love you, text me, feel free to send me pictures later, I’ll be all alone in my room.”

Finn touched his fingers to the phone camera, as if to touch Leo. “Love you, Butter.”

“Can’t wait to see you,” Logan leaned in close to the camera. “You look tan already. Fuck.”

Leo grinned, dropped a devastating wink, and hung up.

Finn set his phone down on the bedside table and looked at Logan. They were both quiet for a minute. The overhead light buzzed a little, but other than that, it was just them.

“Should we be cheesy and order champagne?” Finn asked softly, smile teasing.

Logan shook his head. “I don’t want to see anyone but you all night.”

Finn sighed, a sated huff of breath. “Lo.”

Logan reached up to brush his fingers along Finn’s jaw. “Viens ici.”

Finn didn’t seem to need a translation. He came, leaning forward slowly to brush their lips together. He stopped with a gentle laugh.

“Quoi?” Logan said, tilting his chin forward to press his mouth against Finn’s cheek.

“Why does it feel like I’m kissing you for the first time?” Finn murmured.

Logan looked at him, pulling back only enough to do it. Finn’s eyes were still closed, dark eyelashes ending it a lighter, reddish blond color. He opened them then, looking back at Logan. Logan pushed Finn’s hair away from his eyes, a little long with the flurry of the playoffs, and smiled.

“It sort of does, yeah. Better than our actual first kiss.”

“No, I love our first kiss,” Finn eased Logan back into the pillows and crawled over him. “Knocked my fucking socks off.”

“I saw you with that girl,” Logan said, pushing his hands under Finn’s t-shirt. “I don’t know, I just…I couldn’t let you go. We had just pulled that all nighter, remember?”

“I thought about that today,” Finn said. “When I was…freaking out, I don’t know. And of course I remember,” Finn bent to press a kiss to Logan’s neck. Logan’s eyes slipped closed at the feeling.

“We made coffee at, like, three in the morning,” Logan whispered, holding Finn closer. His skin was warm, his mouth familiar. “We were in the kitchen.”

“I said you put too much sugar in your coffee,” Finn moved to the other side of Logan’s neck, kisses wet and loving.

Logan smiled at the memory, brows drawn together as he felt Finn’s teeth against his skin. “And I said,” Logan pushed Finn’s shirt up further, his other hand going to his thick red hair.

Finn laughed into his skin. “You said, I’m sweet, Harzy.” Finn drew back, then, eyes bright. “And I said, yeah, you are.”

“And you were standing right here,” Logan said, and tightened his thighs around Finn’s hips.

Finn dropped back to a whisper again. “And I swear to God, I almost kissed you.”

“I wanted you to.”

“I wanted you to want me to.”

“And then I went and left you in that room at the party.”

“You don’t get to fault yourself for those things,” Finn said. “Okay, baby, listen to me.”

Logan let Finn pull him into a sitting position, let him pull him into his lap. Finn lifted Logan’s shirt off, throwing it somewhere in the room, and then picked up his fleur-de-lis pendant and kissed it, then kissed where it rested on Logan’s chest.

“Fucking girls touching this thing all night,” Finn grumbled, and Logan watched him kiss it a few more times with a smile before looking up.

“I love you. I love you and it’s okay now. It’ll take time, but it is okay,” Finn smiled when Logan kissed the words in his mouth. “I love you so fucking much, it’s insane.”

Logan kissed Finn’s lower lip gently and let it bounce back into place. “I’m never going to leave you like that.”

“I forgive you,” Finn whispered. “Can you forgive me?”

Logan paused. “What do I have to forgive you for?”

Finn raised an eyebrow. “Takes two to tango.”

Logan shifted. “Finn…”

“We went through it. Let me love you instead of us punishing ourselves for being, you know. Scared.”

Logan tangled his fingers in the hair at the back of Finn’s neck. “You’re so smart,” Logan said. He watched as Finn played with the necklace again, letting it rest against his palm. “I wish people who think they know you knew that.”

Finn let the pendant go and finally kissed him. Logan felt the silver fall against his chest. He tightened his grip around Finn’s neck as Finn eased him back into the pillows, mouth all heat and insistence.

“This could be our first kiss that we’ve forgiven ourselves for,” Finn said.

Logan kissed Finn again. “Yes.”

“You get quiet when you know I’m right.”

“You get loud.”

Finn laughed into their next kiss, and Logan did, too, and Logan liked that the best.

“Love you,” Finn said softly. His eyes were happy, and if Logan was still worried about him from earlier, it was gone with that look. He could feel Finn’s cock through their sweatpants, could feel his heart when he pressed his lips to his neck.

Logan stroked his hands down Finn’s broad back. He grabbed the hem of Finn’s shirt and pushed it up until Finn himself had to sit up, tugging it over his head. He was pale, and a little burnt at his neck and biceps from parading the Cup around New York in the summer. Logan had to sit up and kiss the pink skin.

“I got burnt,” Finn said.

“No kidding,” Logan huffed out a laugh, but he kept his kisses tender. “Is this what love is? I find it cute that you got sunburned?”

“Yep,” Finn smiled. “It’s also wanting to get fucked by your sunburned lover.”

“Well, yeah,” Logan tilted his head up, arms around Finn’s hips. “I thought that was obvious.”

Finn laughed and rocked back onto the bed so he could get his pants off, but Logan beat him to it, lunging forward and bracketing him in with his arms.

“Oh, hi,” Finn said. “You wanna do it for me?”

“Yes,” Logan said, and bent to press his lips to Finn’s chest. He kissed down the center, then over to one hip, and then the other. He rubbed Finn through his sweatpants, heart quickening at the glimpses of the trail of red hair he got, leading down to his hard cock. He rubbed the heel of his palm along Finn, the material of his sweatpants dragging taut. Finn let out a breath, head falling back on the mattress for a moment before he reached to tangle a hand in Logan’s hair.

“I used to think about you all the time when I got off,” Logan said, and pulled Finn’s sweatpants down just enough to mouth right above his cock. “Even when you were just across the room in your bed.”

Finn smiled, then pulled a lip between his teeth. “I’m pretty sure we heard each other more than a few times.”

Logan remembered it well. The soft shifting of sheets in the dark, Finn’s short pants of breath, and himself plumping up in response. Hearing Finn like that had been as much frustrating as it had been a relief. Logan remembered pressing his cheek into his pillow, trying to keep himself silent when he could tell the exact moment Finn was about to come, and the moment when he did. It was like being able to tell when Finn was going to pass to him, or score. There was the sharp intake of breath, his hand froze, and then he would make a single, soft noise, and pick up his pace again. One night, when the moon had been bright and Logan had been facing the right direction, he’d been able to watch Finn’s chest heave with it, pale in the milky light.

He didn’t have to be quiet now, and he could look all he wanted.

Logan pulled Finn’s sweatpants down and wrapped a hand around his cock. He looked up at him as he wrapped his lips around the head and then closed his eyes. A moment later, he felt Finn suck in a breath, felt his thumb brush over the delicate skin under his eye.

“You’re gorgeous, you know?” Finn said softly. “Oh—”

Logan sunk down further, hollowing his cheeks and relishing on the heat that spilled on his tongue. He got his knees under him more, cock throbbing with each brush of his own thigh, so he could raise to suck just the head into his mouth, then lower, just for a moment, until his lips brushed Finn’s balls. He pulled back and off for air and smiled a little, cheeks flushed. Finn had his head tilted back, his mouth open, panting with the brush of Logan’s throat.

“You’re so good,” Logan said, and sucked Finn down again. Finn moaned, hips pushing into Logan’s mouth. Logan sputtered a little but hooked his arms under Finn’s hips when he went to pull back and kept him there, bobbing his head faster.

“Logan,” Finn’s voice was tight, his name ending with a loud punch of breath. “Lo, baby, oh god.”

Logan pulled off with a gasp and leaned down to lick at Finn’s balls, taking one into his mouth, then the other. His cock was making a mess inside his own sweatpants as he took Finn down again. He was a warm, solid weight on his tongue, and Logan wanted him inside. Logan sucked hard once more, then looked up at Finn.

“Fuck me,” Logan said. “Harzy.”

Finn’s arms looked a little shaky as he pushed himself up into a sitting position and when Logan laughed, Finn slapped his chest before pushing him onto his back.

“I love you,” Finn said, and hovered above him. He was on his forearms so that his hands could stroke through Logan’s hair, and his kisses were open-mouthed and sloppy. “Oh, I love you.”

Finn was dripping on Logan’s thighs, darkening the material of is sweatpants.

Logan reached blindly in the direction of the bedside table. “Lube.”

“Let me get it, I’ll get it,” Finn was breathless, pink from his cheeks to his neck.

Logan let Finn roll away, and brought his ankles up to kick off his sweatpants. On the way back down, Finn was back and he caught Logan’s ankles, grinning as he pulled them to rest on his shoulders.

“This is new,” he said.

Logan laughed. “Kinda hot, too.”

Finn tilted his head to kiss along one of Logan’s calves. He bit lightly at the muscle on the inside of his knee.

“Didn’t know I had a thing for jocks, but…” Finn ran his palm over the swell of Logan’s ass appreciatively. “Between Leo and you…okay, then.”

“Hm,” Logan hummed, pressing his calves down on Finn’s shoulders to lift his ass up towards him. His cock was a dark, neglected red against his stomach. “You look so good, c’mon.”

“Keep telling me I’m good and I might just come.”

“Non, don’t.”

Finn pushed his hips forward so that the wet tip of his dick dragged messily against Logan’s entrance. “Non?”

Logan’s eyes slipped closed and his grin felt a little drunk. “Harz.”

Finn smiled, kissed the inside of Logan’s ankle, then wrapped his arms around Logan’s legs to keep them there while he clicked open the lube. “Okay, here we go.”

Logan settled back into the pillows. “I used to pretend it was you when I did this to myself.”

Finn’s fingers worked slowly and Logan bit his lip.

“When?” Finn’s voice came softly.

“Shower,” Logan said. “Sometimes—sometimes at night. With you right there. My stupider decisions.”

“I knew it,” Finn said, and twisted his fingers just so, making them both smile when Logan let out a low moan.

“Accidentally said your name once.”

Finn’s gaze snapped to his, his fingers stilling. Logan could remember it almost perfectly. The blood-chilling dread that had followed after he’d let the word slip into their small room. Finn.

“Did you,” Logan curled his fingers over Finn’s thighs, voice dropping. “Did you hear me?”

Finn’s nod was slow, and his voice even softer. “Yeah.”

And then Finn was leaning forward, Logan’s legs falling against his sides so that they could press together.

“Say my name now,” Finn whispered.

Logan’s breath hitched as he felt the head of Finn’s cock at his entrance. “Finn.”

“Say it again,” Finn’s mouth dragged up his neck, and Logan still didn’t know what it was about that. It made him crazy.

Logan clutched at him. “Finn.”

Finn pressed inside him slowly, and Logan didn’t need him to ask again.

“Finn,” Logan’s voice rose, and then broke over his name as Finn drew back and then into him again, and again.

“This is what I pictured when I heard you,” Finn murmured, shoving their hips together in slow, long rocks. “God, Logan.”

Logan wound his legs and arms around him. His palms slipped on Finn’s slick back. Finn smelled like sweat and himself. Logan had fallen asleep to that scent on bus rides when he couldn’t touch him, he scored goals to that scent when Finn, soaked with sweat and adrenaline, would crash him into the boards. Logan heard himself make some sort of broken sound, because Finn was going to be all over him after this, inside of him.

“I love you, Lo,” Finn said, arms around Logan’s back and shoulders, his knees against his hips. Finn fucked like he never needed to stop, like they were wound together so tightly they’d never separate.

“I love—” Logan’s back arched up against Finn on its own when Finn jammed his prostate. “Ah—”

His cock ached with every brush of Finn’s chest against his own, until Finn finally reached between them and wrapped a hand around him. Logan’s breathing hitched and his eyes felt suddenly wet.

“I love you.”

Finn forgave him. Finn forgave him.

Logan held on tighter, finding Finn’s mouth with his own, and said it again. “I love you.”

Logan came between them suddenly. Finn licked into his slack mouth, but Logan pressed him closer when he stilled, moving to pull out.

“Non, stay,” Logan panted, voice pitching up at the end of his word, then giving out as his orgasm shook through him. “Stay.”

Finn stayed, smiling. “You’re never one-and-done, are you?”

Logan’s smile felt delirious. “Good thing I have two of you—fuck, do that again.”

Logan’s fingers tangling into Finn’s sweaty hair, and they kissed as Finn rocked into Logan gently.

“Think about when we’re all together again,” Finn whispered.

“Stay,” Logan said.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Stay.”

“Shh, baby,” Finn whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth. His movements were gentle, and small enough so they were never apart. “I’m here.”

Logan’s cock dripped steadily between them as Finn brushed his prostate over and over, and Logan felt wound tight and boneless, all at once.

“Oh, Lo,” Finn groaned, and flexed his hips into Logan harder.

Logan kissed Finn’s neck, teeth scraping into his skin. Logan felt surrounded by him.

“I’m coming,” he found himself saying, because it felt like he still was. Finn’s cock was rubbing up consistently against his walls, and his own cock was red in the tacky pool of come on his stomach. Logan could hear himself panting for breath. His muscles still felt tight, his toes curled against Finn’s calves. He groaned, head falling back against the pillows instead, pushing himself up against Finn’s cock, heavy inside of him.

“Logan,” Finn’s voice was shaky. “Lo, I’m gonna—” he said, and then wet heat filled Logan up. Finn fucked in one more time and stayed there, forehead pressed to Logan’s.

The heat that tore through him made him dig his nails into Finn’s back. Finn was making soft noises as his cock pulsed, and Logan could feel some drip down between his thighs.

Finn was stroking his hair back from his forehead, sweaty and hot, and kissing his jaw. Logan tucked himself against Finn. He was too big, too broad, really, but Finn covered him up with his body, kissing him and all but melting them together. Finn pressed in one last time with a low sound, and then fell against Logan’s chest. They breathed hard against each other in the aftershock, kissing slowly, languidly.

Finn pulled out when he was too sensitive, and Logan rolled them over, thigh thrown over Finn’s hips to kiss him some more. He kissed Finn’s cheeks, and his neck, and every part of skin he could reach without having to pull away. He left marks, smudges that said he had been there—even if no one else would know. He would know. He would be proud, and he would be happy.

Finn, unusually, melted back against the sheets and let Logan do as he wanted. He lay back when Logan told him to. When Logan went to the bathroom and cleaned them up. When Logan came back, pulling the covers over them and laying on his back, it was Finn’s head against his chest and Logan’s hand stroking through his hair.

“Today,” Finn began, and then hesitated. “Today freaked me out.”

“I know, I could tell,” Logan said. “You’re allowed to be freaked out. You’ve watched me and Leo both freak out and been there for us. Let us be there for you. What can I do?”

Finn’s fingers were fidgeting with Logan’s necklace. “I think I’ll be okay. I just didn’t know that would happen.” Finn raised his chin to look up at him. “We’ve come a long way from hard nights,” he smiled. “Not to say there won’t be more but…”

Logan cupped his cheek. “We can talk to each other. We can say that we love each other.”

Finn smiled, just a little. “Says the boy who hates talking.”

Logan smiled, too, leaning in to brush their lips together. “Yeah, but I love hearing you talk. And read. And moan my name—”

Finn tilted his chin up to kiss some more before pulling Logan more firmly against him.

“We get to see Nutter tomorrow.”

Logan hummed. “Think he just walks around naked because it’s so hot?”

Finn snorted. “Probably not. It’s a nice thought though.”

“Thinks he has a million bookshelves?” Logan smiled at the thought, of Leo curled up in his childhood room, of Leo showing them everything he had ever loved before he loved them.

“Oh, definitely.”

“Yeah. What did he say when you called him?”

“Told me to find you,” Finn raised his head. “Listen, I didn’t call Leo because I didn’t think you could help. I just…I need him just as much as I need you.”

“You don’t have to explain,” Logan hushed him. “I’m the same. And also I’m…I don’t know how to say it other than, I was part of the problem.” He kissed Finn softly. “I know.”

“Okay,” Finn said, and pressed back against Logan, nose against his neck. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

Logan just held him tighter. “I won’t.”

They were both groggy from the plane. Logan had his headphones around his neck and his hat shoved into the elastic side pocket of his backpack.

“I can feel the humidity already,” Logan said. “Where’s Nut?”

Finn took out his phone. “He can’t exactly get through security. Arrivals, probably. I texted him that we landed. He didn’t—oh, he said he’s walking from parking now.”

Logan jumped once, keeping in pace with Finn. “I want him. How long do you think we’re going to be surrounded by family? Not that I don’t love them but fuck.”

“Stop it, you’re getting me going.”

Logan sent him a sleepy smile as they followed the signs to arrivals.

And there Leo was, standing in a t-shirt and shorts with a backwards hat on—not Lions colored, as if that would help him not get recognized if someone knew what they were looking for. His sunglasses were folded into his shirt and he was searching the crowd in his careful way.

“Oh, fuck me,” Logan heard Finn breathe.

Logan gave Finn a small shove. “C’mon, let’s see how close we can get before he sees us.”

Not very close. A second later, Leo was grinning at them. They walked forward quickly and stopped right in front of him. Logan’s heart was pounding.

“Hi,” Leo sounded breathless.

Their hugs weren’t what they would have been away from prying eyes, but Finn clutched Leo as hard as he could, whispering in his ear.

“We missed you so much. So fucking much.”

Logan watched them for a moment and then Leo was turning to him.

“Hi, Tremz.”

Logan wanted to kiss him, wanted to curl his fingers under his shirt to the small of his back where he was always warmest. Instead, he let Leo pull him in for a quick hug.

“Flight was okay?” Leo asked, and took their suitcases from them. When they looked at him, he laughed. “What?”

“Nothing,” Logan said softly, and he and Finn shared a look as they watched Leo lead the way outside. They loved him.

Logan froze after they stepped out of the airport. He held his hands up, as if testing for rain.

“Are—” he began, then looked up. “Are we under a heater?”

Leo laughed. “No. That’s NOLA for you.”

“Oh god,” Logan said faintly.

Finn, however, walked right into the sunshine and tilted his head up. “I will never be cold again.”

“You’ll get sunburned, though,” Logan grumbled.

“Aw, Harz,” Leo said, then more softly, “Love you. C’mon, boys, car’s this way.”

Leo lead the way towards the parking lot, and walked ahead a little when he got out his keys and his car lit up.

Logan felt his steps slow, and Finn’s beside him.

“Leo—Leo drives a Jeep,” Finn said softly to Logan.

“Leo drives a Jeep,” Logan repeated.

“I’m…”

“Yeah.”

The top was open to the air, windows down. Leo swung the suitcases into the trunk, and Logan watched his muscles move beneath his shirt.

“I want…” he grumbled and Finn laughed, squeezing the back of his neck.

The moment they were in the car, Leo in the driver’s seat with Finn beside him, Logan leaned forward from the back and wrapped his arms around Leo the best he could, burying his nose into the place where his curls fanned out around his ears. Logan hummed, pressing kiss after kiss there.

“Tremz, you’re killing me here,” Leo laughed, then turned his face, shaded by the car and some thick trees, and let Logan kiss him. The angle was awkward, and Logan knew he was using way too much tongue, but Leo melted back into his seat for it. Finn reached forward to put a hand on his neck.

“You are tan,” Finn said. “How do you do that?”

Logan had a sudden urge to see where the sun hadn’t reached.

“Okay, okay,” Leo laughed between kisses. “Let me get us out of here.”

Logan just dipped his head down a little farther and nipped at Leo’s neck, just over Finn’s fingers.

“Tremz,” Leo said, leaning into it.

“D’accord,” Logan said, and sat back. “That’ll be okay for now.”

“Well, don’t I get a snack before dinner, too?” Finn said, and then pulled Leo in and kissed him—albeit more gently than Logan had.

“Hi, Butter,” he smiled.

“My name is just slowly devolving into food products,” Leo smiled. “Hi.”

Leo unfolded his sunglasses and slid them on, pushing the button to start the car. “Ready?”

“So fucking ready,” Finn said, and put his sunglasses on, too.

Logan tilted his head back and closed his eyes, letting the overwhelming heat sink in. “Allez.”

Leo’s house was bright and large, all creams and whites. There were thick, white columns, and the entire front was framed by two turreted, oriel windows. There was a gate, and then oak trees, cypresses and small white flowers that cascaded over the porches and steps.

“Well Jesus,” Finn said, standing up a little in his seat. “Not what I was expecting.”

Leo glanced up at him as he pulled through the round about. “No?”

“I mean…” Finn laughed. “I don’t know.”

“C’est très beau,” Logan said, pushing himself up using the back of Leo’s seat. “Fuck me, it’s hot.”

Leo turned the car off. “Let’s get out of the sun. I’m sure my mom—”

“There they are!”

They looked up to one of the great, wooden doors opening. Eloise and Wyatt stepped out, Wyatt more calmly than his wife. Eloise was waving to them with both arms.

“Yep,” Leo laughed. “C’mon.”

“Oh, Finn,” Eloise said when they climbed the porch steps and into the shade of the overhang. “You won’t last a second in this sun, honey, let’s get you inside.”

Finn smiled. “Yeah, sunscreen is big in my family.”

“Logan,” Eloise smiled and hugged him, too. “I’ve got some iced tea and lunch all ready.”

Logan stared up at the entrance hall, all high ceilings and clean tiles and dark wood. There were shawls hanging on hooks by the door, mingled with leaning hockey sticks. Logan recognized Leo’s favorite Nikes. He was suddenly very aware that Leo lived here. It was sort of like getting used to coming home to him everyday. But this was Leo’s, and it had been Leo’s for years and years. Logan wanted to walk through every room and look for little signs of him.

“We have the dining room, sure,” Wyatt smiled, gesturing to it. “But, I don’t know, we always liked the kitchen better it being just the three of us and all. Come on through, boys.”

“We’ll eat, and then you can take showers or a nap or whatever you want,” Eloise said.

Oh, yeah, Logan thought. Whatever we want.

“This looks amazing,” Logan said as they walked into the kitchen.

The table was half surrounded by chairs, and half by a curved window seat in one of the oriel windows. The table itself was laden with pressed, pork paninis, along with what looked like creamy side dishes, and vegetable salads.

“Thank you, Tremzy,” Eloise’s smile was wide. “You all sit down, me and Wyatt’ll get the silverware and the pie.”

It was cool inside and Logan let out a breath when he scooted into the window seat after Finn had, and then Leo. He watched them smiling at each other as Leo put two sandwiches on Finn’s plate and poured him some tea. It made Logan smile, too. He was about to reach for the sandwiches when Leo turned to him.

“You want two, too?” Leo said softly. His accent sounded stronger, maybe from being around family.

Logan nodded, feeling helpless and in love. “Yeah, sure.”

“You want tea?”

“Ouais.”

“You two okay? You’re all quiet.”

Logan looked at Finn, who laughed.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been better in my life,” Finn said.

“Well—good,” Leo said.

Logan glanced at where Leo’s parents were coming back over.

“We’ll tell you later.”

The food was delicious, but what Finn really loved was how, when they were done, Leo helped bring all of the plates over and then began silently sort of trying to wave them out of their seats and towards the main staircase.

“Alright, well, see you boys, then,” Wyatt laughed. “Leo, I don’t want you to have the boat out too late, so keep that in mind.”

Eloise smiled. “Oh, they have time. It’s a big house, don’t worry about anything.”

“Mama,” Leo said. “And dad, you just ruined the surprise!”

Wyatt whistled. “Oh, damn, sorry…”

“We’ll be over at the Bailey’s next door for drinks, okay? See you boys when you get back,” Eloise said.

Leo groaned and took one of both their hands, pulling them towards the stairs. “Okay, okay, we’re going now.”

Finn sent Eloise a last grin, which probably didn’t thwart her ideas at all, and let Leo pull him away.

They climbed the stairs too close together, their feet barely missing each other.

“This house is so cool,” Logan said. “I see why you miss it. It feels like home.”

“Yeah,” Finn said, eyeing the bookshelves that lined the hallway they were going down, caught in dusty light between windows. “I like it here.”

And they were finally alone.

Finn used Leo’s hand to pull him into his chest, and kissed him hard. Leo sighed into it, and Finn felt Logan at their sides a moment later.

“Leo,” Logan urged, and then Finn was watching them kiss. It was like breathing.

“Missed you two,” Leo panted when Logan finally let him go. “Jesus.”

They stood there between the sun streaks coming through the window, swaying a little together.

“Lo, do you want to take your shower?”

Logan raised his head from Leo’s chest and looked up at him. “What?”

Leo nodded his head in what Finn assumed was the direction of the nearest bathroom. “You take showers after you go on planes.”

Logan’s expression went soft.

“You can,” Leo said. “But then we’re going out.”

Logan’s eyebrows drew together. “Out?”

“Yeah,” Leo’s smile was slow and he began tugging them down the hall. “I wanna show you guys stuff. Take you out to dinner.”

“But I haven’t seen you in…” Logan asked. “And I need to go out into public right away?”

“Not that we won’t have time for that,” Leo stopped in front of a door. “But that can happen at dinner. You think I’m not dying, too?”

“At dinner,” Finn repeated, then looked at Logan. “He says we can have sex at dinner, Leo, how the hell can we have sex at dinner, where are you taking us?”

Leo grinned and sat up. “You’ll see. Lo?”

“I don’t want to shower, I want to have sex at dinner apparently,” Logan said, then pulled Leo closer. “I just want to be with you.”

Leo toured them all around, drove them through wide and narrow streets, watched as Logan purchased some sort of rum-filled, sugary drink that Logan forced Finn to take a sip of. There were beads hanging from trees, colorful and glinting in the sunlight.

The sun was beginning to lower in the sky, the heat receding a little, when they pulled up to the docks.

It made Leo golden as he pulled two coolers from the trunk, and then walked them down the boards. Logan couldn’t look away.

“Here she is,” Leo grinned, and gestured towards a small motorboat, glossy white with wake-boards hooked to the top, and leather seats. “Our restaurant for the night.”

“Oh,” Finn said. “I see.”

“Sex on a boat,” Logan nodded.

“Dinner on a boat,” Leo said.

Logan walked forward and wrapped his arms around him. “You on a boat.”

Leo smiled before climbing carefully aboard and setting the coolers down by the steering wheel. “C’mon.”

Finn gave Logan a little shove as he was climbing into the boat, but laughed when Logan flinched, holding tightly onto his shoulders.

“Mais, non!” Logan laughed as they jostled each other onto the slightly more solid ground. He shoved him back once they were on firm footing. “Harz.”

Finn laughed and fell back onto one of the leather seats, warmed by the sun. “Now I see, we’ll be in the surrounded by water. If some type of water police catches us, is that bad?”

“Water police?” Leo laughed. He sent Logan a soft smile when Logan began helping him untie the ropes and bring the buoys in.

Finn grinned. “Well, now you’re both going on sailor on me. Untying rope.”

Leo snorted and threw a loop of his rope over Finn’s head, pulling until it pulled Finn’s neck forward lightly.

“Sailor, huh?”

Finn smiled lazily up at him. “Yeah.”

Logan wished they were out on the water already, so he could kiss Leo like he wanted to, but instead he settled for helping him push the boat away from the docks while Leo started the engine. He’d flipped his sunglasses down over his eyes, and Logan followed.

“You’ve been on a boat before, Tremz,” Leo said when Logan came to stand beside him at the wheel. Leo was perched on the top of the chair, long legs stretching down to the ground. He looked relaxed and happy.

“Yeah, at home. My friend had one growing up. We’d go out on the lake in the summer. Fish sometimes, or swim.”

They were pulling away from the land, and every second made Logan happier. The wind picked up with the engine until they were flying. Finn shouted over the roar and Logan looked back, squinting in the sun as he tried to smile for the phone Finn was holding up. He probably looked stupid, but he didn’t care. Because now the docks were small, the shore was far away, and he could push against Leo’s side. The wind was cool, and Leo’s chest through his t-shirt was sun-warmed. Logan pressed his nose against him. He smelled like the sun, too. Leo kissed his forehead, one hand on the wheel, and one around Logan’s back. Logan hoped Finn was taking a picture of this, too. Logan had never really hoped for pictures before.

“Love you,” Leo said, voice close to his ear to be heard.

Logan tilted his head against Leo’s chest and reached out to trace the muscles in his forearm that flexed as he steered the boat.

“Love you, too,” Logan replied.

Leo smiled and drew the speed down until the motor was a steady bubble, and the heat warmed the goosebumps on Logan’s arms from the wind.

“This is nice,” Finn sighed and Logan looked back to see him sprawled over a flat, padded area at the back of the boat, eyes closed.

There was some type of board walk in the distance, but mostly they were shaded by a ring of gnarled looking trees that made a U-shaped little cove. Leo dropped anchor, and they had it all to themselves. The sun was lower but still hot, and Leo pulled out a canopy from somewhere among the equipment above, pinning to the sides of the boat so that it stretched like a tent above them. It offered shade. Seclusion.

“Pre-dinner swim, what do you think?” Leo asked before stripping off his shirt.

“What?” Finn sat up. “I didn’t wear—”

The words died in his mouth, though, when Leo, practically smirking, undid the buttons of his shorts next. Logan felt his pulse jump at the sound of Leo slowly pulling his zipper down.

“Oh,” Finn said, then laughed.

“Yeah?” Leo asked.

“Ouais, ouais,” Logan said. “Leo.”

Leo grinned and reached for Logan again, pulling his t-shirt over his head for him, then leaning down for a kiss, hands on Logan’s chest.

“I’m just having fun imagining you planning this,” Logan heard Finn say. “‘I’m gonna get Finn and Logan on my boat, and then I’m gonna get them naked, in the water, and then I’m gonna feed them dinner.’”

“You’ve never been skinny dipping before, Fish?” Leo said, pulling away, eyes lingering on where Logan was kicking off his shorts, too.

“Nope,” Finn said, rolling onto his back to push his shorts off before standing and ridding himself of his shirt. “But I’m extremely open to it. Sunscreen. I need sunscreen.”

Leo walked forward and wrapped his arms around Finn, tucking his hands right into his briefs to cup his ass. “Sun’s never seen this, huh.”

“First time for everything,” Finn said after a moment, and kissed Leo soundly as he pushed his briefs down.

Logan, to his own surprised, didn’t feel exposed standing there naked on Leo’s boat. The sun was orange, low enough to turn the clouds pink, and it dappled through the trees, making the water look smooth and inviting. He put one foot on the side of the boat and looked over. He could see the bottom, sandy and rocky, but it was deep enough to jump.

“I’m dating a couple of Greek gods,” Finn sighed. “Fuck, Tremz, you look like one of those statues. My own Patroclus and Achilles.”

Leo laughed. “Who does that make you?”

Finn looked into the water, too, before stepping up onto the padded back he was dozing on before. “Apollo, come to crash the party.”

And he jumped, making the boat rock.

Leo pressed up behind Logan, all skin on warm skin. “Ça va?”

“This heat’s gonna kill me,” Logan grinned, looking back and up at him. “Allez.”

Finn surfaced, shaking his hair out of his eyes. “Come on, it’s perfect here.”

Leo pressed up and over the side of the boat like a jump over the boards, before tucking himself neatly into a canon ball and giving Finn a face full of salty water.

“Come on, Lo!”

Finn and Leo looked up at him, and Logan could barely believe it all.

Logan didn’t jump into anything except fights. Throwing the gloves down was easy. There were time limits to the consequences, and they were never anything more than a few minutes. Everything else—who knew what would happen. Logan wasn’t a jumper. Finn was. Finn always had been. While Logan watched and waited and thought and didn’t, Finn loved and went and acted and did. And Leo…Leo jumped more than anyone gave him credit for. Logan hadn’t been eighteen when he got to the NHL, and he didn’t know how he would have turned out if he had been.

“It’s super nice,” Leo called up.

Finn splashed the water. “C’mon, baby.”

Logan smiled, looking down at them, and jumped. The water was beyond relieving. The salt stung his eyes a little, but it felt good, in the way salt water did. Logan knew it would dry on his skin later and feel even better. When he came up and shook the water from his eyes, Finn had dived down to touch the bottom and Leo was smiling at him.

“Nice?”

Logan pushed forward until he could wrap his arms and legs around Leo. He felt—clingy, he guessed. Since being apart. He could feel every part of Leo against him and Leo made a pleased sound.

“Very,” Logan said.

Leo let them float for a minute before they sank under the water again. Leo kissed him, surprising Logan with his eyes closed, and Logan had to come up for air and to laugh.

Finn floated beside him, the sky darkening a little and revealing the first of its stars. Logan looked up at the anchored boat, and thought about how they had all night.

“The Cup arrives tomorrow,” Finn said as they floated together.

Leo grinned. “Crazy. They’re throwing a parade for me. I think it’s gonna be insane.”

“You deserve all the parades,” Finn said.

Leo rolled his eyes but smiled. “I just wish…” he looked between them.

“You deserve that, too,” Logan said. “Whenever it comes.”

Leo’s smile was still happy, if not wistful. “Yeah.”

“I can’t believe we’re here,” Logan said. “And I mean here here, but also…here.”

“Better start believing it,” Finn tread closer and pulled Logan back against him. Logan laughed, but it was true. He did feel like he was starting—starting everything anew.

This could be the first kiss we forgive ourselves for, Finn had said.

And—Logan did. He forgave. He loved them.

They climbed up the ladder at the back of the boat a while later, limbs tired from racing and treading water, and Leo pulled towels out for them from under a seat. They were big and well-loved, and Logan got as much water out of his hair as he could before draping it over the front seats to dry and stepping back into his underwear.

“Just three naked dudes on a boat,” Finn said absentmindedly as he pulled his shorts back on. “It’s getting dark.”

“That’s why we have these,” Leo said and produced two lanterns and a few candles from another compartment that Logan hadn’t noticed. He hooked the lanterns to the ceiling and turned them on. They bathed everything in a soft, yellow light.

“Hungry?” he asked while lighting the candles.

“Yes,” Finn sighed. He grabbed Logan’s hand and pulled him down onto one of the seats, gathering him against his chest. Logan sunk back into it.

“Hey, Lo, smile,” Finn said, and then he had his phone out, camera flipped to show them. Finn ducked so that their cheeks were pressed together and pressed a palm over Logan’s heart. With Finn’s chest pressed to his back, Logan could feel Finn’s. They both looked sun-tanned and, even to himself, deliriously happy.

“Tremz, can you pull that part out there? It’s like a little table from the back just beside you.”

Logan leaned forward and found the plastic divot that Leo was gesturing to. It slid out from beneath the cushion and into a temporary table, which Leo, underwear now on, set the coolers on top of. He looked at the two of them.

“I’m about to blow your mind.”

“You do that often,” Finn said, fingers drumming on Logan’s thigh.

Leo smiled. “No. Really.” He opened the cooler and brandished it towards them. “Crab.”

Inside the cooler was ice and crab legs.

“Crab,” Finn repeated.

“The mind blowing part comes when you eat it. It’s in season. Now, here we’ve got potatoes and some corn and hopefully some of it’ll be warm but…I wanted it on the boat, so…small sacrifices. Got some beer, too, if you want it,” Leo pulled it out from below the ice, setting things on the table as he talked. Logan was going to kiss him.

“And I’ve got strawberry shortcakes,” Leo said, and he was blushing a little. “For my strawberry and my…”

“Shortcake,” Finn laughed.

Leo laughed and leaned down to kiss Logan’s scowl. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I laugh every time I think about it I had to, you’re not short, really.”

“You sound so convincing.”

“You’re not, but you sure are a cake,” Leo kissed him again, squeezing his thighs, and Logan smiled this time.

“I guess I can live with that,” Logan said, and kissed him back.

“Cream’s on ice, too, so that’s good. And…yep.” Leo reached into the cooler and held up what looked like a hammer. “Y’all know how to eat crab?”

“Why…is that hot,” Finn said, and Logan nodded. Leo just smiled.

They made a mess on top of the table cloth Leo had set out, laughing as they cracked the shells and sucked out the meat.

“I’m so bad at this,” Finn said, picking his way through one of the last bits.

“Here,” Leo leaned over and broke into the shell with practiced fingers.

“How?”

Leo smiled and shrugged.

Logan watched the two of them, finishing off his own. He looked around them in the darkness. They were lit by the candlelight now, and the lanterns. The sky still had some light, but the sun was below the horizon and it would soon be gone. It was like it was only the three of them in the world. The stars were plentiful and vast from where they were sitting in the back, but the lantern hanging in the center of the little canopy Leo had set up made it look like their own little tent, private and out of sight.

“Where did you fall?” Finn asked.

“When did I fall?” Leo said. “For you? Um. Probably when you—”

“Non, non,” Finn laughed softly. “Where. Where did you hit your head?”

Leo tilted his head. “What? Oh! Oh, getting onto the boat.” He pointed to the side, and then towards the steering wheel. “Hit my head on the windshield corner.”

Finn hissed through his teeth. “Ouch.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t pretty,” Leo said, but smiled as Logan reached out to touch the lighter hair.

“When did you fall, though?” Logan asked, and Leo smiled.

“I don’t know, exactly,” Leo kicked the cooler out from beneath the table and retrieved the strawberries and cream he had pointed to before, as well as three fluffy looking biscuits. “I guess just…doing stuff together.” Leo laughed as he prepared the desert, scooping strawberries onto the breads. “I sort of thought it was just adrenaline at first. Me wanting you, I mean. But then we were roommates, at home or away, and then we starting hanging out off the rink and…well, I loved you.” Leo pushed the plates towards them. “I loved you both.”

Logan tilted his head back, heart feeling tight again.

“I know we went back to Harvard,” Finn said suddenly. “And I know what you said about feeling like you missed out a while back. I don’t know, I just want to make sure you know that we missed you the whole time.”

“How,” Leo began, looking between them. “How are you now?”

Logan wasn’t sure which one of them he was talking to, but he looked back at Finn who tightened his arms around him.

“We got some stuff out,” Finn said, then laughed a little. “And I guess I sort of…let some stuff in.”

“And I said sorry,” Logan said.

“And I forgave you,” Finn kissed his cheek. “But also you forgave you.”

Logan rolled his eyes but smiled as he took a bite. “Yeah, I know.”

Leo leaned back in his seat, smiling at the two of them. “Good.”

Finn sighed. “And then this one came, like, three times.”

Leo laughed out loud. “That is his way.”

Logan groaned. “I can’t help it.”

“Oh, baby,” Finn laughed. “We don’t want you to help it.” Then, he looked back up at Leo. “But, really. We missed you, Peanut.”

“We don’t like being without you.”

“Me too,” Leo said softly. “I don’t know, I just…it’s funny being in the NHL, in Gryffindor, and then coming home to aunts and uncles and older cousins. Like, to them, I’m still just sort of nineteen. And I am nineteen, but…I don’t know I’ve been feeling like I used to feel. Being home. Being without you.” Leo looked out at the water. “Like I’m right back where I started, not out to anyone except my parents, just some kid with this really tedious dream and sort of—ready to be lonely forever.”

“Leo,” Logan said.

Leo looked at them and laughed a little, pushing his hair back. “That was my long way of saying that I missed you, too. And in saying that…” he bit his lip and stood. “I have something.”

“You have something?”

Leo waved his hand as he bent at the floor, popping up a storage pit. “Planned, I have something planned. That I’ve always wanted to do with…well, with a boyfriend. Boyfriends.”

Logan looked back at Finn. “Boyfriends.”

Then, Leo started pulling out blankets. And pillows. His smile was giddy as he lay them out beneath the canopy, the boat rocking gently, and the pillows piled high. Leo gestured to it with both hands when he was done.

“Sex on a boat.”

“That sounds like the name of a tropical drink,” Finn said.

Logan nodded. “I’m in.” He stood, the blankets soft beneath his bare feet as he walked over the bed to pull Leo to him. “You’re so…”

“Sweet?” Finn said, and Logan smiled.

“Oui.”

Finn took one step up and then fell into the center of the blankets, stretching out on his back. Leo took Logan by the hands, sitting down and pulling Logan down with him. Logan sank slowly, knees straddling Leo’s hips, laying his head against Leo’s chest.

Finn turned onto his side so he was closer to them and ran a hand through Logan’s hair. “Leo hog.”

“Va te faire,” Logan grumbled and raised an eyebrow when Finn made a face. “You don’t know what I said.”

“Tone of voice,” Finn laughed. “Move over a little, then, I missed him, too.”

Leo put an arm out for Finn to roll into, face tucking against his shoulder. “I’ll just sit here watching y’all fight over me.”

Logan leaned down to press kisses to Finn’s face at the same time Leo did, and Finn made a soft sound.

“Look at you,” Leo laughed and wrapped his arm more tightly around Finn. “Letting us snug you.”

Finn laughed a little, too, but it was different somehow in Logan’s ears. Something was bothering him. “I let you snug me.”

“Yeah, for a second, and then you snug us.”

“We snug each other.”

Logan snorted and met Leo’s eyes over Finn’s head.

“Well, fine, fine.” Leo stroked Finn’s hair, cheek resting at Finn’s temple. “This is nice, though.”

Finn just pushed closer and Logan reached out a stroke his fingers over his neck. They were quiet, full and sun-tired and sated, until Finn sat up on the blankets and turned to face them, cross-legged.

“Guys,” Finn began.

“Hm?” Leo responded.

Logan pushed himself up onto a forearm on Leo’s chest. Something was wrong.

“I was thinking…” Finn cleared his throat. “I was thinking.”

“Who, you?” Logan tried, seeing if Finn would smile. When he did, Logan’s chest eased a little.

“I was thinking about trying something.”

“Okay,” Leo said. “Sure, what is it?”

Finn let out a shaky breath. Then, he looked between them.

“You and Lo,” Finn began. “You two like it when I fuck you and…I don’t know, maybe—I’d…like it, too.”

Logan felt his entire body flush with a spike of heat. It was a like his heart tried to slow down and speed up all at once, like a full-force tug. Oh.

Finn looked down at his hands. The top of his nose and cheeks were a little red from the sun, his hair curly from the salt, and he wanted—

Logan let himself drop back down, forehead against Leo’s shoulder. He was turned on. He was dizzy with it.

“Finn,” Leo’s voice was faint, his fingers pressing into the skin of Logan’s bare back.

“We don’t have to tonight,” Finn said. “I’d seriously be happy, more like fucking elated, with any and all, I was just—”

“Would you want to, though?” Leo asked. “Tonight, I mean? Because I…I’d want to.”

“I might not like it,” Finn said. “But yeah. Yeah.”

They both looked at Logan and all Logan could do was stare at Finn.

“You…” Logan was already nodding. “Finn.”

“Lay down, lay down,” Leo sat up and took Finn’s hands, pulling him until Finn was on his back again.

Logan pushed up from Leo to settle on Finn’s other side, hand going to rest above the zip of Finn’s shorts. Finn glanced up at him while Leo got up and reached for the glove box.

“Since when?” Logan asked Finn, leaning down to press a kiss to his mouth.

“I don’t know,” Finn said, hips pushing up gently against Logan’s hand, which was rubbing him gently through his shorts. “It’s not like I never thought about it, but I never…thought thought about it until…well, the night we won the Cup.”

“The Cup?” Leo said, settling back down between Finn’s legs.

“Yeah,” Finn tilted his head to the side, eyes going a little foggy. “It was just—a really intense night. I mean all of it, winning, the parties…”

“The sex,” Logan finished for him, and he was dizzy all over again. It had been intense, making their way back to their apartment and falling into Finn’s bed. The night had stretched forever. It had been fierce, rolling into each other, keeping each other weighted down, close and safe from floating away with it all.

Finn smiled. “Yeah. You two. I…I like being that close to you. And I thought maybe you could be that close to me, too.”

Leo put his hand over Logan’s. It pressed Logan’s palm harder against where Finn was growing stiff in his clothes. Leo popped the button open and leaned down to kiss over the hard muscles of Finn’s stomach.

“Just tell us how it goes, okay?” Leo said. “We can switch it up if you want.”

“Literally,” Finn laughed, but it was breathless.

Logan could tell he was nervous, could feel his heart beneath his palm. He leaned over, the pendant of his necklace falling onto Finn’s skin, and kissed over where his palm had been.

Leo pulled Finn’s shorts off while Logan kept him busy with hard, lingering kisses. Leo looked up at them and felt as surreal as ever. Ever since the Cup, Leo had been waking up every morning and reciting the list of events to himself, almost making sure they still felt real.

Finn. Logan. Falling in love. Making best friends. Coming out to them. Winning a Cup. Falling more in love. Taking Logan and Finn home. Knowing they missed him. Experiencing a sort of trust that he’d never even known before.

Finn’s skin was soft beneath his hands. There was salt dried on it, and he bent to taste the clean scent of it. It mixed with Finn’s arousal, making him ache. Finn’s cock was half hard, twitching as Leo eased his palms around it, not quite touching. He hadn’t been sure if Finn would ever want to be fucked. He and Logan had talked about it a few times, wondering if they should ask again, but they had decided to let Finn bring it up, if he wanted. And now—

“Lay back,” Logan was laughing, palm on Finn’s chest.

“I want to see,” Finn said.

Leo snorted. “You’re not really going to be able to see anything yet.”

“But…”

“You’re such a baby,” Logan sighed, but stood, kicking his clothes off and then sliding behind Finn, cradling him between his thighs and arms. Finn was still slumped low, and Logan smiled at Leo, resting his chin on Finn’s shoulder as he wrapped a hand around his cock. “There.”

Leo watched them, getting out of his shorts and squeezing his hardening cock, and then Finn looked up at him.

Finn gave him a smile. “Okay, cool, ready.”

“Cool,” Leo laughed, but instead of reaching down, he pushed forward onto his hands and knees, hovering over Finn’s body. “That’s not what you do for us, though, is it?”

Finn blinked. “What?”

Leo bent to kiss Finn’s neck, pressing their hips together so that Logan could wrap his hand around both of them at once. Finn gasped and Leo fucked into Logan’s fist, their cocks rubbing together in his tight hold.

“You make sure we know how much you love us first, Harzy,” Leo said. “Right?”

Leo felt Logan bend to kiss the other side of Finn’s neck. “Right.”

Finn was breathing harder now. “Right…”

Leo leaned back to capture Finn in a kiss, muscles tensing as Logan jacked them quicker.

“You’re gonna come so much, sweetheart, I know it.”

Logan laughed gently. “We’ve talked about it.”

“Talked about it?” Finn asked, hands moving down to press into Leo’s ass. “When?”

“Sometimes,” Leo smiled and reached down to stroke over Finn’s thigh. He leaned back, out of Logan’s reach, his cock hard falling heavily against his thighs. “Don’t get him too good, Tremz.”

Logan retrieved his hand, stroking them down Finn’s sides instead. Finn’s cock was red and sticking straight out, wet at the tip.

“Fuck,” Finn breathed.

Leo uncapped the lube with one hand and bent to suck Finn’s cock into his mouth while he warmed it between his fingers.

“Leo…” Finn said, and then cut off when Leo gently pressed his first fingertip in.

“D’accord?” Leo heard Logan whisper, and Finn whispered a yes back. But Finn was tight, every muscle Leo could feel taught around him.

“Relax, mon rouge,” Logan whispered. “You’re okay, we’ve got you.”

Leo pulled off his cock and sat back, working his finger gently.

“I’m just not used to it,” Finn said, glancing down to try and see. “I think I need something to do.”

Logan snorted. “Of course you do.”

Leo looked up from his fingers. “I have a Rubik’s Cube around here somewhere.”

Finn laughed out loud, his head falling back into Logan’s chest right as Leo pushed in a little farther and—

“Oh,” Finn jolted, smile going slack. “Oh, fuck.”

Logan smoothed his hands down Finn’s chest. “Yeah?"

Finn’s hand reached down to grip Logan’s wrist as Leo brushed inside of him again, a strangled breath punching out of him.

Leo bent once again to suck him gently. He himself was aching and trying to starve off thoughts of pressing inside of Finn, just to calm down. Finn was panting, mouth open. He had planted his feet on the blankets and pushed back when Leo added a second finger. His cock drooled a sticky strand down his chest.

“Merde,” Logan said faintly. He reached out with his finger tip to trace along a vein in Finn’s cock and Finn jolted. “Do you like it, Harzy?”

Finn’s laugh tumbled out of him. “I guess. Leo—”

Leo had added a second finger. Finn laughed again, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Oh, fuck.”

“I didn’t know you would laugh through this,” Logan said.

“I didn’t know it would feel like this.”

“So you’re laughing?”

Finn tilted his head back to look up at Logan. “I’m between my boys who are all naked and pretty and warm. I’m happy. Fuck, Leo…”

Leo smiled. “Aw, Harzy. Can I add another? Is it okay?”

Finn nodded. “Okay, okay. What’s that, three?”

“Three, sweetheart,” Leo smiled, leaning down to kiss his hip, then the base of his cock.

“Sweetheart,” Finn breathed nonsensically, smile still on his face even though his eyes had slipped shut. “Yeah, yeah, there…”

Leo looked up at Logan and they smiled at each other. Logan’s cheeks were flushed, hair curlier than Leo had ever seen it from the salt water. His eyes were hooded and he was holding Finn against him, hips rocking forward gently.

“Still okay?” Leo said. “I think you’re ready, what do you think?”

Logan ducked down to kiss Finn’s cheek. “Want Leo, mon rouge?”

Finn nodded. “Yeah. I want Leo.”

Leo tilted his head as he gave Finn one last push, crooking his fingers up to make him groan.

“Okay, Harz,” Leo said and leaned forward to kiss him, licking into his mouth. He pulled back just enough to see Finn, eyes closed and waiting for another kiss. “This makes us feel so good,” Leo mumbled, and kissed him again. “We love you like this.”

Finn made a soft noise, eyes opening. “Good.”

Leo nipped his lip gently and pulled back, reaching for the lube again.

He pushed into Finn careful, so slowly, stopping at the first press.

“Fuck,” Finn’s palms pressed into the blankets, fingers curling for something to hold onto. He pushed back against Logan. “Fuck, fuck.”

Leo went to pull back.

“No, no, no, no,” Finn said. “Go, go, go.”

Leo took a shaky breath and pushed forward again. He watched himself sink into Finn and then had to stop, half way into the tight heat and breathing hard. His cock pulsed with the feeling, with the visual and the knowledge that this was Finn.

“Okay, Harzy?” Logan said.

Leo could hear the waves lapping at the boat as Finn nodded. Finn reached forward for Leo’s hip, guiding him the rest of the way.

Leo rocked forward and the boat seemed to rock with them. Finn’s heels slipped against the blankets and he let out a low whine that Leo had never heard before. Finn wasn’t loud.

“Shit,” Leo closed his eyes and then looked at Logan, who was practically holding Finn up. He pressed in harder, making sure he pulled all the way out before sinking in again. Finn wasn’t like Logan, who pushed back as good as he got. Finn went a little boneless, head thrown back against Logan’s shoulder and his eyes closed. Leo clutched his thighs for leverage and fucked him.

“Yes, yes…” Finn kept saying, words slurred together.

Logan whimpered and his head tilted back in a way Leo knew all too well. He was coming, hidden behind Finn, probably from the pressure of Finn’s back rubbing against him—probably from Finn’s harsh breathing.

Finn’s eyes flashed open when he felt Logan’s heat streak his back, and his cock jumped.

“Leo,” Finn said. “Logan—”

“I know, sweetheart,” Leo fucked in faster. “Lo?”

Logan just bent to mouth along Finn’s neck. Leo could see his hips fucking forward as he rode out his high, clutching Finn against him. When he stilled, he turned Finn’s head to press a lingering kiss to his mouth.

“Lay back now, Harzy,” he said, and slid carefully from behind him.

Leo smiled into the kiss that Logan knelt to give him, palms smoothing over his shoulders. Logan looked soft and sated in the lantern light, all gentle curves and broad muscles.

“J’adore,” Logan murmured.

“Tremz…”

“Guys,” Finn panted.

Leo leaned forward and kissed him where he was against the pillows, red hair wild and splayed out. Logan stretched out beside them, hand looping around Finn’s cock.

“How does it feel?” Logan said. “Knutty’s so good.”

Leo groaned, the words spreading heat right through him. He had been feeling strange lately, being home after so much change had been getting to him. But seeing them, stretched out in front of him, and feeling Finn around him—Finn, who had always taken care of him… Leo knew he had changed. And not even being home, something he loved so much and was so comfortable with, could change him back.

“Does it always feel like this?” Finn murmured, then looked from Logan to Leo. “Do I feel like this?”

He pushed into Finn again, grinding close. “Yeah, Harzy. This is how you make us feel.”

Leo pushed in twice more, and then Finn was coming, seizing up around Leo and dripping over Logan’s fingers in hot waves.

“Fuck,” Logan’s voice broke. “You always come so…”

Finn just made a soft sound, the tendons of his neck going tight as he let out a breath. “Keep—”

Logan’s hand sped up around him, Leo pushing into him at a steady pace. Finn let Logan run a hand through his hair, coaxing him through it. Then Logan looked back at Leo, reaching a hand down to feel where Leo was pushing into Finn one last time until he stilled when Finn’s breathing seemed to calm. Together, Logan and Leo smoothed their hands over Finn’s hips as Leo pulled out carefully, shiny from the lube and his own precome. Leo ached with the loss, but Finn was twitching away now, sated and oversensitive.

“So?” Leo said.

“Huh,” Finn sighed, eyes shut. He cupped a hand over his cock, opened his eyes, and smiled sleepily. “I see now.”

“Is this a new thing?” Logan asked.

“Yeah,” Finn said, then bit his lip. “But I think I like doing it to you guys more.”

Leo tilted his head against Logan, enjoying the way Finn was looking at them. Like they were his. Like he was theirs.

They pressed Leo back into the blankets and got him off slowly, and Leo felt like it was forever before his sweat was cooling on his skin, and he came to with his hands in their hair, their mouths kissing along his chest and shoulders.

The night was cooler now, too, and Finn brought the blankets up over them. He was propped on one elbow and Leo watched him stroke light fingers down Logan’s arm, then reach to brush Leo’s hair back.

“I love you guys, you know?” Finn said. “I didn’t really think I’d ever want that…but I don’t think it was actually that, I think it was more…”

“Trust?” Leo finished when he trailed off.

“Yeah,” Finn said softly.

Logan nodded. “Knutty, you’re…”

“You make us trust,” Finn said, and Logan nodded again. “Trust ourselves, trust each other. Trust the world.”

Leo opened his mouth to say something, but he didn’t know what. The boat rocked beneath them from some unseen wave. It brushed them closer, all soft, sunned skin.

Logan saved Leo the trouble. He seemed to just know and cuddled himself closer beneath the blankets. They would leave for Canada soon, for a last, wild ride with the Cup. Then, they would spend the remainder of the summer in Gryffindor. But it didn’t feel like a remainder. None of it did. It felt like the rest of Leo’s life.

Leo looked at them, and looked at the stars. He didn’t need the far away things anymore to feel like he was home.

#coast to coast #sweater weather #coast to coast lumosinlove #sweater weather lumosinlove #o'knutzy #finn x leo x logan #finn o'hara #lumosinlove ocs #Logan tremblay #Leo knut #smut #o'knutzy smut #harry potter #Harry Potter fic

323 notes · View notes

jd-loves-fiction · 3 years

Text

Kiss Cam

➤ Atsumu quickly regrets inviting you and his brother Osamu, whom you’ve been crushing on since highschool, to one his games once the kiss cam lands on the two of you and he has to witness his friend and brother swap spit onscreen.

➤ genre: fluff

➤ wc: 2k

➤ warnings:

➤ 🌑 I actually don’t know if there are kiss cams in volleyball games but oh well😅

You understood the thought process that led to the situation you would soon have to confront.

You understood why Atsumu did it and why he didn’t think twice about it.

But it really wouldn’t hurt him to learn how to read the room, but more importantly, your tone of clear distress.

“Look, I’m sorry, didn’t think it’d be a problem. And I still kinda ain’t seein’ the problem?” Atsumu said, sounding genuinely confused, which would’ve made you pity him in any other situation because he truly seemed lost, but not in this particular case.

“Ok, you didn’t think it’d be a problem. And now you know it is! Can’t you do anything to change it?” You were practically pleading, pacing back and forth nervously across the length of the stadium’s bathroom.

“I thought ya got over him!” He said, clearly frustrated. “Nothin’ can be done now. Yer just gonna hafta sit with him. Or ya can just go home, if ya want. Wouldn’t hold it against ya.” He spoke over the phone.

Your shoulders dropped. There’s the pity.

“No. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t even be calling you just before the game. I’ll be fine, just focus on winning, alright?” You sighed, defeated.

“’s ok, nothin’ like a lil needless argument to warm up and get the blood pumpin’.” He chuckled, relaxing once more, judging by his voice.

You checked yourself in the mirror again, fixing any stray hairs and wishing you had put more effort into your appearance. If only you had been warned that you'd be sitting next to your highschool crush, Miya Osamu, who you definitely still had feelings for, in the VIP section--

That's enough. No reason to be thinking about that. No time either, as you were already approaching your seat when you came back to your senses.

It had been so long since you'd last seen him. You thought that maybe your memory betrayed you and he wasn't nearly as attractive as you remembered him to be, or perhaps he wouldn't age well. All those possibilities were proven to be completely incorrect the moment you spotted him.

Gone was his warm grey hair, now replaced with his natural black, his shoulders seemed even wider (which didn't seem possible at the time) and he seemed leaner, not at all out of shape but not as filled with muscle as before. It suited him.

You wondered for a moment if he even remembered you (you'd be quite hurt if he didn't) let alone as vividly as you remembered him.

Did he remember you as the shy girl from his class who didn't fall at his brother's feet (and instead fell at his, but he didn't know that) and instead chose to befriend him and find her way into his circle? Did he remember what you looked like? The jokes you made behind Atsumu's back? The lunchboxes shared? How he always seemed to want a pice of yours more than any other, despite the deliciousness of his own? The little game you started where you would try to get him to laugh with the dumbest of methods because you were curious on what his laugh sounded like and why he didn't show it more often?

Did he remember you at all? Sure, those memories seemed significant enough, to you, because you were smitten with him.

He, on the other hand, had a hoard of fangirls waiting on his neck and call much like his brother, and various girlfriends (if the rumors were to be trusted, which they usually weren't, but it had to be true, with everything he had. The body, the face, the personality, the humor).

Sure, him and Atsumu didn't befriend a whole lot of girls, but there were at least a few. Would he confuse you with one of them?

"Y/N?"

Before you could step all over your own heart once more with worst case scenarios, already thinking about turning back and leaving, you heard his low voice call out your name, slow and unsure.

He blinked at you for a moment, wondering if his eye betrayed him, until you waved shyly at him while approaching. His pout immediately turned into a small and soft smile that made your heart flutter.

"Hi! Haven't seen you in a while!" You greeted amicably as you sat down next to him, mentally struggling to come up with topics to discuss. If you remembered correctly, he was never one for small talk, and nothing would be worse than silence right now.

"Right back at ya! How've you been doin'?" He asked politely, still smiling at you. You don't remember seeing him smile for this long (genuinely) before. Oh God, his smile is so cute--

"Oh, nothing much. Looking for a job at the moment." You said dismissively, mentally scolding yourself for making yourself sound so uninteresting. Osamu didn't seem fazed though.

"Well, I'm probably gonna need some help durin' the summer. So, if ya need a part-time job while in Hyogo or something, come by my shop: 'Onigiri Miya'. Sure Tsumu's told ya about it already though, heard y'all kept in touch." He offered, successfully managing to seem calm and collected despite the excitement he felt at the possibility of spending time with you, doing what he loves. That and hide the envy he felt for your having kept in touch with his brother and not him, but then again he could've been the one to reach out so he didn't really blame you.

"Oh! Well I am planning to pass through... Maybe I'll take you up on that offer." You smiled, ignoring how easy it was to talk to Osamu. Who the hell would talk about a summer part-time with their highschool crush after however many years it's been? You two apparently.

But it was nice. Everything about Osamu was nice.

"But honestly, it's real nice to see ya again. Ya look great, I mean it." He said softly, hoping you hadn't noticed the way his eyes had roamed your figure for a moment when he saw you.

You blushed, looking away in response and giving his a meek 'thanks', acting like a highschool girl with a huge crush all over again, but then again, what really had changed?

"You don't look so bad yourself." Was all you managed to say before the game was announced to be starting soon, followed by the fans' loud cheers.

You and Osamu traded comments and jests, poking fun at people in the audience as well as some players (mostly Atsumu), and even though it seemed childish, it made you feel like a highschooler again. Actually it seemed to almost transport you fully onto a very specific day.

You remembered that day quite clearly, for whatever reason. It was during your first year, Osamu had injured himself and had to sit out of a practice match that Inarizaki had against another school. Atsumu (or was it Osamu? You couldn't remember exactly) had asked you to come see the game and "cheer him on". Truth be told, he knew that you wouldn't be doing any of that, and in a way he was glad you wouldn't.

As you entered the gym, you noticed Osamu right away, sitting dejectedly on the sidelines, on the bench, seemingly unbothered and uninterested, but by the grip he had on his shorts and the light tapping of his foot in the floor, you could tell it wasn't so.

The team all knew you by this point, so the coach simply nodded at you as you entered, headed straight to where Osamu sat, eyes wide and glued to the match in front of him, passing in front of him purposely to bring his attention towards you instead.

You placed your bag on the ground before sitting next to it, receiving an odd look from the younger twin.

"Why're ya sittin' on the floor?" He asked as you simply smiled. "Why do you look like you're plotting a murder?" You asked bluntly, to which he gave you a surprised but impressed look, shaking his head and motioning for you to sit with him.

"I'm not. Now come sit with me. Bet it's cold there." He tried tempting your but you merely shook your head, staying where you were.

Reason being that 1. Yes, you were close to most people on the team but you weren't part of it and that's what the bench was for and 2. You had a plan.

"What kind of face do you think that middle blocker's gonna make when Suna spikes?"

"Well..."

You remember making comments about both teams and laughing quietly amongst yourselves, and with where you sat, Osamu had to lean in your direction to hear what you were saying, therefore taking at least a little of his attention away from the game so that he didn't stomp through the floor in restlessness.

The halftime interval was announced finally, each team taking the time to recover some of their strength.

One of the huge screens situated at the edges of the stadium switched on, showcasing a vignette in the shape of a pink heart with the words 'Kiss Cam' at the top, the camera attached settling on two people making them lean towards each other to do as the screen indicated while the crowd cheered.

"Wait. Atsumu told you I was coming? Why? And why didn't he tell me?" Osamu shrugged at your question, seemingly not privy to his brother's thoughts on the matter. Which was a lie.

Atsumu had told him because he knew of his crush on you, and saw this little encounter as the perfect way to 'rekindle the flame' as he put it, as if you were some old couple who were simply bored of each other and not too young adults hopelessly head over heels for the other but unable to make a move.

As you tried to wrap your head around Atsumu's reasoning (useless, knowing him), Osamu took notice of a camera preparing to settle on your position.

Both of your faces appeared onscreen inside the (to some) dreaded pink heart, the crowd cheering once more as you looked around yourself, confused, until Osamu pointed you in the direction of the screen and watched as your face became beet red, before you hid it in your hands.

So that's what Atsumu meant when he told him to 'take any chance to make a move if he got one', the bastard. Osamu glanced briefly at his brother below, looking at his stupid smirk and dumb thumbs up of encouragement. He set this up.

As Osamu turned to you, so pretty, so cute, an image he could never truly erase from his mind fully since highschool, he realized that this was his chance. And he had to just man up and take it. Not repeat the same mistake.

The black haired man placed a gentle hand on the back of your lowered head, ignoring the way the crowd roared louder, and leaned towards you as you raised your head to look at him, being met by his face mere centimeters away from yours.

He looked at you in concern, wanting to make sure that you truly wanted this as much as him.

And you, realizing that fuck it he looked like he wanted it as much as you and you really had nothing to lose, leaned forward to meet him halfway as the crowd's ruckus crescendoed one final time.

The exchange must've lasted maybe a full minute, if that, but it seemed so much longer to you. It seemed like an eternity before you felt his soft, flavoured lips meet yours in a shy kiss, sweet but hesitant. Exactly like two highschoolers would do after confessing.

You parted after a moment, timidly opening to your eyes to check Osamu's expression, only to find him smiling as giddily as you felt inside, hand still steady on your head, simply cupping it and not pushing.

Spurred on by his clear excitement, you leaned back towards him, joining your lips passionately with your eyes closed as the cheering faded from your ears, solely focused on the feeling of Osamu's lips against your own, slow but firm.

As you parted, looking away from each other shyly, you both caught a glimpse of Atsumu, gagging down by the benches.

He was obviously happy for his brother and friend, but he would've preferred to not watch as they locked lips as passionately as they did.

147 notes · View notes

just-a-poor-boy-queen · 3 years

Note

Warning for NSFW and dirty talk.

Part 35 of Jimercury Kid series

Despite being fifty-one years of age, Freddie still had a sex drive that a teenager would be proud of.

Which made it all the more frustrating when he came home from the studio after a long, tiring session and wanted nothing more than to be taken to bed and suitably ravished by his husband so he could forget all his worries and grievances for a few uninterrupted hours.

But with children came responsibilities. Usually by the time Freddie arrived home, Jim had already picked Khaleel up from school, helped him with his homework, played with him and prepared his dinner, on top of working in the garden all day. Naturally, the Irishman would be exhausted, and sex was the last thing on his mind.

Freddie tried to be understanding about the situation. Jim was a hard worker and dedicated hours of his time to both the garden and their son, so the singer felt he didn’t have any right to begrudge him for being less than enthusiastic about intimacy. But his own biology betrayed him; that constant primal need to fuck and be fucked was achingly present, tormenting him day and night.

In his younger, more reckless years, he would have simply sought out a temporary bedmate to alleviate this problem. But those days were long over; he loved Jim and was fully committed to him. Which was why he was now sitting alone in the master bedroom, staring down at the bottle of lube in his hand and wondering how much time he had before Jim returned from the school run.

He couldn’t pinpoint when exactly he had decided to take this idea forward, but he knew it had something to do with the giant bulge straining against his zipper, begging to be let out. It had been two weeks since he and Jim had slept together, and lately Freddie had resorted to taking matters into his own hands (quite literally.) Living with a seven-year-old made it difficult to get any alone time, so he took this opportunity by the horns and pushed his sweats down to his knees, pulling out his half-hard cock and squirting a generous amount of lube into his palm.

He leaned back against the headboard as he gently began to massage his throbbing member, unable to think of anything other than his husband and all the things he wanted Jim to do to him. He thought of Jim pinning him to the mattress, trailing kisses along his neck, gently suckling at his throat as he thrust in and out of Freddie like a hungry animal. He thought of Jim beneath him, nails scraping against the skin of his back, breathing hot air into his ear as Freddie took control for the night. Watching Jim’s face flush and his pupils dilate while Freddie bounced on his dick, riding himself into oblivion.

As the early waves of pleasure washed over him, Freddie reached up and gently pinched a nipple, rolling it between his finger and thumb. He tried to imagine Jim behind him, one hand up his shirt while the other tended to his leaking cock, whispering the filthiest words into his ear until the Persian was a sobbing, squirming mess.

‘Jim…’ he couldn’t help but whisper desperately under his breath. ‘Jim, Jim.’

As good as it felt, it wasn’t the same. No matter how hard he thought about his husband, how well he pictured him in his mind, it wasn’t the same as Jim physically being there. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t bring himself over the edge; every time he felt close to release, his brain held him back.

After a while, his arm began to ache and he sighed in frustration, realising this was a futile effort. He opened his eyes, only to be greeted by a figure standing in the doorway and he yelled in surprise.

‘Jim!’ He spluttered, grabbing a pillow to cover his nether regions, ‘haven’t you heard of knocking?’

‘And interrupt this show?’ Jim grinned. ‘No chance.’

Freddie felt his cheeks singe. ‘How long have you been standing there?’

‘Only about five minutes.’ Jim stepped into the room, taking a seat at the foot of the bed. ‘Khaleel’s started on his homework in the kitchen and you’re far better at maths than I am, so I came up to find you. But clearly you’re preoccupied with other things.’

‘You ass.’ Freddie grumbled, trying to play off his embarrassment. His cock was still painfully swollen, pressing up against the pillow in a desperate search for friction.

The smirk on Jim’s face didn’t falter. ‘So, you think of me when you’re jerking yourself off?’

Freddie looked appalled. ‘Of course I do! Who else would I be thinking of?’

‘I don’t know. Burt Reynolds?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Freddie crossed his arms defiantly, but quickly dropped them back to his sides when Jim cocked an eyebrow. ‘Okay, maybe a few times. But mostly I think of you. You’re my husband, for God’s sake.’

Jim’s eyes glittered with unusual mischief; he rose from the bed and walked over to Freddie’s side, taking hold of the pillow, and moving it away from the Persian’s crotch. ‘Shift over.’

Freddie frowned, confused, but moved over without complaint, allowing Jim to sit down next to him and lean back against the headboard. The Irishman spread his legs and patted the space between them; it didn’t take Freddie long to realise what he was asking.

‘Darling, Kenny might call for us.’ He said uncertainly, even as he lowered himself between Jim’s legs, allowing his husband to tug his jeans down further to his ankles.

‘Phoebe is there if he needs any help.’ Jim murmured in his ear, taking up the lube that Freddie had abandoned and squirting a large helping into his hand. ‘Don’t worry, this won’t take long.’

Freddie still wasn’t sure, but as soon as he felt Jim’s firm grip on his cock, all he could do was hum softly and let his head fall back against the Irishman’s shoulder, closing his eyes as those familiar pangs of pleasure returned.

‘What were you picturing in that pretty little head of yours?’ Jim began pressing soft, warm kisses against the crook of Freddie’s neck, revelling in how the singer moaned and bucked in response. ‘Were you thinking of me fucking you? Ploughing into you nice and deep?’

‘Mmm…’ Freddie bit down on his bottom lip desperately, resisting the urge to scream. He thrust harder into Jim’s fist, cheeks pink from the effort.

‘You love it when I fuck you, don’t you?’ Jim nibbled Freddie’s earlobe, smiling as the Persian shivered and whined in response. ‘You love lying there on your hands and knees, arse in the air, your little hole desperate to be filled with my cock.’

‘Jim.’ Freddie practically sobbed, so close that his whole body was trembling. He wasn’t sure how Jim always managed to make him come undone so easily, but he fucking loved it.

‘Do you remember Live Aid, Freddie?’ Jim carried on, undeterred, his voice a mere whisper. ‘Remember me standing backstage while you strutted about onstage, showing off that gorgeous body of yours? Do you have any idea what I wanted to do to you in that moment?’

Freddie was beyond words. He just shook his head, desperate for Jim to keep talking.

‘If I had my way, I would have marched you off that stage, taken you to the dressing room and fucked you so hard you couldn’t remember your own name. The rest of the band would have been on the other side of the door, wondering what was going on, but they’d just have to wait because I’d be too busy filling your greedy hole. You’d be moaning so loudly, everyone in that stadium would know that the great Freddie Mercury was being fucked and he loved it-’

With a strangled cry, Freddie came into Jim’s hand, the tears in his eyes spilling down his cheeks as he was overwhelmed by his orgasm. He collapsed against his husband, gasping for air as Jim gently cradled his jaw and tilted his head back for a sweet kiss.

‘God, I’ve missed you.’ Freddie panted against the Irishman’s lips.

‘I’ve missed you too.’ Jim kissed him again. ‘So fucking much.’

OMG SO FUCKING HOT🥵

I absolutely loved this, my god. It's such a wonderful use of the prompt. I mean, their sex life must be pretty... dry, even with a seven year old lol who could barge in at any time in their bedroom (or other places, you know, if they get a little adventurous😏). So I really don't blame Freddie for getting some solo action. But lmao, ofc he can't get off without his husband.

And damn, Jim! The dirty talk was... oof. I mean... wow. Oof. Yeah, wow.

Also lmao, Freddie admitting to thinking of Burt Reynolds made me cackle hahahaha. But of course, he thinks of Mr. Reynolds only a few times. His own 'Burt Baby' (that's apparently an actual nickname that Freddie had for Jim), his husband, is enough to fuel his fantasies😌

I love this so much, darling. So fucking hot!

(More drabbles by writer anon)

(All the parts of this series can also be found under the tag #freddie and jim and their baby on this blog)

#ask response #jim hutton #freddie mercury #anon writing #freddie and jim and their baby

13 notes · View notes

olivinesea · 3 years

Text

Play it Right

a/n: I’m back! We’re in the single digit countdown to the end of this godforsaken school year aghhhh. So excited I can’t even tell you. Here’s some Hotch being sad but trying to be a good dad. ~3.3k

Hotch & Sean take Jack out for his birthday.

Memories of childhood were hard to come by, often only wisps of faded colors that he couldn’t completely resolve into images. There were light drenched afternoons with disembodied fingers pulling up blades of grass. Other partial scenes where dirt stained knees crawled into dark spaces where the world was cool and damp, following a trail of ants as they slowly dismantled some lifeless form. There was the sickened twist of fascination that accompanied the discovery, watching the way it was transformed from something into nothing with only the help of a few thousand tiny insects. Individually inconsequential in size, collectively a force of nature unstoppable as they reduced the abandoned shell into a small drift of feathers. The pale structure stirred and blown away easily by the air displaced when he reached down to take a single one. He dreamed about the ants coming to him, taking him away piece by piece until there was nothing left but traces of bone dust, dispersed by a midnight breeze. For any other child this would have been a nightmare but to him it was a promise. A promise of order and structure, an indication that time did in fact move forward and wasn’t trapped within stagnated pools hiding in the dim recesses of closets. That it wasn’t a continuous loop of threats and tears, of lies worn so smooth they slipped out of mouths unaware. It won’t happen again. He loves you. I love you.

It was far better to let his memories of childhood be lost. Easy enough to do with no one else who had been present at the time around to reinforce them with retelling. No one else to share with over a drink, bouncing stories back and forth, refreshing the dilapidated structures with a new coat of detail. As he let them dissolve they became defanged, passive enough to believe they were not even about him but possibly a story he’d once read and allowed to mingle with his reality. He had always been told he had a vivid imagination, maybe he could allow that to be true retroactively. It didn’t matter anymore anyway. He was still here and none of them were.

Except Sean.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose impatiently. They’d been waiting for Sean for at least half an hour. His brother, never punctual, was cutting it close once again. They were supposed to be taking Jack to the Mets game. Originally conceived by Sean, the idea was floated as a birthday gift for Jack’s tenth birthday—double digits, a big deal for any kid. Somehow this “gift” had become something Hotch had organized entirely, buying the tickets, getting Jack and himself to New York, filling in the rest of the weekend with kid-friendly activities. He’d made it so easy for Sean, all he had to do was show up and he wasn’t even getting that part right. He glanced at his watch again, resisting the urge to double check the time printed on the tickets. It was a baseball game, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if they missed the beginning.

He looked at Jack, sitting on the bench, fiddling with the laces of his glove. The glove was a hand-me-down of sorts. He had found it while helping clean out their parents’ house after their mother passed away. Sean swore it wasn’t his but it couldn’t be Hotch’s either, it was for someone right-handed. Plus, he couldn’t pull up any memories connected to it. He’d never been a team sport kind of kid. Too silent, too reserved to fit in with the loud boys who jostled each other playfully and banded together with unnecessary vitriol for the opposing teams. Hotch never understood team rivalries. Of all the many sources of hatred he’d learned, going to a different school didn’t make the list. It didn’t make any sense to create tension, to whip up emotions that had no basis. He knew enough of hate not to go looking for it where it didn’t need to exist.

Rather than argue with Sean about it, he’d taken the glove home and held on to it until Jack was big enough to use it. He wasn’t exactly sure why but he made up a story for it, weaving a collection of happy moments to accompany the time-softened leather. He told Jack the stories he felt he should have had, the kinds of stories fathers should tell their sons. He hadn’t bothered to do this when Jack was younger, hadn’t worried about his son’s perception of the past. But as Jack got older, as life took more and more away from him before he’d even had a chance to be aware of what he had, Hotch felt the need to give him pieces of a family history. He felt they should be stories that would make him feel normal, if that were at all possible with a life like this. Like he was any other kid with parents who were once kids themselves, chasing the same simple joys. He thought it might be comforting, I’ve known happiness and so can you.

Hotch would do anything to make Jack happy and even though it often made him crazy, this meant including Sean in their lives. His relationship with Sean had always been tense. There were several years after Haley’s death, after his absence in the aftermath, when things were beyond strained. Hotch, once he had surfaced enough to feel things, had burned with a white hot anger, tempting him to sever their tie permanently. It was an anger he didn’t trust himself with, strong enough to break through his control without a second’s notice. So he didn’t call, didn’t make the effort he knew was required to pull his brother back into his orbit. He never spoke of it of course but Jessica noticed. She heard Jack asking about his uncle, saw the muscle in Hotch’s jaw jump as he ground his teeth together to keep from saying something he shouldn’t. When she felt enough time had passed, she started to push him in little ways to reach out, to reconnect.

So he’d ended up here, once again, waiting for Sean, unsure if he’d even manage to remember his nephew’s birthday. Hotch was internally cursing his younger brother and considering leaving on the next train with or without him when the younger man appeared. He looked a little disheveled, hair sticking up in odd places, the shirt under his leather jacket not altogether clean. But he was smiling and calling their names, sweeping first Jack and then Hotch into a hug, almost certainly intending to irritate his brother with the uninvited contact. Hotch could smell the beer on his breath and gave him a sharp look. Sean shrugged it off and turned his attention to Jack.

“Alright kid, are you ready for this?” he ruffled the boy’s sandy blond hair as he asked. Jack grinned up at him, nodding his head a little too vigorously. Sean never failed to charm.

Hotch frowned at them. “Come on, let’s get going. We’re cutting it a little close.”

Sean scoffed and made a face at Jack, mimicking Hotch’s serious features, only to stick his tongue out and make Jack giggle. “Relax, it’ll be fine.” He punched Hotch’s shoulder, earning another glare, but they all started walking toward the platform. Hotch followed just half a step behind, keeping a close eye on Jack in the thickening crowd. He watched Sean weave confidently through people, happily becoming the lead adventurer. Hotch, who had regretted this from the moment he’d agreed, felt his stomach twisting on itself, anticipating what kind of unnecessary chaos Sean would lead them into today.

They made it to the ballpark without too much difficulty. With some shuffling, they arranged themselves in the hard stadium seats, Jack between the two men. This checked two boxes for Hotch—in the middle Jack was both protected and protecting him from being too close to his brother. If Sean had been a little tipsy when he’d shown up he could now be considered fully inebriated. He hadn’t stopped drinking beer since they got there. Hotch, already on edge, was exasperated by this behavior. However, his pointed glares got him nothing but a grin and a lifted glass waved in his direction.

Jack didn’t notice, just happy to see his Uncle Sean who was always so fun and wild. He was the only family of his dad’s that he had ever met so there was something extra special about this man, so different from his dad but somehow his nearest relative. Jack was chattering to him about kid things, filling Sean in on all the art projects and field trips and other critical moments of his life. He proudly showed off the glove, talking about how his dad told him of Sean’s skill as a baseball player and how he said he used to go watch his games and cheer him on.

Sean almost spit out beer he laughed so hard at this information. “You’re kidding. Is that the kind of BS your dad is feeding you?” He looked over at Hotch, who might have been trying to literally kill him with the look he was directing his way. “That damn glove was never mine and you know it Aaron.”

Unrelenting in his disapproval, Hotch shrugged slightly, “Maybe I have some of the details mixed up.”

“Details?” He looked back at Jack, “That glove was your dad’s and for some stupid reason he tried to throw it away one day and your grandpa kicked the shit out of him for it.”

“Sean!”

“What?” Sean was an expert at faking innocence. Jack was wide eyed, looking between the two adults, not understanding what was happening.

“Can I speak with you?” Hotch’s words were clipped, gritting them out between clenched teeth.

“Oooh Agent Hotchner, yessir,” Sean sat up straight, faking a snap to attention but the effect was lost as he swayed slightly. Hotch pressed lips together and grabbed Sean by the jacket shoulder, pulling him to his feet and pushing him out into the aisle.

“What are you thinking? Why would you say something like that?” Hotch tried not to raise his voice but he was barely succeeding.

“You think it’s better for him to believe in some bullshit you made up?” Sean spat back at him.

“Why not? I’m protecting him. He’s lived through enough, he deserves to have some happy stories.”

“So you lie to him,” Sean said, voice flat.

“It’s not lying.”

Sean wasn’t playing anymore, he was angry, every bit as angry as Hotch. His face was flushed from alcohol and emotion. He looked directly at Hotch, making sure his words sank in. “It is lying, just like you lied to me.”

“I never lied to you,” Hotch protested but the words barely made it out of his mouth.

Sean laughed meanly. “You lied to me every fucking day in that house Aaron. I saw everything, heard everything only for you to turn around and tell me it was all fine, that our dad was a good man.” He paused for a moment, looking down at his clenched fists. “I thought I was fucking crazy.”

“I just wanted to protect you.”

“Bullshit. You were being selfish, just like you are now. You think you can just change the facts and no one will know, that it won’t affect anyone else. I have bad news for you: we don’t all just exist in this world you made up in your head. Jack is a real person, I am a real person. Refusing to admit what was happening didn’t make it any less real, it just meant that I was alone with it. Just a little kid alone trying to understand why someone who was supposed to take care of me would hurt my brother and why, why my brother would lie about it. Did you think I was stupid?”

Hotch didn’t know how to respond, stunned by the bitterness of Sean’s words.

“I’m not going to sit around while you lie to someone else about our shitty father. What’s even the point of protecting him anymore?”

Hotch frowned, “I wanted you to have a normal life, a normal relationship with him. He liked you. I thought if I could keep that side of him away, you could have the kind of father I saw other kids have. I thought I could give you that.”

“You’re an arrogant bastard. Always have been.”

“Please, Sean,” he tried to find more words, some way to make Sean understand. He’d only ever wanted to keep him safe.

“I won’t lie about this Aaron and you shouldn’t either, Jack’s going to learn everything someday, whether you like it or not. Do you want him to be able to come to you? Or do you want him to be afraid, afraid he can’t trust you to tell him the truth?”

Hotch hung his head. “I’m sorry Sean. I didn’t realize—”

Sean cut him off, “I’m done with this.” Clumsily he pulled something out of his pocket. “Here, give this to Jack, tell him I said happy birthday.”

Hotch wanted to ask him to stay but he’d already turned, walking up the stairs, grabbing the railing every once in a while to correct his balance. Hotch looked at the coin in his hand, a Kennedy half-dollar, remembered giving it to Sean on his tenth birthday. It was the same coin his father had given him when he turned 10, just before Sean was born. He remembered the time of his mother’s pregnancy as being particularly bad. His father had been careful with her, solicitous even, trying to ensure that this baby, this wanted baby, would make it safely into the world. But his temper hadn’t gone anywhere, he simply focused it all on Aaron. He'd had to miss a lot of school that fall.

But then, for no reason discernible to him, his father’s mood had shifted a couple months before the baby was due. He started coming home early, bringing gifts for both of them. Some were even wrapped (by the shop clerk no doubt, but wrapped). The glove had been one of these gifts. It hadn’t fit him right but he had said thank you and hoped he could keep this version of his dad around as long as possible. It lasted until Sean was about six months old. The first night his dad came home drunk and angry, yelling at his mom who just stood there holding Sean, too petrified to move away. Seeing that, the frailty and futility in his mother’s stance, he knew that he had to get in between them. He knew then he would do anything he could to protect his baby brother. Sean was the most perfect thing he had ever seen and he intended to keep it that way. He’d done what he could but all he really knew how to do was lie. It was all he’d ever been taught.

The glove became a nightmare that repeatedly came back to haunt him. His dad would go through fits of wanting to be a “normal family.” He would drag them out to the lake for picnics, would insist Aaron play catch with him in the yard. But he was never coordinated enough and it would always end with his dad frustrated and cursing him. When he was thirteen he started to experience overwhelming fits of anger. They came on suddenly, could be set off by anything. His vision would blur and he would feel a desperate need to lash out against the brutally indifferent world around him. During one of these fits, he threw the glove in the garbage, sick of being humiliated by it. Then, the emotion gone as quickly as it appeared, he promptly forgot about it.

Unfortunately, being an angry adolescent did not lead to the smartest decisions. His father found it in the trash and immediately went looking for his ungrateful son. He’d found him with Sean building tiny forts out of sticks in the back yard. Aaron hadn’t even had a chance to remember that he’d thrown the thing away before it was being used to leave marks on his exposed skin. Hotch wondered that Sean could even remember it, he had been so young. He wondered, too, how he could have forgotten, the sting of his failure to protect his brother from that knowledge making itself clearly felt now.

The coin, however, had been a treasured gift, inspiring him to begin a collection that he hid carefully in the back of a drawer. Something he could pull out and remind himself that there had been good moments. That he hadn’t just imagined them. Looking at his coins offered rare moments of peace in the continuous turbulence of the Hotchner household. When he was twenty and Sean only ten, Aaron had felt guilty for not being around as much. The kid had recently lost his father and was living with a quickly deteriorating mother. So he gave Sean the original half-dollar, hoping that his little brother would be able to find the same comfort in it, maybe even develop his own interest in the hobby. Unsurprisingly, coin collecting never caught on with Sean. He was too loud, too rough to spend hours inside, inspecting tiny characters and noticing slight variations in markings. Hotch had assumed Sean had lost the coin years ago, had even felt a little sad thinking about it being lost. Sean was many things but he never failed to surprise Hotch. He shook his head, clearing the lingering thoughts, needing to focus on what he was going to say to Jack. He turned to walk back to their seats.

Jack watched his approach over his shoulder, “Where’s Uncle Sean?”

“He wasn’t feeling well, he said to wish you happy birthday.”

“You made him leave,” Jack’s small face was contorted into an accusing scowl.

Hotch shook his head, ready to commit to this stretching of the truth but he stopped himself. “He was upset,” he started then paused. He really didn’t want to explain this story.

“Why?”

Hotch rubbed the coin with his thumb, “Well, he didn’t like the story I told you about the glove.”

“Why not?”

“It isn’t the truth and he thought that it was wrong of me to lie.”

Jack was quiet, thinking about this. Hotch waited patiently for him to process. “What’s the true story?”

He hesitated, “It’s not a very nice story Jack.”

“But it’s the truth?”

Hotch nodded, the muscles around his lungs constricting too tightly to speak. Jack looked too serious for a ten year old. “Then that’s the story I want to hear.”

A mix of emotion spread through him, partly anger at Sean for forcing his hand, but also pride in his son’s strength. He sighed, “And I’ll tell you, but not today ok buddy? Today is about you and about good memories.”

“Ok Dad but you have to promise.”

Hotch smiled, “I promise. Here, Uncle Sean wanted me to give you this, it’s your birthday gift.”

Jack took the offered object and looked closely, trying to figure out what it was. The metal was aged making the words hard to read through the patina. “It’s…old?”

Hotch laughed. “It is very old, you’re right.”

“What is it?”

“Well, do you want to hear the story of where it came from?”

“Only if it’s true,” Jack replied, a little smile revealing that he was teasing his dad. When had he gotten so mature?

“Of course, nothing but from now on,” Hotch held up his hand in mock solemnity. Without warning, Jack leaned over and wrapped his small arms as far as they would go around Hotch, pressing his face into his chest. Hotch hugged him back, thankful that despite everything, every stupid mistake and unforgivable failure, he had managed to get this one thing right.

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #sean hotchner #jack hotchner

29 notes · View notes

lifeofkaze · 3 years

Text

An Art of Balance #31

Orion Amari x MC

A/N: Azariah Steele belongs to the fabulous @cursebreakerfarrier

Word Count: ~ 2.500

______________________________________

Chapter 31: A Matter of Nerves

The sun was already hanging low in the sky when Lizzie left the castle in search of her friend. She took a moment to enjoy the last warm rays that were painting the landscape around her in hues of orange before the cold of the night would creep up on them. The air was still pleasantly mellow, the heat of the day radiating off the stone walls of the school. If she listened closely, she could hear voices and music drifting over to her from the training grounds where the pre-match party had undoubtedly begun by now.

Ignoring the compelling beat of what sounded suspiciously like The Weird Sisters playing, Lizzie walked past the path leading around the castle to where the party was going down. She nodded to quite a few people walking into the direction she was coming from, all exchanging astounded looks; after all, Lizzie had become somewhat of a staple on every pre-match party, no matter who would be playing the next day.

But now wasn’t the time to enjoy herself in order to take her mind off tomorrow; she had to check whether Skye was alright and there was only one place where she would be hiding from the rest of the world.

Lizzie was glad when the seemingly endless flow of people lessened and the ground became emptier the further she walked away from the castle. It was a peaceful summer evening, one of those Lizzie liked best; she could hear the crickets chirping in the wide meadows stretching between the castle and the Forbidden Forest, which had already begun to sink into the coming darkness. A light breeze shifted Lizzie’s hair, smelling of warm grass and pine trees.

The Quidditch pitch lay very quiet and deserted in the golden light of the sunset. It was a strange thought that it would be flooded with people tomorrow, the sound of the crowd drowning everything else. It made the silence hanging over the stands and its wooden towers that much more poignant, as if the whole stadium was taking a last breath before the impending storm.

Lizzie had never understood why Skye took her refuge here of all places. She found nothing calming about the atmosphere; if anything, the knowledge that she would have to perform in this exact same spot, which was now lying so peacefully in the evening glow, made Lizzie feel even more anxious. But then again, despite all their similarities, Skye and Lizzie just weren’t alike in some ways.

But when she climbed the rickety stairs and emerged on top of the stands, her eyes swept over the scenery again. The sunlight reflecting off the banners hanging from the wooden towers made them look like they were set on fire, a mixture of golden hues and shades of red. The megaphone attached to Murphy’s commentary box was gleaming so brightly Lizzie had to look away after a moment.

Come to think of it, the place had its own kind of beauty after all.

Lizzie continued walking along the stands, trying to shut out the memory of the last time she’d been here outside of a match. She had spotted Skye as soon as she had entered the wooden construction; she was sitting in the first row a little bit ahead of her, her chin resting on her arms that were crossed on the railing in front of her. Lost in her thoughts, she was watching the goalposts quietly, holding a piece of parchment clutched in her fist.

Lizzie recalled the last time she had come to find Skye hiding from Penny up here. So much had happened since then; it felt more like a lifetime than only one school year ago.

Skye tore her gaze away from the glinting hoops for a moment when she heard her approach. Lizzie quietly sat down next to her and Skye smiled melancholically, nodding her head towards the pitch stretching out below them.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Lizzie replied noncommittally, testing the waters for Skye’s mood.

“Believe it or not, this is how I like it best; the pitch, I mean,” Skye continued as if she hadn’t heard Lizzie’s reply. “When you’re flying by the packed stands and the crowd’s going wild for you, that’s a smashing feeling and all, don’t get me wrong; but no one really appreciates the place itself.”

She pushed herself back from the railing and leaned against the wood making up the footrest of the second row behind her. “A Quidditch pitch is something steady, you know? No matter where you’re going, the pitch remains the same; same lawn, same goalposts, same open sky,” she explained. “I’ve seen more Quidditch pitches than I can remember but when you’re sitting up on the stands all on your own, there’s always something peaceful about it.”

“I guess everyone has their personal way of finding a place of peace,” Lizzie agreed. “Orion meditates, I go to the reserve and you come here.”

“It’s the only place I can have a proper think; it gives me exactly what I need. Before a match, there’s already this incredible energy, as if everything is holding its breath in anticipation; and when all is done, it’s calm again but still so full of life, as if you can still hear the cheers on the stands… ” Skye blinked incredulously as she trailed off. “Blimey, I’m starting to sound like Orion, ain’t I?”

Lizzie chuckled. “A little bit, yeah; but I don’t mind.”

“Of course you don’t,” Skye teased, making Lizzie shove her playfully.

“Low blow, Parkin.” A few days ago, Skye’s remark probably would have hurt her and left her feeling down, but now she was able to just let it pass; ever since talking to Orion back in the changing room, somehow, she felt different.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” Lizzie now got to the point of why they were actually here.

Skye raised her hand still clutching the parchment, which Lizzie assumed was the letter Penny had spoken about.

“It’s my dad,” Skye sighed, “he’s hurt again.”

Lizzie’s face twisted in sympathy. “Oh no, I’m sorry to hear that. Is it something major?”

“No, just a dislocated shoulder, they fixed him right back up. But he’ll be missing the final matches of the season.” She sighed again. “I’ve been knowing that for ages, though.”

Confused, Lizzie tilted her head to the side. “What’s the problem then? What did his letter say?”

“He told me he’s going to be here tomorrow,” Skye told her quietly. “He didn’t tell me earlier because he wanted it to be a surprise.” She opened the folded letter up and quoted, “He ‘wants to watch his little girl hoist up the cup’.”

Skye sighed deeply and gripped the railing in front of them tightly as she shook her head. “I don’t know if I can do this, Lizzie. What if we don’t win? Don’t want to sound like McNully, but our odds really aren’t the best.”

“Come on now, they’re not that bad. We have as good a shot as Gryffindor at winning.”

“Maybe, but a good shot’s not enough,” Skye replied. She was turning the letter around in her hands over and over again, tapping her foot against the wooden balustrade. “Quidditch is the only way I know to really get through to him. He’s expecting only the best from me; I can’t disappoint him.”

Her distress was palpable as she tugged on the hem of her jacket sleeves. “I just want to hear him tell me that he’s proud of me this one time,” she finished quietly.

Lizzie’s face softened at Skye’s confession. “Oh Skye, of course he’s proud of you! How couldn’t he be? You’re his daughter after all, he loves you. He has a weird way of showing it but he does. If he didn’t, he would never be so invested in how our team’s doing; it’s not because of Quidditch, it’s because of you. You could never disappoint him.”

Skye looked at her doubtfully, but also with a touch of hope; she wanted to believe Lizzie was right. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

Not entirely convinced, Skye sighed again. “But what if something goes wrong?”

“Well, with that attitude it certainly will,” Lizzie told her off jokingly. When she saw Skye hanging her head though, she leaned forward to catch her eye.

“Listen up, Parkin, remember what you drilled into me? ‘No heartache, no distractions’. It helped me get a grip again and the same now goes for you.”

“Can’t really call that heartache though,” Skye huffed.

“Maybe not in the traditional way, but it’s definitely distracting you and we don’t need that right now.” Lizzie leaned in and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Apparently, Azariah, the Gryffindor Keeper, has been joking that we won’t get one shot past him tomorrow. Do you think we can let that stand?”

“Absolutely not,” Skye answered immediately, a lopsided grin forming on her face. She was already looking a lot more like her old, fiery self again. “He’ll have no idea what’s coming at him.”

“Exactly,” Lizzie concurred, “And not only will we show Gryffindor how it’s done, but the whole school and your dad are going to see what we’re capable of. We’re going to show your dad something he’s never seen before.”

Skye raised her eyebrows. “What would that be, though? I’m a Parkin after all. Dad’s the one having trained us ever since we were in our nappies. He knows exactly what a Parkin can do on a broomstick.”

“But he won’t be seeing any old Parkin play,” Lizzie corrected her. “What he’ll be seeing is the one and only SkyeParkin; flying ace, Chaser prodigy, nuisance extraordinaire.”

She grinned as Skye started laughing at her over dramatic praises before she continued more seriously, “When you just do what you’re doing best, your dad won’t even know what hit him.”

Wanting to end her pep talk on a lighter note, Lizzie added, “And if that’s still not enough for you, look at it that way: if there ever was an opportunity to show off to Rath, this is it.”

Just like Lizzie had anticipated, Skye guffawed at her last words. “That’s true,” she snickered. “Bet she’s livid they beat us and we’re still playing for the Cup instead of Ravenclaw.”

“Probably,” Lizzie agreed. “I still can’t believe we turned the season around that way,” she contemplated after another moment. “The win against Slytherin was quite the team effort, wasn’t it?”

“That it was; our team’s a smashing bunch.” Skye smiled openly at her. “I know I’m not exactly the most popular one with our mates, but I still couldn’t imagine a life without you lot anymore. Orion has a point somewhere when he calls us his family.”

Lizzie smiled back at her, happy to see her friend’s mood being lifted. “I guess he has.”

Skye’s gaze swept over the stands and down to the pitch, where it lingered on the goalposts once again. With a happy sigh she leaned back and watched the last traces of red fade from the darkening evening sky.

“Remember the first time we’ve been up here, way back in our second year?”

Lizzie chuckled at the memory. “Of course I do; can’t believe how long ago that was. I tried helping you with Charms; I still can’t believe you maimed that poor book like you did. And made me ride a jinxed broomstick,” she couldn’t help but add wryly.

Skye started giggling as well. “And set some Bludgers on you,” she recalled cheerily.

“And set some Bludgers on me.” Lizzie didn’t quite share her amusement, though.

Still laughing, Skye nudged her with her elbow. “But look how far you’ve come since then. I don’t know that many who can hold a candle to you now.”

Blushing at the compliment, Lizzie twisted the ends of her ponytail between her fingers and smirked. “I’ll give you that, it worked. Although your teaching methods definitely weren’t what you’d call conventional.”

Skye only grinned at that. “Maybe, but neither one of us is conventional either.”

“True,” Lizzie laughed lightly. “I’m glad everything went how it did, though.”

“Me too; if anyone had told me back then we’d be mates I’d have called them bonkers, but here we are. You’re certainly one of the best mates I’ve ever had,” Skye continued in a more serious fashion, “cheers for putting up with me all of the time; I know I can be quite the handful.”

Lizzie shook her head. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

They were silent for a bit, listening to the wind that had picked up rustling through the House banners below them.

It was Skye who spoke up again after some time. “Can’t believe the year’s almost over now. I’m sorry it wasn’t the best one for you, though; this whole situation is sucking big time. I’m not saying that because of the team, but because of you.”

Her eyes flickered over to Lizzie momentarily before she continued. “Maybe you and Orion will find a way after all. If any of my mates deserve to be happy, it’s you guys.”

Lizzie sighed; she had hoped this topic wouldn’t come up. “I think I made my peace with it, in a way. It’s not like I can change the way things are now anyway. It’s my fault everything blew up in my face, so it’s only fair I have to deal with the consequences now.”

She shifted her weight and made a conscious effort not to fiddle with the birthstone pendant she knew was resting under her jersey. “But let’s not talk about this now, alright? All I want to focus onis the match and getting our hands on that God forsaken Cup. After that, we’ll see what happens; it’s one step after the other.”

Lizzie clapped her hands on her knees, the sharp sound echoing across the silent stands and rose to her feet. “Speaking about it, my personal next step is going to the pre-match party, they’re probably waiting for us by now. Are you coming?”

To her surprise, Skye shook her head. “No, go ahead without me, maybe I’ll catch you later. I want to stay here for a bit now.”

Once again, her green eyes followed the perimeter of the stands facing them. Darkness had begun to settle over the pitch, the commentary box was barely discernible anymore.

“Need to set my mind for tomorrow properly. You’re right, Jameson, it’s full focus on winning now, everything else has to wait until after that bloody Cup is ours; it’s one step after the other.”

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #quidditch #orion amari #skye parkin #lizzie jameson #aob #art of balance #the quidditch squad #not much longer to go #redoing this cause tumblr fucked the first attempt up #im mad

19 notes · View notes

mist-sly · 3 years

Text

Sing of the moon

Chapter One: Coffee talks

This is a Wolfstar MMA AU that's on AO3 that I have been writing. However I'm gonna start posting it on here too because its easier for me to kept track of what I wrote. Any ways Hope you enjoy!

It was the biggest fight of the year. The middle-weight title on the line. Millions of people watching around the world. The champ, Sirius Black facing one of his biggest rivals, Severus Snape. It was a long overdue fight, the two constantly targeting each other on social media and making comments to the press.

The hype had been real. Every press conference was another layer of added tension and anticipation to the fight. No one wanted to miss it. Sirius was athletic and had every technique known to fighting in his arsenal. A predictable fight many had said. Others argued that Snape’s slippery, submission style could be enough to beat the champ.

Either way, it had drawn the attention of everyone. Even those who shied away from the bright lights of UFC. It lured those who lived in the shadows of the fighting scene.

A large flat screen TV had been set up in the old underground stadium. A crowd of fighters all gathered round to watch, each one sitting on some old create or broken chair. “Its not looking good for him wolfy,” said a teenager with dyed grey hair. He was sitting cross legged on the floor. The TV screen reflecting of his blue eyes. “Ill say. Every punch Black is receiving is drawing blood,” a big, bulky red-haired man said. He scratched at his beard and looked over to his left staring at the young man who was sitting back on the old, patchy red couch. The young man’s eyes darted around the screen, zoning in to one thing specifically as Snape aimed a body shot. “You see something, don’t you wolfy.” The other fighters dragged their eyes away from the screen to look at the young man.

Remus Lupin sat forwards, his elbows resting on his thighs, his hands covering his mouth and nose as he stared at the TV. Remus’s golden amber eyes narrowed right as Snape connect a light jab to Sirius face. He watched as a small cut formed on the champ’s cheek, drawing blood. He drew his hands away from his face showing his frown.

“There’s always something with an opponent like Snape,” he said in a low voice. The camera angle changed on the screen. A close up of Sirius’s face, enlarged for everyone to see. One eye was swollen shut, the other turning a mix of blue and purple. You could not see where cuts began, and trails of blood ended.

This should not have been the outcome. A total of three rounds the fight went on for. Thirteen minutes and a gory scene that would make any viewer feel sick. Three minutes into the third round and it was over. The champ got hit and did not get back up. The group of fighters where quiet. This should not have been the outcome.

However, everything happens for reason.

It had been exactly thirty-seven days since he lost. Thirty-seven days of thinking how? How did he lose that fight? Sirius had gone through it a thousand and one times in his head. He was quicker than Snape. Had a harder punch than Snape and was far more intelligent when it came to thinking on his feet?

Sirius shook his head to rid him off the thoughts. He was on his daily run to clear his head, not bring back more memory’s and questions. He stopped, his breaths heavy, panting as he ran a hand through his incredibly dark locks of hair. “Shit,” he muttered as he looked around. The area was unfamiliar to him. Small shops and old building surrounding the street he had just came down. Clearly it was in the more run-down part of Gryffindor. Sirius didn’t even know there was a run-down part of Gryffindor.

He spotted a small coffee shop further on down the street. A few people where sitting outside it but other than that, the street was relatively quiet.

A bell rang over head as he entered. The smell of coffee and baked goods immediately hitting him like a bus. It was warm inside, a delightful change from the nippy autumn air outside. The walls were painted a vibrant orange, the furniture looking old giving the whole coffee shop a warm and vintage feel.

“Hi, what can I get you?” asked a girl behind the counter. She had long, flowing red hair and beautiful green eyes. A sweet and pleasant smile on her face. “Sorry, I’m a bit lost. Could you tell me how to get to the upper side oh and a coffee, black?” he asked the girl.

The girl snorted turning away from him. “An up sider? How did you end up down here?” the girl asked as she started to brew a fresh pot of coffee. “Went for a run, got lost in my head.” Sirius give the girl a smirk as she looked over at him. Her eyes travelled up and down his body, taking in his appearance.

“Guess that explains why your sweaty. What about the bruises?” she asked staring at the faint mix of yellow and brown that covered half his face. Sirius smirk dropped. The girl knew she struct a nerve but before she could apologise, the bell above the door went again.

“Hey Lils. Can I get the regular for the trio and a peppermint tea for me?” Said a young man who walked towards Sirius. Tall, Sirius first thought upon seeing him. Skinny too. He watched as the young man walked towards him. His hair was curly, a caramel brown colour that Sirius doesn’t think he has ever seen before. He wore an old orange jumper that had seen better days and a pair of grey sweats that were rolled up at his ankles. Sirius looked at the bottom on his sweats surprised, surly no one that tall would need to roll up their cloths.

The young man nodded at Sirius before standing beside him at the counter. “Three sugars wolfy?” the girl, ‘Lils’, asked. The young man nodded.

It was quiet after that. The sound of coffee machines running and ‘Lils’ humming echoing around the small coffee shop.

“Here you go Up sider. One Back coffee to go.” The girl slid the coffee over to Sirius before scribbling something down on a piece of paper. “Up sider?” The man asked suddenly. Sirius looked over at him. His amber eyes sparling with curiously as he looked at Sirius.

It was now that Sirius got a good look at the young man. He had handsome features, that was for sure. He had a nice jawline, not to strong and not to soft. Freckles littered his face likes stars in the night sky. He has long eyelashes that seemed to make his amber eyes brighter.

He would have looked soft, too soft, if it weren’t for the scars on his face. He had one across the bridge of his nose and another one on his left cheek going down to his jawline. The young man had a fresh cut above his right eye that was bruised.

However, as Sirius looked at the man, the man also looked at Sirius. That was not good in Sirius’s head. The last thing he needed, was for the media to know where he is.

“You shouldn’t have lost your fight,” the young man said bluntly as Lils set the piece of paper down with directions in front of Sirius. The statement had taken Sirius by surprise. So, the guy knew him, that was great but to say something like that irritated Sirius. He didn’t see Mr tall and skinny facing a world class fighter like Snape.

“Excuse me. I’d like to see yo-“Sirius started only to be cut off by the young man saying, “Snape’s gloves were loaded.” Sirius blinked at the man, “tampered with,” he added in case Sirius didn’t understand.

Sirius couldn’t help but burst out laughing. Who the hell was this guy? Some losers who clearly knows nothing. Sirius took a deep breath and looked at the man. “Look. I’m not sure how much you know after fighting but official gloves have to be worn, not to mention that the gloves got checked and nothing was off with either one.”

The man however kept looking at Sirius with those amber eyes. “That wouldn’t necessarily matter. There’s always ways around the system.” He shrugged. Sirius could feel the laughter starting to bubble in him stomach again. “Ok then. Enlighten me, how were the gloves tampered with?” The man narrowed his eyes, a darker look falling over his once soft face. “A layer of padding was taken out of the gloves. That would have been obvious if they had not replaced it with something else. That other layer would have had to been roughly the same weight as the padding. My guess is that they used soft cast.” Sirius snorted.

Sirius knew what soft cast was. What fighter didn’t? It was an old scandal back in the day with a boxer. It had long since been forgotten though. The man continued, however. “It would make the hits harder on your face not to mention as the soft cast scratched the leather of the glove it would wear the material down.” He raised an eyebrow at Sirius to see if he was keeping up.

Sirius nodded and gestured for the man to continue, taking a sip of his coffee. Sighing the man rubbed his eyes, as if he were trying to teach a child how to read a simple word that they couldn’t quite grasp. “The soft cast would scratch against your skin and the impact of each punch would increase as the match went on because the cast would harden over time. Didn’t you notice when you were fighting, how the first hit was not hard but still drew blood? How as the fight went on Snape put less effort into each hit but was still able to increase the impact every time?” Sirius stopped drinking. His coffee cup frozen at his smooth lips. He blinked at the man as he thought back to the fight. When Snape landed his first punch, he was off balance. The punch shouldn’t have had enough force to bruise his cheek so badly, the way it did.

The more Sirius thought about it, the more he realized how much of what the tall, skinny man was saying, was true.

He shook his head and narrowed his eyes on the man just as ‘Lils’ brought over four take away drinks in coffee cups. “Here you go wolfy! One hot chocolate with cream for Seb, a black coffee with two sugars for Harley, warmed milk with coco powder on top for Cain and your peppermint tea, three sugars,” ‘Lils’ said happily with a bright smile. The man, ‘wolfy’, nodded his thanks and took the four drinks.

“Wait! How did you know about the gloves?” Sirius asked before ‘wolfy’ could leave. “I watched your fight. Noticed what was happening and put it together with an old street fighting trick.” He shrugged and opened the door with his back.

“A little too good to be true, don’t you think?” Sirius said with a laugh, but the young man didn’t laugh back. He shrugged and turned his back to Sirius. “If you don’t believe me then check for yourself.”

Sirius watched as the door closed behind the man. He stayed in the coffee shop, not taking his silver eyes away from the door. The conversation replaying in his head like a broken record. He turned back around to ‘Lils’ who was wiping the countertop. “Do you have a phone I could borrow,” he said in a rush. Like somehow, he would forget everything the man just told him.

The girl smiled at him and nodded. She took out her iPhone from the pocket of her green apron and handed it to Sirius. He wasted no time in dialing a number. Listening as it rang in his ear.

“Hello. Yeah, James it’s me. I need you and your dad to check something out for me……”

P.s this is my first proper time writing so I'm not the best.

#wolfstar #remus Lupin #Sirius black #MMA AU #Sing of the Moon #chapter 1 #lily evens

37 notes · View notes

jvdes · 3 years

Text

david? it’s gretchen. i’m just returning your call about your niece.

alternatively titled: we’re all here for a fucking reason, you know. you don’t get sent some place like this for no fucking reason.

tw: violence, abuse, alcohol, vomit

it’s october 23rd, 2020, and it’s not like she’s not trying. you can say what you want about jude - a liberty nobody’s been willing to pass up before - but she is trying. contrary to popular belief, jude doesn’t, like, get off on being in a lousy fucking mood. she doesn’t like being miserable, it’s definitely not her big fucking goal. it’s just, misery seems to love her. but she’s a fighter, and she’s not gonna lay down and take it - she’s not gonna let it swallow her whole. not without a struggle, at least.

so, it’s the anniversary of her mom’s death, but she’s making an effort, you know? and at 8:30 pm, she’s sober, she’s made it to the weekend without getting in trouble at school, and she’s pretty dead set on pretending that nothing is as fucked up as it is, or she’ll at least die trying.

she’s even - get this - displaying a little bit of school spirit.

2:07 pm

“are you going to the football game?” clara wilkerson had asked in sixth period chem lab, and jude tried not to laugh. it was important that she didn’t laugh, because clara, her chem lab partner, was pretty damn hot. she was smarter than jude, a pretty brunette with big green eyes, and she seemed to think jude wasn’t a total waste of space, so, you know. big win for jude, who was hoping that, sooner or later, she might be able to get in clara’s pants.

“i dunno if that’s my thing,” jude had shrugged. she had nothing against sports, and she had nothing against standing around outside at night, but it still wasn’t an activity she’d ever been dying to partake in.

“what?” clara feigned shock. “watching the eleven meanest guys in our school homoerotically tackle the eleven meanest guys from our rival school while sipping watered-down hot chocolate that burns off your taste buds? what’s not to like?”

“well, when you put it like that,” jude laughed.

“exactly. it’ll be fun, you’ll see. here, give me your hand,” she instructed, and jude handed it over with a skeptical look. clara proceeded to write her address on jude’s hand, which was maybe some kind of weird power play and/or mating ritual, since clara had jude’s number, and could have absolutely just texted it to her. “so, you’ll pick me up at 6:45?” clara asked. and jude, to her credit, agreed.

10:38 pm

it’s not like it was easy, pretending that it wasn’t the day that it was, that there wasn’t that heat beneath jude’s skin. pretending that she was distracted, like it was okay. nothing’s ever easy, right? and it wasn’t okay, not exactly - there was the clipped tone of some of her jokes, a little too high, a little too thin. something inside of her chest at the center, aching a little.

but it was almost okay, or she could almost pretend that it was almost okay, and it was really nice to not be at home. it was nice to have someone to laugh at her jokes, nice to be standing around in the cold autumn night under the too-bright stadium lights.

and now, as she braces herself against the wind, walking through the parking lot hand-in-hand with clara, she thinks that maybe she almost had fun. “you’re smiling!” clara announces gleefully, and jude looks over at her. “told you it’d be cool. like i said - what’s not to like? you, me, a bunch of screaming teenagers around us; it was fun.”

jude grins over at her. the parking lot is busy, now, hoards of kids moving en masse from the bleachers, body heat between them in the sharp, cold breeze. “oh, sure,” jude agreed. “i’m all about football now. you’ve converted me.”

so it’s kind of nice. except - well. they’re walking, and there’s this plane overhead. and it’s such a small thing, jude knows that, but her smile fades all the same, because it’s like this bitter fucking reminder. like the world is mocking her for being stupid enough to think that she’d ever be okay, that she’d ever be able to make it through a night without spiraling, least of all tonight. for being stupid enough to think she deserved that much in the first place.

without thinking much of anything at all, she turns to kiss clara then, under the distant whirr of the plane, as if maybe the noise of their breathing will be enough to drown it out. it’s their first kiss, jude’s hands on clara’s hips, like blood on blood alone will be enough to ground jude, enough to let her forget. like if she couldn’t just say it ( any of it, what plagues her ), then being touched can be enough to anchor her to the ground. always a valiant effort with her, right?

but then they’re standing in a flood of light, a truck full of boys stopped in front of them. the boys in the back whistle at them, and the one driving hangs his head out of the window, face an ugly sneer. jude recognizes him, of course - just some asshole, like all the boys are, but she knows him; he beat the shit out of her at a party for talking to his ex, and jude had ended up in the hospital with 47 stitches. “moved on from your regular sluts, bright?” he says, and jude pulls away from clara. clara rolls her eyes, but jude, she squares her shoulders and flips them off, squinting in the light.

“they’re just being jerks,” clara said quietly, “let’s go.” jude’s car isn’t that far away. they could just go. they could just walk away. but when was jude ever going to leave well enough alone? that heat, that raw anger pulsing beneath her skin, barely contained all day, waiting for any excuse to slither out of her like a sickness. just give me a fucking reason. isn’t that what she’s always thinking?

“the fuck did you just say?” jude challenges, and clara tenses beside her, gripping jude’s arm through her jacket.

“just surprised you found someone willing to be out in public with you,” he said, opening the door and approaching them. he moved toward them in that quick, confident way that boys seem to always have about them. he was close to them now, so close, and fucking with them. fucking with them just because he could, just because he saw them, because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and boys love seeing if they can scare girls. “not that i meant to interrupt,” he adds, skeezy, gross. “go on. go ahead, i’m happy to watch. we can all have a little fun here, right? after party, yunno,” he continues, and jude can smell the alcohol on his breath, that’s how close he is to her.

she doesn’t stand down, though, not even as clara’s nails bare into her skin even through her jacket. it’s that wicked, wild heat inside of her, that vicious anger. ( you’re like a feral fucking dog, clara will yell at her in a few minutes, once it’s all been said and done. ) “he’s not worth it,” clara whispers, “we can just walk away.”

jude does not just walk away. “get back in your shitty fucking truck, and get the fuck away from me, or i’ll kick your ass,” she says, trying to feel taller than she really is. he has at least five inches on her, maybe more, but she crosses her arms anyways.

( she must know by now, though, that there’s no way this is going to end well, right? maybe she had been trying, maybe she had been sober and not in any trouble so far, but she must know now that the choice to not walk away is the fatal one, right? which just goes to show, she knows: anything that happens next is deserved. anything that happens next is just her doing it to herself. )

“oh, yeah. ‘cause we all remember how well that worked out last time,” the boy says, and that’s enough.

“jude,” clara says, “walk the fuck away.”

the high school parking lot hasn’t been redone since 1976, and the concrete parking blocks are falling apart, crumbling where they stand, chunks of concrete strewn around the parking lot. maybe, if anybody’d cared enough to try and fix up the parking lot any time in the last 20 years, there wouldn’t have been a chunk of concrete at jude’s feet. and without a chunk of concrete at her feet, she certainly wouldn’t have sent it flying through the windshield of the truck. but there was, and she did, and so the cop that parked in the high school parking lot during school events came over, and jude wound up being driven home in a cop car.

but she’d tried, you know?

11:21 pm

not that it mattered. not that she’d say so to her uncle, who dragged her inside by the collar, a hand on her neck she could just not shrug off. “what in the everloving fuck is wrong with you?” he asked, as soon as the door was shut behind them, closing out the cool autumn air and leaving room for only guilt.

it was a question that she was uninterested in answering, so she raised a middle finger behind her as she climbed the stairs. she moved to slip into her bedroom, but he followed her like a shadow, gripping her by the arm before she could manage. she whipped around, and she wanted so desperately to be calm, but she wasn’t. “have you got any idea how fucking lucky you are, jude? that they’re not pressing charges, that you’re here right now, and not in a fucking cell? jesus christ! and you’re looking at me like you’re pissed off. who the fuck do you think you are?”

jude glared up at him, chest heaving, eyes dark and wild. what a miserable fucking question. “i think,” she began flatly, “that i’m a future player for the Mets.” there was that vein on his neck again, and she knew, of course, that she was only making things worse for herself. that’s what she does best, but it’s okay, everyone - she’s going to get what she deserves. “it was a good throw,” she added, “you should have seen it. you would have been proud.”

“did you think of that on the way home?” he asked quietly. he, too, was trying to pretend he was calm, and doing a shitty job at it. “how long did that one take you, jude? ten minutes? twenty?”

“i thought of it on the fly, actually,” she answered, and he laughed - an unpleasant, humorless, bitter little laugh in the quiet, airless space of the house. “it’s a talent. a calling, even.”

“your calling is being a destructive piece of shit. good for fucking nothing, i swear. have you ever taken responsibility for a single thing in your goddamn life? no. everything is always somebody else’s fault, right, jude? just like your fucking mother. you’re not a future player for the Mets. I’ll tell you where you’ll be in two years, jude. you’ll be dead, or you’ll be in jail. you wanna talk about being proud? your mother, she was no prize, but even she would be so fucking ashamed of you.” it’s the way his voice bleeds into a vocal fry when he’s angry, the way his eyes burn.

she closed the door to her room behind her, and david let her. she allowed herself a minute or two to get herself together, shaking on her bed, before she slipped out of her bedroom window, into the cold night.

12:12 am

she’d tried, right? but that had gotten her nowhere, so obviously, it was a total waste of time. that’s what she was thinking as she sipped shitty vodka from the little bottle she’d pocketed from the skeezy liquor store down the street: what a waste of fucking time.

tonight was always going to end this way, wasn’t it? there was no reality where she drove clara home and kissed her goodnight; jude didn’t deserve that. there was only now, here, leaning over the railing of the overpass, vision drunk and swimming, thinking about what a waste of fucking space she was. she polished off the bottle, then flung the bottle into the street, closing her eyes and listening for the cracking noise of glass meeting asphalt.

maybe i’ll go get high, she thought, then turned around and started walking against the wind.

2:08 am

david bright stood around the corner of the wall, a metal baseball bat in his hands. it was the anniversary of his sister’s death - or had been, until midnight - and somebody had broken into his fucking house. well, broken in was a strong word to use, since he’d forgotten to lock the deadbolt in lieu of who had greeted him at the door the last time he’d opened it, so a bobby pin or a credit card was enough to jimmy it open. still - he could hear the culprit moving around in the dark, and from where he stood, he could see the front door, still wide open, swinging lazily on it’s hinges, letting in a draft, an open square of darkness in the wall like a missing tooth.

he was going to handle it, though. he’d had a bit to drink, but you don’t play piano for years without learning some hand-eye coordination, and whoever it was that was stumbling around his house after leaving the door wide open behind them, he could handle them. he was a man who handled things, wasn’t he?

he could see their shadow, swaying in the night, in the moonlight, and he turned the corner, swinging the bat as he did, proud of himself for catching the intruder off guard.

jude swore as the bat hit her shoulder, and, far from sober, that one hit was enough to send her slipping to the ground, landing on her ass.

david saw her, then - that flash of red hair, the wide, frightened eyes, the jacket that had belonged to his sister. he’d deny it, of course, even to himself - he’d thought she was an intruder, right?

( of course, maybe he always knew it was her, even before he grabbed the bat, even before the first swing. why else would he not call the police? )

he’d heard her voice, though, after he’d hit her for the first time, but he swung again anyways, like it was a movie he was watching, like things were already in motion, like they were outside of his control. so he swung again, his position readjusted to hit her in her new space on the floor, and there was that loud, sick and vicious sound of metal hitting skull. a horrific thud.

instinctively, slowly, a wounded animal, jude curled into a ball, arms above her head in defense, and he swung a final time, leaving an angry red mark on the soft flesh of her skin. “stop!” she slurred in the darkness, tasting blood.

jude saw, even through her swimming vision, that single flash on his face, that crack in the facade; an expression so familiar it made her feel sick. that horror. what have i done? anger that’s gotten the best of you. a burning under your skin. some things run in the family, she thought dizzily, terribly, and then, it was like it had never happened, and despite what had all just transpired in no time at all, despite the smell of alcohol coming so strongly from the both of them, he was calm again.

“you forgot your key,” he said, maybe as a question or maybe as a statement, and he took a shuddering breath. they stayed there, jude gazing up at him.

to david, her glassy, dilated eyes seemed to look right through him, a fever-bright stare that seemed to burn into his skin like a brand. ( had she always looked that much like delilah? with those fucking eyes, so fucking green? jesus. )

it was quiet for a long time before he finally said, “something needs to change, jude.” jude laughed, so quiet and so weak it was almost a rasp. and how.

without saying any more, he turned around, disappearing into the hall with footsteps that echoed in jude’s mind, making her head ache furiously. she sat there as he left her behind, body aching like one complete wound.

shame and anger spun in dizzy circles around her head, and it was a long time before she thought she’d be able to make it upstairs to her bedroom. she dragged herself up, eyes closed, her only true sense the metallic taste of blood. he’s going to kill me, she thought, as she closed her bedroom door behind her. he’s going to kill me one day, and i’m going to let him. and that will be on me.

she wants to break something. she wants to break. she wants the room to stop spinning, she wants the pain to stop, for the pain to get worse. FUCK! this is something she owes to herself. letting men do what they want to her - since when is that her? and her uncle was right, she knows; her mom would be so fucking ashamed. jude is so fucking ashamed.

something needs to change. she barely stifles a sob. i am so fucking spineless. holy shit.

she barely made it to the bathroom, but she did, vomiting vodka and stomach acid as she clung to the porcelain. please let me black out, she thought. please let me black out. i don’t wanna remember this. please let me just forget this.

she did black out. when she finally managed to stand on two feet, to crawl out of bed and drag herself into the bathroom to vomit again, she saw her reflection in the mirror, the skin of the right side of her face an angry swell of black and red, and she thought to herself, i must have been in a fight at a party or something. just a fight, or something like that. some stupid fight.

#／ JUDE . ABOUT !#wilds.musings #this took me like 4 days and its STILL very bad.... embarrasing #n e ways....

5 notes · View notes

dabis-devil · 4 years

Note

Could you pretty please do Shinso, Dabi, Overhaul, Kirishima, Shiggy, Bakugo and Tamaki with an S/O with is a ballet dancer and looks fragile but can actually kick ass? Sorry for the long ask but I just really adore you’re stuff!!!!!

Pretty Poison

Aw, thank you anon! Okay, I'd just like to apologize for holding off on my asks. I've seen busy and not feeling well lately, but I'm getting to my requests now! Love you all 🖤

Shinsou Hitoshi

Shinsou is an observational guy

He figured you weren't as innocent as you looked before you proved him right

All of which he figured out with distance.

When set to spar together, he was avoiding all of your agile moves, each one of your attacks

You were pressed to do give it your 100%

With a swing, you attempted to go for his neck with your fist, the purple haired man catching your fist.

He tried to get a blow at your torso, you swatted his fist.

when you tried a strike with the other, he caught that one too.

His leg scooped in the back of your knees, the two of you toppling to the ground.

Toshi is a good boi, he made sure you wouldn't get hurt before he went through with such a calculated move

“ oh kitten- ” he chuckled, tired eyes lock in onto your own. “ nobody expects this of you. . Only fools will underestimate you. ” his tone was eerie

You used your propped up knee to push yourself over. Turning the tables, Toshi on bottom now. “ nice to know. ” you mumbled with a savage smile.

Next thing you know you were helping each other up and leaving the training grounds.

Its when you and Shinsou went on your first date that he learned you were a dancer.

He didn't seem too phased honestly, but he thought it was cool!

“ Can I go to your next recital? ” he asked, thumb brushing against your cheekbone.

You said yes

Before the start of the recital, your eyes wandered endlessly around the stadium.

' where is he? ' your lips curling into a frown.

Maybe he decided he didn't care?

Little did you know, he was in the front row. Just dressed in a suit. . Classy Shinsou is rare

When you leaped across the stage, his large purple orbs followed your angelic form like a puppy eyeing a treat.

He isn't one to pump you up with compliments, but when you finally realized he was staring with a strong force of admiration, that said all.

He would stand and applaud afterward, meeting you in the back room for a bland congratulations and soft hug.

He'll be at every single recital

Every. One.

Dabi

Your innocence was cute, don't get him wrong

But his goal was to corrupt you.

He would place wondering hands on your body, expecting you to become a shell of a human and color to drain from your face

Instead your expression turned playful as you prompted him

Sinful things probably followed

And that's how he learned you werent fragile

With that in mind, this man had nO control

You already know a relationship with him entails dirtiness to keep it sPiCy

And I kid you not, your gracefulness drives him over the edge

Your movement was so controlled it's just- *chefs kiss*

The part of the town the compound was in definitely wasn't a good part of town

So you got harrased :((

“ hey pretty lady, ” a drunk man cooed, his large and sweaty hands running down your arm. “ come with me to the back. . ” he smiled and roughly tugged at your arm.

You could have easily shown this man a piece of your mind. The ghastly shrieks that filled the air stopped you though.

Dabi melted his face off, then left with you like nothing happened.

This why people don't mess with you anymore

Again, this is what makes the two of you a good team. He has your back, you have his, but you can both take care of yourselves.

He didn't really care to know you danced

It's just a hobby, when should he care? Do what you want.

If you dragged him off to recitals or anything don't be surprised if you see him playing on his phone or otherwise not paying attention.

Gives 0 fucks.

If for any reason he is watching

Probably because he think you look sexy.

Maybe it's the outfit, maybe it the way your body flows, who knows?

If you come to him bothered that he doesn't like your dancing, he will either

reassure you that he thinks you look incredibly sexy when you dance, and try to pay a little more attention to your routines

No promises^

Brush off your feelings and move on

Really isn't his cup of tea but A for effort

Bonus: he's asked you to dance on/for him

You're a dancer, of course you know how to lap dance. Of CoUrSe.

Idiot

“ doll, why don't you come show me some of those moves? ” he asks cheekily, already leading you back to the bedroom.

You still did. And you did well. So that's a win on his part-

Overhaul

Kai could appreciate your dancing, there was some sort of elegance in it.

The way your body moved from one figure to another just had his eyes drawn to you like magnets.

The fact that he kidnapped you for entertainment was besides the point

Well initially

You were given the option to leave, but you didn't.

Same offer does NOT apply now that you made your choice

The reason you were taken is for your doe eyes and soulful smile

You put up a damn good fight

But in the end you were being jumped by a few gang members.

Not to mention your escape attempts?

So thought out, and you came this close to busting out of the secret door each time.

Kai’s eyes burned holes hrough your skull when you were restrained to your bed.

“ love, why would you try to leave me? You know bad things could happen. . ” his tone sent goosebumps down your back

He's just possessive

Other than that, you can pretty much do what you want

So long as you stay in base

He turned a room into a dance studio for you

That's just how he shows affection.

he wants to sit and watch you dance until your knees buckle.

You bet your ass he will too.

“ where are you going? ” his eye brows knitted. “ I'm not done watching. ” he growled lowly, as you returned to your craft with a pout.

But that's fine,,,,

Even though he's not a huge fan of touching you

He gives the best massages.

(I'm actually so so sorry for this one, I haven't written Kai and oh my gOd I need to fix this characterization)

Eijiro Kirishima

This beautiful rock man

He thinks you are so adorable.

Literally precious okay, even before romantic ties developed

But when you become a badass out of nowhere, he's kinda stunned

You turned to Mineta and told him off for objectifying you, finishing that confrontation with a kick right to his crotch.

The grape boy wheezed and began to cry, but you walked off unbothered.

Of course Kiri, who had been on his way to save you from his perverted classmate, was like- “ huh?? ”

You being anything but reserved was a new emotion.

He didn't mind of course, he was excited to learn more about you.

And when he learns you're a dancer?

Oh boy.

Eiji supports you. Without a question!

And that's on being manly.

He shows up with roses to every single recital you have, dressed in fine attire, and will be the loudest person in the crowd.

“ WOoOOo!! YOU DID AMAZING Y/N! I LOVE YOUU!! ” He shouted from the top of his lungs.

Actually the first time he said I love you

Lowkey has good moves himself

You'll see that when he's dancing around the dorms to some cheesy music denki or Mina played

If you need help with a move he will put sweat, blood, and tears into perfecting it with you.

He literally won't shut up about you

When he's with his friends?

“ she's so beautiful! You should see her dance too! ” he gushed

Family?

“ y/n is so amazing. . (More babbles about you) ”

A wall?

“ I love y/n so much- ”

Just love him back okay

Tomura Shigaraki

This crusty man has his head in the game and all, but he totally swept you to the side.

He wants things to be blunt and direct

So when you were over there looking like a pure angel he just thought you were

As apart of the liberation front, he expected you to be there for covert missions, and not throw yourself into battle

But when you were over here taking out three heroes simultaneously??

It dawned on him that you were so much more useful.

It had been a late night and Shigs couldn't sleep, so he planned to hang out with you.

Your light shone under the crack of your door, prompting him to ask for your company

He placed a soft knock on your door to which there was no reply.

Instead, the melody of soft classical tunes drifted to his ears. The door creaked open, allowing the blue haired man a peak of insight as to what you were doing.

He saw your figure parading around the room in small leaps, harmonious twirls, and gentle hand movements.

His crimson eyes widened at what he saw. Not only did he realize how beautiful you are, but you were so soothing to watch?

For a little while he will beat around the bush

“ y/n, what were you up to last night? ” he asked, sounding as innocent as a mere child. “ hmm? ” his hands weaved together under his chin, leg swing in under his barstool.

Like when you already know something but you ask somebody anyways just to see what they would say yknow

He would make this one of his favorite things to do, watch you dance.

Over time you caught him staring through your door, and you weren't exactly happy about it

“ tomura! ” you squeaked, catching a glimpse of his florescent red orbs.

You raced over to the door, pausing your music with a fast tap to the pad of your phone.

“ why were you watching me? ” you frowned at your boyfriend, your shoulders building tense.

“ y/n. . ” he mumbled, hand searching for his agitated neck. “ I just couldn't look away. ”

Katsuki Bakugo

Bakugo did not underestimate your abilities. Ever.

From his experiences, he knows not to judge a person's abilities until you get a taste of what they can do.

He tried so hard to manipulate you into using your quirk, or just not being the peaceful person you came off as.

He faaaaailed

When you got to knew him better, you didn't hesitate to mop the floor with him.

He's impressed by your effort, so points there

He definitely liked your soft persona, on the contrary to his.

He won't tell you that though.

The closer you two got, the more he would step in to defend you and stick by your side.

The one time you snapped on somebody, he was left shaking in his boots.

He hasn't seen you behave like that. . He liked it 😏

Now don't get me wrong-

Baku didn't care for your dancing.

He didn't give a single fuck, okay

But whenever he actually saw your graceful dances on stage???

Consider him your biggest fan

But you wouldn't ever find that out. At least he thoughts so.

“ I have another recital tonig- ” you were cut off by an irritated Baku.

“ if you want me to go, just ask, dumbass! Stop whining. ” he snapped, leaving you blinking and dumbstruck

go off lord explosion murder-

He's in the front row just sitting there like

W O W

You already know he'll praise you for your preformance, whether those compliment were backhanded or of pure intent.

And if anybody dare thinks about down talking your dancing? They will be ripped. ..He would tear them apart with him bare hands. no cap.

If you absolutely amaze him, you will get the one in a lifetime chance to watch him stand up and scream your name with a proud grin, something along the lines of-

“ LOOK AT Y/N! (pronoun)'S DOING FUCKING AMAZING, JUST FUCKING LOOK AT MY BABY- ” his hand directed towards you, and you couldn't help but burn a shade of deep rose.

Tamaki Amajiki

Before you two were in a relationship, you had him fooled.

Like Tamaki, you look like a cinnamon roll, but can murder somebody.

You are commonly underestimated, which gives you the upper hand. A lot.

Tamaki taught you how to use that

Training with him was just so sweet.

He'd be scared to hurt you though

Let's add to the fact that since you like like an easy target, you would probably get messed with.

He would be the first to step in and protect you

Despite the fact his hands are shaking, and he stutters a mess.

“ my suneater. . My hero. ” you planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

Here lies Tamaki Amajiki, Rest In Peace

Don't even get me started on your dancing.

He loves it! Absolutely melts his heart.

When he watches you at recitals, rehearsals, maybe even in the dorms, he feels the depth of your movement.

He becomes a flustered mess in the distance,,,,

“ I can't believe thats my bunny, she's doing so well! ” he quietly cooed from the audience.

He will not miss any of your recitals. Unless it's an emergency.

Even then, get prepared for massive cuddles when he gets back.

He'll feel guilty about not being there, he's more upset than you are.

“ Tama it's fine- ” you chuckled softly, cradling your boyfriend in a hug.

“ are you sure bunny? I'm sure you did amazing, and I missed it! ” he whined, fighting the urge to plant his face onto a wall and never look back.

Other than tons of extra love after a missed performance, he will without a doubt dress fancy and bring you a bouquet and some little gifts.

100/10 will pepper you with compliments

Honestly he's an angel

391 notes · View notes

darktypeimagines · 4 years

Note

May I request scenarios of Raihan, Kabu, Nessa, and Leon's reactions(seperate) of their S/O harboring a Pokemon that isn't allowed within Galar borders.

Four characters is a bit much for full, separate scenarios. I’m added a character limit to the rules. But, I chose two of the characters I thought I could do best. Hope you like it anyway. Feel free to send in the other characters if you really want to see them, and I’ll get to it when I have time.

——————————————————————————————–

Kabu

Understands well how you feel. His Torkoal, which he bought from Hoenn, took half a year to get it approved to come! And that was on the short end of the typical wait time.

And Kabu waited until Torkoal was approved before coming over. He wasn’t going to let border restrictions separate him from the Pokemon he loved, after all

He understood why the rules were in place. Other regions, like Alola, had pretty serious issues with foreign Pokemon destroying the ecosystem. Galar had a pristine countryside, and efforts should be made to keep it like that. But there had to be a better way, right?

You two were taking a long flying taxi ride over Galar. You had plenty of time on your hands, so you ended up talking about all manner of things.

When he started telling you stories about coming over from Hoenn, including trying to get Torkoal cleared for legal crossing, and you took the opportunity to confess your crime to him.

It was a bit of an emotional moment, as the secret was eating you up for a while. He comforts you, pulling you in to lean against his shoulder as you spoke. Rubs your back with one hand to calm you down.

It was clear that something needed to be done. Either you were going to get caught, or this would continue to worry you.

So, you both look into legal ways to bring foreign Pokemon into the country. Kabu managed it a while ago, but since it’s been so long, he wanted to make sure the regulations hadn’t changed.

And, oh boy, they changed. A lot. Stricter than when he bought Torkoal. But, not impossible to work with. It would just take time. And a ton of paperwork. And money.

It was not uncommon for both of you to get incredibly frustrated dealing with all the obstacles, hoops to jump through, and delays in trying to get this settled. Fortunately, Kabu was made for endurance, whether it be physical or mental. When you felt you were at your limit, he was always able to encourage you to not give up. A few times, he always kept going just for you, handling things when you could not. He knew he would have needed support had things been this hard when he immigrated, so he wants to be there for you.

But, in time, with his help, you had your Pokemon with you legally in the country, and with that, your burden was lifted.

Raihan

Honestly… he thinks that is freaking sick. You snuck a Pokemon over the border because you couldn’t bear to be separated? You know how big the fines are, right? In some extreme cases, you could even be jailed!

Yes, and that terrifies you.

Even better. The fact that you risked so much for someone you love is amazing, and he’s gained a lot of respect for you.

Buuuuut… Now you both had a problem. You broke the law. And now that he knows, and isn’t going to do anything (of course) he could get in trouble if he helps you.

Luckily, he doesn’t care for those laws; a lot of the Pokemon that are banned don’t even make much sense as to why they aren’t allowed! And, it feels like they’re just making it harder and harder for people to bring in their Pokemon (basically their family) into the country for reasons that are more political than reasonable.

So, he offers to help in any way he can. You risked so much for your Pokemon that you loved. It inspired him, and since he cared so much for you, it only made sense to him to take a risk for you, too.

You know what’s cool about Hammerlocke stadium? It’s connected to the castle, which is a maze of hidden passages, rooms with history, and ancient secrets. Traditionally, the castle was under control of the royal family. But since the royal family isn’t exactly around anymore, in modern times, the leader of the Hammerlocke gym took care of the castle.

So, that means Raihan has plenty of hiding places at his disposal. All of which were in pristine condition and fit for a king (literally).

That’s how your Pokemon came to live in the throne room of Hammerlocke castle. No one else has access to it; individuals, whether they be researchers or anyone else, would have to ask Raihan for permission to enter. Which he still gave out while your Pokemon were there, but it gave you two time to clean things up and take the Pokemon out before they came.

The throne room looked more like a Pokemon play room. Toys were strewn about everywhere, several bowls of different foods were also available, and anything else the Pokemon could ever want was there, too.

You and Raihan’s biggest concern was the Pokemon’s happiness. You couldn’t exactly take them out and about. So, you wanted to make their environment was as stimulating as possible. But, even with all of the luxuries, both of you knew it wasn’t ideal.

With the Pokemon’s welfare in mind, Raihan made use of his influence to raise awareness about the issues of the bans. Within months, it became a hot button issue and was frequently raised on news programs and talk shows.

Eventually, officials announced they would be introducing a program that citizens of Galar could enroll in to bring over “banned” Pokemon. It would take an extensive background check (ugh), frequent checkups and monitoring (bleh), breeding restrictions (ick) and more. But at least it was a step in the right direction.

And with that, you were eventually able to enroll in the program and get your Pokemon in legally.

#raihan #kabu #raihan x reader #kabu x reader #Pokemon #pokemon imagines #pokemon swsh #pokemon sword and shield #x reader #ask #scenario #darktypeimagines

424 notes · View notes

argumentl · 3 years

Text

The Freedom of Expression Ep 26 - German virus transmission experiment.

K: This is Dir en grey's Kaoru, with this episode of The Freedom of Expression. Joe san, Tasai san, welcome.

T: Kaoru san?

K: Hm?

T: I thought we could invite a guest today.

K: Ahhh?

T: So, should we call him?

J: Who is it?

T: Who do you think it is? Someone with a connection to this show.

K: One of those two..

J: Yeh, one of them.

T: Here you are..*hands phone over*

Caller: Hello

J: Hello.Who is it?

Caller: Its Dobashi.

K: Is it Bishbash san?

J: Bishbash Dobashi san.

Caller/Dobashi: The people watching this on Youtube will be a bit afraid, thinking 'Who is this guy??'

J: No, the core fans will know you.

D: Will they? Am I ok?

J: We've heard from Tasai san that you've moved up in the world at Tokyo Sports?

D: No way, Im just in the middle management.

K: No, no, no, only someone important could say that.

J: He's superior, thats right. Its always that pattern, right?

D: I can't really come to see you anymore, Im sorry about that.

J: Where are you going out for entertainment?

K, D: Haha

J: You're pretending to be busy, according to Tasai san, you are making full use of company funds to have fun.

D: What are you talking about?? During the corona crisis I've been stuck at home all the time.

K: Even though the Olympics won't happen, you've been using the Olympics as an excuse to run around all over Japan.

J: Yeh yeh yeh yeh.

D: Well, because its been postponed, right?

J: You don't need to hurry if its been postponed though, do you? As the Olympics reporter?

K: He's pretty stuck now.

D: Since the Olympics have been postponed, I've kinda been distanced from that role though.

J: Oh really?

T: Oh, I see.

J: Eh? Whats your job now? What are you covering now?

D: What am I covering?

J: You don't know? haha.

K: Well, no, he's become more senior...

J: Oh, yeah.

K: So maybe he won't be sent out places and stuff.

D: If I'm forced to say it, I'm probably the spiritual reporter.

K: Ehh?

T: Oh, yeah.

D: From psychics to fortunes, haha.

T: The whole of Tokyo Sports' spiritual corner is done by one person.

K: Like..give us some stories! haha.

D: I'll bring the fortune teller and psychic who Tokyo Sports recommends to see you some time.

J: Really?

D: We'll get Kaoru's fortune read.

J: Oh, lets do it!

K: Sounds good, haha.

D: And Joe san's.

J: Oh yes, yes please!

T: I bet Joe is probably possessed by lots of girl's spirits.

J: No, I wanna know my fortune, about whether or not I'll be able to get re-married by age 55.

T: Ahh.

D: Really?

Kami: Thats impossible.

J: Impossible? Kami!

K: He appeared all of a sudden.

D: Ohh, yeah. I see.

J: Couldn't you hear Kami's voice? No?

D: Ah, Kami?

Kami: Kami heeere!

K: Kami's voice..

T: He's here.

Kami: Its Kami heere!

T: He's saying, 'Kami's heere'

Kami: Kami heeere.

K: I don't think he can hear.

J: Yeah, he can't hear. One system can't hear the other.

D: I can't hear.

T: Kami was saying in a very affable voice, 'Kami heere!'

D: Hahaha. Well, hi.

K: Hahaha

Kami: Hello.

K: Its been a while since back then, right?

J: Yep.

T: *To Dobashi* Thank you very much.

D: Yes, thank you so much!

T, J: Sorry to disturb you. *End phone call*

J: Ahh, its been a while since we spoke to Bishbash Dobashi san.

K: He seemed a bit troubled, right?

J: He did. It might be because it was difficult to communicate. But if he brings that fortune teller sometime on this show, that will be fun.

T: Will that be ok?

J: Yeah, I really wanna see it! How about you, Kaoru? Do you?

K: Yes

J: Lets do it together.

T: It is incredible. That guy seems to get it right. Its kinda scary. Dobashi saw him once, and he said he purified him.

J:Eh??

K: Oh really?

J: Was Dobashi possessed by something?

T: Well, at that time, he was going through a lot of trouble in his life, but after that..

J: Everything got better? He improved?

T: Yes, eventually.

J: Oh, lets get this guy to do us.

T: Hiranabe was also seen by him.

J: Ehh?

T: After that Hiranabe got promoted to Director.

J: Director, right?

K: Let's have today's news please Joe.

J: Yes, I'll get it started. Well, for us who are looking forward to live shows, this is some big news towards possibly re-starting them. 'Looking for 4200 test volunteers' - An experiment in virus transmission in Germany.

A group of German scientists are currently planning the project 'Re-Start 19' to find out how Covid-19 spreads in stadium environments. They aim to gather quantitative data to find out how best to restart concerts, as the current outlook for the music word doesn't look favourable. As for the project, they plan to carry it out in Leipzig Stadium, and are looking for 4200 volunteers between the ages of 18 and 50. After getting all 4200 volunteers into the statdium, a singer will perform, and they will test things like how far saliva sprays out etc. All participants must test negative for the virus two days before the experiment, and once in the venue, they must wear masks and use hand alcohol. The alcohol will contain a fluorescent substance to make it possible to see the areas where people often touch, and a smoke machine will be used to specify the spread of the virus through the air. So, this will take place on the 22nd of August, and the researchers will announce the results before October. While some reduced scale contcerts are beginning to restart, there are high hopes that this study will produce effective data.There arent any big experiments happening like this in Japan, are they?

K: Well, yeh, because you have to use actual people in the experiment

J: Yeh

K: They'd want them to catch the disease, right?

J: Well, they are trying to see where people touch, or how far saliva sprays and stuff, so they are trying to create a simulation, using these nearly 5000 people.

T: It does come with a risk.

J: If there is an infected person there, it is possible that an outbreak might occur, but if you just make armchair guesses like, 'Oh maybe its this, maybe its that', and put on live shows with incomplete counter-measures....But if you do it properly like this, and find out how exactly an outbreak spreads in this kind if group situation, you can use that data and take appropriate counter-measures. Not emotional counter-measures, but doing it properly and thoroughly. You could say its a very German approach. What do you think, Kaoru?

K: Hmm, yeah. Well, they are looking for people to take part, right?

J: Yeah, I wonder how that will go. It says they are currently appealing for people.

T: Volunteers, right?

J: Yeah.

K: And they must test negative two days before the experiment, but that means on the day of the experiment, there could be people who've caught it within two days.

J: Yeah, there could be. It is certainly not a zero risk situation.

K: They are recruiting people with the warning that there is a risk of becoming infected, right?

J: Well, probably, yeah.

K: If 4200 people gather in one place?

J: Yeh. They are tested two days previously, but on the day, there must be...Well, they will probable test peoples' temperatures as they arrive. But there is the possibility it gets missed. I mean, to the German people, it might be less of a case of whether thats good or bad, and more of a conclusion that its more dangerous to go ahead without gathering the proper data first. If they tried to do this experiment in Japan, it would get quite a lot of criticism, I think.

K, T: Definitely.

J: I don't know quite why that is. Maybe in Germany they have a different relationship with music, or maybe if they say, 'Lets get going!', they have to make sure they do this kind of thing first. Well, I don't know whether they'll actually be able to gather 4200 people, but they'll probably get close. They'll be forgiven for the experiment.

K: Who is funding this? The state?

J: Well, its a group of scientists, I don't know as far as whether the state will fund it, but it seems like the main focus is on these scientists. So if there was no scientific rationale for this type if live performance to go ahead..

K: Nothing will happen, right?

J: Right. Rather than having some emotionally charged reason, like 'Now is the right time!' or , 'This is the best way!' or something, if you could set a kinda of standard using the results if this experiment, you could have some kind of criteria. Its gives a sense of security to both the performers, and the audience.

T: Tim Bendzko san

J: Bendzko san..what type of artist it he?

T: Well he's a pop singer. The conditions of the participants are, like you said Joe, testing the effects of socially distanced seating, or not.*1

Y: Yeh, yeh.

Kami: Umm...

J: Yes?

Kami: Even if they release the results to show how covid spreads or doesn't spread, in the end, if people are scared of covid they won't gather at these kind of places, but people who think covid is no big deal will gather, right?

J: Well, at first, yeah. Some people on the viewing side may be worried or scared, and end up not going.

Kami: For people who are worried about getting infected, even if there is just a small risk, they probably won't go, will they? They might go if you tell them, 'We know the transmission routes, and we have proof that you definitely won't be infected', but if you say, 'We mostly understand it, and you probably won't be infected', some people probably won't go, they will be afraid if getting sick. So even if you put a lot of effort in, and announce the results, will it be enough?

K: Well, I reckon this kind of thing will steadily keep improving.

J: Rather than happening all at once...

K: Yeah, not like that, they'll just have to keep trying to weaken peoples' fears bit by bit. But rather than doing nothing, I think this experiment will help towards moving forward a little.

J: Well, whatever you deal with, its never all or nothing. Within this process, if some people or scenes can be saved, it'll be one more thing to be relieved about. I think this problem relating to covid and live shows won't be quickly solved, even if we get a vaccine. But doing this one thing, Im repeating what you said Kaoru, but it will be important as a pointer in the direction of relief.

K: Yeah, but not only for live shows, I also want them to do it for daily life, like in the train and stuff. If we don't, then we won't be able to do anything.

T: If its made more visible, people would feel calmer about it. Like, if you know where the danger is, you won't go there, right? Avoid the pit holes.

J: Yes, thats right. Seeing those facts... well, isn't this experiment predicated to cost 100 million yen, right? I don't know if that will be funded by the government, or whether the researchers themselves will gather the money, but the very fact that there are scientists working to restart live shows, must be a source of hope for German artists. Well, so for the time being in Germany, they are appealing for healthy volunteers age 18 to 50 to take part in this experiment on transmission at live shows.

K: It will happen quite soon, right? On the 22nd? Just a little bit after this is broadcast? A few weeks after?

J: Yeah. And then the results will be announced in October, so around that time, we could talk about the results here.

T: Its data that a lot of people in the Japanese music business will want to know.

J: I think so.

K: Ok, well, let's end here. Please subscribe. Thank you very much.

*1 Couldn't clearly hear what Tasai said, but this is what the experiment conditions were.

#the freedom of expression #tfoe #dir en grey #kaoru #薫

13 notes · View notes

pabosontheloose · 4 years

Text

Words (Sehun)

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

Today was another day that seemed to keep dragging on no matter how much I tried to keep myself occupied. It was lonely in this apartment when he wasn’t here. It would’ve been deafeningly silent had I not put on some music to fill the space.

It was on these days when I wished that he was here so we can do nothing together instead of just me being on our couch, aimlessly surfing through the TV channels and wondering if he’s eaten yet. I worked in the mornings, from 5am to 1pm at a 24hr coffee shop. It had an above average pay which I was glad with. But then the afternoon comes and I find myself needing something to occupy the rest of the day with.

With this recent album coming up, I knew he wouldn’t be able to be home a lot, and I didn’t mind at all. I understood what his job required of him and I tried my best to support him through it; it was his actions that had me wondering if he really noticed my efforts or not.

I had cooked dinner for two, and ended up eating by myself, occasionally looking over to my phone when it lights up in hopes that it was a message from him. But it wasn’t. It never is anymore these days. The rest of the food was wrapped up and placed in the microwave so he has easy access when he came back.

I was dozing off at around 1 in the morning when the door opened. There was the sound of it closing after he had stepped in. His coat rustled as he placed it on the hook behind the door. As he walked further into the house, I heard his footsteps stop before a sigh left his mouth.

“Why are you still on the couch? There is a bedroom for a reason.” he shook my leg to snap me out of my drowsiness. I didn’t get to answer before he was making his way to the kitchen. A tiny beep came from the microwave before I heard him find the eating utensils. Slowly, I sat up and let out a yawn. My hands reached to move the small blanket from my body before standing up and stretching away the sleepiness. As soon as I reached the kitchen entrance, the microwave let out five beeps and Sehun went over to take out his dinner before sitting down at the table. I sat on the seat next to him and rested my head on the hand that was propped up by my elbow. I silently watched him cut into his food and bring it to his mouth.

“This is over seasoned.” was all he said, slowly chewing as if it was hard for him to swallow.

“Really? I thought it was fine when I tried it.” my eyes looked down at the plate in front of him. His eyes met mine for the first time since he set foot into the house.

“Well, clearly, you were wrong. This is overwhelming my nose. Would you mind if I made ramen instead?” he slightly pushed the plate further away from him. I could feel his words pinch at my heart. I stared at the plate as he got up to go turn on the stove and dig through the drawers to find the packets of ramen.

“But I made this especially for you...you’re just going to leave it here?” I asked his moving figure that was going back and forth in the kitchen.

“Well, I figured you’d finish it since you thought it was fine.” he shrugged, his voice low and held a hint of irritation. “Listen, I had a long day alright? Can we please not get into something that doesn’t have to happen in the first place?”

“Okay…” I mumbled before getting up and silently making my way towards our bedroom.

This was just one in a long line of things that I should’ve talked to him about. But there was always something that came up or it was just waved off. Next time I guess..

It was two days after that night. I had let it go for the most part when his half-assed apology came the next day but it was still picking at me. I didn’t want to make him feel guilty, but I can’t just let go of something that has been building up inside of me for so long. Keeping that aside, he told me he was going to be at a practice stage for the next three days and won’t be able to come home, so I decided to give him a visit at the dorm. I hadn’t seen the guys in a while too, so why not bring everyone something.

A couple of banana milk boxes were tossed into my bag along with chocolate bars and then I was off towards their building.

“Ahhh!! (Y/n)!!” Baekhyun’s cheery voice rang out through the security com before the doors were unlocked. I let myself in and looked around. I hadn’t gotten a few steps in before thudding footsteps were heard coming towards me. Baekhyun threw his arms around me in a tight hug before letting go and we walked further into the place.

“Hey, I didn’t think many of you would be here since promotions are happening.” I grinned seeing the boys spread out all over the living room. Minseok lifted his hand indicating a welcoming high five which I gladly gave.

“Yeah, we have about an hour before we gotta go. You looking for Sehun?” Junmyeon nodded, emerging from their kitchen.

“He’s just in the bathroom. What’s in the bag?” Baekhyun gave a cheeky grin, waving off my questioning glance towards the bathroom, as he plopped himself down onto the arm rest besides me.

“Oh, I thought you guys would like some refreshments.” I stated before opening the said bag. Head turned at the mention of food and I gave each of them their drinks and snacks. A round of thanks erupted before they dug in.

“What are you doing here?” my boyfriend’s voice suddenly asked as he entered the living room. I smiled before standing up to approach him.

“Hi! I just thought I’d pay you and everyone a visit since you won’t be home for the next three days.” His eyebrows furrowed before his hand came up to scratch at the end of his eyebrow.

“You should have called. Coming here was a hassle since we have to leave in a little bit.” he quickly remarked. My cheeks tinted pink at the tone of his voice.

“Well, it’s just you never answer my calls so I thought-”

“Well maybe there’s a reason I never answer your calls!” he snapped, making me back up a little bit in shock. My eyes widened slightly as I watched him start to fume.

“What? What do you mean?” I quietly let out. Not wanting the members to hear me or even be witnessing this right now.

“Don’t you ever think that maybe sometimes you can be a bit overbearing?” he questioned. I blinked at him and felt my cheeks turn red in embarrassment.

“Sehun.” a word of warning came from Junmyeon. No one else said a word. Although I wanted to speak, my throat ran dry. I just stood, staring at him, waiting for him to apologize or take back what he said; but his eyebrows stay furrowed and lips stayed a frown. When I didn’t say anything, he ignored his members' looks and continued, “I mean you are constantly around me, all the time. It’s always “have you eaten?” or “have you rested enough?”, come ON. I’m not a child, there is no need for you to be bugging me 24/7.”

“Oh Sehun!” this time, everyone was up. Those who rarely got angry were now suddenly raising their voice. Having been with Sehun for several years, I also knew a lot about the members. Sure, when Junmyeon raises his voice, everyone is cautious. But when it’s Minseok who raised his voice, everyone instantly shut up. I even noticed Sehun take a slight step back in surprise. I knew this was about to derail, and instantly held out my hands in hopes of getting everyone to settle down.

No one spoke a word. I stared up at Sehun before sighing.

“Fine. Enjoy your meal. See you guys.” I mumbled and turned around quickly. My vision blurred and my lids blinked to keep back the inevitable tears that will eventually come running down. I made my way towards the door, not wanting to stop for any of them who were calling out to me. My hands carefully closed the door before I made it all the way down towards the lobby and my car.

I wanted to fight back, and tell him off for his behavior, but I lost my energy. It was as if his words deflated everything that I wanted to discuss with him about and he left me there. I sat in my car for a little, just letting every tear go.

Buzz buzz...buzz buzz...buzz buz-

“Yeah, Baekhyun?”

“Tell me you aren’t driving.”

“No, I’m still here. I just need to calm down first before I leave.” I sniffled, wiping my tears as if someone were watching me. A sigh of relief was heard through the line before he started talking again.

“Good, I’m coming down.” and before I could even object, the line cut off. I sat there, waiting for his figure to show up and let him into the passenger seat. When he got in, we were silent for a good minute.

“Listen, that brat doesn’t mean it, you know that right?” he asked. I looked at him.

“I know, but it still hurts.”

“Yeah, I know it does. And trust me, he’s getting an earful up there right now. Damn, I can’t even imagine what Kyungsoo and the others will do when they find out after the stage.” he chuckled, his words contradicted his facial expression because I knew that that was exactly what he was doing.

“How are they going to find out?”

“Oh, because I’m gonna tell them.” he grinned as-a-matter-of-factly, his cheerful tone slightly enlightening my mood.

“Thanks Baek.”

“No problem, and hey, you should come by tonight for the show. If you’re too angry to go because of him, go for us.” he patted my shoulder. I looked down at my hands and nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll see you all tonight.” he grinned. His hand came up to ruffle my hair before he said his goodbye and went back upstairs.

Several hours later, I found myself standing in front of their stadium. The lights were dim and Aeris were waving their lightsticks around in anticipation for their boys. I flipped the on switch of mine and held it up as well. Within seconds the lights of the stage came on and the performance proceeded.

The fanchant shook the roof, and the boys were amazing as they always were. As they were performing, I caught eyes with Sehun. I noticed them widening a little in surprise but he continued performing. And every once in a while, I’d meet them again.

I sighed to myself, hating the fact that I can’t even stay mad at him even after what he said. Here I was, proudly and happily watching him dancing on that stage. God I love him a lot, huh.

When the performance came to an end, their fans screamed louder than they already were. The boys took a bow, taking the time to thank the audience and saying goodbye before starting to move backstage. I decided not to go backstage since they might be rushed somewhere by the staff, so I started to make my way out of the venue and back home for the night.

-------

When I woke up the next morning, something felt off. The sun barely shone as I prepared to get ready for work. I made a move to get out of bed but found arms wrapped around my waist, keeping me in place. He released a groan in protest when I tried to move again.

How long has it been since we’ve slept like this? His hold got tighter as I wrapped an arm around his own.

“Sehun, I need to go take out the trash before the truck drives by. And I have work in 30 minutes.” I shook his arm but he still refused to let go. Instead, he gently moved to turn me around to face him before pulling me closer once again.

“You don’t have to. I took it out last night before I went to bed. And I also used your phone to ask your coworker if she can cover your shift today since you’re seriously sick.” through the dim light in the room I could see the sleepy smirk on his face. My eyebrow raised as I watched him. I could see the playful glint in his drowsy eyes.

“Seriously sick? But I feel fi-” his finger came to touch my lips, making me pause my words. “Yeah you are. That’s why we’re staying home together today. So that I can be with you, aaaallllll day long. And since you don’t have work tomorrow, we’ll get to be together even longer.”

“Sehun, what’s going on?” I asked him as he threw his right leg over my body, effectively keeping me in his hold. His warm, secure, embrace made me yawn.

“Nothing’s going on, babe. I’m just trying to make up to my beautiful, deserving girlfriend for my behavior the past few weeks. To let her know how sorry I am for making her feel so horrible.” he planted a kiss onto my forehead, trailing down to place another one on the tip of my nose and ending up at my lips.

“Hun, you don’t have to do that. Your schedule is so packed already, what are the members gonna say?” I whispered, before placing my head on his chest, my arms slowly coming up to wrap around his waist. He laughed before reaching back to open his phone and show me the messages he received from the boys. Most were threats which I knew were empty because they would never do that to their precious maknae. I giggled while reading Chanyeol’s messages about; ‘What it takes to keep a woman, dummy.’. What made my full out laugh was Kyungsoo’s short and simple message; ‘Do you want to die?’

“Yes I do. The members gave me an ass whooping after the show yesterday before I could even tell them I planned to be with you for the next two days. Thank you for coming to watch us last night…I was hoping you’d come backstage but I understand why you didn’t.” he gave my lips a kiss once more.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get longer than two days. I asked for a week but my manager said no and left me many...many..voicemails.” I giggled at him before shaking my head.

“Two days is great, Sehun.”

“Good. Now, let’s make the most of it by sleeping till noon.” he gave me another kiss before we were both dozing off once again.

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

I have no words :)

MASTERLIST

123 notes · View notes

exxar1 · 3 years

Text

Episode 5: Why Machiavelli Would Never Wear a Mask (And Why You Shouldn’t Either)

12/9/2020

Last week’s episode of the Young Heretics podcast was about The Prince by Niccolo Machiavelli. The Prince is one of those classics of western lit that I’ve never actually read – or even taken a college class where this was one of the texts. What little I remember about this text is from history class during my junior year in high school. Mrs. Jones (no relation) told us that Machiavelli wrote The Prince as a treatise on political philosophy. He believed that the ends justified the means, and that the best way for a prince to retain power over the people was to rule by fear rather than love. The word “Machavellian” has always been used as a pejorative description in our modern society, often referring to those people who are cold, heartless, and unfeeling. Machiavelli’s name has become synonymous with those characters in popular movies, books and TV shows that attempt to control other characters and events by using various means of deceit and guile.

Now, to be fair, Mrs. Jones’ interpretation and summary of The Prince is not entirely wrong. I did a brief Google search on Machiavelli and The Prince, and about half the links of my search results reaffirmed that view. The other half, however, offered a surprisingly different take on The Prince, one that is also shared by Spencer Klavan on Young Heretics. That podcast is now 29 episodes old, but this is the first one that has presented me with something entirely new – both the text itself and the interpretation of it.

In his advice to the titular prince, Lorenzo de Medici, Machiavelli instructs him on how to best maintain power and control of his subjects and his state. The best way to do this, Machiavelli believed, was for the prince to be feared rather than loved. Also, at times, it would be necessary to use what many would consider to be unjust or immoral means in order to sustain that power and control. Hence Machiavelli’s negative reputation in the history books and modern culture.

But Spencer makes the argument that Machiavelli’s reputation is ill-earned. There’s more to this Italian philosopher than what has been passed down in the history books. To put it simply, Machiavelli was a realist. He addressed human nature – and human behavior – in harsh, realistic terms. This was how Machiavelli viewed the world. To use our vernacular, he didn’t sugarcoat the bad stuff. He understood how people behaved – both the ones in power and the ones being ruled – and he framed his advice to his prince in these simple, realistic terms.

I’ve spent the last several days thinking about this episode, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Spencer chose this episode to air when it did. All over the country, many state governors have issued lockdown orders for their principalities in response to a renewed surge in positive cases of COVID-19. As any of you who know me – either in real life or via social media – can attest, I am a rabid believer in the battle against face masks and the lockdowns. I’m also a firm believer in the actual science – as opposed to the political nonsense spouted by Doctor Fauci and his panel of “experts” – that says over and over how useless and pointless the masks are in the efforts to stop the spread of the corona virus. And, as you also know, I have plenty of time on my hands to think while at my day job, and the other day I came to a rather startling conclusion:

We should all be more like Machiavelli.

When exactly did we, the American people, become a nation of whiny, spoiled, self-entitled sissies? A nation of people who are so terrified of the possibility of dying that we happily give up our most basic freedoms and cower inside our homes or behind masks? Because that's exactly what's happened. The basic liberties and routines of our daily lives and, for many, their very livelihoods, were suddenly halted and/or shut down by our state governors who were acting in response to so-called science and medical “experts” in the effort to save a small, vulnerable percentage of our population. I've lost count of the number of times I've read on social media posts in the last 6 months about how pro-maskers wear a mask to protect their 85 year old grandmother or their 70 year old father. I've been called “heartless” and “pro-Nazi” from strangers in the comments section of news articles whenever I respond with the same argument that I'm going to put forth here.

We of the last couple generations have become so soft and spoiled and lazy that we've forgotten just how harsh and deadly real life can often be. And I'm including myself in that crowd. Those of us born in the last four decades of the 20th century have known nothing but prosperity and comfort, especially if – like me – you grew up in a typically middle class household. This is even more true of anyone born after 1995. I'm speaking of the generation that has never known life without Starbucks, Amazon, Google or a cell phone; the generation that grew up using laptop computers and watching TV by streaming it on the internet. In fact, we've become so complacent that we don't even have to leave our comfort zones to order a Big Mac from McDonald's or groceries from Walmart. When I was growing up in the 80s, I remember having to wait an eternity (4-6 weeks) for a toy to arrive that I had mail-ordered from a Sears catalog. Nowadays, I complain if my Amazon package isn't on my doorstep within 24 hours.

For pretty much all of us, 2020 was a massive wake-up call; a Mike-Tyson-punch-to-the-face or dive-into-Lake-Michigan-in-the-middle-of-December kind of wake-up call. None of us were prepared for a pandemic whose projected death toll was in the millions. Everyone from the top down – the president, our congressmen, our state governors, the national and local health experts – reacted instinctively. The medical experts, especially, were very quick to panic, based primarily on preliminary reports from European countries and China. Many state governors – most of them Democrats – were quick to declare a state of emergency and issue a lockdown order for their respective principalities. Hundreds of thousands of Americans were suddenly without work. Unemployment claims shot through the stratosphere. Congress approved an economic stimulus package. Everyone in the government – both national and local – assured us citizens that the lockdowns were temporary, two months at most.

But, of course, two months became three, then four, and by mid-July, many states were still in phase one or two of their “re-opening”. By this point, even the liberal-controlled mainstream media was reporting on the sudden spike of suicides in the lockdown states. Millions of unemployment claims were stuck in severe backlog, and more and more workers were being put on furlough by their employers – or just simply laid off. Here in Las Vegas, for example, the entire strip was a complete ghost town from mid-March to mid-June. This city's economy is utterly dependent on the tourism industry, and, with all casinos and hotels completely closed, the city as a whole suffered greatly. It's still suffering, in fact, even though most of the strip has been open since mid-July. Almost all the hotels and casinos can only afford to be open from Thursday to Sunday. Thousands here are still unemployed or working two part time jobs for barely minimum wage just to make basic ends meet.

And now, as I write this, our governor – along with those of California, New York, and many others – has declared a second round of lockdowns. In California, both Governor Newsom and the mayor of L.A. have banned indoor AND outdoor dining at all restaurants. And again, we the citizens have been told that this is for our own safety, and that these lockdowns will be temporary. One doesn’t have to look far on Twitter or Facebook to see cell phone videos of desperate, tearful, and/or furious restaurant and bar owners engaged in verbal rages about the injustice of all of this.

Here’s what should have happened clear back in February of this year:

Our leaders – our princes, if you will – both national and local, should have consulted not only the medical experts but also a team of economic and social advisors. The governors of every state should have taken a long, hard look at the long term cost of even a brief economic shutdown versus the projected death toll in the short term if COVID-19 was allowed to run its natural course through the U.S. population. You can already see where I’m headed with this. Our governors chose to shut down their states, to close all “non-essential” businesses, and ordered all citizens to self-quarantine. This was only supposed to be for a few weeks, at most. But we’ve all witnessed the long term effects of these shutdowns – skyrocketing unemployment rates, a rapid, severe spike in suicides and domestic abuse cases, and children who are falling so far behind in school due to “distance learning” that many will simply end up dropping out or repeating the same grade for another year.

Our princes should have been more like Machiavelli. They should have allowed life to continue as normal – no mask mandates, no social distancing orders, and most definitely no mandatory quarantines. Instead, the princes should have advised all citizens that the choice was theirs to self-quarantine or not, and that face masks would also be encouraged but completely optional. The result of this, of course, would mean a very high death toll in the short term. There would be no way to avoid this. As we already know now, face masks and social distancing are pointless and useless when it comes to preventing the spread of COVID. The highest numbers of fatalities would be among those older than 65. Hospitals and morgues would be overwhelmed. Emergency triage centers would have to be established in parking lots and empty football stadiums. For a month or two, the news headlines would be filled each day with the most recent death tolls.

But then, into the third month, the death count would start to go down. As herd immunity was finally achieved, life would, slowly but surely, get back to normal. And through it all, there would have been a slight drop in the regular business of many restaurants, movie theaters, and other recreational businesses that rely on tourism and seasonal traffic. But, ultimately, the country would have recovered from this much faster than they will in our present timeline. As it stands now, hundreds of thousands of small businesses across America have gone bankrupt and closed their doors for good. Even major restaurant chains like Ruby Tuesday and Sweet Tomatoe’s have permanently closed many – if not all – their locations. In the alternate timeline, where they had been allowed to remain open with no restrictions of any kind on the number of customers they were allowed to have inside at any time, these businesses would most likely still be up and running.

Yes, that means that your 75 year old father or your 90 year old grandma would have probably died. But that’s life. Like Machiavelli, I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. Life is hard. If you haven’t figured that out by now, you’re in for a long and frustrating existence on this earth. And lest you think I’m speaking from some superior, unaffected, condescending platform where I have not experienced any loss or hardship this year, let me remind of you of my blog post about my close friend Aaron Walker from a month ago. No, his death was not the result of COVID, as far as I know, but it was sudden, and it was completely unexpected. I’m still feeling his loss. But you know what? Life goes on. We mourn the dead, we bury them, and then we move on. Death is a fact of life. Machiavelli would have understood that, and so should all of us in 2020. This year has seen a lot of death, more than anything in recent decades, in fact. But that’s life. That’s the way life goes sometimes, and trying to avoid that inevitability by forcing face masks and quarantine and shutting down businesses on a whim is not going to change that simple fact.

I know many of you reading this are probably screaming at your phone screen right now, calling me all kinds of names and cursing me. “How can you be so heartless????” you rave. “How can you allow so many elderly and innocents to die just so you can still go to the movies or sit down at McDonald’s to enjoy your iced coffee and Big Mac????” “You’re a murderer because you still refuse to wear a mask in public!!!!”

And you know what? You’re absolutely right. I am probably infecting others by not wearing a mask. I do still want to go to a movie on Friday night and pig out on overpriced popcorn and soda. I do enjoy going out to eat at least once a week with all my friends. And yep, I’m perfectly fine with accepting the reality that many people are going to die because our governors refused to sacrifice the whole society in the chance that it might save a few innocent lives.

In other words, “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one.” That edict is as true today as when Spock said it to Captain Kirk in Star Trek 2 in 1982. Machiavelli would have completely understood that statement, and he also would have understood this: that which doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. We humans have been spreading disease to one another ever since Adam and Eve were cast out of the Garden of Eden. Death, you see, is the natural consequence of sin. Death is unavoidable, and death comes for us all. For some of us, we are lucky enough to live rich, full lives. For others, death comes all too soon. My grandfather will be 90 years old this year on December 31st. If I were to ask him today if he were ready to shuffle off this mortal coil and be welcomed into the arms of our Heavenly Father, his answer would be an immediate and resounding, “Yes!”. Your 75 year old father or your 85 year old grandmother are most likely looking forward to death. That doesn’t mean you should just kill them now by your own hand to hasten the inevitable. But it does mean that they are ready to meet their maker if their number is up. (And, by the way, is not more cruel to force the elderly to slowly waste away alone, locked up in forced quarantine in nursing homes, not allowed to see or even speak to their loved ones until they eventually die of depression, loneliness or COVID???)

COVID-19 is an act of God. It’s a chance of nature, a random thing that has struck the human race, and none of us have the power to change it or ward it off or protect ourselves and our loved ones against its wrath. As we have been doing since the Tower of Babel, we humans have infected one another and survived many, many plagues worse than this one. So you need to stop your whining, stop your complaining, pick yourself up, and get on with your fucking life. And, while you’re at it, you might want to open your Bible and get acquainted with your Creator. Because, sooner or later, you’re gonna meet him, and if you have not accepted his son, Jesus Christ, as your lord and savior, you will spend eternity in a place that makes COVID look like a summer’s vacation in the Florida Keys.

So, in conclusion, be more like Machiavelli. Throw away your damn mask, rise up against the tyranny of our modern princes, and help me get our lives back to normal. If we do not stand up for our freedoms we will most assuredly lose every last one of them.

Mmmmm-kay???

(And, by the way, if you haven’t been listening to Young Heretics, I strongly advise you to drop everything and begin immediately. Look it up on YouTube or wherever you get your podcasts. It will change your life.

You’re welcome.)

#covid #covidiot #life #god #mask #liberty #freedom

3 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

liliuwus

liliwrld

spn-as-highschool-quotes

#BlackLivesMatter

leahatfallout-blog-blog

50% Sarcasm 50% Multifandom

voditeme

salad

random-rottmnt-stuff

SUPPORT RISE!