#{ i like...i think its just writing in public. even the smallest shit either sets me off or sends me in tears } | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

warriorsredux · 4 years

Text

RE: Feedback for the Redux.

(I wanted to give you really in-depth feedback. Unfortunately, it ended up being way longer than I anticipated. I figured it would be easier to send this as a submission rather than breaking it up into a million smaller asks. I hope that’s all right!)

Note: I put this under a readmore to save space, but I have read it all and thoroughly agree with it. Thank you so much for the feedback, man!

Before I get into the nitty-gritty, I want to briefly talk about my personal relationship with Warriors - not because I want to talk about myself necessarily, but because I want to provide some relevant context. You see, I was first introduced to these books in 2004, about when I was nine years old. You could argue, in some ways, that these books defined a large part of my childhood, and were extremely influential into my teenage years and early adulthood. When I wasn’t fantasizing about colonies of talking feral cats, I was gleefully writing fanfics and roleplaying online. Those were my first tentative forays into writing, and would ultimately set me on the path to refine and hone those skills in the years to come. I was obsessed with the mythology and lore of this world, with the sprawling cast of characters, with the steady publication of new entries into the series.

Now, kids tend to not have the best critical thinking skills. Which is why it took until my late teenage years to realize that my cherished books were really, really not that great. The mythology and lore that I’d praised were starved of any creativity, steeped in the cliches of the fantasy genre, and prone to collapsing under their own weight when subjected to even the smallest amount of scrutiny. The characters that I adored? They were blighted with similar cliches, lacking in any sort of growth or development or depth; sustained only by archetypes and whatever retcons the authors thought would sell the most books, either through hype, drama, or fanservice. Exacerbating all of this was the publisher’s insistence on milking the franchise for whatever profit nostalgia could still yield. They weren’t writing more books because they had new, interesting ideas they wanted to explore - they did it because this series was (and still is) fucking lucrative. As I thought about these things more critically, and became more informed on social issues, it became impossible to unsee the uglier aspects of the franchise - the ableism, the queerbaiting and lack of representation, the depiction of minors and adults (Dustpelt and Ferncloud, Thistleclaw and Spottedleaf) having romantic or sexual relationships, the blind nationalism and eugenics/persecution of minorities (non-Clanborn cats) and characters of mixed descent (half-Clan cats). People far more informed and far more eloquent than myself have discussed those issues in-depth elsewhere, but suffice to say, I was understandably upset by these things. No amount of nostalgia could blind me to those flaws.

And yet, for some reason, I never really stopped loving Warriors. Or put more accurately - I never stopped loving the potential of Warriors. That was the thing that I kept coming back to. The wasted potential of a series depicting the lives of feral cats, and their brutal struggle to survive in the wilderness, all the while deeply immersed in their own complex societies and cultures. It became painfully clear to me that the thing I loved about Warriors was the sandbox nature of the franchise, and all the ways fans were able to explore that untapped potential. With that realization now achieved, Warriors slipped into the back of my mind, accruing cobwebs as the years passed. Occasionally those dormant thoughts stirred whenever I saw a piece of fanart on my dashboard, or I passed a new release while browsing the local Barnes & Noble. Sometimes I even entertained the fleeting thought of writing AU fics again. But by and large, Warriors had been retired from my thoughts.

And then, in 2017, I found the Redux.

While writing this segment I had several false starts, in no small part because I didn’t know what to talk about first. It was like someone had gone through my thoughts with a steel-toothed comb, and took every disappointment, every what if, and turned it into a reality. Holy shit, look at this blog! Look at the meta commentary! Look at all of the worldbuilding! I could clearly see just how much passion and attention to detail was put into developing the plot and the characters. How many hundreds of hours went into correcting the broken genetics of the canon characters. Suddenly, the Clans had culture - real, living, breathing culture! There was a pantheon of deities and demigods. A deliberate intention behind the naming tradition beyond slapping two words together because they sounded pretty or made for a trite pun. This. This was the story Warriors should have been. This lone blog managed to conceive an original lore for the Clans, while further developing the canon plots beyond their base elements. What three authors failed to do, one person achieved on their own.

You made forgettable characters interesting. And you made interesting characters unforgettable.

I lived for every scrap of content you created - the asks, the deconstructions, the amendment posts, the art, even the fucking shitposts (because they were just genuinely wholesome and funny). The Redux wasn’t just a source of entertainment, either - it introduced me to the idea of writing an AU that was sustained by meta-analysis, and grounded in critical reception of the series’ flaws (both technical and social). Your work eventually inspired me to create my own Redux-style worldbuilding/AU blog for a series that has similar issues to canon Warriors.

The Redux deserves all the praise it gets, and you should be extremely proud of what you’ve accomplished. Even if the Third Arc wasn’t finished or the Fourth started, it was still a helluva ride, one that I’m so glad I got to participate in.

But, of course, you asked for feedback, so I can’t spend the entirety of this post throwing roses at your feet. So, onto the constructive feedback.

I think a lot of my thoughts are going to echo what other people have previously said, but for me, the biggest setbacks in the Redux were the following:

[1] Pacing. This is going to sound weird, but this isn’t a criticism of the Redux’s length. Rather, it’s more about how that time was spent. While I really like how you adjusted aspects of the Redux’s plot in order to still tangentially align with the books’, it sometimes felt like the chapters were there just to connect points A and B. I knew this was a retelling of the original series, so I already had a vague idea of what the general storybeats would be. What appealed to me was how the story would get to those points. Let me give you an example: in Arc 1, we’re told in chapter 10 that Murkpelt is roaming the territories, and poses a threat to the Clans. Immediately in chapter 11 we’re taken to the scene where Firepaw finds her while escorting Spottedleaf. We’re told about ThunderClan’s efforts to track her prior, and about the looming tension in the wake of this invisible threat. But that’s the thing - we’re told that by the narration in just a paragraph or two. We’re not shown what that looks like. The setup is supposed to be everyone being on edge, but Bluestar’s lounging by the stump when the scene begins. It’s a little dissonant, and it has the unfortunate problem of contradicting the narration. It would’ve been so cool to see a chapter or two where Firepaw’s still trying to immerse himself into Clan life, and his questions are met with terse answers or impatience. Undercut his (and the reader’s) learning with other characters being brusque with him, or short-tempered, or something. And then that could lead into Greypaw or Ravenpaw consoling him and explaining why the situation is so serious. Then Firepaw could ask something like, “Have there ever been instances like this before with rogues?” Which could organically lead to a conversation where Greypaw or Ravenpaw bring up relevant lore/worldbuilding. It’s little stuff like that which would’ve helped with immersion and pacing. I think it would have balanced the two out, by providing pseudo-downtime where the audience experiences the world as the characters do. (If that makes sense.) Or, to provide another example: we never get to see Tres Idiots mentoring Snowpaw. In chapters 5 and 6 of Arc 3, we see Raventhroat struggling to develop a signing system he can use with his apprentice; and then, after a few chapters he’s perfectly narrating the Bright-Eyed Crow to Snowpaw. I think that showing us scenes where the two were actually working out the kinks would have done more to develop Raventhroat’s character arc. He went from being a meek, timid apprentice to an eloquent warrior, and him becoming a mentor is supposed to be a definite part of that journey. It would’ve have been so cool to have plot-relevant scenes broken up by smaller ones where we watch Raventhroat gain confidence through each small success he makes with his apprentice. I’m not sure if I’m conveying exactly what I want to say, but I guess the TL;DR would be something like - I would’ve gladly welcomed either more chapters, or longer ones, if it meant we got more scenes like this.

[2] Utilization of the worldbuilding. You mentioned this already in response to another ask, but if you could go back and change anything, it would be incorporating more lore/adhering the Redux to its lore more strongly. Your worldbuilding is perhaps the strongest part of the Redux by far. You gave us a conlang, traditions, folk stories, Clan stereotypes - so much fascinating material - but it feels like its integration was based solely on whether or not it was relevant to the plot at hand. Unless there was a reason why it was brought up, then we’d never get to see a ThunderClan cat freaking out near a ShadowClan seer and refusing to approach them at a Gathering. Or listen to Mistfoot share a poem with Greystripe and Fireheart (after being goaded into it by Silverstream). Or watch as Redtail politely interrupts the elders and asks for their opinion on an important matter. Or listen to the Clan getting together after a loved one dies and share stories about their life. Or watch as Sandpaw/Dustpaw use their age and seniority over Firepaw to terrorize him with stories of Yrrun and Terror. On one hand, I absolutely understand why a lot of lore was relegated exclusively to the Amendment section - it’s important to strike a balance between what’s interesting versus what’s relevant. You don’t wanna just throw worldbuilding trivia at the audience apropos of nothing. On the other hand, I really wish I’d seen a much larger integration of your worldbuilding into the story, because it’s so fascinating and so god damn good.

[3] Utilization of the characters. One of the things you tweaked, that I absolutely loved, was choosing to introduce Silverpaw in Arc 1 at a Gathering. Not only does it create a realistic basis for her friendship with Tres Idiots, but it fixes the canon’s issue of her saving Greystripe out of nowhere and then developing a relationship on that alone. That was fucking great! Same thing with Rainpath - it was so awesome for Fireheart to get a friend in another Clan (ShadowClan, of all Clans). It broke the mold, and their interactions were just delightful. But outside of those examples, sometimes it kinda felt like the side characters didn’t really exist? I remember an old piece of writing advice, but I can’t recall who it’s attributed to: “Treat your side characters like they think they’re the main characters.” Because they absolutely are. I might be some passing stranger in another person’s life, barely a blip on their radar, but I have my own vibrant story. Everyone does. In the Redux, it sometimes felt like minor or side characters weren’t living their own lives outside of their interactions with Fireheart and his friends. Mousefur’s the most fluent speaker of Fang in ThunderClan? Cool. How did she learn that skill? Who taught her? Does she have a friend in WindClan who’s been teaching her new words at Gatherings, or whenever they happen to cross paths while on border patrols near Four Trees? Not only is that character trivia interesting, but it could provide foreshadowing/become relevant later on. When the Clans meet to discuss how to deal with the dogs in Arc 3, perhaps someone suggests having their most fluent Fang speakers act as interpreters/diplomats, and try to broker some sort of peace/understanding with the dogs. Things like that. Basically, it would’ve been nice if Fireheart’s life intersected more with the goings-on of his Clanmates, or if his own goals/agenda were sometimes inconvenienced by the goals/agenda of others.

I think those are my major criticisms. More integration of lore, a slower/steadier pace that accommodates showing over telling, and finding ways to have the personal lives of minor characters interact with the story. Maybe adding in some additional subplots that are congruent with the main plots, and occur simultaneously, in order to keep chapters busy. That sort of thing. I hope what I provided wasn’t overwhelming in any way, and ends up being useful for either the Redux or any of your other writing projects.

As an aside, thank you. For creating this humble niche community within an even larger fandom. For asking for feedback from your readers. For being someone who makes mistakes, but eventually endeavors to learn from them, and ultimately, become a better person. I know this sounds kinda sappy, but I really do mean it. <3

(For the record I wrote this at like five in the morning, so if there are any grammatical errors I’ll be kicking myself in the ass for those.)

#silvokrent #submission #i speak #kind of #textwall #readmore

22 notes · View notes

kpop-ruined-my-social-life · 4 years

Text

Hongjoong NS*F Alphabet

Gonna put this under the cut cause I know some of yall wanna get to some other writings or something + these can get super long with all the gaps

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Hongjoong is a sweetheart, but he is also a busy boy, I expect baths on the morning after but def some slight wiping down with a wet rag or something to clean you both up a bit, will make sure you both drink water and he’ll just give you all the kisses ever

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He really likes his smile and his lips, literally just the smallest thought of you makes him smile so wide it’s unreal, when it comes to his lips he just likes to use them on you, like I said before he’ll give you all the kisses in the world. On you he loves your hands, wants them all over him, scratching and pulling at him all the time. Also in a none smut way he just wants you to hold him and hold his hands too

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Pretty clean, most of the time he cums in a condom or in your mouth, he is like okay doing it inside you but it really just isn’t his favorite. Likes releasing on your chest sometimes but only on ‘special’ occasions

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Honestly has a slight pet play and master kink, wants to have you call him master or sir and even though he knows you don’t have a problem with it he still is anxious to ask you about the pet play thing. Nothing extreme but like just a choker with a bell and calling you his kitten or something ya know? (Sometimes if you ever sarcastically say like ‘yes sir’ and roll your eyes or something he is sooooooo into it it legit takes all of his power not to put you over his knee and spank you right there)

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Honestly I don’t see him as having any experience, maybe a little bit but def not more than one partner. Super good at foreplay but when it comes to sex the first few times you’ll have to tell him what feels good and what doesn’t because hes still a bit scared if he is hurting you or not

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He loves positions where you can grab at him, so facing him or you on top, legit just anything where your hands can reach even if its like you’re on your hands and knees as long as you can reach back and touch him hes okay

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Anytime you guys try out something new or just newer there is always a laugh, one time he wanted to try temp play with ice and he was about to go down on you and he dragged it down your tummy and you started laughing saying it was weird and it tickled and he just went all heart eyes and laughed so hard before going down on you like his life depended on it

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Clean, short, almost bald. Doesn’t like it long and wild he just prefers to have it trimmed, doesn’t like it bald cause he just thinks it looks weird. If you ask him to keep it a bit longer or even a bit shorter he’ll do it as long as it is still uniform and clean looking

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

I already said he is one goofy boy, but when I say a true romantic I’m talking roses, baths, music, candles, the works like this boy is like “you’re stressed I can handle that” and he’ll get out massage oil and once you start moaning that’s when he gets going

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Doesn’t do it a lot but he def doesn’t not do it ya know? Like 2-3 times a week but most times just 2 and that is only if he can get alone for enough time

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

I said earlier he wants to try pet play and has a master kink, def has a power and corruption kink. Likes roleplay, spanking, super super light bondage, maybe a blindfold?, temp play was a hit when you tried it, sort of likes food play but only sometimes, etc.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere except like large practice rooms and dressing rooms, he is okay with the studio, bathrooms, closets, etc. In your house he loves the bed, the couch, the kitchen counter, etc.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Just touch him. Doesn’t matter how just do it. He wants your hands all over him and even the slightest touch gets him soooo hard like oh my god if you really wanna mess with him then lightly trail your fingers over his neck so it tickles slightly and then go down his chest until you’re about to reach his waistband and then just stop

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Does not like brattiness, I know I said he has a master kink but like he doesn’t like it to the point one of you is being just pure rude or something. DEGRADATION IS A NO GO this boy is someone who never wants to hurt your feelings even in the slightest way or as a joke, even if it turns you on he just feels wrong doing it

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Loves giving and receiving a like, waking him up with a blowjob or you waking up with his head between your thighs is not something unusual or only occasional, it happens maybe once a week or more.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He is all over the place, it changes mid round most of the time unless you guys are in like a super short schedule or like a love making session ya know?

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Doesn’t mind them but if he can take his time with you he would prefer it. Occasional quickies happen in the studio or just to relieve some stress quick, I’d say at least like 3 a month?

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Nothing that would hurt either of you extremely or emotionally, like I pointed out previously he is down for spanking he loves that shit but degradation is a no go for this man. Also doesn’t really like the risk of getting caught, although he is okay with semi public he doesn’t like knowing that people can hear you and will most likely catch on

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Depends on the day honestly, if he is super tired he just wants maybe foreplay or just one round, at most he can go for like three rounds and maybe just maybe a round of foreplay but that doesn’t happen often

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Likes light bondage but that is really it, doesn’t care for other toys, maybe a vib and maybe a dildo if it is only used when he is gone (def got one of those like “mold a dick” things and made one of his own for you lolol)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Doesn’t tease much, if he was gonna take the time to tease you he could just fuck you so why not fuck you instead

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Tries to hold back as much as he can but noises do slip out, moaning groaning whining whimpering it all happens but when he tries to hold them back you get whimpers that are more hums and heavy breathing. When he cums tho its like gasp and then a whine and maybe a moan

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

When I say pet play I think he also wants to sub as like your “puppy” or something, lowkey likes the feeling of being owned but doesn’t ever want to make you feel that way unless you’re like super into it

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Like smaller than average but also gives me the vibe that he is average, def not super big. I see him as like 5-5.8in doesn’t really make it to 6in all the way, pretty good width though

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pretty medium sex drive, when he is super stressed his sex drive is high high high but honestly sometimes his tiredness gets so bad that he legit wont want to at all unless he can fully savor it

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Falls asleep pretty fast but only once one of you have finished aftercare, sometimes if he is super tired please tell the baby it is fine if he goes ahead to sleep cause if not he will make sure to go through the whole set of aftercare for you

177 notes · View notes

jksangelic · 5 years

Text

more than friends | two (m)

↳ rating: M

↳ genre: smut, dramatic baby angst, lots-o-fluff, roommate!jungkook,

↳ pairing: reader x jungkook

↳ warnings: very light sexual harassment from tae, a pinch of violence (chill out, jungkook), fingering, unprotected sex, stretch kink (is that the correct term lol), honestly it’s really romantic sexy times but… jungkook is still a cocky bastard. i probably threw a daddy kink back in there at some point.

↳ summary: a couple weeks since “the incident”, you and jungkook attend hoseok’s opening night to his new club, a very infamous face appearing amongst the crowd and causing some issues along the way.

↳ note: i still cannot believe how much love “more than friends” received, and per several requests (that are so greatly appreciated), i decided to add a second part. a celebration for 4k notes on part one, if you will! thank you so much for your support and i’m so incredibly excited to write more for you all!

(yes, this is the second time i’ve posted this because my tumblr was being wack. sorry if you’ve already seen this.)

↳ words: 4,954

↳ series: one | two | ?

if you prefer to read this on ao3, click here.

The rough of Jungkook’s hand against your tapping leg was always comforting, he thinks. Mapping out every curve of muscle and fat was a transfixing action for him; therapeutic, if he must say. He knew that the situation called for his care, your leg insisting to bob at an incredible pace and hands running through your hair so often that despite your necessity to wash it every damn day, he was positive your roots suffered from greasiness. For once, his touch didn’t simmer your running thoughts. Not tonight, it wouldn’t.

“Hey, baby, why don’t we just tell Hobi that we’ll come some other night? I just… I don’t know if I feel like dealing with all of that yet,” you try, holding his prying hand with both of your own.

Jungkook shakes his head, either that or the vehement shaking of his Jeep throttles it from side-to-side and hell you dreamed of the day he would trade it in. “Not a chance, you’ve been dying to go to this since Hoseok-hyung mentioned it over two weeks ago. Don’t let that bastard stop you from doing something you want to do,” his face sneers once again at the thought of Taehyung, “I’ll be there, anyway. He won’t get near you. Not if I can help it.”

You try to allow his words to settle in while your stomach does anything but, resorting to picking at the fake tattoos trailing up your right arm, one arrow-stricken heart with the thick lettering of “mom” in the middle looking more like a mangled scab. “Don’t pick at those,” Kook scolds, “I spent a whole dollar at the Dollar Store for them.”

When you arrive at the long awaited Soul, the parking lot is filled with Hoseok’s many guests. It was a very big night for him, opening his own nightclub in the heart of downtown as he always dreamed. You wouldn’t miss his special day for the world, yet, the prospect of seeing Taehyung (damn Hoseok and his socially-adept personality) made you reconsider such a feeling.

After a few minutes of circling the crowded lot, Jungkook comes around to open your door for you, pink crop top making you giggle for the first time in hours. He cocks his head in annoyance, “Is my suffering funny? How do you wear these? I feel so exposed.”

You pick at your nails, purring a, “It’s how I attract all my lovers.” He rolls his eyes in response, only willing to deal with your overflowing conviction when you’re a feast to the eyes.

“Alright, alright. Let’s go in, yeah? You look too hot to not stop by just for a bit. If you feel too shitty, then I’ll take you back home. Deal?” He kisses you tenderly, receiving your yes in muffled lipstick stains to his mouth and hiking your leg to stretch around his waist playfully.

Fake retching sounds in the distance, Jimin popping into your peripheral with a celebratory bottle and a face of utter displeasure, “Are you guys going to come into Hobi’s new place or are you just going to ditch to fuck in his parking lot?” Jungkook growls into your hair, releasing your leg from its warm spot on his hip and moving enough for you to hop out.

“Probably the latter if you weren’t such a cockblocker,” your hostile boyfriend answers beneath his breath.

They continue to bicker even upon entry to Soul, your ears completely tuning out at what a beauty Hoseok really set up. It was a little more upscale than your average nightclub, traditionally dark but vaguely lit by the surreal amount of neon signs adorning the walls; shapes and sentences combining together to create a uniquely charismatic atmosphere. The furniture was ultimately minimalistic to avoid tackiness, the bar large and mostly similar to the rest. It was predominantly one of the best looking clubs you’ve ever stepped foot in, props to Hobi. It distracted from the crowd that awaits below, sudden anxiety gobbling you back up at the sight of so many bodies and knowing one of them was one you’d like to forego ever seeing again.

“Oh my—I get it! You’re each other, right? That’s fucking fantastic,” a voice blares, breaking your trance yet again.

“Hobi! I’m so glad you understand it,” you say with a smile, throwing fake-tattooed arms around his neck in embrace. He takes another good once-over when you release him, sunny cheeks practically glowing in the dark.

“Heavens, you look better as Jungkook than Jungkook does,” Hobi teases, giving Kook a rundown of his own and chuckling at the sight of him in anything other than the color black. “How many handies did she offer to get you in a crop-top? Are those… Are those mom jeans you’re wearing?”

Jungkook grumpily swats at the older’s cheeky hands when it smooths over his toned and very much exposed stomach, “She didn’t offer me any, goddammit. Fuck, why didn’t I think of that?” You roll your eyes in only the smallest amount of amusement.

“What about you, Jung? Now that you own a club, you dress as a pimp?” Jungkook backfires, grabbing a fistful of his white suit and examining it.

“No, you ass. I’m the Korean Michael Jackson,” he explains, showcasing a few haughty steps to the blaring music. How did you even become friends with… this?

“Okay, well, we’re going to go indulge in your new digs. We’ll catch up with you back in a bit,” you giggle. He waves the both of you off, immediately busying himself with the next group that comes in. Jungkook whines to stop by the bar and pile up, though you don’t reject his request in the slightest. Rather, you drink that shit up.

In the midst of spilling drinks and the haze of foul-smelling smoke do you find yourself in the crowd, sprinkling grins here and loud hello’s there, inevitably shrinking into Jungkook’s figure with the more people you mindfully tally up. He doesn’t mind, albeit tugging on your shirt to finally settle in one place of the floor to thoroughly soak up your presence. “We’ll get the rest later. Just warm up and dance already, brat.” You hum and trail your hands under and up his shirt, relishing in the rare occasion (and soon to be discontinued) of your boyfriend in a crop top. He returns the favor, gripping your ass in it’s pitch black latex skirt.

“You should dress like me more often. I love seeing you in black, it’s sexy.”

“I wish you wore pink more. It suits you.”

“Should we just switch the roles entirely?” he jesters, poking at your tattoos like a marveling child.

You smirk, “Should I buy a strap?”

His face drains of all color in an instant, nostrils flaring, “Ok, I’ve had enough of this joke.” Pfft, such fragile masculinity.

And like that, your worries drain as if they never existed. Jungkook made more of an effort than ever before as your friend to make you happy. Of course, altering the boundaries of your relationship from platonic to romantic was the case, but Jungkook was more fragile, now. More caring. More protective. Taehyung would never want to change for you. That realization would never stray from your mind.

The costumes around you sway vividly, wings of fairies wavering, tails of various animals poking one another, characters of an arrangement of current shows testing your knowledge of pop culture. You’re more than enthralled to be here in the warmth of your friends.

“Having fun, babydoll?” Jungkook husks out from behind, fingers digging into your skirt as you haphazardly grind against him. “You’re giving me… issues back here.” You melt in his hold, twirling about so you can face the man of your dreams and kiss him as such.

“You’re so good to me, daddy. Thanks for taking me out tonight,” you purr. His jaw slacks at his name, raking lust-brimmed eyes over your spilling breasts in their matching midnight teddy, innocently tucked away into your skirt as if he didn’t know what it looked like alone. Spoiler: he’s seen it a countless amount of times.

“I know it’s for the sake of great costume, but shit, Y/N. Wearing lingerie in public? I don’t remember verbally stating that I condone this,” he grunts, biting at your neck shamelessly.

“I’m trying to be sweet and you’re focused on my tits,” you harrumph, pulling away from the horndog waste of your boyfriend before he leaves a giant hickey on your collar. “Go make yourself useful and get me another drink! And tuck your boner!” He rolls his eyes but complies, even squatting awkwardly to shift his growing hard-on in those “mom jeans”. You chuckle as you watch him go, undulating mindlessly and overflowing with adoration.

And possibly piss. Most definitely urine.

You slither your way off the dance floor, scoping out all possible restroom areas and settling on the hallway with the humongous neon light that spelled out “toilet” as would for the entrance to heaven. Thanks, Hoseok.

The music zones out with every step down the hall, drunken tittering echoing when it seems to stretch farther and farther like a scene off The Haunted Mansion. A man stumbles out from the restrooms, desperately strangling his belt into submission but failing quite miserably. Laughs bubble, yet again, out from your throat at the sight.

“Is something funny—Oh,” the man smirks, deep voice dragging ice up your back, “Hey, kitten.”

Your face squishes into repugnance, Taehyung roaring at your reaction and swerving closer to your frozen body, “Didn’t miss me so much, huh?”

“I don’t want to talk to you, Tae. Leave me alone.”

“’Tae’? Oh, honey, you can’t avoid me if you tried. Shame, I wish you would’ve at least called me after that whole… ordeal.” Not realizing you cower away from his figure until your shoulders hit the wall, you flinch. In this proximity, you realize Taehyung’s eyes are bloodshot, gorgeously half-lidded and even more entrancing than the last time you saw him. His makeup makes it worse, dark eyeshadow smudged out and fake blood dripping from his full lips; a vampire suited him. Cold, indifferent, ready to suck you up without remorse.

“Taehyung, buzz off. You’re high.”

Trying to attempt your escape, he traps you between his arms, head dipping low to closely probe your own costume and grunting, “You knew I’d be here, huh? You wouldn’t have come if you didn’t want to. So what’s it?” he slurs, “Need some company?”

You push uselessly at his chest, head unfortunately spinning and breathing imitating possibly anything but distress, “Tae, I c-can’t. Let me go, I need to go. I’m sorry,” you pant. His thumb swipes across your cheek, sweet as poison.

“Sorry? Sorry for what, kitten,” his breath sears next to your ear, “Sorry that I caught you fucking your stupid roommate?” His snickers vibrate, guilt resurfacing when it shouldn’t and you should’ve have never come out tonight goddammit.

“J-Jungkook,” you voice, cracking with need and too quiet for even Taehyung to hear. You fist at his shirt, desperately but weakly clawing your way out and wincing away from Kim’s nipping mouth.

All Jungkook sees is Taehyung pressed against you, your whimpers quiet as if it’s trying to keep a secret. All Jungkook hears is that awful, cocky voice growling into your neck with unadulterated lust. All Jungkook feels is red.

Although your eyes blur with frustrated tears, you render that Taehyung must have finally heeded your request when your chest is free of his weight. That is, until you see him on the ground, your enraged boyfriend pelting bloody knuckles into Taehyung’s once-flawless face.

“Jungkook!” you scream, falling onto your knees and tugging on his shirt before he kills him, for all you know. “Jungkook, stop!”

He does, faltering away from your grasps and standing abruptly. Taehyung groans, costume blood indistinguishable from his own, real fluid. Jungkook stares at you with pain etched onto his angular features, rage replacing it soon after.

“You. You weren’t afraid to see him because of what happened. You were afraid to see him because you still love this douchebag, don’t you?” he spits nonsensically. You reach for him, head shaking and stumbling over words of reassurance, but he denies it all.

“What the hell is going on here?” Hoseok yells, rounding the corner and eyes blowing wide at the sight before him. Jungkook scoffs, shoulder-checking his hyung on his way out. Tripping over yourself, you run after him, tears stinging hot down your face and heart racing.

“Jungkook! Jungkook, listen! That’s not what—”

He comes to a complete halt; how you don’t crash right into him, you have no clue. The tired expression he wears when he turns breaks your heart, “I love you, Y/N. I love you. And there’s no room for that shithead over there. I’m the one who cares about you.”

“Jesus, Jungkook! If you would just let me—" you try again, but Jungkook is off once again. Griping at your idiot of a boyfriend’s stubbornness, you watch him leave. You could scream if you weren’t in the middle of public, rage and sorrow and guilt practically flowing out of your pores. Instead, you round yourself back to the hallway to find a wincing Taehyung propped against the wall and a worried Hoseok tending to him.

“Jungkook thought we were canoodling, I guess. So he beat the shit out of him,” you explain, Hoseok jumping at your reappearance. Squatting down next to him, you sigh, “He left.”

“The guy really packs a punch,” Tae admits, wiping for the umpteenth time at his bloody nose, “I think he knocked the high out of me.” You scowl.

“Do you need a ride, Y/N?” Hoseok offers. You felt bad; this was his own event and you ruined it, but you could really use his help so you nod a little reluctantly.

“I’m sorry. Do you mind if you give us a minute?” you ask, nodding to Taehyung. Hobi complies, standing and waiting at the end of the hallway until you need him back.

“Taehyung, I’m sorry things ended the way they did. I should’ve explained myself but I was still kinda confused about… whatever.

“But me and Jungkook are together now. So. If you can kindly fuck off or something.”

“Jesus, Y/N, I know I can be a dick but you could have at least tried to mention that.”

“You make everything difficult, Taehyung. From the day we met,” you accuse, “You were the worst fuck I’ve ever come across.”

He chuckles, looking into your eyes for the first time tonight and looking genuinely apologetic, “You’re not a bad gal, Y/N. I think we could’ve been something good.”

What the hell?

He didn’t get to do this; claim you one second, reject you the next, propose you could’ve been good another. Perhaps you dreamt of this day a long time ago, secretly wishing and hoping and longing for Taehyung to want you the same way that you wanted him.

But all you can think of now is Jungkook. His buck teeth and his horrible omelets and how he recently started sleeping in your bed with you instead of his own. Maybe, for a while, you just accepted the affection Taehyung never thought to give you, as horrible as it sounds. But now, with Taehyung subtly offering, you know for sure it’s just Jungkook.

You love Jungkook.

“Relationships aren’t for you, Tae.”

His smile turns mischievous, “I suppose not.”

Hoseok presses that you aren’t a nuisance all the way home, comfortingly rubbing at your back as you chew on your nails. How unfortunate, coming to his party a wreck and leaving it just the same.

Your goodbyes are short and apologetic; he practically has to nudge you with the hood of his car to enter your apartment complex.

“Hello?” you question softly, shutting the front door with a quiet click and padding through the dim room. For the most part, everything is shut off and you even wonder if Jungkook came home at all. Slinking into the hallway, a quick glimpse to your room reveals he isn’t asleep on your mattress like he normally is, your heart cracking slightly at the revelation. His own door is shut, and you suppose he would sleep in his own room after tonight.

You, on the other hand, don’t even feel a wink of drowsiness.

Jungkook hears the shower shutter through his closed door, using all of the force collected in his body not to step in with you and properly talk about the events that occurred. He doesn’t, because he’s stubborn like that. He doesn’t, because he knows your showers are normally for your personal times of mulling over complications.

And even though he’s furious, his chest warms of admiration.

You wash your tensions down the drain, steam circulating the small bathroom and no doubt fogging the mirror. The valve is verging on the edge of it’s setting, scalding water undoubtedly leaving your skin a punishing red. It’s how you were able to think clearly; your aches and worries literally seared off and paving way for new, clean thoughts.

You knew he would forgive you the minute things are explained, laid out in the open. As quick as a bag of chips can be inhaled, the man would cradle you in his arms again with a lilt of stubborn understanding. But that didn’t calm you as it should. Perhaps, it was yourself that was having a hard time with confrontation. Maybe, at the time, you were still hoping that Taehyung would come for you and never let you go, a longing for a miracle that wasn’t even really that much of a miracle. The lack of, instead, was your epiphany.

And Jungkook was so good. Sure, an asshole, but he was all the things you hoped for in Tae. Even more, he loves you.

Though you realize your feelings for Taehyung have dissipated and rather blossom for Jungkook, the lingering guilt of being able to see Kook, touch him, kiss him, sleep with him is sickening. How could you be so cruel?

You step out of your shower unresolved, and a little queasy. Were you always having existential crisis’ in the bathroom?

Unconsciously, you find yourself in front of Jungkook’s room once again, internally debating what the best course of action would be. Just by turning the knob and inching the door ajar, the scream of it’s hinges makes you want to rip it off completely, already regretting the intrusion. Welp, it’s too late.

Jungkook lays atop his comforter like always, a few joking arguments stemming from the fact that he really doesn’t need blankets when the guy’s a walking heater. “It’s for the aesthetics of a nice room,” he had said, “What kind of mongrel would I be for having a naked bed?”

From your standing, he looks asleep, bare chest rising and falling; up, down, pause, up, down. His thick brows stitched together like he fell asleep angry and you roll your eyes at the thought.

He doesn’t even falter when your weight shifts the bed, sitting on the open spot next to his torso and ghosting your fragile hands over his locks, waiting for him to wake and chew you out. When he continues to purr in his slumber, you pet him gently, hair dark and soft across your fingers.

“I… I’m glad we went tonight,” you whisper, barely even producing enough noise for yourself to catch, “And I’m glad I ran into Taehyung. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have noticed how good you are for me. I’m so thankful to him.”

Breathing.

“And I feel horrible for making you doubt yourself, even if it was unintentional,” your throat heats, pain running down as your voice wobbles, “I wish—I wish I was as good for you as you are for me.

“J-Jungkook,” your tears run freely down your face now, “I love you. I love you, so much. There’s no me without you. I don’t want anyone else—“

You stop there, afraid your pathetic sobs will wake him. Leaning down, you gently bury your face in his hair, kissing him softly and letting the smell of his shampoo tickle your nose. Your love engulfs, fills your bones, makes you so dizzy that it hurts.

A few seconds pass before you remove yourself from him, easing your body off his mattress with precision.

Your world flips, throat so heavy you don’t even try to yelp as you flop onto the other side of his body, his strong arms wrapped around your ribs and holding you tightly against him as your legs drape over his. “Don’t cry, love,” he husks, “God, I’ve been wanting for you to say that for so, so long.”

“Jungkook,” you weep in panic, “Jungkook, nothing happened, I didn’t do anything—”

“I know. I’m sorry, I got a little presumptuous.” He brings his lips to your eyes, kissing the tears away and sprinkling a few more on your cheeks.

Your towel slipped from his attack, breasts peaking under the cloth and inviting Jungkook to travel lower to give them attention as well. His voice is deep enough to rattle you up, cracking slightly when he says, “I just want you to be mine.”

You lace your fingers through his mop once again, massaging his scalp and letting the moment sink in. This is what was needed—a reconciliation of sorts. Through both of your stubborn minds and limbs did neither of you properly close your old path to open a new one for him, did neither of you talk. It was new, exciting, uncharted territory. You had jumped in without really understanding the rules and concepts, but it didn’t matter now. Not when everything now fell into place like a puzzle that was just ignorantly started from the inside out, rather than setting the foundation of each side and corner.

“I am yours. Every little bit of me is yours now. I’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out. You did well,” you praise, smoothing his bangs up and away from his face. His eyes are glossy, enough moisture to collect in his long eyelashes but not enough to stain his cheeks like yours do.

He looks up, finally, slowly closing the distance to rake over your features before he kisses you oh-so softly. It’s the most fragile he’s ever been with you, the most genuine. His lips mold to your movements, his tongue only follows when yours pokes out, he takes as little as possible.

“Jungkook,” you breathe, “you can.”

“Don’t want to ruin anything.”

“It’s not. This is different.”

He flips you to your side, holding you close and enclosing you in the safety of his body. When he surrenders, he dips his fingers between your legs and uses the shower’s dew to stretch you across two of his digits, moving carefully but diligently. The feeling of your bare back to his large chest, for some reason, is more intimate than you normally find his common proximity and it makes you sigh.

The jabbing of his own problem against your ass prompts you to reach behind and grasp him firmly, warming him up without sneaking into his briefs just yet.

“You always feel so good,” he pants, twitching in your grip and propping himself on his elbow so he can nibble on your ear, “here, too.” The arching of his fingers in your heat makes you cry out.

“Are your hands okay?” you question the same second you remember his injuries. He chuckles.

“My knuckles hurt a bit, but I patched them up for the most part. It’s not going to keep me from fingering you, if that’s what you’re wondering,” his voice soothes, a third finger added for reassurance. The stretch is sublime, foregoing your own job and grinding against him as an incompetent apology. Jungkook doesn’t mind it, moving his hips in little circles to stimulate himself even further; rather, he likes it quite a bit.

“Ready?”

You don’t answer, arching your spine instead so Jungkook’s head can easily find your entrance, pushing his way inside without even removing two fingers that remain buried deep in your cunt. He knows you like a little pain with your pleasure, pain that doesn’t remain when the strain subsides and the languid thrusts send shivers up your skin.

“Oh god, Jungkook, that feels—you feel so amazing,” you groan, feeling the stickiness of your juices every time his hips meet the curve of your ass, deep squelches getting louder the longer he repeats the movement, “s-slow, please, keep it slow, baby.”

He lazily rolls into you, each shove perfectly aiming for the bundle of nerves that makes your eyes heavy; using all the strength in your body not to shut your thighs when Kook’s hand, littered with old and new tattoos, stays in its comfortable spot. His digits curl every so often, as if to remind you they’re still there, making you purr in his embrace even more.

The heat of his body emanates, warming you up despite how cold it is outside and in the apartment. As he protects you from the cold so will he from anything else, and it makes your heart stutter.

“Tell me you love me,” he rasps as lovingly as he can into your ear, nothing but pure desire to hear the three words drip from your lips.

“I love you.” You mean it.

“More,” he begs; he doesn’t care if he sounds pathetic.

“I love you, I love you, I love you. Jungkook, Jeon Jungkook, I love you with every fiber of my being,” you hiccup, pawing at his intrusive hand. He removes it hastily, replacing it’s warmth by sticking his fingers to your tongue to lap up.

“I never want to stop hearing you say that,” he admits, pace quickening so that your breasts bounce with each focused push into your walls. You could cum like this, foggy tears blurring his bedroom with how close your orgasm is. It’s cut short when he takes himself out and sits up, pulling you onto your back and slotting himself between your legs.

His hands find support on his headboard while you wrap weak legs around him, one on his thigh and the other on his back as he rocks into you once more.

The tattoos on his chest move whenever he flexes, a sort of mirage entrancing you as he works your pussy to reach the same amount of ecstasy before. It’s the first time you can really look at his face, as well, all images of loving and soft features a complete and utter miscalculation. Even though he makes love to you like no other, he has a face of control in all of its entirety. One of his brows is quirked, his tongue poking his upper lip in focus, his abs constricting then relaxing. He knows only he can make you feel like this, hips cocky as they slap against your skin in unbridled dominance.

His normally doe-eyes glimmer with devilment, “Who can fuck you as good as I do?”

You sigh, “I thought we were being cute.”

“I’m not fucking cute. I’m fucking you,” he growls, ramming into your poor pussy so firmly that the headboard thumpthumpthumps against the wall, no doubt damaging the paint. “Is there anyone better than me?”

“You know there isn’t,” you retort with a squeak.

“I want to hear you say it.”

You moan flagrantly on a particular jab that makes your insides coil and your entire body shuffle up his sheets, three or four seconds too long he snarls a, “Say it!”

“No one’s better than daddy, I promise,” you choke, lamely reaching up for him as if you weren’t already close enough. He obliges, propping his weight on one elbow and smoothing over tears you didn’t know were shed with a thumb. He quenches his thirst with an open-mouth kiss, moans that starts to resemble mine, mine, mine onto your tongue as his hips falter in both fatigue and the aching need to cum. You coo him through it, nipping at his jaw and whispering words of praise when he whines vulnerably. The bratty, stubborn Jungkook was long gone; the sensitive and adoring love of your life resting, quite heavily, atop your chest as he fills you up silently.

“Not so tough, huh, baby?” He grunts unpleasantly.

His body rolls off, head remaining in the crook of your neck, “You just took a shower,” he says. He can’t even open his eyes if he tried, he feels so goddamn tired.

“Yeah, I’ll just wash up tomorrow.”

“Let me clean you,” he pries, forcing his brain to cooperate for two seconds, please. It doesn’t take much strength to keep him in position.

“Relax, Kookie.”

You trace over the ink on his back softly, outlining the lotuses a few times and kneading out the tension in his shoulder blades. The ticking of his wall clock is all that’s left to hear, the Iron Man behind the glass staring at you in an uncomfortable manner. You’d have to get rid of that if you were going to be together.

“Hey,” you start, a sudden idea exciting you. Peering down, Jungkook’s eyes are sealed shut, lips parted only enough to feel his faint breath as he dozes off into a deep slumber. It isn’t fake this time, you know for sure.

Oh well.

You rest your chin against his head and try your best to sleep as well; you suppose you could tell him in the morning.

A/N: hello sweet angel babies! again, thank you for supporting me thus far and i apologize that this isn’t as filthy as the first one. I really wanted to make Jungkook more genuine in this. However, this will be one of those fics where’ll I’ll casually drop in some non-smutty/smutty drabbles every so often!

With that being said, I don’t mind requests for drabbles as well as character asks! Feel free to drop-in whenever.

with love, poppy.

1K notes · View notes

acrobaticcatfeline · 5 years

Text

Logan and His Little Bumble Bee (Single Dads AU) Chapter 4!!!

Word Count: 3643

TW: swearing, deceit, vague mentions of vague trauma, arguments, crying, unconscious projecting, one quick mention of homophobia, roman is a big nervous a lot lmk if I missed anything!!!

Notes: This was out way sooner than I expected. So I made this one revolving around Roman and Dmitri for once, because we don’t get that much and now he has thoughts and things to say!!! Anyways it starts a bit angsty but its really soft and fluffy and I love my baby gays. It’s dialogue heavy this time around, it’s almost as if my writing changes subconsciously depending on which character I am writing. Huh. I hope you enjoy it, I worked my butt off for it. Previous chapter here, first chapter here!

Summary: “you are 15 years old! Absolutely not!!!” Logan is having trouble letting Roman be himself, projecting his own bad experiences on him without realizing it. Roman and Dmitri kiss a lot because they’re really soft and really gay.

“you are 15 years old! Absolutely not!!!”

“dad people in my grade have been dating since they were 10 come on!”

“and they're irresponsible and don’t know better! Roman it is not a good idea-”

“Logan dear be rational; kids are supposed to-”

“NO!”

Everyone paused as Logan screamed. Roman had flinched and Logan winced knowing he caused it, but he couldn’t just stop at this point.

“Roman, dating this young is a bad idea, take it from me. I mean that was when I got together with mercy-”

“you can’t say that like it’s the biggest mistake you’ve made dad!!! Because… because if it was then I would have-I know it ended badly with you and her, but you were still happy at the time! You can’t just keep me from experiencing things because you're scared dad. I'm not you. I-I need to live my own life eventually, and if I don’t know how to then what am I gonna do when I'm an adult?”

“you don’t- Roman that isn't necessary to be happy, I mean look at me and Patton-”

“well maybe I don’t want to pine for someone for 9 years!!! Maybe, maybe I want to live my life now, instead of waiting in fear!!! Maybe I want my happily ever after before I settle down, maybe, for once, I want to live my life without worrying that I'm a disappointment to my parents!!! I know you don’t mean to but you just, you make everything so hard! You-you have so much, so much hope. That I'm going to be this perfect kid and I'm gonna grow up to be amazing, and its exhausting! I want to make a decision without worrying that I'm going to do wrong by you! And then mercy… mercy never saw me for me, and I always had to be perfect for her and she's gone now but I'm just so tired dad! I'm tired of trying to fit inside this perfect box that I think you have for me, I want to be a teenager, I want to date, I want to go to parties, I want to make mistakes and not cry myself to sleep thinking I've made you hate me. It’s so hard to try to make you happy all the time. I want to have a chance to just make me happy.”

Logan stared at Roman. He had been trying so hard to protect him and take care of him, and all he had been doing was overwhelming him. He had never meant to do any of it, Roman was right, but he went back through his brain and it hurt to see that he had unconsciously pushed his son onto a pedestal that was impossible to escape from. He was never disappointed in him, whether he did good or bad or made mistakes, he had always tried to show that he was proud no matter what. He felt tears welling in his eyes and saw Roman twist uncomfortably. He felt Patton's arm wrap around his shoulders, but he couldn’t stay there, his mind was racing too fast. He was catastrophizing he knew, but he couldn’t so easily stop himself. His head was knocked out of the process when Roman ran into his arms, wrapping him in a hug. He let his arms fold around his sons waist, letting a few tears fall.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry dad I just- I needed to tell you and I was going to tell you in a nicer way, a better planned way but then this happened and it all came out I'm sorry dad I didn’t mean to make you cry”

“it’s- its fine Ro. I needed to hear that from you. I'm. I'm sorry Ro I didn’t mean it. I try so hard to show that I'm always proud of you, god you have helped me so much and I've never realized that I was making you feel so pressured I'm sorry bee, I’ll try harder, I didn’t know-”

Logan’s head was buried in Roman’s chest, it was the benefit of his son growing taller than him, he could hide his tear stained face out of sight. He sniffed a bit, rubbing his eyes before letting go of him. He smiled widely at Roman.

“I was wrong to have set such impossible standards. It was wrong of me to treat you like I had a second chance at my childhood. I really, just want the best for you but-”

He took a sharp inhale and looked him in the eyes.

“but its your life. And-and if you want, if you want to date. Then, I-I support you completely. Because, because I love you Roman. So so much.”

His eyes teared up again, and he let out a choked laugh while rubbing his eyes clear. Roman smiled at him and hugged him again, thanking him profusely. At that point Virgil walked back inside. He looked at the scene, sending a questioning glance at Patton over the other two. Patton let out a small smile and shook his head, to which Virgil shrugged and went upstairs without a further thought.

“so, he was fine with it?”

“I mean he wasn’t, but I explained a few things and he's fine with it now. It took a little bit of the harsher truths to be spilled for him to understand my point, and a few tears, but yeah.”

“wow. I haven’t seen… either of you cry in my entire time knowing you.”

“yeah it doesn’t happen often. I think the last time I saw my dad cry was when he told me that mercy wasn’t coming back.”

“geez that’s a long time. And its always baffled me that I've never seen you cry; I've known you since you were 2.”

“yeah, I'm a uh, private crier. I don’t think I've cried in front of people really since I could talk.”

“fuck man how the hell did you manage that?”

“… I mean I don’t remember it, but I think it was a leftover from when I still lived with mercy.”

“what.”

“eh, it doesn’t matter.”

“no wait what? What did she do to you?”

“pfft, I just told you Vee, I don’t remember. I get vague fuzzy feelings that are sorta like if memories were feelings, but otherwise I have no idea.”

“that’s fucked up man”

“meh. Anyways back to the original topic, soooo can I get Dmitri's number?”

“oh my god.”

“oh, and you're at 75 cents.”

“shit.”

“a dollar!”

Virgil had handed over his number easily, smirking as Roman gave him a hug before dashing into his own room. Roman had immediately sent Dmitri a text, ‘hey, its Roman! Dads way more chill now so I stole your number from Virgil’ and he had responded almost immediately.

‘neat so are we gonna talk about what that was?’

‘I mean, I thought it was p straight forward, but I mean if you think we should?’

‘I mean yeah but’

Radio silence for a minute

‘but like, idk if you want this to be serious or smth like, casual. I mean I don’t care either way’

‘oh! Well something serious sounds nice!’

‘thank god I was not prepared for something casual regardless of what I said’

‘pfft, its fine tough guy’

‘if that nickname sticks you gotta use it around rem, it'll make him bug out’

‘alrighty! Tough guy~’

‘ouch yo chill it with that I'm in public’

‘pfft ur a dork Dee!’

‘I am absolutely not a whale’s penis and I'm offended you would even imply it’

‘oh my god I'm gonna break up with you’

‘nooooo don’t do that I'm too dark and mysterious to be broken up with for that’

‘dark and mysterious my butt! The only dark thing about you is your humor and the only mysterious things about you are your eyes!’

‘babe I have a reputation to keep up!’

‘guess your rep will just have to fit me in there somewhere then!’

‘god you are adorable, I gtg before you somehow make me start uwuing at my family’

‘uwu bye bye mistew dmitwi!!!’

‘god its disgusting kill it with fire’

‘love you too Dee! <3<3<3’

‘<3’

Roman set down his phone afterwards, feeling the butterflies attacking his insides like rabid animals. He changed the tab over to his YouTube and put on his headphones, listening to his curated BTS playlist, starting off with answer: love myself, bopping along and humming. He switched the tab and scrolled through Tumblr smiling at the posts about his favorite superheroes.

The next week was absolutely blissful for Roman, he alternated between sitting at his table with a few of his acquaintances who he would chat with about his hyperfixations, and with Dmitri and his friends. Virgil had a different lunch hour luckily, otherwise he would have been slightly embarrassed. But hilariously the first day he sat with Dee, his friends were caught off guard as a boy in soft pastels and stonewashed jeans sat beside Dmitri and was immediately nestled underneath his arm. There were words signed across the table and Dee would chuckle and respond which sent their eyes flying to Roman in his seat as he ate his sandwich oblivious to the reason he was being stared at, just sending kind smiles back at them.

When lunch had ended, he had stood on his toes and kissed Dee’s cheek and his friends all had the shocked looks on their faces again. He ran off to class and had forgotten about the whole interaction afterwards. He was only reminded after school through a text from Dee.

‘sorry about my friends at lunch, they're judgmental shits. I told them off but knowing them they might continue to be asshats anyways’

‘huh. Didn’t even notice. I really need to get around to fully learning sign, I have the smallest feeling that if I'm hanging out with you more it might possibly be useful.’

‘meh, if I really need you to know something and I can’t talk I’ll just text you.’

‘mmm but I still want to learn! Anyways what were they saying’

‘oh they were being dicks about your clothes and then they were being shits about me dating you, they're assholes, I only hang out with them cuz coach had everyone learn sign for me and they're the only people I can talk to during the school day’

‘oh, that’s rude! Do you want me to stop hanging out with you at lunch?’

‘no not at all, I just want you to know what you're getting into’

‘mhm!’

The next time Roman sat with them, he had sent about 8 insults to the people around the table while Dee wasn’t looking, essentially ‘fuck off you judgmental homophobic dicks’ and after that the group shut their traps about him and Dee.

The week after, Dmitri was busy almost always. There was a big game this weekend and he Remy and Virgil were always either practicing, doing schoolwork, or sleeping for the most part. He would send good morning and good night texts but that was mostly it and Roman felt dumb for missing him so much. Virgil invited him to practice after seeing him sitting around staring at his phone like a kicked dog.

He had sat on the bleachers, watching the coach drill them and them playing near their best. They had taken a rest and Dmitri had made his way up to him, a giant bottle of water in hand. He smiled and let out a croaked hello.

“oh, Dmitri when was the last time you spoke?”

He had coughed and held up a 6 on his fingers. Roman pouted and placed a kiss on his chapped lips. Dmitri waved his hand to say it isn't a problem with a smile on his face and it made Roman pout more and kiss him again, wrapping his arms around himself after. Dee ruffled his hair and went to say something when the whistle blew calling them back. He sighed and stood up, signing ‘I love you’ before rushing back to the field. Roman sat in silence, watching them play once again.

Roman was beaming. The game was today and that meant he would get Dmitri back afterwards along with Remy and Virgil. He was filled with jitters; he knows the team had been working tirelessly for the whole week and he was excited to see his friends kick the rival schools butt! He was rushing Patton out the door again, just like he was a few weeks before but for a separate reason this time.

He wasn’t expecting the time at the game to fly as quick as it did, but here he was. It was nearing the end and they weren’t very far ahead, and the worry was clear on the teams faces. And then Dmitri had the ball! The crowd roared in surprise and excitement as he weaved around the opposition. He got caught near the goal and Roman was on the edge of his seat as Dmitri kicked the ball straight into the goal. The cheers were immediate, the buzzer signaling the end of the game followed a few seconds later. Roman was up and standing at the edge of the guardrail of the bleachers jumping up and down and screaming. He raced down and met Dmitri at the entrance of the showers, looking around before tugging him off towards the underside of the bleachers. He spoke in barely restrained squeals.

“Dee I'm so proud of you!!! Oh, my goodness you did so well!!! I can’t even-”

Dmitri cut him off with a kiss, one that Roman reciprocated immediately, wrapping his arms around his neck and tilting his head as well as he could with the height difference they had when suddenly he wasn’t standing on his own feet but being held in the air from his waist. He broke the kiss with a squeak, placing his hands-on Dmitri's shoulders as he was hoisted in the air by a happy Dee. He squeaked again as he was spun around before being set on the ground. When he was steady again, he looked up at Dmitri with an amused but confused face.

“we did it”

“you did! Had you not processed that yet?”

“not really no.”

“oh, my goodness you are a dork.”

“listen if you had scored the last goal you would be a little stunned too”

“valid however-”

“oh, just shut up and kiss me again you prep”

“gladly”

“ey before you two start making out you might want to go talk to the team? They're sort of wanting to congratulate you, but you disappeared.”

Roman froze in embarrassment at his brother catching them. Dmitri just smirked and turned to face him.

“listen if any of them could get a significant other they would understand. But considering that even you haven’t gotten the nerve to ask out Remy yet, I guess they wouldn’t so I guess I should grace them with my presence, huh babe?”

“hey, fuck off my little brother didn’t need to know I like your brother!”

“oops!”

Roman giggled a bit at the blush that spread across Virgil's face. He nudged Dmitri.

“be nice honeybee. And he's right, I stole you from your festivities! We should head back over; we can be cute later”

“nonsense, that implies that you can stop being cute”

“bluhhhh that’s my brotherrrrr come on you two, be gross later”

“DMITRI THAT WAS LEGENDARY!!!”

Dee had a cocky look on his face as his teammates congratulated him, Remy running up and tackling in a hug at first sight. He chuckled wordlessly at his brother who was screaming praise at him and then dragging him into the showers. The team followed them in all continuing to shout praise and Roman contemplated following as well. He eventually just went in after about 10 minutes, finding Dmitri surrounded by his team and. He blanched and turned around a corner, hiding his face in his hands. On the other side, Dmitri sat with blue jeans and no shirt, still dripping water from his hair. He took a few big breaths before wandering back over, not trying to push past anyone and just standing where he knew Dmitri could see him. He flushed when Dmitri smiled and winked at him over the heads of his teammates, curling up in his arms and covering his face again. He whispered to himself in his hands

“gosh I'm really gay and he's unfairly pretty”

It wasn’t much longer before the group had filed out, done with the celebration, Virgil given him a nudge as he left. He walked in, seeing Dmitri finally pulling out his shirt, and Roman couldn’t help but turn away with a bit of shyness hitting him again.

“what's up Roman? You good babe?”

“mhm! You just um,”

His mouth felt dry as salt and he was wondering when that happened.

“you look nice…”

“pfft you're a nerd.”

Roman’s mind came up with several scenarios for what could happen as he stood up to kiss him. Of course, all that happened was hands around his waist as Dee leant down to give him an easier time. He still felt fuzzy but ignored it as Dmitri pulled away to put his shirt on, quickly pulling on his leather jacket on afterwards before placing a kiss on Roman’s temple and grabbing his hand.

“come on, I'm stealing you, my folks are treating the team to ice cream and pizza and they’ve been wanting to meet you.”

“wh-what? Wait you talk about me with your parents?”

“Remy sold me out day one, but yeah, they seem genuinely interested in meeting you, so I mean why not?”

“oh. Ok then. I should probably tell my dads first, but I’ll be back!”

He ran up to Logan, wrapping him in a hug before explaining everything to him and Patton. Logan looked unsure but Patton backed him up.

“Lolo, Virgil's going to be there too, and it’s not like he's going to be stranded! Plus, there's a new diner that opened a bit ago that I've been wanting to take you to!”

“…ok. You have your keys and your wallet and your phone, right?”

“yes dad!”

“…ok then. Go have fun. Let me or pat know when you are coming home.”

“ok! See you guys tonight! Love you!!!”

The party was far more calm than Roman had expected, most of the team dipping early on leaving just him and Virgil as guests. Neither could complain, they had free access to an abundance of pizza and ice cream, and they could spend uninterrupted time with the objects of their affections. Virgil and Remy had absconded upstairs playing games or something while Roman was sitting next to Dmitri and his parents.

“how long have you been dating now?”

“um, 2 weeks!”

“wow! And you two are already attached by the hip huh?”

Roman nodded as his cheeks burned. He felt his boyfriends arm snake around his waist, pulling him closer.

“oh, you two are adorable! We’ll leave you be, don’t have too much fun with him kiddo!”

Roman visibly relaxed as they left, leaning against his boyfriend and letting out a sigh. Dmitri moved his arm up, running his fingers through his hair, grinning at the purr like noise Roman made in response.

“you should stay the night”

“my dad wouldn’t let me do that unless-”

Virgil stormed down the stairs with a lovesick expression.

“Roman we’re staying the night!”

“oh! Does dad-”

“yeah don’t worry its fine they're chill!”

“what happened?”

“I-”

“BOY YOU BETTER GET BACK UP HERE AND KISS ME I'M HAVING KISS WITHDRAWL”

“let’s say me and Remy are a thing now? Gotta go!”

“…about what I was saying…”

“isn't that the best timing huh?”

“oh hush!”

“wanna head to bed? It is pretty late.”

“um, sure. But I wanted to cuddle some more…”

“who said I was gonna stop cuddling you nerd?”

“I? um uh”

“you can share a bed without it being sexual I hope you know.”

“oh! Oh yeah I totally, yeah duh, of course”

“come on babe”

Roman frowned at him rolling his eyes but followed him upstairs. He had walked into his room and grabbed some clothing before filing into the bathroom. When he came back, Roman had to confronts his gay again, as he was shirtless once again and he was talking to him and he's got to focus dammit!

“-so that’s why, also I have various pajamas in there, and I also have shirts that are probably way to big for you in there as well, take your pick.”

“oh um, I was just gonna sleep in this!”

“…yeah no. those jeans are way too form fitting to get away with sleeping in, and your shirt does not look nearly comfortable enough.”

“o-okay then I guess…”

He grabbed a pair of sleep shorts and one of his shirts and headed into the bathroom. When he came back, he immediately launched himself into his boyfriends’ arms. Dmitri giggled seeing the shirt choice, placing a quick kiss on his nose.

“nah you're a sarcastic butterfly”

“shhhhh I'm a sarcastic mothhhh”

“keep tellin yourself that precious”

Roman sputters a bit before giving up and hiding his face in Dee’s chest. Dmitri goes back to playing with Roman’s hair, and Roman leans into the touch. After a bit of time passes, he stops, and nudges Roman fully into bed.

“why’d you stop?”

“because that’s not a comfortable sleep position. Lay down prep, sleep is important.”

“but I don’t want to sleep, I want kisses”

Dmitri rolls his eyes and kisses Roman. By the time he pulls away, Roman has passed out. He laughs quietly and wraps his arms around the smaller boy, letting himself drift off as well.

Taglist: @fivebyfive-finebyfive @tacohippy56900 @analogical-mess @crookedlyoptimisticdestiny @angels-and-dreams @fandomloverangel @asleepybisexual @starbucks-remy @idioticsky @ijustreallylovesanderssides @superwholocked-for-life @band-be-boss-blog @llamaly @logicality-trash @fiive-second-cookies @whats-going-on-kiddos @snowshoe-main-blog @007ardra @internetwhy @musikasworld @Sammy-is-obsessed

Let me know if you want to be tagged in my writing!!!

Thank you for reading I will see you later ladies lords and nonbinary royalty!!!

23 notes · View notes

andwhatdostarsdobest · 6 years

Text

Take a chance | Part one [t.h]

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: for this chapter, none I don’t think. It’s all set up and secret pining.

Summary: Making friends is hard enough, let alone when you have a massive crush on one of them. But what do they say, things always have a way of working themselves out in the end.

Word Count: 2.8k

Prompt: ‘Take a chance. Live a little.’

That picture has mad boyfriend vibes. This was meant to be my submission for @madmadmilk summer writing challenge but whoops life happened and its now September... This is part 1 of five, I think. I haven’t posted in a while and I’ve had this in my drafts so thought i would just post something.

happy reading, lovelies

masterlist part 2

You always loved people watching, wondering where these people had been and where they were headed. Each person has their own life, their own problems and their own people that they care about, trying to figure all that out had become a sort of game to you. You imagined the man walking past in a clean-cut navy suit, with a briefcase in hand and a disgruntled expression, had realised he had picked up his partner’s bag by mistake, and was now power walking to get to his next meeting after collecting the right notes. The group of teenagers, school shirts untucked, and ties pulled loose, laughing hysterically because one of them had called their English teacher Mum and the others wouldn’t let it go. The woman in her 50’s wearing the bright scarlet coat with the fur trim, on her way back from a meeting with the executors of her husbands will, who died under mysterious circumstances.

Okay, that last one may be a bit of a stretch, but it was fun to theorise about the exotic lives people lead. Especially when your own was far from that definition.

Drawing your attention away from the people, the glass of the café window came back into view, condensation coating patches of it. You had drawn a small smiley face in it earlier, although as the droplets dripped from the eyes and mixed with the curve of the smile, it didn’t look so happy anymore. That felt weirdly more accurate though.

“What do you think, Y/N?”

“Y/N?”

Two voices filtered into your subconscious, “huh.”

You turned your head back to the two boys in front of you. One brown haired and one blond. Both irritatingly handsome.

The brown-haired boy tilted his head, “are you alright, Y/N? You’re being quiet today.”

The blond boy chuckled, “she’s just people watching, aren’t you.”

You had only known Tom and Harrison for three months, but you were always surprised by how much they remembered about you. Even the smallest details. They were annoyingly good about remembering those. You tried to keep up, listening intently every time they mentioned something new about themselves, but they seemed to know stuff you were sure you had never told them. You weren’t sure how they were doing it. You suspected witchcraft.

“Because she thinks they are more interesting than the people right in front of her,” Harrison continued.

“Hey, I don’t think that,” you retorted.

“Oh no, I’m sure,” Harrison said, quickly followed by a wink. He often needed to make sure people knew he was joking, his sarcasm often got him in trouble.

You couldn’t help but blush slightly, warmth spreading across the apple of your cheeks. It’s not like you fancied Harrison, you just weren’t used to it. You weren’t exactly the most promiscuous of people. At least you could maintain eye contact with Haz though, if it was Tom that winked, your brain would have flatlined for a few seconds.

Tom’s fingers curled around his mug, his bruised and calloused knuckles prominent against the white ceramic.

Oh my god, Tom’s hands. The dreams you had had about those; entangled in your hair, squeezing slightly too hard on your hip, entwined with your own. Your breath hitched just thinking about it.

He brought the cup up to his mouth, pausing mid-way.

“Well she wouldn’t be wrong, Haz. I know tax reports more entertaining than you.”

Tom instantly erupted in laughter, his eyes crinkling and his tongue sticking out. He pulled his neck back into him as his body rocked. Haz landed a punch on his shoulder, coffee sloshing up the sides of the mug from the movement.

“I’m so sorry, Movie Star, what was that?” Haz stared down his best friend.

Tom was still shaking from laughter, his coffee dangerously close to spilling on his lap.

The boys had these moments when it was blindingly clear they were completely comfortable around each other. They said things that you would only dare say to your best friend. They were totally in sync. You loved watching them, feeling free to truly be themselves. Especially as they spent a lot of time in the public eye and you could sense they were concealing something, holding themselves back partially. But it did feel like just that, you were watching, a spectator at their best friend show and for the most part you didn’t mind at all. But have you ever tried to third wheel a pair of best friends, it’s worse than hanging out with any couple. They are just so many inside jokes and little looks, memories and experiences that you don’t understand, you’re not a part of. Sometimes you can feel a little lost but that’s natural. You know it will come with knowing them longer.

You didn’t ever want to interrupt their friendship. You just weren’t sure how to act in moments like these. You tended to sit back and let them relish it.

Maybe you should get involved or maybe you shouldn’t. You were never good at making decisions.

“Don’t call me, Movie Star,” Tom replied, his laugh now coming out low and slow.

Haz turned in his seat to face Tom, the leather rustling underneath him.

“Is, Movie Star, not good enough anymore? I’m so sorry,” he placed his hand on his chest, “what would you prefer? Mr Holland, Spider-man, a god among men?”

“Well, I am Spider-man so yeah, that works,” Tom raised his eyebrows and brought his mug to his lips, sipping gently at the coffee whilst looking into Haz’s eyes.

The cheeky shit.

Harrison rolled his eyes, “the big man.”

You watched them play fight, noting the slight smirk on both of their faces throughout, signalling they didn’t mean any harm by what they were saying.

God, Tom looked hot when he smirked.

“Care to weight in, Y/N,” Tom directed at you, a mischievous look behind his eyes.

“It’s so hard to be boring when you’re a movie star,” you say, sarcasm evident in your tone.

“Hey, you can’t both gang up on me,” Tom said, placing his mug back on the table and then combing his hand through his hair. You watched his movements intently, the veins on his hands tensed against his skin.

You caught yourself before the staring became weird and uncomfortable, forcing your eyes away from the beautiful boy and focusing on the small vase of pink flowers in the middle of the table. If you could, you would watch Tom for hours. Watch the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the way he would drink from a bottle without it ever touching his lips, watch the muscles in his back shift as he stretched at the end of the film. You weren’t sure if this was borderline creepy but there was something about him that was so entrancing. Somehow everything he did was able to capture and keep your attention. You knew you weren’t the only one either. You saw the way other people looked at him when he walked in a room or engaged them in conversation. Not that you were jealous, he wasn’t yours to be jealous over.

Can’t help but wish he was.

Tom was not what you expected. Maybe that’s why you couldn’t get him out of your mind. He intrigued you in a way no one had in a really long time.

In a really really long time.

“Anyone else hungry? Think I’m going to get a snack,” Tom said.

He pushed himself out of his chair and faced you and Haz.

“I’m offering,” he added.

Haz placed his hand on his stomach knitting his brows, trying to determine if he was hungry or not.

“Nah, I’m alright, mate,” he said.

Tom turned to you, “Y/N, can I tempt you with some food?”

“Not hungry, but you can get me another drink,” you replied.

Tom beamed, “sure, same again?”

“Yes, please.”

Tom patted his pocket, checking his wallet was still there and then headed towards the counter.

You settled back into your chair, sighing heavily.

You wished you could be as relaxed around Tom as you were with Harrison. A big part of you fizzled with a nervous energy when he was around, although you never realised until he left when you felt your shoulders drop and you stopped grinding your teeth.

But then I guess you didn’t have a thing for Harrison.

“So, how have you been, Y/N?” Harrison asked.

“Not too bad, uni has been hectic but only a few weeks left now.”

“Did you manage to get your final assignment finished? Last I heard was you spamming me with messages saying how close to death you were.” His lips turned up into a small smile.

You chuckled.

“Yeah, I finished, thank god. I think I started to lose my mind for a bit there but it’s all done now.”

“Good to hear, is that all your assignments done now?” Haz questioned.

“Got a couple left but they are practically done so I’m not too worried.” You picked up your mug and drained the last few drops of your coffee, ready for the one Tom was getting you.

“Now that you’re finished with uni, does that mean we will be seeing you a lot more, then? You’ll stop being so boring and staying in all the time.” Haz asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Hey, I’m not being boring, I have work to do,” you countered, your mouth hanging open in mock offense.

“So, you say…” he continued to tease.

You picked up a crumpled-up napkin from the table and flung it in his direction, but it never reached him. Instead it fluttered back down to the table, only causing more laughter to erupt from his body.

“Look,” you began, trying to regain some of your composure, “not all of us can rely on our unnecessarily good looks to get us jobs.”

“I don’t do that.”

“Haz, you’re a model, that’s literally your job.” Now you’re the one shaking with laughter.

“Fuck, yeah, you got me there.”

You brought your hand up to your face, covering your mouth, trying to stifle the laughs. Harrison grabbed his drink- not being a fan of coffee he had gone for a coke- and unscrewed the cap, taking a swig. Even with the bottle covering most of his face you could see the pink wash over his cheeks.

A faint shadow casted over Haz, you looked up and saw Tom. He was balancing a tray, laden with food and drink on one hand, whilst trying to shove his wallet into his pocket with the other. The tray wasn’t lying even on his hand and hot liquid trickled down the side of the mugs. You jumped up taking the tray from him and set in down on the table. When you looked back up at him he greeted you with a warm smile, crinkles forming around his eyes.

Tom looked between you and Haz, titling his head slightly.

“I feel like I just missed something,” he said.

“Oh, nothing much, just me being an div,” Haz said.

“Just the usual then, mate,” Tom snickered.

“Exactly.”

Haz jumped up, “here mate, take my seat.” He wriggled past the low table and stood next to Tom.

“Wait, where are you going?” you questioned.

“I’ve got that casting call remember.” Haz whipped his jacket out from the seat just before Tom sat on it. He walked around to where you were gaping at him and planted a gentle kiss to your forehead.

Panic set in, it wasn’t often that you were left alone with Tom, usually you could count on someone else to be a buffer to your anxiety. When you were alone you were worried that he would finally catch on how you feel, there is only so long you can stare at someone without talking before it becomes weird. Having a crush on a friend can be impossible at times. It’s like you forget how to act around them, suddenly everything becomes a what did they mean by that? Are they flirting? No, surely not, but what if they are? What if they think you’re flirting? There is already an established connection there and you don’t want to disturb the equilibrium between you but then everything they do takes your breath away. It feels like too much of a risk.

It wasn’t particularly a problem at the start, you always thought Tom was attractive, but it takes you time to get to know someone. You must know who they are as a person before you start to crush on them. But then you got to know him.

What could you do though? You wanted to be his friend. If nothing else came from it (and you were almost certain nothing would) you still wanted to be his friend.

“What no kiss for me?” Tom teased his friend.

Haz brought his hand to his open mouth, “oh, I’m sorry darling, please forgive me.”

He leaned over and kissed the top of Tom’s curls.

Tom held Haz’s chin, “I can’t stay mad at that face.”

All three of you let out breathy laughs.

“Alright I really gotta go now.”

Haz slung his bag onto his shoulder, “don’t you two kids have too much fun without me. Actually, forget that, it’s impossible to have too much fun without me.”

Tom shoved his friend light-heartedly, “alright, get lost.”

Now the two of you were alone, you took a shaky sip of coffee.

Tom leaned back in his chair, spreading his body fully out, his feet sliding underneath the table. You both settled into silence for a few moments whilst sipping your drinks.

You knew you needed to sort your feelings out. You couldn’t go on like this forever. Maybe you should tell Tom but then what would he think? What would Haz think? You valued them both so much as friends, the thought that that could all be stripped away was scary. And there was the being vulnerable thing, which had never been your forte. Laying yourself bare like that, waiting for someone else’s response sounded terrifying.

That was a problem for another day though, for now it wouldn’t be so bad if you watched the way Tom’s fingers flexed around his mug and the way his tongue glided over his bottom lip after he took a bite of food, right?

“Oh hey, Y/N,” Tom said through a mouth full, “if you’re free tomorrow.”

He swallowed down the sandwich.

“I was wondering if you wanted to come over, we could watch a movie or something, order some food.”

Tom always got distracted when watching films, checking his phone every half an hour, which would usually bother you a lot. But you could never find it in yourself to get mad at him. Besides you liked showing him your favourites and watching his reactions at pivotal moments, when he was watching at least.

“Yeah, sure, sounds fun. That film I was telling you about just came out.”

You waggled your eyebrows at him, sinking into your chair.

“Perfect,” he took a swig of coffee, looking at you over the rim, “it’s a date.”

What? A date? Hahahah, what? He doesn’t mean an actual date. It’s just a figure of speech, yeah just a figure of speech.

“Uhhh.” You tried to scrabble for a semblance of thought.

“Harrison?” you muttered, your brain still processing.

“Huh,” Tom raised an eyebrow.

“I mean Harrison is going to be there too, right?”

“Oh no, Haz is going out tomorrow.”

He noted the dumbfounded look on his face.

“If you don’t want to come then-” he trailed off.

“No, no, I do,” you chimed in. “I do,” you whispered to yourself.

Tom perked up at that, “great, I’ll text you a time later or something.”

“Yeah.”

What is going on? He had never invited you to hang out alone with him before. Best not to panic. Oh who are you kidding, you wouldn’t be able to stop panicking.

This was just two friends hanging out together, right? It had to be.

But then he did call it a date and you had never heard him call a casual hang out a date before.

No, no, no. You’re being silly, reading too much into this, it definitely wasn’t a date. Why would Tom Holland, who could have any girl ask you out on a date? It just wasn’t plausible. No, this wasn’t a date.

Then why did he call it a date. Guess you had a date with Tom Holland tomorrow?

Fuck.

Tagging some mutuals who may be interested below: @tomhollandthirst @uglypastels @spidey-pal @spideyfield @onedustyboi @h-osterfield @starkravingparker @mysteryavengers @aw-hawkeye

209 notes · View notes

katsukikitten · 5 years

Text

Namjoon Part3

Music echos softly off of the studio walls, the same few chords playing over and over and over again until I slam my fists on the board before deleting the song entirely.

"Fuck...." I curse, digging the heels of my palms into my eyes once more. Something I've been finding myself doing often. I dig until fireworks erupt before fading into a dizzying black.

"That's a bad habit you've got Joonie." Her voice feels like ointment on a burn. My body instantly relaxes as I hear her pad towards the chair. Her small hand runs down my hair, brushing the nape of my neck before settling on my shoulder.

I wish her hands would stay tangled in my hair. Her skin and touch are so soothing.

And I'm not the only member of the group who has said so...

"Being up this late and *forcing* a song to happen is bad for your health." Her hand trails again. Up my nape then down my spine.

"I know..." I barely breathe. Afraid I'll break the spell and she will some how dissipate.

Over the past four months I've noticed things about _____.

Her beauty is unique and becomes even more breathtaking the better you get to know her.

Like a bud slowly blooming before your eyes.

Does she nurture my brothers this well?

This.... intimately?

Jealousy pangs in my stomach at the thought.

"Let's go to bed..." She whispers, "Sleep will help and you have such a busy AND early schedule tomorrow."

I look to her, searching her face for what I don't know. All I know is that somehow she is never tired and she is always patient.

She offers a small smile before patting my shoulder as if to encourage me to stand.

So I do.

She leads me to my room where she has made my bed so neatly. She enters my room and every time it causes my heart to pound. I always hope she stays but instead she falls into her normal routine.

She slips into the shared bathroom turning on the shower and some how getting the perfect temperature for me every time. She lays a fresh towel and pair of boxers on the bed for me, straightening them both just so.

I watch those deft hands fluff pillows and worry over the smallest of details before she stops. She meets me at the threshold of the door.

"Rest up Joonie." She winks, stepping gracefully around me when all I want to do is grab her face and crash my lips into her own.

I sigh in frustration as I make my way to the steaming shower.

The sound of her laugh wakes me.

"Yongiii!!! Stooopp." She giggles and my stomach twists. He must be teasing her about her Korean again. She has improved greatly, speaking full sentences without fault or fluster. But there are times in our one on ones that she bites her lip out of frustration before gracefully asking for a break.

I curl deeper begging the gods for a little more of the mindless sleep.

I should not be thinking of this woman as often as I do.

The dorm quiets as she shoos everyone to get ready promising coffee, tea, and morning treats at the shoot.

I drift slowly back into sleep as she helps the others with their outfits. All vying for her attention.

A soft knock pulls me back to the land of the living and I do not answer. I am so childishly hoping that if I act asleep she will leave.

Somehow convince the director that I will be in at a later time or hell even date. We've been going for weeks non stop to shoots, interviews and features that it's a wonder I could even write lyrics for half a song.

When I don't answer I hear her pad into the room. Pulling the curtain to the only window half open, sure to leave my face out of the rising sunlight.

"Namjoon?" She asks softly, hands feathering over my bare shoulder.

I continue to feign sleep. She let's out a sigh, not one of disappointment nor frustration but a different kind of sigh. Her fingers find my dyed hair. Pulling softly before her nails rake my scalp.

I can't keep back the soft groan that escapes my lips causing her fingers to slip away. I keep my eyes closed and resume my relaxed breathing. She must still think I'm asleep as she mutters to herself.

"Damn it ____, get your shit together."

Her hands find my shoulder.

"Oh King Joonie. It's time to wake up!" She sing songs. No longer using a gentle voice. She clicks the side table light on and I groan out of frustration.

"Come on sleepy head!" She says as I hear her digging in my closet, "We cannot be late. It will reflect poorly on my skills."

She giggles pulling a black shirt and jeans setting them at the foot of the bed.

I oblige, anything to keep her here.

An hour later she has us all lined up with our favorite makeup artist before she makes good on her promise of tea, coffee, and morning sweets. We all greedily take our bribe.

"Hobi, my sunshine..." She smiles fussing over his hair, "Dont forget to give it your all! Other wise no Sprite."

She winks before they both laugh.

"My golden maknae!" She smiles, "oh and my oppa please give it your best!"

"My V, My jimin, my suga! You can melt the hearts of all of ARMY." She continues to encourage us as we line up in order for our shoots. Finally she stands before me.

"RM, joonie!" She is so damn cute when she encourages us, "please do it all for ARMY!"

"I will." I smile to her and she returns it with a blinding one. She takes a step back to speak with the make up artists.

She always talks to the supporting crew but what I've failed to notice before were her questions.

She asks about our skin health, our irritability levels and even down to how our hair is. Each stylist makes a comment. She jots it all down in her notebook.

"Exaustion was hard to cover on all of them. Espeically Namjoon today."

"Yoongi's hair is becoming brittle from all of the stripping and dying. The shampoo and conditioners you've gotten him have helped greatly but I fear for the health of his hair."

Her eyes dart up, narrowing before her pencil angirly scratches at the pad.

"Noted. Thank you as always." She says perfectly in Korean. There are some phrases she had down pat before coming to the teachings of seven men. I subconsciously touch the skin beneath my eyes as the words echo in my head. I stare at Yoongi's dyed hair before fingering my own. He has had the most hair changes out of all of us.

The shoot drags on for hours longer than expected. With an intense interview to follow and with no time in between to grab a bite to eat.

Though it goes with out saying that _____ has been providing us snacks and drinks all day. But a man can only live off of snacks for so long. I need to take a break, if only for a moment in the bathroom. Just as I'm rounding the corner I hear two voices in a heated discussion.

"Manager. They are exhausted. The photographer has been outrageous to hold them hostage this long. None of them have had time to recover. The interview needs to be canceled for their health. If you want the nations across this green earth to love them then you need to listen to me." Her voice dips lower than I've ever heard. A few decibels shy of a growl as she continues.

"Speaking of canceled I have canceled Yoongi's hair dye appointment for next week as cleared out most of the boys schedules. This is starting to take a toll on their work. And I don't mean this extra work either. I'm talking their music."

Thankfully she leaves out my name. The thought of people knowing I'm struggling in the studio is as mortifying as if not being able to perform in the bedroom.

"You disrespect me and the people who have highly recommended you?" He snarls and I myself shrink back.

Clearly she does not.

"No, if anything I'm proving why I was so highly recommended. Do you think I let these idols run rampant? Do you think I let them become so overworked, so over stimulated to the point of them having some sort of break down whether public or private while in my care? The answer is no." Its as if I can hear her squaring her shoulders as she speaks, "My job is to take care of their well being. My job is take make sure theirs is not becoming too much. My job is to remember that they are human. My job is to stand up for them when they cannot or are too proud to. So I'm telling you now that they are going to need today and the rest of the weekend off otherwise you are both jeopardizing their health and asking me to step down as their assistant."

My heart beats out of my chest at the thought of her leaving. I almost turn the corner to wrap her under my arm and threaten the manager to keep her on board myself but a deep sigh stops me.

"They were not lying when you said you truly have an idol's best interest at heart." Another sigh, "I will begin making phone calls now. When the shoot let's out please continue to live up to your recommendations."

"As always." She retorts.

#namjoon x y/n #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon #bts namjoon

16 notes · View notes

thewiselosers · 6 years

Text

Gym Class Losers

CHAPTER ONE: It Gets Worse

It was the first day of the party’s second week of high school when things started to turn from bad to worse, and it didn’t even have anything to do with the mindflayer, the upside down, or hawkins lab.

It was high school, and more specifically, the people in it. They’ve always dealt with bullies, but none with so much of a profound effect that arose when cramping hundreds of teenagers from different age groups and social groups into one setting. The boys found faults everywhere, from the gum laiden desks of the classrooms and unkempt bathrooms, to the overcrowded lunch area. But one thing they weren’t anticipating was the struggle of gym class. Their athletic abilities (or lack thereof) aside, they were thrown a huge curveball when they strolled into the boys locker room that first day. It was cramped and smelled of bad body odor. Trash was already littered about, and the casual half-nakedness of the upperclassmen was a hard concept to grasp when they entered the brightly lit room. From all that Steve told Dustin who in turn told the gang, and what Nancy and Jonathan could advise to their younger siblings, locker room etiquette wasn’t a topic that had been brought up in the slightest.

“What the shit.” Dustin simply said when their minds caught up with the scene before them. Most of their other classmates shared the same reservations when in the boys locker room, standing around awkwardly, waiting for some brave soul, anyone, to choose a locker and start changing.

When one did, it encouraged some others to also join in on the too public strip-down from carefully picked outfits (thanks, mom) to the plane t-shirt and shorts provided by the school, its mascot proudly ironed on the chest. Will looked to Mike, who looked at Lucas who looked from Dustin back to Mike, as they all shuffled toward nearby lockers. Mike and Will’s beside each other, and Dustin and Lucas across from them. One boy their age, Chester, had the unfortunate case of wearing ripped underwear, and just as he began to pull up his gym shorts, a group of upperclassmen passed by, shirtless and rowdy, and proceeded to take advantage of the laughable situation.

“Chuckie’s got a little show going for us, huh boys?”

As the smaller boys turned toward the interruption, the head boy proceeded to poke his finger through one of the holes and pull the fabric down, exposing Chesters pale-white butt to half the class.

The two other boys he was with burst into laughter, and around half of the boys in the hall began to join in. Whether genuinely at Chesters expense, or to simply please the older boys, the party wasn’t sure. Chester frantically pulled his shorts up, mortified. The party was less than amused, and proceeded to clutch their gym clothes to their chest, and high tail it to the boys bathroom at the end of the locker room, where nearly a quarter of the other boys in their class were waiting for a chance to use the stall next (and it wasn’t because it was after lunchtime).

That was the routine for the rest of the week. The new class waiting in long lines to change in the stalls, or awkwardly change out it the open, like too easy prey in the daylight.

That first friday Coach Rowlins anounced something that caused stomachs to drop.

No one was to use the bathroom to change unless they had a note from a parent saying they couldn’t do so in the locker room. It was a grateful luxury the party now realized they may have taken for granted.

“Maybe it won’t be that bad.” Mike said to the group, all too sure of himself. Dustin and Lucas resigned themselves.

That weekend Mike spent the night at Wills’ house and the two did homework together. They were lucky to be in the same math class but Will found their teacher, Ms. Barwick, hard to understand. She taught as if everyone already knew what she was saying, like she was telling the class how she solved the problem, but not explaining how she did it. He just felt lost the whole time and it frustrated him because he was supposed to be really good at school. The textbook wasn’t any help either, because he would just end up doodling in it whenever her monotone voice caused his mind to drift. Will thought about going to the counselors office and switching classes, but he and Mike already only had one other class together, English, but Lucas was in that class too. Mike got lucky and had at least one of the party members in each of his classes, and Will didn’t like the idea of sharing their only other class together with Lucas.

Will sat cross-legged with his back against the wooden headboard of his bed.

“Did you finish the bottom half of the page?” Mike was laying on his stomach with his geometry textbook open in front of him and his binder and homework sheet beside it. His ankles were crossed and he was propping himself up on his elbows and chewing on the eraser tip of his pencil.

Will looked down at his own homework sheet, the half he was supposed to do not even close to being finished. He looked down at Mike who was laying at his feet. He realized suddenly that he literally always looked up at Mike. Mike was significantly taller than him and it didn’t help that he was the smallest in their friend group. The only time he looked down at Mike was when they were in his room like they are now. Will sighed. He slammed the textbook shut and put his binder aside.

“Come on Will it’s easy. Come here, which ones eating you?” Mike had sat up and faced Will, taking Will’s binder and looking at the nearly blank sheet of paper. Mike furrowed his brows, ready to give Will a pep talk when he noticed something peeking out of his binder. It was a sheet of paper with writing in Mrs. Byers’ handwriting. He slid it out further and saw that it read ‘Dear Coach Rowlins’.

Mike looked up at Will and Will looked from Mike to his binder, and quickly snatched the binder away from Mikes hand.

“You actually asked your mom to write you a note?” Mike’s words were loud in the previous silence. Will shrugged and tucked the letter carefully back into place. It wasn’t a big deal.

“I have real medical reasons. I can’t- i’m not comfortable and if i don’t have to then i shouldn’t. You’ve seen how the juniors and seniors are.”

Mike shook his head.

“Everyone will know and they’ll make fun of you even worse. At least if you change with everyone else, no one would care as much since we’re all in the same boat.”

“What difference does it make? I’m already zombie boy and…and you know. What’s one more nickname?”

“Trust me, Will. It’ll be easier if we all stick together. Then it won’t be so bad.”

Mike stared intently at him, urging, and Will was defeated.

“Okay. But you’re doing my math homework for the rest of the week.”

“At least watch me so you can see how i do it.”

Will glanced from Mikes careful gaze to his homework page, most of the problems effortlessly solved.

“Deal.”

For the next hour and a half the two boys sat hunched over on Wills bed, Mike like a teacher, explaining each step he made and why he made it. Will felt much better going into math class that monday, but his unease for gym class didn’t go away.

The locker room was cramped more so than ever now that all the boys had to change in there. The party of four made their way to the lockers as they did that first day, only this time they actually began to strip. They looked awkward and felt awkward, wondering just how many eyes were on them. Lucas and Dustin were smart enough to open some of the empty lockers around them to block anyones view. Mike and Will were beside each other, but the lockers around them were occupied. Will looked up at Mike, who gave him a small “don’t think about it smile”. Will unbuttoned his pants, fidgeting with the button, and zipped the zipper down. He shimmied out of his pants. Mike did the same, stepping out of his. They both pulled their gym shorts on and felt a little better. Mike changed his shirt, and Will did the same.

Dustin let out a laugh and gestured his head to Wills shirt. Will looked down at himself and then proceeded to swivel his head around like an owl. He had put his shirt on backwards. Will laughed it off as Mike reached over and pulled out the tag from Wills chest. Will shoved him off and raised his shirt over his head, exposing his stomach, but was cut off by a wolf whistle from not too far away. He quickly pulled his shirt back over himself and turned toward the source of the intrusion.

“Look what we have here. A school of guppies swimming in the big pond.”

It was Tommy and his couple of goons. The prime predators of the boys locker room. Tommy was a junior now, a little taller, more muscular and handsome as ever. Like the devil. No one at Hawkins high would say he was the friendliest person in the town, but sometime during the summer before the party entered high school, Tommy had become meaner than ever before. Where in the past he would just stir up trouble, now he actively sought it out.

“Actually guppies don’t swim in schools, fish do.”

Lucas smacked Dustin on the shoulder, and he threw his hands up defensively with a regretful look of “i couldn’t help it”.

“What was that?” They had Tommy’s full attention now. Dustin didn’t respond as the normally loud commotion of the locker room began to die down, anticipating the attack that was surely to come. Tommy looked back at the group of four boys, sizing them up with glee.

“Sinclair, didn’t the school give you a separate room for you to change in?” He asked as if it were a genuine question, and turned to his two friends, who gave comical 'gee i don’t know’ expressions.

Tommy gave a cursory glance toward Will, then looked blankly forward. He loudly exclaimed-

“This boys head’s on backwards! They don’t call him Zombie Boy for nothing now do they? Oh wait! My mistake. He just doesn’t have mommy here to dress him right.”

Laughter broke out as everyone turned to Will, who still hadn’t fixed his shirt.

“You better take that back Tommy.” Mike glared with all the bravery his lanky 5'7" frame could give him.

“Yeah and we’re not guppies. Were ninth graders now which means-”

Tommy cut Dustin off with a harsh Slam! Of metal from one of the locker doors he so smartly left open. The air was palpable.

Tommy breezed forward, his voice like gravel. He was just talking to them. No show for everyone else to hear.

“I’ve got another two years with you dweebs. It’s in your best interest to stay out of my way.”

Dustin was grabbed by the shirt, but instead of Tommy yanking him towards forward like he thought the older boy would, he simply leaned in close and whispered in his ear. “Make a fool of me again. And i’ll be sure to give you your old smile back.”

Tommy let go and stepped back, amused with himself.

“And you. Little Frankenstein.”

Tommys eyes were on Will, a malicious smile on his face.

“I suggest you let coach Rowlins know you’ll be changing in the bathroom from now on. On account of all your medical reasons. You don’t want to infect all of us in here now do you Byers?”

Will looked around nervously but saw no one; all too conscious of the ears that might have heard the older boy.

“Do you?” Tommy’s voice was firmer now. He wanted an answer. Will looked up at him and shook his head.

“Right. Well boys you better get on out there. Physical Ed is important for your growing bodies.” Tommy walked away with his two shadows in tow.

Lockers slammed shut and the atmosphere became polarizing as boys rushed out of the room to continue with their day.

Will stood rigid, and Dustin and Lucas looked drained of all enthusiasm.

“You were right Mike. It wasn’t so bad, it was worse.”

Will gave Mike one last defeated look before heading out the locker room, not even bothering to check if his friends were following him. Mike watched Will leave, a sad confusion eating at him.

#byler #mike wheeler #will byers #gym class losers chapter one #gym class losers

20 notes · View notes

nahmooste · 7 years

Text

I Want To Let You Down

pairing: Tetsuya Naito/Female OC warnings: as usual there’s physical altercations, swearing, and my favourite thing in the world; tension. there’s also a second part coming w/ smut. a/n: i’ve been struggling to write this one for about a week now? but i finally like the finished product with the help of this song (definitely where the title came from). this is also the same FOC from this request, bc you know i can’t leave my boy Naito hanging like that. tags: @wrestlingismyfavourite @devittsbalor @fireangel1978 @laziestgirlintheworld (let me know if you want to be tagged!)

All things considering, Sam isn’t surprised that things have turned out the way they have. She’s pushed and pushed and pushed and then he shoved back and now— now she’s here, and he’s there, and there’s nothing she can do about it. Nothing, because he’s always been a pushover when it’s come to her and she’s always been too much for the both of them.

Fuck, she’s even accused him of cheating. She knows that he would never, and yet she still lets it sit between them like it’s some kind of weapon.

Maybe it’s what she gets for being so Goddamn overbearing. The constant texts, the constant phone calls, fuck, the more she thinks about it, the more she deserves to be on the receiving end of a restraining order.

So, she turns away from it all. Every time she thinks of texting him, she snaps a rubber band down on the underside of her wrist and holds her breath for as long as she can. Every time she feels like calling him, she picks up her phone and throws it across the room. It’s like she’s going through some kind of withdrawal, the thoughts shaking her brain, the impulse leaving her on the ground heaving. She’s been through worse, but… never alone. ~

Naito knows that he gets under her skin. She’s rejected him time and time again and he makes her uncomfortable, and of this he is accurately aware of. But he likes the chase, the exhilaration of a slap, the curve of his mouth as she moves away from him even when there’s no space. He knows that Seiya is in love with her, and Seiya knows that Naito craves, just once, to fuck her. Seiya will punch him square in the mouth if he kisses her— and so that makes him want it even more.

She’s small, top of her head barely brushing his shoulder when she stands next to him, and he wants to bury his face between the chest she endeavours to keep clothed around him.

And, he’ll admit; he’s given the thought no rest since the split happened.

So he turns up to meetings on time with a spring in his step, does what he’s told in hopes that he might catch just a brief moment with the evasive woman. He knows where her office is but doesn’t want to go out of his way. Instead, with all the promotional meetings and media drives, he knows there’ll be some overlap.

He’s right.

The day before the G1 starts, Sam is helping organise some logistics between New Japan and an international journalism company. She’s dressed in a silk blouse, bow tie up by her throat, and a slim skirt that stops just under her knees. Heels that boost her height considerably.

The blood rushes straight to his penis as he imagines those heels up by her ears.

Someone gently pushes him in the direction of his chair and he smirks when he realises he’s been staring for too long, but it doesn’t even matter anymore. He’s not taking no for an answer tonight. He’ll change her mind, of this he’s sure. He’s too ready for it now to be pushed away again.

Naito eyes her the entire event, smirks in her direction when she finally meets his eyes, and he catches the way a blush tints her cheeks. He also notices the way Seiya pointedly avoids both their eyes, almost like he’s afraid to confront what’s happening between them, almost like if he sees it, he’ll snap Naito in half, leader or not. He’s aware the only thing Seiya wants is Sam by his side once more. He neglects to mention to anyone that he slipped the red lingerie into their bed only to have this exact opportunity, though he suspects that Seiya already knows this.

Someone calls his name and Naito asks them to repeat the question, grins a little at his own recklessness— he’s usually in a world of his own during conferences like these, either trying to sleep or pretending like he is, but this is for a different reason entirely. ~

The conference ends as the sun starts to set. She stays behind to help pack up because she knows the last thing she needs her boss to see is her skipping out on duties; she doesn’t need the questions that follow. Instead, she plays it out and converses with the other journalists, stumbling between Japanese and English as they laugh about mistranslations.

She wraps her fingers around some lighting cords and a technician points her in the direction of a room that’s pitch black, tells her that she can lock the door on the way out.

There’s a bunch of boxes with cables and fixtures, a table along the far wall, and in one of the corners is a bunch of standing lights. She assumes that she’s the only one in the room, but when she turns around, she’s met with Naito’s shadowy silhouette. His arms are crossed, that much she can see, and the way the shadows dance off his face has the hairs on the back of her neck standing.

Colour immediately settles on her cheeks. “Can I help you?” she asks, trying to play off her caution as contempt.

“Samantha… what are you so afraid of?” He questions. She can hear the smirk on his mouth.

She swallows around the anxiety starting to build in the back of her throat. Realising very quickly that she’s alone here, and that no one will come looking for her, she acknowledges to herself that yes, she’s afraid of him, and she always has been. Having Seiya by her side for just the smallest amount of time had given her comfort in knowing that Tetsuya Naito wouldn’t do a thing. But Seiya isn’t here now, and Naito is, and they’re in a room alone, and this is not somewhere she feels comfortable.

Naito steps forward when his question goes unanswered, fingers switching the lights in the room on. “Maybe you’re afraid of how he’ll react when he finds out about this… he knows how I am, but does he know that you’re not as innocent as you like to believe?”

She swallows whatever dignity she has left in her body— he’s right. And he knows it too, because he smirks at her silence and pulls the door behind him shut. She knows that she can leave, knows that he doesn’t hold a magic key that locks it, but… she lets herself believe that he’s cut off any chance of her escape, because then it makes it easier for her to accept what’s about to happen. Like it hasn’t been something sitting under the surface waiting to be scratched.

Deep down, she knows what he craves— and even further down… she knows she wants to give it to him.

Sam swallows heavily again. “Seiya… he’ll…”

Naito dips his head at her and takes a step forward, and then another one. “He knows that I refrained myself until you two were not together.”

Her blush turns darker. “This is where you work… it’s a public space…”

“Are you afraid of getting caught?” he muses, and Sam stiffens as the space between them becomes non-existent. His thumb presses under her chin until she’s looking him in the eye. “Or are you afraid that you’ll like what I’m about to do to you?”

Sam gapes at him, but doesn’t speak— she knows the answer to that even if it’s unspoken. So does Naito.

He slams his mouth to hers with such force that she takes a step back in shock, and he follows her, pushes them until her ass hits the table, but his kiss is unrelenting. His tongue forces its way past her lips and his hand squeezes her jaw to keep her mouth open. Sam moans at his intensity, tries to push him away only to have his free hand rip one of her arms away. A cry falls from her throat and then she’s gasping for air as Naito grabs her throat, shoving her up onto the table and against the wall behind them.

There’s too much of him at once and then nothing of him at all.

Sam stares at the man in front of her with wide eyes. She’s barely pulling air into her lungs and yet he looks calm as anything. He slips off his suit jacket, sets it down on the table next to her, then starts on his cuff buttons. His eyes never leave hers. His movements never halt or slow. “Take off your shirt,” he commands, “and your skirt, too.”

She can’t believe his audacity.

She pushes herself forward off the table to slap him so hard his head snaps to the side. Shaking in rage and lust, Sam stills as Naito turns back to stare at her with the kind of smirk that makes her thighs clench, and she inhales a shaky breath. “I’m not so easy that you can have me when you want.”

“Oh, but you are, aren’t you?”

She slaps him again.

He laughs at her, the sound starting from deep in his throat. “I’ll tell you a secret, Samantha,” he murmurs, “do you know that I couldn’t wait? That I didn’t want to wait? Seiya doesn’t know how those panties ended up in your bed, but I do…”

Nausea settles itself in her stomach. She stares at Naito in a mixture of horror and anger as his words register, and the latter slowly manifests itself in her veins and turns her vision red. This was planned. All of it was planned.

“He’s telling you the truth when he says he didn’t cheat on you. I... I can’t remember her name, but she didn’t seem to mind that the bed was not mine. And the best part of it all,” he continues, like he doesn’t realise the kind of fire he’s lit, “is that everyone gets what they want. I get you, you get to run and crawl back to Seiya after I’m finished, and he gets back the love of his life. Poetic, isn’t it? Organised chaos… I’d apologise, really, but I’m not sorry.”

She slaps him. And then again and then again until his hands take her wrists, and then she spits in his face. His eyes find the ground for a long moment before they return to hers, void of emotion.

She speaks like she isn’t crying. “You’re a fucking pathetic, worthless piece of shit, you know that, right? I fucking hope he clocks you so good that your fucking teeth fly into the back of your throat, I fucking hope you rot in hell!” She only realises that she’s using English when she finishes, and then she swears at him in Japanese. “Shi’ne.”

He raises an eyebrow. The humour falls from his face and instead silence surrounds them, and then Sam realises very quickly what kind of situation she’s in. No one knows where she is. No one will come looking for her. She’s in a room alone with Tetsuya Naito, whose hands are tight around her wrists, and there’s a slow anger twisting in his eyes as he stares at her.

“Shi’ne?” He repeats slowly. He drops her hands like they’re made of acid. “Leave then. Go. If you don’t want this and you don’t want to be here, go.”

Sam shoves past him and stalks towards the exit, intending to rip the door open and leave him standing in her wake. But as her hand hovers over the handle, she hesitates. And she hates herself because suddenly she’s not so sure that she wants to leave.

There’s a sound of movement behind her, and Samantha takes a deep breath. What does she want?

#CLIFF HANGERS #i love them #tetsuya naito fanfiction #tetsuya naito #njpw fanfiction #naito #current writing #i know i said i wouldn't be able to write for a while but like #inspiration struck

27 notes · View notes

cookinguptales · 7 years

Text

So I ended up being so bummed out about the shorts that I neglected to do a write-up for The Lego Batman Movie, which I saw the same day. But TLBM came up like 5 times on my dash today bc bigoted critics are lambasting it for being “pro-gay” so I thought it’d be a good time to talk about how much I enjoyed it! I don’t think I liked it quite as much as the original Lego Movie, but it wasn’t really trying to be the same kind of movie as TLM. It wasn’t quite aiming for that meta angle, and I don’t think it necessarily needed to. It was just a super fun movie -- and one that was really gratifying in some ways to someone who got really burned out on the comics.

Full review and slight spoilers below the cut.

So the basic plot of the movie is what you’d gather from the trailers: Batman (aka Bruce Wayne) is a weird reclusive loner who lives in his giant mansion/bat cave with no one but the butler who raised him, and he has to learn to stop doing shit himself and being such a goddamn asshole. It was kind of nice because he was constantly called out on the stuff that he’s gotten away with doing in a lot of Bat media. Barbara Gordon talking about how he never created lasting institutional/structural solutions to problems, but instead fed his ego by punching poor people felt really good haha. (More on Babs later.) It’s your basic “dickhead has to learn how to use social skills” film, but with a lot of humor and heart that prevents it from getting sappy. And Batman seriously never gets away with his bullshit. He is constantly called on the way he hurts people, and instead of the somewhat shallow lip service that has always been paid to his antihero status, I felt like this film really interacted with those ideas on a hopeful and emotional level. He wasn’t treated like a villain because he was ~dark and brooding~. He was treated like a villain because he went off half-cocked because of his own issues, and because he didn’t care who he hurt in the process. It wasn’t just a story about Batman learning to make friends -- it’s a story about Batman learning to set aside his own ego so he can work together with public officials to create long-term stability and safety for the town he purports to care about. It’s a movie that calls for kindness, compassion, and accountability in crime-fighting -- and in a world torn with debates about increased militarization and police brutality, that’s a conversation that’s pretty damn important.

The audience is there for a comedy, though, and the movie is hilarious. I was cracking up before the movie even technically started, because Batman’s narration and criticism of all the production logos was great. And I basically kept laughing the entire time. The movie pokes loving fun at pretty much every kind of Batman media that exists, from the biggest blockbuster movie to the smallest limited run mini, and there are tons of sly little jokes that will make a comics fan laugh. (No spoilers, but one of the more overt and more hilarious comics jokes was basically the entire Nightwing segment. It is not to be missed.) The characters are all incredibly endearing, especially a shockingly adorable Robin, and I genuinely enjoyed watching them go on their batshit adventures. I won’t give away where the plot goes, but I will say that things just kept escalating until I was impressed (and cracking up) at how bizarre things got. Just really, thoroughly enjoyable. The slapstick humor and mile-a-minute jokes could have gotten old very quickly, but the warmth and heart really helped pull things together.

The interpretations of the characters were all pretty interesting. Robin’s childlike wonder and naivete was really emphasized, whereas Alfred’s RAF background came quickly to the fore. Barbara Gordon was perhaps the most interesting interpretation of them all. As a disabled ex-comics fan, I’ve always had pretty complicated feelings about Barbara and I was nervous going into this. I will say right now that as far as I could tell, there were no real allusions made to Oracle in this film. I am bummed about that. Babs made the transition to Oracle before I was even born, and her journey has been important to me. (But I guess that’s a rant for another day.) But the Barbara that was introduced in TLBM wasn’t really Batgirl, either, despite allusions being made to the moniker. She’s the new commissioner of Gotham City, and she’s strong, fierce, intelligent, and committed to making structural changes to Gotham’s criminal justice system in order to create a safer environment for both Gotham’s innocent citizens and its seedier ones. She refuses to just delegate her duties to Batman, and she believes that things can be so much better than they have been -- and she’ll work hard to accomplish that. Perhaps most striking of all, despite Batman’s obvious infatuation with her, she does not reciprocate his advances. She wants to be his ally and his friend, but she is her own woman. (”If you call me Batgirl, does that mean I can call you Batboy?”) She’s not the protagonist of this film (and after three lego franchise films, they really are due for a female protagonist) but she’s also no sidekick. She advocates for responsibility, but she’s not the ~boring nag~ that female characters are often reduced to. She’s the voice of hope and reason in a culture of toxic masculinity, and Batman has to realize that her ideas are just as important, if not more, than his. She wasn’t Oracle, but I found that I still ended up really loving this version of Barbara.

Finally, all that gay shit! As I said, Batman has an obvious crush on Barbara. But he definitely has an overtly homoerotic relationship with the Joker, too. Their foemance is constantly put in terms of a relationship, with the main thrust of the plot being inspired by the Joker wanting Batman to pay more attention to him and treasure him as his most important adversary -- frankly, the Joker wants to be Batman’s most important person. I was tickled to find after I got home that I was not the only person that half-expected a kiss in one of their final tension-laden scenes. If Batman had to grow to appreciate his family (re: Robin and Alfred) and his political allies (re: Barbara), he also had to grow to appreciate the Joker, and perhaps in a more heated and intimate way than any of the others. It really is a story about their relationship, strange as that sounds. It’s not a canon gay pairing. Batman has a thing for Barbara, and the Joker and Harley are a (remarkably healthy and cute) item. But damn if it’s not basically rolling around in all that subtext. It’s the kind of film a fanficcer would have a field day with, frankly. There’s a lot of room for exploration. (Basically, if you like Kate Beaton’s Nemesis comics, you’ll like the Batman/Joker relationship in this film.)

Hilariously, the other potential pairing in this film is Bruce Wayne/Batman. It’s never directly stated, but I’m pretty sure Robin thought they were a thing for much of the movie. He definitely thought he was being co-parented by the two of them. And he was psyched! Robin loved having two dads! He went from having no dads to two dads! (“It’s raining dads!”) Like there is zero judgment from anyone about the concept of Robin having two adoptive fathers, even though it was never explicitly stated that people thought his two fathers were dating. (Related -- I kind of want to write fic about the Bruce/Batman that people lowkey thought was going on.) Like both of his dads were shitty, but that was clearly portrayed as a Batman thing, not a gay parenting thing. The film actually had strong messages about the importance of adoption, both by exploring Batman’s relationship with his new son and by exploring Alfred’s relationship with Batman.

tl;dr, the fundies aren’t crazy. The movie is definitely homoerotic and pro-gay parenting. AND I LOVED THAT.

Anyway, overall I really enjoyed the movie. It wasn’t the deepest film in the world, but it was really, really fun. I liked the plot and the characters and the jokes were great. There’s a lot there for both the passing fan of Batman and the superfans who’ve read comics for years. And frankly, it’s the kind of modern film that the franchise has needed for a while. It dissects some of the messages that have been put forth in many of the movies and comics that have starred Batman (and that have made him popular amongst angry wannabe grimdark vigilante dudes for decades) and shows why they’re actually quite dangerous on both a personal and societal level. Really good film.

#the lego batman movie #lego batman movie #reviews

15 notes · View notes