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retromoments · 1 year

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but you tolerate it,

featuring sakusa kiyoomi

warnings angst w/ happy ending, just general negative self talk, mention of cigarettes

tonight had been a disaster.

You and Kiyoomi had been dating for a year at this point after meeting after you were introduced as the new publicist for the Black Jackals. The two of you hit it off instantly after realizing that civilized company within the team was lacking and found solace in each other and quickly developed a romantic relationship soon after.

It was only after your one-year anniversary that you realized that you barely knew any of Kiyoomis's friends other than his teammates, this eventually lead you to tonight. After pestering your boyfriend about it for weeks, he finally caved and arranged a dinner for you to meet all of his old school friends. You were only 20 minutes into the dinner before you realized how great of a mistake you had made.

Conversation topics that went completely over your head seemed to be in favor of the night. The worst part was that you had never seen Kiyoomi so happy in a social situation. It quickly led to a festering insecurity that was making itself comfortable in the low pit of your stomach. As the night progressed things just seemed to get worse and worse as your boyfriend slowly pulled away from you the whole night.

The jokes you made didn’t land. The wine you had picked out for the occasion had been ridiculed ruthlessly by these strangers that had played such an important role in your boyfriend's life. The white knit sweater and brown corduroy pants you had picked out were quickly making you feel more and more underdressed as Kiyoomi introduced you to more and more of his friends, all of which were dressed as if they were attending a 5-star restaurant.

What started as him just shaking off your hand when you attempted to grab it at the dinner table had now matured into him sitting on the complete opposite side of the room as you. The final straw was when one of Kiyoomis friends, a girl named Mika, noticed the bright piece of art hung above the tv in the living room. It was one of the first things you and Kiyoomi had picked out for the apartment.

“Kiyoomi don’t tell me that you picked that atrocious thing out?” Mika remarked as she pointed a manicured nail at the painting full of bright blues and pinks

“No, no that one was all her,” Kiyoomi muttered as he took a sip from his glass of wine

“I can tell.” Mika giggled, and to your dismay, Kiyoomi began chuckling right alone with her.

After muttering a quick excuse about needing some fresh air (you aren’t quite sure anyone even heard it), you grabbed the carton of cigarettes you kept “only for emergencies” and bolted for the balcony of you and Kiyoomis's shared apartment which is where you’ve been camped out for the last half hour blowing smoke out into the dark abyss that surrounded your home as you waited for the tears to stop streaming down your face.

This whole night had just caused you to reflect on your relationship with Kiyoomi and just wonder if he was truly happy. Did he feel as if you were simply too immature for him? Was he unhappy being with someone who didn’t come from as much money as he did? Are you good enough for him? These questions lingered in your head and plagued your thoughts the longer you sat in the silence of the night. Your worsening thoughts were interrupted by the balcony door sliding open.

“Mind if I join you?” You quickly used the sleeve of your sweater to brush away your stray tears as Kiyoomi made his way onto the balcony.

A smile was lingering on his face, an expression that you had only been privileged enough to see a few times throughout your relationship. You took a long drag from your cigarette as he made himself comfy on the spot right next to you.

“why’d you leave?”

“didn’t seem like anyone wanted me there.” you shrugged at your boyfriend as you stood and blew more smoke off the balcony.

“i want you there.” with this you turned and looked at your boyfriend

“do you actually? cause you have a hell of a way showing it,” you stubbed out your cigarette on the wood of the balcony railing “you’ve barely talked to me all night, and all you guys talk about is stuff I don’t know the first thing about,” more tears began to fall as you continued “all tonight has made me think is that I’m obviously not good enough for you, and every single person in that apartment knows it including you.”

“I’ve never once believed that for a second, my love,” Kiyoomi was standing now and wiping the tears from your face “I never wanted you to feel like that, and I’m sorry I’ve upset you so much”

“I don’t know how to relate to people like them, I feel so silly when I try,” you confessed

“Want me to kick them all out so we can have a movie night?” The offer was tempting but you shook your head at it

“These are your friends Kiyo, It’s not your fault I don’t know how to be civilized.” the humor in your voice was dry

“They were my friends,” he agrees “but honestly I haven’t talked to them in months, and if it weren’t for you wanting to meet them so badly I probably would go several more before I even reached out,” He takes a moment to tuck a stray piece of your hair behind your ears “Simply put they aren’t apart of my life anymore, and I hardly think that’s a bad thing.”

“But they make you so happy Kiyo, I’ve never seen you so engaged in conversations.”

“Remembering High School memories will make anyone happy, but trust me the conversation gets boring after you run out of memories to romanticize, which is why I had to come searching for my favorite girl to come save me from them.” A smile graced Kiyoomis face once again, not the one that he had been wearing all night, or the one that reporters love getting photos of after he wins a game. A smile reserved just for you, for the nights where you two shove all the furniture into a corner so you can dance around the living room, for the lunch date that had ended in him asking you to live with him, for the day down the road where he gets down on one knee and asks you to marry him.

So you brave the storm. You take Kiyoomis's hand and let him guide you back into the apartment. You get through the night with Kiyoomis's arm around your shoulder, reminding you that even if he may have more history with the people surrounding him, you are the one he wants to spend his future with. With the night coming to a close and the last guest out the front door, an invisible weight has been lifted off your shoulders. You and Kiyoomi finish the dishes quickly and plop down on the sofa.

“Do you seriously not like the painting?” You murmur, exhaustion weighing on you heavily

“I think it’s a crime against humanity but you lit up so much when you first saw it,” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head “It’s my favorite thing in this entire apartment.”

#haikyuu x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #sakusa x you #haikyuu kiyoomi #kiyoomi x reader #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #hq x reader #kiyoomi imagines #haikyuu angst #angst #kiyoomi headcanons #light angst

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stevelieber · 11 months

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Thoughts on giving critiques to comics artists.

Seeing lots of discussion from students about sour experiences with an unhelpful art teacher, so here's a long, long post about giving critiques.

NB: I have no formal training as a teacher, but I was a student, and I've spent decades giving artists feedback on their work.

When someone brings me a portfolio, I like to establish my limitations & clarify my perspective. My work is firmly rooted in traditional US comics storytelling (i.e., not manga or art-comics.) I can give feedback on other approaches but they should know where I’m coming from.

“We've only got a little time for this, so I'm going to spend that time focusing on things to correct. That doesn't mean you're doing everything wrong, or that there’s nothing good here, but it’ll be more helpful if I identify some problems and show you how to fix them.”

Why? Because for many young artists their entire sense of self worth is wrapped up in being good at what they do. (It was for me!) In school they were probably the best artist in their peer group. But now if they're hoping to turn pro, they’re at the bottom.

Sometimes you know what’s up when you see page 1, but try to keep an open mind. Some build their portfolios by sticking new pages at the back & don’t weed out the old stuff up front, so the work gets better as you go. When it’s like that I ask: “Show me your best 8 pages.”

I ask questions: "What's the goal? Do you want to be hired to work on someone else's project, or to get the story you're showing me here published?"

If 1, I steer towards a portfolio that'll showcase hirable skills. If 2, I look for what tweaks will make that particular story more effective.

"Do you have teachers giving you regular feedback? What are they telling you?" Sometimes a student is getting bad advice. In cases like that, I'll do my best to be extra clear WHY I'm giving them advice that's 180 degrees from what they've been hearing.

“What artists are you looking at? Is there someone you admire or try to emulate?” This often helps me understand choices they're making, and I can sometimes incorporate things those artists do into my suggestions.

I ask myself questions about what I’m seeing. First: Is there a narrative? If not, I make it 100% clear I'm not speaking as any sort of expert. I'm good at critiquing storytelling, but don't have anywhere near as much to offer illustrators or designers.

Can I follow the story? Or am I confused about what's going on? Are the characters and settings drawn consistently? If not, is the artist at least making use of tags (distinctive clothing, hair etc.) to keep the characters recognizable?

Does the artist demonstrate a good command of basic academic drawing? If not, Do I think they need it? Do I focus on "how to draw" or on "what to do when you can't draw?" Is the artist putting the viewer’s eye where it needs to be to tell the story effectively?

(At this point I’m usually doing little doodles to go with my instructions. I scribble out ugly little 5 second diagrams that I hope will clarify what I’m talking about. Or they might make me seem demented. Hard to say!)

Is the artist making choices that are creating more work than necessary? Is there a particular weakness? I once spoke to an artist with a portfolio full of great work when he was drawing animals and monsters, but his humans were amateurish in comparison. I spent that critique talking about drawing people.

A crit can be a grab bag. In addition to big-picture advice, I'll point out tangencies, violations of the 180-degree rule, wonky anatomy, weird perspective, places where the artist neglected to do important research, odd choices in how they spotted black, whatever catches my eye.

I also try to make a point of defining the terms, so that jargon like “tangency,” “180-degree rule,” and “spotting black” don't go over their heads. Find simple, concrete ways to talk about these things, & clarify why it's a problem when they aren't done correctly. Draw diagrams!

Recognize that even a perfectly phrased explanation might not sink in. Some lessons can only be learned when a student is ready, and it might take a year or two of work before they can understand what you were saying. It's good to plant seeds.

Are there other artists who are particularly good at solving the problems the student is trying to solve? I steer them towards that artist's work. And I always recommend life drawing & the use of reference to give work variety and authority.

Despite what I said earlier about focusing on what's wrong, I try at the end to find something encouraging to say. And if I’ve really piled on the criticism, I emphasize that I only spent the time and energy to do so because I take their efforts seriously.

If I've done my job right, they'll leave my table with tools to make their work better. And maybe in a few years they'll be looking at some younger artist's work, surprised to discover just how much you can learn when you're asked to teach.

#comics #protips #my work #comic book art #essays #teaching

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brabblesblog · 2 days

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𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖞𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘.

Ch 13: …because I am my husband's life as fully as he is mine.

A sequel to Whither is thy beloved gone? (AO3)

After the events of ‘Whither is thy beloved gone?’ Lord Astarion Ancuńin and his consort wife navigate their relationship anew. The ghosts of the past - his, hers, and theirs - threaten to unravel everything they’ve worked for.

The special day arrives.

Professionally edited by @editing-by-night

Read on AO3.

Masterlist

Art by @lirotation

Ban stared at the gowns laid before her. There were three, in contrast to Astarion’s four suits. He’d hired several painters to sketch out portraits, some in the days before the event and some on the day itself. Today.

The maid braiding her hair tugged at a strand a little too tightly, but she barely noticed. On the opposite end of the room, Gale entered.

”Ah. Ban.” He nodded. “Just picking up the suits.” He reached for them, hanging from a coatstand near the doorway, but had to pause to shove away the silver-curl-topped head that threatened to poke through the door. “No peeking, Astarion! Don’t make me put up wards!”

Ban stifled a laugh as she heard a low growl, a chuckle, and then the sound of steps stalking away.

”He’s impatient,” Gale grinned, finally gathering all four ensembles in his arms. “But you already knew that.”

”You’d think he wouldn’t be, considering we’ve seen each other in these outfits before.” She remembered posing for portraits, having to hold poses stiffly - not a new occurrence, but they’d worn these outfits for them. It had felt… odd, seeing herself in wedding finery, white silks and embroidered fabrics. She was more comfortable with wearing more extravagant clothing now, but some of these outfits were well beyond what she was accustomed to. She’d imagined marrying someone, of course, but she’d figured it would be one of her father’s arranged events - a son of some fellow merchant or someone of import. Never had she considered it would be someone she’d actually love.

Not until the nautiloid, she supposed. She brought the old fantasy to mind.

Astarion in a crisp white suit, the color matching his hair. He’d smile at her, waiting for her as she walked down the aisle. The sun would shine on both of them somehow, but the tadpole would be gone - how this would be possible, she’d never thought to consider. He’d beam, his fangs making an appearance as she approached, and he’d offer her his hand, which she would take. She would be the happiest woman in Faerûn.

Another tug on her hair, and Ban sighed, opening her eyes. Their wedding would be at sunset, which meant a whole day of not seeing each other. The last time they hadn’t been glued to each other’s side was - she brushed the thought away.

Irrelevant. It will never happen again.

She instead allowed her eyes to gaze into the mirror, watching herself. She was still in her silken robe, a rich royal purple, but her eyes were locked onto her own. Still black, miraculously. Still her. She absently opened her mouth, a finger pulling her lip up to see her fangs for the first time. They weren’t anything impressive, and she sighed, letting go of her lip.

The maid doing her braids looked at her in the mirror. “You are still lovely, madam. Even if you are…” she trailed off.

Ban chuckled nervously. “I never was. But thank you.”

“That most certainly isn’t what our lord thinks,” the maid said amusedly. She resumed her work and left Ban to ponder her words.

Gale walked in to find Astarion preening in front of a mirror, styling his hair. He wordlessly hung the suits one by one. The to-be-groom seemed perfectly level, fingers carefully raking through and arranging the silver curls into their usual perfectly-coiffed style, but Gale could see the slight tremor in his hand.

“How is she doing?” His eyes remained fixed on his reflection, his voice calm with only the faintest tremble. “I need to remind her to clasp the back of her cape properly, else the whole thing hangs off-center. There are six buttons she has to do; three on each side. One of them is rather tricky - the holes are hidden in-”

“She is perfectly fine. Her maids will attend to her clothes. There’s no need to be concerned about a malfunction.” Gale waved him off dismissively, and Astarion sighed.

“Fine. Do you have the rings, at least?”

Gale patted his pocket. “Of course.”

“Be a dear and don’t lose them.”

Gale noted the irritability, but the nervousness behind Astarion’s tone was obvious. “I’ll try not to. If I do misplace them, however, don’t drink me dry, please?”

At Astarion’s irritated huff, Gale laughed and left him with a final quip of, “Don’t fiddle with your hair too much, Astarion, she may change her mind if she sees you with frizz. Positively hideous.”

They were both laughing as Gale exited, closing the door behind him.

They met in the gardens.

She walked down the small steps to see a figure in white, hair shining in the dying light of the sun. He was fidgeting with the buttons on his cuffs, huffing as he struggled to fit the buttons into the holes.

He was turned away from her, and did not notice her approach.

“Astarion?”

Her voice startled him, and he turned to face her. He swallowed anxiously, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

”Ban. Do you mind-” He held his sleeve up.

She approached him, taking his hand carefully and began to fit the buttons through. As she did she eyed him, meeting his gaze. He offered her a quick smile.

”Thank you.” He drew her close, hands settling around her waist to tug her to him. “I missed you.”

”It’s been…” she frowned, “less than eight hours since we last saw one another.”

”Doesn’t mean I can’t pine for my wife, does it?” He buried his face in the crook of her neck and exhaled, a long, drawn-out release of air that told her all she needed to know. “Even a minute of your absence is excruciating.”

She placed her hands on his back, rubbing gently. “You weren’t missing me. You’re nervous.” He raised his head, eyes narrowed. “Which is perfectly fine,” Ban added quickly before he could get a word in edgewise.

His brows smoothed out and he acknowledged her words with a stiff nod. “That does not mean both could not be true.”

”I guess you’re right.” She gently placed a hand on his cheek, watching the tension melt from his features as he leaned into the touch. “Any second thoughts? You still have time to say no, you know.”

“Of course not.” He scoffed, eyebrows knitting back together. “I disappear for a few hours, and you fill your head with the silliest of notions. Which of us can’t manage mere hours without the other, hm?”

”It was a joke.” She pecked his cheek.

His shoulders sagged and his features softened. “I am aware. It’s simply… difficult, comprehending being…” he threw both hands up, gesturing at them and the garden around them, “here. I never allowed myself the luxury of thinking of having a future at all - let alone this one.”

“Even during our adventuring days?”

Astarion pursed his lips, pensive. “At the start I assumed we would all part ways, or die.”

“Astarion,” Ban frowned, “we were seeing each other!”

“And I thought I was using you,” he answered without hesitating. “Later on there was the threat of Cazador and the Absolute, not to mention the rite itself. I did not have room to consider what life would be past those events.” He frowned and his eyes flicked away. “We’re both painfully aware of what happened after that, of course.”

“My love,” she murmured, the sobriquet slipping from her lips; she realized she never really used them, almost never outside sex. His eyes met hers, widening in surprise and then joy, and quietly chastised herself for not using them more. “I know. We both know. We’re also past that.”

He exhaled. “I am aware.” She could tell he was still tense, whether it be because of the mention of those six months, or the wedding itself. She placed a hand over his breast, felt the hammering there, and sighed.

Leaning forward, and on tiptoes, she kissed his cheek. “Look at me?”

He did so, a chagrined smile on his face. He dipped his head. “Just… nervous.”

“It’ll be fine. Nothing will change. It’s just a ceremony, a soiree, like any other, and that’s all it is. Paperwork. It doesn’t have to matter if you don’t want it to. If that helps calm your nerves.”

Astarion scanned her face, then shook his head. “I appreciate the sentiment, but we both know this isn’t mere theatrics to me. I refuse to belittle it that way.” He took a small, aborted breath. “So little of my life has meant anything. Let this mean something, Ban. Let me be nervous and excited. Let me feel this, because it means everything to me.”

His mind touched hers, disparate thoughts flitting through. Redemption, finally. Joy, that he had been chosen by her, wanted by her. Worthy to be the one waiting as she walked down the aisle. Worthy of being the man she’d bind herself to. Enough.

She smiled, her thumb tracing his cheekbone. “Of course it means something, and of course I want you to feel it as I do. I merely meant, well. If that sort of thinking would help ease your nerves, then it might be useful.” He leaned into her touch, eyes shuttering as his shoulders finally lowered. She drew in close, pressing their foreheads together; she on tiptoes and him bending down to accommodate her.

He exhaled, the warm air rushing over her face. She saw his lips part and kept her peace, waiting for him to speak.

“Thank you,” he finally mouthed, eyes still firmly shut. The hammering beneath her palm quieted some, and she pressed her lips to his.

There were flowers everywhere. Roses of every shade adorned each side of the aisle. The archway that they would stand under was just as she’d envisioned. She had known how it would look, had arranged everything with the florists, but seeing it all in its full glory as she peeked through a window sent a thrill down her spine.

Everyone she knew and loved was there, mingling as they prepared to take their seats - everyone save one. He was sequestered away, just as she was, in preparation for the ceremony. She caught a quick glimpse of Karlach fidgeting with her dress and Halsin looking uncomfortable in an old suit.

There was a knock at the door. She called out to an invitation to come in and it opened, revealing Wyll.

“The blushing bride.” He held out his arms and Ban stood for a tight hug.

As Wyll pulled away she looked out at the crowd, watching as they began to take their seats. “Who knew, hm?”

He stood beside her, crossing his arms. “Who knew, indeed.” He caught her gaze and offered a smile. “Shadowheart filled us in on everything that happened. A lot passes you by when you’re stuck in Avernus.”

“I don’t doubt that. Have you talked to Astarion?”

“A little, this morning.” Wyll ran a hand over a horn. “He seemed glad that I approached him, but his mind was elsewhere. I don’t blame him.”

“He’s happy you’re all here,” Ban offered. “I’m happy. I didn’t think I’d get to see you two again after the reunion.”

“In much happier circumstances, too,” he nodded. “We’re glad to be here. Perhaps the next wedding will be ours.”

Ban blinked twice. “Does Karlach know?”

He shook his head. “It won’t be anytime soon, but closer than she and everyone else thinks. I figure with our lives being so full of danger, she might want some time to settle after we’ve fixed her heart.”

“Well, if you need anything,” she said, clapping his shoulder, “you can always ask me. Or Astarion, for that matter.”

Wyll offered her another shy smile. “I’ll go ahead. Tell everyone to prepare. Shadowheart will come for you when it’s time.”

She nodded and Wyll left, leaving her to her thoughts. Not that there were any other than the present, the seconds seeming to tick by extremely slowly. Her mind wandered aimlessly, refusing to focus on any one thing for very long in an attempt to avoid thinking of how nervous she was starting to feel.

Ban had no idea how much time had passed, but it felt like mere seconds later when a bouquet was pressed onto her hands. Numerous people were suddenly checking her hair and makeup one last time and smoothing her dress into place. She took a nervous breath, keeping her eyes fixed upwards as she felt tears begin to pool. Crying would ruin the kohl.

“Take a deep breath.” Shadowheart’s hand on Ban’s shoulder startled her and she jerked, head snapping around to lock eyes with her friend.

“Is… Is it time?” Ban shuffled nervously, making sure to not step on the train of her gown.

“He’s waiting for you.” Shadowheart gathered most of the train, and they made their way out of the room. As they approached the main garden Ban swallowed; she could hear the music increasing in volume with every step.

She stopped in her tracks, Shadowheart almost tripping over the dress behind her. “I-” Ban turned to face her.

“This is it,” she choked out; tears filled her eyes and she blinked, trying to not let them fall. It shouldn’t matter, she told herself. It was a trite ceremony, and they were already eternally bound. She could think about the significance of it all later, when there were less eyes on her.

But she remembered his words, remembered him asking her to let it matter. She wanted to touch his mind, but they had agreed not to.

No cheating, he’d told her, after they’d had their final pre-wedding kiss earlier today. I want to feel it the way it was meant to be felt.

She’d understood what he meant. To experience it as if they were not vampires with a mental bond. As if they were just them.

Shadowheart approached her, carefully dabbing her tears away before they could spill. “We’ve faced worse, and you did it all fearlessly. You can do this.”

Ban nodded. “I know. I just…”

Feel it. She took one deep breath.

Shadowheart squeezed her hand one last time. “Walk as soon as your music starts.” She went ahead, taking her place next to Gale to walk down the aisle with him.

She stood there for a painful few minutes, hidden from view by a hedge. The music started, the song she’d picked for herself. Steeling her nerves, Ban took one last breath and walked to the aisle.

The setting sun hit her eyes first, blinding her for a moment. Her vision cleared and she saw the same roses, the same aisles, the same ivy-wrapped archway, but the seats were now full of people watching her. The music wasn’t quiet at all, but it was completely drowned out by her racing heart.

Her eyes locked onto that familiar glint of silver, the crimson of his eyes burning into her even from this distance. He had his hands clasped together, his face carefully neutral, shifting into an uncertain, boyish smile as their eyes met. Time froze. Nothing else mattered. Not Ulder standing by Astarion, not Gale holding the ring box in his hands. Not the music, nor the artists quickly sketching off to the side. Not the scent of roses or the blazing sunset. Not one other thing existed. Just him.

She took a step onto the red carpet. Then another. She could feel the slight drag of the train of her dress, requiring slightly more effort to place one foot in front of the other. She could feel the bite of the heeled shoes, a little tight, on her feet, and the subtle change in her posture to accommodate walking with an elevated heel. The feel of the satin ribbon holding the bouquet together contrasted with the rougher stems of the flowers it bound. The gown’s fabric slid against her body, shifting with every move.

Her mind registered all this, part of her begging to dwell on these trivial sensations, to hide behind her walls again.

We don’t cry. Not in public. Not like this. Not where everyone can see.

Her father’s words. Not hers.

Instead, she allowed herself to feel.

Every step brought her closer to the archway - to him. His smile was slightly wider now, but his eyes were wide and misty. She remembered everything - nights under the shelter of their tent, cuddled by the campfire, the soft press of his lips against her temple. Strong, slender fingers grasping her wrist, tugging her away from whatever trap she had missed in her rush. Those same capable hands undoing the straps of her breastplate, a small huff of annoyance as the armor snagged on her underclothes, tearing them, knowing those same hands would repair them later that same night. The scent of bergamot and rosemary, clinging to her clothes as they parted for the day, something she’d imagined she could still smell even under her armor. The sound of his voice, always the first one she sought out; his thoughts, his quips, even the playful little insults he’d throw her way.

Then more recently, their hands clasped in meetings, sly glances and hidden smirks as they mentally discussed the people they were making deals with. The press of his lithe body against hers as they twirled around the dance floor, leading her effortlessly. The heated kisses, his lips trailing a fiery path from her lips to her breasts, his hands tangled in hers. Breathless moans, whispered promises of eternal love - no longer only promises, but truth. Seeing his face every dawn, reaching across the bed and always finding him there, every time without fail, whether he was watching her or reading a book or sipping tea-

Astarion gave her a small, encouraging nod, and she smiled in return. The tears finally fell, wet as they traced a path down her cheeks, but she was beyond caring. She took a few more steps, bringing her closer to him - to her fate, to everything that had ever mattered and the only thing that ever truly would.

Hers. Hard-fought and almost lost, but hers now, for however long their immortal lives lasted - forever, she vowed, and even beyond.

She stopped. Faced him. He swallowed, his smile fading as he took a step towards her, his hand held out for hers. It was a gesture they’d made countless times, in countless ways - helping each other up in combat, in camp, at breakfasts and dinners and meetings and parties - but this felt like the first time. She placed her hand on his, feeling the skin under hers, smooth and trembling, but still the same. Always.

They stood side by side as Ulder recited the rites. None of it was anything she’d remember, she thought. Her eyes were on him, from the perfectly coiffed hair to the slightly-trembling hands clasped behind his back, to the embroidery on his shoes. She reached out, and to her relief he noticed and responded in kind, even though his eyes never left Ulder. His index finger touched her first, gently tracing the back of her hand. His lips curled at the corner, his eyes crinkling even as his gaze remained ahead. Ban slipped her hand into his and felt him squeeze.

“Do you, Lord Astarion Ancunín, take this woman to be your wedded wife?”

For the first time since the ceremony began his eyes moved over her. They were large, wet, and painfully beautiful. He shot her a grin before turning back to Ulder. “I do.” The hand holding hers was cold, and she fought back the urge to reach over and rub warmth back into it.

The same question was leveled at her. She met Ulder’s gaze while he spoke, but made sure her eyes were locked on Astarion’s as she uttered her response. His shoulders dropped almost imperceptibly at her words, eyes flicking downwards for the briefest of seconds, then settling back on her face.

Then Gale approached, the rings kept in a small, ornate box. He opened the lid, offering it up to Astarion, who nimbly took her ring in his hands. He playfully bounced the ring on his knuckle, to the crowd’s delight, then looked at her.

“I am not prone to… long speeches, or poetry, for that matter,” Astarion began, the ring passing between his thumb and index finger as he fidgeted with it. “Nor am I the kind of person who usually appreciates public declarations of love. However, with you I could enjoy anything, and that includes this.”

His hand drifted down, patting his hip anxiously. “You probably weren’t the best leader, likely not even the best companion - I’d wager Wyll wins out over everyone in that regard.”

Ulder laughed; Ban glanced over at Wyll, who gave her a small wink. Astarion continued. “Back then… you tended to make frankly foolhardy decisions - thought with your blade rather than your brain… except when it came to me. With me…” he paused, thinking, “you seemed to think with your heart. Yet another foolish thing to be doing at such a time, darling, but I very much appreciated it.”

“I cared little for you at the start. In truth I didn’t know how to care for anyone, and certainly didn’t think anyone could care for me… despite my dashing good looks.” He huffed out a high-pitched laugh, one she hadn’t heard in what felt like forever. He grew somber then, and continued. “But I quickly grew to love you. I grew to treasure every single moment we spent together, from camping out in the wilderness to the most mundane arguments about which vase would match the drapes. We’ve already lived through a lifetime’s worth of tribulations in our time together, but look at us.” He gestured at her and then himself. “We held on to one another, through every challenge. We have worked so hard to be the people we are today. To seize this happiness for ourselves and for one another.”

He ran a hand through his hair, mussing the curls as his fingers carded through them. “And while there’s little doubt we’ll run into more trouble, because of course,” he rolled his eyes. “I do so knowing that you will be with me for all of it. Knowing that my every sunrise and sunset will be spent with you. Knowing that…” his breath caught, and Ban squeezed his hand. He swallowed. “that after two centuries… I am finally enough, the way that I am. Perhaps quite a bit more than enough at times, darling,” he chuckled.

Astarion straightened up. “But now that I am enough… I stand here today and I vow to love you forever. For the rest of time, even when the sun burns out and we give ourselves to the night. When we face whatever lies beyond - I vow to love you then too.”

His hand took hers, slipping the ring onto her finger. It did not meet much resistance, the cold metal settling in place easily. They both looked down at it, at how it seemed to belong there, as if it had always been there but just out of sight.

Gale’s movement brought her back to the moment. The box was held out to her, and she took Astarion’s ring. It was larger than hers, heavier, with a slightly thicker band, and with engraving identical to hers. She looked at him and saw the same hunger in his eyes as the day she’d asked him to marry her, that ravenous need clear in the set of his features.

“I wasn’t… born for this. Not for any of it. My life was supposed to be one of quiet subservience, to be what I was raised to be. I left that behind, and then I thought my life would be one of unassuming simplicity. Not… not these gardens. Not this palace, or the journey we all had. Not immortality. Not you.” She bit her lip, a fang catching on it. “I think we were both done a great favor the day the nautiloid took us. It brought me to you, and you to me.”

“The way fate works is something I don’t pretend to comprehend. I don’t think any god looked kindly on us before that day,” she snuck a glance at Withers, who merely nodded, “but neither do I think it was mere chance. We were… meant to be here. Meant to meet, meant to go through everything we did and everything else we will encounter. Each meant for the other,” she added, watching his lips curl as he acknowledged her words.

“You waited far too long for me, while I did not have to wait long at all. There’s no compensation that can make up for all that,” and she shook her head as he opened his mouth, “but I hope that I can at least begin to… I don’t know, ease it.”

She looked down at the ring in her hand. It felt easier to say the words then, without meeting his gaze. “There are not enough words to express the depth of my love for you, and I fear there never will be. I have never been good at baring my heart, but if there was ever a moment to do so anyway it would be this one. I could say I love you more than anything I’ve ever loved in my life, and it would be true, but somehow it fails to express the sheer magnitude of my feelings for you.” She dared glance up to Astarion and was rewarded by an encouraging nod. “I vow from this day on to love you, to cherish you, and to see you. Even when it gets hard, even when it takes work to do so. I promise to do better, as you have done. I shall be your rock, your support, your comfort whenever you need me. Until the sun burns out, and through whatever lies beyond, I am yours. For as long as we exist, I vow to be your home, as you are mine.” She finally met his gaze and thanked herself for not fully looking up sooner. He looked so beautiful.

Astarion held his hand up, his fingers quivering visibly. He was smiling, but it was a bit frozen, almost forced in his anxious excitement. His eyes were too bright and wet, and she realized the trembling wasn’t just his hand but his whole body. She wanted nothing more than to wrap him in her arms and hide him away from everyone else, to keep him in the shelter of her embrace until his nervousness abated.

She slid the ring onto his finger.

Astarion cleared his throat. “Wrong finger,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. She stammered out a quick sorry, moving the ring from his middle to his ring finger.

The moment the ring slid home, Ulder spoke up. “It is with great honor that I pronounce you husband and wife. Lord Ancunín, you may kiss your beautiful bride.”

Instantly, Astarion wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her close. He pressed their bodies together, and slipped his hands down, linking them under her ass. He gripped her tightly, lifting her up. She wound her hands around his neck, the silken fabric of his collar pleasant against her skin.

His mouth slotted against hers, his plush lips pressing against her own. Leaning into the kiss, she heard him groan softly as his tongue lapped at her lips, seeking entrance. She opened for him and the approving hum that answered her sent shivers down her spine. The feeling of his teeth catching her lower lip, dragging over it as he pulled gently, elicited a quiet moan from her. The sound of whistling from somewhere in the crowd broke through to her and she finally pulled away, embarrassed. He set her down but didn’t let go of her.

Astarion simpered for the crowd, but his eyes were still damp and round. He offered her his arm and she gratefully accepted, leaning against him as they walked back down the aisle, finally husband and wife.

Astarion sauntered over to where Ban stood in front of the enchanted mirror, fighting with the clasps of her capelet, approaching from behind. “Does my wife need aid?” His hands ran over her shoulders to the clasps.

“Probably,” she huffed. “I had so much trouble having them put on. No one really knows how to do it, other than you.”

They were working on their first outfit change of the day, and she knew there would be more. Astarion had insisted on doing so for some variety in the portraits that would be painted today, but Ban also thought it a good idea to convey a sense of decadence and power. She was beginning to regret the pragmatism in that decision, now that she had to deal with the reality of multiple complex and tedious dress changes in a single evening.

He hummed in response, fingers slipping under the ornamentation to undo the buttons. “At the very least they managed to put it on straight. I was worried.”

“Gale did say as much.”

They both watched their reflections as he easily unbuttoned one side, then did the other, allowing the cape to fall to the floor between them. He leaned forwards, placing a kiss on her bare shoulder.

“Do you require more assistance, my love?” he whispered against the shell of her ear.

Shivering, she turned. “I wouldn’t say no, but I’m surprised you’re offering. The day isn’t quite over yet, Astarion.”

“Is it not? We’re wedded,” he held up his left hand, ring glinting in the candlelight, “and we have more than two hours before the reception starts. I presume we could steal a few minutes.” He closed in, crowding her, foreheads almost touching. “It wouldn’t take long, surely.”

Ban shook her head, reaching back to begin untying the laces of her dress. “We have portraits to pose for. We don’t have time.” She would have loved to; a month apart ensured her resistance was thin, but in that moment her thoughts were with the wedding arrangements. “As much as I want to-”

The words died in her throat as he moaned in her ear, rolling his hips against her thigh. “Certainly it should be up to me when our game ends, don’t you agree, darling? Ten minutes,” he whispered, “is all I would need.”

“Astarion-”

“Please.”

That word and the needy, aggressive tone in his voice undid the last threads of her restraint. She growled, taking a step back to remove the rest of her outfit. His eyes tracked her every move as she stripped the gown off, shimmying out of it gracelessly, shoving it down to her legs and stepping out of it.

“On that table,” Astarion pointed, and she backed up to sit on its edge. He prowled towards her, eyes dark and very much hungry, still fully clothed. His hands parted her legs roughly as he knelt. Their eyes met and she swallowed.

“Ten minutes, Astarion,” she warned weakly.

A dark bark of amusement answered her. “Trust me. I require less than that.”

His hand made its way up her thigh, fingers dancing playfully. He kissed her knee, eyes still locked onto hers. The other hand wrapped around the back of her knee, fixing that leg in place.

“Be a good girl,” he purred, “and be quiet. We don’t want anyone,” he traced her folds through her underwear, then flicked her clit through the fabric, “hearing us, do we?”

“Or walking in.” She took a quick, cursory look. She was pretty sure the door had been locked so they could change; the likelihood of anyone walking in was low.

He sank his teeth into the meat of her thigh, lapping lazily at the blood that formed, then smirked. His thumb ran circles around her clit, no doubt feeling the wetness beginning to soak through the cloth. “That too.”

Her eyes were glued to him as he began kissing his way up her thigh, fangs scraping her skin. He mouthed at her core, the thin cloth leaving too little and yet too much in between his tongue and her. He drew back a hand to undo the buttons of his suit, but his mouth never left her.

She rolled her hips, an insistent, pleading gesture, one hand wrapping around the side of the table as she bit on the other to stifle a moan. He hooked a finger in her underwear, tugging the fabric aside to bare her glistening folds. Red eyes flicked to her face, and he looked ravenous. “I wager you now agree with my assessment?”

“Probably less than ten minutes, yes,” she said breathlessly. “Just please. Lick me.”

He nodded, his face perfectly neutral, as if they were merely talking about the weather. “I knew you’d come around.” Keeping his eyes on her, he licked her, his tongue laid flat, from her entrance all the way up, making sure to give her a firm flick where she needed it most.

Ban groaned, spreading her legs further, needing more. Astarion obliged, slipping two fingers into her without meeting any resistance. “You’re deliciously wet, darling. How long have you wanted this? Wanted my tongue on you, wanted me - my fingers or my tongue or my cock, any part of me - inside you?”

She bucked, fucking herself on his fingers helplessly. “Too long,” she whispered. “Far too long.”

“Then I shall reward your patience, my love.” Without another word he dove right back between her legs; his hand spread her open, his tongue running circles around her clit before finally wrapping his lips around it and suckling.

She whined, the sensation momentarily overwhelming, but then he shifted into gentle, loving licks. Even that was intense, her hand instinctively lowering over his head, about to fist into his curls, until she remembered they needed to keep them pristine for the reception. She saw his eyes crinkle at her movement, but his mouth and fingers never stopped their work.

His fingers pumped into her faster, curling to hit her spot with every pass. His tongue lapped harder, the delicious friction making her hips move of their own accord, grinding against him. The fingers spreading her open, the naked, sheer desire in those eyes eating up her every reaction, the way his hips moved desperately in rhythm with his fingers, and the tent in his trousers were sights to behold, sights she had not seen in far too long, and it brought her climax barreling towards her.

“Astarion,” she whimpered, his name a quiet supplication upon the altar of his tongue.

He growled, low and deep in his throat, dragging a fang across her clit. The vibration and the slight sting of his fang sent chills racing along her entire body. She fought the urge to arch, to allow her eyes to roll back, wanting to see it. To see him. Their eyes met, and he cockily raised a brow as he gave her one last, hard flick, perfectly timed with a hard thrust of his fingers.

She bit her hand, fangs inadvertently breaking skin, a loud, muffled scream emanating from her as she came. Her hips jerked and Astarion wrapped a hand around her hip, pressing her closer as he lapped up everything she had to give. As she slowly recovered he kept licking, seemingly unwilling to stop. She could still see his erection straining against his trousers, his hips still slowly rocking.

“I… fuck,” she finally managed to say. She put a hand on his shoulder, pushing gently, feeling slightly oversensitive.

Astarion let go, a lazy, satisfied smirk on his face. He wiped his mouth on his cravat, then tugged it off. “Plenty of time to spare, just as I expected.”

Still trembling, Ban barely managed an annoyed glare. She let her eyes stray to the bulge between his legs. “And what about you?”

He looked down, as if noticing his clearly painful erection for the first time. “I think I can wait a little longer.” He adjusted his trousers and took a slow, deep breath in an attempt to calm down. “I simply wanted to end your punishment.”

“As for myself,” he drew in close and kissed her, letting her taste herself on his tongue, “I figure I have all night, and eternity after that.”

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blooming-violets · 20 days

Note

Nicest Thing Peter x Reader for 11. In joy? I really like that fic. I reblogged it on my old account. I feel like thats an underrated fic of yours (maybe bc it came out in 2022? Idk). Would love to see what happened to them!

It's still one my favs because it is just so...me?? Like if I had to chose anything that represented my personality perfectly, it would be Nicest Thing. Just a depressed, sad bitch who loves angst and Peter Parker and enjoys Kate Nash. I feel like I need another Kate Nash song for this "sequel" fic. I'll base it off her song Trash because these two are trash for each other.

You can read this as a separate, on its own Peter x Reader thing if you'd like or you can read it as a future piece to Nicest Thing.

Warnings: Smoking a joint and getting stoned

If porn bots can over take all the tags then I better not get flagged for these gifs.

Peter looked at her through blazed out, squinting eyes. A haze of smoke filled their bathroom as they passed the joint back and forth between them. They were seated in the unfilled tub, fully clothed, and facing each other. She had made him take the spot next to the faucet under the claims that sitting over the drain made her feel “icky” like she might get sucked in. He didn’t mind. Even if their leaky faucet kept dripping cold water over his shoulder.

“Do you remember the Rugrats episode when Tommy and Chuckie are afraid of getting sucked down the bathtub drain because Angelica tells them a story of some other baby who died that way?” He asked, handing her off the joint.

She placed it between her lips and he watched with a slow blinking, admiration for her. He loved her. She had been with him through everything. He owed his entire life to her. Without her in his life, he would no longer be here. She was everything important in the world.

She smiled, remembering, and let out the most beautiful laugh. She always got extra giggly when they smoked. It was one of his favorite sounds.

“Don’t they fill the drain with play-doh and shit? It’s a weird reddish, pink color. Why do I remember that specific color so much?” She replied, mystified.

Peter chuckled, “Because old school Rugrats was filled with some crazy ass imagery. It sticks in your mind.”

“Yeah but I remember thinking that I specifically wanted to eat that color...like maybe it would taste nice…like the imaginary food from Hook.” She passed it back to him, letting the smoke exhale in a little, circular puffs from between her lips.

“Do you want to get into a pretend food fight with me and see if anything appears?” He grinned.

Her red rimmed eyes squinted back at him as she laughed, “With the way these munchies have been hitting me the past few minutes, I think it might actually happen. I could imagine food hard enough to make it show up.”

His mind started to wander as a hungry smile spread across his face, imagining all the food he could eat, and he spoke with a dreamy whisper, “Pizza bagels.”

“What?”

“Let’s make pizza bagels. ‘M hungry. Starvin’. Gonna die if I don’t get some food in me.”

Her eyes glowed with excitement at the idea, “Pizza bagels. Yes, you’re a genius!”

“I know,” he giggled, it bubbled out of him without any self control. It wasn’t the weed that did it. It was her. He felt free when he was with her. He flicked out the joint against the ashtray balancing on the edge of the tub. “I really am. Smartest man alive, probably.”

She snorted, “Okay, I wouldn’t go that far. Get your ego in check, Parker, before I have to slap some sense back into you.”

He beamed at her, his love consumed him, feeling it outshine every other emotion rattling around inside of him. She was beautiful. Stunning. Picture perfect. He wanted to hang her up on his wall like an expensive piece of art so he could admire every day of his life.

Her shoulders shrunk up to her ears under the intensity of his gaze.

“Stop that,” she whispered. “Don’t look at me with those eyes or I’ll kick you. I’ve got a perfect aim for your crotch in this position.”

Peter shook his head, “Nope, sorry, I refuse. I can’t help it. You look…perfect. The nicest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

“You’re stoned.”

“Yes. Doesn’t change the fact that your lips look very enticing.” He winked at her and tried to scoot forward to get a taste.

Her socked foot landed against his chest, pushing him back in place, “I thought we were making pizza bagels, not kissing. Weren’t you just starving a minute ago?”

“Starving for you, maybe.”

“Peter!” She let out a loud laugh, keeping him at bay with her outstretched leg.

He was so in love. Completely enamored. Whipped. Head over heels. Trash for her. Whatever he wanted to call it. He belonged to her so wholly. His bleeding heart was in her hand for the rest of his life. He would follow her to the ends of the earth and back again.

“If you don’t let me kiss you right this very second, I am going to turn this shower on.” His hand reached over his shoulder to grip onto the shower knob with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

She gave a sharp inhale, “You wouldn’t dare.”

His eyebrows raised, taking on that challenge, “Oh really?”

She knew she fucked up the second before the shower burst to life. From his position in the tub, it shot over his head to spray directly into her face. She shrieked and fell back, sliding down the sloped edge of the tub until she was nearly on her back.

It was all the opportunity he needed to pounce. He leapt on top of her to the sound of her laughter and blocked the shower stream from her face with his back. His arms wrapped protectively around her head as he laid over her. Water pooled around them, warming their bodies, and soaking through their clothes.

They didn’t feel it.

All he could feel was the devoted love burning a hole in his chest where his heart used to be.

She giggled up at him, blinking water droplets from her eyes, and whispered, “You’re an ass.”

He laughed in response and crashed his lips over hers, mumbling against them, “You love me.”

She sighed in content. Her arms snaked around his neck to draw him closer, melting happily into his kiss.

“I do.”

#i will take every opportunity to stick this man in a tub or shower #andrew garfield #tasm #tasm x reader #peter parker #peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter #tasm peter x reader #tasm fic #tasm peter fic #tasm peter parker fic

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crazyk-imagine · 1 year

Text

I Have to Follow my Heart

Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x Addams Witch!reader

Characters: Addams Witch!reader, Xavier Thorpe, Wednesday Addams, Joseph Crackstone

Briefly mentioned: Morticia Addams, Gomez Addams, Uncle Fester, Thing, Enid Sinclar, Bianca Barclay, Eugene Otinger, Tyler Galpin aka the hyde, Marilyn Thornhill (Laurel Gates)

Warnings: Supernatural fight, reader has visions, powers, mentions of Uncle Fester’s electricity powers, sacrificing oneself (more or less), bits and pieces of the last episode, the battle between Joseph Crackston and Wednesday, Xavier gets reader a phone, friends going through a tough time, Xavier and reader going through the motions of Wednesday’s theory

Word Count: 2,032

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At times I wished I had the same emotionless expression as my “cousin.” One might ask why I put air quotes around the word, it’ simple.

Her uncle Fester happened to stumble upon myself and mother’s violin when I was merely three months old during one of his “adventures”.

As I previously said, I wish I could copy her expression, especially now. You slam your journal shut, turning to look at your clock.

You grab your jacket and exit the room, making your way towards Xavier’s art shed. Your mind is blank but thoughts float around your mind, you wonder what it is he wanted to talk to you about.

With Wednesday firmly believing that he is the hyde, it makes you more weary of being alone with him… in the woods but if you can talk to him in his safe space so he doesn’t “totally freak out” as Enid would say, you believe it would do you good.

“Do you believe me?” Xavier spins around to look at you.

You gulp, this is not where you saw this going right after entering the shed. “I don’t- I don’t know,” you say, giving him your honest answer.

“What do you mean you don’t know? It’s either you believe that I’m not the monster or you agree with your cousin,” he hisses out the word you’ve grown accustomed to calling the pigtailed girl.

You ignore his gaze and opt to look at the floor. “I- I,” the thought you had written down in your journal crosses your mind.

“I don’t think you’d do all these things, but you have to admit the evidence she has does make it highly possible for you to be the hyde.”

He furrows his brows, face slowly becoming more void of emotion. “If you really believe that I’m the monster then why are you here?”

You raise your head. “I- I needed to see it for myself.”

“See what?” He asks with a tired tone.

“I- what’s that?” You point over to the sketchbook with a flower bookmark sticking out of it.

“That- that’s nothing. Why is that important now?” He’d never admit it out loud, but he was always impressed with how your attention could be drawn elsewhere within a second, even if it isn’t the most appropriate time for this to happen.

You ignore him and walk over towards it, opening the page to find a drawing of yourself playing your deceased mothers’ violin. You reach for the flower and find yourself thrown into a vision.

How odd, Wednesday’s the one who usually experiences these, at least from what you can remember. It is also weird how whenever she would have one, you would pass out.

Eugene’s screams flood your mind.

The cave where the monster hides is on fire.

The hyde’s wide and red rimmed eyes.

Red boots… red boots?

You wake up, blinking as your eyes adjust to the moonlit room. “How did I get here?”

The numerous footsteps echoing throughout the hallway draw you out of bed.

You open the door and listen to the scared and panicked shrieks of the other students, rushing over towards the railing you find the red aura of the siren song on the lower floors.

Crackstone.

Your head snaps over towards the side. You furrow your brows at the sight of a pale dressed Wednesday, not your cousin but- “Goody?”

She nods. “You must help her.”

“Help who?”

“The key.”

You remember the pigtailed girl mentioning this to you, you know exactly who she’s referring to. “Where is she?”

“I am going to her now, but you must guide her.”

“Guide her? Guide her how?”

“His black heart will end it… I must go to her now.” She starts to disappear.

“No, Goody. Wait!” You sigh and look down.

Bianca’s head snaps up.

You block her song and search for a window. At times like this, you’re happy you’ve climbed the walls of the school.

You stand on the edge of the roof just before the upper hallway where you can see Bianca and a few others. You don’t feel good, something’s going on with the black-haired girl, the urge to scream is on the tip of your tongue but you fight it as you protect the students.

You place a temporary shield around the area, preventing the fire from reaching any of the students and jump down. “Crackstone!”

He turns to you, the evil look in his eye should send shivers down your spine but you don’t let it, not wanting him to harm anyone.

“Another one. How nice.” The revived Joseph Crackstone taunts you.

“Don’t you think this is a bit much?”

He aims his magical staff at you, luckily you are able to block it. “I am ridding the earth of you abominations!”

“You’re an abomination too!”

“Lies!”

“Your descendant raised you, brought you back from the dead!”

You spin around, avoiding his magic. “You have magic! You are now the very thing you despise yourself! How can you get rid of what keeps your heart beating at this very moment!”

“I am doing what should have been done years ago.”

“You’re going to die, and your magic will not be able to save you.” You raise your hand, trying to telepathically pull the staff away from him.

“Stay away from her.”

Why does this voice sound so familiar?

The arrow flies past your head, in front of the resurrected man, only for him to use his magic and flip it.

You cannot let it hit him or anyone else and put yourself before him to stop it. You spin around, landing on your back unable to catch your breath.

Xavier runs towards you, lifting your upper body off the ground.

“Get the others out of here,” you tell him once you can breathe again.

“What?” He furrows his brows, mouth curling in disbelief.

“You need to get the other students out of here. We cannot lose anyone else.”

“I don’t-”

“I have to help her,” you whisper.

He helps you up, “I don’t like this idea.”

“Good thing,” you snap the arrow and chuck it onto the ground. “You aren’t going to be here to see the rest of it… be careful.”

“You, too.” You push him away when you sense Joseph aiming the damn staff at you.

You stand beside Wednesday. “We have to aim for his-”

“Heart, yes,” she cuts you off. “I didn’t realize you were aware.”

“Let’s say, seeing the dead does have its perks at times. I expect no tears from you at my funeral.”

“Don’t-”

Xavier turns at her shout, his heart drops.

You run at him as Bianca stabs the man in the back. You rub your hands together, thankful for Fester teaching you how to use his trick now more than ever. You hold him in place and call out for her. “Now, Wednesday!”

She lifts the sword and stabs him in his black heart.

You can’t remove your hands from him, not until he fully disappears even then you fall, eyes closing.

The hands on your shoulders and whoever’s attempting to do CPR bring you out of your quick reenergize nap.

You open your eyes and give three a tired smile.

The artist helps you sit up and continues to hold you even as Wednesday wraps her arms around you.

You smile and kiss the top of her head, letting her know it’s over (you hope, unless Nevermore isn’t done with you all).

She forces herself off you, letting Bianca and Xavier help you up.

You nod to the siren. “Let’s go find the others.”

The four of you walk out of the school, searching for the waiting party.

You lean against the boy throughout the entire walk.

He hasn’t said a word to you, and you don’t know what you could say to him other than, “I’m sorry.”

Enid rushes over to hug your cousin, giving you a moment to talk to him.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I believed you were the very thing that would terrorize the school when I shouldn’t have. I should have followed my heart.”

“I think I can forgive you. I mean, you did take an arrow to the shoulder for me.”

“And I would do it again if it meant I had your trust.”

He shakes his head, “I wouldn’t want you to get hurt over my trust.”

“I should have listened to you.”

The corner of his lip’s tugs upward, “yeah, maybe. But now that you’ve saved the school, I think I can understand where you were coming from.”

“No, don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Don’t just brush it off, I know what I did wasn’t the nicest or most respectful thing to do when I’ve known you and have been your friend for three years. I know you; I have for years, and I shouldn’t have let someone else’s theories get into my head to ruin that trust.”

He nods, tucking the hair blocking his view behind his ear. “I’ll take that into consideration.”

Your lips twitch, “that’s all I ask.”

Enid rushes over to you, hugging you not nearly as tightly as your cousin but enough to let you know how much she cares about you.

You leave Wednesday to finish her novel while Thing finishes packing for her. You wonder around, waiting until it’s time to leave.

“The feeling of eyes on me brings a chill up my spine and not in the fun way,” you think. “That would be a good thought to right down when I return to my room.”

You turn, facing the stairs to find him watching you which may be creepy to some, but you find it to be rather sweet.

He waves and leans against the railing.

You walk up the stairs, wanting to talk to him before your dragged out of here. “Are your parents coming to pick you up?”

He shrugs, “probably not… I got you something.”

“Really?” You raise a brow.

“It’s not much but it’ll be faster than the letters." He lifts the lid off the box, showing you your new phone.

“Don’t expect a call,” you inform him, not wanting to hurt his feeling. You must really care about him if you’re taking his feelings into consideration.

“I’m not.”

You squint your eyes at him, “seems you know me well.”

“That and,” he tucks his hair behind his ears. “I know you don’t like new things… at least, until you get the hang of them.”

“I guess we’ll have to see about this then.”

“I believe in you.”

“I trust that you’ll have a normal summer?”

“It might be fun if I get a phone call.”

“Don’t push it.”

He smiles, having a feeling that you’ll learn to use the phone faster to call him. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Fine. I’ve decided to let it heal on its own.”

“No magic?”

“I believe it would be wise to save my energy. I have a feeling we’re just getting started with Nevermore and all it has to offer.” You take the phone out of the box and hold it. “How do you use this dark box you call a phone?”

He chuckles, taking it from you, “why are you calling it a dark box exactly?”

“It’s painfully obvious.”

“Alright, I’ll give you that. I already programmed my phone number in here. What exactly you were looking for?”

“I want to send you my aunt Morticia and Uncle Gomez’ address. I will be staying with Wednesday and her family this summer; we believe it would be wise if we stay together.”

“Okay,” he shows you how to use the phone.

“I cannot guarantee I’ll be able to remember all of this.”

“As long as you can turn it on and remember to charge it, you’ll be alright,” he assures you.

“Do you know if you’re ability can work over the phone?”

He shrugs. “I’ve never tried before.”

“Perhaps it could be our summer activity?”

He nods, not at all hiding his smile when you said, “our activity”. It seems as though there’s a chance for him to ask you out in the near future. “Maybe.”

#wednesday #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe imagines #wednesday series imagine #wednesday series imagines #wednesday imagine #wednesday imagines #xavier thorpe x #addams reader #xavier thorpe x addams witch!reader #xavier thorpe x wtich reader #xavier thorpe x witch!reader #xavier thorpe x witch reader #xavier thorpe x addams reader #crazyk-imagine

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hypermania · 8 months

Text

transcript of the full thread:

"A very long thread: To the League fans, We found out this news along with you on Friday. I see the pain and anger and worry out there, which for the LGBTQIA+ fans of the show is of course compounded by what’s happening across the country right now. #ALeagueOfTheirOwn

So the first and most important thing to say is: Before anything, before you fight for the show or each other, please take care of yourselves. Reach out to your community and ask for help if you need it. You aren’t alone. Please be kind to yourselves.

As I’ve been thinking about what’s happened, I come back to a quote from Penny Marshall’s film: “The hard is what makes it great.” Making this show is so hard and so great. There’s quite a bit to say about what’s been hard, but at this point that’s in the past.

Of course, if we have an avenue to do it well, we will continue the show, and I love seeing the noise you’re making in support of that. The noise matters!

And it’s hard for me to imagine there wouldn’t be a home for a show that thanks to you was in the Nielsen Top 10 for three weeks, was the top show on Amazon for a month and in the top five for six, that was recognized by critics as something special, that’s been recognized…

…with awards from GLAAD, HRC and a million other organizations, that was on a million year-end top ten lists, and that has a built in and deeply passionate audience.

Amazon is pursuing different kinds of programming, but to the rest of the world this show is a hit and has huge value and even greater potential. But first things first, we have to win this strike and get a fair deal before we can explore what comes next.

But for a moment, I want to talk about what happens if the world didn’t quite change quickly enough for you to have all the seasons of this show that we want to give you.

If we don’t find a good path forward, I will still know that League did what it came here to do and, in its own small way, changed the world.

And that’s because of all of you, and the light you continue to shine on the show — How you let it matter to you, how you let it become a mirror, how you let it change you.

I’ve never experienced a response to a show that’s as deep, personal, creative and meaningful as what the fans have done with League. When we were making the season 1, we all wondered and worried about whether people would accept it on its own terms next to the film.

They have, and you did that, and so much more. You lit up the internet on your first watch throughs of the show, when you realized where it was going (and made all of us laugh in the process).

You wrote enough fan fiction for 100 novels and created an outpouring of art and creativity that could fill its own museum — I’ve truly never seen anything like it.

You lifted up a 95 year old who had just come out of the closet and made her into a celebrity who gets recognized wherever she goes. Every time any member of the cast appears at anything, you turn it into a convention.

You stop Abbi wherever she goes, and though I’m a happily inconspicuous person, and you constantly find me and stop me and give me gifts that now have a shelf in my house.

When thousands of you appeared to see D’Arcy at the stage door of The Thanksgiving Play over its run, you turned it into the hottest queer bar in New York. You made Max’s suit and Chante’s beautiful performance into a movement.

A mob of you went to Pittsburgh and saw all of our locations. You dressed as the characters and made our characters into one of the biggest halloween costumes of last year.

You came out, you changed pronouns, you started living more openly, you gave sermons in church about the show, you opened bars, and you got a truly mind boggling number of tattoos that say “to the five” and “rob the bank.” What else am I forgetting? I'm sure you'll remind me.

But most importantly, you made a community, you found each other and found joy, which of course is what the show is about. In many more ways than I would ever have let myself imagine while we were making it, you literally bring the show to life every day.

Thank you for making our work mean something bigger. We’ve heard from so many different kinds of people around the world who are watching League.

But, in a time when all queer people are personally and politically under attack across the country and HRC has declared a “state of emergency,” my biggest fear is that the many queer fans of League will take this reversal as one more invalidation, one more blow, one more…

…effect of the general politicization of our identities. Most of us grew up feeling invisible, and as we gain strength, the predictable backlash forces are trying their hardest to get us to go back underground.

In case anyone needs to hear it: You are not small, niche, modest, off-putting or marginal, and neither are your stories. You are multitudes, you are building, and your stories are universal. You are the most rapidly growing audience and consumer group in this country.

You are powerful. You are the future, and the people who don’t recognize your importance now will feel be clamoring to catch up in a few years. As Chante said so beautifully when we received the Human Right Campaign Visionary award, you are the main characters. Be proud.

Be angry if you that’s how you feel, but know that we are going to win, and don’t ever let this moment or any other make you small. The biggest lesson of the characters in this show is that, in a world that had no space for them at all, they LIVED. (Continued)

They found love, they did the things they loved, they won. You’re doing the same thing, and just like them, you are heroes. We are still fighting for League. But whether we win or lose this one, I’m so proud.

From the time when we began working on the season, Abbi, Deta and I said to each other — Let’s not hold anything back, for as long as we get to be here, let’s do this the right way.

We got so many notes wondering if the exploration of the queer world of the 1940s or Max’s world would be better saved for season 2, if people needed to start somewhere a little more familiar. I’m so glad we didn’t listen, cause now I’m sitting here without any regrets.

And no matter what happens, the people behind League aren’t going anywhere. Give us a minute, we will be back with more for you to watch and read and feel. We’re going to win.

And you’re not going anywhere either, because what you’ve built and what you are is bigger than this show. It’s the story of our community, that comes to us through the hidden history that League shows just one small part of: The bars got raided and shut down.

But the people didn’t go anywhere, and they opened a new bar, and out of those spaces came music, cinema, dance, culture — What we now see as mainstream was birthed from the spaces our predecessors were forced to hide in. They made joy there."

#aloto #a league of their own #will graham #mp #long post

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solar-wing · 6 months

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⚣ Magical Lessons in Ass-Whooping ☀️

⚣☀️ A/N → If you remember, this was like a snippet out of a story I was going to write for Conner x an original character. Haven't decided if I'm going to continue it, but I definitely want to write my scenarios and shots like this. Hope you guys enjoy it for those reading the first time and even those reading a second! WARNINGS: Canon-Typical Violence, Tension, Implied homewrecking

⚣☀️ Summary → Considering you've spent your entire life learning and studying magic from the moment you could utter your first words, it'd make sense for you to eventually start teaching and helping others. Especially those who are currently providing you refuge as things back home are a bit dangerous. But, one of them is going to learn that our knowledge is not just limited to thaumaturgy and the arcane. 'Talk shit, get hit' is a global phenomenon.

⚣☀️ Words → 2.8k

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY ☀️

“And just make sure to control your breathing…you got it!” You cheered.

A bright glimmer enveloped the room as little wisps of light started appearing around the room, forming tiny butterflies. You’d been helping Zatanna train and master her magic while also teaching her some new tricks.

You hailed from a hidden kingdom, created from a divine gift bestowed on to your ancestor from the powerful deity linked to the sun. This power continued to pass on to their descendants, every eldest child in your bloodline blessed with the power of our solar system’s star, making you and your ancestors some of the most powerful beings to live in existence.

It was a heavy responsibility, bearing the mantle of the ‘Child of the Sun,’ being able to control such a potent and raw energy inside you. From the moment you were old enough to even say your first words, you’d been in magical training and studies to ensure your mastery of your powers. You could blast bad guys and restore an entire city with your magic by the time you were five years old.

And now, you were teaching others!

“Oh my god, I actually got it! Thanks, Y/N.” Zatanna cheered, wrapping you around in a hug.

You returned it joyfully before separating, “It’s as I mentioned previously, magic is special to us all. It lives all around and inside us. Everybody has their own individual sense of magic. Some just know and are better at channeling it than others.” You explained.

“Oh, I get it! Like a magical DNA print,” M’Gann summarized. She and Artemis were standing to the side watching the lesson you were giving Zatanna, both wanting to learn more about the mystic arts.

You smiled at the Martian’s words, nodding your head, “Exactly! Magic forms differently in everyone and changes itself as we grow and change ourselves. That’s why it’s important to find your source and learn how to connect it with a strong emotional foundation, and boom… You’ve got magic.”

Your hands glowed as you raised them to the air, a bright spot at the top of the cave forming that shined like the sun before bursting, releasing dancing rays of light swept across the room along with the little wisps of butterflies.

“So, what’s your source? If you don’t mind me asking,” Artemis inquired as the magic dissipated.

“Not at all,” You replied with a smile, “Well, obviously, being the whole ‘Child of the Sun’ thing, my source centers around that, the Sun and its solar energy.” You waved one of your hands, a light trail tailing behind as you summoned a bright illusion of your solar system’s central star.

The girls had to cover their eyes a little bit since even as a magical illusion, it still hurt their eyes. It felt so real, it was almost as if it was generating its own heat as well, warming the air around them.

“Ooh, like Superman?” M’Gann asked.

“Close, but not exactly. My source is the sun, so my magic manifests and channels itself as pure light granting me the enhancements and abilities that come with being, well, ‘light.’ Superman relies more on the radiation from its solar energy, another ability I may possess,” You answered.

Your new friends paused at that, “Wait, huh? What do you mean?” Artemis asked.

You considered for a moment if you should share this information as it was technically confidential and only privy to those of the royal family and their most trusted attendants. You figured there couldn’t be any harm in sharing this bit of information as it wasn’t like it could spell the end of the world or anything.

“A group of royal scholars and sorcerers have dedicated themselves to studying the magic and power behind the Children of the Sun since my great-grandfather’s reign. They’ve studied its different forms and how it’s moved down my family’s line over generations, noting its different strengths and weaknesses. They’ve also cataloged the different abilities it creates over time,” You explained, the teammates hanging off your every word.

“One of the scholars recently made a discovery that linked solar radiation with one of the spells I learned as a kid that can create daylight at night. When they discovered this connection, they explored more on the topic, finding that many of my spells and powers also give off their own form of radiation similar to the sun’s solar radiation. It’s led them to theorize that my ancestors and I may possibly have the ability to utilize the sun’s radiation to our advantage.”

“Wait, you’re saying you can manipulate solar radiation?! Does that mean you could take down Superman if you wanted to?” Zatanna asked.

You smiled at their surprised faces, “I’m not sure since it’s a new theory and will take time to study. Plus, I’ve never actually tried before. Hopefully, I never have to. At least with that kind of scenario,” You responded.

“Never have to what?”

You and the girls turned around to see the other guys coming down the hall, assumingly having entered the base from the ‘front door’ as M’Gann likes to call it. Conner looked at the girls and you with his arms crossed, his usual deadpan expression sitting on his face as he waited for an answer.

“Where did you guys go?” Zatanna asked, ignoring his question as Dick, Wally, and Kaldur made their way to the center of the training floor, Conner standing a little further back.

“We had a little team outing with just us guys. Hope you ladies weren’t too bored without us.” Wally smirked.

“We weren’t, as a matter of fact. We had Y/N here to keep us company since you all apparently didn’t want to include him on your little guy’s trip,” Artemis replied with her own smug smile.

“Oh really, what did you do? Sit around and do rain dances to call on the Lords of Make-Believe?”

“Wally,” Kaldur scolded.

“What?” He questioned, seeing how everyone was giving him unimpressed looks, “You all know I still don’t buy into this magical woo-hah babble. I’m a man of science who believes at the end of everything, there’s always a logical explanation.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Oh really,” Your face growing a mischievous smile. “So, can you explain how we’re all fully clothed and you’re standing in your underwear right now?” Everyone missed the slight glow in your irises as you cast your magic in your head.

Wally looked confused before he looked down and realized he was standing only in his underwear, his clothes vanished into thin air with his heart and rainbow-colored boxers on display for everyone.

“What the- Y/N!” He shouted before running off, his face burning red as a tomato while your friends laughed.

Artemis had her hands to her stomach before wiping away a fake tear, “Oh, that was more entertaining than anything I’ve seen in my life. Thank you for that, Y/N,” She grinned.

You gave a mock salute with two fingers while everyone was still laughing when Wally came back, now dressed in a new outfit. Everyone except Conner, who held a glare on his face that you could tell was in your direction. For whatever reason, you didn’t know and chose not to care.

“Why didn’t you invite Y/N on your outing if it was just for guys?” M’Gann asked.

“Because it was a team outing, and despite rumors to the contrary, Y/N is not on the team,” Conner voiced with an indifferent tone.

Your friends all frowned at Conner, not appreciating his sudden attitude toward you. Even Wally looked surprised by his little outburst while Zatanna spoke up in your defense.

“Well, that seems stupid. I wasn’t on the team yet when M’Gann invited me to your school’s Halloween dance. Why should Y/N be any different?” She remarked, crossing her arms. M’Gann nodded in support, her face signaling her disapproval of her boyfriend’s actions.

“We didn’t really think about that. It was more of a decision on the spot when Wally expressed his desire for a bite to eat,” Kaldur explained, with a genuine tone of regret in his posture before turning to face your direction, bowing his head. “My apologies, your Royal Highness. We meant no offense.”

“Speak for yourself,” You heard Conner mutter under his breath.

You ignored it, focusing back on your friend. “Ah, don’t worry about it, Kal. I had fun training here with the girls anyway. And I told you, it’s just Y/N. I’m not the Prince of Amun here, just a regular guy who happens to be bunking with you.” You said. Kaldur smiled in return, appreciating your forgiveness.

“Yeah, a regular guy who needs attendants waiting on him and personal guards always watching his behind,” You heard another snide comment from Conner, who was looking at the two guards standing by the opening to one of the hallways leading into the cave. Your patience also vanished into thin air by this point.

“Conner, that’s enough!” Kaldur ordered, but you were fed up.

“Is there something you need to get off your chest? You’ve been acting pissy with me since I got here, and I’ve had just about enough of it,” You snapped at the Kryptonian.

“Oh, the oh-so-regal prince actually has a backbone? Please…” Conner said, deeming you not worth his time.

“Yeah, the oh-so-regal has a backbone and will happily whoop your ass with it,” You called out after him.

The room went quiet, M’Gann now looking worried as Conner turned around to face you, a jeering expression now on his face.

“Oh really? You’ll ‘whoop my ass,’ huh? Tell me how exactly you plan to do that. With a little song and dance? A show of special effects and illusions. Or will you use your little guards in their shiny armor to fight for you? I could take them and you down without lifting my pinky toe.” He teased, slowly walking towards you until he was standing in your personal space, his arms crossed against his wide chest.

You didn’t have to turn around and see how Atlas and Samar, your two guards in mention, were standing at attention, more than ready to disprove Superboy’s insults. You raised your hands silently, signaling them to stand down. You could take care of yourself.

“Hmm, you may be right about that,” You replied calmly. Everyone except Atlas and Samar looked taken aback at your words. Conner still held a cheeky smirk, even though you could spot his somewhat quizzical look behind his eyes. “So, I’m sure you stand ready to prove it then.”

“Ooooo…” Artemis said, ever the instigator.

“Someone’s getting called out! Whatcha gonna do?” Wally shouted, joining in with the archer.

Though he appeared unphased by your friend's teasing, he considered your words, “Fine, you’re on.” He answered.

A devious smile appeared across your lips, your guards looking at you with knowing grins. Everyone cleared off the combat circle as Kaldur loaded up the sparring protocols. You and Conner stood on opposite sides of the training floor, waiting for Kal’s signal.

“This isn’t going to end well, is it?” You heard Dick ask on the side.

“Nope.” Zatanna said.

The floor brightened beneath you as Kaldur started the program, signaling it was ready.

“Who are you betting on?” Wally asked.

“Oh, Y/N 100%,” Artemis replied.

“I’ll bet you $20 bucks Conner beats Y/N in 15 seconds flat.”

“Hmm, $40 bucks says Y/N knocks out Conner in 10.”

“Deal.” Wally agreed, shaking on it.

M’Gann stood next to Kaldur, watching her boyfriend with a chagrined look. She wasn’t happy with his behavior, becoming suspicious since the team’s mission to Liza during your kingdom’s anniversary celebration and your birthday, leading to your temporary move to Happy Harbor in the Cave after rebels made an attempt on your life.

“Hope I don’t end up as the focus of your next album after this. Though, it’d be nice to say someone’s writing songs about me, even if it’s angry ones.” Conner mocked.

“Oooh, good one Con!” Wally cheered, Artemis rolling her eyes with a scoff.

You didn’t respond, letting him have his fun. You were about to make him eat his words anyway.

“Begin,” Kal said.

You stood in your spot, waiting for Conner to make his move. He cracked his knuckles before charging at you with his usual loud grunt. You side-stepped his attack, leaning and turning on your back foot while swinging your other foot around into his back, sending him flying only to land on his face. Even though he landed outside the battle ring, an interface popped up that spelled his name, and next to it, read the word ‘FAILED’ in red.

“HAH! That’ll be $40 bucks, please.”

You heard Zatanna and Dick clapping behind you while Kal just gave you a nod of approval.

“Looks like you lifted more than your pinky toe. I’m sure you can do better than that tough guy,” You taunted, hearing Atlas and Samar snickering on the side.

Conner pushed himself off the ground, grumbling in frustration before turning around. He huffed in anger before his grimace turned into another smug grin, “Cute. They teach you that in etiquette class?” He mocked.

You returned your own playful smile, “No, actually, Atlas taught me that during one of our combat lessons. You could learn a thing or two from him. Your form is terrible,” You remarked.

You heard the others laughing behind you, Conner’s face going red before he brushed past you, bumping your shoulders, “Let’s go again.” He stated.

“If you insist.”

When Kal signaled to go again, you chose now to charge at Conner, faking him out when he swung at your left. You ducked under his fist, bringing your body down before sticking your leg out to swipe him from under. He fell back against the ground with a grunt, the interface popping up again next to his face announcing his quick failure.

“Samar taught me that one. Hmm, are you sure you’re good at this? Quite frankly, I was expecting more.” You said while standing over him, hands held at your side.

You reset again for a third round. You amused yourself, allowing Conner to believe he was holding out for a bit before you ducked under his fist again, standing back up behind him, pushing your hands on his back to shove him forward.

He almost lost his balance but managed to stay up.

He turned around to see you waving your fingers at him in a teasing manner. He charged at you again while swinging his arms together to trap you in a bear hug. When he got his arms around you, your body broke apart like shattered glass, dissipating into the air.

Conner looked confused until he heard you ‘Yoo-hoo’ behind him, turning to see you launching at him with another kick across the face. He fell to the ground, the interface once again signaling his defeat.

He growled in anger before he looked up to see you standing over him again, “If it makes you feel better, I’ll let you get a hit in.”

He huffed before grabbing your ankle, yanking it out from under you, making you fall on your butt. The interface popped up next to you with your name now signaling the word ‘FAILED.’

“How was that?” His cheeky smile returned.

“Cute. They teach you that in anger management?”

Conner looked confused, “I don’t go to anger management.”

“Clearly.” You responded.

The others expected Conner to blow up at you (the boy did need anger management), but to everyone’s shock, he just smiled at you. Before standing up and reaching his hand down to help you up.

You stared at his hand for a moment before taking it, letting him pull you up to the ground.

You both stared at each other for a bit with no words said until you heard a throat clearing beside you, realizing the team was still here. Artemis smiled knowingly at you while Dick, & Zatanna looked uneasy. Kal scratched the back of his head awkwardly while Wally looked confused. M’Gann held a sullen expression on her face, clearly not happy.

You felt heat come up your face before clearing your throat, “I’m gonna head to the beach to do some meditation. See you guys later.” You said before turning away, your body vanishing in a flash of light. Conner looked confused when he saw you disappear, not understanding what happened. He saw Atlas and Samar shaking their heads at him before heading down the hall towards the garage exit to catch up with you. Still not getting what happened, he turned to see his friends giving him sour looks causing him to frown in return.

“What!”

☀️ | Conner Kent/Superboy | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

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jjkeverlast · 10 months

Note

okay babe, after working my 2 remaining brain cells I have come up with a request for my boyfiii/hubby joonie (joon's whores™️ pls rise up) 🫣 i'd love a childhood bestfriends to lovers, fluff and smut ofc (if inspo hits, maybe a tiny pinch of angst? if not, it's okay 😌) here are some prompts :

Having so many inside jokes that just the two of them know, that other people often don’t understand their humor. “I’m just scared of losing you.” “Don’t think of it as losing, it’s more like evolving. You’re not losing your best friend, you’re getting something extra.”

and you know i'm extra, so here's some visual inspo (honestly, any excuse show off my domestic boyfriend pics 🫣)

okay okay love you to the moon and back 🌝, i am not sorry for the feral sounds that will come out of me once this thing is posted (i will need to be put down) ❤️❤️❤️

about love | knj (m)

>> pairing bestfriend!namjoon x fem!reader

>> genre/au's childhood best friends to lovers | fluff | smut | crack

>> summary during your trip to the aquarium, namjoon blurts out something that creates an unexpected turn to your friendship.

>> word count 2.8k

>> author's note living for the boyfie pics of joon hehe i hope u enjoy this drabble baby. i included everything u mentioned (minus angst lol) i hope u don't fall more in love with joon after reading this sjdfhcsjd

[keep in mind that i do not have taglists for request, and prompts are marked in bold! thank you.]

Sundays meant one thing for you and Namjoon. It’s the day of the week where you both spend time together. This time, it was Namjoon’s turn to pick and usually he would pick an art exhibition or his favorite museum but, surprisingly enough he picked an aquarium.

You hadn’t been to one since you were five years old. It was on a school trip, you and Namjoon being forced to walk side by side and hold hands like the rest. That’s the only thing you remember — oh, and that silly inside joke that got created that day.

There’s something everyone knows about Namjoon. He’s incredibly smart. Ever since he was little he was always infatuated by random but very important facts — as he called them.

You were determined that jellyfishes were called roundy fishes. Which isn’t really a word but you were certain! It made sense to you, and Namjoon laughed when you shrieked how you were extremely excited to see the roundy fishes, until he discovered it was jellyfishes. Afterwards, he had made it his life mission to, one annoy you with the ridiculous name and two, give you every single fact about them.

Till this day, Namjoon still teased you with that.

The aquarium was the one from when you were small, basically where your friendship started to bloom. The thought of you being here with Namjoon almost 20 years later, made you nervous. A good nervous.

On your 20th birthday, you realized you were in love with Namjoon. It wasn’t even a special moment. He was just suddenly holding a silly tiny cake with a few candles and pushing you to make a wish as you blew on them. In that moment you had looked at him and something sparked in your heart. People would call it butterflies, but you called it a spark.

That spark never left. You weren’t exactly planning on ever telling him, his friendship meaning much more to you than ruining it by a confession.

Therefore, you kept it hidden. But, today he’s making it hard. Especially by showing up with a cute white sweater and his glasses.

Fuck.

“Ready to go see some roundy fishes?” Namjoon says, teasing you by knocking his elbow into yours.

“You’re still on that, I see.” You respond, trying to hide your smile as you both walk inside the aquarium.

The blue lights are all over the place, decorations of every living creature hanging on the walls.

Namjoon doesn’t even hesitate, dragging you by the arm directly towards the jellyfish.

You’re stunned by how beautiful they look. They’re moving in slow motion, creating what seems to be a whole different universe behind glass. It almost reminds you of the clumps of lava, floating in a lava lamp after you turn it on and let it sit for a few hours.

Somehow, you’re just standing in silence, admiring them silently while Namjoon stands next to you. He’s not saying anything either, but it’s a comfortable silence. It’s always like this with Namjoon. Just extreme comfort at all times.

You finally decide to turn your head towards Namjoon, noticing how he’s staring at you already. His expression is something you’ve never seen before. You can’t exactly pinpoint what he’s thinking, which is usually your best skill.

“What?” You ask.

“I’m in love with you.” Namjoon blurts out. Your eyes pop open by his words, mouth dropping silently as well.

What did he just say?!

“I—“

Namjoon seems to be getting out of his trance, smacking his lips and returning his gaze on the glass.

“Did you know that jellyfishes are 95% water?” Namjoon changes the subject quickly, spilling out every fact he has on your favorite fish.

“Namjoon.”

“They actually also have really short lifespans.” He continues, ignoring how you called out his name.

“Joonie.”

Namjoon returns his eyes to you. The nickname always does it for him.

“I’m sorry. I was just—“ He tries to explain before you cut him off.

“I’m in love with you, clumsy.”

Namjoon’s expression brings out a huge change. He begins to light up, almost turning the same color as the glowing jellyfishes.

“What.” He breathes out.

“Yeah.” You step closer.

“Holy shit.” Namjoon suddenly says. “You’re serious.” He points out, as if it wasn’t obvious before.

“You’re ridiculous.” You suddenly begin to laugh, your stomach feeling all kinds of weird because what just happened?!

“Wait. Since when have you..” He starts off.

“Since my 20th birthday.” You confess with confidence.

“Ha.” Namjoon chuckles. “I win.”

“Wait what?” You ask in confusion.

“Been in love with you ever since you called jellyfish roundy fishes.”

Fuck. He has got to be kidding.

“Please tell me you’re joking.” You say in disbelief.

“No. Five year old Namjoon was definitely onto something.” He admits, humor laced in his tone.

“Wow.” Your stomach just did a somersault.

“Meaning, he’s been waiting to do something for a really long time.” Namjoon explains, moving closer to you, both of your chests brushing against one another.

“Oh?”

Namjoon smiles, his dimples becoming prominent before he dips his head, his lips about to reach yours until—

“Wait.” You put a hand on his chest, causing his brows to furrow.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m just… scared of losing you.” You admit.

There’s not really anything to be afraid of, you know that. But this is Namjoon. Silly, smart, clumsy Namjoon who’s been by your side for as long as you remember. This is scary. What if you mess up? Then you’ll eventually lose Namjoon and—

“Hey.” Namjoon catches you out of your thoughts.

“Don’t think of it as losing, it’s more like evolving. You’re not losing your best friend, you’re getting something extra.” Namjoon says, lightening up the room and washing every horrible thought away.

You nod, agreeing because he’s not exactly wrong. You’re just about to step into something else, but one thing that will never change is Namjoon being your best friend.

When Namjoon notices how you’re more relaxed, he takes the opportunity to finally kiss you.

It’s like everything around you stops the moment your lips meet. You feel like you’ve floated into a completely different place. Namjoon hesitates with giving you more than a peck, so just as he’s about to pull away, you grab his nape letting them touch again.

The kiss is slow. The kiss is the start of something.

Finally, you pull away. Namjoon can’t stop smiling and your whole body has turned warm.

Now, while you’re watching the jellyfish, Namjoon is holding your hand. They seem to fit so perfectly and your mind hasn’t even processed everything that just happened. But one thing you know for sure, is that you’ve never been happier.

The rest of the day, you walk around, Namjoon telling you everything he knows about each species. But it’s different this time, because each time he gets excited you get the urge to kiss him again and do so.

Namjoon doesn’t stop glowing the whole time you’re there, neither do you.

After a few hours, you both decide to head home. Namjoon sits in the passenger seat while you hum out the song playing on the radio.

When you finally arrive in front of his place, you both pause and look at each other again.

“Do you… want to come in?” Namjoon offers, scratching his neck while asking. A gesture he does when he’s nervous.

“I’d love to.” You seem more calm than he does.

“Oh, okay!” Namjoon gets excited, hurrying himself out of the car while you begin to laugh. You’re so in love with him it has turned ridiculous.

You’ve been in Namjoon’s apartment plenty of times. You could find everything with your eyes closed if you tried. This time, it’s a bit different. The atmosphere is clouded with love, while Namjoon scrambles to make you both some tea.

He’s excited, yes, but nervous too. He’s not the only one, you’re just better at controlling it.

When the tea has been made, you both sit down on his couch. He’s turned a few lamps on, the exposure of light dimmed which creates an oddly romantic vibe. Everything is unplanned. You’re just both living in the moment, talking and chatting about anything that comes to mind, while you play with his hair.

Something starts to shift when Namjoon stops talking about space, and decides to kiss you instead. The kiss is different from the first one. This time you’re both aiming for the same goal. Namjoon still seems hesitant, careful with moving his body closer to yours — which causes you to lead.

You pull Namjoon down on top of you, holding onto his waist as you continue to glide your lips above his. He tastes of peppermint tea, a taste you don’t really seem to mind.

It’s going somewhere you’re both aware of. Normally you would’ve been scared in such a situation, thinking you’re moving too fast but you’ve both been waiting so long for this moment that it doesn’t exactly feel like that.

Namjoon’s lips move from yours down to your neck, biting you gently before replacing it with his wet tongue. He’s really good at this. Fuck.

For the first time you’re already slightly panting by a minor action. It’s more the thought of it being Namjoon doing this, that he’s the one you’re currently making out with on his couch and not some random person from tinder or someone you met at the club. No. This is your best friend. Your other half. The one who’s apparently been in love with you ever since the first day you got to know him.

“I’m loving the extra things I’m getting.” You joke, running your fingers through his long strands while Namjoon giggles against your skin.

“Yeah, good you’re not missing out anymore.” What a cocky bastard.

“Mhm.” You hum, enjoying Namjoon hovering above you a tad bit too much.

“Wait. Are we doing this?” Namjoon pauses, removing his face from your neck. He’s looking at you, raising his eyebrow in question.

You pull him by the belt. “Yeah. We’re doing this.” You confirm, unbuckling his belt while Namjoon chuckles at your lack of patience.

But he’s no better himself, because before you know it he’s working his hands on your zipper, failing miserably but somehow making it work and opening them.

In sync, you both touch each other, groaning by the feeling. Namjoon feels big under your palm and he notices how you’re already wet from just a little hot make out sesh on his couch.

“Shit—“ Namjoon curses, sliding his fingers up and down above the fabric while you’re cupping him.

“Yeah.”

The sensation grows with every touch, a desperation coming to the surface. You’re certain Namjoon is going to fuck you on this couch, but he has other plans.

“Bedroom. Now.” He says in between pants. Too overwhelmed to form an actual sentence because holy shit you’re touching him, at this very moment. This isn’t a silly wet dream, no. This is real life and it’s about to happen.

It looks silly how you both get up so fast, running towards Namjoon’s bedroom as if there’s hidden gold in there. Namjoon closes the door even though he lives alone and you’re already laying down on his bed, waiting for him to join you.

The bed slightly dips when he joins you, grabbing your waist so you’re able to feel every inch of him as he kisses you softly. Your hands shamelessly feel his chest and arms, a weakness of yours when it comes to Namjoon and his body.

You remember the first time you saw him after a while, his shoulders broader and more toned. You tried not to show him how your eyes raked all over his body, checking him out with zero shame. Thankfully, Namjoon was too excited to see you to notice and you’re grateful for that.

But now, you can touch him there. Feel the edges of his muscles without having to wonder what they feel like. Fuck. You were right. They feel like a dream.

Namjoon moans against your lips when your hand moves upwards beneath his shirt, his soft skin burning against yours. You knew he had abs, he’s mentioned once or twice he was doing an abs workout when you’ve called him during his workout hours but— he’s truly ripped. The prominent edges of his abs tense under your touch and your mind is immediately sent into a whirlwind.

You grab onto his waist, moving him to hover above you once more. Although this time, Namjoon presses down on you, giving you a glimpse of how hard he is. He’s barely grazed his covered cock on you, and you’re whining beneath him, pulling him closer to kiss him more roughly.

The sounds Namjoon makes are unreal. He’s groaning softly, but moaning with a raspy tone. It’s almost a bit embarrassing how wet you’ve become by simply dry humping a bit and being blessed by hearing Namjoon enjoying himself above you.

You both go back to groping and touching one another, this time beneath the fabric that stands in the way. Namjoon’s cock feels heavy in your hand, the skin soft and the tip wet. You gain the courage to squeeze his cock gently, causing Namjoon to gasp while he’s dragging out his fingers on your slit.

You tense when Namjoon’s thumb begins to circle on your clit. Namjoon grows a smile at your reaction, continuing as he drags two of his fingers inside of you with ease. He curls them when they’re fully inside, petting your g-spot and making you moan. You return the favor, stroking Namjoon’s cock and squeezing by the tip, circling your thumb over it.

Now the question is, who’s going to give in first?

Namjoon pulls himself upwards, his fingers still inside you, taking his free hand to remove his glasses and place them on the night table. With that, he also reaches for a condom in the drawer.

As he moves downwards, he reconnects his lips with yours. The kiss is wet, messy and hot. It only makes you more excited to finally have sex with Namjoon.

You’re both moaning, moving your bodies in sync, in search of friction but nothing will beat Namjoon being inside of you. The lack of patience starts to show for you when you pull his pants and boxers till mid thigh. His cock springs free, moving closer to your core. Namjoon pulls out his fingers, grabbing onto his cock and makes eye contact with you.

You nod to his silent question, resulting in Namjoon to pull your pants and underwear completely off. You expect for Namjoon to get on with it, but instead he moves closer, grinding down on your naked core. His cock slips in between your lips, letting you feel him fully.

“Shit—” You gasp, overwhelmed by how good it feels.

“Yeah, baby.” Namjoon says in agreement, mouth slack as he continues to move. If he continues, you’re certain you can come like this.

“Joonie, please.” You bite your lip, preventing a moan from escaping your lips. “Need you.” You mumble against his skin.

You have never in your life seen Namjoon hurry as much as he does right now. He almost falls down on you, too excited to put on a condom. Luckily, he manages quickly, the condom sliding down with ease.

With that, Namjoon circles his tip by your entrance, teasing you a bit. It causes you to move your hips, trying to aim for his cock but you fail. Namjoon bites back a smile, and carefully he starts to thrust, sliding with ease. The stretch feels incredible.

After a few shallow thrusts, Namjoon manages to settle. He takes a second to enjoy how you feel wrapped around him before beginning to move.

Holy fucking shit. Namjoon thrusts like a God. You’re already on edge, barely having him inside of you but you feel yourself coming close to an orgasm.

Namjoon picks up a fast pace, grabbing both your hands and intertwining your fingers, settling them above your head. He gasps against your lips, biting down on them whenever you clench around him.

“You feel like a fucking dream.” Namjoon pants, smiling down on you. Your skin grows hot by his compliment, nearing an end.

With a few more thrusts from Namjoon, your back arches, a highly pitched moan slipping as you come undone all over him. Not long after, Namjoon’s cock twitches inside of you, spilling into the condom with a groan.

You both lay in each other’s arms, skin sweaty and warm. Namjoon pulls out with ease, tossing the condom in a bin before moving back towards you. He lays in your arms and your hands move upwards to his hair. He hums in satisfaction, loving how your fingers feel scraping his scalp.

“What do you want for breakfast tomorrow?”

You pause, surprised he’s asking such a thing.

“Why are you asking this when you can’t even boil an egg?” Namjoon gasps in offense, while you start to laugh over how ridiculous he is.

“It was worth a try.” He says, giving a small peck to your neck.

Kim Namjoon will be the death of you.

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