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hwajin · 2 years

Text

𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱 — !# : scb

genre: smut, fluff, au

pairing: barista!changbin x fem!reader

synopsis: you didn't expect a barista working in your favourite coffee to blow you off your shoes. you'd only later see how fate would bring you together.

warnings: very slow burnish smut, lots and lots of teasing, unprotected sex, rlly kinda soft tho <3

wc: 6k

note: this is my contribution to my own collab LMAO. i did try smth new with this one so don't mind this being slightly out of place ksdfh, i hope you like it nevertheless tho! thanks to everyone who's participating in this, it truly means so much that some ppl wanted to be part of this hehe, i'll tag all the participants CUZ YOU GOTTA CHECK THEM OUT OR ELSE 😤🔪

@spookybias @seo--changbin @sunnyville36 @jenna-skzooma @aliceoracleollormusic @es-kay-zee @joonszn @freckledwinterfalls @kookthief @yunkiwii @chans-starlight

not my pics, credits to owner

"Shit, shit, shit..."

Your legs had a mind of their own making their hurried steps through the packed station - men and women in suits and blazers, students with worn faces and the one or other stray dog meeting your way - and you still registered the faint whistle of the train that you had left just seconds ago, though the small buds in your ears were offing outside noises almost entirely.

You didn't plan to oversleep on the first day back to college, after two calm weeks of enjoying some free time during the winter holidays. Since you were lucky with your professors this semester - none of them expectant of their students to work and study their asses off during Christmas - you have gotten comfortable over the past 14 days, your mind blocking out the fact that you were supposed to get back to setting alarms every morning, causing you to sleep in and missing the last possible train that would have gotten you to your destination on time. You cussed yourself out some more internally, calves already aching some due to the fast tempo you have set for yourself, passing by strangers hastily. Strangers that all looked the same to you, with their same black suitcases, the same frowns on their faces. Talking on the phone, seemingly distressed, head and thoughts far up in their jobs. You wondered, sometimes, when you inspected them like this, on your way to college and back, if you'll end up like one of them. If you'll ever lose yourself and decide for a path that was convenient, rather than going after your plans, your dream you might say.

A slight shake to your head tore you out of your never ending thoughts, quickly deciding that now surely wasn't the appropriate time to let your mind get clouded with worries about your long term future, the nervousness of reaching class as soon as it was currently possible occupying you enough already. You meandered your way through the packed crowds while you passed one store after another, "open" and "closed" signs in windows passing your peripheral vision, the smell of coffee suddenly infiltrating your nosestrills.

Coffee. While the reasonable part of your brain started calculating how many minutes you'd lose waiting in line to get one cup of hot, refreshing coffee, your feet already dragged you towards one of your favourite coffee shops, the familiar jingling from the bells at the top of the entrance door ringing in your ears, a smile automatically forming on your lips. You loved how welcoming this place was, large windows on every side letting sunshine flood the warm, ebony wood with its shimmery rays, the sweet aroma of baked goods and freshly brewed drinks giving a homely feeling. The café wasn't all too big, only a couple of tables and chairs standing around neatly, though you barely ever saw other customers around this place.

You walked up to the counter, already expecting to greet the barista you knew was working the morning shifts on weekdays, the poor girl always looking tired and exhausted, yet never skipping on initiating small talk with you, their most regular guest. But you were taken by surprise when you locked eyes with a to you unknown employee, one that you've never seen around before. He gave you an inviting smile, his cheeks cutely puffing up in the process. His messy hair fell around his sharp face, bangs just short enough to not cover his eyes.

"Morning, what can i get for you?"

He was attractive, you couldn't lie. His voice was low, a raspy undertone lying in it, and you needed a couple of seconds before you remembered what you were here for, before you could process his question. It was unusual for you to be this taken aback by a complete stranger, and yet it couldn't be held against you, not with the way this man was looking at you, expectantly, questioning eyes laced with curiosity. You converted your eyes off his, looking at the big menu boards behind him - as unnecessary as it was since you never changed you order here, but you needed somewhere else to look at to be able to sort your thoughts - and you took a quick second to clear your throat before answering.

"Oh, uhm- just a coffee to go, please, and..."

You inspected the bakings that were laid out in the glass showcase, the fancy names and goldish-brown pastries filled with strawberries or chocolate making your mouth water. You didn't get the time to have a proper breakfast, so you decided a quick snack to eat in uni wasn't that bad of an idea. You decided for something that looked close to a baked apple turnover, pointing towards it.

"...and one of those, please."

You gave the man in front of you a smile which he returned, once again making your heart skip a beat. He continued to give you a small nod as to silently tell you he understood and got your order, proceeding to take a pair of tongs and a paper bag to prepare one half of what you have told him moments prior, and while he leaned forward you took the opportunity to catch a glimpse of the name tag clipped to his white shirt. 'Changbin'. A simple yet pretty name, you thought. You'd imagine it sounding nice coming from your mouth, rolling over your tongue before escaping your lips and for a second you debated whether or not to actually, call him by his name, point it out, maybe, or somehow sprinkle it in for when you'll say goodbye. A really bad shot at flirting, yes, but after all he sparked something in you you'd never expected, and letting him know of your interest might after all be the only shot you got with the barista.

"You want a large, medium or small one?"

His voice ended your strain of thoughts, the words making little sense to you, though. You gave the man behind the counter questioning eyes, the early hours not necessarily making you understand nor process things at hand any bit faster. He smirked at you, glancing down for just a moment before his eyes found yours again, and you weren't fully sure but you found something new in his expression. Mischief, maybe.

"The coffee, I mean. Which size do you want?"

The smirk never leaving his face it only now clicked what he was referring to - directly and indirectly -, and you felt your skin growing hotter, a deep blush painting your cheeks and your nose bridge, up to your ears. You gave yourself a mental slap across the face, hurrying to finally answer his question to save some of the awkwardness you had to bear out at this point.

"Oh I'm sorry uh- a large one. Please. Thank you."

You heard the barista huff out air through his nose, as if amused, an eyebrow raised and his narrow eyes subtly but surely running up and down your figure for just a second - you'd had missed it, almost - before he nodded, speaking a quick "alright" before turning around to get your order done. Your scrunched your nose up in embarrassment while his back was facing you, the coffee machine drowning out nearly ever other sound, allowing you to breathe in and out somewhat heavily, the man behind the counter making you a flustered mess. You used the time to check your phone quickly, a wave of shock running through your bones seeing how late you were running. Honestly, you have given up at this point; considering you were late anyways, no matter how fast you'd run or walk, you saw no use in hurrying anymore. You let out a defeated, long breath, stuffing your phone back into your pocket and converting your eyes back to the dripping deep black liquid, able to tase the bitterness on your tongue already.

"What, having a hard morning?"

Upon hearing your sigh Changbin must have figured your distress, and you shrugged your shoulders slightly when the man gave you a quick look.

"Ahh, I'm just running late to classes, that's it."

While the barista broke out into a fit of giggles, back still facing you as he poured the hot drink into a beige paper cup, hands working quickly and confidently, you noticed how build he was, lines of muscles and veins visible underneath his thin white shirt. Another blush covered your features, and you gave yourself another mental slap across the face.

"And yet you take time to get some coffee? You know, you should be more responsible about your studies."

Changbin turned around with the finished cup, eyebrows raised and a teasing seriousness lacing his tone as he said those words, eliciting a chuckle from you. You were unsure as to how you should be continuing the conversation, his eyes piercing through you as he simply smiled, prepping your ready order on top of the counter. It seemed like he didn't expect an answer from you, though, your chuckle apparently enough for him as he let you know how much you owed him, waiting for you to clumsily fiddle after your wallet in the way to heavy bag you were carrying. You didn't take notice, but his eyes were on you the whole time, smile not fading for one second - as if painted onto his face - as he took in your whole, the way you moved, a bit helpless but so easily, carelessly almost that he couldn't help but wanting to know you closer. Finally, you had the money in your hands, apologizing that you'd had only brought cash with you, but tipping him a good amount in return before you took the paper bag and cup, smiling a last goodbye, exchanging a last quick look until you disappeared through the entrance door, eventually vanishing in between crowds in far distance, Changbin's smile fading slowly the further you moved. You, on the other hand, couldn't shine any brighter, the corners of your lips reaching from one ear to the other as you continued making your way to school, already anticipating another visit at the café.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Though you finally reached class – a sea of eyes skimming you for just seconds when you entered the room much too late, but neither the professor nor the students bothered enough to not pick up where they were interrupted straight away – but you’d lie saying you were concentrated in the slightest. You knew you’d be daydreaming nevertheless after the encounter at the coffee shop, but apparently the man behind the counter had even more charm and interest in you then you would have guessed at first; because on your cup that now had rests of lukewarm coffee in it you could read the words “text (or call) me if you… want some more coffee. or want to talk more. or… anything else ;)”, with his phone number written right below in neat handwriting, one that you’d imagine him to have. And yet you were indecisive. Wouldn’t texting him right away come off as desperate? Shouldn’t you wait a bit at least, until your day in school ended and you were home again? On the other hand, he must be anticipating a text, given he was the one asking for further contact.

It took you a little more internal debating until the lesson was done and over within seconds, it felt like, and sitting in the train that was destined to bring you home your mind did not give you a break, the constant back and forth between wanting to seem hard to get, at least, or not occupying your thoughts. You should have just somehow slipped your number onto the café’s counter, you thought, so the decision, the anxiety of sending a very first text to someone you knew basically nothing about, wouldn’t have to lay on you right this moment. Your shook yourself back to reality, letting your phone slide into the pocket of your slightly big jacket, figuring that simply holding and staring at it any longer wouldn’t help you out necessarily. You wiped your hands on your jeans for a second, trying to get rid of the film of sweat that has formed on them, before ruffling through your hair, trying to keep yourself distracted. You knew it was for nothing, though, you knew yourself well enough to figure out that you’d have a sleepless night ahead of you if you didn’t decide what to do with the number on the cup as soon as possible, if you didn’t make up your mind on what the smartest and least awkward message would be.

You looked to your left, being taken aback for just a second at the speed the landscapes – trees, bushes, the one or other stray animal on a farm – was moving past you, but soon finding peace in the view. You allowed it to distract you for a while, your eyes skimming over houses and cars and vast fields hurriedly, before suddenly, a part of your brain as though switched on a light bulb, your phone already in your hands again while you rummaged around in your bag, in hopes of finding the empty cup. A smile danced around your lips as you typed in his number with quick hands, setting a simple “changbin” as his name, and sending a simple “hey :)” for a message.

⋆ .. ✦ .. ⋆

…delivered

…read

…typing

⋆ .. ✦ .. ⋆

changbin: ahhh, so you’re not from here?

you: nope, sadly

changbin: sadly? might there… be a reason you’d wanna be from here for 👀

You almost didn’t want to admit to how well the conversation with Changbin was going. He was cracking so many bad jokes that you almost forgot you were still sitting on a public train, trying to refrain yourself from simply giggling at his texts, like some teenager in love. And yet you couldn’t help yourself, nor did you really care with how sweet he was, how simple it felt talking to him.

And he was witty, too. He truly had a way with words that you didn’t quite expect, somehow masked behind his boyish and cutely awkward-ish persona, making you smirk, blush almost before you brainstormed a possible, just as witty response, though being taken aback.

you: hmmm well… the coffee there’s pretty good ig :)

You smiled slightly to yourself upon seeing the small …typing right under his name appear and disappear over and over again, before another of his messages finally reached you.

changbin: mhh i see, so it’s the coffee for you. if you like it that much how about we meet up and drink one together? i know this RLLY nice place, one of their baristas makes out of this world coffee i swear

changbin: maybe you’ll end up liking him more than the coffee tho :))

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

When Changbin mentioned this, as he called it, REALLY nice place you imagined meeting him in the café he works at, where you have met the first time, grabbing a drink together and talking for a while, getting to know each other while the turmoil outside, passengers and kids and dogs and cars, would barely be noticeable, for neither of you. You soon figured out that with the REALLY nice place Changbin, in fact, meant his very own four walls, the apartment he lived in. And, he did not lie, the place was nice. It was quite spacey, but you noticed it was the bright and minimalized interior that made the place look bigger than it was. It was welcoming, soft, neutral colours of beige and hints of olive-green painting walls and carpets that shone beautifully when rays of sunshine hit them, every corner clean, but not to a point of weirdness. You could, throughout all the rooms he’s showed you, still sense that hint of personality that you see in other people’s houses, could still build this idea around him, seeing the way he was living.

“So uhm- what do you think?”

You couldn’t hold back the laughter upon the sight in front of you, seeing the man pout almost immediately when he heard your giggles. You had figured it would be nice to bring him some sort of present when you went to meet him – though you’d debated day and night whether or not it would seem out of place – but you had decided to go for an apron, the cheap ones you see in supermarkets, that have terrible designs on them that it’s almost funny again. And you were right with your decision, striking Changbin as the humorous guy who definitely would catch onto the joke wasn’t a bad guess after all, the man laughing at the cloth you had given him when you entered his place.

Your laughter only continued with Changbin pretending to be deeply hurt, his back facing you as he was preparing the coffee he has promised you over text, looking over his shoulder from time to time only to give you a salty look, so you don’t dare forget that he doesn’t like to be made fun of. Every time his face went back to his kitchen counter, though, you saw a little smirk playing around the edges of his lips, one that he tried to hide while jokingly nagging and playing around. He enjoyed teasing you.

It was getting slightly harder to keep joking around with Changbin, was getting a bit more difficult to laugh at him for his scoffs or comments he made. Not because you lost the fun, not because you were getting bored, whatsoever. You simply, physically, could barely concentrate on anything but this particular smirk of his, his eyes squinting at you, one corner of his mouth raising, before he turned back around. And even then, your eyes had a mind of their own when they went on their journey up and down his body, the very back you have already had checked out in the café a couple of days back, that you have already mustered once still setting off a fluttery feeling in your stomach, just like on the first day you saw him. It was especially when he moved, muscles flexing and relaxing naturally, that you thought you’d lose your composure, or when his shoulders, broad and large, perked up through the shirt from time to time. But it was also when he turned around fully, the hot drinks finally ready, and your eyes landed on his chest for an embarrassing moment before locking eyes with him again. And it was only a second, a second of him catching you unprepared and shamelessly staring, and yet he noticed. He noticed and he liked it. He enjoyed the way you stuttered at him with your ears turning red involuntarily, he enjoyed how you found your cool so quickly again, taking the cup he had reached out to you as if nothing really happened, as if you genuinely believed he hasn’t seen how your yes converted right when he faced you. And he debated if he wanted to make a comment about it. He so badly would want to risk it, would want to blur out his thoughts and see if you’d go with it, if you’d play along and see where things could end. And yet it was a risk after all, and he didn’t know you enough to surely figure out how you ticked, yet. While, at the same time, also in thoughts, you were wondering where this would lead, this somehow odd situation.

There was this tension both of you felt, though both of you were afraid to cut through it. And yet, both of you knew that the other sensed it as well; it was impossible not to. You sipped away at your coffee, almost never breaking eye contact with Changbin as he took off his apron, shirt underneath creased up, hair messy. He hung it up on a rack that was screwed to a shelf, the cloth somehow fitting so well into the little kitchen that he had, belonging right there next to various pans and bowls and fruits and tableware. Changbin was soon back at having his attention on you, his arm reaching out to grab his own cup of freshly brewed coffee, his veins and muscles and dips too prominent for your liking, once again.

“Is the coffee good?”

The only sound breaking the silence besides Changbins words were some curtains sliding across the wooden floor as the wind hit the window Changbin has opened prior, the fresh air cooling your heated face, if only little.

“Mhm, it’s really good. But uh-“

Your heart pounded as you started your sentence, watching as the man’s expression changed to a questioning one, anticipating your next words, scared you somehow didn’t like it, that something was missing. You took another sip before continuing, foot tapping against the chair in a nervous manner.

“You uh- were right. I did end up liking the barista more.”

You were a sucker at flirting, so naturally, you could only wish away the blush that crept up on your face, and it needed all your willpower to keep the steady eye contact with Changbin, to not shy away now, when you were the guilty one for finally breaking the tension. While you silently wished he understood the hint, that he knew what you meant, a smug grin already overplayed Changbins features, his eyes travelling down to the floor, for a short while only, until connecting with yours again. But this time he looked at you differently, expression in his eyes fitting his teasing smirk, and you hoped, repeated it in your head as if praying, that he has caught onto you. Changbin took a step closer to you, closing the distance between the both of you scarcely any, his cup of coffee standing behind him as though abandoned.

“Hmm, don’t you think that barista deserves some kind of- tip then? When you liked him that much?”, he whispered, almost.

It was strange, truly, how calm you could present yourself although you felt shakier than a nervous wreck internally. Knowing yourself you would fold shortly with the stare the man had on you, lustful, but not the amount that would scare you, and interest, curiosity, just the right portion to anticipate him as much as he did. And yet you set there on his kitchen stool, gaze never missing to match his, back straight, seemingly keeping your cool.

“Well, I don’t have money with me…”

You watched as he continued stepping closer to you, and you finally set down your own cup that you have forgotten to drink out of with the atmosphere getting tighter, and you stood up, finally meeting his height.

“…but I’d know another way to pay you.”

Damn it. Flirting simply wasn’t your strong point, and you only now heard how your words sounded, almost desperate and awkwardly out of place, but you couldn’t take them back, not after blurting them out into the room like this. All the calmness and composure you had started to fade out of you, and the well know blush of yours painted your face once again. You were ready to stutter out an apology, were ready to say that you didn’t mean to come off as someone looking to prostitute yourself, but your brain shut down at Changbins sudden chuckling. It was teasing, a tinge of amusement lacing his voice. He was now as close as he could be without rudely invading your personal space, but near enough to get your body to shiver a bit, for your nerves to tickle.

“Another way to pay me? Now that sounds interesting, don’t you think?”, he tsked at you, head cocked to the sight, and he let out another fit of chuckles when your face only reddened further. And, anew, you were taken aback by him. He didn’t have the reaction you expected, a raised brow maybe with a look of confusion, a harsh change of subject followed by embarrassment by your miserable try to be seductive. And, anew- it seemed like he enjoyed it. Enjoyed teasing you, enjoyed having caught you in a state of flusteredness, no matter how bad you wanted to overplay it.

“Don’t you wanna show me what you meant by it, hm? I’d love to see.”

His voice was dark, the natural raspiness thicker than it was moments prior, and yet you heard a sense of softness in it, sending you into orbit. You wished, almost prayed internally, that he would blow off the whole thing with his playfully smart demeanour, that he’d simply leave you hot and bothered. Hell, after all you weren’t sure what you meant with your words; a simple kiss, something more? His attractiveness got to you, you couldn’t lie, his smirking and teasing and subtle flirting making you think he may be wanting the same thing you wanted. And after all, what if he didn’t? What if you thought and acted all too quickly, misinterpreting him entirely? You were strangers, only met recently, you might have gotten it all wrong, from the very beginning.

But Changbin took just one step closer to you, the intimacy almost uncomfortably tangible now. Almost. You saw his nearly fully black eyes wander across your face, skimming your features before resting at your lips. His own ones were so neatly formed, as if someone has sculptured them on their very own, that it was hard for you to not stare them down. One of his hands almost reached your cheek, stopping just right before touching you. He looked up at you with eyes pleading, lips opening to ask a short “Can I?”, orbs travelling down to your lips again, anticipating an answer. You breathed out a “Yes, please.” and it weren’t seconds, even, when you finally felt his warmth against you, hand on your face and lips on yours. It was slow at first, your movements and actions, as if both of you needed to adjust to each other, to somehow get to know the other better, with time. But you soon got closer, your hand slowly sneaking to rest by his shoulder, squeezing the muscles whenever he bit down on your lower lip experimentally, his own hand drawing circles onto your waist while holding you steadily, letting you melt into him. The wind from outside set into action as if purposefully, breathing a fresh, late-wintery breeze your direction, your heated bodies cooling, if only externally.

Changbin leaned back, revealing puffed lips, redder than before, and he breathed against you heavily. You gave him a quick, almost unnoticeable peck, catching him off guard just before a giggle rolled past his mouth. His demeanour has shifted, shyness drawing his body now as well, and it was impossible for you to not soften at the sight. Though you weren’t any better, having him this close to you, seeing Changbin looking at you the way he was; you felt giddy all over, like a child on Christmas.

“You wanna take this to the bedroom?” A whisper only, and it took him a nod and smile from you to have him picking you up, your legs wrapping around his torso, while he reached said room with every quick step, until you finally felt steadiness underneath you again, the soft mattress of his bed pressing against your back. You surely knew why Changbin picked this room to sleep in when first moving into his apartment; the way the windows were placed on the walls allowed natural light to flood the four walls nearly all hours of the day, the current sunset looking especially breathtaking. You only imagined how the sunrises looked from his bed every morning. Though you might find out.

You watched as the man took of his shirt, and not even the tight apron from before could have prepared you for what you were blessed to see that moment. His body was buff, a direct consequence of his many workouts he has told you about, and yet had an elegant swing to it, curved at just the right places, dipping perfectly for your hands to start tingling, at the thought of touching him alone. God, how badly you wanted to touch him. And it’s as if he knew, moving towards you to get rid of the distance between the both of you once again, connecting his lips with yours just like he did the first time around, more secure and steady this time, though, pressing you only further into the softness of the sheets. They smelled like him, the subtle sniff you have sensed ever since meeting him intensified now, intoxicating your mind. Your hands settled on his shoulder first, initially afraid to move them farther down his body, but soon finding the confidence to slide them across his arms, only to find out they were quite the sensitive part of his. Changbin grunted out quietly at your nails dragging at his defined proportions, and he let his own hands explore you, your body, the way they wanted. And your lips never once disconnected from the other, the first shyness and unsureness you held, the first feeling of having to getting to know each other was long gone now, seemingly, as you moved in perfect sync, as if you knew the other for decades. It was until Changbin reached your waist, fingertips dancing to get under your shirt, that he leaned back again, that he let the both of you breathe, even if for seconds. It was a silent question, his eyes telling you enough to have you nodding, arching your back against him while he took of your shirt, lips immediately finding your collarbones. You whined out quietly, wanting to hold back your desperateness but failing as Changbin kept nibbling away, at you neck and shoulders and ears, covering your most sensitive parts with purple and red and blueish love bites, your nails dragging up and down his back, possible to leave scratches the next day. Changbin only pulled back to let his lips find yours again, for his hands to travel further south your body, delicate fingers grazing over your elicited skin, drawing shivers out of you with every touch. You let your hands travel over his abs, tracing every dipping line on your way, making him breathe out heavily against you, making him visibly lose his composure. And you touched down, and further down, loving to see the way Changbin pulled away from you, how he looked at you with eyes big and wanting, until you got a hold of his belt accentuating his hips, your gaze piercing through him.

“Can I?”

And screw it, you couldn’t have imagined that the response he gave you would weaken you oh so much, his breathy voice, the words “Yes, fuck- please, yes.” almost drawing out a whine out of you. Never had you had anyone begging for you. Not someone you just met.

Your impatient fingers unbuckled his belt, the bulge in his jeans looking so painful you wanted nothing more than relieving him from it. Changbin helped you remove the belt while you worked at his buttons, and he shuffled down the restrains while you got rid off your own clothes, only your bra keeping you from full nudeness. And it was almost as if you were addicted to the other, as if neither of you could control themselves with the way your lips clashed together again, impatiently, giddily almost, hungry hands back to roaming the others body. You felt Changbins careful fingers dragging down your stomach, reaching your stomach, squeezing down at your thighs. Teasing at everything expect where he knew you needed him, knew you wanted him so badly. You whined out, not thinking that words would come out even remotely understandable out of your mouth, so you pushed your hips against him to make him understand, to hint at him that you craved his touch, that you were dying to feel him, finally. But you only felt him smirking against you while pushing your legs apart, only for him to tease you yet closer to your core, digging his short nails into your inner thighs.

“You want something, baby?”

God, he knew what he was doing. And he loved it, too. Loved how your back arched again at his words, how you looked up at him with your brows scrunched together just slightly, how you tried keeping your sounds to yourself, not wanting him to hear you. You sensed that if you didn’t answer him, though, you wouldn’t get what you wanted, figured that with the tease he was- he wanted to hear you, hear you begging and pleading for him.

“Touch me, please. I need it- need you.”

And you were right, predicted him correctly since his fingers dipped into your wetness just moments after, a content hum leaving his throat while he watched you intently, fingers sliding against you, in hopes of finding that one spot, that had you moaning out and pleading for more. And he knew he found it when your back raised off the mattress, when your hands, always wrapping around his arms, or laying on his shoulders, squeezed him tightly, leaving crescent moons on his skin. And yet he only shortly circled at your clit, only enough to get you worked up that bit more, before his fingers dipped southwards, prodding at your entrance teasingly, watching your face, in case your expression changed. But the plead you let roll off your tongue gave him the get go, and he inserted one of his fingers into you, your walls snugging against him so perfectly he couldn’t help but whine out, wishing for so much more. The sun outside set further with every passing second, painting the room in vividly colours and it didn’t take long before a second and third finger entered you, and Changbin made sure to move them just the right way, to curve them up against you just perfectly to prepare you for him, to have you as comfortable as possible.

Because when his tip teased at your entrance, before slowly moving inside of you, you could feel how girthy he would be. How painfully good the stretch would feel when he bottomed out, finally - and you were right. You weren’t able to hold back the moan that rolled off your tongue when Changbin finally settled inside you fully, his own sounds right next to your year not helping your neediness in any way while he gave you time to adjust to his length. Only when you tapped his shoulder, nodding at him silently he started moving, pulling out until you only felt his tip inside you, before sliding in fully again, bottoming out a second time, only to repeat the same movements over and over. And with every slow stroke that hit your deepest spot every time, with every light nibble he left here and there on your skin, stars covered your vision more and more, and you felt yourself so much closer to fall off the edge with every passing second, as bad as you wanted to keep this moment lasting. But you felt how Changbin wasn’t any better, though his hips stayed the same rhythm his movements grew faster, and his sounds – although quiet – grew more frequent, the one or other praise leaving his lips, making you pull him closer to you. You were moving in sync, both your minds so clouded in the pleasure, in each other, or in wanting to reach that high together, you weren’t sure yourself. The deep reds and oranges and yellows that painted the sky hit the bedroom, the last rays of sunshine of the day illuminating your sweat-glistening skin, while your hands grabbed at each other with want, with lust, while you moved and moved, back and forth, hips and legs tired but chasing nevertheless, until finally, with a couple of last precise strokes into you, both of you almost simultaneously let go, let the orgasm wash over your bodies in a harsh wave, making you collapse against the other. And soon the room was filled with shyness again, the post pleasure state getting to you and making you giggle and chuckle at the other, while the sun finally set behind the clouds, setting the world to darkness.

tagging: @etherealeeknow @linoskitty @unexceptional-h @rseanne @diue @es-kay-zee @urcracksisx @jeyelleohe @yunkiwii @meloohmel @nyrasneedy @seochhj @imagineinnie

let me know if you wanna be removed or added to taglist!

#winterfallscollab #changbin smut #changbin scenarios #changbin imagines #changbin x reader #skz smut #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader

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kingdarkstalker · 2 years

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I can see your points, and I understand a lot of what your saying, it’s just that your missing a few points, all of the hivewings are literally indoctrinated at birth, even without their parents choice. They don’t have a choice. I can get your points, and the whole, “oh this is a good hivewing,” is annoying and shit, it’s just that the reason why cricket is so concerned over the other hivewings is because that’s her family, and her friends, her entire species, and they don’t have a choice in if they want to attack her and her friends or not because they’re mind controlled.

Due to how they were raised it’s what they believe is right even if from a outsiders perspective it’s very wrong. They don’t know what they’re doing is bad and that’s a problem yes, but cricket knows and she can still care for the hivewings cause that’s her family. It’s like completely deciding that your going to drop everything about a family member you’ve loved for years and try not to explain to them how that’s bad. I can get that not explaining it is easier, and most of the time it’s the best option but some people are just uneducated. We’ve had numerous instances of hivewings and silkwings caring for eachother despite it being “wrong” by the hivewings upper class. I’m not trying to be a hivewing sympathizer, I’m just saying theres evidence proving both arguments about hivewings. To me the hivewing upper class is biased cause it benefits them more, and the lower class just simply sees it as normal cause they were raised that way. It doesn’t mean that they can’t be educated on something that’s clearly wrong. You gotta remember that Queen Wasp probably would’ve controlled the silkwings too if she was able to. I haven’t read the new book yet so I don’t know how it goes but this is my take on the situation.

i definitely get where youre coming from, and in a better written story this would be the kind of nuance that id actually applaud

unfortunately tui sutherland isnt really good at exemplifying the cultish upbringing of facism in the sense that she lumps in the children and young adults of the hivewings that had/have nothing to do with the general state of things, with the full on older adult hivewings who not only are Completely Complicit in owning slaves (which by the way, no amount of propaganda makes excuseable to anyone with empathy) but also participated in the genocide of the leafwings, AND are just like. literally racist

like theres a point where you grow up and realize whats happening around you is wrong. uncritically absorbing propaganda to the point where owning slaves is just "normal" to you means that you are no longer the victim of the culture that raised you, but youre making the choice to continue to contribute to said culture

and like, therin lies the problem, because tui sutherland doesnt present a narrative difference between these two kinds of hivewings. instead, literal children are grouped with literal slave owners as if theyre comparably sympathetic situations, and has cricket annoyingly whine that "no hivewings at ALL should be killed or hurt" just because ~wasps mind controlling them~

hope thatmade sense, i just woke up

#msg #wings of fire #tui sutherland

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honeymoonjin · 4 years

Text

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 11.1k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

Sick of unsatisfying hookups, boring relationships or the company of your own hand? Apply today for the chance to be on bangasm.com’s very first reality show! Seven attractive young gentlemen will be vying for your choice of who is best in bed. All from different backgrounds, these men claim they’ll be able to rock your world, so don’t hesitate! Apply now!

Congratulations! You’ve been accepted as the Lady in the first season of The Gentlemen.

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: voyeurism, exhibitionism, filmed sex, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), big dick namjoon serving us tripod realness, dom!joon, and when i say dom i mean both dominant AND domestic : ), impregnation kink, daddy kink, praise, dom!jimin, sub!reader in both of these scenes, lingerie kink (m wearing), copious teasing, very light spanking, french kissing, lapdance, the jimin scene is filthier than the tags give it credit for ngl, oral (m receiving), cum swallowing/eating, aftercare (as always)

banner designer @jamaisjoons | thank you everyone in the sfhs server, you bring me so much joy, motivation and good ideas | AND finally thank you to the anon that suggested [redacted] jimin i legit replanned everything just to make that his prompt

DAY TWELVE

The mattresses in the room of bunk beds are surprisingly comfortable. The metal springs squeak a little if you move too much, but you wake up feeling well-rested.

“Not too bad, right?” Hoseok chirps, swinging out on the ladder and jumping down onto the floor with a thud. Using his laundry from the day before, he unceremoniously swaps his sleep shirt and boxers for some deep green skinny jeans and an orange sweater. Namjoon, more modest and distinctly more sleepy, grabs his clothes and stumbles back to his own room.

“The beds? Better than I was expecting for sure.”

Hoseok smiles warmly as you hop down the ladder and arrive on steady ground again, toes curling into the carpet. He fiddles quickly with a chunky watch, doing up the links. “Breakfast is downstairs if you want it.”

You throw him a teasing grin. “Not if you’re making it, thanks.”

He has the good graces to pretend to be offended, before tugging you into a playful side-hug, ignoring your squeak of surprise. “No, you cheeky fucker, Jungkook bought pancake mix. He texted me saying there’s plenty for everyone.”

“Jungkook making breakfast?” you ask dubiously, but the warm image of pancakes for breakfast makes your stomach growl. “Let me get dressed real quick and I’ll come down.”

Jungkook, it seems, is starting out the day cheerful as ever. He gives you a big grin when you, Namjoon and Hoseok come down for breakfast, and he makes sure to dish up the biggest pancakes for you, before taking the second biggest for himself.

Jin raises a teasing brow when you come down accompanied by the two men, Namjoon still with his hair ruffled up awkwardly from his slumber. “Long night?” he questions with a cheesy wink.

Hoseok catches on to the teasing nature, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Sadly, Namjoon wanted a rest day, so we didn’t enjoy any funny business.”

Jungkook watches the three of you closely, lips tightening just a little bit before he breaks out into a cheeky smile. “I think Y/n would have been too tired out to do anything more anyway.”

You choke on air, a forkful of pancakes blessedly not in your mouth yet. Beside you, Hoseok chuckles awkwardly. “Goodness, JK, we heard enough yesterday. The gym walls are not as thick as they should be.”

Instead of blushing like you are, Jungkook puffs his chest up. “I’ve never heard Y/n scream like that with any of you guys. Then again; I bet you haven’t made her squirt like I did.”

This time you aren’t so fortunate, coughing on a mouthful that you’d anxiously stuffed in to keep yourself occupied. You send Yoongi a grateful look as he slides you a glass of water.

“Jesus, Jungkook,” Jin grimaces, “we’re trying to eat breakfast.”

You keep your eyes down, confused by Jungkook’s behaviour and more than a little embarrassed.

When you hear Namjoon speak up, his voice is strangely tensed. “That’s really not appropriate.”

A heated pause. “This is literally a porn show,” Jungkook states defensively, “sex is the whole reason we’re here. I think everyone’s forgetting this is a competition about being the best in bed, I’m just- You know what, never mind, pretend I didn’t say anything.”

“You just what?” Namjoon questions. It’s unlike him to be argumentative, and you shift in your seat, taking another sip of the ice-cold water. “Did you really make us all pancakes just so you could gloat? Y/n is a person, not a video game, Jungkook. Have a little respect.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond, but when you glance up, the frustrated rolling of his eyes and furious stabbing of his fork in a pancake speaks volumes.

Yoongi pinches his brow. “Jin-hyung, can you pass the syrup? Thanks.”

Namjoon stares expectantly at the youngest Gentleman for a few moments, before letting out a light huff and returning to his food.

Silence continues for a moment or two before Taehyung pipes up, voice tiny in the oppressive tension. “How many people still have to do their prompts this week? I haven’t done mine yet.”

Yoongi sends him a lightly exasperated look. “Really?”

Taehyung gives a small shrug, glancing to the camboy sitting beside him. “I mean… I don’t think we need to be explicit but this show is about sex. I feel like it’s equally bad if we don’t talk about it at all, you know?”

“The kid’s right,” Jin allows with a wry grin. “I’ve done mine. Tuesday; though I suppose some of you saw.”

Jimin cocks his head, lost. “Saw? Uh, yes, I haven’t done my prompt yet. Actually, uh, if you guys wanna take part, stay in the lounge tonight. I need an audience.”

You send him an inquiring look. “What about me?”

Jimin lets out a short laugh. “Your participation is kind of mandatory. Please stay in the lounge too.”

You appreciate the slow brushes of conversation that ease the tension away. “Am I an audience member or a volunteer?” You grimace suddenly. “Wait, fuck, it isn’t like a circus act or something, right? You aren’t a magician?”

“Don’t worry, the show won’t be that kind of magic,” he promises.

You go to reply, but your attention is caught by the way Jungkook is openly glaring at Namjoon like he’s waiting for something. “Kook?” you question.

Jungkook’s eye twitches. “Why aren’t you saying anything now, Namjoon? So they get to talk about sex but I can’t?”

Jin sucks in harshly through his teeth, sending a look of alarm to the youngest. “Okay, break it up, that’s enough. Jungkook, any more smart comments and you can leave. We’ll talk privately if you need it.”

Jungkook lets out a bitter scoff, but Namjoon is already rising hastily, banging the edge of the table in his haste to get up. “I’ll go,” he urges, “you all can enjoy your breakfast in peace.”

Nobody seems to even breathe as the sounds of Namjoon’s footsteps fade away, a door upstairs shutting harshly.

Yoongi has his face bent, thumb and forefinger pressing to his forehead, like a headache is coming on. “What the fuck was that?” he muses tiredly.

Jungkook doesn’t answer, staring at his pancakes like he’s trying to make them burst into flames.

You bite your tongue harshly, unsettled by how tempers flared so quickly. Unsure of what to do, you stare at Jungkook for a moment. You don’t want it to seem like you’re picking a side, but he has five others around him, and Namjoon is upstairs alone. You slide your chair out, quieter than last time. “I’m just going to check on him. Jungkook; you’re fine, I’m not angry.”

He breaks out of his death stare at his breakfast to send you a look of bewilderment, but Yoongi is already clicking his tongue disapprovingly. “Well, I am,” the second eldest declares, and you rush upstairs before the scolding begins.

Namjoon answers, albeit reluctantly, when you knock on the door and call out to him. He’s well and truly awake and alert now, hair combed down sullenly, the purple looking more faded than ever against the rich blue of his long-sleeved t-shirt. “Are you okay?” he asks with a tired frown.

Your brows lift automatically. “That is the exact question I came up here to ask. Can I come in?”

His bedroom is even more tidy than usual, now that he hasn’t been sleeping there. You sit down on the edge of his bed, feeling an unsettling swirl of dread.

“I’m sorry about Jungkook,” is the first thing out of his mouth as he sits down beside you, shoulders hunched like he’s making himself as small as possible.

You shake your head slowly. “You shouldn’t apologise on other people’s behalf. He’ll say sorry if he wants to.”

Namjoon pauses for a moment. “Then I’m sorry about contributing to the uncomfortable atmosphere.”

Despite the situation, your mouth quirks into a grin and your eyes soften. “Forgiven. I’m more worried than angry, you know? About the both of you.”

Namjoon lets out a sigh, eyes dancing aimlessly around the room, no doubt pondering complex concepts at the speed of light like he usually was. “This is probably to be expected, right? Tension. I didn’t think I’d be the one involved, though.”

“Ah, it wouldn’t be a reality show without some drama,” you allow, scooting back on the bed so you can tuck your feet up, crossing your legs. “We’ve just gotta move past it, I guess.”

“Didn’t it make you uncomfortable?” Namjoon blurts suddenly, cringing at the volume of his voice. “Him talking about you so publicly like that?”

You run your tongue along the inside of your cheek. “It took me off guard for sure. I don’t know; I guess sex is kind of our currency in here, you know? Him being so, uh, bold about it out of nowhere is pretty weird, though.” You shrug it off. “Maybe he slept bad last night.”

Namjoon searches your face. “I’m too much of a prude, aren’t I? Things like that bother me, so why did I sign up for a porn show?”

You turn to face him, brows knitted in sympathy. “Just because others are more open doesn’t mean being modest is a bad thing. Don’t let Jungkook’s bad mood make you believe that you don’t belong on the show or that you need to change. Okay?”

The two of you share a tender moment of eye contact, before Namjoon laughs shyly and turns his head away. You grin at him. “What?”

“It’s stupid,” Namjoon deflects, “it’s not the time.”

“Not the time for what?” you press. “Tell me; I’m curious now.”

Namjoon’s eyes dart up, pausing briefly at your lips. “I just… I really wanted to kiss you.”

Your heart swells, but you keep your face open, your voice barely louder than a whisper. “Then you should kiss me.”

All the breath leaves his lungs in a rush, but before he can inhale again, he’s propelling himself forward, wide hands cradling your jaw steady so your lips can join, a little uncoordinated but perfect nonetheless.

The small whimper of surprise is muffled by his lips, but you quickly melt into him, hands clutching at the front of his shirt for stability.

You can taste the remnants of breakfast, the sweet stickiness of maple syrup on his lips. You deepen the kiss to seek out more of the flavour, breaths escaping your nose as you don’t dare part for a second. Namjoon seems equally enraptured, shy flicks of his tongue making your head spin.

You lean in until your wrists are pinned between his chest and yours, and then lean in more, wanting to be close. Like oxygen to fire, the more contact you get the more desperate you become, and when his hands lower to lift you easily onto his lap, grinding you unconsciously against his erection, you feel ablaze.

“I need to-nm-do my prompt,” Namjoon murmurs out, teeth catching on your tongue with how deeply you kiss.

You swallow, leaning back slightly to take a breath in. “We don’t have to now,” you assure, moving your hands up to stabilise yourself on his shoulders so that he cranes his neck up to chase your lips. “Or have you graduated from Hoseok’s School of Sexual Prowess already.”

You smile down at the way his eyes flutter shut with a crooked grin, delicate crescent moon lash line a deep brown against his tanned skin. His lips are flushed and swollen, and he swallows like a man parched before he speaks, blinking blearily up at you. “I prefer to learn on the job,” he quips hoarsely.

You grin, leaning down to nudge him slightly to the side with your nose, giving you a better angle to leave a trail of light kisses from the corner of his mouth to the top of his jaw, tugging on his earlobe just enough that you feel his dick twitch against you. “What’s it gonna be, then? Am I a naughty student? Slacking receptionist? Do I need to sign for a package, delivery boy?”

The chuckle Namjoon lets out is pained and reluctant. “Was that what you were hoping for? It’s a bit more romantic than that.”

“Romantic is good,” you assure, letting his arms on your hips hold you steady as you lean back and search his face. “Do I get any more clues? Tell me something.”

When he blinks up at you, there’s something open and earnest in his gaze, like he’s left behind that shy boy that blushes at any mention of sex. “Let me show you, love.”

He cradles your back and lays you down on his bed so delicately it takes your breath away. Without speaking, he presses his lips to yours again, and once again you feel unanchored in an ocean, kept floating by the pressure of his proximity. Slower than usual, you move against each other; his hands bracing him up by the pillow, your leg hitched up over his waist to keep him close. Between the soft cushioning of his bed and the solid heat of his body, you feel secure and safe, eyes closed so that he fills your other senses entirely.

The sweetness of the maple syrup on his tongue and lips has long since melted away, but it leaves behind his natural flavour, one you think you prefer more. Aftershave still clings to his cheeks, tingling your nostrils, but past it is the bright candylike scent of his orange blossom shampoo, and they mix dizzily as the ends of his hair brush your skin.

Need begins to pool between your legs, but it doesn’t drive you, instead staying muted in the background like the pleasant heat of a bubbling jacuzzi, hips rocking lazily without any true purpose as you focus on the shocks of pleasure when your tongues connect.

It’s impossible to tell how long the two of you stay like that, no urgency or haste, just enjoying the intimacy and closeness of shared breaths and swollen lips. When he trails a hand down to slip under your shirt, even his slightly calloused fingertips running up your side is enough to make you whimper, sensitised to every touch.

Namjoon groans when his palm covers your breast, gripping it and swiping a thumb over your stiffened peak, arousing even through the fabric of your bra, his mouth only leaving yours for the second it takes to push your shirt over and off, connecting again with a small grunt of need.

Though Namjoon’s body is hot like a furnace against you, the open air still causes you to shiver, arching your back so Namjoon can blindly locate the hooks on your bra, able to slip it off you in no time at all.

This time, when his teeth tug at your lip and you feel the uninhibited contact of his fingertip tracing a circle around your nipple, it’s like a spike of electricity straight to your core, igniting that spark of full-blown arousal. Namjoon’s lips quirk against yours when you let a moan catch in your throat.

When he shifts down, you’re expecting his mouth on your breast, or perhaps him to sit up to take his own clothes off, but he doesn’t go nearly that far. Instead he presses your jaw up, exposing your neck but laying kisses on the underside of your chin first.

Perhaps it’s that you weren’t expecting that touch, or perhaps such a unique place isn’t used to that type of attention, but his swollen lips caressing just below your jaw feels magical, eyelids fluttering as he sucks so, so gently.

His hand never leaves your breast, massaging the flesh, tracing where your regular skin pebbles into the dusky areola, nail dragging teasingly over the bud, and your mind is working itself into knots trying to process all the sensations he’s stirring in you.

If his first time was thrilling, this was nothing short of electric, neon bursts of colour behind your eyelids the only thing you can see. As his kisses slowly venture lower, dipping to the base of your neck, pulse throbbing against him, you picture your nerve endings like purple strands of electricity in a plasma ball, lighting up with every touch of his fingers, lips and tongue to your skin.

“Na-Namjoon,” you gasp out, swallowing to ease the dryness in your throat, “don’t tease, I need you.”

Namjoon shifts lower, but not low enough, chin resting on your chest as he looks up at you with a pleased smile, clearly satisfied with his improvement from last time. “But love, there’s no rush. We have the rest of our lives, remember? To have and to hold,” he rumbles lowly, pressing two light kisses to the top of your heaving breasts, “til death do us part.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.”

Namjoon’s lip twitches. “Oh,” he repeats playfully. Goosebumps break out on the tops of your arms at this sudden brazenness. He’d clearly been doing plenty of talking with Hoseok, and to see his hard work pay off in your pleasured reactions probably gave him a burst of confidence. “Are you going to be patient for me now, love? Let me savour you?”

Your breath catches in your throat, so you just nod shakily.

Satisfied with your response, Namjoon quirks a lip before using the very tip of his tongue to trail a circle around your nipple, just wide enough that the bud strains for his attention. Your fingers clutch his sides, annoyingly still clothed, as he moves to the other one, still giving your nipple a wide berth. “C-come on, Joonie,” you complain hoarsely, “I need more.”

When he looks up at you from below his lashes and sucks one nipple slowly into his mouth, tongue pressing it against his upper teeth, you hiss sharply, releasing the air in a breathy moan. Namjoon suckles at you gently, still languid but no longer avoiding your most sensitive areas, and the hand not propping him up begins rolling the other one between his fingers, making you shudder.

You’re so wet between your legs it’s growing uncomfortable, and so you cant your hips up towards him, hoping he gets the message. He tuts at you, but pulls off your nipple with a wet pop and sits up to undress further.

Namjoon shucks his own shirt without ceremony before his fingers find your waistband, and you let him slide off your pants and underwear as you lie back and enjoy the sight of his thick chest and smooth stomach, a trail of dark baby hairs disappearing past his jeans that you didn’t remember noticing the first time you slept with him.

He takes off those jeans, his boxers too, and joins you on the bed again, running a warm palm up your side. “I want to taste you,” he announces simply, carding a hand through his hair to keep it out of your face.

“Fuck, please.” You watch with wide eyes as he lies on his stomach, hands dipping under your thighs to lift and part them. The exposed air has you clenching instinctively, and you swear you can see his eyes dilate at the sight. “Namjoon,” you whine, back arching in impatience.

“Shh, love, I’ve got you,” he assures, peppering kisses from just below your knees, down your thighs until you can feel his breath on your core. “So beautiful.”

You can barely breathe, head propped up on the pillow to stare down the plains of your chest and stomach to the insanely attractive man between your legs. Though you’d grown fond of the kinkier, wild scenes - in fact, your dreams at night had taken a turn since joining the show - something about seeing Namjoon so at his element in this domestic atmosphere has you dripping.

Like he has all the time in the world, he locks eyes with you and blows a wave of slightly cool air over your folds. You breathe out a groan, sending him what you hope is a convincing-enough pleading gaze. He smiles placidly, licks his lips, ducks his head even further, and-

And blows another stream, this time narrowed and colder, directly over your clit. You shudder and buck instinctively in his grip, his hands on your thighs keeping you spread.

“Come on,” you gasp out, “Hoseok’s made you into a fucking demon!”

“Oh, trust me,” Namjoon murmurs, “Hoseok’s version was way kinkier than this. I’m trying to be romantic and sensual.”

You shift again, fruitlessly trying to wiggle your hips closer. “It would be really fucking romantic if you would actually put your mouth on my-ah!”

Just like you know Hoseok would (you don’t know whether to thank him or curse him for this), Namjoon strikes when you least expect it, and when you most need it.

Though his mouth is small, his tongue is no less nimble, darting deeply through your folds to collect your juices and using them to slurp harshly at your clit. You jerk, hand shooting down to latch in his hair, but he continues that constant, unyielding vacuum until you’re squirming hopelessly beneath him, finally pulling off with the slightest graze of teeth.

“Happy now?” he retorts, swollen lips glossy with your slick. His hands tighten on your thighs. “Hold them.”

Invigorated by his command, you rush to grasp the backs of your knees, keeping your legs up and spread for him. “Fuck, so good, Joonie, w-want more.”

Now with two hands freed, it’s no surprise when two fingers find their way into your wet heat, twisting inside you with every smooth thrust. His chin is smeared with your wetness when he lowers it to continue laving his tongue over your sensitive clit, but he groans sinfully into you, like he’s getting just as much pleasure from it as you are.

Once he really gets going, he’s merciless, his fingers so thick that you don’t even need a third one to really feel him filling you, hooking up to rub at your g-spot every now and again to hear the involuntary whimpers you give out.

You hold onto your own knees for dear life, writhing under him as a hot coil tightens inside you. “Fu-fuck, Joonie, I’m getting close.”

His mouth detaches from your clit for a bare moment, enough for him to pant out a groan and stare lustily up at you. “Don’t cum yet,” he instructs lowly, “you’re going to cum on my cock this time, love.”

You whine, biting your lip harshly to try and distract from the building pleasure. “Then you have to- have to stop, Joonie,” you shudder out reluctantly.

To your surprise, Namjoon is even more begrudging than you are, tugging out his fingers to chase a last few indulgent licks up your seam before he finally sits up to kneel, panting. “Are you ready for me?”

You feel yourself grow impossibly wetter at the sight of him grasping his length, slipping it through your folds to slick it up. “Yes, god yes, I need it, need your cock,” you garble.

Namjoon’s eyes flutter shut for a moment, before he presses his head to your entrance, sinking in barely an inch to test your reaction. “Can’t wait to fill you up, love,” he admits, abs clenching with the effort it takes to sink in slowly. “Fuck a baby into you, my perfect girl.”

Your heart races at his words, clenching around. “God, yes, Joonie, please.” Though all the Gentlemen were well aware you were on birth control, there was something wildly erotic about the thought of it. “Fill me up, wanna be good for you.”

Finally he bottoms out, and your thighs shake at the stretch. With your hips tilted up, it almost feels like he’s fucking right into your stomach, so deep your mind struggles to process the sensations. He heaves a few breaths, giving you a chance to squeeze around him experimentally and grow accustomed to him filling you so completely.

You mumble out your permission for him to move breathily, the air punched out of your lungs when he pulls out only to drive deep inside of you in one slick thrust. Your mouth drops open once he begins to thrust, holding onto your knees for dear life as they tremble uncontrollably.

“God, look at you,” Namjoon pants out, chest heaving with excitement or exertion, perhaps a mix of both. One of his palms presses against the top of your stomach, increasing the pressure of his cock inside you. “‘Be so beautiful with my baby inside you, love, tummy swollen. I’ll take good care of you, would you like that?”

You have to squeeze your eyes shut to put all your focus into speaking. “Ye-yeah, I want that, Joonie,” you manage to articulate, his length keeping your mouth watering whenever he’s inside you. “Gonna be such a good daddy, Joon.”

Like a switch being flicked, Namjoon suddenly jerks, going rigid. Your eyes open blearily when he stills inside you, and you moan openly at the fucked-out look on his face, his eyes lidded and hair wild.

“S-say that again,” he commands, and your mouth drops open at the desperate grate to his voice.

So Namjoon liked to be called… “Daddy,” you whine experimentally, grinning when his cock twitches, hips juddering. “Want you to fuck me, Daddy, please move.”

“God, love, so fucking perfect for me,” he makes out before he starts off again with a renewed vigor, hands kneading at your breasts, at the flesh of your hips, at your ass as he lifts you up to meet his every thrust.

The feeling of him fucking into you so intensely has you feeling delirious, unsure if the ringing in your ears is actually the sounds of your own cries, torn from your throat with every slap of his balls against your ass, the weight of his hips jerking you into the pillow more and more every time.

You feel the pressure of his body hovering just above you, the angle of his thrusts changing, then suddenly his mouth is on your breast again, sucking harshly at the nipple. With the way your body moves beneath him, he can’t help but scrape his teeth against you a couple times, but it just makes the pleasure soar higher, neon starbusts of colour behind your eyelids when you squeeze them closed.

“Close again,” you warn desperately, losing the grip on one of your knees due to the sweat gathering there. With one up and one down, the angle changes again, and you reach out blindly to latch onto his upper arm, screaming at the heights of pleasure. “Can I cum this time, Daddy, please let me cum!”

“Fuck, give it to me, cum for me,” he growls out around your breast, and you see stars.

The orgasm that rips through you is powerful enough that all your senses fade suddenly away, unable to feel anything expect a rush of pleasure all the way down to your toes, boneless yet convulsing as he pistons his hips into you once, twice, three more times until he’s taken by the way you clench tightly around him.

He laps clumsily, wetly at your nipple as he spills inside you, before the two of you are completely drained of energy. Panting, heaving, you don’t even manage to catch your breath before you’re falling into slumber, Namjoon still inside you.

“He told us to wait here, right?” you ask anxiously.

There are six of you gathered on the couches in the lounge. Television off, the silence is weirdly uncomfortable. Perhaps that’s just because you know that everyone is waiting here not only to see Jimin, but to see what Jimin is going to do to you.

Hoseok, tucked into the smallest corner of the couch on the right, huffs lightly at your question. “He’s Jimin, Y/n. Either he’s up there primping or he’s just making you wait to be obnoxious.”

Perched beside him with a glass of whisky, two fingers full, Yoongi sends a droll glare to Hoseok. “Bold words for a man who’s choosing to watch the show.”

“I’m curious, sue me.”

“I think we all are,” Namjoon adds, curled up beside you in the central position of the three couches. “I think the only one that knows his prompt is Tae.”

Taehyung turns to answer, propped up against Jin’s side on the left, but the eldest interrupts, a crease of worry between his brows. “Not all of us, it seems,” he points out. “Don’t you find it strange that Jungkook isn’t here?”

“Does he know?” Taehyung wonders, fingers dipping into his pocket to reach for his phone.

Yoongi frowns. “He knows. He asked me not to make him anything for dinner tonight. Said he wasn’t feeling well. Didn’t seem like he was sick, just… distressed. I think you should talk with him, Jin.”

Jin sucks in a breath, pauses, and exhales again, jaw flexing. “Sure.”

The six of you lapse into a slightly strained silence again, before Namjoon gets restless, shifting beside you until he finally clears his throat and looks up at Yoongi. “What is for dinner, hyung?”

“We didn’t really have much for lunch, so I’m thinking steak and pasta,” the doctor offers up. “There’s some carbonara sauce in the pantry that looks good.”

Taehyung coughs nervously. “Do we have steak? I didn’t think there were-”

“We had plenty this morning when I checked,” Yoongi cuts in evenly. “Should I be aware of any recent developments?”

The masseuse pouts, leaning further into Jin’s side like he’ll protect him. “Well… It’s just that I feel so bad for Mango! The kennel I bought online isn’t as insulated as I hoped it would be and I know she gets lonely.”

Yoongi groans, going lax on the leather of the couch. “So you figured she’d what? Cuddle with the steaks?”

“I just figured maybe if I gave her nice food she’d cheer up,” Taehyung adds, “and it was just two! Are you mad at me?”

“No, I guess I’m not. Jungkook isn’t eating anyway, and…” Yoongi grins. “As penance, you can have plain pasta and watch the rest of us enjoy our perfectly cooked steaks.”

Taehyung throws himself against Jin dramatically, but even as he moans in misery, a relieved smile crooks at his lips. “I suppose,” he drawls begrudgingly, and once again a light atmosphere fills the room, like everyone’s just sighed out a breath of relief.

You lean onto the arm of the couch, facing Taehyung. “Tae, Jimin’s prompt isn’t too, like, intense, right?”

He cocks his head. “What do you mean? For him or for you?”

“Uh…” Your mind whirls blankly, cheeks heating up as you draw the attention of the other guys. “For- for me. So far some of the scenes have been pretty taxing, and I guess I just didn’t expect such a jump up from Week One.”

Instead of laughing or teasing, the others go a little solemn, perhaps even bashful. “Jimin’s isn’t super crazy, Y/n, don’t worry,” Taehyung assures quickly.

Yoongi bites down hard on his tongue, jaw popping. “We didn’t go too hard on you, did we?”

You suck in a breath. “I mean- No, not individually. It builds up though, you know?” Something niggles in the back of your mind, something you’ve wondered for a while. “Do you guys talk about it?”

Hoseok hesitates. “About fucking you?”

Your cheeks are on fire as you curl up small in the corner. “Not- Not that specifically, but just… Do you guys discuss who goes when and who has what? I kinda wondered why you spread yourselves out, if it’s just a coincidence or if you- Never mind, it’s stupid.”

“We kinda do,” Hoseok admits freely. “Like, obviously we don’t all sit down in a room brainstorming or something-” You don’t miss the way Taehyung and Namjoon instinctively lock gazes, though you can’t quite read their expressions. Hoseok continues, “but we do chat with each other and try and give each other space.”

Jin shrugs easily. “Yeah, like, I’ll just say in the groupchat, ‘I’m planning on doing my scene outside, look outside at your own risk’ or whatever.” The eldest stiffens as he’s fixed with several glares of alarm, including your own. “What? Were we not meant to tell her about the groupchat?”

Your mouth drops open. “You guys have a groupchat without me? I wanna see!”

“That defeats the purpose of you not being in the group chat,” Yoongi points out, though his grin is more sheepish than mischievous.

You make a noise of exasperation, ready to protest further, but before you can open your mouth the doorbell rings.

Everyone freezes.

After a moment, the doorbell rings again.

“You should go get it,” Taehyung supplies helpfully, eyes on you. “Might be interesting.”

Your heart picks up with the cool thread of adrenaline. It’s time. All eyes are on you as you sit up and make your way out to the foyer, the tile cool under your bare feet.

Though the door is a rich mahogany, clouded glass panels on either side betray a dark figure, perfectly still. Even though you can barely see the outline, there’s no deny the expectant tilt of their head belongs to none other than Jimin.

By the time you pad up to the door and turn the knob, his hand is outstretched to ring the bell a third time, and his mouth parts in surprise before giving you a pleasant beam.

You’d been wondering if he was meant to be a delivery guy, a mechanic, something along those lines, but your first glance over him proves you wrong.

His blue hair is glossy enough to reflect the light of the lamp above the doorway, curled in graceful swoops on his forehead and temples. Though he always wore makeup, it was clear he’s set to impress, with a bold russet red lip, powerful black eyeliner and a spot of gold under each eye.

He’s taller than usual, and you glance down automatically, to be greeted with the most gorgeous black heels, stiletto points giving him an extra few inches of height. The shoes make his legs look a mile long, and you suck in a breath as you follow them up, realising they’re completely bare, the only adornment a sinfully tight pair of black fishnets that dig in to his thighs and calves.

In fact, all he seems to be wearing otherwise is a black trenchcoat, falling to mid-thigh and with the sash tied so tightly it accentuates his narrow waist.

All put together, he looks like sin personified, the kind sailors drown for. You can’t help but want to dive in yourself. Trying to go along with the roleplay, you play dumb. “Do I, uh, do I know you?”

Jimin’s smile broadens as his arm falls, hand resting snugly on his hip. “You will soon, sweetness.” Usually one for pinks, nudes and clear glosses, seeing him suddenly in a deep red makes you realise just how full his lips are. You miss the feeling of them on you. “Did Taehyung not tell you I was coming?”

“Did Tae-?” You clear your throat, unsure how to proceed. This Jimin was Amazonian; bruisingly pretty and intimidating in his grace. “I guess not? Was he supposed to?”

His eyes crinkle empathetically, darting past you into the foyer. “Let’s talk inside, shall we? I’m not exactly dressed for the outdoors.”

“Oh, fuck!” you blurt instinctively, and you swear his lip twitches before you’re backing away hastily, ushering him inside. “I’m so sorry, please come in! Do you want me to take your coat? I don’t- I don’t know what you need.”

Jimin steps inside and closes the door behind him in one smooth motion, punctuated only by the click of his heels on the tile. He reaches out to pat your cheek, only somewhat condescendingly. “No wonder, sweetness, you didn’t even know I was coming.” That isn’t quite true, but in the scheme of things, you may as well not have known he was doing his scene tonight at all for all it’s helping you. “Why don’t you lead me to Taehyung? I assume he’s here.”

“Of course he’s- I mean, yes, he’s here. Right this way.”

The two of you only have a short trip to the lounge, where no doubt the other five have been straining their ears to eavesdrop, but every strike of his heels against the floor behind you has the hairs on the nape of your neck standing on end.

In the lounge, the guys are all turned around in their seats to shamelessly ogle Jimin, Taehyung the only one without the gobsmacked look on his face - though even he takes in an unsteady breath at how gorgeous the man looks.

You make your way to him, standing awkwardly in front of the couch that him and Jin share. Turning back to face Jimin, you can’t help but match Taehyung’s reaction. Jimin looks even more radiant in the decent lighting of the room. You can see now his trenchcoat is a lush fabric, slightly thicker than silk, and deeply matte. Around the inside of the collar is a faint embossed silver logo, promoting Chanel as the designer of that piece.

Ignoring the stunned silence of the room, Jimin slinks immediately to Taehyung, tipping his chin up with his knuckles. “Did you not tell Y/n about me, hm?” he questions with a faux pout. “Kept it a secret, our naughty Taehyungie.”

The masseuse wilts pleadingly under Jimin’s gaze, and the responding wicked grin makes you think that Jimin probably told him to keep quiet, only to tell him off for it now. “Sorry, Minnie,” Taehyung mutters nonetheless. “Wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Did you now?” Jimin lets go of him, stepping back. “I suppose we should get down to business, then. Are you all leaving, or do I have an audience tonight?” Glancing around imperiously, you watch as his eyes dart back and forth, smile faltering. His breath catches, eyes dull with disappointment that he quickly masks under a broad smile. “It’s just the six of you, then?”

Your heart aches as you think of the missing person still upstairs in his room. “Yeah, it’s just us.”

Always the professional, Jimin moves on without comment. “Well, then, sweetness; take a seat and get comfortable. You’re a lucky girl tonight.”

Your mouth feels dry even as it waters. Taking your seat beside Namjoon again, you watch in rapt anticipation as Jimin slips a hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone, fiddling with something on it as he strolls slowly into the center of the room, just in front of the television.

“We have a few rules,” Jimin announces. “No heckling, no getting drunk while I’m here, and no touching unless I give you permission. They’re simple, so I expect you to follow them. Got it?”

With his back to the group as he sets up his phone, you’re unsure who exactly he’s addressing, but some of you make general hums of confirmation, all the attention on Jimin.

When the music starts - a deep, thrumming beat with a sensual pace - you can see the change in him immediately, even from the back. His shoulders adjust, head tips back slightly like he’s letting it run through him, and his fingers find the knot of his sash.

You can barely comprehend the fact that Jimin is about to dance for you, breath caught in your throat when his hips begin to sway and the fabric of his trenchcoat loosens, slipping down just enough to reveal the tops of his shoulders, bare except two skinny black straps.

Following the groove of the music, he rocks his head back, hips shifting side to side, and lets the coat fall an inch at a time. A tight black bodice is revealed, structured leather with a soft velvet trim that covers most of his back. Sleeves dangling right at the ends of his fingertips, the coat dips just below the swells of his ass, which are clad in a racy g-string, a thicker band of lace low across his hips and a narrow one running down the middle of his cheeks. Letting the coat go completely, the last of his back silhouette is exposed, the leather garter straps that hold those fishnet stockings up.

“Shit!” Yoongi hisses under his breath, hands glinting in the light and whiskey glass significantly emptier than before. A dark patch spreads across one leg of his pants, evidence of him spilling his drink.

Though he was quiet, Jimin picks up on it, and turns smoothly, lightly surprised and heavily amused, watching Yoongi squirm in embarrassment as he approaches.

If the view from the back is breathtaking, seeing Jimin full-frontal is another level. The bodice has clearly been tailored for someone with a flat chest, but the shape no less speaks to the feminine style of a bra, roughly triangular leather covering the upper half of his chest to meet the smooth velvet straps. The whole piece is just short enough that it leaves a stripe of skin between fabrics, his hipbones jutting out gracefully and guiding your gaze lower, where the front of his lace panties strain with the size of his length, the tip threatening to peek out the top.

He’s hard, you notice with a start, and from the hazy look on everyone’s faces, they’ve noticed it too. Jimin likes this.

When he’s standing in front of Yoongi, towering over the other in his heels, he reaches out a hand silently, eyes darting to the glass in Yoongi’s hand.

The elder gulps, holding it up, blushing as Jimin wraps one hand around Yoongi’s wrist, and takes the glass from him with the other. In a graceful swill, he downs the last of Yoongi’s whiskey, not even wincing. Teasingly, he bends down to place the empty glass directly over Yoongi’s crotch, making him hiss.

Like he has all the time in the world, Jimin straightens up again and tugs the wrist in his grasp higher. Locking eyes, Jimin parts his lips and wraps them around the base of Yoongi’s thumb, sucking off the spilt liquor.

Yoongi groans lowly, cheeks stained red as his eyes flutter shut in a mix of pleasure and humiliation. As Jimin makes his way through all of Yoongi’s fingers, bobbing his head obscenely and swirling his tongue, you think you see the empty glass wobble on Yoongi’s lap, like his cock is twitching in his pants. Fuck. It’s not even you getting the full weight of Jimin’s attention and you already feel dizzy with need.

Once he’s done, Jimin lets go and Yoongi’s hand falls limply to his side. Satisfied, he moves to the center of the room again, hips fluid with the flow of the music.

A cursory glance around the room shows that you’re not the only one heavily affected. Beside you Namjoon is restless, shifting back and forth from spreading his legs to ease the pressure, and clenching them together to try and hide the bulge in his pants. Hoseok looks pale, eyes wide and locked onto Jimin’s ass as he walks away from their couch.

On the other side, Taehyung and Jin are significantly more shameless; Jin rests a hand on the back of Tae’s neck and tugs at the curls of hair there as the younger boy ruts against his thigh, curled into his side even as the two of them focus on the attraction in the centre of the room.

You can only imagine how fucked out you must look too, wriggling against the couch cushion seeking friction with your heart thudding in your chest. The effect is only heightened when Jimin locks his eyes to you and begins to dance.

One day, a few of you were gathered in this very lounge, having enough drinks to get a bit silly and uncoordinated. Jimin had told you all a little bit about his dancing career. From what he’d said, you formed this mental image of him in soft makeup and satin shoes, dainty but powerful in front of an adoring crowd. The way he spoke about music - too much of a heavyweight to be as incoherent as the rest of you - made it seem like it was his greatest love, a match made in heaven.

Though now pirouettes and grand jetés had been replaced by spread legs and lidded eyes, you could still see that passion he spoke of. It enchanted you like a snake charmer or a siren, and arousal entwines endlessly with awe in your stomach.

After what feels like the shortest eternity, the music of the first song fades out, and Jimin straightens up, exhaling a breath like he’s releasing its hold from his body to make room for the next.

The tune that fills the room next has a decently higher tempo than the first one, each beat punctuated by a clap, and he grins when he hears it, stalking forwards.

Between Jimin and the rest of you is a coffee table, and he makes his way around to Taehyung and Jin, eyes sparkling at how Taehyung straddles Jin’s thigh, blinking up at the dancer owlishly.

“Oh, baby,” Jimin coos, “enjoying the show?”

Taehyung nods, not shy but too wound up to speak.

At the lack of verbal response, Jimin grins, perching himself on Jin’s other thigh, making the eldest hiss. “Taehyungie,” Jimin calls in a sing-song voice, fingers winding into his hair, just above Jin’s, “you still haven’t paid me for my services, you know?”

“H-huh?” Poor Taehyung looks barely coherent, interrupted from his grind and staring weakly at Jimin’s glossy lips. You can’t imagine you’d be faring any better in his situation. “What- How do I pay you?”

Jimin faux pouts. “Normally I’m very expensive,” he admits lowly, but the room is silent apart from the music, and since it’s just playing from his phone, it doesn’t impede the rest of you listening in. “But I like you. I’ll take my payment tomorrow. You know what I mean, right?”

Taehyung nods dumbly, obediently, making the dancer grin wickedly.

Fixing his attention on Jin, Jimin trails his fingertips up his thigh and traces the outline of Jin’s cock in his makes, making him groan. “Take good care of my baby tonight, won’t you?”

Jin sucks in a shaky breath, eyes darting to Taehyung, but the curly-haired boy just whines and buries his face in the crook of Jin’s neck, a wordless display. “You got it, Min.”

From the other side of the room, a click of the tongue catches your attention. Hoseok is straight-faced, extricating himself from the corner of the couch to stand up and make his way out.

Jimin swiftly stands in front of him to impede his way. “Where are you going?”

Hoseok rolls his eyes with a shrug. “I came, I saw, I sated my curiosity. I’m not interested in waiting in line to be fondled, thank you very much.”

Jimin seems to have forgotten the music, eyes gleaming as he faces off the dom. “Poor baby too impatient to wait, hm? I’ll let you jump the queue,” he finishes in a husky voice, grinning.

Hoseok eyes the doorway behind Jimin, huffing impatiently. “Nice try. I’m not interested.”

Tipping his head to the side, Jimin’s brows lift in a mix of surprise and bemusement. “I’m inclined to disagree,” he says, taking a step closer so that only a sliver of air parts them. Hoseok stiffens, stubbornly avoiding looking at the dancer. “I’d venture a guess that you’re leaving so suddenly because you’re a little too interested.” Slow enough that Hoseok has plenty of time to refuse, Jimin runs his knuckles all the way down Hoseok’s front, brushing over his crotch. His grin widens, flashing white teeth. “Hmm.”

Hoseok scoffs and pulls himself away, neck and forehead slightly red. “Don’t get too cocky. It was from Taehyung, not from you, peaches.”

Even from the other side of the room, Jimin’s instinctual reaction is clear as day. His shoulders drop and his lips part, lashes fluttering before he can control the response.

If you didn’t miss it, Hoseok certainly didn’t either. He barks out a laugh, back in power again, and steps to Jimin’s side to pass him. “Knew it. Don’t miss me too much, then, peaches.”

Even as Jimin is shuddering at the petname again, Hoseok rears his hand back to smack Jimin’s ass with a sharp noise of impact, Jimin jumping forward with a startled squeak. “No touching!” the dancer hisses, one ass cheek already flooding with a sweet candy pink.

“Apologies,” Hoseok says with a teasing grin, already at the doorway, “I’ll see myself out.”

Jimin makes an indignant cry, but the older man is already bouncing up the stairs cheerfully. Determined to get the sexy atmosphere back, Jimin takes a deep breath and turns back to you all with a rueful smile, but it falters when the music fades out, the second song ending. “Ah,” he murmurs, “show’s over, kids.”

Namjoon, the only guy that hadn’t received any personal attention, sits up with a frown. “Wait, already?”

Jimin shrugs, smiling at him sweetly. “Sorry, Joon. Last song’s a private dance. Maybe another time.”

A private dance. Your breath quickens as Jimin turns off the next song that randomly came up on shuffle, collects his phone, and hitches his coat off the floor with the point of a stiletto, gathering it under his arm.

The others quietly start to stretch, sit up, Yoongi going to fill up his glass again. By the time Jimin makes his way to you, Jin has already lifted Tae up with a single arm under him, carrying the younger upstairs as Taehyung sucks shamelessly at his neck. Namjoon is slower to move, probably still a little worked up and edged from the show, but he joins Yoongi in the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone.

Once Jimin is directly in front of you, your breath stops. He’s gathered the lightest sheen of sweat from dancing, or perhaps that’s just the highlighter on his cheeks, and his eyes are hazed from the excitement of performing. He silently reaches a hand out to you with an enticing smirk.

You furrow your brow in confusion. “Not here?”

“I did say private. Unless you want me to fuck you where everyone can see?”

You gulp at the thinly veiled threat. “We can go.” You take his hand and let him lift you up with effortless strength, pausing when he looks at you expectantly. “Did I do something…?”

Jimin beams like you’re a cute but stupid pet. “I haven’t been here before, remember? Show me to your room, sweetness.”

“Oh!” You rush past him, hands catching to guide him out and upstairs. The thrill of excitement speeds your steps, and in no time at all he’s placing his coat and phone on your desk, guiding you to sit on the end of the bed.

The third song starts with the familiar smoothness of Beyonce’s voice, an older pop song that holds up still, and Jimin slips off the black straps of the bodice, another set directly below them. Arms tucking behind him, he begins to undo the clasps one by one.

“You were being very well behaved, you know, sitting there and waiting for your turn,” he muses, fiddling with the fabric behind him. “Now you get a reward.”

You don’t know what to say in response, just nodding wordlessly, but it seems he is content with that. After a moment, you notice the top half of the bodice pull away from his chest lightly, revealing not plain skin but more lace, matching the panties that struggle to cover his cock. He approaches you as he undoes the last few at the base, and slips smoothly between your legs, letting it fall to the side.

In front of you in all his glory, Jimin looks gorgeous, the inky swoops of his tattoo peeking out from under a sweet black lace bralette, the skinniest straps holding up the delicate cups. In the center is a tiny black satin bow, and you think you feel your heart give out a little at the sight of it.

Even in his pretty lingerie, he’s no less intimidating, and you shudder at the feeling of his eyes locked onto you, feeding on your reactions and pinning you to the bed.

“You like it?” the dancer asks, voice rough with arousal. You nod quickly, still too stunned for words. Jimin hums, winding a hand around the back of your neck. “Show me how much you like it.”

Before you can suck in a breath, his mouth descends on yours, and a shot of electricity runs through you as he spares no time for pecks and caresses. This kiss is nothing short of filthy, his tongue runs over your teeth, he bites your lips, he sucks on your tongue. You do your best to reciprocate enthusiastically, but there’s no question who’s in charge.

With how deep and primal it is, there’s no surprise when you feel your shared spit begin to collect in the corners of your lips and run down your chin. Jimin doesn’t stop, but lowers his mouth to lap it up, pushing it back in and continuing to fuck his tongue into your mouth.

You moan hopelessly into the kiss, hips rocking on the edge of the mattress fruitlessly and fingers holding on to his neck and shoulder for dear life. His teeth are sharp, nipping mercilessly at your bottom lip until your eyes sting, but it only serves to drive more need.

The music in the background livens up as it reaches the chorus, and suddenly the thought of the song finishing and him leaving you high and dry comes to mind. You tug yourself away from him, sucking the spit off your swollen lip. “Jimin,” you gasp out, “I want you.”

Jimin grins. Though his gloss is all but gone, the colour on his lips remains intact. “You aren’t gonna let me finish my dance, sweetness?”

“Wi-Will you still fuck me after the song ends?” you ask, feeling stupid for needing confirmation.

Jimin lets out a soft but condescending coo, hands squeezing your cheeks together so that your lips pout. “Poor baby just wants to get fucked, does she? Baby just wants a cock in her.”

Even as he mocks you, you can’t even defend yourself. “Please, Jiminie.”

He places a single light peck over your protruding and obscenely swollen lips. “Let’s make a deal; I’ll dance for the rest of the song, and if you can keep your hands to yourself, I’ll let you cum when I fuck you. Sound fair?”

At this point, you’d agree to anything, and both of you know it. “I can do it,” you insist even as your voice wobbles.

Instead of answering, Jimin begins to move, following the momentum of the music. Your hands lie at their sides, the duvet cool against your heated flesh.

He starts out easy, stepping back to give himself more space and slowly lowering into a crouch, the heels making his calves pop. Running his hands down his chest, fingers slipping under the lace, he sighs out like his own touch gives him unspeakable pleasure.

You grit your teeth. Watching him touch himself just makes you want to touch him more. He widens his legs, showing the place where the lacy band narrows down below his balls into a thin string. Whether it’s the angle or just the amount of moving he’s done, the tip of his cock has nestled up higher, poking out just to the side of his hip. Shamelessly, he runs a single fingertip over it, tapping so you can see the clear strands of precum that cling.

You let out an unsteady breath, relaxing slightly as the song begins to build to the final chorus. Not long.

Unfortunately for you, Jimin recognises the changing keys as well as you do, and he stands up smoothly, slinking towards you.

Instead of settling between your knees this time, he turns his back to you and bends down, folding himself in half to fully bare his ass. Hoseok’s handprint still pinkens the skin of one, and the sudden desire to reach out and see if it’s as warm to the touch as it looks overcomes you. You hiss and fist your hands in the fabric of the duvet cover, making Jimin stretch up with a laugh.

Merciless, Jimin widens his stance, choosing to sit on top of your lap, ass grinding on you. You can imagine this movement would be much more unbearable for a guy, but you still feel your resolve unravelling, taken by the fluidity of his hips, the lace accuentuating his slender waist, the pressure of his head as he tips it back onto your shoulder.

“This is so unfair,” you complain shakily, and are rewarded with the musical giggle Jimin lets out, bubbling from his arched throat right into your ear.

Luckily, the chorus ends, and the final notes settle down. Jimin’s hips still and he turns his head, lips just about brushing your cheek. “Good job, sweetness,” he praises warmly, “can I have another kiss?”

Your jaw jerks automatically before you catch yourself. Though it’s fading out, the song technically hasn’t ended yet. “Not yet.”

Shameless even as his ruse is exposed, Jimin just beams and twist around so that he’s straddling you face-on. He lowers his mouth to your collarbone, nibbling at the skin there as the beat fades and the overlaying instruments peter out. Though it must only be ten or fifteen seconds, it feels like forever as he rocks himself against you just like Taehyung had done to Jin - albeit less desperate and more strategic - and licks at the bite marks on your neck.

Finally, it goes silent, and you exhale deeply, hands automatically coming up to rest on his hips as he laughs lightly at your successful efforts. “I’m impressed,” he admits, “guess you get your reward after all, sweetness.”

So relieved that the heat between your legs will get some attention, you barely take notice of him standing up off you, at least not until he slips his cock fully out of the panties.

His cock, straining with being left unattended so long, is a far deeper pink than the mark on his ass, particularly around the head. He sucks in a breath through his nose as he strokes himself, before blinking down at you.

“Clothes off if you want me, sweetness.”

You could guarantee you’ve never undressed so quickly before, frantically enough that your hips are hot from the friction of tugging down your pants. You take no note, however, just spreading your legs wantonly as you eye up his cock.

“Fuck, look at you,” Jimin curses, bracing a hand on your hip as he lines himself up. “Don’t even need stretching, do you? Looks like Joonie opened you up for me already.”

Your cheeks burn, but there’s not enough time to dwell on the embarrassment, as Jimin holds you down with his grasp on your hip and bottoms out in a single thrust.

Even though he’s right, the sudden fullness has you gasping a moan, almost falling onto your back. You prop yourself up and widen your legs further, eyes locked on the sight of his cock, nestled underneath by the lushest black lace, buried deep inside you. “Fuck, please move.”

“My pleasure,” he coos with a sweet smile, before the smile drops to a slack pout of lust, snapping his hips with a deftness that you now know is due to his background as a dancer.

You fight to keep yourself sitting up, one hand around the back of his neck as he fills you with every stroke, but the angle isn’t quite right, and you find your pelvis shifting to find it.

Jimin notices your frustration, and wordlessly pauses, grips your thighs and tugs you forward so that you’re flat on your back, ass over the edge and held up by his upper body strength. Without you even processing the change, he’s returning to his ruthless place, and you sob from relief at the way your insides come alive with pleasure, so much stronger than before.

“Fuck, right there! Right- ungh, yes, Ji-Jimin,” you pant out, feeling unbearably hot all at once with the intensity of it.

Though part of you is still sore from the scene you had with Namjoon earlier, your swollen walls only increase the drag of him against your sensitive tissue, and you quickly turn incoherent, tongue so thick in your mouth that you open it, panting as your fingers clutch the duvet to anchor you.

“That good, huh?” Jimin notes with a laugh stuttered by grunts of exertion. Normally, you’d protest or retort, but with your ankles wrapped around him and back arching off the bed, there’s nothing on your mind but the enveloping urge to cum.

Rather than reply, you just let yourself drown in the sensations, vision going black as your eyes roll into the back of your head.

Your orgasm comes so fast that you don’t even notice it approaching, can’t even warn him. It’s like a clap of thunder, making you go stiff with a scream before turning completely boneless, legs slipping down off him weakly.

Jimin curses as you squeeze around him, but fucks you through it thoroughly, only slowing down once you begin to fuss, shivering and wriggling away.

Dazed from the sudden onslaught of pleasure, it takes you a few moments for the fog in your brain to clear. Once you do, you glance down and realise Jimin is still achingly hard, dripping with your slick and the remnants of Namjoon’s cum, but none of his own. He strokes it lazily, gaze searching your face.

So exhausted from two intense scenes in one day, you don’t think you could manage to jerk him off or give him a decent blowjob, but to leave him hanging would be cruel. Instead, you fumble to slide yourself off the bed, landing a little too hard on your knees.

“What are you- oh, Y/n, fuck,” Jimin exclaims lowly as you blink up at him and open your mouth, sticking your tongue out. He gets the message easily, speeding up his strokes as his tip bounces on your tongue, brief sparks of the salty tang of your shared arousal.

He must have been close before, because it doesn’t take him more than a minute to fall over the edge, cumming into your mouth with thick spurts. A shame it couldn’t have been inside you a different way, but you nonetheless chase his cock, blade of your tongue dipping into his slit to make sure you’d gotten every last drop.

Jimin swears lowly, stroking your hair back fondly as you swallow, and helps you stand up on wobbly legs.

Leading you to the bathroom, Jimin sits you on the closed toilet seat as he runs a bath. Having slipped off his heels somewhere back in the room, he unhooks his garters as he waits for the tub to fill. With one leg resting on the high edge of the tub, rolling down the fishnets one at a time, you once again are silenced in awe of his beauty.

It feels unspeakably intimate to watch him unclasp the bralette, slip off the panties, and slowly take his makeup off, easily locating the makeup remover he’d borrowed from you that very first night.

Your eyes sting a little as you’re reminded of that time. It feels like an eternity ago, even though it’s just under a fortnight. You’d thought he was so intimidating back then. Though he still had the power to command attention, you’d seen enough of the kindhearted, thoughtful and sensitive man beneath that the Jimin two weeks ago felt like a very different man.

“Water’s ready.”

You blink yourself out of that train of thought, letting Jimin help you carefully into the tub, joining you on the other side, legs tangled. “Thank you,” you manage to say, still feeling a little out of it after a tiring day and a good orgasm.

Jimin beams, glancing away to obscure some of his face. It’s clear to you that the lack of makeup has him feeling a bit vulnerable. His skin is flushed red - either naturally or from exertion you couldn’t tell - and his brows were softer, eyes looking smaller without the shadow that emphasised them. He wasn’t any less beautiful like this, just more human. Comforting, in a way, as he passes you a washcloth and begins to lather himself up in strawberry-scented bodywash.

“Hey, Y/n,” Jimin starts, but his voice sounds weirdly stilted and unlike him.

“Mm?”

“My, um, my…” He lets out a light cough, avoiding your gaze with an air of forced aloofness. “Granny keeps asking about you. She’s convinced we’re dating, but that’s, uh, I’ve assured her we aren’t. She really liked you, and whenever we chat she asks to speak to you, and, um…”

You feel more coherent than you have in a good couple hours, sitting upright. “She does?”

Jimin laughs ruefully. “I never really knew how to ask you if you wanted to speak to her, or if I should even ask you at all-”

“So you thought now, while we’re both naked in a tub after you fucking my brains out is the right time?”

Jimin’s cheeks colour more as he splutters. “You can say no, I just didn’t want you to… I don’t know. You can say no.”

You beam at him. “I have one rule.”

“What?”

“I’ll hang out with Mrs. Park on one condition.”

The blue-haired boy stares at you warily. “Which is?”

You lean forward with a deadpan expression on your face, making him grimace in worry. “You let me sleep in your bed tonight,” you explain gravely, “I’m running out of options for this Bangasm Bomb thingy, and it’s only fair after you just took me out of commission like that.”

Jimin laughs in relief, throwing his head back with a joyous grin. “Deal! Don’t scare me like that.”

You return his smile, heart swelling from the fondness you hold for him. “Of course I’ll chat with your grandma, Jimin. I love her. She reminds me of you a lot.”

You may have said too much, but Jimin goes lax against the opposite end of the tub, smile never leaving his lips, and you don’t regret it for a second.

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beautifulterriblequeen · 3 years

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B2:S - Chapter 5

Much of this series will be about the differences and additions in the novel version, and how they contribute to my understanding of story canon. But there will be character appreciation, the odd theory and headcanon, and suchlike as well.

Here be lots of Viren deets, Best Boy Soren deets, some writing/continuity stuff, worldbuilding appreciation and half of a theory, Detective Rayla, Moon Temple geeking, Claudium and dark magic, and more!

Spoilers for Book Two: Sky below.

(I know for darn sure that I wrote up a post for chapter 4, but I can't find it anywhere so I guess Tumblr ate it and I'll have to redo it at some point, but today is not that day)

Viren, my evil dude, my bad guy, coming in clutch with the worldbuilding and backstory again! If you want to know decades of information, you gotta talk to Viren. Or read his scenes, at least. Here, he seems to not sleep much when he has a big problem to analyze his way through. Solutions trump pretty much everything else in this guy's life, and he's had a really hard week with a lot of new and complicated problems. Of course he's getting sleep-deprived trying to find his way through them all.

Harrow put so much trust in Viren when he made him High Mage! He just threw himself extra hard at that Lady Justice blindfold, didn't he? Didn't really want to see what Viren was doing in his magic study, so he left Viren to his devices. And Viren has a lot of devices.

Also, this is fascinating: Viren made the secret passage to his "less official study" in Katolis Castle! And he was inspired to do so by the way his own mentor kept the Puzzle House. What else could a Puzzle House be, except a place with secret passages? Yay! secret headcanon that "the Puzzle House" is just "Katolis Castle" from Kid Viren's perspective tho

So either Viren built all of those passageways, or at least the ones to his dungeon. Which means he has to have, or know where to get, a stash of those glowing blue Moonshadow crystals. Hmmm.

I can't wait to learn more about Kpp'Ar and young Viren, btw. From this description of Viren and all his literal secret ways, it feels like another parallel between Viren and Runaan, with the whole "secretive paths, members only, insider knowledge" type stuff. Only the really cool members of this cult club get to know the secrets, and guess what, kid, you're cool now but you can never tell anyone, okay? Our secret.

Yeahhh, that'll never backfire in any way for either of them.

Kpp'Ar calling puzzles and secrets "man-made magic," though. Yes sir, knowledge is indeed power.

This chapter mentions Runaan by name, from Viren's perspective. Generally that would imply that Viren knows his name, even though assassins do not share their names, and Runaan didn't seem to give his to Viren in the first book. However, there was a scene in book one where the last paragraph switched perspective from Viren to Runaan - a technique that's very common in visual media like movies and shows and gives you that "ohoho they left the room and didn't notice this, but you do!" vibe. Using Runaan's name there in book one, where Viren couldn't see it but readers could, helps them keep track of the assassin's story arc while maintaining Viren's racism.

So in book two, in which Runaan has no onscreen scenes (alas), using his name in a scene that calls back to the events in book one helps us remember what happened in that dungeon cell. It would be a bit muddier to recall the specifics if Viren kept thinking about Runaan as "Elf." So I'm cool with the perspective nudge because it serves a narrative purpose: clarity. But I'm also enjoying the angst of considering that, somehow, Viren learned Runaan's name either during or after the coining spell. Mwa ha ha haaa. (Obligatory "Keep my pretty name outta your mouth" goes here)

Okay, back to Viren's scheming! He took the mirror because it was human-sized in a dragon lair. He knew it didn't really fit there, and that made it interesting, so he stole it. But he realized it was really powerful when Runaan wouldn't tell him squat about it - the assassin's instinct to protect Xadian secrets from human hands meant that Viren was holding a very powerful Xadian secret. And that just made him want it all the more. Ah, Runaan, if only your relationship with lying was, like, the exact opposite of what it is. Nyx could've spun Viren a believable tale in 2 minutes flat.

Also of interest: Viren considers his cursed coins to be a final fate. He expects Runaan to remain in his coin forever. With the Chekhov's coins still extant in the storyline, we can assume that they'll come up again eventually, but Viren has no current plans to do anything with his elf money except carry it around.

It's worth noting that Viren admits that he got impatient when he trapped Runaan in the coin. Runaan's first fate in Katolis was supposed to be death at Soren's hands, but Claudia "saved" him from that. His next fate was to become spell components, but Viren's frustration with his stubbornness "saved" him from that fate, too. So now he's in a coin, where no one can chop him up at all. Yay? No, boo!

We get one last line about Runaan before Viren shifts gears: he makes a point of noting for us that Runaan's shackles are still locked shut. However much of Runaan made it into that coin - body, soul, hair care products - he was magicked there, pulled right out of his restraints.

The creepy black liquid that Viren pours right into his eyes is the last of a powerful potion he got from Kpp'Ar, and its recipe is ancient! Humans used it back in the age of Elarion to see through the illusions of the world. And we get a delightfully creepy bit of description about the preparation of this serum, which makes it abundantly clear that it's a Moon magic-based concoction, harvested from eyeless vipers on a moonless night, with the threat of irrevocable madness ("madness" by whose definition, though) if it's done wrong-

Hang on. Hold up. This is a Plato's Cave reference. OH MY GOD.

No no I'm fine, this is brilliant. Sorry, sorry, I couldn't figure why there was so much description for a potion prep that Viren didn't even have to perform himself. But now I get it. I see the light. HA. I should make a separate post for this, it's amazing.

Anyway, for reference, the humans who used this serum were called the Oracles of Ophidia, and Ophidia is a taxonomy group that includes all modern snakes. Can you say "creepy ancient snake rites"? I can! Woo!

Viren activates the serum with a spell, but apparently he's never done it before. He's not sure if it's supposed to be hot and bubbly, and he worries that it's been tainted by moonlight.

Oh, I do hope so.

The magic potion hurts, a lot. Viren will do just about anything, to himself or anyone, to do what he believes is necessary. He just risked madness and blindness to find out what this mirror does! Viren. Can you just. Take a nap or something. Have a Snickers.

This chapter gives us a fun clue that I don't remember from the show: when Viren's vision clears and he can see, his reflection has white pupils and the room reflected in the mirror has inverted colors. You know where else has inverted colors?

You know who else got white pupils for a hot second?

Okay, now it makes sense! Viren and Lujanne were both seeing into the realm beyond life and death. Him with his moon magic potion, and her with her moon powers on a full moon night at the Moon Nexus. Which is Very Interesting! Is it a direct hint about Aaravos's location, or just a separate cool detail? Orrr, does it look like a direct hint because Aaravos is actually trapped in the world beyond life and death, but it's actually separate and we'll see something about white pupils again later on?

Viren really does have self-esteem issues, we all picked up on it with his rant at his reflection. He throws a fit when he catches himself wondering if he's actually worthless. In the book version of his tantrum, he shoves the mirror and hurls a candelabra instead of flipping a table. He didn't need to shove the mirror to set the fire, but it's in here. Foreshadowing that perhaps, if push comes to shove, Viren will choose himself over Aaravos? Giving Aaravos time to peek through and see that the coast is clear?

Soren, my boyyyyy. He has a rough night at the Moon Nexus because two sides of him are fighting with each other. He struggles to understand Callum's friendship with Rayla, and he also fantasizes about chopping off Rayla's head. One of these is a pretty ordinary thing to do. The other is Soren's internalization of what he needs to do to gain his father's approval. If he brought his dad a chopped off elf head every week, he'd probably feel a lot more confident because Viren would praise him a lot more.

Okay, okay, omg, is it just me, or does the "Moonshadow Madness" story, as it's told in the book, seem like Soren just doesn't know what a monsterfucker is? He thinks an elf bite puts humans under a spell. But vampires are sexy, and some people want them to do more to them than just bite them. A passionate kiss under the moonlight could look very bitey, especially if one of the participants has horns and you're already culturally trained to hate them. No yeah, I'm already headcanoning an actual human-elf kiss that got misunderstood by an observer long ago.

it's Lujanne isn't it, we all know, because what is a love spell but a sweet soft illusion, I mean how else does she get supplies for her Caldera, I ask you, and also Corvus was totally sent to investigate once and he told Soren at camp what he saw

And then back to magefam angst: Soren pretending that his sister's nose-tapping is stupid, even though he actually thinks it's cool, just because their dad thinks it's stupid. Viren, istg. Let your kids like harmless things. It's so cute that Soren taps his nose back at her, though! Like they have their own sibling code. I hope we get to see the nose tap again, especially now that they've chosen different sides. It could mean so much, that they're not too far apart yet.

Rayla knows what buttery pancakes smell like. I love this. Do Moonshadow elves have butter and pancakes, does Rayla eat a stack of eight giant pancakes in the morning? Orrrr it is just illusion food? I don't care, let Rayla have pancakes! Everyone loves pancakes. Pancakes will save the world. this message brought to you by the fact that I can't eat pancakes rn, send help

I love that Rayla is both sus of the pancakes and hungry, and that combines into a very motivated "I will get to the bottom of this" attitude. She kind of goes into Poirot Mode when she inserts herself into Soren and Ellis's conversation about Ava, explaining about the wolf's illusion leg and segueing into her claim that the pancakes taste sus. Claudia confirms she used dark magic, and Rayla is furious. It's different than the show's version in that it puts Rayla in detective mode, as the only Moonshadow elf in the scene, and boy does she take that role seriously. Also, she doesn't actually swallow the dark magic pancake bite. It ends up on the ground just like Lujanne's grubs from that earlier meal. These poor kids are so nutrient-starved. You guys gotta eat!!

Rayla's determination and prejudices and the fact that she super knows Harrow is dead all dovetail to make her try repeatedly to persuade Callum that Soren and Claudia are Not To Be Trusted. It's nice that the book keeps taking the time to point out that Rayla is Well Intentioned But Flawed, just like Callum and pretty much every other character in the show. No one is Right All The Time, no one Knows More Than Everyone Else.

Callum loving the sound of Claudia's unique voice is so wholesome. When you like someone, it only makes sense that you like all the things about them that they can't change - like the sound of Claudia's voice. Her choices with dark magic, not so much!

Claudia seems to have the same concerns Soren does about Callum's relationship with Rayla, but she comes out and asks him. The inherent possession implied in "your elf" is interesting, though. Elves are not people to Claudia. They're enemies who can be disassembled for the magic inside them. So maybe more like robots than living beings, if she knew what a robot was. Maybe she heard Soren's "Moonshadow Madness" story and realized he totally missed the kissing implications - but she didn't, and now she's genuinely worried that Rayla could kiss Callum under a full moon and enchant him to do her will. Good thing it's only a half moon, then!

Okay, Callum nervously making a puppet hand and then not knowing what to do with his hands and freaking out about itching and moving and pointy elbows is such a ND mood. The sudden stress of knowing that someone else is noticing your existence and maybe you're Not Existing Right, amirite? Ugh, poor Callum.

The Moon Temple! Omg it's so pretty in the description! Made to be beautiful and useful, full of knowledge but also allowing light and life inside (butterflies and vines). Lujanne, when can I move in, please? Also, it's all the more angsty because Lujanne is the only one who gets to see this beautiful place, but it has lots of chairs and shelves and tables, and it was meant to be used by lots of people. :(((

Claudia knows some of the runes on the walls. She isn't in a hurry to copy the rest of them down or anything, either. Her spellwriting is very precise, and she's a skilled mage. Her father would have made sure she was aware of the dangers of drawing sloppy runes, as much as he made her aware of the dangers of doing dark magic wrong. And the whole point of dark magic is that it's easier to learn than primal magic. Claudia supports her dad and their shared knowledge and life path. She's not gonna go nuts over an elf library she can't translate.

Side note: Between Claudia knowing some Moon runes and Viren building a secret passageway and a dungeon and lighting it with the same blue crystals that Lujanne and Ethari use for light--and Claudia exclaiming that she loves ruins--I wonder once more if there are really Moonshadow ruins somewhere in Katolis, which Viren has found and looted. Father-daughter relic hunting trip, maybe while Soren is away at camp? Omgsh that would be so wild!

Callum out here having a Viren moment with his "I feel powerless unless I've got magic that lets me help" vibes. God. I love their complicated mirroring. One of the hard differences between them is that Callum is very sure dark magic is bad because you have to kill stuff and take its power to cast spells, and he doesn't want to be a person who kills and takes like that. The line he walks to be nice to Claudia on their tour of the Cursed Caldera because he likes her, while telling her that he doesn't want to do her magic, like, ever, is so fine that it might as well be a shifting shadow on the ground. It's a very fitting conversation to be having during the half moon, with its tricks and little white lies.

Callum being out of the castle and his comfort zone, having to deal with the fact that the Claudia he loves is not quite the Claudia who's chasing him down across the kingdom, but of the two of them, he's the only one with a problem with this.

They say that if you really want to get to know someone, you should spend time with them outside their comfort zone - in heavy traffic, with a small baby, taking care of a new pet, trying a new skill, following unfamiliar directions, etc. While the castle is familiar territory for them both, Callum's never really found his comfort zone yet, while Claudia is pretty comfortable with her growing skill set. The creepy part starts to kick in when Callum begins to realize that Claudia's comfort zone encompasses a whole bunch of stuff that seems like it should make her uncomfortable... but it doesn't. But that'll be for a future chapter!

#book two: sky spoilers #book two: sky #b2:s #tdp spoilers #viren #harrow #rayla #runaan #callum #claudia #soren #lujanne #moonshadow elves #aaravos

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thecaptainhelm · 4 years

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Shut Your Mouth

Small daminette one-shot, aged up characters. Close to Robin V’’s retirement, close to Hawkmoth’s defeat.

Word count: 1350

Enjoy!

----

Robin irately observed the spotted hero sitting on top of the stairs leading to the second floor. She seemed to like high places, he noted to himself. She was currently using her yoyo’s compact form, tapping and scrolling through something.

The hero in question had been Ladybug, Scarlet Luck of the city of Paris. She’d come all the way from the JLE headquarters to the JLA ground site to receive tutelage under Batman and Red Robin themselves. That meant she wasn’t hopeless at least, but he didn’t see that as an accomplishment.

However, he could admit that she was a competent hero and good at what she did. He wouldn’t tolerate a daytime hero otherwise. She was good at improvisation and quick-witted, well organized and well spoken. She was decisive and leveraged herself as a pillar of strength and support for the citizens of Paris, her team included.

In that way, Robin and Ladybug had quietly bonded, being leaders of their own team and often sitting in silence together as they worked on their own tasks. It was neither amicable nor awkward, at least now and for the time being, merely productive.

And regardless of what Grayson said, he did not like her. At all. In fact, there were a number of things he detested in regards to her character.

First, there was her lack of confidence. While her image as the certain and sure-footed Ladybug was maintained by the lack of media coverage and professional conduct, she was more unsure of herself than not despite her blatant skills, effectively crippling her investigation into Hawkmoth’s identity, the most crucial aspect of her job.

The moment someone’s opinion differed from her own she would second guess her decisions, wasting time and brain cells on a different perspective when all she needed were the facts and her own conviction.

Next, was her inane denial. She constantly proclaimed that Chat Noir was her partner, but where she saw an equal, the rest of the world saw ‘sidekick’. Granted, the cat hero could perform well, he wouldn’t still be here if he couldn’t, but he clearly did not contribute as much as he should be.

The one left to do all the planning, coming up with strategy after strategy, as well as resuscitating the dead, dying, and brainwashed, was Ladybug. He was a sidekick who needed to stop being coddled so that he could reach his full potential.

Lastly, was her leadership role. It was solid and her team didn’t question her judgement, he would give her that, but her team members weren’t solid enough to be relied upon. Chat was a one trick pony, more often a hindrance than not, Queen Bee had ultimately ruined any chance of wielding a miraculous again, Ryuko didn’t follow orders, Carapace was overtly prioritizing Rena Rouge over the rest of the team and Rena Rouge was recklessly endangering herself and others by either giving away her position, or clinging so close to the other heroes that she was a direct inconvenience.

And don’t even get him started on Viperion. One of Ladybug’s few competent allies and he retires?! For what reason, when he’s only participated in less than ten skirmishes, the lout. She needed to establish more than the ground rules, she needed to make clear expectations.

So, no. He did not like Ladybug. He didn’t hate her either. She did her job, worked with what she had, and left him to his own devices whenever they’d interact.

Except for now. Sort of.

Technically she hadn’t said anything, but every now and then she would glance up from her compact and thoughtfully observe his tight expression.

“Speak up or stop gawking,” he finally snapped. Ladybug’s thoughtful gaze quickly glimmered into something else, but it was gone before he could identify it.

“Trouble in Jump?” Robin didn’t care for being figured out so easily.

“Jump is none of your concern.”

She tilted her head. “No, but it is yours’s. Tell me about it?”

He just glared darkly, and she raised her hands in surrender.

“Okay, I get it. I wasn’t asking to be nosy or anything, you just seem less stoic than usual, like you’re upset or angry, so I wanted to offer an ear,” she waved her hands, a foolish tell she needed to correct.

“Upset? Angry?!” He leaped up to pace around the room, cape swirling being him.

“I’m neither of those paltry emotions, angry and upset cannot begin to communicate sheer fury that boils in me!” His cadence was fast and biting.

“How much more will I have to fight to keep my position as leader of the Titans?! Have I not proven myself time and again to be trustworthy, yet my efforts are only met with scrutiny and skepticism as though I’m still that same child from all those years ago,” he dragged a hand through his hair without dislodging his hood.

“What more do they want from me, what more could I possibly give them to prove myself, how--how do I…” he trailed off from his rant, mutely horrified.

“...Robin?” Ladybug hesitantly called. “Um--?!” He rushed to stand above her on the steps.

“You will speak of this to no one.” He threatened. Her worried expression quickly flipped to that of annoyance.

“Yeah, I gathered,” She scoffed sarcastically and stood on a higher step, looking down at him.

He gritted his teeth. “You want something, so name it.”

“Pardon?”

“You wouldn’t offer something without knowing you’d receive benefits, so let’s just get this--”

“Oh Mon Dieu!” she groaned under her palm. “I’m not blackmailing you, moron. I--”

“Who are you calling moron?!” he growled.

“Just look up, damn it!” she snapped. He brashly tilted his head up.

“What--!” could looking up tell me about this situation, is what he would’ve said, but the world just…

It was as if time slowed to a crawl. Every nerve ending, each skin cell gained a hyper awareness rare outside of combat.

What…

He could feel hot, gentle puffs of air on his right cheek. Heat was effusing through his body, soft and tender. Ladybug was closer than she’d ever been, close enough to see the detailed fibers of her mask. Ladybug was close because Ladybug was kissing him.

Why was she…? Robin couldn’t think, everything was focused on Ladybug. She pressed down and his head further tilted, accommodating her completely. Her lips were warm, sliding against his silkily, parting to slip her tongue into his mouth. The air got hotter.

Why am I…? Her tongue was slowly and possessively wrapping around his. He still couldn’t think. Then, it was over all too soon.

Ladybug pulled away with a quiet noise and he leaned into her space, eyes belatedly flickering open. When had he closed them?

“...” Robin gazed up, stunned.

“That’s...not why I offered, but I got lost in the moment,” Her blue eyes were steel, unyielding. Unapologetic. Strength left his limbs, the only reason he was still standing was because of sheer pride and willpower.

“...”

“Robin, I offered because it looked like you wanted to shut yourself away. I know what that looks like, from others as well as myself. It’s not a good mindset to be in, and I wouldn’t let you sink to that without at least trying to talk to you.” She bit her lip and he locked onto the motion behind his mask, frozen stiff.

“I...I don’t know what to say and I don’t know how to help, but I do know that I can at least listen to you so you can know that you’re heard. That you’re being understood.” She brought up her compact and input some command and his utility belt beeped.

“I just sent you my contact information. Call me whenever, for whatever.” She clasped her hand on his shoulder as she descended the stairwell.

“I gotta go deal with an akuma. See you later, yeah?”

“....”

Just like that, Robin was left alone in the break lounge, halfway up the staircase and gaping up at the ceiling like a complete imbecile. Red, weak-kneed, and utterly stupefied.

What…?

-----

The end. Now validate me.

#daminette #maribat #mlb x dc #oneshot #ficlet #maridami #marinette x damian

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ravenwolfie97 · 2 years

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2021 Art Summary

The time old tradition continues. I’ll be honest; this year was rough. Like, I scraped the bottom of the barrel for most of these months. Very little art was accomplished (or, at least, completed), and I had felt pretty bad about that the last couple months. But, as it turns out, I wasn’t alone in that. Every other artist I’ve seen has said they’ve been in the exact same boat. So I’m glad now that I could do what I could this year. And now, as always, I’ll share my journey through this year with you!

normally i don’t hide these under a readmore but this one kinda got away from me and i wanted to spare your and my dashboards this time

HEY SO remember when i said i would work on my TOME Fan Animations every day all year? hahaha Yeah That Didn’t Happen I spent like ten days out of the month tops, and in that time I really only worked a little bit on storyboards and got almost all of my character’s talksprites redone. And I do like them! But yeah. I honestly don’t even know what will become of that project, if anything, at this point.

In addition to that, I participated yet again in Gotta Draw ‘Em All on deviantArt with Grookey as my muse. What a lil cutie. Sadly, this was the final event for that group, but I’m glad I was there to contribute to it.

I also continued my TOME server’s art challenge tradition of making a TOMERPG character from scratch, and Zeitgeist was born. I just think it’s got a cool design :>

Also! New thing I’m doing for this summary: some WIPs! because I did a lot of them and I’m upset that I didn’t ever get to finish them! So to kick it off here’s one that began in January and was last updated in June: a “six fanarts” part three exclusively for cute girls

okay let’s continue

i’ll tell you right now that this year is comprised of a lot of sketches because digital art was too hard or too time- or energy-consuming, so i tried to make them look really nice this time

This was the height of my Genshin fever, and the only prescription was playing it more and finally attempting to draw and write some stuff with it. Razor was the first actual character I drew, mainly cuz I love him lots, but also cuz I thought his design would lend well to my style. I also made myself a Genshin sona, as well as ones for Michael and Val (not shown cuz i couldn’t get a design figured out for Val at all): Raven (me) is a Hydro sword user, Michael is an Anemo bow user, and Val is a Pyro claymore user. Wanted to try my hand at making my own Genshin-esque designs after having lots of opinions on the actual characters and doing a bunch of edits on some of them.

My Pokemon 25th anniversary pic was late, so it goes in here. I had such a fun time emulating Sugimori’s modern art style... even if it took forever to do.

Also Astra (my nb genshin traveler) got a redesign and I still haven’t made a proper ref for it. But they do look a lot cooler. I drew them at work :>

I wanted to draw more genshin, so I asked for genshin to draw, and I attempted only one. but Venti was a good one. Got into Montero (Call Me By Your Name) too much and got Val vibes, and also watched Queer ✨ too much and loved the bisexual lighting in the third act too much, so. yeah. mix em together and that’s what i got And in a twist of fate, Tales of Lostclan re-entered my brain space because The Creator Found My Post and contacted me about it and we started chatting and it was great so I drew a Pepperpaw gijinka and named him Aiden.

Another WIP I wanted to share was my sketch for another TOME server art challenge, with Zetto in the Zero Escape universe. I really liked the prompt but again, digitization was my enemy this year.

moving on!

These are literally the only two things that happened this month. And they were both pretty late in. Drawing Diluc is easy to explain; I love him and wanted to try and draw him. The other one is much more interesting.

My friend @mew-cake started reading To Your Eternity (which later on in the year became an anime), and I enjoyed the bits and pieces she liveblogged. She posted something along the lines of “i wish i could write a story like this” and i was like Hell Yes let’s do it together. So we got to work, making a story I tentatively call Spirit of the Earth about an angel wanting to learn what life on Earth is like so it lives first as a tree, then a bird, then a cat, and then a variety of different humans. My recent fascination with philosophy and the themes Cake found within To Your Eternity inspired us to think on lots of aspects of life and love and hurt, and it was kinda beautiful. We should revisit it sometime.

i lied kind of, i really wanted to get this picture of Xiao done too. but i did not. here is the sketch tho

and even though we were working on one original story, at the very end of the month, there was another idea coming together...

SURPRISE, IT’S A DIFFERENT ORIGINAL STORY. It’s okay, we didn’t expect this either, but it happened anyway.

Cake had been saying that it would be cool for the two of us to be cast as anime rivals, and I was like yeah that would be cool. And then I had the most massive shower thought on that and it spiraled into this story premise. As much as I would love to completely gush about this new story, I wanna still keep most of it under wraps, so I’ll give a basic rundown. The two main characters, the “anime rivals” as they were initially, are Roxy (red/sketch) and Lalun (blue/full color), who have the powers of the Sun and the Moon respectively. In a world full of alchemical magic where many people control elements based on the solar system, Roxy and Lalun are two special cases and they’re being forced to fulfill a cosmic destiny for reasons largely unknown to them. Other characters here include: Alex (purple/sketch) who has the powers of Venus, which in this world corresponds with electricity; and Oliver (green/full color) who has the powers of Saturn, which are oriented with gravity control and telekinesis. These kids all go to school together and get into horrible situations against their will (and even at their will, sometimes). So all in all, it’s a time :3

One day we’ll show off all of our art for this, but for now, I’ll just give ya all the good stuff I did.

ALSO. WIP TIME BECAUSE I AM SO UPSET I NEVER REMEMBERED TO FINISH THIS. I liveblogged about SK8 The Infinity around this time too, and I loved it, and I drew parallels between the two main characters of that show with my two main OCs from The Dark Side: War on Destiny. So I drew Reki and Kyle together being cool bros

okay anyway

My Genshin brainrot has started to fade around now and it’d been replaced with Cosmic Legacy brainrot instead. I just... we loved these kids so much, man. So much cool stuff. Lots of funny filler. A whole bunch of suffering. Y’know. The usual.

I’ll just say it now too that most of August just had a few more Cosmic sketches. Not very much was happening with me creatively, and things were starting to grind me down. And, well... eventually things took a turn, and...

UH WHOOPS I GOT A GIRLFRIEND AND HER NAME IS STACEY AKA @wolf-of-hearts-den?????

Yeah, that also happened very suddenly. And we both had a lot of feelings to work out. It was a lot, and we couldn’t handle it very well - Stacey especially... considering the fact she had Two Partners now n all... but it all worked out. And all in all, it was an awesome moment, and a great turning point for me.

WIP time helps break up this part of the summary and i’m also pissed i couldn’t get this done in time because it was actually a timely piece. i started to do a 10 year anniversary redraw i’d been planning for Years and chickened out when it came to doing the background. so have this comparison with my Animal Jam OC Ferret for now

okay back to girlfriend um

this was honestly really tough to make hkjbbjlk Since our relationship started pretty late into the last month, our feelings spilled out more into the month after. And Boy Howdy, were there feelings. If I can be a little transparent, being able to freely express sexual feelings and thoughts with someone you trust is literally one of the most wonderful things. It’s just one more thing I don’t have to completely hide, and it feels awesome to be able to tell someone. And to have someone think of you and want you in that way? Absolutely insane. It still boggles my mind that someone can love me the way Stacey does. Honestly incredible.

also it’s not like i didn’t make any non-horny art during that time. they were just the only things i put effort into jklhjkl MOTIVATION HITS WHEN IT HITS, Y’ALL

this isn’t a WIP but it is more cosmic art i can share

ok back to the program. god the art summary is off the rails this year

Among some more girlfriend-related material, Stacey and Cake and I also had an aggie.io session where I drew some of my OCs poorly. Featured here are Sierra from Legends: Children of the Dragons, Mamoru from Cat Devil, and Val... from my brain. He’s just cool.

there was actually very little else than this, and that continued into...

Yeah, barely anything happened this month. The RW ref is only half-finished, and I had meant to get that done in August. But I gave it to someone to actually use as reference here, so it counts, okay?

Here we have an actually decent picture of another Cosmic Legacy character named Mercutio, who’s the not-so-good guy. But he does good things for people. He’s a good father... right?

and then Stacey came up with a game in a dream called Everbound and I had to make at least a mock-up title screen for it. Thank you for getting me to make an art to fill the screen up, babe

Thank God I got the inspiration to finally do that TWEWY self-insert pic only a few days ago, or else this would have been very empty. Additionally we have A Cool Character That Shall Not Be Explained on the right, whom I have added mainly because they are very cool and a piece of art that I completed in this month that I am proud of, as well as another Cool Character that I would be happy to explain about. So Stacey had recently been coming up with their own original story universe thing that’s essentially a radioactive wasteland full of animal mutants and hybrids. It’s mostly an excuse to make rad furry character designs, and I was all in on all of it, so I wanted to try and join in, so I made Calista! She’s a housecat/jellyfish hybrid with the ability to poison and shock people cuz that’s what jellyfish do. Haven’t done much with her, but she was a fun little character design challenge to do if nothing else :>

ANYWAY yeah this year sucked art-wise, but it was a good time regardless. I got a steady full-time job, I got car-driving abilities, and most importantly I have a lovely partner and wonderful friends to keep me sane and feel loved. No matter what happens in this year to come, all I know is I’ll make the most of it, and still find some things to make me happy.

...and maybe i’ll finally get some of those WIPs done OK BYE

#my art stuff #art summary #I DON'T CARE IF IT ISN'T THE 1st ANYMORE #CLOSE ENOUGH #idk if i'll boost this later or not

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kouhaiofcolor · 3 years

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2020's finally over. Can we not go into 2021 pacifying texturism w "It's just hair" tho?

It was "just hair" until Black Women started exercising the freedom to discover the unique needs & maintenance beneficial to our hair. Then as soon as non black women got wind of it & the nerve to lurk on platforms the natural hair community was uprising thru, nowadays you've got all these non black women bandwagoning & hashtagging literally everything under the sun w/ this fake ass inclusiveness, advocacy, relatability & support for textured hair. Like all women have suffered oppression around wearing their real hair 😒. Like all races of women have been socially targeted in blatant discriminations against their hair texture, complexion, & how acceptable they are or are not together. I hate the "All Hair (Matters/Is Beautiful/Is 'Good Hair')" clout bc it talks over & totally overwrites the foundational issue around hair & toxic femininity that, at its misogynoir core, has always been that textured hair is unprofessional, unkempt, unmanageable, & ugly. Colorism also erases the initial creators of the movement — which were Monoracial Brown & Dark Skinned Black Women; put some respek onnat, period. Straight hair is not oppressed; wavy hair is not oppressed; all hair is not oppressed. Black hair is. This "all hair is good hair" bullshit is so monotonous & inconsiderate bc its almost like a passive aggressive refusal to acknowledge what antiblackness imposed on Black Women alone. None of you non black know what it's like in depth to be the descendants of a race of ppl who's features, traits & harmless existence have always been insulted, hated & envied by the whole world. Esp not all at once. That is something totally unique to us inflicted & imposed by everyone else since the beginning of time. So why be out here chasing clout under tags & movements & in spaces you are no real part of? Why wanna be a part of the Black Girl Experience that bad? Yall have identities in everything outside of us. Why vulture off of this like you even have reasons to be there? We were investing in ourselves & trying to teach generations of Monoracial Black People how to manage their hair texture & develop cathartic habits thru self care. Nb ppl ruined that.

Looser hair textures have omnipresent representation & acceptance all, over, the, world. There is no lack of being seen, romanticized or exemplified for having texture 1a-3b hair; esp on the prevalent basis around colorism we see regularly on social media & on tv. Yet what remains of the community as it stands is today the furthest thing from textured or Black at all. At this point we owe the decline (if not death) of the natural hair community to the parasitic latching of non black women, the infiltration of "pick me's" & antiblackness generally — but I still be feeling like even that's not direct enough. We're talking ab something authentic & wholesome for Monoracial Black Women created by us for us being straight up sabotaged by races of women the cause was totally irrelevant to & in regard of. Bc that's how cosmetic industries have been towards us for centuries. Bc we were always excluded & thought of least & last. By other women. By all other women; don't get it twisted. So we set out on figuring ourselves out. Doing research on our own. Incorporating self care & beneficial habits in our lives to nourish & feel better ab ourselves & disprove the racist shit non black cultures & ppl either ignorantly surmise, make up or project ab Black Girls. That includes Black Men too in case yall thought yall were safe. Yall are some of the most toxic & prevalent faces behind colorism, antiblackness & misogynoir among black ppl specifically.

But anyhow. At first a lot of the initiation of the vulturing in the nhc light skinned women were the face of. Esp w the clout around having 4c hair amongst the beige-est, most ambiguously or straight up non black individuals, good lord. Then it went mainstream for huwight ppl, whom enevitably invited themselves, & following were the masses of non black women looking to pillage for themselves while the community was being swallowed by the crowdedness & irrelevant content being put out there (specifically on YouTube, Twitter & Instagram) by "hair gurus" of the light skinned, biracial or non black texture 1a-3b variety. Hair gurus who literally may as well've fallen from the sky & met social media stardom overnight based on their hair texture & complexion alone they're so brand new. Hair gurus who aren't even in the community for legitimately informative reasons or purposes unionized in Blackness. They're whole natural hair niche be — as a favorite natural of mine put it — manipulating textured hair into a sort of submission to appear or behave like looser textures do. They'll swear by 'game changer' products they both mention & only use like once & insist you should invest in a $30 8oz. bottle of clarifying shampoo or a $35 cowash if you want your hair to behave & look like theirs. Again, mind you, these types of individuals casually claim having texture 4 hair when they're anything but, just for the attention it brings from both ppl who will gullibly follow their every word & who know what kind of scamming to look for & won't.

If it's "just hair", how come so many of you that are non black are riding the wave? If it's just hair, why have so many of you found refuge in using the hashtags & participating/contributing uninvited? How come so many ran to get a seat at the table w Black Women only to kick them to the side the more popular it became if its just hair? How come nobody was calling it natural hair before Black Women created the nhc & started growing their own? Why was there no natural hair community before Black Women coined it, reminder, for ourselves? If it's just hair, how come so many ran to youtube to begin w to start channels for their own non-textured journeys? If its just hair, why is the nhc so damn obsessed w defining curls & length than overall health & gradual growth? If its just hair, why are white girls anywhere near this? Yall are the most out of place of anyone, honestly. Even if you're curly. Why do light skinned girls get to both represent textured hair & "good hair"? How does that even make sense? Thats just putting monoracial black girls in isolated boxes they're not even allowed to be symbols of or in. If its just hair, why's it so unheard of to see the roles of Black female characters in just ab anything played by actual Black Women? If its just hair, why have so many non or partially Black women worked in ignorant succession to water down & essentially wash out the Monoracial Black Women vital to the community's relevance at all? I really do not get the involvement of non black women in this movement at all — esp when culturally you have no reason to call your hair natural. There are no & have never been prejudice notions around having or growing texture 1a-3b hair. There's nothing oppressive ab it, either. Yall have gotta stop w that. You've already made a mockery of something that was supposed to be beautiful by making yourselves comfortable in & hijacking our space itfp. Theres far too much misrepresentation of textured hair to keep up w now. This is why i say the nhc (as well as culture vulturing generally) has just become nbwoc copying white women copying light skinned women copying Black Women, bc the audacity is unreal.

Its not just hair tho. To those it applies to, yall proved that the minute Black Women started going public w their growth journeys. The minute conversations ab "shrinkage this & 4c that" broadened & went mainstream. Yall couldn't move all at once fast enough when you realized you weren't as special as you thought & had always been told — esp w melanin at its modern value. Now all yall either "natural", seeking black men for either casual sex or cultural infiltration via fetishised reproduction, certain you have texture 4 hair or know the best tips for a DIY silk press 🤭😂 yall can't sit w us. You don't belong here. I'm calling yall out on allll the bs around this "All Hair Matters" garbage, cus yall are now sputtering the same shit while literally wearing your own non black hair in black styles. Be consistent. Make some fucking sense. I don't wanna be part of this fake ass girl squad propaganda that says every other woman never looked at Black Women's hair like it was bottomest of the barrel, foh. We're not on the same team & yall know it.

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cadomoisspokenfor · 3 years

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Legion Rewatch Notes,

Chapter 8:

The Revolution

Aw man, how unfortunate what’s happened to Clark. I feel soooooooo bad. I mean he was just humble div 3 agent, doing his job, gaslighting marginalized individuals, participating in a genocide. How cruel of those bad bad mutants to injure him so badly. He was only actively about to kill David. What could he possibly have done to deserve any of this?

In other words, the Clark propaganda is not working on me this time. At all.

Maybe don’t participate in a genocide? Idk :/

I normally hate when people type in the passive aggressive way I have been for the past few paragraphs, but goddamn, Clark deserves it.

He’s not quite as damaged... but he’s kind’ve like old David here, from the over-medicated living with Amy timeline. Again, not quite as damaged as that though.

Clark considers mutants a “threat to democracy.” 🙄 “Moral panic” I guess?

“The second I walk outta this room, i’m going to war.” There’s that word again. Clark could just... not, and they’d probably have more time to figure out how to safely eradicate Farouk. But because he doesn’t and David busies himself with peace treaties, Farouk escapes and continues to be a problem for the next year. Clark has a family. A husband and child who love him to death. And he chooses war over them. This pattern will repeat in other character. Technically this isn’t even the start of it.

Suit change, new cane, same Clark. This really doesn’t change anything, does it? He could go through the rest of the series in the suit he wore before and it wouldn’t make difference. The valiant hero dressing for an expected victory over their long time (relatively) rival, only to be stopped immediately by an unforeseen development. This pattern will repeat... tragically.

Considering Farouk!David woulda just dusted them, it’s probably nice for his friends to see the real him is much less violent. He just stacks em like a Jenga Tower, no need for anything more.

Also, Wilhelm scream from one of the soldiers.

He’s also talking strangely. In an almost too calm voice. Measured. He talks like this a few other times, but I think those times have sadder context. Maybe they reflect on this moment. He talks like how he talked when Farouk was mind-melded with him, but his intentions aren’t evil this time around. I guess this is just his “fully in control” voice.

Clark’s literally shaking where he stands.

The zoom in to Clark’s blind eye is reminiscent to previous zoom in’s to Walter’s foggy eye. I guess Clark has taken on the role of Walter, artificially. Makes sense since he’s now the main D3 representative/antagonist like Walter was before.

“I don’t care if you save me, or the world, if you don’t save yourself.” David will eventually choose himself over the world, and Syd. And Syd will hunt him for it. Goes to show how much things change in s2.

“You know the most dangerous thing about schizophrenia?”

“You’re not-“

“The most dangerous thing is believing... you don’t have it! That’s the trick, the mind killer, your disease convinces you you don’t have it. So, for example, one day in the hospital you meet a girl and she has some friends, and they tell you you’re not sick. You have superpowers. And more than anything you wanna believe it because that means you’re not crazy! That means you can fall in love and live happily ever after. But you know if you believe it, if you surrender to the hope and you’re wrong, then... you’re never coming back.”

“I’m here. I’m real. The power is real. You gotta accept it, otherwise we can’t move on.”

“I was in Clockworks for six years. Drugged, doing nothing. Contributing nothing. And now, finally I can be useful! I can help! Don’t you get it? I am so sick of myself. This only works if it’s not about me.”

“David...”

So... that’s a lot. David believes being crazy means he’s not allowed to fall in love, or be happy. He said the same sentiment to Amy before Clockworks. This whole season and this episode especially push David into his full “I’m not insane, I won’t believe you if you tell me otherwise” mindset. At the very least that’s the stakes we’re playing with. If David fully gives into the hope, even for a moment, he believes there’s no possibility for recovery. No possibility for love or happiness. Why even try after that? It’s life or death for him. “If the choice is between life and death, I choose life.”

I know this is all already known and talked about and circulated 100’s of times over in various fan circles, but it’s probably the most important line for David’s character (the speech, not the Farouk quote). It’s very ableist, yes, but at least in the moment it’s coming from someone who’s just being too hard on themselves, and not ya know, being actively validated by the show.

2 episodes ago David talked about being worried about an “invincible” feeling. The dangers of mania.

We also know from that episode that David is more at peace in a calm, responsibilityless setting (with Syd) than he is out in the real world. David’s gonna take on a ton of responsibility, some of it’s gonna draw him away from Syd. At multiple moments throughout the show David has known his own mental health better than any of the others, and even warned them about potentially dangerous slopes he could fall down without their help. Despite this, David is pushed further down a path he tells them is dangerous and is still blamed for what happens in the end. I feel like Oliver’s line from ep4 is relevant here again, “We are the root of all our problems. Our anger, our confusion, our fear of things we don’t understand.” Everyone wants David to be something other than... David. A hero, a god, there projected image of a perfect partner. Not just... David.

Man, the more I realize about David’s self-awareness in s1 the madder I am at Syd for saying all that ableist stuff to him in s2 as if he wasn’t already down on himself 24/7. “It never occurred to you that you’re the problem not the solution?” It’s occurred to him like 5 times by now and has been shut down by you at least 3 of those times. I don’t understand.

What’s strange is... to my recollection David doesn’t believe he’s invincible at the end of s2. Or that he’s not sick.

“Saint David.”

“I’m not saying that. I make mistakes.”

“Say you’re gonna let them kill me if I don’t let them turn me into something different. Something easy. Something clean.” He sounds sinister here, but it is an indication that he knows he’s not perfect. In fact it sounds like he’s trying to appeal to Chap 1 Syd’s mentality. Your disorder is what “makes you you.”

So what’s the message here?

“We can’t just kill people. Or is that who we are now?”

“That’s who they are.”

The justification for killing here is that they’ll kill them if they don’t. Div 3 will kill Summerland if Summerland doesn’t kill Div 3, is what I meant. David has a similar justification for killing Shadow King in s2. Well, he has a LOT of justifications for it, but that’s one of them. Syd doesn’t hear it then either. She does attempt to kill David herself though. I don’t quite understand where the line is.

“He was gonna kill you, twice.”

“With that kind of thinking wars would never end.”

So... he shoulda just talked to The Shadow King when they were both powerless? Talking is what ultimately ends their fight in s3... hmm...

Cary is more humane to their POW than Melanie and Ptonomy are.

The show doesn’t necessarily say it was Cary’s fault for leaving Kerry. Either way though, Kerry needs some space.

Melanie calls David a “world breaker” and outright says now that he knows that’s what he is, div 3 doesn’t stand a chance. I suppose... knowing that... is why they so readily team with Farouk. They stood no chance otherwise. Even then, at least hide him away till after the intervention.

David’s floating meditation pose is seen more in s2 and A LOT more in s3.

He puts the onus of ending the war on Div 3. As if to say, “If things get violent again, it’ll be on you, not us.”

People keep talking about “gods” “waking up” and “realizing they don’t have to listen to us/them anymore.”

When Clark says it David’s first response is, “Isn’t that the history of the world?” But it’s a red herring (or something else) cause he follows it up with, “People of different nations, different languages, learning to live together?”

Clark is afraid if mutants gain power they won’t show humans mercy or equality. This is a common belief among fascist. The “they’ll treat us like we treat them” argument. Only it’s rarely self-aware, and it isn’t here either. Clark genuinely believes he’s not doing anything wrong. It’s all somehow in “self defense.”

Ah, so Farouk and Syd are connected psychically. He entered her mind whenever she entered David’s. He psychically affects her at multiple points throughout the series.

Syd here is convinced to help The Shadow King by The Shadow King. And while he’s wearing a mask at that. Yeah yeah, this pattern will repeat. But still, Syd gives in relatively quickly here. Perhaps she just... doesn’t fully trust Summerlands capabilities? They are legitimately trying to get rid of Farouk, but Farouk has proven time and time again how dangerous he is. Or maybe the “unmake soup” thing is just that convincing to Syd.

Clark’s still standoffish, but he’s slowly becoming more cooperative.

Syd rolled a 4 on that hero speech. She needed at least a 7.

I legitimately NEVER noticed before that Syd secretly turns on the lab camera feed for Clark to watch. They weren’t trying to show him that.

David gets a chance to look back at his whole life and recontextualize everything.

David straight up halts Farouk’s theme. If Clockworks Podcast is right and he can hear that whenever Farouk shows up, this would be evidence of it. Alternatively, he was halting Farouk, and the music halting was for the audience. A fun subversion of expectations.

David describes him and Farouk as, “The Sun and Moon.”

Division 3 sees it. The monster they saw on infrared. Clearly a separate entity from David Haller. Clearly of a different disposition than David Haller as David Haller has acted very differently and non-hostile compared to when they saw him roaming those HQ halls. The monster and David are not the same. They see who their real enemy is now.

It seems evident there was no chance of David beating Farouk on his own here. I wonder why? Was it true? Is Farouk just too ingrained in his mind? Cary said he was like a, “Computer virus. Learning his systems, bypassing his defenses.” Maybe Syd remembered that, and that’s why she believed Farouk. Cause Cary had already said something similar before.

Clark could've escaped, but he stayed, then tried to help fight Farouk.

I feel really sad Oliver got possessed. It never occurred to me before he could even tell Melanie he remembered her. Melanie’ll just go on thinking he never remembered her for a year.

And thus it’s established. There are “good mutants” and there are “bad mutants.”

No one checks on Ptonomy :(

The Lenny that’s talking to Oliver here is still just Farouk.

Did the orb go back as far as it could? Or was this time specifically chosen? If it was chosen, it was probably because it’s very soon after Farouk had been expelled from David’s head, and before the big race for his body starts.

#legion fx

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whiskehorange · 4 years

Text

Under the Mistletoe

It’s that time of year, so here is the Christmas Special you all deserve for my absence since a month ago & for the few days past Xmas that I didn’t have a charger! I hope you all have a Merry Christmas (or whatever tickles your fancy!) and a Happy New Year!

Jason

The Tree:

You’ve got the widest array of large evergreen trees right in your front yard, so when you hear a large thump at your front door, that’s just Jason and the biggest tree you’ve ever seen. If you focus one the bottom half of the tree, he’ll get the top, and once the two of you are finished, he’ll raise you up so the both of you can put the star where it belongs!

The Baking:

Boy oh boy does this boy love to bake with you. Mainly focused on the decorating, the frosting, the sprinkles, and everything in between, you better hope you have enough baking sheets to fulfill the hundreds of sugar coated Christmas cookies Jason wants to make with you.

The Mistletoe:

A blushing madman whenever you happen to catch him under it. Of course, he’ll never deny a kiss from you, but it just makes him to soft and warm inside. Eventually, he’ll build up the courage to drag you over to the mistletoe and give you a dedicated kiss.

Michael

The Tree:

Like Jason, save the top of the tree for Michael to decorate, if you have one. He probably won’t go out of his way to buy you a tree or even hack you one down, but will make due with whatever his mother left up in the attic. You’ve got plenty of halloween decorations to put on the tree though...

The Baking:

Michael, baking? You’ve got a long day ahead of you. Good luck trying to get him to stay put to help with anything let alone him actually knowing what the fuck he’s doing. If you need any cookies or goodies cut up or diced, he’s your man. But you’ll notice cookies here and there missing from the dish every once in a while.

The Mistletoe:

Avoids it like the plague. Will purposefully walk the long way to avoid walking from under it. You’ll have to put it some where sneaky, like right in the back door and catch him when he walks in. Even then, he’ll give a defeated sigh and eventually give in, picking you up and letting you smother him.

Bubba

The Tree:

Yes! Yes! Yes! Get this boy in the decorating and party planning committee! It’s something nice for the two of you to do and boy does he love decorating. While most of the ornaments mights be bone fragments and other... spare parts, he’s pretty proud of the outcome. But just wait until he gets ahold of the tinsel. It’ll be draped across everything.

The Baking:

Don’t fret about not having any ingredients for yummy treats, everything you could ever imagine is here! And of course, so is Bubba. Decorating and topping off all of the cookies and treats is his favorite part, and he’s going to eventually make his own batch by himself all for you!

The Mistletoe:

It’s hung in e v e r y door frame, and he knows when you walk under one, no matter how quiet you’re walking.

Thomas

The Tree:

He’s always wanted a legit Christmas, but with Hoyt being such a grinch, he never has the chance. But Thomas finds everything about the traditions you show him to be so wonderful. The tree decorating is by far his favorite, even if there isn’t much to hang. Why don’t you both make some!

The Baking:

Oh, you’ve got Luda Mae tickled right to death. It’s one thing that she’s happy to have some time with Tommy to bake, but another to have you helping and shutting down Hoyt’s grouchy ass any time he walks into the kitchen. Thomas might walk out with a few flour prints on his behind, but it’s worth it.

The Mistletoe:

Personally puts it in the door to your bedroom. While he thought about the door to the basement, Hoyt tends to stand there a lot.... and no thanks. So at least now it’s a special place for the two of you to have to yourself!

Billy & Stu

The Tree:

Billy and Stu are definitely the type to get lazy and leave their tree up all year round, but when they do get the chance to decorate, each of you have a different job. Stu gets the lights, Billy on tinsel, and you on ornaments. But you know, most of the lights will end up being wrapped around all three of you, Good luck getting out of that.

The Baking:

Anything that happens in the kitchen turns into a food fight, wet or dry. Christmas music blaring and food flying across like a battlefield. Whatever the three of you end up baking never last a few days either way. From you and Billy taking a few at a time to Stu stuffing them in his pockets, good luck saving any for guests.

The Mistletoe:

Billy typically leave it with one hanging from the most walked through doorway, snaking his arms around your hips from time to time, while Stu always seems to have some stashed in his back pocket. Pucker up buttercup!

Norman

The Tree:

While every suit has their own tiny, simple tree, Norman can’t wait to put up the massive one him and his mother had. It takes a while to fully decorate, especially with some older Christmas music on and the occasional slow dance break the two of you have!

The Baking:

Norman is a decent baker, so he lets you take the lead. Watching over you and taking note of how you make things so he can too. Maybe make a few extra for guests at the front desk? They’ll get a few of the test cookies that don’t come out too good.

The Mistletoe:

Half of the time, he doesn’t notice himself picking through the mail, standing right below the damn thing when you pull him down for a kiss. The stupidest grin sliding across his face as he tries to compose himself.

Hannibal

The Tree:

If Hannibal had it his way, he really wouldn’t decorate that much of his house for the holiday, but if you want to, be his guest! Big tree, little tree, flashy lights, no lights, anything at all and he’s bound to have it up and ready for you to decorate the next day!

The Baking:

He’s more of a cook, but isn’t opposed to doing anything in the kitchen with you. Mainly for when he grabs and puts away things for you. It’s not that he doesn’t think that you can’t put them away, but he’ll just do it. Keep it organized. Besides, you made wonderfully flavorful treats for him to snack on when no one is watching!

The Mistletoe:

Hannibal is, however, very strict in his mistletoe rules. Anytime you walk under it, you MUST kiss him and vise versa. Those things are something that he’ll never overlook in a holiday.

Amanda

The Tree:

She wasn’t too into the idea of all of the decorations and lights, finding herself too busy to do anything, but that would change. It’s pretty therapeutic when she finally gives in to your pleading, especially once the two of you are all done and she can step back and look at something beautiful she’s contributed to.

The Baking:

Also... not really the biggest fan of baking, but doesn’t mind helping you every once in a while when you need it. Put on some music and maybe she’ll consider icing anything. But she’ll have her hands in the cookies jar from time to time.

The Mistletoe:

Doesn’t really avoid it all the time, but doesn’t really pay too much attention to it. She loves all of the attention you give her, but won’t ever make it out as though she wants it. She’s gotta keep up that tough girl look! Save the kisses for when the two of you are alone!

Bishop

The Tree:

A tree? Well, he’s never really had a personal one for his lab nor has ever really... participated in Christmas, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t open to celebrating it with you! Bishop fancies the tree the most, wiring up a few lights here and there turns into the whole ship being covered in flashy red and green lights. Thanks Bishop.

The Baking:

Uhm.. not really his strong suit. He’s wired to know basic recipes from rations and what the had, but that didn’t mean that he was particularly good at it. He’s up for learning, of course, so he can retain the information, though! Although, he feels bad he has no benefit to eating what you’ve made, but he’ll force the crew mates to eat them.

The Mistletoe:

Just one hung up is good enough, one in the doorway to his lab. A lot of people walk through there, but the only one he’s concerned about it you.

Nick

The Tree:

He’s such a dad. I mean, just look at him and how he acts. Nick’s like a kid when it comes to decorating and will stay up all night covering the entire house in anything Christmasy he can get his hands on. He’s got the matching ugly sweaters for the two of you to wear while he absolutely destroys the tree in tinsel.

The Baking:

He doesn’t care what you have plans for making, he’s going to eat it and cover it in any frosting he can find. Nick isn’t the worst baker, but he has fun while doing it, so thats what counts. Even when he takes some to Ward he’s got a goofy smile on his face while talking to that grinch.

The Mistletoe:

You can see his ears twitch and his face go red whenever he catches himself under the mistletoe, but thats only when you give him that sly smile and place a hefty shmack right on his lips. Hey, maybe he’ll take some and tease Ward with it.

Arthur

The Tree:

Arthur has the best time doing just about anything with you, no matter what it is. While the two of you might not have the room for the biggest tree, Arthur makes up for it in enthusiasm. It’s simple decoration, but that doesn’t mean it’s not enough!

The Baking:

Arthur’s got some room for improvement. The days of TV dinners and messy dishes are over, so lets get to baking! It makes him feel like a kid again, and boy doesn’t it feel a bit nice to not have a care in the world for a while. The two of you are bound to leave the kitchen with frosting and icing on your faces, but what’s the fun in clean cooking?

The Mistletoe:

He’s a bit bashful just about every time he even looks at the mistletoe hanging there, thinking about how much you really love him. Even a part of him wishing that you really did, that hopefully none of this was a dream, but if it was, he never wants to wake up. But for now, just come and kiss him!

Barbara & Adam

The Tree:

Even in the afterlife, they’ve still kept up all of the decorating and celebrating for the holidays. It something the three of you can do, even Lydia as well! The tree is the greatest asset of it all, only the biggest evergreen sat right in the corner of the living room. Don’t even get me started on how many ornaments they have.

The Baking:

Thats something Barbara takes pride in with you, Adam will just sneak in from time to time and snatch a cookie until one of you catches him and shoos him back into the basement. Barbara has just about every cookie cutter you can imagine, so don’t be afraid to have her bust them out of the cabinets for you.

The Mistletoe:

Those two will be under the mistletoe for hours, going back and forth, laughing and smiling at each other like teenagers. You and Lydia can’t help but just watch and laugh at them, rolling your eyes like you would at your parents. Eventually, when they’re done, the three of you can have your time under the Mistletoe 2.0 (that ones for hugging)!

#jason voorhees x reader #michael myers x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #thomas hewitt x reader #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #norman bates x reader #hannibal x reader #amanda young x reader #bishop x reader #nick jakoby x reader #arthur fleck x reader #barbara and adam maitland #slasher x reader

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zwritestuff · 3 years

Text

Crossing All The Lines (YueKi) - One-shot

A/N: I'm trying to dip my toes in the atla fandom, and I saw that it's yueki week! I wanted to contribute with the cause, so here's a fic combining today's prompts: modern au + song fic. The fic is loosely inspired by Girls like Girls, by Hayley Kiyoko, because i was obssesed with that song wayyyy before I came out as a lesbian. Hope yall like it! Pls do tell me if they feel ooc, I'm still quite new to writing atla. ( @yuekiweek )

Summary: Yue and Suki have been best friends since they were four, and over the years, they chose each other over everyone all over again.

[Also on AO3!]

***

For as long as they can remember, Suki and Yue have been best friends. They met through Sokka, Yue’s neighbor and son of one of her dad’s friends, when they were just four years old.

Suki was Sokka’s play-buddy thanks to their mothers, and one day, while they were having one of their usual playdates during the weekend, Arnook came knocking at the door, asking in a very hurried manner if they could watch over Yue while he went to the hospital. Kaya hadn’t asked, but she knew it had to do with Yue’s mother, so she rushed her into the living room where Sokka and Suki were playing.

“Suki, this is Yue, my best friend!” Sokka had said, excitedly waving his arms around and pulling Yue in for a hug. Yue, shy as she always was, had blushed before muttering a “nice to meet you.”

Suki, on the other hand, had stuck up her nose, folded her arms and pouted. “I thought I was your best friend!” She said, indignantly, and Sokka hurried to clarify that she was also her best friend. Suki laughed after a second, saying it was a joke, and greeted Yue with another hug. “Do you wanna play with my dolls? They’re warriors! Just like Kyoshi, you know Kyoshi? I never miss an episode of the Kyoshi Adventures!”

Yue nodded, not talking much at first, but once Suki started to tell her about the intricate plans the evil man, represented by Sokka’s action figure, had to take down the Kyoshi warriors, Yue became a lot more talkative, voicing her concerns for the dolls’ wellbeing.

Sokka complained about being left out, because playing with dolls was “a girls thing”, but ended up participating in their games when Suki offered him to do the voice of the hero that battles with the Kyoshi warriors.

And just like that, they became inseparable.

Their friend group had a few additions over the years, and of course they appreciated Aang’s dumb jokes that only made Katara laugh, Katara’s constant invitation to her swimming competitions, Toph’s tough love, and Zuko’s theater kid antics; but Yue and Suki always chose each other, no matter what the situation was.

Then they hit their teenage years, and Sokka asks Yue out on a date on a sunny day of Spring. Like a real date. A romantic one.

Yue says yes, and almost immediately after she crashes at Suki’s house and tells her about it. There’s silence for a long second, before Suki speaks.

“I mean, that’s great! But…”

“But?” Yue looks at her expectantly, leaning in ever so slightly.

They’re in Suki’s room, sitting under the window, and it’s starting to be warm enough for the heat to be just a notch unbearable. Or so Yue thinks.

Suki looks at her with a doubtful gaze. “Do you like Sokka? Or did you, y’know, just say yes to not make things awkward,” she asks softly, letting her hand fall on top of Yue’s.

That’s a question Yue wasn’t expecting, certainly; she thinks Sokka is cute, as everyone does, and she’s fond of him in many ways she can’t express with words, and she knows she loves him as a brother—but she hasn’t considered liking him in a romantic way until he asked her out.

So she just shrugs, “I don’t know,” she merely replies, and Suki cocks a brow, asking what she means. Yue shrugs again. “I think I could grow to like him.”

“But you don’t like him, now.” Is more of a statement than a question, but Suki adds the vocal fry nonetheless.

“Not in the way he wants me to, yet,” Yue insists, coming off a little too defensive.

There's an awkward silence hanging for a second too long, and Suki gives Yue's hand a squeeze.

“Just-- just don't hurt him, or yourself, okay?” Suki says, tentatively, carefully. And the emotion in her eyes is one Yue can't quite put a finger on.

Either way, Yue presses her forehead on Suki's shoulder, and brings her hand to her lips, leaving a soft kiss.

“I promise, Su.”

Suki looks away, and if Yue didn't know better, she'd say her cheeks have a slight pink color. Before she gets a wrong idea ingrained in her brain, she resolves that it’s just the heat.

***

Yue goes on a date with Sokka, and then another one, and another one, and who knows how many dates have they gone on when he finally asks her to be his girlfriend? Not Yue, certainly.

But Suki seems to be counting pretty closely.

“Do you think is it too soon? I mean, it hasn’t been that long,” Yue wonders aloud, laying in her bed with her head hanging upside down from the border.

“Well, it’s been three months, and you’ve been going out like three times a week—I’d say it’s fair enough,” she replies, doing her stretches before she leaves for her Karate class.

Yue looks at her, surprised. “I didn’t know you were keeping count,” she comments, straightening up her position.

Suki once again evades her gaze, “I’m not.”

“Then why—”

“I gotta go,” Suki cuts her off, suddenly grabbing her backpack. “My mom can’t drive me, I gotta walk, I’ll text you when I’m off.” She walks up to the door, and is about to leave when she turns around, giving Yue one last look. “For what’s worth, I think you made a good decision. You and Sokka seem really happy together.”

Suki leaves the room before Yue can tell her about the awkwardness that pools in her stomach whenever she’s alone with Sokka, the unease she feels when he tries to touch her beyond holding hands, the relief she feels when they have to cancel a date; she knows these aren’t common feelings when you like someone.

She wants to believe there will be a point where she’s comfortable, that maybe her feelings are contradictory because it’s Sokka, her childhood best friend, her soul-brother.

But if that were the case, why does she crave Suki’s touch? Why does she prefer it when they’re by themselves? Why does she feel her heart skip a beat whenever Suki proposes they hang out?

Yue groans. Feelings are too confusing.

***

Sokka and Yue have been a couple for a month when Sokka’s birthday comes around, and like every year he throws a party.

Well, ‘party’ is too generous—it’s just a get-together with their close friends, food, and music a tad louder than he’s usually allowed to. Sokka insists they all have to be dressed to the nines, because it’s his eighteenth birthday and he’s now a “man.” Suki, Katara and Toph tell him, almost at the same time and with a playful eye-roll, that being eighteen doesn’t make him any less dumb.

“Why can’t you all be nice to me on my own birthday?” He complains, pulling Yue closer to him as she laughs softly, “My girlfriend is ten times better than all of you!”

Suki notices how Yue stiffens ever so slightly before easing into his embrace, albeit reluctantly. She doesn’t say anything, why would she?

So she just sits back and watches.

But the thing is, Suki knows Yue like the back of her hand, and there’s no way she doesn’t pick up on the way she leans away from Sokka whenever she gets the chance, and the smile that doesn’t reach her eyes whenever Sokka tells her he loves her.

Suki just sips on her drink, and when they disappear for what feels like forever and come back looking relieved, she doesn’t say anything.

Not even when Yue curls up against her side for the rest of the night, and Sokka doesn’t try to reach for her anymore.

***

The next morning, when Suki goes to visit Yue, the first thing she tells her is that she broke up with Sokka last night. Suki just stares at her, wide-eyed, but it’s not like she didn’t see it coming.

“What? Why?” She asks, baffled, and Yue just shrugs.

“It wasn’t working out,” she says, flatly, like it doesn’t need much explanation. Yue cocks an accusatory brow, poking Suki’s ribs. “Don’t act like you couldn’t tell, Su,” Yue continues, moving closer to Suki. She tucks her legs under her body as Suki scrambles to find an answer in time.

“But-- Sokka,” it’s the first thing she says, “he really likes you, and everything seemed well yesterday. What went wrong?” Suki frowns, visibly confused, but she can’t say she’s all that sad about their friends’ relationship ending, not really.

Of course, she loves Sokka like any other of his friends, and she’s already making a mental note to check on him once she leaves Yue’s house—but she can’t say she didn’t wish once or twice that Yue would stop forcing herself to like Sokka, to stop recoiling when he tried to touch her and pretend it was all fine.

And she can’t say she didn’t wish for Yue to like her back ever since they were fourteen.

Yue gives a long sigh before speaking, letting her head fall against the back of the sofa. “Sokka’s great, don’t get me wrong. He was a good boyfriend, best I’ve ever had, actually,” she says with a teasing tone, and Suki gives a dry laugh. She never had any other boyfriend, but whatever. Yue stares into Suki’s eyes, a feeling she can’t quite put a finger on shining in them, and Suki stops breathing for a second when she reaches for her hand. “But he wasn’t you.”

Suki could swear she feels her heart ringing in her ears. She blinks repeatedly, before she actually processes what she just said.

And she laughs awkwardly, because she’s sure her ears are deceiving her, that Yue’s just pranking her and what she said doesn’t actually mean what Suki wants it to mean. But when Yue doesn’t laugh along, Suki blushes furiously.

“Suki,” Yue goes on, giving Suki’s hand a slight squeeze. “Sokka and I ended things because he knew that, while I loved him platonically, he would never be able to compete with--with what I feel for you.” Her voice is soft and low, filled with sweetness and adoration.

Suki licks her lips, sucking in a sharp breath as her heart aches with fondness.

“Did you have to break up with him on his birthday, though?” Suki inquires, a shit eating grin taking over her face. Yue scrunches up her nose, nestling against Suki’s chest, hiding her face.

“Don’t remind me!” She screeches with embarrassment, “I wish it could’ve been later, but Sokka was getting suspicious, and it really didn’t help that you and I are attached at the hip. He said he knew, in some way, but he wanted to give it a try instead of regretting having never tried it.” Yue shrugs, fidgeting with her hair, and Suki chuckles. Yeah, that sounds like Sokka.

There’s an awkward silence hanging for a little too long, heavy with lingering words and stolen glances, until Suki breaks it.

“So, I think this is the moment where I ask you out on a date, isn’t it?” She tentatively says, and the smile Yue gives her in return makes her heart speed up.

Yue doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even give her as much of a nod when she closes the space between them in a kiss. Suki sigh happily against her lips, thinking that she’s been waiting for this for a long time.

#atla #avatar the last airbender #yuekiweek #yueki #yue avatar #suki avatar #sokka avatar #my fanfiction

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morsmoon · 3 years

Note

Okay so this is a rewrite bc tumblr mobile is horrible. I want to start with a disclaimer bc I’m not a professional and most of what I’ve learned can be found online (I use my intuition and knowledge of you from your blogs too). The conclusions I come to might be different than what a more experienced astrologer would or I might be way off base, but I did put in effort so I hope some of it resonates. Idrk how to do a full chart reading (I feel like charts can be read endlessly tbh), so I’ll just be covering the broad strokes of what really jumps out at me.

Something you might want to look into is your Chiron placement. Chiron is considered the “wounded healer” asteroid and has to do with a perpetual/recurring wound you encounter in your life. It’s something you struggle with personally, but can help others with bc of your experiences. Your Chiron is in Libra in the 11th house. This tells me you face a lot of difficulties in your social life. Libra has a lot to do with personal relationships, and the 11th house is about community/friends/etc. This combined with Scorpio ruling your 12th house makes things tricky. The 12th house rules over a variety of things, one of them being hidden enemies. With Scorpio here, your enemies will likely be manipulative and possibly psychologically abusive. This makes a lot of sense to me bc I feel you desperately want to find good and trustworthy friends but you’ve dealt with “fake friends”/betrayals in the past so you struggle with trust.

But! You also have a very prominent Pluto. Pluto covers a lot of stuff like finances, death, sex, rebirth/regeneration, etc. Being in the 1st house means that your Pluto is very influential all by itself (the 1st house has to do with the self). Your Pluto also happens to have quite a few aspects to it as well (and almost all of them being favorable [trines and sextiles]). Pluto’s prominence means you have a great capacity for healing and regeneration, you rise from the ashes again and again. Another thing that makes Pluto so prominent for you is that it forms a grand trine with Mars and Saturn (a grand trine is an aspect pattern between 3 objects where each object forms a trine with the other 2 objects making an equilateral triangle, grand trines are very influential in a chart). This is an awesome place to have a grand trine imo. The trine between Pluto and Saturn indicates a knack for growing despite (or maybe bc of) obstacles/hardship (Saturn rules over restrictions/challenges/limitations/etc). The trine between Pluto and Mars gives you a drive for regrowth/regeneration; you may get knocked down, but you get up every time determined to be better than you were before. The trine between Saturn and Mars makes you a bit hard headed when it comes to facing problems. You can be like a dog with a bone bc you won’t stop until you feel you’ve “won” or solved whatever it is. This grand trine (between Saturn Mars, and Pluto) says to me that you can do anything if you put your mind to it. Also, these 3 planets are all masculine, which might contribute to the masculine/dominant energy you have. Pluto has a lot to do with that too. Pluto being in your 1st gives you those Scorpio vibes everyone gets from you. Pluto here makes you come off as very intense, dark, and powerful (this is also in a sexual sense, which might explain why so many tops/doms say they would bottom/sub for you lol). Pluto also has to do with obsession and possessiveness, so you could be prone to those things or to being on the receiving end of them.

You also have a grand trine with Saturn, Mars, and your Ascendant (all fire signs btw lol, so much fire). Having these masculine planets in fire placements aspecting your ascendant, which is also a fire placement, means you come across as strong willed and ready to face adversity (this would be on first impression, but based on the first grand trine I mentioned, this is an accurate first impression and these things are integral to you). Having such prominent aspects to planets in fire signs means that you embody a lot of fire sign qualities despite being a Virgo sun.

The two grand trines plus your Mercury make me think that your professional potential is incredible. Mercury rules over things like thought process and communication, and yours is in Virgo and the 10th house. Virgo is ruled by Mercury naturally, so yours is very strong here. The 10th house is generally seen as the house of career, meaning your career would have something to do with thinking/communication (this makes sense to me bc psychology revolves heavily around those things). I also think it’s pretty interesting that you had to learn a second language to go to uni, and you managed to despite feeling that English didn’t come naturally to you. In my mind, that’s the Saturn/Mars/Pluto grand trine and your Mercury placement showing their potential to work together. Mercury was in retrograde when you were born, tho, which can be difficult to deal with. You often feel misunderstood by others or that they aren’t getting what you’re trying to communicate. You might feel like the words you’re using as a speaker make total sense, but they don’t quite get the meaning across to the listener (and/or vice versa). While having Mercury in retrograde in your chart can be frustrating, it means you have unique thoughts and perspectives. I bet you’ve heard astro people complain about Mercury going into retrograde and how it’s gonna mess with them, right? Typically it will mess with a person’s ability to communicate/think clearly (it does with me lmao), but since you were born when Mercury was in retrograde, you thrive during those times.

Your Mercury squares your Moon, which means that you struggle to communicate regarding your own emotions especially. Your Moon also squares your Sun, which means you might experience some dissonance between your feelings/emotional needs and how your ego determines you act to express those feelings/get those needs met. I think that your Mercury, these aspects (Mercury square Moon, Moon square Sun), and your Leo Venus and Mars contribute a lot to the struggles your Chiron presents. You like to be the “funny friend” in your group, and maybe a bit of the “mom friend”. These roles satisfy the dominant elements in your chart (fire and earth). Being funny allows for quick gratification; most people smile or laugh pretty soon after something funny is said/done. It also lets you be the center of attention in a way that feels comfortable to you bc it’s under your control. These things satisfy the fiery parts of yourself (especially your Leo Mars and Venus). It also satisfies the earthy parts of you bc laughter/smiles are pretty concrete reactions that are difficult to fake and they’re easily quantifiable. You might take on a parental role in your friend group too (I say this bc you seem like an assertive but caring person, as shown by the trines, Leo placements, Sun, and your Moon in the 1st). Both of these roles allow you to take on a position of power in your interactions. I see comedians as leading their audience’s reactions (I feel the “mom friend” power dynamic doesn’t need explained). I think these things might be why you feel drained after a group hangout. By being the funny/mom friend, you put in a lot of effort but only get a portion of what you need. These roles put you in a position of power. Yes, they are still somewhat emotional interactions, but they don’t allow for much vulnerability on your part. Your Chiron placement and your Leo Mars/Venus make me think that you want to feel in control or that you have a power advantage bc it makes you feel safer. These placements also tell me that to feel fulfilled, you need your relationships/interactions to be more balanced/mutual/reciprocal bc you crave a safe place to have intimacy and be a little more vulnerable. It’s very important to you that the vulnerability that allows for intimacy is given by choice. I think maybe in the past that choice to be vulnerable was taken from you, or that you were possibly vulnerable with someone who had bad intentions and took advantage. This plus your Pluto could contribute to why you have certain preferences in the bedroom too (idw be nsfw, but certain some more intense stuff allows participants to be both vulnerable and in control, iykyk). I think this need for control/power might also be why you hold onto your anger and grudges so tightly. Letting yourself feel hurt means admitting vulnerability, and you might be prone to using anger to cover/protect that hurt instead so feel you have more control over your emotions.

You’ve asked before why you attract so many water signs and I think all that might contribute. Water dominant people tend to enjoy nurturing, emotional, touchy-feely stuff and they can likely sense that you need it on some level even if you aren’t comfortable with it. You also have the Moon and Pluto in the 1st house, which makes your emotions very strong (water dominants can be drawn to that). The Moon and Pluto are also rulers of water signs (the Moon rules Cancer and Pluto is the primary ruler of Scorpio); having them in the first house gives you some watery vibes even tho you don’t have almost any water in your chart. That might actually be something to look into (having the ruler of your 8th house in your 1st and the ruler of your 12th house in your 1st). I read up a little on that, but I’m still pretty new to interpreting sign rulers’ meanings when they’re in a house not ruled by their own sign (that was so confusing to type, idk if it makes sense).

Omg that was a lot to rewrite (I wrote way more than I planned the first time but I was so curious I couldn’t help myself and then I felt like I had to include everything I could remember bc I spent most of my day doing this lmfaoooo, I can’t imagine the people who do whole chart interpretations holy fuck). I’m so glad tumblr doesn’t limit the # of ask characters anymore lol, gotta be grateful for the small stuff. I feel like this doesn’t flow quite like it did the first time I wrote it, but I hope you can follow it and that it makes sense anyways. I hope none of it was too personal or somehow offensive, I know sometimes when I read about my own placements/aspects that I feel like I’m being totally dragged lmao. Lmk if any of it is accurate! I’ve never actually done any sort of chart interpretation of anyone other than myself so I’m very curious as to whether or not anything resonates. Tysm for letting me see your chart! I had a lot of fun reading it and writing this (even tho tumblr mobile was dumb) so I hope you enjoy it

Bro this is truly fascinating and amazing! Thank you so much for taking the time to read my chart and write this message. I appreciate it a lot!!

I'm sorry for the late answer but I needed some time to truly understand your words. I've reread this message at least 10 times lmaoo my attention span is so bad sometimes it's embarrassing. Anyways this has to be one of the best anons I've ever gotten. It's insightful and sincere and I truly appreciate it. It's so accurate that it's kinda scary tbh like wow this is 1000% spot on. Every time I read it I was like "wow this explains a lot wow what the fuck".

I'm impressed and I don't say that often. You made me feel seen and validated. I can't comment on your knowledge because I literally know nothing about this lmao so I'll just trust you and go along with it. I'm definitely gonna bookmark it and read it again in the future.

Now I know why a lot of people associate me with Scorpio and fire elements. It does explain a lot about my desires, vibes and behavior. I wish I knew more so I could have a conversation with you about all this but it'd be embarrassing because I'm dumb lmao

Thank you so much. You've got my whole chart so feel free to use it for practice lmao I can be your study case I guess ✊😳

#bookmark #fav #for bad days #dude what the fuck #you truly pay attention you even remember stuff that I've said months ago omfg #i don't even remember but you do! this is so hot lmaooo #marry me Perhaps

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gellavonhamster · 4 years

Text

good people

gen || Montgomery Montgomery & Bertrand Baudelaire || pre-canon

ao3 link eng || ao3 link rus

Monty Montgomery learned about the deaths of Count and Countess *** somewhere about two in the afternoon, in the lobby of the Biology Faculty of Gerald Durrell University of Natural Science. He didn’t know them personally, and that day he could not even recall their faces when reading an article about their deaths, just as many years later he could not – unfortunately – recall the face of their son, whom he did know personally back in the day and had met as often as not. At the same time, he could remember in detail the moment he heard they were dead – the hum of voices in the vast corridors of the faculty building, sunlight glistening on glass in the frames of photographs and newspaper clippings hanging on the walls, the sound of his own footsteps. He was descending the stairs, almost hopping like a kid because he had just managed to talk a teacher into letting him submit the report a day later, and consequently was in a splendid mood. Few things can compete with the joy that a student experiences when the deadline for a paper that still exists only as a title page gets postponed for a later date. Immersed in happy thoughts, he went down to the ground floor, and was just heading for the exit when he suddenly saw a crowd of students and teachers huddled together and discussing something animatedly. One of the students was holding a widely unfolded newspaper, and several people at once were reading something over his shoulder.

“Must be a change of government or something,” Monty thought as he approached them. Frankly, the prospect of writing a paper in two days concerned him much more at that time than a hypothetical coup.

“Ah, Montgomery!” shouted one of those reading the paper, Professor Stein of the Herpetology Department. Stein was always shouting: he had hearing problems. Now, on the other hand, a raised voice was more than appropriate, for too many people were talking at once.

“Good afternoon, Professor,” Monty gave him a nod of greeting as he joined the group. Getting closer to the paper was impossible – the crowd was too thick. “What’s the news?”

“A murder, Montgomery! A crime story at its finest; the whole city is going insane! Come read.” At that, Professor grabbed him by the elbow and pushed him into the middle of the crowd, so that Monty found himself right behind the left shoulder of the guy with the newspaper.

He took a look at the page, found the piece everyone was reading, and grew cold.

“Poison darts! With snake venom!” Stein exclaimed. Monty winced as if in pain. The loud noises around him were distracting; he wanted to read carefully, turn each word round in his head, persuade himself it was not what he thought it was. Coincidences do happen sometimes, after all. “And where – at the opera! Right during the performance!”

“Yeah,” someone to the right of the newspaper chimed in, “straight out of Gaston Leroy.”

“Leroux,” Monty corrected mechanically. He was suddenly overcome with fierce and helpless anger. He stepped back. “I’m sorry, Professor, I really have to go.”

Walking quickly, even quicker than back when he was urged on by the unwritten report, he headed for the door.

Well then, La Forza del Destino. Poison darts. Snake venom.

And his flatmate, who went to the opera yesterday and didn’t come back home.

***

Bertrand asked him to procure the venom about a week ago.

It might have been Thursday, or maybe Friday. Monty was writing a term paper then, one that he could not set about writing earlier because he was busy doing other things, from the tasks assigned to him by VFD to attending the parties organized by other volunteers, which in some cases seemed as important to him, even vital at times. VFD gave him time to deal with the exam period, relieving him from participation in any missions for the nearest future – the pursuance of science was highly valued among their ranks. Many volunteers flaunted some academic degrees, but not many of them got those degrees officially, even if they deserved them objectively. Some Doctors and Masters among them didn’t even hold a certificate of Bachelor’s Degree. Fighting the fires, both literal and figurative, took up a lot of time and energy, leaving virtually none of it for attending the lectures or even distance education. However, the VFD members had connections – Had Connections even, capitalized – owing to which many of them got the opportunity to call themselves professors or academicians, although all their scientific contributions, sometimes absolutely groundbreaking, remained hidden from the general public.

At the Biology Faculty, VFD Had some Connections as well, and if Monty wished so, he probably could obtain the Master’s or even Doctor’s Degree without much effort, but he had no such wish. He desired recognition and respect from the people outside the organization, desired to make discoveries that he could tell the whole world about – desired for everything to be fair. That was why he had spent the whole previous week in a kind of a time loop. Every day looked like the day before: writing, writing, writing, leafing through the sources frenziedly after another bookmark gets lost, sorting the materials collected in the expedition, drinking gallons of coffee, and occasionally sleeping. And feeding Maturin, of course. As to Monty himself, it was Bertrand who had been feeding him, which was very kind of him, because Monty couldn’t even afford the time to heat some ready-to-cook foods. Bertrand simply used to come into his room, not even knocking anymore so that not to distract him, put a plate of vegetable couscous or spaghetti bolognese or something in front of him, and leave before Monty noticed that plate. The dirty dishes he used to take away in the same manner, unnoticed. Monty had to yell “Thank you!” for the whole house to hear, to which Bertrand yelled back “You owe me!” from his room or from the kitchen. He was joking, and Monty knew that, but still planned at least to stand treat at the pub after the exams were over.

That morning, Bertrand knocked on the door again – first came in, then knocked. That meant he needed Monty to pay attention to him.

“Hello, hello, hello!” Monty exclaimed, turning on the chair, immediately knocked one his books off the table, and bent to pick it up. “I am listening to you attentively, o dearest neighbour.”

“You’re going to the uni tomorrow, aren’t you?” Bertrand asked.

Monty nodded. “Yeah, to submit this Frankenstein’s monster. Only the bibliography left to do.”

“You’re a hero,” Bertrand praised him. Monty thought so too, in all honesty. “Could you do something for me while you’re at it?”

“Buddy, I would’ve wasted away without you here over the last few days. What exactly do you need?”

“I need,” Bertrand felt for something in the pocket of his trousers, took out some scrap of paper, and gave it to Monty, “a vial of venom of this snake.”

Monty’s heart lurched. He skimmed the note.

“Oh,” he said. “No problem. There are a couple of excellent specimens of this species at the City Herpetological Centre.”

“I know,” Bertrand replied. “I thought of asking N or S, but I don’t know them well. I wouldn’t like to shoot my mouth off in front of the people I do not trust completely,” he sat down on the edge of Monty’s bed. “Not these days.”

Monty noticed that Bertrand was trying not to meet his eyes.

“I see. Tomorrow it’ll be done.”

“Thank you,” Bertrand smiled slightly, still not looking at Monty. Instead, he was looking at Maturin, the turtle, which was chewing on a salad leaf in its terrarium. The turtle was undoubtedly remarkable, but it wasn’t hard to see that Bertrand was rather looking through it than at it. Sooner or later that was bound to happen, Monty thought. Sooner or later, each volunteer had to do something… like that. Not necessarily related to deathly poisons and what very logically results from their use, but still something that made it difficult to look one’s friends in the eye. Like it was now difficult for Bertrand.

“Who?” Monty asked in a hushed voice. “I’m not asking about the name, I’m asking if you know that person. Or were you just given a description?”

“A description,” Bertrand echoed. He smiled again, wider and brighter, but still somewhat stiffly. “Don’t worry about me. I am not a child, I’ll handle this.”

***

“And so he did,” Monty thought as he was unlocking the door to his flat.

Bertrand was already home; there was no need to call their acquaintances or go to Kit’s place. When Monty entered, his flatmate was sitting at the kitchen table and rubbing his knuckles on one hand with the thumb of the other. His face was calm, without any trace of either tears or smile. It reminded Monty of the kind of “Closed” sign that people put on the shop doors on Sundays.

“There you are,” Monty said, peeking into the kitchen. Bertrand gave a start and looked at him.

“Hi,” he said, and offered Monty a faint smile. It didn’t look too convincing. “How did the report thing go?”

“They let me submit it later,” Monty told him. He didn’t know how to ask Bertrand about what was really vexing him, so he asked another question that was, in his opinion, appropriate in any situation. “Would you like some tea?”

“That would be nice, thank you.”

Monty went into the kitchen, took the teapot off the stove, shook it and made sure it was empty, filled it with water, ignited the burner, put the teapot on the stove. Having been in a hurry to check if Bertrand was home, he didn’t have time to take his shoes off, and was now stamping around the kitchen in outdoor shoes. “Gotta sweep the floor later,” he noted to himself. It came with experience – the skill of not forgetting about the dull everyday things like cleaning and cooking while your entire world was in a whirl and threatening to fall apart.

“I saw the article in the newspaper,” he began as he took teacups from the dish drainer. Bertrand was still sitting at the table in silence, still rubbing his hands absentmindedly. “About the opera.”

“Yeah, I’ve already read it, too.”

“You lied when you told me you didn’t know who the target was, didn’t you? When you asked me to get you the venom.”

“I did,” Bertrand agreed. He leaned back in his chair. It wasn’t hard to see by his eyes that he hadn’t caught even a minute of sleep last night. “Do we have any lemons for tea?”

“Um?.. I think there must be some. Check the fridge. Why did you lie?”

“You had enough problems of your own. And you still do. I didn’t want you to worry about me as well,” Bertrand got up from the table, walked up to the fridge, and took out a bowl containing half a lemon. Having taken a knife and a board, he started cutting the lemon into very neat identical pieces. Everything Bertrand did was neat.

“Yeah, you can want whatever you like,” Monty muttered. The teapot was still taking its time to boil, and just standing empty-handed and discussing the murder committed by his neighbour was unbearable, so he took a cloth and started cleaning the sink aggressively. That was not the first time he procured poisons required by other volunteers. Perhaps he hadn’t killed anyone himself – yet – but he suspected that in a sense he already was partially responsible for a number of deaths. It was scary, it was weighing down on him, it kept him up at night and made him drink and dance and party with a vengeance in the hope of forgetting himself – but that was him, and when it came to Bertrand, it was a hundred times more of a shame. Bertrand was a good person. Bertrand didn’t deserve to be turned into a murderer. Monty was hoping he could express that all in such a way as not to make it seem like his heart is aching not so much for his friend as for his own hurt feelings, but the right words just wouldn’t come.

“You are one of the best people I know,” he finally began. Bertrand made a strange sound, something between a laugh and a sob. Monty turned and saw that he had already cut the leftover lemon and was now standing with an absent look on his face, clutching the knife. “Don’t hold the knife with the edge toward you. Fucking hell, B,” he raised his voice when Bertrand didn’t react. “Don’t hold the knife with the edge toward you, and put it down anyway!”

The knife fell on the table with a thud. Bertrand closed his eyes, leaned on the tabletop with both hands, and lowered his head so that Monty couldn’t get a good look at his countenance.

“I keep remembering that he hit O several times when boozed up, back when O was a boy,” he spoke quietly. “He used to drink, you know – not every day, but he used to go on drinking sprees from time to time. O’s taking after him in that respect. I keep thinking back on it as if it makes an excuse for me, but it really doesn’t, you see? And she was innocent – I mean, the rational part of me gets that she wasn’t, I know who she and her husband used to finance and what they used to cover up, but all I can remember is that she was usually nice to O, and to B after she moved to the City too.” Now his voice was taut, his face burning with indignation, his former numbness gone without a trace. “How come this task was assigned to B, of all people? After they had basically accepted her as family?”

Monty knew, personally and by repute, several Bs among their associates, but this time Bertrand didn’t have to specify who he was talking about.

“I am angry they made you do this, you are angry they made her…”

“Because she didn’t deserve this,” Bertrand interrupted him. “Because she’s a good person.”

Monty realized that Bertrand was basically repeating word for word what he had been reflecting on earlier himself, and smiled sadly.

“How willing we are to assure the others vehemently that they are good people,” he spoke. He was completely in agreement with Bertrand about Beatrice. She was not just fun, but also reliable, which was much more important. She looked after her own. She was vivid and loud and incredibly brave and incredibly loving, and Bertrand was right: she did not deserve this. “And never as willing to defend ourselves the same way. Perhaps that is where our hope lies? In our inability to turn a blind eye to our own faults?”

Bertrand took off his glasses, inelegantly wiped off the tears that had broken out after all, and put the glasses on again.

“Monty,” he said gently, “you’re a good person too, you know that?”

Monty blinked, then blinked again, feeling that soon he might have to wipe off the tears too. Bertrand was one of the best people Monty knew, and he didn’t deserve to be turned into a murderer, and didn’t deserve to labour under such grave delusion about other people either – but the fact that someone still considered him a good person gave Monty confidence that despite all his wrongdoings, he still wasn’t a lost cause.

He reached out and ruffled Bertrand’s hair.

“Sit down,” he told him. “The tea’s about to be ready.”

#asoue #a series of unfortunate events #uncle monty #montgomery montgomery #bertrand baudelaire #snicketverse #not completely satisfied w/ this one but i like some bits so let it be here #yes the name of the turtle is a reference to stephen king's it #iirc they reference danny the champion of the world as early as atwq and it was published in the 70s #and time is a construct anyway (especially in the snicketverse) so i couldn't resist #talk talk talk #gella talks snicketverse #my fic

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