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sugar-petals · 3 years

Text

hey angel (m)

♡ sub!felix + reader

↳ The JYP Halloween party is ditched on short notice. That means: You have a down-to-celebrate boyfriend in full angel costume on your hands.

words. 5k

tags. domestic au, finger sucking, hickeys, latex, corruption kink, fingering, vaginal sex, footjob, harnesses, cunnilingus, kitten antics, edging, aftercare

★⎡CARO’S NOTE⎦› here goes the cutie on duty 👼

genre. domestic + smut/crack

„So sorry mate,“ Bang Chan’s voice resounds through the speaker. „I thought it could work but… We can’t celebrate tonight. Really sorry, Felix. Changbin and I already got dressed up too, but, you know things got shut down. JYP won’t let us with the Corona rules and stuff.“

„Oh no…“

„Yeah, man. Looks like we’ll have to do it next year.“

„You even prepared the food already, right?“

„We’re handing it out to staff and eat it at home. I know, it sucks. I spent half the morning in the kitchen. I can like keep the pumpkin cookies so you can eat them tomorrow after practice or so.“

„I feel so sorry Chan… and thank you.“

„I’ll be calling Hyunjin and Han now as well. Really sorry we’re cancelling short notice. I hope you’re still having a nice evening bro. Maybe we can make it happen for Christmas.“

„Okay. Cheers mate.“

„Yeah, cheers.“

Felix puts his phone down looking more than deflated in his angel costume, puffs out a big sigh. You can tell he really looked forward to this. Just an hour before, you bothered to sew the wings in place rather than rely on the wobbly back-pack like construction that came with it.

They’re firmly attached to his white top now, and all for nothing. He glued them together by himself with a pack of synthetic feathers ordered on Etsy for a ridiculous shipping cost, along with a little halo that he clipped into his hair. Which, because maybe it really does sense his mood, dangles low and even a bit lopsided over his head.

„It’s the party of the year,“ Felix flops down on the living room couch. “I can’t believe this.“

You sit down opposite to him, starting to clean off the table where masses of cosmetic products and leftover feathers have piles up.

„Next time, Lixie. We can keep the costume. Poor Chan, he organized the living shit out of everything.“

„I’ll just go and shower, get this off, and stuff,“ he points at his face. Felix applied his own makeup with a little help from you here and there, including some golden sparkles. Just yesterday, he bleached his hair. It’s sculpted down to every strand with hair spray now. Felix unties his sneakers with the little gold stars on. Just before he starts plucking off his halo, you get an idea, pick up your phone from the table.

„Wait— Let’s at least make some pictures with your phone, you put so much effort in this. You look so cute. The fans might want to see it as well.“

„Oh! You’re right,“ Felix stops right in his tracks. „For Instagram.“

After tightening his sneakers again and you making sure the halo sights right, Felix walks around your flat in search for a nice backdrop. You follow, quickly flipping through some filters to try, and adjusting the flash on the camera.

After posing at the fridge — strange idea — and in the bathroom turns out a little awkward as well, you decide that such an elaborate costume needs a themed background, and only the bedroom offers just that. You recently changed the duvet to sky blue sheets with clouds on them. The overall interior is mostly clean white as well, with some thrifted vintage furniture. Fairy lights, heavy curtains, a wooden ceiling. Perfect.

„We’ll caption it as… post your own stay-at-home costume, something like that,“ Felix plops down on the bed, acting as if he just took a seat on the cloud in the very middle.

„Sounds pretty good,“ you press release, and the first picture pops up on your screen. „Can you turn a little towards the light? That the sparkles are showing.“

„Yay, I love the sparkles!“

„Just like this, just like this. Don’t move. The sparkles!“

A five-picture series of more snapshots ensues, with you adjusting Felix’s face a few times by hand, even, turning his chin by sheer millimeters to find the perfect angle. He’s stunning.

„I have another idea.“

„Oh?“

„I remember what I wore for Halloween three years ago. The costume must be somewhere. I think it fits together with yours.“

„What, oh wow?“

„What was it again, wait…“

You already begin to sort through your wardrobe, checking each hanger, each drawer, end up where you store your socks, and finally pull out a larger plastic zip bag from the very depths of all that chaos. There it is. Nice.

„Lix, if you’d turn around for me, please.“

He immediately does. Blushing.

„Thank you, angel.“

You pull off your sweat pants, your grey shirt, socks, your bra. Time to dress up. Only your simple black panties stay on. On goes a pair of scarlet stockings, snug and high. Then, a dark red latex skirt that goes in big circles and flounces, down to the mid-thigh.

Added: A tight sleeveless peplum top that admittedly… and deliberately squeezes your boobs a little. Not too much. More important is that your nipples are showing right through, and the cleavage is sweeping, every demon would be salivating at your feet. If an angel does: Remains to be tested.

Around your waist and chest and over your shoulder goes a black harness, pulling everything together. Some very pointed, glossy pumps with thin heels complete the costume. They’re not crafted to be walked on in the very least, their balance is terrible. You’re planning something else with them. Cherry on top: Devil horn headband. Really curved and pointy, too. Can’t go wrong. You click your tongue and take a spin. The skirt flares out perfectly. Ready to go.

„Felix, time to turn around.“

He does. You can tell he didn’t cheat.

„You’re, you’re so hot in this,“ Felix buries his face right in the comfort of his sweater paws, hoping they would not give away his embarrassed little face. But — his voice does, effortlessly so.

„Come on, have a look at me. Real closely, angel, come. You’re allowed to.“

Felix gazes through his fingers with what sounds like a little meep! in a much more high-pitched tone than his usual speaking range. He’s cute.

„Hey pum’kin. Miss Lucifer speaking. Where’s the barbecue?“

Felix and you recently agreed that hell must be one big and extremely hot cave where everyone’s grilling and having a good time. Australia, essentially.

„Welp!“

„Damn right. Infiltrating God’s realm one cloud at a time. Any last words?“

„It’s so intimidating!“

Felix digs himself into a mountain of pillows on the bed, with only his eyes and nose peeking out. You shrug, adjust your horns.

„Hm. Time for my first satanic act I guess.“

„Oh no!“

„Wait just one minute, be a sweet and patient boy.“

You leave Yongbok confused given that you’re quick to hurry to the kitchen. However, what you return with puts a giggle on his lips right away.

„Boom. It is served.“

„Yes, yes, please!“

Poufy black cocoa cupcakes. The ones with the cute little ghost frosting on it, and the melted chocolate inside. Felix finds them irresistable since the last Halloween party, to the point where you bake them mid-July. The current set of cupcakes was meant to be a contribution to Bang Chan’s eerie and delectable buffet. As for now, they’re in deep need of someone hungry since you made a lot of them, assuming a post-workout Changbin would devour at least five or more.

„Good move,“ he admits, a little shaky, and you proceed to tray the cupcakes on the bed — stuffing Felix for a solid ten minutes until there’s chocolate all over his face. What you’ll be quick to confess is that you’ve been deliberately messy feeding him, with all the crumbs in particular.

„Spoiled honey bun,“ you plant a kiss on top of his head.

„These taste so good, I swear.“

Next up is Felix who has to carefully maneuver the sweet treats into your mouth without spoiling your outfit.

„If you get crumbs into my cleavage, I can’t put your face in there later you know.“

Fierce nodding.

„That’s the spirit.“

Under your eagle eyes, he proves to be an obedient little cherub doing his job pretty well. The cakes are delicious in how spongy they are, and the liquid chocolate warms up so well on the tongue, it melts even more. You’re more than pleased and have Felix store away the remaining four pieces only after quite a while.

„I’ll have them for Brekkie, woo!“ is what he’s fast to proclaim, and you agree he’ll need them the next morning. Once you’re done with him, that’s gonna count as a hangover even Chan’s wildest party couldn’t give him.

„We’re talking dinner first, Felix.“

At this point, all the sugar is kicking in. Or it’s the chocolate being some kind of aphrodisiac. Whatever, could be either, you’re feeling like you’re up there at the ceiling, and you’re not the only one. Felix coming back to the bedroom so bouncy and cutieful just gets you even more in the mood.

You sit at the edge of the bed, slanting backward just a little. „You look like you need some more corruption, I won’t lie,“ you pat your lap, beckoning. He can ditch wifi because this is his favorite hot spot waiting for him. Felix sits down looking tiny as ever, eyes full of anticipation and his pants full of… big fat late night erection.

„I don’t mind at all, Miss. I don’t, oh my god…“ he mumbles into his nonexistent Aussie trucker beard, and you’re clear that whatever the skirt did to him, his brain must be doing kangaroo somersaults right now. In the meantime, something very eager is poking right at your lower belly. Captain Boomerang already came fully armed tonight and the Suicide Squad isn’t even anywhere near to be seen.

„Oh hey hey, cupcake. Getting really big there,“ you wipe at the curled little corners of his mouth. Some crumbs come off. His lips already twitch the way you know they want to do naughty things on you. He doesn’t seem to notice. Autopilot Felix has already taken over.

„Don’t hurry with it,“ he stares, mouth half-open, but his little grinds prove him a dirty — in an entirely direct sense — fucking liar. Like he’s literally rubbing himself against your stomach.

„Boy oh boy. You’re not even trying.“

„I’m fucked!“ is what Felix soon realizes with the daggers you’re shooting at him through your hopefully very satanic-looking eyes right now. Alongside catching up with his darn hips doing their own thing.

„You are.“

„I’m sorry for grinding, God help me!“

„He won’t. Cuz I’m here on your cloud. Cue stage number two of my demonic plan. Safeword?“

„It’s chocolate!“

„Mh. Good pick.“

The rest as usual. Tapping the thigh, yellow for pause, towels plus water ready, and always double-checking the lube in case of Jisung putting a glass of vegemite under your bed as his latest practical joke. Yes, it happened. It’s a whole new level of demonic. On the other hand: perhaps Felix’ ass could’ve actually handled it, Made in Australia it is.

„Let’s go honey angel,“ you curl at his hair with a little finger just to tease him a little more. The answer is a little meow, at this point Felix’ communication skills have simplified to kitten vocabulary which always happens when he is nervous and looking forward to something.

Next thing poor Felix knows, his face has entered the scorching satanic abyss that is your cleavage. Literally, you’re burning up. It’s fucking October and Felix has you breaking a sweat from all your horniness (literally, your horns are just that chic) already. Twice the reason to punish the shit out of him. If that can be considered anything near a punishment.

A shower of various „Mh— nh!“ and mewling noises comes to rain down on you while Felix face takes a trip down mammary lane, and that, too, is literal. He’s salivating. So much about rain. Actually, great lubrication. Felix always does things best by instinct.

„Yes, good boy. Great job.“

Now that his mouth is wet already, you’re unceremonious about shoving your fingers right down his throat after he resurfaces. Blushed, hard, and ready to choke himself since he’s already running short on breath. It doesn’t take long until he’s gagging himself stupid and the sparkles under his eyes start running.

„Pretty, pretty,“ you lean down a little, kissing his nose. „Give me all you got.“

„Gh—gch—“

The answer is as slobbery and unintelligible as can be. To a normal human, at least. You’re a demonic top. That automatically means having an Ivy League major in gag noise translation.

„Oh yes, I know,“ you stroke his hair, using your free hand that usually rests at the back of his neck. „Talk to me about it. Exactly what I was thinking. Do go on.“

And he does, louder than ever. If there’s one satisfying sound, it’s this, that heavenly deep voice doing all kinds of nasty acrobatics is making you go crazy. That Felix is absolutely close to cumming in his angel pants is very much clear to you given how the veins and muscles on his neck are having a chaotic Halloween party on their own.

Which includes his tongue taking turns on your two fingers as well. And a wide-eyed Felix struggling, swallowing, holding on to your shoulders with his little feet twitching in their sneakers. Like mad… and you love it. But also — hopelessly sucking and moaning and slurping and squealing until his neck has way too much saliva on it for you not to make it your next target. Felix is so good at this. Way too good.

„Looks delicious,“ you lean in, your hair tickles his ears. And now, you’re busy nibbling, biting a little… and most importantly, giving Felix a wet hickey that will send his makeup artist — my God, you really torture the unsuspecting man almost weekly — into a meltdown. Rowdy and unholy is the look you’re going for.

In the meantime, Felix is still wrapped up trying to hit your fingers at the back of his throat. If his cute bouncy run and rude boner moment didn’t turn you on already, now you would be. The way he’s just sucking in his own spit makes you realize that you won’t ever need a fire brigade for your flat.

You emerge from his neck and raise your brows. Felix is just hard-wired to impress. „Just how much saliva can you produce!“

„Ch… Mnh— Nh…“

Hitting some more complex syntax and consonants there, is he.

„Oh, I get it now. You stayed hydrated during the day. Thanks for explaining, mate. That’s the secret.“

Whether that’s perfectly scientifically correct down to the enzyme theory and shit neither of you can google right now. At least you know that you’re both drenched on either end so that’s that.

Once Felix is so horny from deepthroating your damn hand that he has pull off and yellow-word, you’re already prepared for introducing a new position which you can prepare while he’s gathering himself and wiping off his chin. You hand him a second towel for his neck, and present him a little hand mirror to see how the hickey turned out.

„It’s shaped like, hm,“ he pants, words still slurring a little. „I dunno! It’s really cute!“

„Let me see… No doubt that’s a rice cake hickey. That’s the shape.“

„You’re right!“

And off he goes snapping a selfie with it while you get comfortable on your back, cleaning your own fingers.

„Just don’t upload that one to Insta instead of the cloud shots, we’re not gonna survive another Manager call at 1:15 AM.“

„Can I use your phone for it? That’s where it’s supposed to be on, anyway.“

Felix giggles a little. That cute brat. Always knowing how it’s done.

„Sure babe!“

And voilà, Felix is already occupied setting a good view of his new rice cake-shaped friend as your phone background. Good thing, helps his erection cool down a little, he was about to blow up his poor white pants. The acceptable unfair feat being that he’s just riling you up even more like that on the other hand.

„If you come to mommy now,“ you wriggle one foot in the air, the other splayed on the duvet, knee slightly bent. „Rubbing her pussy and doing your thing, you know how it goes.“

„Angel duties calling! What am I doing!“

At the speed of sound, Felix stores your phone back on the bedside table and crawls over in an instant. He props his chin on your abdomen and blinks.

„Sorry Ma’am. At your service. Never wanna keep you waiting.“

A big smile rouses his cheeks, and you boop them from either side. His peach fuzz is so soft and his eyes are so beautifully dark. You don’t waste any time keeping your skirt down for any longer. Another blink and Felix is already pawing — well, kneading and caressing technically — between your legs. He’s visibly understanding just how wet the whole finger sucking circus has left you now.

„What if I used my heels on your cock, boo. Still no cumming. Just my heels and my lil’ prince.“

Satanic plan stage number three. Felix has gotten to savor it last Christmas and for his birthday, and some time around the holidays in summer.

„I love it yay!“ Felix claps his hands. Baby, baby.

„C’mere then. Just keep on rubbing.“

His arms are fairly long enough. While you’re dragging the slender heels of either shoe right across the outlines on his crotch, Felix, eyes loosely closed, maintains a steady rhythm on your clit with three fingers lined up on the fabric of your panties.

„Oh fucking hell, Felix, shit—“

Whenever you masturbate, that alone would never do. You’d get frustrated after a while. Need more stimulation. But when Felix is on angel duty to keep your pussy soaked, it doesn’t need much to make your clit throb, even with your underwear still on. Guess that God’s little helpers know how to work their magic to make your head spin.

He’s hitting the right spot, with the right moves, and his other hand doesn’t miss out on a single opportunity to stroke at both the in- and outside of your thighs. The touch is so subtle, you twitch. Felix strokes on, delirious himself. His eyelids flutter.

„Fuck…“

Despite the little pause from earlier taking out most of his tension, your heels leave Felix with pants that are even more bulged out. That’s making it easy to direct your feet to jerk up and down at either side. You’d never know either of you would be so into this. Foot fetish and all.

Once he’s edged you to the point of moans, last thing you properly remember is calling it quits with the panties and telling him to line himself up. The heels kicked off, the skirt still on, you decide that unpacking your Halloween treat has been long overdue. You slide his pants down, roll down a pink condom, and grab his cock at the base to glide it all over your wet lips.

„Lix, come fuck me. You got me all horny. Satan is recruiting.“

„With me it’s not sinning,“ he smiles, brighter than the sun and you do right along. It’d be hard not to. Felix truly has the innocence of a virgin, the subtle confidence of an intermediate, the caution of a pro, and the kindness of a real veteran.

„You’re right about that Felix,“ you say, prop your entrance at the very tip, let the wetness do its job. „Come kiss your honey girl.“

And he does. Entering you with care for the right angle, letting your hip do the rest. What’s been circling and sucking your fingers so deliciously is now doing a hot job teasing and pleasing your tongue all over. His lips are amazingly soft and plump, they open so gently and feel electric on yours. A gentle squeeze around your left breast sparks a moan into the kiss from you. It’s Felix massaging your breasts while deepening his penetration, and you can tell the vegemite can stay under the bed today. You can tell Felix is getting more than flustered knowing it was all him who made you this dripping wet.

Even his dick seems to blush in sync. It’s fucking pink and red. Oh wait, that’s the condom. But knowing him and from your viewpoint, it’s still more flushed than before, no kidding. Faithfully pumping in and out of you at its full length now. You wrap your legs around his waist, the thrusts become deeper, shorter, parting you open much more, and filling you out so properly.

„So good. Right there, angel. Just right there. I’m loving that.“

Felix has a great dick. Best handy size, the girth’s comfortable, all nice and bendy, virtually no curve, you can always gyrate on it in any way and even take a complete 180 if you go from cowgirl to reverse (which you’d be doing right now but he’d crush his wings if he were on his back like that so no). Cherry on top, compact but soft balls that don’t steal the show but still do the trick during doggy. They’re whipping up the best cum in the world, so.

The slow kissing goes on and on and Felix tries to walk the tightrope of neither letting your pussy lips suck the orgasm out of him, nor making you cream his cock with shaky legs from all that gorgeous sloppy friction, and the kissing, and his sweet cherry shampoo scent that has your brain in absolute limbo.

With everything hanging by a thread like that, every kiss becomes special and full of a suspense that makes your lips tremble — either set, and Felix can hardly bear it himself.

His little halo is dangling back and forth, and you can tell by his face that all that thrusting has him in serious trouble. And you? Are fucking leaking and groaning, and that little shallow series of first contractions before your orgasm is already preparing you.

The sugar high from the cupcakes is fading, but your adrenaline is sure to replace it. You just want Felix to fuck you more and rock against him, and hold his head, and kiss him. God, his mouth is so warm and inviting, tastes so good like cocoa.

The pace joins yours without any effort, it adapts when your rhythm changes, and it stabilizes everything when you’re currently riding the high of his cock really filling you out so you can clench your muscles around him, feel him and tell him just you wait, I’ll milk you. He��s such a good kisser. You can feel all of your wetness running down your ass like it’s Christmas.

„Felix, I’m overflowing.“

„I’m so sorry,“ he whines into the kiss. „I’ll be washing the sheets.“

„Listen, baby,“ you break the tongue-on-tongue, „you doing laundry is really sexy. But the overflow is the best part. Just look what you’re doing to my body.“

You could ravage him on the spot. He’d probably lose it and cum in two seconds. Holding yourself before the edge is so tough right now.

„Shit… yellow again. Need a moment.“

Felix has to resort to a bit of cockwarming, and you use the little break to rid yourself off the harness. It’s not perfectly comfortable when you’re lying down. You’re about to fling it off the bed that Felix asks to wear it. Oh. Very well. It actually goes as a nice contrast on his white top, and the straps make it easy to adjust to him. And he wants it to sit on him really tightly. Oh again.

You realize—

On you, it’s only a fashion piece. Something random that came with the costume.

On him: It’s kinky.

„Hey hey. You look sexy, pum’kin,“ you pat at his chest. „Look at your waist, wow.“

Your sweet boy. It’s like it’s made for him. So cinched and the exact opposite of his costume. He’s a corrupted, dirty angel now, it’s perfect. With his pink neck and all sweaty face, and his little puppy gaze that will haunt you in your sex dreams because it literally just gets into your pants so much. Oh god, you just wanna cum. You have to distract yourself with chaste images of Felix washing the dishes or writing grocery lists with little hearts and emojis on them but that just makes it five times worse.

The way he puts the harness on with his dick inside you is so mouthwatering and cumworthy, you can’t wait to resume and switch your own brains off on that angel cock. Once Felix is ready to exit phase yellow and resume the session, your hands magically gravitate towards the straps of the harness at this waist.

„Can I?“

„M—hm!“

You have the time of your life grabbing and guiding him by the harness, controlling every thrust. Felix clenches up his teeth from how lavishly his cock is squeezing into your pussy.

„Oh babe,“ you groan out. „Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. Come on, angel.“

He’s not going to take it much longer. Felix is tensing all over, neck to the knees, it’s a huge shock wave in the making. That climax is going to be like a fucking punch into outer space.

„I’m really at my limit, I’m, I’m…!“

„Cum for me, angel,“ you reach to his neck to bring his lips down again. Your mouths going into shaky contact brings a big soaring moan with it.

„Ahn—!“

You lock lips, his face scrunches up, and you can tell that cum worth of three orgasms is currently pooling into the condom. You don’t belong to the mile high club, but going by how far up this feels, you might as well be. Those sweet shivers. And the little whines. It’s all too much for him, this one got him bad. Felix cumming is like the angels really are singing. With bells and harps and all that shit at once.

After pulling out, the ruined condom goes off lightning fast. Felix’ cock gets some much-needed cooling, but his face is on heavy duty. How he does it after almost getting his lights turned off, it’s a mystery, it must have been six whole loads he shot into you. You’d already be collapsing in his shoes. Felix still being able to put his mouth to work is an act of divine intervention. Honestly though, it doesn’t even take half a minute. Sloppy head from Felix is cryptonite, your stamina comes tumbling down. His tongue just knocks you out with an overwhelming rush of pleasure.

“Oh— yes...”

What is gravity? You don’t know what north and south mean anymore. He laps and sucks you through your high and your legs give up their soldier service. All you see it fluffy blonde strands of hair peeking from below your skirt, a glimpse of the harness, the rest is heavy growling and swearing from all of the contractions and Felix getting raw and dirty Down Under with no fears, literally none, to bury his face and move it around and let his tongue loose. Time and again Felix shows you he’s a swallower. Satanic agenda: success.

For tonight, your pussy will be nothing but glitter, cum, and spit. Swollen like crazy, properly fucked, and tipped to the absolute limit. Felix keeps on slicking up his face completely, and then brings you into the afterglow with his fingers. One at a time, barely adding stimulation. Just fetching you where you are and climbing down. Looks like you’ll share the cupcakes, this is a couple hangover in the making. In Felix’ case in particular. It’s like he signed up for testing a mad scientist’s latest designer drug.

„Wow wow… So you served me choco cupcakes and God’s menu,“ is the last thing he can say in his delirium before falling over. He’s so fucked out and went so wild on eating you, a part of the harness came off. Thank god his nose is so small, all that swiping could’ve broken the bridge and whatnot. And his lips, they’re twice as plump. You really have to compliment in on what his mouth has done today because that was some champ shit.

You’re both buffering on the sheets for a solid five minutes until you roll to the side. Towel… water… forehead kisses. Yes, forehead kisses most importantly. After gathering yourself a little, you pamper Felix into a heart rate around 90 rather than 120. And with the onset of exhaustion for the two of you, that’s not too hard after some minutes passing. Whispering sweet nothings and praise is all you do up until 2 AM and after. Felix is somewhere between worlds, one foot in the door of the dreamland, the other soaking up the care and the intoxicating, thick scent of the room that has a lot of cherry shampoo in it.

At some point. You loosen the harness, pull off his shirt with the wings attached. The halo you unsuccessfully try to spot in his hair. Turns out: It flew off. Felix really must’ve made Satan proud if it fell down just like that. Good job. Felix has earned a title of being a dirty angel now, and by the way he’s chugging water now, a wet one on top of that.

Five tons of spit, six, seven, who knows how many he’s afforded for today. A head pat is not enough, it has to be several, and Felix passes out onto the pillows. As good as you can, you wipe him down, bin the condom, get off his shoes and his half-pulled down trousers. After staggering to the bathroom, your skirt and peplum shirt follows, the stockings stay on, they’re cozy as hell. Last but not least, you remove your devil horns. It feels like they granted you the most unknown demonic powers.

Next time Felix is on his way to making you cum again, you’ll be wearing them, and you’ll last the way you did tonight. Meanwhile, Bang Chan is blowing up your phone because Felix pressed send by accident earlier, but you don’t notice. It just keeps on vibrating on the bedstand and Chris will have to riddle over the rice cake selfie for the rest of November.

Felix dozes with an angelic little smile on his lips and puffs his cheeks in his sleep, his makeup wiped and his hair truly messy. Instagram can wait. Maybe you’ll get to brush your teeth a little later, it usually takes some time until you wake up again and topple to the sink. You huddle together, tuck your sweet baby pum’kin into his second favorite spot at your chest. Ah, the glory of Felix little spooning.

As the last signature, you nibble at his ear, call him your cutie pie, and switch the lights off. You have to listen closely but if you do, it’s like Felix is purring in his sleep. Whatever your own dreamland is planning to launch on you tonight, you’re looking forward to it.

PS — oh, my good ole fellas, a last cursed disclaimer. i must insist on the following for obvious reasons. vegemite makes for some terrible strap lube okay 😂🇦🇺

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imagintheworldaway · 3 years

Text

Together

Anonymous asked: Hello! Can you do a Harryxfem! Reader where people see how Harry looks at the reader (calorie challenge- rematch (time stamp 27:17)) and the reader is so oblivious to Harry’s feeling for her because he broke up with his long-term ex last fall and she doesn’t want to read deep into it and just keeps telling people that they’re just friends even though everyone can see past the bull crap and keeps shipping them because they’re very similar and meant to be and after months of Harry pinning after her he tries to move on and go on dates (which fails but she doesn’t know that it’s not working out for him ) so she starts seeing someone and magically somehow end up together and become the “it” couple because of how blunt and honest they are. Sorry that was long! Hope you can write it thanks!

A/N Good gosh this is a long one. I hope you enjoy! Requests are open

Sitting on the sofa next to Cal, snuggled in a mountain of blankets in Harrys apartment whilst the boys filmed a video was always fun. They were filming the 100,000 calorie challenge and it was JJ, Vik , Cal and Harrys turn to be eating the calories. We were sat watching JJ as he revealed he had absolutely failed the challenge to everyones surprise. The boys all started to complain as I giggled at the failure which was JJ right now. I felt a slight nudge on my side and Cal not so discreetly nodding towards Harry, I looked over at him and smiled but he averted his gaze from me and buried his head into the massive bear still complaining at JJ as it was revealed he had messed up the challenge even more by starting before the official time.

After JJ’s little mess up they decided to make the fried mars bars, and I feel as though even saying it is cause for disaster. The boys were all crowded around the counter, just making a mess really, not much surprise there. I was happy in my own little world scrolling through instagram with the boys chatter in the background when I started to smell something burning and a mass amount of smoke from the boys. “Oh my god you idiots” I said matter of factly before grabbing the pan and holding it out the window, not wanting the apartment to stink of burnt mars bars as the guys tried to switch off the fire alarm.

Once everything had calmed down I started to clean up as the boys ate the left over chocolates. “ you don’t have to clean up Y/N” Harry said to me as he bought over a plate to the sink. “Its ok I don’t mind, something to do at least” I smiled up at him. “You sure? I feel bad” he said scratching his shoulder and giving me an awkward smile. “I’m sure, go enjoy your food” I giggled pushing the boy away from me slightly. I finished up the washing as the boys chatted over their takeaways trying to figure out how many calories they were up to. I popped the remaining dishes in the dish washer and popped it on for the boys.

Once they had finished Cal and I bid the boys goodbye and hoped in an Uber, we lived in the same apartment complex so it made sense that we shared rides just about everywhere. “Soooo” cal started tapping his his legs to the beat of the song that the Uber driver had popped on for us. i gave him a questioning glance as I sent my text to Harry, informing him I had popped the dish washer on and for him not to forget about it. “When are you two finally going to get together” Cal said peering over my shoulder and trying to take a peek at my texts with Harry. I just scoffed switching off my phone and turning my head to look at Cal. “Look he got out of a long term relationship not even six months ago, he just needs a friend right now, and that’s all I am, a friend, plus even if he hadn’t just gotten out of a relationship, well I don’t think he’d be interested in me anyway, like I said I’m just a friend” I shrugged to Cal giving him a half smile trying to cover the sadness which was evident on my face. “I don’t know Y/N if you ask me, or well any of the lads he looks at you like your a gift here gracing us all with your presence. like your some type of angel, he likes you, he really does, he’s just scared to ruin what you have” Cal stated as we hoped out the uber and made our ways into the lift. “Well I don’t want to sound rude, but I didn’t ask Cal, I don’t need my hopes being brought up just for it all to be speculation.” I stated matter of factly. “This is me, I’ll see you later yh?” I questioned Cal who just pursed his lips and nodded to me giving a small see ya.

I really wasn’t trying to be rude but I had had my heartbroken so many times, and I don’t want to start getting my hopes up about Harry if it is just all speculation and some sort of narrative the lads were making up for themselves. I slumped down on my bed and posted a selfie on instagram asking people what they want to know about me. I wasn’t a huge YouTuber but I did have a large instagram following meaning the questions flooded in within an instant. There was the usual that I answered such as my favourite colour, what am I having for dinner, best place I had ever visited and so on. After a few more generic questions someone asked what my favourite picture was. I scrolled through my camera roll and found one of Harry and I at winter wonderland. we were both wearing Santa hats and he was giving me a piggy bag as I held onto a large teddy he had won me moments before. I captioned it ‘Christmas with my Bestfriend, look at how goofy he looks @wroetoshaw’ I giggled as I posted the pic remembering that day. it was a rare day off for the both of us and with Harrys break up still fresh I decided we should go to Winter Wonderland and just have fun. Which we did, it was one of my most treasured memories with him. He had taken his breakup so hard that I felt it was important that he had a friend around who could take the crying and emotions, someone to just cuddle with and forget about the world. And over the past few months I realised that my feelings for Harry had grown, but he was still hurting and there was no way that I was being any boys re-bound.

I must have fallen asleep because I woke up to blaring light through the blinds of my lounge. I groaned to myself before getting up and trudging to my bedroom to sort myself out. i looked at my phone and I had a few texts from Harry. I smiled as I read them.

‘Thank you! Almost forgot, you are honestly the best Xx’

‘You alive???? Xx’

‘Good night Xx’

‘Like the insta pic’

I furrowed my eyebrows at the last text. It was sent only minutes after the goodnight text and it didn’t have any of the kisses we usually put on the end of our texts to each other. I also hadn’t got a good morning text from Harry, that was particularly strange because I have always gotten a Good morning and Good night text from him for the past few months with out fail. I just shrugged it off before replying,

‘Haha no problem! I fell asleep as soon as I got home I’m sorry :( wanna meet up later? Xx’

I smiled at my reply before going to my bedroom and changing to look more presentable. I checked my phone and it was almost lunch meaning Cal was coming over to film a video with me. just as I re adjusted my hair for the a millionth time I heard a knock on the door signalling that cal was here. “Hello stranger” I smiled letting him into my apartment with the array of crisps and snacks he had in his arms. We were filming a British corner shop mukbang whilst answering twitter questions. As Cal settled himself in my studio I helped by opening the array of snacks and cans of drink that he had bought for us. “Hey really weird question but have you heard from Harry today?” I questioned trying not to sound so desperate as to the whereabouts of the boy. “Uh yh messaging me all morning, think he’s got something on tonight. He not told you?” Cal looked up from the array of junk raising his eyebrows at me as I just shook my head in disbelief that he was ignoring me. As we settled in our seats and I turned the camera on I sent Harry a quick text.

‘Hey have I done something wrong?? :( Xx’

The video was going amazing. Cal and I just naturally bounced off of each other and the questions the fans were giving us were quite juicy. “Alright, alright, I’ve got one. Y/N has Harry asked you out yet or is he still being a melt? From @CalFreezy” I giggled at the question and raised my eyebrows at Cal. “These are meant to be from Fans” I retorted to Cal telling him off a little. “Yh Freezy is your biggest fan he’s always nattering on about you and talking about you moving in with them when Harry gets the guts” Cal defended himself causing me to burst out laughing. “Well we all know Harry and I are friends, I love him very much but that’s as deep as it goes” I replied to Cals previous question from Freezy, slight sadness barely evident in my voice. “Is that the only thing that goes deep” Cal stated before bursting out laughing at himself and falling back in his chair ultimately falling off of it causing me to laugh. “Well that’s it for today guys thank you for watching and thanks to this idiot for joining me” I smiled at the camera before shutting it off and helping Cal from the floor.

“You really need to stop that you know? You can’t force anything to happen” I said matter of factly towards cal as he nibbled on some Pringles. “You see Y/N I’m actually Cal from the future and I’m just stating facts” he gave me a cheesy grin as I tutted at him and rolled my eyes. I was taken out of my trance by a text from my phone. “Alright ditch me for lover boy” Cal called after me. I opened my phone to see it was from Harry but it wasn’t what I was expecting.

‘Hey Y/N, we shouldn’t hang out anymore it makes Belle uncomfortable.’

“Cal what the fuck is this” I shouted to my friend. I heard the thudding of his feet and turned around to show him the message I had just received. He furrowed his eyebrows. “Belle Belle Belle Oh Belle, her really?” Cal scrunched his nose up at me. “Ummm elaborate, who’s Belle?” I pressed for him to release more info to me. “Oh Harry went on a date with her like three weeks ago, looks like it worked out, well for them I guess” Cal shrugged piecing the different parts of the puzzle together for me. “Oh, wow, so he is just gonna drop me like that, like I’m, I’m nothing, like i wasn’t the one there for him when he was mourning over his last breakup. Well that’s a kick in the teeth” I said starting to sniffle, tears threatening to break their way out of my eyes and my mood instantly dropping to nothing. “Hey no don’t cry” Cal said engulfing me in a hug, which I gladly melted into. “If he couldn’t see what he had with you then that boy is more blind than we all thought.” Cal reassured me rubbing my back. “Plus your make up looks too nice to cry it off” Cal said catching a stray tear from my face and making me giggle a little. “Oh Cal why can’t we fall in love?” I questioned sniffing and straightening out my clothes. “Because that would be like fucking my sister and that’s weird” Cal stated making me giggle.

I don’t think anyone could quite get their heads wrapped around the fact that Harry was with someone new, especially because that someone was not me. For the next month I got fans tweeting me asking if Harry and I had broken up or if he had gone crazy. I also got sorry looks from my friends. Always being placed in the furthest seat away from Harry, always given excuses as to why I couldn’t come to shoots. It sucked majorly. And the worst part about all of this is everyone felt like they had to tread on eggshells around me, as if I wasn’t a fully grown woman who could handle these situations.

I knocked on Simons apartment door before he opened it replying to someone about something. “Oh Y/N you alright” he said quickly closing the door a little. “Yh Talia said I could pop round and grab my camera that she borrowed.” I said smiling at the lanky man. “Oh yh well um come in, just be careful yh” Simon nodded at me. I furrowed my eyebrows and just nodded at his comment following him through to the living room. And as soon as I saw the tall figure sat next to Harry with an unimpressed look on her face I realised why Simon gave me such a warning. “Heyyyy Y/N Is here” Ethan called standing up giving me a hug making me giggle a little. “Yh Talia knicked my camera again” I stated smiling at the girl who blushed a little realising she still hadn’t returned my device. “Oh so that’s Y/N” a snotty voice said causing everyone to quiet down and all eyes turning in her direction. “Yup, the one and only” I smiled back at her trying to be as nice as possible. “Belle right? Nice to meet you” I smiled back at her trying to make conversation in the silent room. I rocked back and forth on my heels for a while, Belle gave me a good look up and down, narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips as if wanting to comment something. Before she could I saw Harry whisper something to her and she scoffed. “If I have an opinion I’m going to say it. And I have many about her” Belle said loud enough for everyone to hear whilst pointing at me. “Here I found it” Talia smiled at me handing me my camera before noticing the mood of the room.

“Ok well, I will be off then, lovely to see you all and to meet you Belle” I stated the last part through gritted teeth before spinning around and making my way to the door. “Even worse from the back” I heard Belle try and whisper to I presume Harry. I stopped in my tracks and raised my eyebrows. The audacity of this girl, how dare she disrespect me in front of all my friends. I turned around to meet her eyes with a sickeningly sweet smile on my face. Before I could say anything though Talia butted in. “You know what, you do not talk to my friend like that, I have barely known you a month and I am so sick of you already, please leave before I do or say something I regret” she smiled at Belle joining me by my side and linking arms with me. Belle just looked around at everyone, with everyone just averting their gaze and waiting for something big to happen. All she did was huff, grabbing Harrys hand and storming out of the apartment with him.

“Jesus Y/N what did you do to make him choose her, she’s like an angry controlling goblin” Ethan huffed as soon as we all heard the door close. “Hey, I got cut off a long time ago, ask him not me” I giggled before thanking Talia and leaving the apartment to go home.

I was lounging around my apartment, Ethans words spiralling around my head. I decided tonight was for me. I popped on my favourite movie and rummaged through my freezer finding some ben and Jerrys and starting to scoff down the tub. This sofa must be super man or something because I had soon fallen asleep, I was only awoken by loud continuous knocking at my door. I regained my focus and gaged my surrounding before wrapping a blanket around myself and making my way to the door. As soon as I opened it I was pulled into a bone crushing hug. “I’m so fucking sorry, its you its always been you, I don’t know what I was thinking, I just needed someone to fill the void and she was ok for a week but I need you. You are all I need, all I want, please forgive me I love you” as much as I just wanted to melt into his arms I pulled my self back so that we were an arm lengths apart. “You best come in” I sighed. I finished the teas and made my way over to Harry, passing him his favourite mug of mine. I crossed my legs as we sat at opposite ends of the sofa in silence.

“What about Belle?” I broke the silence, harry whipped his head up to look at me. “Look I’m so sorry she was a mistake and I should never have even given her shot. She’s so nasty and I could never forgive myself. This past month without you has felt like my heart was ripped in two. I’ve been so miserable and then when I saw you today I felt like I had been given a new chance at life. I get it if you hate me but I need you so bad and I cant live without you.” Harry opened his heart to me for the second time that evening. “You’re such a dummy Harry” I said with a sigh placing my mug on the coffee table. Harry looked at me as if he was broken by the words I just said. I just shook my head at him before leaning over and planting a soft kiss on his lips. The moment seemed to last forever. It was like in the movies when time slowed down and fireworks erupted around the couple who after all their trials and tribulations finally found each other. “I can’t help but love you Harry” I whispered only inches from his face as I pulled back for air, a sly grin on my face. Harrys arms snaked around my wait brining me into him for another soft kiss. i leant my head on his chest listening to his heart, thumping like it was going to break out and slap me in the face. “So what now” harry mumbled into my hair. I leant up so my eyes met his. “Well you will ask me on a date to a nice restaurant where we end up getting a little too drunk. Then we walk along the Thames, watching people walk by when at the perfect moment when the city goes silent you ask me to be your girlfriend and then we come back here and spend the night together. But with a little more physical activity than were used to” I grinned at him causing him to chuckle. “So you forgive me?” He said looking at me with pleading eyes. “God yes I forgive you, I could never be mad at you” I smiled at him. How could I? I did truly love him and it was as simple as that.

After a few months, and the date Harry had promised, we told our friends and announced to our followers that we had finally decided to get together. apparently it was quite obvious as the boys had started taking bets as to when we would tell them about our new relationship. The fans seemed to love it as well, always receiving amazing and supportive comments on all of our posts and videos that we did together. Although we were young I think people saw how care free and happy we made each other. Most importantly how much we loved each other.

#Harry Lewis x reader #Harry Lewis one shot #Harry Lewis imagine #wroetoshaw #harry lewis #w2s #sidemen

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luxekook · 4 years

Text

chapter seven.

⇥ pairing: ot7 x reader

⇥ genre: college au with fluff, smut & angst

⇥ summary: a series in which the reader meets (and falls for) seven members of the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) fraternity

⇥ word count: 3.6k

⇥ warnings: 18+, lots of cursing, general chaotic energy, poly relationship, a short confrontation, mentions of slut-shaming, switch!reader, dom!joon, switch!jin, sub!jimin, library shenanigans, an abundance of coffee, punishments, spanking, bad puns (jin is in this chapter, DUH), many nerd references uwu

Chapter Seven

Quinn Library – 3:54pm

The end of September passes in a blur of studying, partying, volunteering, and spending time with friends. The month’s conclusion also includes the increasing presence of seven boys in my everyday routine.

Since giving Taehyung the suck of his life in the bathroom of Hannigan’s, I have been basically fighting off the seven of them for a moment to breathe. But, sometimes breathing is overrated when being smothered by affection.

Going from being single to essentially dating seven people is quite the adjustment. I found myself growing attached to them – something that both excited and scared the shit out of me. We haven’t discussed labels or anything, but I figure it’s only a matter of time. The boys have apparently been planning an elaborate first date for this upcoming weekend, and I feel like they’ll probably ask to make it official then.

My stomach erupts in butterflies at the thought, and I take a calming breath. No need to overthink such things.

While it might be unconventional by some societal standards, polyamory is simply a way to love. Why should love come with confines? With binary expectations? The saying ‘love is love’ gets thrown around a lot, but I believe it bears repeating.

Jenni and Luna have been nothing but supportive to me over the past two weeks. They even came with me to volunteer this past weekend because they - and I quote - wanted to ‘check out our vibe’. But, I wholeheartedly expect that the real reason had actually been for them to feel out the boys’ intentions.

Why did I suspect this? Well, because Jungkook had come up to me within the first fifteen minutes at the worksite quivering in fear over how ‘scary my friends were’ and how ‘Jenni had cornered him to interrogate him while Luna hovered behind her, menacingly holding a nail-gun’.

I had never felt more loved and supported by my friends.

My phone dings, and I quickly hasten to put it on silent, shooting an embarrassed and apologetic look around the library. It seems like most people have headphones in, and I let out a sigh of relief. No one wants to be that one loud person in the library.

Checking my notifications, I smile when I see it’s a SnapChat from Hobi in the group chat the boys created a few weeks ago. My thumb swipes it open, and I barely contain myself from announcing to the whole library how vibrantly handsome one of my potential boyfriends is.

I quickly send a SnapChat back of me and my stack of books in the library with the caption ‘send help in the form of coffee’.

Immediately, Taehyung sends a flurry of heart eyes emojis in the chat, Jungkook sends a ‘noona is so cute’, and Yoongi sends back a picture of a black screen with the caption ‘come nap with me’.

God, I would love to nap with Yoongi right now… Alone time with the older boy is so elusively precious. One day last week at their house, I had mentioned wanting to learn piano. Yoongi had just grabbed my hand and tugged me to his room. We had spent a couple hours together in the small corner of his room playing on his keyboard.

Well, he had been playing; I had been fumbling around like a buffoon - half uncoordinated in general and half flustered by how good Yoongi looked playing. His hands had been so nimble as they flew over the keys, crafting melodies I could only assume he had composed. His focus had been so fucking hot as he nodded slightly along to the tempo in his head, his eyes shooting over to look at me every once in a while.

My hand kink? Activated.

My willpower to not kiss the shit out of Yoongi? Nonexistent.

When Yoongi had paused in between songs, I may or may not have grabbed him by his shirt collar and kissed him. His blushing attempt to dodge me had been so cute; and when I had stopped trying to kiss him, he had pouted and then kissed me instead.

What a cutie…

A giggle draws my attention from my reminiscing. At first, I pay it no mind, taking it as a directive to dive back into my studies. But then, the whispering starts.

“I heard she’s fucking her way through the whole house.”

“Isn’t there a term for that?”

“Yeah, a frat rat.”

I slam my 500-page textbook closed and stand, leveling the duo of gossiping girls with a glare that could make grown men cry. It had before when I had to properly eviscerate my uncle in defense of feminism at our last family gathering. What a time that had been.

“Is there a problem?” I force the question through gritted teeth, stalking over towards their nearby table. I relish in the way they gape at me, eyes wide and pupils quivering, “I’m sorry. I’m afraid my complaint jar is at capacity. Please don’t try again later.”

The girl on the right gulps, “No-nope, there’s no problem! We were just leaving. Right, Janika?”

“No,” The girl who had called me a ‘frat rat’ just moments before crosses her arms and stands, “I do, like, have a problem.”

“Janika,” The other girl tugs on the sleeve of the one standing, “Don’t.”

“Yeah, Janika,” I smile, “Don’t.”

I can see the moment she snaps.

“You’re, like, such a fucking bitch! I don’t know what they all see in you. Oh wait, yes I do. You’re fucking easy.”

I consider myself to be a patient person, but having to endure this type of rant against my character - and against women’s sexual freedom in general - has pushed me well past my limits.

“Now, listen here, Janika,” I take another step forward, “You can keep talking your shit. I really don’t give a flying fuck what you think about me. But I really advise you to google ‘how to stop slut-shaming for dummies’ because it seems like you need a crash course.”

Janika’s face darkens, “Whatever. They’ll get tired of you anyway.”

“Yeah,” I let out an amused laugh, “I’m sure they’ll get real tired of me choking on their dicks every night.”

Letting out a gasp, Janika whirls back around to face her silent friend, “Let’s go. I don’t want to, like, be around her any longer.”

“Buh-bye now,”I wiggle my fingers in their direction as they shuffle out of the library.

Smiling in satisfaction, I head back towards my table. Without hesitation, I gather my books and belongings and head upstairs to the quiet floor. Any more distractions or confrontations would probably make my blood pressure pop off the charts.

The quiet floor, as one of my safe havens, is home to several small private study rooms. Peering into each, I start to lose hope that any would be available. Finally, the very last room proves me wrong, and I swing open the door and almost in tears over the sweet, sweet solitude.

This particular study room is tucked away in the very far corner of the library’s second floor. Not many people are aware of its location, and it seems that paid off for me today. Plopping my things down across the table in the center of the tiny room, I follow suit and drop down into one of the two chairs adjoining the table.

What a clusterfuck of an afternoon… This sadly isn’t the first time I’ve heard some comments being made about my association with the BTS boys, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last. Yet, part of me knew all along that this would be the trade-off.

After all, what are a few irrelevant opinions to seven gorgeous and loyal partners? Inconsequential - in my opinion. That is the reason why I haven’t breathed a word of the backlash to anyone.

Sighing, I flip open my textbook to where I had been before being rudely interrupted.

The amygdala plays a key role in emotion and behavior…

“Noona?”

I jump a half-mile out of my chair, slapping a hand over my pounding heart. Jimin had somehow managed to enter the room without my knowledge. Had he fucking teleported?

Holding a giant iced coffee in one hand and a cinnamon bun in the other, Jimin beams at me and ignores the fact he just scared the living shit out of me. “Hi, noona! I saw your SnapChat while I was in class, and I came here as soon as I could.”

I stare dumbfounded at the angel before me. Jimin is slightly out of breath with reddened cheeks and a sweaty brow. His black track-pants are slung low on his hips, his long-sleeve white t-shirt clings to his torso, his black duffle bag thrown carelessly over one shoulder. He must have run over straight from dance class.

Standing abruptly, I stalk over to where Jimin is still posted up by the doorway to the study room. Toe to toe with him, I blurt out while still half in a daze, “You really brought me coffee and food?”

He eyes me warily like I might suddenly jump on him at any moment. Shifting his weight back and forth, Jimin hesitantly replies, “Um, yes?"

I take the coffee and cinnamon bun from his hands, place them on the table, and then tackle him with the biggest hug. "You absolute sweetheart!" I murmur into the crook of his neck, "This made my day. Thank you, Jimin-ie."

His hands tentatively wrap around me, pulling me closer. "You're welcome, noona. I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

“Well, I really appreciate it, baby,” My lips brush over the crevice of his collarbone and relish in his shudder. Bringing my head up to face his, I smile widely at him, “Can I kiss you, Jimin-ie?”

“Yes,” He sighs out, eyes already closing in anticipation. I press my lips to his, still smiling softly against his mouth. His lips are plush under mine, velvety soft. My tongue swipes across his bottom lip and— Is that coffee I taste?

I pull back, “Jimin, did you sip my coffee on your way here?”

The boy looks rightfully alarmed, “I– y-yes. But only a little, noona!”

Cute.

“Hmm,” I trail my fingers down his chest, “I guess I’ll make an exception for you this time since you were the one to bring it for me.”

Jimin relaxes slightly, but his expression is strangely disappointed. I stare at him quizzically, and he blushes.

“What is it?” I lean against the table, facing him.

He clears his throat, staring intensely at the ground, “You can still punish me if you want, (y/n)-noona.”

My eyebrows shoot upwards at his offer, and then I let out a slight chuckle, “Oh, Jimin… That would be a favor to you, wouldn’t it? My baby boy wants to be punished, hm? Did dance practice make you all hot and bothered? Jungkook tells me that has been happening to you lately.”

Jimin’s face explodes in color as he mutters, “That little bitch will pay for this.”

Suddenly, the door swings open with a resounding thud, nearly clipping Jimin in the shoulder.

“Your savior has arrived!” Kim Seokjin announces loudly in spite of the studiously silent atmosphere of the quiet floor. His hands hold two steaming hot travel mugs, which I can only guess are filled with the elixir of the gods (aka coffee).

Seokjin’s eyes glance around the room as he takes in the fact that I’m not alone as he obviously had expected. “Wait, Jimin-ie? What are you doing here?” Jin’s eyes flick down to the coffee and cinnamon roll that lay on the table. “Goddamn it!”

“You were too slow, hyung,” Jimin smirks happily as he takes a seat in the chair I had previously vacated. He slouches smugly as he stares up at the fuming older boy.

“Too slow?!” Jin roars.

“Jin,” I chastise, circumventing around him to shut the door.

“Sorry, babe,” Seokjin says while still glaring daggers at the all-too-pleased Jimin. Suddenly, his expression changes into a sneaky look that makes me both want to run and jump his bones. “Well,” He waves the two coffee mugs around in the air, “I made these myself - with love. I didn’t buy that generic shit; I brewed it, baby.”

It’s Jimin’s turn again to look disgruntled, and I can’t help but laugh at their antics.

“Any and all coffee is appreciated and loved by me – the more the merrier. So, thank you both,” You say, taking one of the travel mugs from Seokjin. Kissing his cheek, you turn back to sit opposite Jimin at the table.

“She kissed me on the lips!” Jimin bursts.

“Park Jimin!” I cry as Jin splutters some sort of incoherent rant about fairness and equality.

Jimin holds eye contact with me, still leaning back in his chair like he’s the king of the fucking universe. But, he’s not; I am.

My chair hits the wall behind me with a bang as I stand, planting my hands on the table to loom over Jimin. “Do you think it’s fun to push your hyung, Jimin? Does it amuse you to be a little shit?”

I can see the moment that Jimin decides to be a brat. His eyes heat up in a challenge, and he firmly answers, “Yes, noona.”

“Get up.” The change in my tone is apparent. Jimin gulps. Getting to his feet, he stares back at me expectantly.

“Jin,” I address the older boy while still maintaining eye contact with Jimin, “What kind of punishment do you think I should give our Jimin here?”

Seokjin rounds my other side, grinning, “Well, (y/n) darling, I believe he should get spanked.”

“Interesting choice,” I murmur, turning to face Jin, “That’s what you’re going to get then.”

“What?” Jin squawks, arms waving rapidly around in the air, “But I didn’t do anything!”

“Nothing is what you should have done, Jin,” I push him against the wall, “You know better than to let Jimin rile you up like this.”

Those plump lips of his pout dramatically as he whines, “But, (y/n)…”

“But nothing,” I say and then whirl around to face the other boy. He’s still standing where I left him with his eyes glued to the pair of us. “Jimin,” I hold his gaze, “You’re going to watch. You’re not going to touch yourself, your hyung isn’t going to touch you, and I’m not going to touch you.”

His eyes widen comically, “No! That’s not fair!”

“Do you want to be gagged, too, baby boy?” I ask, cocking my head slightly. Seeing his emphatic head shakes, I grin. “That’s what I thought. Now, stay.”

Turning back to Jin, I smirk slightly as I ask, “Punishment now or later?”

Seokjin’s eyes scrunch cutely in confusion, “What?”

“You see,” I move closer to him, my body brushes his, “I think you earned a punishment, but I think you also earned helping me punish Jimin.”

A wide grin crosses Jin’s face as he glances back at the corner Jimin is stewing in. “I would be honored to help you punish him, babe.”

“That’s what I figured,” I smile briefly at him before slowly sliding my hands up his chest to rest on the nape of his neck. Holding them there, I press the lightest of kisses to the corner of his lips.

Jin’s breath hitches in his throat.

I run my tongue against the seam of his mouth, taking my time and savoring the sweet taste of him. His lips part to let me in, my tongue sliding across his. I grind against him as we kiss, moving my hips in such a way that makes him groan and lean back harder against the wall.

“What the fuck is going on in here?”

Ripping my mouth from Jin’s, I turn to face the newcomer.

Namjoon stands in the doorway holding yet another cup of coffee, his face thunderous. "What do the three of you think you're doing? This is the goddamn library, you heathens!”

Seokjin jumps out of his skin in fright, pushing me away faster than I can anticipate. Stumbling back, I crash into Jimin – who apparently had ventured out of his assigned corner. Brat.

“The shades were open!” Namjoon continues to rant as he flicks the aforementioned item down to cover the door’s window, “Did you want people to see you?”

He reads the expression on my face correctly, “Oh, but you did, didn’t you, (y/n)?” Namjoon approaches where I’m still captured in Jimin’s embrace. Glaring down at me, he taunts, “So quick to stake your claim; but, make no mistake, they were mine first.”

Shaking out of Jimin’s hold, I straighten, raising my chin to meet Namjoon’s gaze full-on, “That’s interesting. I didn’t realize you were so lenient with your partners.”

Jimin makes a choking noise behind me. Jin stands behind Namjoon, waving a hand in front of his throat to clearly tell me to stop talking. I keep going, “Perhaps I need to teach you how to discipline.”

Namjoon flips me around, shoves Jimin out of the way, and bends me facedown across the table.

“Jin,” He says, his voice growly, “Stand in the hall and let me know if you can hear us.”

The sound of the door opening and closing alerts me that Jin followed Namjoon’s instructions without a word.

“Jimin,” He continues, “Hold (y/n)’s hands out in front of her.” Jimin ascquieces, staring apologetically down at me as he tugs my hands towards him.

“This is cute,” I say, “I always love holding Jimin-ie’s hands.”

Thwack. The stinging imprint of Namjoon’s palm on my ass burns deliciously. I arch my back, looking over my shoulder at him with a half-smile. “Do it harder, daddy.”

A breath sucks in between his lips as I utter the word I know will get him feeling as hot as me. “You’re playing a dangerous game, baby girl,” Namjoon grits out, his jaw clenched tightly.

“Oh, daddy,” I say, “Don’t you remember? I’m the fucking Queen.”

“Was that a chess pun? Nice.” A muffled voice followed by a squeaky laugh sounds through the door.

“Seokjin,” Namjoon seethes, flying over to open the door and drag the older boy back inside, “I thought I told you to let me know if you could hear us.”

I tug out of Jimin’s gentle hold, straighten back up, and then situate myself into a sitting position on the table.

I watch amusedly as Jin shimmies his way out of Joon’s grasp, “Yah! It’s not my fault I get intense FOMO. Don’t hate the player, hate the game. Besides, I only heard you because I had my ear pressed to the door.”

Jimin stifles a giggle. I let out a full-on laugh. Namjoon mumbles what sounds like a plea to some higher power under his breath.

“See what I have to deal with?” Namjoon turns to me, shaking his head. “Are you sure you want to sign up for this?”

“That depends,” I swing my legs back and forth as I stay perched on the table, “Are you going to keep spanking me?”

The boy who had just unhesitatingly bent me over to punish me now blushes and rubs the back of his neck. “I mean, probably? You have quite a mouth on you, baby.”

Hopping off the table, I laugh, “Good answer. Ten points to Gryffindor.”

“Woo!” Jin cheers, “Nice job on the House Points, Joon-ie!”

“I am in love with idiots,” Jimin sighs.

Grabbing my phone from my backpack, I let out a slight yell as I read the time. “Shit, shit, shit, shit!” I scramble to shove all of my textbooks back into my bag.

“What is it, noona?” Jimin worries, appearing next to me. “Are you late for class?”

“No,” I cry, “It’s so much worse. I’m late for my weekly Animal Crossing discord chat! Heath is gonna kill me…”

“Heath?” Jin scowls, “Who is this Heath you speak of?”

“Chill, fam,” I shrug my backpack onto my shoulders and stare contemplatively down at the three different coffees. “You can’t get jealous every time I mention a new person. What’s next? You’re gonna come for Tom Nook?”

Namjoon - who must play Animal Crossing - stifles a laugh as Jin pouts. “She has a point, Jin.”

“And so does a pencil. Big whoop,” Jin scowls with his arms folded.

“Aw, Seokjin-ie,” I coo, reaching over to pinch his cheek, “Don’t be mad. You’ll get to spend all day with me on Saturday after volunteering! What are we doing, anyways?” I level Joon with my best side-eye as I ask that question, knowing he is more likely than not the mastermind behind our planned date.

“It’s going to be great, noona!” Jimin pipes up, hugging me from the side, “You’re going to love it…You’re going to love us.” He murmurs the last part, probably not meaning for me to hear; but, I do.

God, I do.

“We’ll pick you up before volunteering,” Joon says, “Just bring yourself and a change of clothes.”

“What?” I decide - fuck it - and attempt to grab all three coffees, “No overnight bag?”

Jin, who had just taken a sip of his own coffee, spews it everywhere. “Pack one,” He gasps out in between coughs.

Laughing, I walk to the door, which Jimin kindly opens for me. “Okay, I’ll think about it. Ah, I’m so late. Jimin and Jin, I’ll punish you at a later time. Joon, you can try to punish me at a later time.” Living for their astonished expressions, I wave as best I can with three coffees in hand, “Bye, babes! Text me-e-e.”

As I make my way out of the library, it hits me that I only have one more day to prepare for this date. Fucking hell…

a/n: this is such a filler of a chap with a tinge of drama mixed in, hehe. the next one is gonna be that date tho uwu stay tuuuuuuned and thanks 4 reading

taglist: @catsandstrawberries @h5naaa @meowmeowyoongles @leftflowerprunedonut @rjsmochii @athletes-of-god @karissassirak @cage7241 @weallhavesecretsinthebestway @cvbachacbitch @honeyspillings @valiantcollectorofsandwiches @fivesecondsofsarang @oii-f-eli-x2 @joonsroses @theevilyouknow @jooniescupcakes @expensive-grl @i-dont-even-know-fck @doingmybestalltheftime @fangirling-all-the-way-tbh @laced-brds @breeeeh17 @lpayne612 @peachyharmoney @rilakoya @chulchuchi @tabula-rasa0 @guccishookv @nomimits7 @i-like-puppy-mg @s-noir @anna-sorel @im-a-space-child @yeontanismypresident @drowning-in-oxygen @team-wang-puppy @lvvegood @anongirl007 @may114 @r-e-d-i-s-h @unatempesta-dipensieri @dragon-rider-with-a-book @blueberrygeniejam @wondrsblog @vi-hoshi @kirbykook @katemwatson @kawaiikpoplover268 @amsteramyy @sami4life @a-feeling-of-euphoria @the-jackals @bubbletae7 @platinum-grenade @bunnyboyenthusiast @brightly-byun @oofmeintheheadpls @sadboibts @lidda @goldenwidow3 @t-mel19 @lmkjimin @psiphidragon @jeon-joker @sathom013 @lustremyg @ggsmashgg @justyouraveragerando @shadowstark @our-little-meow-meow @baby-hobii @toddsgirl27 @mythicalmeep @asifetch7 @kassandravictoria @eltrain80 @briannasthings @bumblekey93 @ohmwreckr @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @softchimmee @kookoo-kachoo @lenuminous @ass-hole-in-one @peaches-422 @spacejooon @sleepyje0n @uxwi @tellmeyoulovemepls @yady24 @lovesick-heart0 @redirect-min @hopetookourvibe @noonaduck @mini-coop25 @multifandomgirl29 @rhd31 @yoongixvevo @sweetnspicy93 @kuppyjiminie @love-and-other-possibilities @fuckyouandtheboatyoucamein @rvnchr4nd4 @geminidrawsstuff @livorna @naajix @minjoonhome

another a/n: if u asked to be added to the taglist and u did not get tagged, u might be one of the couple ppl that i couldn’t tag [check ur settings, fam!]

#bangtanhq #ficswithluv #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #hyunglinenetwork #180knet #kwritersworldnet #bangtanarmynet #btsbookclub #bts #bts x reader #ot7 x reader #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts series #kings of campus

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jubilantwriter · 3 years

Text

Of Blood and Static

Chapter 2: We're still stuck in the same rut as always.

(AO3) (First) (Previous) (Next)

Word Count: 2356

////

The Lady is aware of the loops. She knows how the song and dance goes by now - Mono frees Six, Mono and Six venture together through the Pale City, encountering foes new yet familiar at the same time, Mono frees the Thin Man, Six gets taken and becomes a monster, and Mono must save her by destroying her beloved music box.

And then they run to the exit, only for Mono to trip and lag behind. The bridge crumbles before them. Six stops and waits to catch him. She catches him, holds on tight as he dangles over the darkness below. And then she lets him go.

Each loop has her releasing him for a different feeling. Anger. Fear. Apprehension. Regret. Apathy. Sadness. Odd how the same journey seems to result in different feelings near the end. The song and dance continues, only she does so by herself. More and more loops continue. More and more fragments of memories persist. The Lady finds herself gathering these fragments like collecting broken shards of different mirrors, each reflecting a different her. A different loop. A different emotion. But now, with so many fragments collected, she finds herself piecing together mismatched shards to form a haphazardly cobbled mirror that reflects back a single her.

The one yearning for survival and life.

With Mono?

Without Mono?

She looks down at her empty hand, flexing it in the open air.

She needs him still. Needs him to continue these loops. That's what the her in the mirror reminds her of. A monster reflected back, so willing to use another if it means she can live forever. With Mono? Without Mono?

(What if they could live together in peace? Is that too hopeful? Perhaps. Perhaps survival is all there is.)

Maybe she'll never find an answer for herself. Instead, she turns from her mirror and faces the television in her quarters. The last loop ended... differently than most. There’s a sweetness to it, almost bittersweet. A feeling that leaves her craving for more. It had been... nice. Is she allowed that? To have nice things?

(Selfishly, she thinks yes, she does. Because being selfish is the only comfort she can provide for herself. Because that's all she ever is. Selfish.)

She places her hand up against the screen, curious to see how this one will end. It flickers on, screen twisting and turning until it focuses on the silhouette of a familiar man in a familiar hat. He looks defeated from where he sits, and immediately she knows that she has her work cut out for her.

"Again?" There is none of the greeting she expects. Just a simple question that she must answer. She looks down at her own hand. Why did she let him go this time? What emotion reared its ugly head this time around? She thinks and thinks and thinks and... finds only the feeling of unwillingness. Unwilling to let him go? How long have they been doing this? Maybe she too is getting tired of the cycles. But they need the cycles to survive.

(...Right?)

"I had to," she simply says. Because she doesn't have any other particular reason for letting him go. It's a habit now. A given. An expectation. She catches him and lets him go. She remembers looking down at his young face, so full of trust and relief. She just needed to pull him up. But she didn't. Why?

"Of course you had to." He slumps forward in his seat, leaving her to wonder what inflection he intended for. "Again and again and again. Nothing changes. It always remains the same. Why do we allow this to continue?"

"Because we must. To survive."

"Survival? Is this really survival?" The television doesn't voice his laughter, but she can see how his shoulders shake. "We're just living a mockery of life. A terrible simulation where we make the same mistakes over and over again. This isn't survival, this is..." He waves his hand around in the air. "This is hell."

For a moment, she doesn't answer him. Survival is survival. Isn't that why she chose to play along with his actions? To ensure these loops continue? So that they could live forever in this way? She doesn’t want to die for good.

(She doesn’t want him to die for good.)

"It's only hell if we make it to be hell."

"Bold words coming from someone who has an entire ship at her command." Even without his voice coming through the speakers, she can still hear the bitterness in his words. Perhaps she should be more careful with her wording given his… circumstances.

"Don't be like that, my life isn't all laughter and happiness." But she must admit, the Thin Man has a point. Calling her life anything terrible would be hard to argue when the Thin Man is forced to resign himself to being locked away until the loop begins its new cycle, only allowed to reach through screens to do... whatever it is he's allowed to do. He never elaborates on what it is that's supposed to make him monstrous, but she supposes she's never told him much about the Maw as well.

Still, it bothers her to see him so put out. He was always the more optimistic half of them, the one who was all smiles and laughter and knew how to find the brightest spot to bask in when they lived in a dreary, dark world. The Lady, then and now, was never good at humor. But she could try, if it means pulling him back to his feet. She hums and the man, still slumping in his chair, gives a curious tilt of his head. "But even if it's hell, at least you still have me."

His shoulders shake again, a mockery of the laughter that used to brighten her days when they were children. "Sometimes I do. It still feels strange to hold a civil conversation with you nowadays. I wonder what changed to make you see me as a friend, and not some... unseemly reminder of your past."

Curious. Now it's her turn to tilt her head. "I always found you to be a bright spot in my past."

"So bright," the caption begins, "that you had to let me go?"

"Well, you were simply too blinding to look at." She smiles behind her mask, watching him jerk his head up. "I never did get to see you without your paper mask until that day, you know."

"What are you trying to say? That you let me go because of my blinding good looks?"

"Well, you do make a very close second. Between the two of us, dear friend, I'd say that I'm the one with the truly blinding good looks." She presses her hand up against the glass screen, the warmth filling a piece of her up as she imagines a hand just as warm, with a gentleness to it that she'd forgotten she missed. "Maybe if I could see your face again, I could make a better assessment of your looks."

"Oh, you wouldn't like what you see." A pause. "Or perhaps you will. I heard you have a reputation for keeping ugly things around you."

She ignores the implications shot at her person (though, it's not as if he's wrong) and instead focuses on the other. "Are you calling yourself ugly? After I said that I was blinded by your looks as a child?"

"Time changes a person, my Lady." He straightens in his seat, as if to make a point. "I'm not the same boy who used to hold your hand."

(And whose fault was that?)

"Perhaps not," she mumbles, fingers curling on the screen, "but I would wager a bet and say that you haven't aged poorly at all."

"Bold words coming from you."

"One of us has to be bold." They always did try their best to be what the other lacked. If only she could take his hand and reassure him that it would all be okay, just like when they were children. "Besides, I always found you to be the better half of us."

"That's quite the admission. I always thought that you were too proud and vain to ever say something like that."

"Maybe," she says with a slight hum, "but I think for today, I can put it aside just for now."

"And why's that?"

"Even I crave a little change every once in a while." She taps at the screen, wondering if he can hear it from his side. "And for once, I’d like to be a little more honest with myself."

"Oh, so this is honesty? Not some sweet words to keep me on your side?"

"What if this honesty can be sweet?"

"I've never taken you to be a sweet person." Still, she can see his shoulders shake a little. A slight tremble that looks genuinely pleased. A little happy. When they were children, his laughs tended to make his entire body quake as he tried to keep it contained. She wonders if he still tries to keep his laughter quiet even now. How she wishes she could hear him.

"I usually am not. But I can make an exception every once in a while, where I see fit."

The Thin Man stays silent, and she wonders if she said something wrong. It's so hard to see his face from within the screen. With his hat casting shadows over his face, she can never tell what expression he holds at any given moment. Though when she thinks about it, it's not so dissimilar to when they were children and he kept that paper bag over his face.

Still. At least she had his voice to go off of.

"My Lady," the words begin, appearing slowly, letter by letter, as if he's carefully choosing his words, "can you promise me something?"

"Depends on what it is." Despite her coy act, she knows that deep down, she'll agree to whatever the Thin Man says. "What is it?"

"If you could, in the next loop, would you please try once more to... make an exception?"

"An exception? To what?"

"An exception to be sweet. More often." Even without him speaking, she can see the hesitance in his words. It tugs at something within her, an old feeling that makes her want to reach in and take his hand. "I think things would be a little more... tolerable, if something nice were to happen."

"I... don't know." It's her turn to hesitate when the implications of his plea sink in. She could be sweet. She could be nicer and treat him as kindly as he treated her. But then... the loops. They still continue. He knows this. She can treat him like he deserves and she'll still have to let him go. The betrayal won't sting then. It'll tear him apart, crushing him entirely as she lets him go. Doesn't he realize that? That she only treats him more sweetly now because she has nothing else to look forward to but her own death? It'll hurt him more than it'll hurt her, and yet...

"Please." He slumps forward again, head resting in his hands as he resumes his defeated pose. "It'll just be for one loop."

"I can't... guarantee it, Thin Man." She doesn't want to guarantee it. "Won't it just hurt you more?"

"I'll remember." He raises his head up, and she imagines the most pained smile on a face she's only seen in nightmares. "I'll remember that I asked for this, when all is said and done."

"I don't want to hurt you more than I already have." Hasn't she already done enough to him? Why would he want more pain?

"I want to hope again, Six." She flinches when he uses her name. The name she abandoned so long ago when she became the Lady. "I want to know if it's... possible. For us to change. To be different."

"Why?"

"Consider it a personal bet." His shoulders shake again, but there's a tiredness to them that speaks volumes of the weight on his shoulders.

(It's for their survival. It's for their survival. It's for their survival. Even if it hurts. Even if it's too much. It's for their survival, so that no one but themselves can hurt each other.)

"I..."

"Please, Six." The hopelessness in his text makes her want to crumble. "Just for one loop."

"...Okay." There's no way she's going to remember this promise. Not until it's after the fact. Not until her younger self takes her place as the "new" Lady and she becomes whole again. It’s always like finishing a puzzle - once the final piece slots in, she sees the bigger picture for what it is. Until that final piece completes it, all she has are the corners and cobbled together sections that she managed to put together. But maybe… that’ll be enough. Maybe the sentiment will remain strong enough for an inkling of feeling to trickle through, enough so that her younger self can see the sections and corners and think, “Ah, maybe I should try this.” The Lady lets her shoulders sag with the weight of the Thin Man’s hope. "I'll... I'll try."

"Thank you." He straightens, looking oddly stiff before the screen turns to static. The Lady sighs, thinking that their little conversation has ended without a single goodbye. Just as she's about to turn away from the television, a pair of hands press up against the screen. She sucks a breath in, watching with wide eyes as two hands push out from the screen, arms hanging out limply. Nothing else seems to push out, much to her dismay.

Still. Chances presented must be taken. She gently takes his hands and sandwiches them between her own. Her thumb rubs circles into the back of his hand as she softly hums a haunting tune. They share their warmth together in the quiet of her quarters as she takes everything he offers her.

Eventually, the loop draws to a close with the broken whine of static and the shattering of glass.

#little nightmares #little nightmares 2 #ln lady #ln thin man #ln six #ln mono #i call these beginning scenes the bite-sized chapters #these first few are gonna be easy to consume word count wise #but i'd advise against counting the chapters as indicators to how far along the story is #this was originally going to be a one-shot!#that means the chapters are very arbitrary and serve only to let me use chapter titles #they're gimmicks #anyway enjoy this additional little morsel #we're gonna be getting in deep soon enough!

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the-young-and-forgotten · 3 years

Text

Pianissimo: 30.12 - Worn out Polaroids

submission for @darlingdelacour’s “12 Days of Angst”

“As much as he lectures James and Sirius to be careful, he can’t take care of himself!” The caption at the bottom of the picture read.

The red light from his alarm clock told him that it was 3:23 am but Remus couldn’t sleep. It had been a week since you had left this cruel world, but all he could think about was you. He should’ve pressured you more not to go on that search mission for the remaining Death Eaters, then maybe you would be here, maybe none of this had happened. If only fate wasn’t cruel and had let Remus have one good thing in his life.

Earlier that night while cleaning out his closet, he had found a box of polaroids from his time in Hogwarts. Making a decision that he would most definitely regret in the next few hours, he took it into his lounge and started looking through it. Hence why he was crying while sitting cross-legged on the floor shuffling through random photos in the falsely happy glow of his Christmas tree.

He stuck his hand in once more and looked at the polaroid with the caption. This particular photo didn’t look too old, but it was slightly crumpled from spending years locked away.

He could tell straight away that was taken in 5th year when Remus had broken his arm trying to execute an elaborate prank. Y/n had stolen his camera and snapped this when he was in the middle of lecturing James and Sirius for making him do the most difficult part. She had also managed to get one of him in the middle of the prank in the process of breaking his arm. But that's beside the point.

He pulled out random photos, taking quick glances before casting them aside. He loved all them, but he was looking for those that held strong memories.

Looking through, he realised most of the photos in this box had been taken by him so he wasn’t in a lot of them. Not that he minded, he preferred to see his once happy friends rather than himself.

His friends. Jeez, he missed them. Four were dead, killed by their best friend who was now imprisoned. Remus felt like an empty shell, trying to fill himself up with old memories that don’t even feel like his own anymore. He shook his head. Continuing that train of thought only led to disaster. But it was undeniably inevitable. He knew he would think about it again, but he put it off for now.

All of the photos were snapped in the heat of the moment causing quite a few of them to be blurred, shaken up from laughter. Moments with his friends were so crazy to look back on. For young boys drunk on superiority and power. Drunk on the belief that they could change the world, that it will all work out in the end. But it wouldn’t, it couldn’t. As they found out all too soon.

This was making him sadder and sadder, piercing his heart. But he couldn’t stop now, not when he was committed to remembering his family somehow. So he reached into the box and pulled out even more random photos.

There was a picture of them in the snow, all you could see of Peter was legs as James stood over him acting like he had just found a new country. Another of them sneaking out to Hogsmeade, Remus and Y/n wrapped up together in a thick cloak as they blushed furiously. One of the very many photos of James trying and failing to woo Lily. The next was of James getting used as a Christmas tree (a very grumpy one) and that random one of Sirius running around the common room with his hair on fire, screaming the lyrics of “God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs.” That was a weird day.

The photos he saw gave Remus so much life, having him in tears of laughter and longing as he relived each memory he picked up from that box.

Before he knew it, only two Polaroids were left in the box, facedown. He gingerly picked up one and flipped it over, shaking his head at the photo. He remembered this one a bit too well. It was the day James and Sirius decided to steal his camera and follow Remus and Y/n around the castle while stifling giggles from under the invisibility cloak.

Coincidentally, it was also the day Remus finally gathered the courage to kiss Y/n. It was just a quick kiss, Remus literally leaned over while you were rattling on about something and press his lips to yours, but it was long enough for the boys to take this opportunity to snap a shot. All the two of you could hear was the distinctive “CLICK” of the camera and the screams coming from the boys as they ripped off the cloak and whipped it around their heads, acting like total morons.

He clutched this one to his chest as he picked up the last photo. When he turned it around, he gasped. This photo must have been taken by one of Lily’s friends back in seventh year.

It was one the few moving photos that Remus had in his possession.

All of them were there, side by side without a care in the world. Just continuous joy.

Sirius was on the far left, playfully putting Peter in a headlock while roaring with laughter. Peter was shouting and trying to get Sirius’ arm off him but you could detect the flicker of loving exasperation each time he failed to move it. On the right, Remus had one arm slung over Y/n’s shoulders, gazing over James and Lily’s heads wearing a small smile with a look of “how the hell am I friends with idiots like these?” on his face. Y/n was doubled over holding her stomach, her face alight with contagious happiness, absolutely dying from laughter. In the middle were James and Lily. James being the romantic cheese he was, was kissing Lily on the temple and whispering sweet nothings into her ear as she smiled wearily rolling her eyes at the state of her friends.

The words written on the bottom of the photo read “The Marauders will be together always. Until the very end.”

Back in his lounge, Remus traced the photo, smiling at it softly. Dear god he missed you. He missed all of his friends. He missed Hogwarts. He missed how simple life seemed back then. I mean sure, it wasn’t perfect but it was his. He was in control of everything that happened around him. He was in the centre of it all. Ruling from his throne, as his best friends stood next to him seated on their own glittering seats. The picture's caption was engraved on their crowns, wild grins on everyone’s faces. Everything going exactly how they wanted it to.

But now those thrones were rubble. Life had decided to flip around and choke him. “Look here” it seemed to say, taunting him. “You thought you were in control?” And finally, after 7 years of fighting for a future he wasn’t meant to have, he succumbed to the harsh reality of fate. He gave up. Breaking one of the Marauders' most sacred rules “Never give up”. But then again, they all did. “Stick together no matter what.” Remus chuckled to himself. Look at them now, spread out between worlds, with no chance of reaching each other.

And finally “Marauders don’t die” He still remembered that day. James had told them this after pulling off one of their best and most dangerous pranks yet. James was ecstatic with joy even though he was wrapped up in bandages and confined to a hospital bed. His eyes were glittering as he bounced up and down on his bed, giving everyone a heart attack. “Listen to me boys” He had said, voice full of overwhelming confidence and life. He pulled the other marauders close to him, looking at each fully in turn. “Marauders don’t die. Not when fate tells us to at least. We die when we want.”

‘How hypocritical’ Remus thought. ‘To think, you had made up that rule. But where were you now James? Dead. Gone. Forever.’

‘Whatever’ He thought, pressing this photo to his chest as well. Maybe they didn’t break all of their sacred rules. He knew, even if more than half of the Marauders were dead, no matter how far apart they were, they would be with him always. As they promised each other years ago.

#12daysofangst #remus x reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin angst #remus lupin #remus lupin oneshot #tw: death mention #remus #remus lupin x reader angst #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin drabble #remus angst

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doshmanziari · 3 years

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Architectural Criticism in 2021/2022 || Part 1.5

Before writing a fuller continuation of my previous essay on architectural criticism, I’m inserting a mini-essay that focuses on a particular piece of criticism. Let me be clear: I don’t see Kate Wagner, the person behind @mcmansionhell, as an enemy; I’m just using one of her articles as an example because I had, in my essay, already linked two articles of hers (more accurately, one article and an image from another), and I’d rather elaborate on what I mean when I write “...a vapid buildup to a politically convenient takeaway” than bring in an entirely different item. Wagner, in my view, represents a sort of destabilizing criticism that takes pleasure in tackling “dry” subject matter with breathless, Meme-heavy sarcasm. I find the tone off-putting, but I appreciate it as one attempt to invigorate and broaden the audiences of architectural appraisal. My issue is that by now the joke has overestimated its capacity for judgmental clarity. Really anything can be made fun of if you’re determined enough, and the more of an unquestioning audience you have the easier it is to believe everything you say is true or coherent.

The image was from this 2018 Vox article: “Betsy DeVos’ summer home deserves a special place in McMansion Hell” (a title likely devised by the editor; given the other residences Wagner has lambasted, I would be surprised if she truly believes this is among the worst). My observations won’t make sense unless anyone who is reading this reads her article as well, so please do that if you’d like to follow along. It should take only a couple of minutes.

What I’d first draw readers’ attention to is that Wagner spends the first four paragraphs on the United States’ beyond-vast inequality of wealth. Two of these paragraphs are the article’s largest, and the article is twelve-paragraphs-long, meaning that 1/3 of it is devoted to establishing a socio-economic context -- at least, that is the pretense. Once Wagner writes “...getting paid to make fun of DeVos’s tacky seaside decor is one of few ways to both feed myself and make myself feel better”, it is clear that her personal intent is a kind of vengeful mocking, and that her intent for readers is to prime them to associatively, knee-jerkingly despise anything which could come next with flat-affect “lmao”s. It’s hardly irrelevant to mention economic realities when examining luxury items (and what else is a mansion?), but Wagner’s subsequent analysis is not really architectural or even artistic: it is rather about looking at several photographs of a building, knowing who lives there and hating that person (and also imagining that they were responsible for all design decisions), and then mocking this-and-that in whatever ways one can devise. These grievances are understandable, but understandable grievances do not automatically lead to perceptive criticism.

Please look (perhaps again) at the first image. Note that only four, maybe, of the fourteen details Wagner chooses to focus on -- “no wry comment needed”, “these look like playdoh stamps”, “when you love consistency”, and “oh my god is this a shutter” -- approach anything vaguely resembling coherent criticism; and the other four images fare even worse (with the exception of the highlighting of an apparently absurd interior balcony). The rest are inane attempts at saying anything at all. Writing “hell portal” by an upper porch area may be funny for a moment, but what does it actually express? Well, nothing, except the author’s own irritation which will find whatever it can to announce its contemptuous sarcasm. Wagner’s captions will land only to the degree that the reader is humorously sympathetic.

The aforementioned remarks, excepting the one about the embedded chubby Tuscan columns’ Play-Doh-likeness, suggest that the worst thing a building can do is be formally heterogeneous. The implicative corollary here is that good architecture is eminently justifiable in all of its parts -- consistent, unified, rational. This is as fine a personal belief as anything else, but when it is wielded as dogma against architecture which has no interest in being a Petit Trianon it can only reveal its intellectual self-limitations. Wagner writes that “there is a difference between architectural complexity and a mess”, yet what that difference may be is hand-waved away. We just have to believe that thirteen different windows styles is too much. What’s the threshold? Does it depend on the size of the building? The types of styles used? Who knows.

Now of course bad architecture exists, and sometimes the failure indeed points to deficient editorial acumen; for architecture, like any other art, is as much about what’s included as what’s excluded. But in saying so little about the shingle style itself, Wagner seems to have given no thought to readers concluding that all shingle style houses are freakish -- more specifically, concluding that this freakishness is a damning transgression, and that no self-respecting, punching-up class-warrior would ever be caught dead sincerely enjoying their geometric, “exquisite corpse” escapades. In fact, the freakish tendencies of shingle style houses are just what make them such great fun to see, visit, or reside in. Wagner’s article, as far as I can tell, omits this possibility. When she writes, “Betsy likely went with this style because it is very popular in New England and in coastal enclaves of the rich and famous in general”, one is being pushed to presume that the only probable reason the shingle style exists or could be preferred over another style is to signal élite solidarity.

The photograph right above is of Kragsyde, a Massachusetts shingle style mansion, designed by the US-Northeast-oriented firm of Peabody & Stearns, completed in the 1880s. It was demolished almost a century ago, but the few exterior images of it which remain are, I think, fascinating -- maybe most of all for its enormous archway, possibly a porte-cochère, which has a thin, overextending keystone bizarrely driven into the top like a nail puncturing a petrified rainbow. I bring the building up because Wagner gives us no reason to consider why Kragsyde may have been a genuine architectonic accomplishment and not merely an oversized farce of contiguous pretensions. To the layperson hot off of the Vox piece, there may be no artistic difference between it and DeVos’ place, except that perhaps Kragsyde has a more consistent fenestrative application (would that make it better? if so, why?).

I appreciate that only so much can be said when you’re limited to less than a thousand words, especially when the issue is “complicated” (as the byline for Vox’s First-person series advertises). But the problem I keep coming back to is how DeVos’ mansion is treated as a stand-in for DeVos herself. This makes any architectural critique, no matter how pressed it is for size, flimsily presentist: its durability starts and ends with how alive the architecture’s resident(s) and political presence are. On some emotional level, this is pretty sensible: if we despise monarchical institution, we can find a sort of loophole to enjoying Versailles palace on the basis of it no longer being the residence of royalty. Our awe over its decadence and scope is intersectionally “admissible” on the basis of its having become a UNESCO World Heritage site. Similarly, one can imagine DeVos’ mansion being appreciated in a hundred years (should it still exist then) because the passage of time will have rendered DeVos’ person a historical fact, and perhaps more separable, and then tolerable, in that regard -- even if the building remains private.

But if architecture is, as a craft, critically whittled down to nothing more or less than inorganic expressions of social disparities, with every aesthetic decision a reflection of politically explicable taste, then we must assume that a great deal of the world’s most remarkable architecture is equally ridiculous and despicable, since so much of it was born out of great privilege and required specialized resources. I doubt Wagner actually believes this, because it would betray the entire premise of her McMansion Hell project, which is to demonstrate how so many modern day mansions are deeply unpleasant mounds of visual illiteracy, and cannot hold even a stump of a candle to the luminously learned and eclectic talents of prior great architects such as Mackintosh, Norman Shaw, Lutyens, or Ledoux. So what’s the takeaway here? As far as I can tell, it’s simply that if you hate Betsy DeVos, and if you care about class, you should hate her house too. And I do not think that that is architectural criticism.

#Architecture #architectural criticism #mcmansion #shingle style

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hockeyboistrash · 4 years

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that night | k.h

summary: a wedding, a pregnancy test, and a bunch of nosey hockey players. what could possibly go wrong?

The venue was perfect for Jenny’s and Corey's wedding. It was classic but not over the top. There was also enough room for the whole Flyers organisation and the bride and groom's family. While Travis suggested having orange as the colour, Jen decided against that and instead chose a nice shade of purple, which you were grateful for being a bridesmaid and all.

A glass of champagne was put in your hand at some point but you put it down as soon as you saw Carter trying to get your attention. You were friends with some of the younger players on the team but you were more like an older sibling than anything else. You went over to him and he lead you to the downstairs bathroom where Travis and Nolan were. You sent the latter a questioning look who only responded with a shrug.

"Okay, why are you three hanging around in the bathroom? And why am I here?" You asked, folding your arms across your chest and glaring at the three of them when no one said anything.

"Well we may have overheard Corey freaking out about the wedding and then I found this." Travis said showing the pink stick in his hand. "We thought that maybe it’s Jenny's."

"I’m going to stop you right there. Firstly, you do know someone’s peed on that, right?" You started making him drop the stick and scrunch up his face in disgust. "And secondly, you shouldn’t speculate who's it is. No one is going to say anything, got it?" They all nodded, not wanting to have your wrath if they didn’t listen to you. You shooed them out of the bathroom, staying in there yourself for a moment. This was the last thing you needed on top of keeping the wedding on track.

After taking a breather you left the bathroom bumping into Kevin. "Is there a reason why you four were in there together?" He asked, a huge grin on his face. It was one you couldn’t help but reciprocate.

"I don’t even know myself." You said with a little laugh and Kevin joined in. His laugh warmed your chest, it was probably one of your favourite sounds. Once the laughter died down you sighed and the stress you were feeling was apparent.

"Here. You look like you could use this." Kevin said handing you his drink.

"I can’t." You hesitated. "I can relax tomorrow once all of this is over but thank you."

"At least slow down a little. Everything looks perfect." He assured you, putting his hand on your arm.

You sent him a tired smile placing your own hand over his, appreciating the contact. "I’ll try."

"Y/N..." Kevin started and you knew what he wanted to talk about but you weren’t ready for that conversation and in the middle of the wedding weekend was the worst place to have it.

"I’ve got to check on the kitchen, Kev." You told him before leaving him alone in the hallway. You weren’t denying that you were avoiding him. The inevitable conversation was one that you were going to push for as long as you can.

When Kevin came to Philadelphia and to the team you became fast friends. It wasn’t a friendship like you had with the younger players. They were more like your brothers whereas you were in love with Kevin. It was a cliche, you knew that, yet you couldn’t help it. You had fallen for him hard but you never said anything because you didn’t want to ruin your friendship. This year hit differently when Kevin told you his plans of going to Boston over the summer. You knew it was going to happen, he did it last year. This time though you were going to miss him.

He came over the night before he had to leave for the airport. The two of you had dinner and now were watching a film, not that you were paying attention to it. He had is arm wrapped around you, pulling you so you were curled up next to him. It felt very domestic.

"What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?" Kevin asked, looking down at you with that goofy grin you love so much. Heat rose to your cheek at the thought of him catching you glancing at him throughout the evening.

"Just thinking about how quiet my apartment will be with you in Boston for the summer." You laughed.

"Take that back." He gasped although you could tell he was trying to hold back his own laughter.

"Make me." You grinned and Kevin saw that as a challenge as he started tickling you. Both of your laughter filled the apartment. It ended up with you laying on the couch with Kevin on top of you, his arms either side of you.

The alcohol you had earlier paired with the position you were now in had your inhibitions clouded. You looked up to see Kevin looking down at you with so much love in his eyes, or at least that’s what you perceived it to be. You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck and leaned forward, softly pressing a kiss onto his lips. He didn’t pull away, in fact he kissed you harder. Neither of you pulled away until you both needed air.

"Are you sure about this?" Kevin asked and you nodded. He placed his hands under your thighs so he was holding you as he carried you to your bedroom. Laying on your bed, he started undressing you, pressing kisses up your stomach and to your neck then lips.

You ended up snuggled into Kevin's side, his arm around you, mirrored to how you were on the couch. "I’m going to miss you." You mumbled in your sleepy state.

"I’ll miss you too, Y/N/N." He returned before falling asleep himself.

The next morning the space beside you was empty and cold. You couldn’t help but have a sinking feeling in your stomach when you saw that Kevin was gone before you woke up. The thought of him regretting last night plagued your thoughts until you saw a text from him.

You looked peaceful sleeping so I didn’t want to wake you. Call you when I land.

He also sent a picture of him on his flight pouting with the caption 'missing you already'.

Kevin did call when he landed and got settled back home but he didn’t mention the night before. Mind you, you didn’t either. It was a two way street so you could have easily said something yet you felt something holding you back, maybe it was thought of losing him as your friend and not having him in your life.

It was easier to hide behind a phone than seeing him in person. All the feelings you have suppressed from that night came back at full force. You missed the way he held you, the way his kisses felt. Being at a wedding surrounded by your friends didn’t help. This was the last place you wanted to talk.

Thankfully the pregnancy test that was found wasn’t brought up until after the ceremony. The toasts have been done and everyone was chatting amongst themselves having a good time, dancing stupidly to the dj for their Instagram stories. The bride and groom however were standing in the hallway just off to the side of the main room with you and a few others.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" Corey asked.

"Tell you what?" Jen replied confused as to what he was on about.

"That you’re pregnant." He said and everyone’s eyes widened. Yours for a different reason though as you had told Travis to shut his big mouth about it.

"Because I’m not. Where is this coming from?"

"Teeks said he found a pregnancy test and-" He started before getting interrupted. While they were having this conversation you sent a glare to the young forward in question.

"Oh so if TK said it must be true?" Jen asked sarcastically. "And you, why did you just assume it was mine?" Travis shrugged at that and was about to say something when you sighed, having had enough. You shut your eyes momentarily feeling the start of a headache coming.

"It’s mine, okay?" You blurted out and silence fell upon the group. Everyone’s eyes were on you but it was Kevin's you felt drilling into you. It wasn’t confusion like everyone else’s but rather concern. "So can we please just drop it and carry on with this reception." You pleaded. Jen nodded along with the others before they headed back into the main room. You didn’t follow them though but rather made your way outside, tears threatening to fall.

You knew without looking that Kevin followed you outside. He didn’t say anything and instead wrapped his arms around you, letting you cry into his chest. The two of you stood like that in silence until you ran out of tears and you stayed like that with your head on his chest.

"I’m not pregnant." You mumbled. Kevin was surprised momentarily that you spoke up, certain that he’d have to try and get you to speak. "It was a false positive."

"Why didn’t you tell me?" He asked carefully. You knew what he was asking so he didn’t need to elaborate.

"I- I was scared." You admitted. You moved so you were looking at him but still had your arms wrapped around his waist. "We didn’t talk about that night and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship."

Kevin nodded, taking a moment to think about how he wanted to say this. "That night wasn’t just a one time thing for me, Y/N. I hated that I had to leave the next day especially without talking to you about it. Then I called you and I was too much of a wimp to say anything because like you I was fucking scared. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. Just know that I love you and have done since I first met you."

"I love you too, Kev." You said, leaning up to softly kiss him.

#kevin hayes imagine #kevin hayes x reader #kevin hayes #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

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pucksnsticksnhockeyboys · 4 years

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summer

summary: Travis takes you home to spend a week with his family and you love every minute of it.

warnings: talk of marriage

word count: 2.1k

note: this was so self indulgent, omg, also I saw a video of Travis back home in the off season and it was so adorable I had to write something on it.

The sun warmed your skin as you laid on the front of your boyfriend’s boat. He had tried to convince you to fish with him, but you simply scrunched your nose up and cheered for him when he caught something. Fishing had never been your thing, despite having grown up in a family that regular partook in the activity, so you were more than happy to sunbathe while your boyfriend casted away.

Travis, as much as he wanted to be able to show you the proper way to cast or tie a lure on, loved the way you looked on the front of his boat. To him, it was a way to show you off to everyone on the lake, ‘that’s my girl’ he’d think as a group of passing fishermen would do a double take they saw you. He had no reason to be jealous, you were on his boat, and he was the only one who could hear you sing quietly along to the music playing softly.

As much as he loved being on the ice back in Philadelphia, he felt so at peace with you back at his childhood home. The fact that you took so easily to the relaxed countryside of Canada despite living in Philly for so long had him falling for you even more.

“The fish are in the water, Konency. You promised your family dinner, so you better start catching.” You chirped, dragging him out of his thoughts when you caught him staring. He grinned lazily at you before turning back to his pole, relishing in the moment. You smiled at him, even though he couldn't see it, because you loved seeing how relaxed he was. Back in Philadelphia, he was either training, on his way to train, pregaming, or playing. It was nice to see him not stressed.

“I got the prettiest girl in the whole world on the front of my boat. Could you blame me for not wanting to stare at a fish?” His response was so quick, so charming, and so him you couldn't help the roll of your eyes.

“Flattery will not save you from your brother when you come back with two fish to feed everyone.” You teased, referencing the way his brother Chase had joked that they’d all starve if Travis was the one responsible for catching dinner.

“Nah, he’s a sucker for compliments.” Travis joked. You loved how easy the conversation flowed between the two of you, the perfect mix of sweetness and chirps that had you falling for him even more.

“Must run in the family, ‘cause you’ve got a pretty big ego.” He scoffed at this, and you laughed loudly.

It was that moment Travis decided that your laugh was his favorite sound—not even the sound of the horns after he scores a goal could top it—and he knew then that he wanted to spend the rest of his life trying to make you laugh.

Later that evening, after you had helped his mother cook the fish while the boys set the table, you, Travis, Chase, and his parents sat on the back porch and listened to the sounds of the country night. You sat in a one of the two porch swings with Travis, his arm on the back behind your head and you leaning into him slightly. His parents were in the other, and Chase took up residence in an Adirondack chair.

You were having fun, you always did at the Konecny household. Someone was always making jokes and Travis’ mother told you stories about your boyfriend as a child, some that he really would’ve been able to live with if you hadn't known. But no matter how many embarrassing stories she told you, nothing could change the fact that you were so hopelessly in love with Travis. You were certain that the story of how he crashed his bike when he was seven because he was trying to carrying a fishing pole and tackle box while attempting to hold the handle bars would stay with you forever, but so would the warm summer nights spent with him and his family.

The calmness of the evening could only last so long, and since they were brothers, Travis and Chase began to bicker. You pinched Travis’ side to try and get him to shut up when you heard the exasperated sigh from his mother, but instead took his brother’s bait and continued to argue.

“Shall we?” Travis’ dad asked and it was that moment that you realized he had stood up and was offering his hand to you to dance. You nodded, grinning when you stood up and realized it ended the bickering between the boys. You laughed loudly when Mr. Konecny did some elaborate spin move and you nearly tripped over your own feet.

“Trying to steal my girl, dad?” Travis joked, standing to his feet and opening his arms for you. You moved to Travis, his mom taking your place dancing dramatically with his dad. You and Travis danced so wildly and enthusiastically that by the end of the song he was pulling you into his chest and you both laughed and tried to catch your breath and he pressed a sloppy kiss to your forehead. You hadn't even noticed Chase recording the whole ordeal until later when you watched his story and he posted the video of you dancing with Travis, their parents in the background mimicking your actions with the caption ‘how did I managed to fifth wheel my brother and my parents and brother’ underneath. You had texted him that night, asking him to send you the video. You looked so happy in his arms, and it warmed your heart to see his mom grinning at you in the back.

The next morning found you and Mrs. Konency at the house alone. The boys had gone out fishing early that morning, and by the time you woke up, Travis was already gone. You had made your way to the kitchen to find her plating up some eggs and toast for the both of you to enjoy on the porch. You had thanked her repeatedly, pouring your own cup of coffee and adding the right ingredients before following her outside.

“You make him happy, unbelievably so.” She told you after both plates had been cleared. You beamed at this. It was one thing to see the smile on your boyfriend's face when you walked into the room, but it was another when his mother noticed and told you so.

“He makes me happy, too.” Was your response. But happy wasn't quite the right word. It was so much more than just happy. Travis made you feel like all the problems in the worlds were nothing when you with him. A bad test grade? A hard day at work? None of that followed you around when you were wrapped up in Travis’ arms. Sometimes it was hard watching him fight on the ice or get checked into the boards because you worried for him, but you knew he was tough and you made sure to remind him of that. Being Travis’ girlfriend meant you had to build his ego but remember to knock it down a few pegs every once in a while.

“Do you see a future with him?” She asked, and sipped on her coffee as if it wasn't the most loaded question the mother of your boyfriend could ask. You panicked for a moment, despite knowing your answer.

“Yeah, I do.” You responded earnestly. If anything, spending the past few days with his family reassured you that this was a family you felt welcomed in and would no doubt hesitate to agree if Travis ever asked. Still it felt a little weird telling this to your boyfriend’s mother.

“Do you want to have a winter wedding or a spring?” The question made you choke on your own saliva. You hadn’t pictured your morning turning into wedding planning when you woke up, but like always, you were kind of excited to talk about weddings. You loved them, and even when you dragged a groaning Travis to some of your coworkers weddings, you knew he loved them too.

“Summer, actually.” You answered. At some point or another, every girl that wanted to get married thought about the special day. “I want an indoor ceremony, but for the reception I want there to be like an inside part for the food and drinks and dancing, but also a nice outside area, preferably in the woods with a gazebo for pictures.” Okay, so maybe you thought about your future wedding more than a few times. She just smiled at you, launching into recommendations about what you should do on your big day to make it run smoothly, adding a teasing ‘but nothing ever goes according to plan with these Konecny boys’ that made you laugh loudly.

You had been so caught up in conversation about what the wedding colors would be that you didn't even notice the boys return until Travis was stopped by his mom’s chair.

“What’re you guys taking about?” He asked, looking between the two most important women in his life. You flushed, not really wanting to tell him you had been talking about wedding stuff, his wedding, specifically.

“Your wedding.” Mrs. Konecny said casually and you wanted to die inside for a moment before you saw the grin on Travis’ face. The one that only came out when he was about to cause trouble.

“And I didn't even have to propose, awesome.” He joked and at the same time you kicked your leg out to poke him in the stomach for his comment, his mom swatted his arm in a scolding manner. “You absolutely do have to propose.” She chastised and you giggled at the way he laughed, moving out of his mom’s arm reach and to you, bending down to place a sweet kiss to your lips, one that ended quickly under the gaze of his mother. She didn't disapprove, you knew that, but it was still weird to show affection like that in front of his parents. Even if she had caught the two of you making out the first night.

“So when’s our wedding?” Travis continued to tease as he took the open seat next to you, interlocking your fingers with his. “Because I still have to buy a ring.” You knew he was putting on a show, but you could also hear the seriousness behind everything he said. That meant he planned on a future with you in it, that you would be spending countless more days with him.

“In the summer.” You replied softly, turning to mush under his adoring gaze and it was only made worse when he brushed his lips against your fingers, kissing them gently.

That night, you and Travis were standing in the small guest bathroom, trying to get ready for bed around each other until you gave up, waiting to brush your teeth when he wasn't hogging the sink. Finally, he was done and stepped aside, watching as you applied to toothpaste to you brush and once you had it in your mouth, he was pulling you against him, hands on your hips to hold you in place. You leaned back into him, enjoying being in his presence like you so often did. With his usually crazy hockey schedule, you learned to savor the simple moments of calm domesticity, like the one you were currently in. He was just watching you brush your teeth, something you had done twice a day since as far back as you could remember, yet the look of pure adoration in his eyes had you had your heart melting.

“I meant what I said earlier.” He started, laughing when he saw you in the mirror scrunch your face up in confusion since you couldn't exactly voice it. “That I’m going to buy you a ring.” You spit the toothpaste out, and he waited for you to rinse your mouth before continuing. You spun in his loose grip, placing a hand on his bicep when he tugged you slightly closer.

“You better not be proposing to me in your parents’ bathroom, Konecny.” You warned, a teasing edge to your voice obvious enough to make him smile.

“No, not today. And not in a bathroom.” You laughed, despite the fact that your heart was racing a million miles a minute. You knew he was telling you the truth, that he was planning to spend the rest of his life with you, so there was no need to rush marriage. You knew you had forever with this boy, but you wanted every moment with him slow down so you could take in every bit.

“I’ll be waiting.”

#travis konecny #travis konecny x reader #travis konecny imagine #travis konecny imagines #philadelphia flyers #Philadelphia Flyers imagines #Philadelphia Flyers imagine #hockey #hockey imagine #Hockey imagines

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sincerelyreidburke · 4 years

Text

got hitched

Quick ficlet for my Bencole people. Featuring domestic Quindo. Cross-posted to the ao3 cricket ficlet collection.

eight years after graduation | august

Sebastián is completely unsuspecting, when the Snapchat comes in.

The house is quiet, and he and Quinn are in bed. He figures they’ll actually go to sleep soon, or at least soonish, but for now, they sit up against their pillows, with the light still on. It’s long past Violet’s bedtime; Quinn put her down at least an hour and a half ago, and after sitting out on the patio with him for a bit, Sebastián carried his husband to bed for little to no reason other than he just felt like carrying him.

He’s watching a Coyotes preseason weekly recap on his phone, and next to him, Quinn is knitting. His yarn is royal blue and bright red; he’s working on a scarf he keeps swearing he’s going to mail up to Remy to wear to games when his season starts. To celebrate his contract , Quinn said, when he told Sebastián what he’d be doing, all self-satisfied smiles. I think he could use something new in Montreal colors, don’t you?

His needles clack together every now and then, and the audio on Sebastián’s phone is low, but it’s not like Quinn would be bothered by that anyway, seeing as he took his hearing aids out for the night hours ago. Their house, Sebastián is happily aware, is a safe zone for Quinn, has been since the day they bought it to build their life in together.

A notification buzzes his phone, and the banner at the top tells him he has a Snapchat from Ben. Which isn’t weird, until it is— because what time is it in France right now? It has to be, like, kind of early in the morning, right? In what world is Ben up early on vacation?

He opens Snapchat to investigate. The Snap has been sent into a group chat, but not a new one; it’s one containing himself, Ben, and Quinn, and has to have existed since college even though it hasn’t been used in a short while.

He opens the Snap. It loads. As it loads, he wonders if this is a leftover message from Cole’s show last night. That was, after all, the whole reason Ben crossed the Atlantic Ocean for vacation in the first place. It’s Cole’s first tour outside the US, and Ben and Remy created this whole scheme for Ben to surprise him, which Remy was on board with because he will use literally any excuse to travel to Europe, especially France, and Sebastián has heard about this over several elaborate text exchanges, phone calls, Snapchats, et cetera—

The Snap loads.

Sebastián looks at it.

Wait. Wait . WHAT?

It expires before he can fully process, but he knows what he saw. He scrambles to replay it, leaning forward and off the pillow.

It’s a picture, a selfie, of Ben in bed with Cole wrapped up in his arm. They’re both, like, clothed and everything, and they look all soft and in love, but that’s not the main point of interest.

Because Ben is holding both of their hands up to the camera, and although Cole has had his black engagement ring for upwards of two years, Ben… is also wearing a ring. And Cole is holding a piece of paper. A certificate.

The caption Ben has typed reads: got hitched

Cole is holding a marriage certificate .

Sebastián screenshots the picture before it can disappear again, and then immediately starts tapping-slash-whacking Quinn in the thigh to get his attention. He’s gentle about it, but he still feels bad when Quinn startles and shoots daggers up at him. He drops his needles and signs. What’s wrong?

In lieu of signing a response, he turns the phone to Quinn, because it’s easier than attempting to convey via sign his current stream of consciousness (Ben got married is he kidding how did he just get married in the middle of Paris on a whim oh my God he is going to bust his ass so much but also he’s pissed because he wanted to go to his actual wedding and Ben Shaley Is Actually Fucking Married he can’t believe it like yeah he knew this was coming because he’s been engaged for two years but like— Rho got married !!!!!!!?!??!????!!?!).

Quinn studies the photo, then his eyes widen with realization. In a moment, he shifts from his complete bedtime serenity to animated, excited confusion. He looks up to Sebastián, then back to the phone, then up to him again, and signs, in quick and snappy motions, They eloped? , and then, immediately, Call Ben.

Sebastián nods, as Quinn lunges to the bedside table and grabs his hearing aids. He opens the phone app, and picks Ben out of his favorites, and as it rings, he just sits there vibrating. He can’t believe it. He actually can’t believe it. Ben just went and got married. Like— okay, that’s admittedly the most Ben way he could possibly think to get married, but— is this real life?

Ben picks up on the second ring, as Sebastián is putting the call on speaker. “Helloooooo!” His voice is singsong, like he knows exactly what he did. Which, like, obviously he knows what he did. But Sebastián is still shook —

“ Dude !” he cries, half-laughing, as Quinn leans back over to him and scoots closer on the mattress. “How could you just send that out of context?”

Ben laughs. “In my defense,” he remarks, his voice the picture of chill, “it really doesn’t require that much context, right?”

Quinn fiddles with his ears, and then he must get them turned on, because he chooses that exact moment to cry, “Benjamin Shaley.”

“Mini!” The joy in Ben's voice is indescribable. “I knew you’d bitch me out for this!”

“I cannot believe you,” Quinn says. “You did not elope last night.”

“Oh, but I did,” Ben remarks, every bit the wise-ass he’s always been, and he sounds so happy , and Sebastián is, like, so fucking happy for him right now—

“Rho— congratulations , holy shit,” he tells him. “Did you plan this?”

“No,” Ben laughs. “Not even a little. And I think that’s maybe the best part. Hold on.” There’s rustling and mumbling on his end for a second, and then a fourth voice enters the conversation.

“Good morning, guys.” Cole’s voice is super raspy, like he just woke up. Sebastián tries to do some quick math, but all he can determine about time zones is that it has to be early over there. “Sorry we didn’t tell you.”

“Cole, I can’t believe this,” Quinn says. “How could you let his chaos influence you?”

“Mm.” Cole pauses, contemplatively, and then yawns. “I’ll actually be letting his chaos influence me for the rest of my life, now.”

Quinn takes a deep, therapeutic breath. Sebastián wraps an arm around his shoulders. He has, many times, seen his husband get simultaneously pissed and excited; it’s a hilarious thing to witness. “I love you both,” Quinn says, in a slightly less sharp voice. “And I’m so very happy for you. But words cannot describe how much I wanted to actually attend your wedding.”

“We’re gonna have a party, Q,” Ben replies, like he was ready for this question. “When we get home. Well. Like. Not right when we get home. But we’re gonna start planning it when we get home.”

Quinn pauses, like he’s contemplating this, and in the silence, Cole adds, “It was a spur-of-the-moment decision.”

“Well, I’ll say,” Quinn says. Sebastián thumbs at his shoulder, to soothe the good-natured rage. “My goodness , you two. I should have known you’d get married some crazy way.”

“Tell us the story!” Sebastián adds, because he is extremely eager to know.

Cole lets out a soft laugh. “It’s not a long story,” he says.

“We were at dinner,” Ben explains. “Last night, after the show, with Remy. And Cole just… out of nowhere. He was like, we should get married.”

“ Cole Kolinsky ,” Quinn gasps. “Your mother is going to kill you.”

“She knows!” Cole cries. “She knows. I promise. She’s the only person who knew before you. Her and Remy.”

“Was Rem with you?” Sebastián asks.

“He was with us when we decided to do it,” Ben says. “But not at the town hall.”

“That little shit,” Sebastián cries. “Where is he now?”

“Out galavanting in the streets, I bet,” Ben mutters, and Cole laughs at him.

“I’m sure Remy is asleep,” Cole amends. “We were out so late last night.”

Quinn rubs his temple, leans into Sebastián’s embrace, and whispers, “I cannot believe you two.”

“Oh, you love us, Quinny,” Ben says. “Don’t even try to hide it.”

“Of course I do,” Quinn replies, in that tone so characteristic of him , where he’s firm and kind at the exact same time. “My goodness,” he says. “You’re entirely too much for me.”

Cole laughs again. “I promise, Quinn,” he says, “it’ll be a really good party.”

“Oh, it best be.” The grin on Quinn’s face is so cute, Sebastián could combust. “I have very high standards.”

“Ah, yes,” Ben says, in a posh accent, “nothing but the best for the esteemed Quinny Cooper—”

“ Ben ,” Cole mumbles, and Ben laughs so loud.

“I’m so—” The initial shock has sort of worn off, but Sebastián still feels like he’s processing several things at once. “I’m so happy for you guys, jeez ! Why are you awake so early, anyway? It’s your honeymoon morning!”

“I have to—” Cole breaks his sentence with a yawn, like talking about being up early is making him more tired. “I have to be on my tour bus at eight-thirty.”

“Oh, Cole ,” Quinn whispers. “That’s a real wrench in your morning, huh?”

“Is what it is,” Cole replies.

“Wait, so… what time is it now?” As soon as he mentioned the fact that it’s their honeymoon morning, it started occurring to Sebastián that he and Quinn are… keeping them on the phone. On their first morning as a married couple. He loves his friends to death, but nobody interrupted him and Quinn the morning after they got married. It was just the two of them; even Vi was at Mama’s house for a sleepover. The only thing they had to do was bask in that fresh joy.

“It’s seven,” Ben announces. “Seven-oh-nine.”

“Okay, so,” he says, “I’m gonna, like, hang up the phone now.”

“ Nanny ,” Ben says, with a snort. “We knew you’d want to talk.”

“Yeah, but we talked,” he replies, “and now I’m hanging up so you guys don’t have to, like, talk to us until Cole leaves.”

“Hm.” Ben pauses, and then, in his peak wise-ass tone, remarks, “What if I hang up first?”

“Oh, goodness , you two,” Quinn mumbles, into Sebastián’s shoulder, “don’t get into one of these arguments.”

“Bro, you hang up first.”

“No, you hang up first—”

5,000 miles away, in a hotel bed in Paris, Ben Kolinsky hangs up the phone. He rolls over in bed and grins at his husband. “How did I do?”

Next to him under the nice white sheets, Cole is the best thing he has ever seen. He laughs, with his hand over his face, before he reaches for him. When they meet in the middle of the mattress, Cole presses a kiss to his lips. “You are an idiot,” he whispers.

“Mmm.” Ben kisses him again, and Cole wraps around him, and he thinks there’s absolutely no way heaven could be any better than this. “That’s a title I’ll proudly own, but only with an amendment.”

Cole tangles his fingers in Ben’s hair, long and now sort of messy from sleep, but who gives one single fuck what their hair looks like when they just got married to the love of their life last night. “What’s the amendment?” he asks, between kisses.

“That I’m your idiot.”

“ Oh .” Cole laughs. His eyes wrinkle shut, and Ben is going to be gone on him for the rest of his days. “You’re definitely my idiot.”

“Perfect,” Ben says, and kisses him again, and he doesn’t need anything else.

#ao3 link #ben/cole #quindo #nandoooooooo #mini quinny #rhode island headass #actually he's cole #ficlet #crickets #mel writes

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excelsi-or · 4 years

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26/09/19 - misunderstanding (woozi)

to a boy i love right now

w.c. 1.5k

August 13, 2019

September 26, 2019

“Hey, has Jihoon hyung talked to you lately?” Seungkwan asks as he walks into the kitchen, phone in hand.

She nods. “I talked to him last night before bed. He’s spending a lot of time at the studio for that girl group’s debut.” Before she finishes her orange juice, she asks, “Why?”

Seungkwan looks down at his phone. “I just…”

There’s a bang on the door and then the door bursts open. They both turn, perturbed by the noise, but expecting no one else but Hansol. They’d given him a key since Seungkwan was tired of having to open the door for him.

“We gave you that key so that we didn’t have to be bothered by you,” Seungkwan says. “Not so you could—” Hansol snatches Seungkwan’s phone out of his hand and then drags him into the bedroom.

Unfazed by the abruptness of Hansol’s entrance, she puts her glass into the dishwasher and then packs her bag up for class. She checks the time on her phone and finds a message from Jeonghan.

“She should know!” Seungkwan exclaims, walking out of the bedroom.

“Not like this. Not from us,” Hansol protests.

She opens her messages from Jeonghan, figuring it’s something about his new apartment with Seungcheol. Since the two moved into a new apartment a few blocks away, Jeonghan has been sending plenty of updates. She figures this is no different.

Jeonghan (9:19)

[Img. sent]

What the hELL is thiS?

[Link]

She squints hard at the photo that Jeonghan sent her. It’s taken in the dark, but the lighting from a building’s windows gives off enough light to make out two bodies, one female, one male. The male has a black mask covering half his face, a baseball cap on that covers his hair. The woman looks familiar, but she can’t place her, especially not from this photo.

She slings her bag over her shoulder, about to leave, as she opens the link. Jeonghan must have sent it to clarify. It’s probably idol news; Jeonghan loves stuff like that.

However, when she opens it, the headline does nothing to clarify.

Love in the air?

“Are you sure hyung hasn’t talked to you?” Seungkwan asks, fighting off Hansol’s attempt to stop him.

She chuckles, scrolling through the article. “Yeah, he’s…” Words die on her tongue when she reads the caption underneath the photo: Rookie Kim Jiwoo caught on a late night date with one of her producers.

She turns slightly, a small smirk on her face. “I’m guessing you were trying to tell me about Jihoon’s date with someone who isn’t me?”

Seungkwan and Hansol’s eyes widen. “Noona, it’s probably—” Hansol starts.

“Whatever it is can wait. I have school.” She tucks her phone into her back pocket and bends over to slide her feet into her shoes. When she straightens, she sees the horrified faces of Seungkwan and Hansol. “I’ll be fine. Text you if I panic.” She waves and lets herself out of the apartment. She shakes her head.

“It’s nothing,” she mutters.

And while she’s almost 100% sure it’s nothing and that she’s overreacting, she avoids looking at her phone for the entire day. Any messages sent to her by the boys are ignored. Her friends back home send messages as well; those also go ignored. The only reason she opens her phone is for music and to check if the microbiology lab is open for her to check her test results.

Once she’s done for the day, she finally braves all the messages that have pinged her phone. She reads through the concerned messages from Wonwoo, Seungcheol, and Jeonghan. Hansol and Seungkwan worry that she’s gotten herself run over by a bus and ask her if they can meet between classes. Her friends are all sending her links, demanding to know if it’s true and if she’s okay. How they all recognize Jihoon’s silhouette is astounding. She sends Hansol an “I’m fine” text, and then proceeds to copy and paste it to everyone’s message before she opens Jihoon’s.

Jihoon (10:34)

Gyu woke me up to tell me you might be mad.

I hope you know that it’s not true.

Jihoon (10:47)

Should I be concerned? You’re not answering me.

Jihoon (13:12)

Everyone is telling me you aren’t answering them either.

So I’m not too concerned, but

I hope you aren’t mad at me.

Jihoon (14:08)

Can we talk at least? Do you need me to explain?

I don’t know how to do this.

Jagi, can you answer me?

She starts to text out a response, but stops. Carefully, she crosses campus, chewing her bottom lip as she stares at Jihoon’s messages. It’s almost 4, so he’s likely in the studio. His name taunts her until she presses the tiny phone icon.

The phone hardly rings once before Jihoon’s voice fills her ears.

“You scared me,” he breathes.

She doesn’t answer, unsure what she’s going to say now that he’s there.

“Jagi? Do you want an explanation?”

She exhales, annoyed at herself. “I shouldn’t need one.” The pavement beneath her feet is suddenly very interesting. “I’m being stupid and irrational, but yes, if you have one.”

Jihoon breathes a sigh of relief. His story is detailed. He starts from the beginning, discussing how Jiwoo is part of the rookie group that’s going to debut. He explains how everyone had had time to do their recordings with him, but when he’d gone back through a few of the songs, something had happened to Jiwoo’s audio.

“I don’t know if it was my fault or if something got messed up when I saved it, but I asked her if she could come in and do her parts again. It wound up going really late and Jiwoo insisted that she stay and watch me mix her voice and all that boring studio stuff. When we finished it was like 2:30 and she suggested we go out to eat.”

The longer the story goes, the further her stomach drops, but she says nothing.

“So we went out to this ramen place that’s open late and that picture is probably taken after we ate and I was waiting with her for a cab to take her home.”

She’s quiet for a long time.

“Jagi?”

She’s found herself on a bench along the walkway. People pass by her and she takes a second to process her thoughts, because she doesn’t want to come off angry. “Okay,” she winds up saying.

She can picture Jihoon squinting, trying to figure out what she means. So she elaborates.

“I don’t… I’m not mad at you,” she clarifies.

“Are… are you sure? Because you don’t sound sure.”

“That, I’m sure of,” she promises. “I’m not mad at you and I knew when I saw it that you wouldn’t do that. I’m just… I’m surprised? I don’t know what I feel.”

“Do you want me to come over so we can talk about it in person?” he asks.

She shakes her head, even though she knows he can’t see it. “No, you’re busy. That’s fine.”

“I don’t know if you’re genuinely upset or not,” Jihoon sighs.

“I would tell you,” she insists. “We agreed to be honest.”

“Yes, okay.” That seems to ease the edge in his voice.

She pauses to weed through her thoughts. A couple walks by her, the girl’s arm around her boyfriend’s waist, his arm slung over her shoulders. They’re talking about dinner plans.

“She likes you,” she finally says. “And I don’t want to be mad at her, because you’re fantastic, why wouldn’t she like you?”

Jihoon chuckles. “I think you’re feeling jealously, jagi.”

She lets out a short laugh. “Oh, maybe. It feels weird.”

“I know,” Jihoon snorts. “It’s irrational for me to say ‘don’t be jealous’, so… I love you.”

The tension in her stomach unknots itself at his words. “I love you too.”

“So I can tell everyone that you’re not really pissed at me?”

She hikes her bag over her shoulder and stands. “Yes, you can. Are you coming over tonight?”

“Yeah, Seungkwanie is bugging me about a movie night.”

She smiles, her heart feeling better the longer she talks to him. “Okay, Ji. I’ll talk to you tonight then. Love you.”

“Wait, wait. She likes me?”

“I mean from the story you told me, yeah.”

“Oh.”

She waits for him to say more, but nothing comes. “Love you.”

“So she stayed late because she likes me?”

“Yes.”

“And the ramen?”

“Did she ask you about your ideal type and stuff like that?”

“Yes?”

“She was trying to figure out if you were single. Did you tell her you have a girlfriend?”

“I don’t remember,” Jihoon admits.

She chuckles. “I’m sure it’s fine. See you later. Love you.”

Jihoon hums. “Wait, jagi.”

“What now?” she sighs. After the fiasco that has been the entire day, she’s ready to go to bed.

Jihoon seems to think twice about what he’s going to say. “I love you. I’m sorry for what happened.”

She snorts as she sits down on the bus bench. “Don’t be sorry. I’ll see you.”

Next: October 15, 2019

#woozi imagines #woozi scenarios #lee jihoon scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen #svt #tabilrn

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theories-by-majority-vote · 5 years

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Why Sou's win rate was 0.0%

First to start off: let's discuss the purpose of the first trial Sou experienced. For what reason would the organization give information this vital to a candidate? The reason for that lies in the purpose of the first trial. The death game runs on simulations and the first trial is the key to changing the entirety of the game. For starters, say Sou’s first trial had him do the key room, perhaps him having to rely on someone else to free him. Would that not change how he’d trust others? Say Sara was the one who had to play Russian roulette with two choices, just like one of victim’s first trial? How would that change the game? Simply put, it would change the number of survivors of the game, the survivors themselves and how rest of the game might play out. The first trial is vital to how the games will go. And I do believe that the reasons everyone got the first trials that they did was not by random chance. It was purposeful that everyone experienced what they did. Back to Sou though, under the cut. Note: The analysis in this post is not excusing any of Sou’s behavior but rather giving a possible explanation of why he acted such.

In the beginning of the game we see him wary of revealing his name/ occupation. With Sara’s internal monologue, she assumes him to be timid. Gin’s dialogue commenting on Sou to get a job when he makes it out results in him looking a little distressed, which Sara interprets as this:

[Image Caption: Sara’s thought on Sou Chapter 1.1: (Looks like he’s being crushed under not only the immediate fear, but an uncertain future...)]

Sou is very clearly anxious at this part of the game, the news still incredibly fresh. I would also like to think he wanted to wait til mostly everyone introduced themselves to match his information with theirs, to seem just as innocent. After all it is revealed that in actuality that Sou is Shin and instead of being a job hopping late night convenience store worker, he’s actually self employed, perhaps as a hacker, judging by his computer skills.

In this death game, Sou recreated his identity to keep his walls up, guard up. He distrusts everyone, withheld information, used people, blackmailed people. He did everything for self preservation.

[Image Caption: Sou Speaking in Chapter 1.1: “H... Hey now, I dunno about that... You can’t trust people like that, right?”]

We don’t have data on how the games really played out, not clearly at least . We don’t know how Sou acted in the AI versions of the game, and considering that he did break the monitor with his AI, it seems like that information is deliberately left from us. But I do think it’s very different from the Sou we know in this game, considering he abandoned “himself”.

[Image Caption: Sou Speaking Second Main game Chapter 2.2: “I absolutely can’t survive this Death Game...”]

[Image Caption: Sou Speaking Second Main game Chapter 2.2: “That’s why... I had to abandon “myself"..!!”]

A term as severe as ‘abandon’ would imply there was a drastic change. So the Sou who constantly lie and withholds information, who sees everyone with distrust, isn’t really Sou. It’s natural he became intensely distrustful though, considering he thinks everyone as an enemy. To someone who’s only information is that people are killed by majority vote and his chance of survival is impossible would only consider that he is set up to be killed every time.

[Image Caption: Shin’s thoughts in his flashback: (Everyone will choose me by vote...and kill me...)]

In the first main game, we see Sou snap when everyone puts their trust in Sara. The group as a whole trusts Sara because of her behavior, of how her actions speak for her. She was the only who got them through the Russian roulette, something Sou didn’t see. From Sou’s point of view however, Sara’s trust is fake, because he saw the emails and interpreted as her being with the enemies. Of course he would think that too, considering he was attacked because of him gaining this information. Sou is no fool, but he is also blinded by preconceptions fed to him from the first trial. Sara has the highest percentage of wins after all, she must be deceiving everyone, using them, that could be what is in his mind.

[Image Caption: Sou in the first main game Chapter 1.2: “ Death is just a matter of time for you. That’s the way weaklings live!”]

This line Sou says, when he snaps, is from his anger and frustration of people not realizing that Sara is deceiving them all, because he believed that to be the case, when we the player as well as other characters have an understanding of Sara because of her actions. This reaction from Sou could be targeted at his true self too, perhaps considering it to be weak and as a result the cause of his death.

To Sou, he never survived because he was weak, too trusting, too honest. These words do not describe the current Sou at all, however. Except, we do see glimpses of his kindness in the game, particularly in chapter 2.

[Image Caption: Sara looking at Kanna in Chapter 2.1 and thinking: They’re tears... of salvation.]

He probably is very attuned to emotions and he knows what to say to help or hurt them. Hence why he was able to write something to Kanna that helped her feel free from the guilt of her sisters death. Sou has a soft spot for Kanna, because she is too honest for her own good. She is simply a child who has been hurt so much, and she trusts Sou to be good as well. I can imagine Sou cannot distrust her, nor think of this girl as an enemy. He did something to relieve her of her emotional pain. He did something of the similar extent to Sara, when he created an Ai of Joe just for her, and that final gift to her was what she needed to get past her hallucinations.

Also, one of the biggest character shifts we see in Sou is when escape is most likely, when he successfully hacks into the security system. This is when his fears of being chosen to die has faded away, because you can’t be voted to die if all the survivors simply escape the game.

[Image Caption: Sou speaking to Sara in chapter 2.2 “Ahaha..!! It worked!! It worked, Sara!!”]

Sara points out that Sou seems lively when he is working on the hacking and when he completes and successfully hacks through the security systems, he calls Sara, Sara, not Miss Sara like he usually does. He also seems genuinely happy. He also wants them all to escape *together*. He doesn’t keep this information to himself nor tries to leave ahead of everyone, and instead tells Sara that they all will go together.

Sou could easily have tricked them at this point in time, took the information to make a run for it. If he really only cared about himself he probably would have done so.

All this information on Sou’s true self is necessary to understand his 0.0% survival rate in the simulation games.

In my guess, I think the reason hes never survived the game is because he chose not to. If he died, it was not by the choices of everyone else, but his own choice. He would have acted such that in the end, everyone would have chosen him.

To elaborate on this, I do think that after the first main game, if Sou did survive, he would have done anything it took to make it so one of the people who died would be him, whether it would be by taking the sacrifice card, or convincing everyone to choose him.

Just before the second main game, we get a glimpse of this scene/memory of sorts:

[Image Caption: Sara holding a dying Shin Tsukimi with Q-taro and Mishima in the shot. No dialogue]

Sou is dying, similarly to how he was killed in the second main game. Some things to notice, is that Professor Mishima is there, implying this may be a memory from a simulation. The dialogue in this scene shows concern and worry for Sou, there is not hatred, nor any animosity or indifference to him. From this scene, its clear that he was not hated by, at the very least, the people shown here.

With as little information that we have here of the simulation games, I do find that coming to the conclusion that Sou self sacrificed himself in every game (that he survived the first trial of) to be highly plausible, especially considering his reaction to Kanna trying to self-sacrifice herself in the place of Sou.

[Image Caption: Sou in the second main game Chapter 2.2 to Kanna: “ Don’t be ridiculous, Kanna!!”]

His face is of shock and desperation. It is so incredibly clear that he cares so much about Kanna. If you do choose to kill her, he is beyond mad. He hates that someone chose to sacrifice them self for *him*. Especially someone he cares about.

[Image Caption: Sou in the Kanna’s death Scenario Chapter 2.2: I’ll kill everyone one of you who killed Kanna...!!]

When do kill Sou though, he says, “that’s fine” and accepts that Sara hates him. He accepts the decision because that’s what he wanted. He wanted it so he would die in the place of Kanna.

When it finally came to his death, he didn't curse them or hated them, and instead he accepts his fate. I think it’s at this point, when he is dying, does he realize why he didn’t survive any other time, hence why he says this:

[Image Caption: Sou dying, in Chapter 2.2: “Maybe I should’ve believed... in everyone...”]

Sou, if he had believed in everyone from the start, would only change how everyone perceived him, but not his fate, because to Sou, he could never let anyone die in his place.

To conclude this particularly long theory/analysis, I must bring back the first trial once more. Why did the organization do something like this to Shin Tsukimi? I think it went against the purpose of the game. The game about trust and distrust relies on each person’s opinion of others. And should Sou, sacrifice himself, it no longer is a game on majority vote but rather a single person’s personal decision. The organization had to change this part in Sou, and such, force him to take the drastic decision that resulted in everyone current perception of him.

Thank you everyone who made this far in this theory post!

-Bee

#Yttd #Sou Hiyori #Shin Tsukimi #Your Turn to Die #Kimi ga shine #Yttd Bee Theories #yttd spoilers

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arkus-rhapsode · 4 years

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MHA 280 Discussion: Did Kirishima Steal Mina’s Spotlight?

So, as you can all tell from this title, chapter 280 of My Hero Academia has debuted and has had some “mixed” feedback. Most of it revolving around the instance of Mina seemingly being set up as the person who was going to deliver the final dosage of anesthetic to Gigantomachia, but was instead saved by Kirishima, who actually finished the beast off.

Now as I said, this moment has been mixed, many people like it and see it as a great character opportunity for Kirishima as he finally comes full circle from the first time he froze up meeting Gigantomachia. While others see this as Horikoshi taking a potentially cool female character finally get a spotlight moment but then undermined.

Personally had to sit on this for awhile and think about how I felt about this. Mainly because I thought that this was good, but not sure how to feel about Mina being literally pushed aside. However after sometime I sorta found myself more okay with this.

Now if you want my most raw opinion, I do believe the idea of it at least being Mina’s vial used to put Giganto to sleep by Kirishima was the best possible way to handle this situation Hori wanted to tell. As it doesn’t totally erase Mina as a contributor. However upon revisiting chapter 280 and chapter 279, I believe I came up with a conclusion to my feelings on this moment.

But before I elaborate, I’d like to revisit the end of chapter 279, which built these expectations of Mina getting the big damn spotlight.

If you look at chapter 279′s ending page, it does set up Mina as being important and will likely be the to carry us into the next chapter. However, there is no defining text that indicates that she is the central hope. Mt Lady’s dialogue could apply to any able-bodied UA student at the time. As well as the structure of the page pushes Mina into the bottom.

This is not some big one full page character portrait of the one who will be central hope, but rather Mina is placed in the last panel at the bottom of the page with little narration caption that makes it seem as if she is the most important. In fact, with the way the chapter just seems to end right there, it makes it appear that Mina is more of a convenience.

Now regardless of this, there is no denying that this created an expectation by the audience to see Mina do something. Especially since the honor of a color page was devoted to Mina. Similarly, the last character centric color cover page we got was Miruko the same chapter she was the one to end on shattering Shigaraki’s tube.

And Horikoshi does follow through on this with Mina seemingly focused om as the one so close to doing throwing the vial into Gigantomachia’s mouth.

Even bothering to hone in on Mina’s own internal struggles while thinking of Midnight and then shedding her armor. Only for her to realize who Gigantomachia is and then fold because of previous trauma from the first time the met.

Now we must remember what this means for both Kirishima and Mina. As the two were both present of meeting Gigantomachia as young teens and it left an impression on both. However, if we recall the Kirishima’s flashback, it was Mina who took the initiative to protect people from Gigantomachia while Kirishima couldn’t muster himself to intervene.

But now, its the reverse, Mina is the one unable to follow through while Kirishima is the one to do this.

Now, before I cover what this means for Mina, I want to say that this is good character writing. And essentially rounds out Kirishima’s arc. The villain who was the sole root of him seconded guessing his decision to become a hero is now the person who he is standing up to.

It once again is an example of Horikoshi giving a character, no matter how minor a moment. But the root cause of the discourse on this chapter is the fact this was not a moment for Mina. Regardless if Kirishima was well written, does that make it bad writing when it comes to Mina?

Well as I observed, I think there was an expectation built by the audience, but not one that would seem like they were cheated out of the moment. I do believe we saw a “bait and switch.” People expected it to be Mina only to misdirect you and have it be Kirishima, however, outside of the color page, I can’t really say there was spotlight put on Mina beyond her conveniently being the closest person. And I think that’s where a lot of my issues come with, because I read this week to week.

Now as previously stated, chapter 279 just kind ends. And as I read that last week I was like, “that’s it?” Like it almost seemed a rather odd place to cut it off at. There was no big end cap to this chapter. It almost had felt like that chapters 279 and 280 were actually suppose to be one big chapter. but had a pause put inbetween them.

And when read the two chapters together, they actually flowed much better. Treating it as one big chapter. with the focus going from the group of young heroes to Mina. Which actually is pretty clever as Mina is the one who gives the last bit of interpersonal connection with Momo when she tells her about looking forward to ending this.

And while this definitely made me like Kirishima saving Mina in 280 more, What I mainly drew from this was Mina never really had a spotlight to steal. As melodramatic as that might sound. If this whole excursion between chapter 279 and 280 was anything, it was one big relay race. With the baton passing off to other characters as they all worked to put down Gigantomachia. Everyone contributed, it was just Kirishima who pushed it across the finish line.

Now lets face it, most tend to equate the victory with the one who did finally throw it in rather than the group effort. And from a storytelling perspective, it had to be either Kirishima or Mina, their the only kid characters who would have an emotional victory putting down Gigantomachia. If it was someone like Kaminari, it be cool he stopped the deadly force, but he doesn’t know Gigantomachia. He doesn’t he a personal stake beyond, “big bad villain that I’m obligated to stop.” Which would not be as powerful.

Especially seeing as Gigantomachia as a villain is just this massive force that you can’t just take a couple of characters to fight against him, Hori used everyone in UA. The final “punch” was just delivered by someone who would benefit from a character background standpoint to do some.

But its controversy also lies in the disproportionate amount of times it seems the female heroes don’t get to be superheroic while a bunch of the guys get super cool character driven victories. The biggest example I can think of is during the Yakuza arc where Nejire is the only big 3 to not get a character introspection of what has pushed them to be at the top of UA while most of the female cast fights a character away from most the underground action.

And as I had brought up in a previous post, characters like Momo who are consistently hyped only for them to lose to either prove the enemy stronger or the fact that they’re not ready yet.

Now those are legitimate gripes I can understand why readers would have with chapter 280, but where I disagree with that is, this was not really a singular person’s win. Afterall, this strategy of trapping Giganto was Momo’s idea. Does she get all the credit? Well, no. But she contributed, she mattered. And that is something we got from Mina, as it was still her vial used to put Giganto to sleep.

There wasn’t a “oh look, she was built up only to fail and now a man must do the work.” No there was clearly an effort put forward, just like everyone else. But then you have the fact Mina froze up, now this leaves me interested in where would go from there. As I brought up, Kirishima has essentially gone full circle, that means we could likely see him phased out more in favor of other characters. And the fact that Mina froze has opened up a new possibility to explore.

In my Momo post, I brought up how they’ve now redefined Momo more as a strategist and leader. He strength doesn’t come from her physical prowess on the battlefield like Bakugou, but rather her skill in support. This is an interesting concept that tries to show off a character’ value isn’t just by how many big bads they’ve punched out. Though I completely understand the need to see more female heroes as action girls rather than simply support.

In conclusion, I do not believe that Kirishima stole any spotlight from Mina. As there wasn’t really a spotlight to begin with. However, expectations were generated from the end of 279 and unfortunately the way a week to week format is structured allowed those expectations to grow. Which resulted in 280 having this underlying sense of disappointment for those who had expectations. However, taking both chapters together as a whole, there’s a lot stronger story here, and makes me hope we get that when we get an anime adaptation of this. It would be tough, but talented directors know what to do with multiple chapters worth of material.

This also leaves me optimistic for the future as Mina’s fumble has made something to be explored as well as the potential conclusion to one of the most beloved characters in the series. I guess all we can do is wait and see.

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blueboxesandtrafficcones · 4 years

Text

The Nuptial Necessity - Chapter 3

A 12xRose Human AU

Despite an unglamorous job description, Rose loves the work she does with The Thistle Foundation, a charity founded by her best friend’s great-uncle. It doesn’t hurt that her boss, her friend’s father, is easy on the eyes. With a great job, wonderful friends and a loving family, life couldn’t be better – except for having someone to share it with.

All of that is threatened, though, when the great-uncle dies – and sets a strange condition for his nephew to inherit, jeopardizing the Foundation and Rose’s future, sparking a chain of events that might just get her everything she dreamed of and more.

Chapters will be posted on Saturdays and Tuesdays. Many thanks to my beta, @stupidsatsuma

Rated: Explicit, for eventual smut

@doctorroseprompts

AO3 | Masterlist

—

Malcolm didn’t get a second of sleep that night. After more than an hour tossing and turning in bed, mind racing, he reluctantly reached for his tablet and glasses, turning on the bedside lamp.

A simple Google search turned up hundreds of thousands of articles on inheritance, but none seemed to offer any solutions to receiving the inheritance without meeting the stipulations of the will. He was an old man, perhaps he was going senile? Why would he do this?

He shot off an email to the will executor and solicitor, asking Is it possible he was not in sound mind? Is there a previous version of the will that doesn’t include this marriage requirement?

It was likely a vain hope, but he had to try. Resolving to forget about the marriage idea for the moment, he turned his attention to finding a job posting board. After a few false starts he tried charity administrator openings London, and with a sigh, began reading through the first posting.

No matter what happens, this is going to suck. Thanks a lot, Uncle Wally.

Friday

By the time his alarm went off he was dressed and ready to go, texting Graham to cancel his morning pickup and deciding to take the Underground instead. Pausing just outside the gate and staring up at the townhouse, he realized with a jolt, Everything I have is tied up in the Estate. If I lose this inheritance, I lose everything.

At twenty-seven he’d fled Glasgow before the ink on his divorce papers was dry, bringing Clara to London for a fresh start. His uncle had been kind enough to give him a job working for The Thistle Foundation in the mailroom, and he spent most of the next decade working his way up and earning his keep until Wallace decided to retire, leaving Malcolm in charge. The townhouse went with the Estate, having been owned by the family since shortly after it was built, and he didn’t so much draw a salary from the Foundation as receive a stipend from his uncle.

I’m fifty years old and have almost nothing to my name.

It had always been a given that he would inherit; Wallace had never had children, his only sibling Malcolm’s father, and Malcolm was in effect an only child, his brother having died decades ago. He’d never had to worry about assets, had few personal expenses. To lose the Estate would cost him everything.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

He was so lost in his thoughts he almost missed his stop, barely making it through the doors onto the platform before they closed. Coming up to street-level he looked around, catching sight of the little shop Rose usually got their morning coffees from, only recognizing it by the familiar logo.

Stepping inside, it wasn’t until he was facing the cashier he realized he had no idea what Rose usually ordered. “Erm, hi. I don’t do this, my assistant is usually in here – pretty, blonde, big smile, name of Rose? D’you-”

“Oh, you must be Malcolm!” the girl, Amy, gushed, eyes lighting up. “Of course we know Rose, she’s in here everyday! Oi, Mel, Rose’s regular order, stat!” She turned back to him, finding him blinking at her in surprise. “Always nice to meet a fellow Scot. Rose is great, isn’t she?”

“The absolute best,” he agreed proudly, unsurprised but touched by the impression she obviously left everywhere she went. That’s my gi- that’s Rose. “I’d be hopelessly lost without her.”

“Too right. Anyway, here we are, that’s ten quid,” she passed over two large takeaway cups of coffee and a pastry bag.

Right. Feeling like a moron, entirely out of sorts after first the previous day’s bombshell and then no sleep, he dug out a twenty-pound note and thrust it across the space. “Keep the change. Thanks.”

Picking up the order he made his way to the door, more focused on the drinks than where he was walking, elbowing open the door and slamming right into someone entering. “Shit!” He barely managed to keep hold of everything, coffee sloshing dangerously but only spilling a little, and he looked up to give the person a piece of his mind only to stop dead in surprise. “Oh, fuck me.”

Rose arched one eyebrow in response, a smile flickering over her lips. “I’d rather not get banned from here, if it’s all the same to you, ta.” She plucked one of the cups from his hand, lifting it to her nose before taking a large gulp. “What’re you doing here?”

Stepping out onto the sidewalk they started down the street towards their building, falling naturally into sync.

“I couldn’t sleep, thought I’d come in early. I saw the place, and…” he trailed off, shrugging one shoulder. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” she echoed, rolling her eyes. “Clara stopped by, talked my ear off until half two. Decided to just get a move on.”

The silence was awkward, which only served to annoy him; they had always had a good rapport, after the first six or so months once she had settled into her role. Now, eight years later he considered their partnership to be a well-oiled machine, two halves of a whole despite the on-paper power imbalance.

He held the door for her as they entered their building, nodding to the security guards as they buzzed through. Rose hit the button on the lift for their floor, and they rode up alone.

Malcolm followed her to her desk, watching as she flicked on the lights and shrugged off her coat, vaguely curious to her routine; she typically arrived only a few minutes before him- long enough to be settled and ready to face the day, but recent enough that his coffee was always hot and fresh.

“Oh!” she yelped, turning around to see him leaning on the corner of her desk, watching her. “D’you need something? My computer’s still booting up.”

The words hovered on the tip of his tongue, before he sighed, shoulders slumping. “No, I’m good. Just- oh, you know what you’re doing. I’ll be in my office.” Extracting his muffin from the pastry bag he slunk into his office, falling into his desk chair and turning to gaze listlessly out the window.

What am I supposed to do?

It was, quite frankly, the worst day of Rose’s professional career. Things got done, most of her duties able to be completed on autopilot after so long, but she could muster no spark to put into any of it. No banter. None of her signature Rose Tyler charm.

Her computer dinged and she glanced up from where she was poking at her salad halfheartedly to groan. “Oh, you’ve got to be motherfucking shitting me.”

“Rose Tyler!” Malcolm’s delighted voice made her jump and yelp, “I’m so proud of you. That was almost a proper swear.”

“Missy’s on her way up,” she didn’t even look at him, clicking on the IM box from Mickey, the building’s security guard and one of her oldest friends. It was just an emoji, two wide eyes, but it was their code. “What do you want me to do?”

He sighed heavily. “Fine, I’ll see her. I swear, she must have my office bugged or something.”

The lift dinged, and she raised her eyes to glance at him. He looks like he’s having as rough a day as I am. He’d said he hadn’t slept; had it been for the same reason she hadn’t? No, he was probably thinking about the gala. Of course it was about that, dingbat. “I’ll send her in.”

“Thanks.”

He disappeared back into his office as Missy walked in, and Rose had to bite her lip hard to keep from laughing or rolling her eyes. What did he ever see in her? Missy Tucker was without comparison the most extravagant, eccentric person she’d ever met, and that included all of her mother’s rich society ‘friends’.

“Good afternoon, welcome to The Thistle Foundation, do you have an appointment?” Rose asked sweetly, as the older woman approached her desk.

“I’d like to see my husband, please.” Missy’s smile was just as fake-sweet as Rose’s, as they went through the whole song-and-dance. One of the very first things Rose had been taught on her first day, by both Malcolm and her predecessor Jo, was to stall Missy as long as possible, making enough trouble that she didn’t find it worth it to visit the office.

This is your best friend’s mother, this is your best friend’s mother, this is your best friend’s mother, Rose lectured herself, pretending to stare intently at her screen for a moment. “I can give you a few minutes, but he has a call at one that he can’t miss.”

“Thank you.” And she swept past Rose into Malcolm’s office.

Once the door shut behind her, Rose let loose an undignified snort. Taking a subtle picture with her mobile, she texted it to Clara with the caption Your mum’s here.

Missy Tucker was the subject of ongoing amusement amongst the three; every time she appeared after months of no contact she had an entirely different style, often with a slight tweak to her features suggesting she was a fan of cosmetic surgery. Today her chosen look was that of evil Mary Poppins, complete with a plum-colored ankle-length skirt and matching dress coat, a white dress shirt buttoned to the neck with an elaborate bow, black heeled boots, a delicate hat, and an umbrella Rose would swear was an actual prop from the movie.

She looked ridiculous, and like she would be right at home as the evil orphanage matron in a Victorian version of Annie!

Are you fucking kidding me? Clara pinged back almost immediately. I love my Dad, but God I wish I was adopted. Please tell me I didn’t inherit her fashion sense!

Snickering, Rose shook her head and returned to her work polishing up her resume. At precisely one o’clock she buzzed in on the intercom, using what Clara called her flight attendant voice. “Malcolm, I have that potential donor on line two.”

“Thank you, Miss Tyler.”

A moment later the door opened and Missy stalked out, a murderous expression on her face. “I’ll talk to you soon,” she threatened her ex over her shoulder, ignoring Rose as she stormed towards the lift.

Rose waited until the lift doors closed before rising and entering Malcolm’s office. “So?”

He was lying on his couch with his head back against the cushions, a crystal cut glass of scotch hanging loosely from his hand. “She wants to reconcile, says she’s changed, wants to go back to what we once were.”

“What did you say?” She settled gingerly on the end of the glass coffee table by his head, watching as he opened tired eyes to stare at her.

“That who we were went up in a flaming pile of shit twenty-three years ago when I caught her high in bed with the babysitter on our fifth wedding anniversary. That who we were was a childhood friendship that went too far. That who we were died many, many years ago.”

He looked so sad, Rose’s heart went out to him.

“It’s far, far too late now. A part of me will always miss that, always wonder, but… It’s ancient history. Never mind that this is all because of Wallace’s death and the inheritance. She didn’t say it, but I know her. Anything that even sniffs of money or power and she’s first in line, plotting how to get it.”

“I’m sorry,” Rose offered, giving him a kind smile. “You deserve better than her.”

Sighing, he struggled upright, turning to plant his feet on the ground and set the untouched glass of scotch on the coffee table next to her. “Thanks.”

Their eyes met, and for once, she didn’t blush and look away. Clara’s question from the previous night circled back through her mind, and she let herself actually see him. Ice blue eyes capable of such a coldness shined back, warm and open, something only a privileged few were allowed to see. His strong features could be severe, Clara had once called them attack eyebrows, but when he smiled… his entire face would light up, almost like he was a different person.

She'd always found him attractive, may have had the occasional fantasy involving them, a bottle of wine, and a hot tub, but love?

Her gaze dropped to his lips, and she automatically licked her own. She would be lying if she said she’d never wondered – didn’t everyone, at some point? He drew closer, and she realized that she was leaning in; they were both leaning in. Is this really happening?

Rose’s eyes fluttered closed, her heart pounding, and she could feel his breath against her lips when-

“Dad?”

#bbatcfic #ficandchips #Doctor Who #doctorroseprompts #Human!12xRose #Human!Twelfth Doctor #Rose Tyler #Human AU #AU #The Nuptial Necessity

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