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bakugosbratx · 3 years

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NSFW 18+ The Assistant— AU Levi Ackerman x Fem! Reader

Warning: 18+ Content. Smut, degrading, cursing, punishment, dom levi, sub reader, bondage, bdsm, some angst, toxic relationship, spanking, cheating, etc.

Words: 3, 673

Check out my other works here

A/N: Me and my irl moot @idfkwtfgof came up with this idea so I decided to write it out. Enjoy this fifty shades of gray moment. I’ve been working on this for over a month 🙃 I’m sorry it took me forever.

Tags: @idfkwtfgof @awilddreamerwrites @peachsenpie

You take a deep breath as you approached the double doors in front of you. Your heart pounded against your rib cage. The silent hallways seemed to be echoing the thumps. Anyone in your position would be nervous too if they had to meet with the CEO of the Ackerman Industries. He was not one to enjoy much company nor request it. His gaze alone could intimidate the strongest of people and you are no different.

Fist resting on the wooden door in front of you, you hesitate, but close your eyes and knock anyway. You did not hear a response as you patiently wait. Instead, the door swings open to be met with the CEO himself, Levi Ackerman. Not a word was spoken, but he ushered you inside his huge office.

Scurrying, you slightly jump as you heard the huge door slam. You are in Levi’s office. Only businessmen and women are allowed in here. You feel not even worthy to be stepping on the same floor these successful people walk on. It could also be the fact that the office seemed spotless. For someone as busy as the CEO, he sure did know how to make a stack of papers seem neat in a stack.

“Sit.” Levi instructed as he strolled over to his desk chair and doing the said action. You looked around the room. Behind Levi is a wall of windows to overlook the city of New York. His desk his a beautiful dark brown that was so clean that you could see your reflection. Along with seeing your reflection, you can see —and feel— Levi starring at you. Meeting his silver orbs, you gulp.

“Do you know why I called you in here, Y/N?” Levi questioned, his tone remaining calm as always. Somehow, this intimidated you even more.

“No, sir, I don’t.” You admit. In all honesty, you are not sure why Levi called you into his office. He waited until almost everyone has gone home for the evening to set up this meeting. You have felt nauseous all day about it. Receiving an email from the CEO was enough to make anyone’s breath hitch, but to have a meeting — alone — with him is enough to make one soil themselves.

“I want to offer you a promotion,” Levi explained, his gaze hardening. “That is, if you want it?”

This is way better news than you expected. Levi has employees for a reason. He always calls the shots since it is his million dollar company, but why get his hands dirty when he can pay people to do it for him? Since no one is allowed in his office without special permission, this seemed a bit off.

“What does the job intel?”

“Well, my company is expanding even larger than anticipated this year. I need a personal assistant. Examining the work you have put in over the years, I decided you are cut out for the job. What do you say?”

You take a moment to contemplate his words. The offer is amazing and would definitely look great on your resume, but working so close to the CEO of the company is quite intimidating. Any bad habits you have developed better end swiftly or else it’s your job on the line. Levi is not afraid to terminate anyone not fit for the job.

“I’ll take it.” You smile, the words flowing out before you could even think any further.

“You start tomorrow. I expect you in my office 8am sharp. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re dismissed.”

Standing up, you straighten out your black pencil skirt and head your way towards the door. Levi’s eyes did not once leave your figure. The way you naturally sway your hips as you walk and the way the skirt hugged your hips just right. His eyes are enjoying the desires most men have yet when you turned to look over your shoulder, his eyes where focused on his paperwork.

You went home that night, excited to tell your significant other about your promotion. He did not even blink an eye in your direction. Instead, he is pissed that you are home later than normal.

“Babe—“

“Where the hell have you been?” He hissed.

“I-I was called into the CEO’s office. I got a promotion!” You stammered, nervous under your boyfriend’s glare. He always made you feel small and his anger tends to send you over the edge. This is one of those many times.

“Why would he have you in there this late? Do you think I’m really that fucking stupid?” He scoffed, shaking his head.

“Babe, I’m being serious. I would never lie to you.” You argued.

“And how do I know that?” He countered. “How am I certain that you aren’t cheating on me? Or even hurt? Are your damn thumbs broken, Y/N? Can’t keep me updated ‘bout what’s going on? I was worried sick about you.”

You let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, babe. I’ll do better.”

Your boyfriend walked over to you, embracing your body into a tight hug. You had so much more to say, but to prevent any further escalation of an argument, you apologized and kept your mouth shut.

The next morning arrived. You woke up extra early to have time to do your hair and makeup, dressed in your nicest attire, and wear the most expensive of jewelry. Since you are going to be around the CEO for now on, you cannot show up to work appearing sluggish. You gave yourself one last look in the mirror, your boyfriend leaning against the doorframe.

“Dressed quite nicely, huh?” He spoke, meeting your eyes through the mirror. You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat.

“I have to be.”

He stayed silent for a moment, his orbs tracing your figure. He hated when you showed confidence. It killed him inside and knowing that other men saw your beauty as well made his blood boil. He just has to ruin it.

“For the circus? Your makeup looks awful and your hair is tremendous.” He scoffed.

You bit your bottom lip. Tears welled in your eyes, but you prevented them from falling. You refuse to let him ruin your confidence. You are a strong woman and his insecurities shouldn’t be placed upon you. It is not your baggage to carry.

You meet his eyes again through the mirror. You feel your confidence crumble beneath you, but you remain strong. Turning around, you brush past him as you stroll out of the bathroom. You ignored him calling your name and demanding you to return. All he could do is watch as you left without even saying goodbye.

You arrived to the business earlier than expected. You have checked your hair and makeup more than once in the car review mirror. You are not necessarily even wanting Levi’s approval, — though he is quite handsome — you just want to look presentable. He is your boss, after all. He is not afraid to fire anyone on the spot. You are no exception.

Inhaling a sharp breath, you knock on Levi’s office door. You hear his approval to come inside and welcome yourself inside. You were not even receive a glance as you closed the door behind you. Levi’s gray orbs never left his monitor screen. You gulp nervously as you proceed towards his desk.

“I stopped to get some coffee. I brought you a tea,” you lay his cup on his desk, “just how you like it.”

He nods, still typing away. This did not help your anxiety at all. Is he regretting his decision making you his assistant? Are you disturbing him? Is he contemplating firing you? Your stomach turned at the thought.

The sound of the printer disturbed your nuisance thoughts. Levi grabbed the piece of paper and placed it on top of a neat stack. He stands up, finally looking at you.

“I have a meeting to attend to in an hour. I need these documents assorted in alphabetical order before then.”

Your eyes fall to the tall stack of papers. You definitely need more than an hour to get through them all. By Levi’s facial expression, you knew he was serious. Levi always looked serious.

“Yes, sir,” you grab the stack and meet his a gaze again, “I’ll get it done swiftly.”

“Good. I’m counting on you. Sit over there.” He orders, glancing at the couches and coffee table in the middle of his office. Maybe it is just your nerves, but his workspace seems bigger than remembered. This did not help your anxiety.

You began getting to work. You thought you are doing well on time, but time seemed to have passed you by. Levi is now towering over you, his unsatisfied silver orbs glaring down at you. You hesitate, but force yourself to meet them.

“Thought you said you would have this done?” Levi recalls.

“I-I’m really sorry, s-sir.” You stammered, expecting the worse.

“Sorry doesn’t sort the papers, Y/N.” He scolds, his silver eyes only being shown through slits.

“I—“

“We will discuss this after my meeting. Until then, I want my office spotless.” Levi continues, cutting you off. He begins walking towards the door and pauses once he reaches for the handle. “Oh and Y/N?”

You look up, meeting the CEO’s annoyed orbs. “Yes, sir?”

“You’re on strike one.” Levi warns. You did not even have a chance to ask questions as his office door slams shut behind him, leaving you alone to sulk in your thoughts.

You tidied up Levi’s office like he requested of you. Every paper went into its appropriate home, cushions are straightened out, rug is vacuumed, and you are currently dusting. This man is a clean freak by nature so there was not much to do. Still, your nerves were pulsating. This is only day one and you are not on Levi’s good side. You are becoming worrisome as your job is now potentially on the line.

The door opening made you jump. You can feel Levi’s silver orbs on you as you dust his bookshelf. He did not disturb you, though, as he proceeded towards his desk and went to work like nothing happened. Curiosity is begging you to speak, but you remain silent and complete your task.

You gather the cleaning supplies and place them back into the small closet. Returning on the guest side of Levi’s desk, he does not even look up from his monitor.

“I’m finished cleaning, sir.”

Levi did not say anything. Instead, he stood up and went to the window. His fingers grazed along the exterior which collected dust on the tips. He studied it for a moment. Your heart stopped as your breath hitched. You did not mean to forget the windows, but they look so clean already. They truly do not need much more cleaning.

“Seems like you missed a spot.” He remarks, turning to face you.

“I-I’m so sorry, sir. I thought—“

“Your cleaning is lamentable. Back to dusting. Now.” He demands, cleaning the dust off of his fingers with his handkerchief.

“Yes, sir.” You reply, gathering the cleaning supplies once again. You sprayed the windows and clean every inch of them until lunch time. Levi was sure to inspect your work before releasing you to go get something to eat.

“You’re dismissed.” He finally speaks. You are quick to collect your belongings leave his office. You stroll the long hallway to the elevator. You are finally alone with your thoughts and honestly, they were overwhelming. This job is very nerve racking and it’s only your first day. You are not making the best of impressions on your boss.

Digging in your purse, you check your cellphone. You have several missed calls and texts from your significant other. A pit in your stomach began to drown your appetite. You know this is going to cause a major fight between you two. A fight you did not want to participate in.

Reluctantly, you call your boyfriend back. He picks up on the second ring.

“Where the fuck have you been?” He hissed, sending chills down your spine. The elevator doors open and you head towards the cafeteria.

“Working. I can’t be on my phone while I’m—“

“So work is more important than me?” He interrupts.

“What? No. That’s not it at all.” You argued, picking up a bag of chips and a drink from the dispensers before checking out.

“Then answer my damn calls, Y/N!”

“I can’t when I’m at work!” You exclaimed. You hand the cashier money before mouthing the words ‘thank you.’ She gave you a worried look, but you disregarded it. This is not the first time that have heard a heated conversation between you and your boyfriend.

You go find an empty table to eat by yourself. The bickering between your boyfriend did not end on a good note as the other line went dead. You slammed your phone back into your purse and forced yourself to eat your chips. You did not even want them. Your relationship is falling through the cracks, you are failing at your job, and you are on the verge of losing what is left of your sanity.

Time really slipped away while you fumed in anger because you are now late to returning to Levi’s office. Tears prickled in your eyes. This is not good at all. Levi is going to be furious. Even possibly firing you.

You raced to his office. You did not even take the elevator as it will take far too long to get to his office. You are panting by the time you arrive and sweat droplets formed at the top of your forehead. Your hands began to shake as your hand rested on the handle. You need to go in there, but your body did not want to move. Your boyfriend is already pissed. You did not want to deal with your furious boss.

Sighing, you forced yourself to go inside. “I am so sorry.” You blurt out as you enter inside. Levi is giving you a disapproving look.

“Take a seat, Y/N. We need to have a talk.”

Following your boss’ orders, you sit in the chair parallel to his. You begin to tremble as you expect the worse. Levi’s glare does not help you feel any less uneasy either. His silver orbs are staring deep into your soul and making you feel small.

“You know you’re on strike three.” Levi begins. You gulp.

“I know, sir. I’m very sorry. I’ll accept any punishment you have in mind for me.” You sigh, trying to remain brave. Levi can see right through it, though. His gaze hardens and he makes his way around to your side of the desk. He folds his arms but does not remove his gaze from you once.

“What punishment do you think you deserve?” Levi ask, hoping you have the same answer in mind as him.

“I-I’m not sure. I’ll take anything. It’s what I deserve.” You admit, a flustered feeling coming across you. Levi studied your features, clicking his tongue.

“Bend over the desk.”

“What?” You whispered, not sure if you heard your boss correctly. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. His intimidating glare pierced through you.

“Talking to that lame ass boyfriend of yours must have you goin deaf. I said bend over my desk.” Levi instructs, letting go of your chin once you catch his drift. You do as your told, bending over his desk. You are uncertain what he is planning to do, but the removal of your skirt gave you a pretty good idea. Your cheeks felt hot as your bare ass is now exposed to Levi’s viewing.

“Lace panties, huh? You planned on being put in this position later?” Levi chuckles, his digits playing with the strap of your thong. You bit your bottom lip, not knowing what to say. A hard smack to your bare ass caused you to release a moan.

“I asked you a question. It’s only polite to answer, brat.”

“Yes. It was for my boyfriend.” You confess in embarrassment for more reasons than one.

“Oh, I see. Your toxic little relationship is in need of fixing, but the only thing you have to offer is your pretty little pussy.” Levi analyzes, rubbing his hand on your ass before delivering another slap. You wince in pain, but you mentally screamed for more. You wanted Levi to continue spanking you.

“That’s not it, sir.” You mumbled. His hand landed down on your sore ass once more while the other hand finds refuge in your hair. He pulls it, tightly, bending your head back.

“What really gets me is this mouth of yours. I suggest you use it to tell the truth before I stuff it.” Levi growls lowly in your ear, letting go of your hair to return behind you.

Another slap was delivered. Little melodies of moans escaped your lips that you attempted to conceal. Levi did not comment on it as he proceed with the punishment. Your cunt dripped with your slick. It is begging to be touched, fucked, anything Levi desires really.

A few slaps and a very red ass later, Levi’s digits founder their way inside your soaked cunt. “Someone enjoyed themselves, hm?” He teased, curling his fingers in you. You shuffle a bit, enjoying the sensation he is giving you. The removal of his fingers made you whine in a needy tone.

“I did, Levi. Please fuck me.” You cry, wanting his cock already. He chuckled at your begging, his hand rubbing your red ass then hitting it again.

“On your knees. Now.” Levi demands. You happily oblige before him. He pats your head in approval. “Good girl. You do know how to listen.”

Levi begins unbuckling his black belt. You are practically foaming at the mouth as he slides the leather out of each loop. He sets it on the desk before proceeding to unbuckle his pants, releasing his hard cock for you to pleasure. Your eyes light up at the sight. The tip of his erection is at your lips, ready for you to move forward. Your tongue teases his sensitive head before you let each inch slide in-and-out of your saliva filled mouth.

“Yeah, like that, baby.” Levi praises as you deep throat his length. You choke some, but continue taking all of his cock. Your tongue spends time playing with the veins in his cock while his head relaxes in your throat.

“The cock hungry slut having a hard time deep throating all my cock?” Levi mocks as you pull it out to catch your breath. A string of saliva connected your lips and his cock together as your lust filled orbs met his.

“Not a chance.” You grin, placing his dick back in your mouth. Levi groans in delight as you repeat the same patterns as before. His cock twitches inside your mouth as pre-cum leaks from the tip and down your throat. You gladly swallow it as his cock becomes overwhelmed, releasing his semen onto your tongue. Not a drop was spilled as you milked his cock for all he had to offer.

Pulling away, Levi praises you again. “Such a good little slut you are. Time we give your pussy some attention, huh?”

“Yes, please, sir.” You beg, eagerly. He taps his desk.

“Bend over my desk.” He commands. Following orders, you bend over his desk like before. You arched your back so your ass and pussy is more accessible for Levi. He spreads your legs out more so your weeping cunt is fully exposed. The cold air sent chills down your spine. Levi is already hard again as he stares at your pussy.

Aligning himself, the tip of his cock enters your dripping hole, sliding in perfectly. You moan as he thrust a rough rhythm. His hips slap against your ass and his hands cling onto your hips. You tightly hang onto his desk as he pick up the pace. You sob out pleas for more.

“Better quiet down. Don’t want your coworkers hearing me fuck you like the whore you are now do we?”

You did not even care. You wanted Levi and you wanted him bad. Groans and profanities filled the room from you two as Levi hits all the right spots. You babble incoherent sentences as you start to climax again on Levi’s girth. Your walls clenched on his size and released when he re-enters himself. This does not stop Levi, though, as he chases after his own high.

“Already cumming again, slut?” Levi teases as he is slowly losing himself inside you. He hit your ass again while his dick twitches. “Ask permission next time.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” You cry out, not wanting him to stop. He pulls on your hair again, bending down to whisper in your ear.

“I’m going to fill you up so much that you have to hide it from your boyfriend.”

“Please Levi.” You beg, not even caring anymore. You wanted Levi. You have wanted him for a long time and the feeling is mutual on his end. That is why he hired you, after all.

Levi’s cock could not withstand the pressure anymore. Releasing into the depths of your cunt, he huffs profanities as every drop enters inside of you. You gladly take it as you breathe heavily. He finally pulls out, leaving you a cum filled mess. Giving your ass a gentle tap so you will get up.

“You are dismissed for the day.” Levi grumbled as he situated himself and you did the same. You straightened out your outfit and fixed your hair. You will fix your makeup in the restroom. You proceeded to exit your boss’ office when he called out to you. “Oh, and Y/N?”

“Yes?” You purred, looking over your shoulder.

“Let your boyfriend know you’re my slut now.”

©bakugosbratx

#bratx request #bratx writes #levi ackerman #levi smut #levi ackerman smut #daddy ackerman #snk levi #snk anime #aot smut #aot x reader #aot requests #levi x reader #levi attack on titan #levi x y/n #levi x fem!reader #attack on titan #aot imagines

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burnedbyshoto · 3 years

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the countdown

— A reflection on what New Years mean and a New Years kiss.

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pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: fluff, 2020 year rant kinda idk man

word count: 1,679

a/n: this was supposed to be a drabble, but I don’t know how to shut the fuck up at all. I made It as short as I possibly could, took 5 rewrites. so, take this huzzah. check out the rest of the collab here!

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New Year’s Eve.

It’s a day of endings, a time of reflection, recollection, and remembering.

Time is a finicky thing, convoluted and twisted in ways that people often spend a lifetime trying to understand but can only come to the conclusion that time is memories.

New Year’s Eve is the time to think about what you did in these past three hundred sixty-six days.

Did you have any New Years’ resolutions this year?

Most people are basic, routine, repetitive. It makes sense that the thing most people wish for every year is to make more money, to lose their hated weight, to become more confident, sexier, and to travel the world. Everyone wants some form of weird self-love because we are humans, and humans are so desperately craving to find happiness in life, taking it day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute.

Happiness is weird too.

Happiness is a mixture of chemicals in your brain that controls whether you feel normal or not.

Serotonin, dopamine, endorphins.

A terrific trio that the world always sought to have.

It’s not so easy to have all three; humans are made so weirdly after all. Too many chemical imbalances, receptors, and creators not perfect, and sometimes it’s not even that. It can just be the way the sun shines just too brightly through the cloudy skies, and suddenly that trio is gone.

So, humans consume.

We consume and consume and consume.

This year more than most.

Social interactions are needed to be human, many of us found out this year. You may love four people with all your heart, but going a near entire year with just four people when you’re used to so much more can be challenging, strenuous, exhausting.

But we remember the good things that made us happy this year.

We remember the way that the cold air whipped across our bare faces and the way that huddling up with your friends makes you both warm and cold. Reminisce in the way that the sun shines in deep rich purples and pinks as it breaks through the horizon, a simple, powerful portrait for your eyes only because art will never be seen the same by people who look.

We remember the terrible things this year too. The days were you were an asshole, a jerk, a bitch. How you whined and groaned about nothing. How you were mean for nothing. How you lied and cheated and stole. Admitting to it is one thing, but being able to look back on it is another thing.

You’re human; you have to remind yourself, part of being human is making mistakes. We humans are full of errors from our basic biology, so when you make them, recognize them, and make an effort to be better.

Perfection is not what you should seek, but the betterment of yourself and to others.

We remember the sad, too. Bowed heads as we count the ones we lost this year, tears streaming down your face because they died and because you didn’t get that promotion that you worked tirelessly on. Failure is something we all know of; we all experience it, in the many different shapes it comes in, and yet we are still so easily embarrassed by it.

Failure is okay. You can’t be better or grow to be better without failing once, twice, how many times it takes.

But it is New Year’s Eve, so we try not to think about the latter two; we celebrate the future of a new beginning, not the meaning of the past year.

We celebrate because we humans are selfish, loud, demanding.

We scream to the heavens on this day because fuck the world, we made it to another year, and for that, we demand a celebration.

You know this; you always have.

New Year’s Eve is yet another disgusting, selfish holiday, but you don’t mind it.

You want to be selfish.

You want to see your friends and family on the last day of the year and into the new one and groan loudly when someone exclaims that: ‘wow, y/n, I haven’t seen you in a whole year! Don’t hug me; I haven’t showered since last year!’

It’s stupid to be selfish in this way, but it weirdly comforts you. A weird promise that you might not be doing all too bad in this world, in your life.

But right now, you’re exhausted, so terribly exhausted, you can’t even fight to keep your eyes open.

It’s dark outside. The moon is shining brightly in the vast wide sky, stars barely visible with the city pollution and the great light of the rock in the sky. It’s not a white New Years’ Eve, not this year in Japan at least (a kid with some stupid crazy quirk had actually managed to ban snow for six weeks). In the woods is a house that is large, bright, and warm. There isn’t much going on in the house from the distance, but the closer you near it, the louder the voices become, the more abundant it becomes that there are over twenty loud, near annoying adults who are playing a million drinking games.

Aoyama is hanging on the ceiling, demonstrating how he can get his laser beam to swirl around him like glass art as he spins.

Mina breaks dances on the pool table because someone told her to “break it,” and she might be a bit too drunk to realize what she was doing was not what was asked. Kirishima and Kaminari are stumbling against each other, laughing as they cheer her on, their eyes crossing as they watch the pink girl send ball after ball unintentionally into the holes.

Tsuyu is not surprisingly winning a game of beer pong against Iida. They’re only allowed to use their quirks for this game, and her tongue is better suited for this than Iida’s pipes.

Uraraka is still doing a kegstand, her early proclamations of how her zero-gravity training has made her the keg stand champion seem to be entirely accurate.

Ojiro is currently trying to find a word that rhymes with tail for the Kings Cup game he is playing with Shoji, Tokoyami, Dark Shadow, and Mineta. They’re undoubtedly the drunkest of them all, this is the seventh round of the binge drinking game, and all five of them have yet to tap out.

Kouda is begging Midoriya and Bakugou to stop taking shots as they both pulled the ‘take seven shots’ Jenga piece on the Drunk Jenga set for the third time. They’ve played as a team after being assigned as ‘mates’ in Kings Cup two hours ago. Poor Kouda is not set out to handle these assholes and having a drunk, instigating Sero as his own teammate is not helping in the slightest.

There’s a boom in the kitchen that rattles the windows. Still, no one even flinches as Sato, Hagakure, and Jirou stumble out of the kitchen, their blushes basically radiating light onto the walls as cake mix drench their bodies. Hagakure screams out for their uncaring old class to hear that sonic waves do not cook cake mix.

Momo, who is sitting in a rocking chair, sips her drink smoothly. It’s her eleventh bottle, and the creation quirk holder is barely tipsy; her metabolism was untouched.

And Shouto?

Well, that was easy.

He’s sitting on one of the lover’s seat, his body as upright as he could be, your body flushed to his side as you sleep. Shouto is drinking his own mixed drink that was prepared for him by you, still cool in his right hand. He’s warm, content, and at peace even with the chaos going on behind him. It was normal.

Shouto shifts his gaze over to your sleeping face, his chest warming pleasantly at the sight of your squished cheek and small puffing breathes. How you got so exhausted today was beyond him, he did warn you that daring everyone to start drinking the instant everyone woke up today was going to backfire, and it seems he was correct.

His hand reached for your cheek, his thumb stroking your cheek softly, the warmth of your flesh nipping as his colder fingers. You sighed contently in your sleep.

Chuckling, Shouto rested his head against yours, his heart speeding up quickly when you buried your face even further into his neck. Small smacks of your lips raising goosebumps as you spoke of your content even in your sleep.

By god, did he love you.

“Alright, everyone, please make your way over to the living room! We have one minute till the New Year!” Momo yells above the group's noise, and somehow everyone hears her and makes their way over.

“Aw! Look at y/n-chan! Knocked out like a baby!” Mina coos delightfully, her lips in a pout and her eyes shining brightly as she stumbles onto the armrest by you.

Shouto debates whether he should tell Mina to back off or to agree with her, but it’s far too late for him to decide when numbers begin flashing on the screen.

“FIVE!”

Shouto feels you stirring, your head lifting off his shoulder and your bleary eyes gazing into his. You look tired, sleepy, drunk, and oh so confused.

“Wha’s goin’ on?” you slur to Shouto, voice thick and husky.

“FOUR!”

“Looks like you woke up just in time,” Shouto comments, his fingers swiping at your face, fixing up the slightly ruined makeup. “It’s the countdown.”

“THREE!”

“Oh, good,” you sigh, your arms softly wrapping around Shouto as if he was made of clouds. Shouto laughs at the delirium still trapped in your eyes. “I made it.”

“TWO!”

“Thank you for making this year wonderful,” Shouto sincerely states, his hand setting down his drink and wrapping around your waist, pulling you toward him.

“ONE!”

“Thank you for loving me,” you cheekily sigh, and with the one still painted on the wall, Shouto pushed forward, kissing your chapped, sticky lips as the year ended and the new one began.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

“I’ll always love you.”

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #mha

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arhvste · 4 years

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OIKAWA TOORU - 11:11

- summary - oikawa’s always believed in the 11:11 wish and he wants to make sure you do too - fluff

- an - first fic for olivia week!! this one is kinda long? but i had fun writing it and it made me hella soft :,)

olivia week masterlist

You first laughed even when you found out your boyfriend took the ‘11:11 wish’ urban myth seriously.

He was adamant.

“Call me silly y/n-chan but it really does work!”

“Yeah? I’m sure it does Tooru.”

No matter what, Oikawa never failed to make his 11:11 wish every night and he always shot you a text a couple minutes before trying to convince you to do the same. You’d always laugh and send the same ‘not happening’ text back to him before he’d whine and tell you that you were the one missing out.

Iwaizumi was the other victim of Oikawa’s relentless preachings of the ‘pointless’ ritual before he threatened to block his best friend if he didn’t relax.

You joked that your boyfriend was manifestation motivated and all the good things in his life such as him being made captain of the Aoba Johsai team and featuring in several monthly volleyball articles, spreads and interviews were all because he’d simply manifested them. Another thing was to tease him about how his good looks had come from him using subliminals to which Oikawa adamantly denied and claimed he was “all natural” even though use of subliminals wasn’t technically artificial.

No matter how ridiculous you thought your boyfriend was being, you still couldn't help but think how ridiculously cute he was wittering on about the alignment of stars and how wishes do come true if you believe it enough.

It was a typical Thursday night for you after dragging yourself home from a long day of school. Between being a third year with final exams to worry about, having your own club activities and dating the star boy on the famous boys volleyball team, exhaustion was an understatement of how you felt.

You dropped your bag to your ankles and flopped face first onto your bed, savouring the feeling of the plush cushions and mattress beneath you.

It was already 6PM and you’d only just got in from school. Staying behind with Matsukawa and Hanamakki to ensure they were prepared for their mock exams in the week to come had drained out the last bit of energy you had left.

You felt your phone softly vibrate against the pillow causing you to hum and look up to grab it.

kawa <3 : 5 hours until you need to make your wish !

Softly sighing you unlocked your phone to type out a reply to your wishful boyfriend

y/n-chan : whatever you say tooru <3

Softly smiling to yourself, you stared at the little contact photo above Oikawa’s messages. This boy never failed to make you smile even when he wasn't trying.

Forgetting about your phone, you went about your evening as usual, going through modules you knew would be coming up in the mock exam which were fast approaching, eating dinner and taking a long, warm shower allowing all the stress and weight of the day to cascade off of you and down the drain before hopping online with Kunimi for a few hours just to listen to him vent about how annoying his classmates were and how he couldn't bear to sit through another hour surrounded with bothersome people.

By the time you’d completed all your usual tasks for the night the time was hanging around the 10:46PM mark so you went to check your phone.

Odd.

No text message from Oikawa to tell you to look out the window at the stars to make your wish. Maybe he was busy at the moment.

You left it and went downstairs to grab a glass of water and a sweater you’d left on the sofa.

By the time you’d returned and bid your family a good night, it was 11:01PM and still no message from Oikawa.

You knew you’d always brush off his attempts to convince you to make a wish but had he actually decided to stop sending you reminders? Even though you didn't take them seriously, they still made you smile whenever he’d drop the text you’d become so familiar with.

Frowning at the phone you sighed and dropped it down on your mattress as you sat by your window staring up at the twinkling stars above the town's sky. No wonder Oikawa liked looking up at them so much. The sky was clear and a million twinkling stars were scattered across the sky emitting a soft glowing light from each one. Lost in the beauty the stars held, the sound of something hitting your window brought you out of your trance and made your heart jump. Ready to shout at a rebellious neighbourhood kid, you opened the window only to find your boyfriend in a big hoodie and sweatpants smiling up at you.

“I knew you’d give in eventually, were you about to make your wish?” he offered a warm smile with a teasing tone lingering in his soft voice.

“Ha, you wish!” you teased back grabbing your phone off the bed to check the time.

“Actually, tonight I wish for you to come down and let me take you somewhere, you’re gonna need to be quick though.”

11:05PM.

“Okay, gimme a sec!” You gently shut the window and hastily slipped on some shoes by your bedroom door and grabbed the sweater that actually belonged to Oikawa and throwing it on before quickly slipping down the stairs and through the hall to your front door. Gently shutting the door you turned to immediately be faced with the setter who only smiled and grabbed your hand before pulling you off into the peaceful streets of miyagi.

“Sorry y/n, I’m only rushing you cause we’ve only got a couple minutes left!” The boy tugged at you as you tried to keep up with his long strides as the two of you ran through the grassy patches until you reached the small hill you’d play on back when you were the tender age of 7 years old.

Oikawa pulled you along with him until you reached the top, the two of you huffing and catching your breath before Oikawa pulled out his phone, the screen being the only other light besides the sky above you had.

11:10PM.

“Perfect.” Oikawa sighed before quickly sitting down on the soft grass and pulling you down into his lap. Arms snaked around your waist and you felt your boyfriend rest his chin upon your shoulder as you smiled back at him.

11:11PM

“Go on, make your wish y/n.” He softly whispered looking up at the glimmering stars dusted across the dark night sky.

“Tooru,” you tilted your head up slightly to look up into his glittering eyes as the tiny specks of stars reflected back into his usual honey pooled eyes only making him look a thousand times more ethereal. “Do you know why I don’t usually make an 11:11 wish?”

He hummed and looked down at you with confusion and amusement written across his face. “No, I always just thought it was because you just didn't believe in such myths.”

You shook your head softly before looking back up at the stars only to look back at him.

“It’s because I have everything I’ve ever wanted and I never had to wish for it.”

Oikawa’s eyes gleamed as he lifted your body with ease to turn you to straddle his lap as he faced you.

“Yeah? And just what is everything you’ve ever wanted?”

With a soft sigh, you smiled earnestly at the boy.

“You.”

At that moment, the world was put to a halt. It was just you, Oikawa and the shining stars painted overhead.

Oikawa could feel his cheeks warm, contrasting against the cool temperature the night carried. His heart, full of love for you and thoughts consisting of nothing but you. You’d be the death of him he swore.

Letting his actions talk instead of his words, Oikawa moved his hand against the warm skin of your cheeks, delicately ghosting the pads of his fingers of your cheekbones before moving his face close to yours. Kissing was nothing new to the pair of you, but this kiss was new. Oikawa made sure to pour every ounce of love and adoration he had for you as he softly kissed you, bringing you in closer and wrapping his hand to hold the base of your neck as the other laced his fingers into your own. He could only hope you could feel exactly how he was feeling through the kiss. He never hesitated in telling you just how much he loved you regularly, but Oikawa was a strong believer in the preaching that actions speak louder than words and he was never one to just throw thoughtless words out with all bark and no bite.

He pulled away catching his breath and watched as you caught your own too as you tried to form the right words to say only for him to beat you to it.

“God, I’m so in love with you.” He spoke so softly as if those words were for your ears and your ears only.

You giggled and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before looking back at his loving expression. “You wanna know another reason I don’t need the 11:11 stars to make any wishes?”

He hummed and wrapped his arms securely around you again waiting for you to answer.

“Because you’re my favourite star, and every wish I make, you’re the one who makes it come true.”

As if Oikawa Tooru couldn’t love you anymore than he already did. He had never felt raw and pure emotion for anyone before. You brought out the best in him and loved him for all his good and bad, never holding him against his own flaws and showing him nothing but patience and time, something Oikawa needed to open up to someone. You were someone who had brought out an emotion stronger than love, he couldn't even find the words to describe just how much he loved you. If anyone was the star here it was you.

He sighed and rested his forehead on your shoulder tightening his grip around you even more if that was possible. You exhaled and basked in the warmth he emitted.

“I know you’re not meant to tell anyone what you wished for but, since I have what I’ve wished for, what's the harm in telling you.” Your boyfriend raised his head up to look deep into your eyes which he swore he could stare at forever.

“I’ve wished for you to feel happy when you’re with me, I’ve wished for you to know and feel just how in love I am with you.”

A warm laughter bubbled up in your throat as you flashed Oikawa a bright smile.

“I’ve always wished to get the chance to know what it’s like to be so stupidly and hopelessly in love with someone, you gave me that chance.”

It was true.

The two of you were stupidly and hopelessly in love with each other and Oikawa couldn’t wait to fall in even deeper under the soft night sky as you rested against him, soft mumbles of professions of love exchanged between the two of you just like Oikawa had wished for countless times.

general taglist → @atsumuwoah @bloody-bella @bbymilkbread @miracleboy420 @doggonudez @atsunakaashi @peteunderoos @tsukishimagizzard @saturnfarie @toffees-main @zumisace @boosyboo9206 @totorosleaff

#olivia week ✨#oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #oikawa x you #oikawa scenario #oikawa fluff #oikawa fic

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duchessfics · 4 years

Text

Business and Pleasure Part 3

Billie x Fem!Reader

Warning(s): NSFW, Cunninlingus, Fingering, D/s Dynamics, Some Language

Summary: This is the first time seeing Billie since having sex with her, but how do you navigate your working obligations and your feelings for Billie? And does she even feel the same way or are you expendable?

Word Count: 6210

A/n: Here’s part 3! I have a family gathering so if there’s errors I’m sorry! I’m trying to post this really fast. 😬 This one is less fluffy, but I still think it’s not too angsty. Definitely not as angsty as A Lasting Mark pt. 4. 😅 I hope you enjoy!

Part 2

After having Saturday off, on Sunday morning you wake up at 7:00 in the morning to get ready for the day and find yourself putting a little more effort into your makeup and hair. It’s not that you didn’t before, but it feels different when you see a person who you like and realize the feelings are reciprocated.

By 8:00 you’re out the door and driving over to Billie’s house. However, on the way there you stop at a nearby Starbucks to get her usual order: a grande nitro cold brew in a venti cup with two shots of espresso, two pumps hazelnut syrup, one pump vanilla syrup, a splash of almond milk, and a light sprinkling of cinnamon on top. You just order an iced coffee with an extra shot of espresso to keep you going. But you’re not finished yet.

Next you drive to McDonalds and buy the medium’s guilty pleasure: a sausage biscuit with hash browns. There weren’t many details in the NDA you signed when hired by Billie, but one of them was not disclosing her favorite breakfast choice or how much she ate it.

After purchasing the items, you speed over to the medium’s house so the items are fresh and before you get out of the car, you put the sausage biscuit and hash browns into a Starbucks bag you specifically requested to partially conceal her meal of choice, leaving the discarded fast food bag in your car. Because you’re working today, you let yourself in and hear Billie speaking from the nearby sunroom.

So you walk to the room that’s always so sunny and warm because of the expansive windows that span from floor to ceiling along the length of one of the walls. This is one of your favorite rooms in Billie’s home because you can see her polished backyard and it never fails to impress anyone who sees this gorgeous view, including yourself.

Billie sits in one of her cushioned chairs facing the windows so the natural light illuminates her face while one person does her makeup and another person fixes her hair. When she sees you walking in, a smile forms on her lips making your cheeks warm.

Fuck. Keep cool. Just like you practiced: calm, cool and collected.

“Morning, sweetheart.” She greets you. You give her a smile back but try not to act out of the ordinary since there’s others around. It’s not like the stylists take much notice. They’re used to you being around and are busy working on Billie. But honestly…you want to tread carefully. You sport a polite smile when you reply, “Good morning, Miss Howard. I got a small breakfast for you.” Then you hand her the coffee and paper bag with her food items.

That makes her eyes light up and she tells you, “Thank you.” letting her fingers linger on yours for a second longer than necessary. Before you can get too flustered you back up take out your legal pad filled with notes from your tote bag and say, “While you eat and get your hair and makeup done, I can tell you what to expect for the interview.” After finishing your sentence, you glance up and she says, “Go on.” Waving her hand as an emphasis.

You look to your notes and try to hide how your hands tremble in nerves. It feels like it’s your first day with her all over again. Then you clear your throat and begin, “The person interviewing you will be Robin Harker. She works in the television and film section of the New York Times and has interviewed Jennifer Aniston and Chris Evans in the past year.”

You venture to look up again and her response is to nod you on with a casual smile while throwing her hash brown packet in the bag.

What did you expect? For her to drop everything and proclaim her love for you? Get real. This is Hollywood.

So you continue with your notes, “I read through those interviews to get an idea of what to expect for questions and came up with some possibilities.”

“In both interviews she asked about how they got started and I’m sure she’ll ask you too. A couple ideas for responses are to explain the first time you saw an apparition and what that felt like. Or you could explain what inspired you to start a TV show documenting something so intimate. Those reading won’t be interested in the production details of a tv show. Something that will keep their attention is reading about the phenomenon of capturing the paranormal on camera. Sensory terms always keep people interested.

“I would also expect a question about what a typical day on you tv show is like. People will want to know things like if you see ghosts every day, how you prepare and protect yourself, and what happens after the cameras shut off. Basically, how you decompress. My suggestion would be to use more general terms. Crystals and stones are very popular at the moment so you could mention that. On the other hand, I would stay away from talking about essential oils, perhaps choosing incense or sage instead. There could also be a certain tea you drink or a bath product you use.

“I don’t mean to repeat myself, but the key is incorporating the five senses. For example, with your white light of protection you could explain how that feels both physically and mentally. Maybe you feel an electricity to it. The reader wants to feel a special connection and resonate with your words. The happy middle is sounding exclusive enough to stand out, but also relatable.”

You pause for a moment, knowing this is a lot. But this time you don’t look up before speaking,

“I promise I’m almost done. The final thing I would expect is a question about the validity of communicating with the paranormal. Rather than trying to reason with science, it will be more effective to take the angle of how much we don’t know. And how the concept of communicating with ancestors or non-human beings is not new and has been around that for thousands if not millions of years. You’re just using the tools available in the 21st century to provide insight and more information.

“There is also a chance that she’ll mention the influx of phony mediums out to make money on people’s grief. But if you bring up the large amount of people who claim to be doctors, psychologists, lawyers, and other professionals and base their knowledge off of google searches it should be sufficient. You can also remind her that viewers can take as much or as little as they want from the show. But don’t put it on them too much. People don’t like being blamed even if it’s the truth.”

You take a deep breath and pause a moment before slowly asking, “Does that make sense?” When you look up from your notes her face is partially obscured by the make up artist applying finishing touches. But she hesitantly replies, “I think so.” You back up a little to keep out of the way and assure her, “In case you forget something, I put the basics of what I said on a couple of post-it notes.”

Right away the medium lets out a sigh of relief and tells you, “Oh, thank you, sweetheart.” Your body warms at the praise and you’re glad you don’t have to look at her directly in this moment. Instead you calmly reply, “You’re welcome. I’ll plug in an extension cord with your charger so there won’t be a risk of your computer shutting down. And I’ll set up the post-it notes so you’ll be ready to go.”

When you begin to walk away, you hear Billie praise, “You really are an angel.” You smile and look back to thank her. However, it feels like a punch to your gut when you see she looks at her reflection and speaks to the makeup artist.

Shit. That hurt more than it should. You should’ve never done anything. There’s a reason for professional boundaries.

Before anyone can take notice, you step over to the formal sitting room that’s set up to look casual without being used.

Fortunately, the laptop and table are already set up so you begin your search for an extension cord, a sun filter to make her look well-lit, her wireless headphones, a box of tissues, and a water bottle. Finding all of those items is a job in itself. Then you start to set up, placing the laptop so it’s able to keep connected to the charging cable and you use the laptop’s camera on yourself to find the best angle.

It’s much quicker to complete the tasks of setting the water bottle and tissue box nearby but out of frame. Next you place the sticky notes along the top border of her laptop screen, but not obscuring the camera. So if she needs to reference them, she won’t have to look down.

Finally, you position the filter and set her fully charged wireless ear buds that are still in their case right beside the laptop’s keyboard. Once you’re finished you stand back to admire the set-up, feeling proud of yourself.

You may have screwed up in fucking your boss, but you’re a damn good assistant.

“Well look at this.”

You whip around and hate the fact that your heart flutters when you hear Billie’s voice. This time she’s alone and saunters up to you with a familiar smirk. Before you can make direct eye contact with her eyes and melt into a puddle of affection, you back up and gesture to the table while saying, “I think this should be everything you need.” She looks to the table and lets out a satisfied hum, but quickly returns her gaze to yours before purring, “I don’t know what I’d do without you, y/n.”

Then she moves to take your hand, but in your panic and self-preservation you back away, stammering, “I-I actually need to make a couple phone calls. And emails. Plus, I-I wouldn’t want to mess up your make up.”

For the first time you actually see her suave expression crack and you feel horrible right away. You know she needs to go into this interview feeling good, so you take both of her hands with your own and soothe, “I’m sorry, Billie. I didn’t mean to come off harsh. After this I’ll have lunch all ready for us to eat.”

Her lips return a half smile, but her brown eyes still flicker with doubt. So you continue and genuinely mean it when you say, “I know you’ll knock this interview out of the park. She’ll love you.” Then you place a light kiss to her cheek, taking care to not disrupt her makeup.

By now her confident demeanor is restored and you ask, “Do you need anything else before the interview?” She smirks and lowly teases while squeezing your hands, “I can think of a couple things, but we wouldn’t have the time.” You roll your eyes at the comment, but smile and ask, “Well would you like anything specific for lunch?”

Billie pauses for a moment before answering, “I’ll take some…Mexican food. I’ll say a taco salad.” You nod and tell her, “One taco salad will be out there for you when you’re done.” Then you release her hands and say, “I have your phone so there won’t be any interruptions, but if you need anything at all I have your messages set up on your laptop. And I told housekeeping to not do anything too loud or come around to clean this part of the house for the next two hours. So you should be good to go.”

Her eyebrows raise and she comments, “You’ve really thought about everything, haven’t you?” The compliment makes you look down and stammer, “Well I—I try to.” She chuckles at your bashful demeanor and murmurs, “I should thank you for getting all of this ready for me, sweetheart.”

You dare to look at her face and reply, “I’m just doing my job. But I’m glad you’re happy with it. I’ll see you at lunch.” Then you wish her luck one more time before walking out. After closing the door, you lean back against it, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath to re-center yourself.

Stop overthinking this. Pull yourself together and move on. You can look for another client after these two weeks. That’s it and you can make it two weeks. You’ve got this. You can handle anything for two weeks…

An hour and a half later Billie enters the kitchen to see you setting up her requested lunch with a freshly made strawberry lemonade to drink. She struts over and takes a seat at the island while saying, “Thank god. I’m starving.” You smile at her hyperbolic statement and watch her begin to eat. Then you return to your seat at the island next to the blonde to finish the remnants of your burrito.

Not wanting to stir up anything between you two, you ask, “Did the interview go alright?” She nods and replies after swallowing her bite, “It went exactly as your notes said. Of course there were some additional questions, but they were manageable.” Then the medium turns to face you and teases with grin, “It’s almost like you know what you’re doing.”

Your cheeks warm at the compliment and you look down to your plate, resting your chin on one of your hands as you twirl your fork in the remnants and murmur, “I only write down some tips. It’s your charisma that makes it good.” Billie chuckles and comments, “We make a good team.” For a moment you still your movements and glance at her out of the corner of your eye. But she’s looking to her salad. However, her gaze meets yours and she compliments, “Your hair and makeup look good today, sweetheart.”

She noticed. Billie Dean Howard noticed.

You can’t contain your smile but look back down to your plate before meekly saying, “Thank you.”

Billie continues to eat her meal while you throw away your takeout plate and utensils. Then you empty the clean dishes out of the dishwasher. However she breaks the silence by asking, “Did anything come up while I was in the interview?” You shake your head, finishing up as you respond, “Nothing for you to worry about. Just some requests for you to promote different products or companies.”

So she picks up her halfway finished beverage and tells you, “In that case I’m going to start packing things. But I’ll have my phone on me if you need me.” You automatically nod and try to conceal the crack in your voice when you reply, “Of course. And don’t worry about your trash. I’ve got it covered.” The blonde gives you her devastating smile and purrs, “You’re the best.” The butterflies in your stomach make a reappearance and you shyly tell her thank you before she steps out of the room.

After making sure she’s gone you let out a breath and lose the façade of being perfectly okay with everything. You try not to take it personally, but her distance affects your replies to phone calls and emails you respond to. Of course, you don’t sound upset or disgruntled. You remain professional, but don’t have the zeal and passion you usually have.

By late afternoon, you’ve contacted everyone who contacted you on her behalf. So you go onto google and search for PA openings. If nothing else you can leave at the height of her tv premier and make a clean break. However, before you can get to the second page, Billie texts you, “Could you come upstairs to my bedroom for a minute?”

Knowing her needs are your first priority, you exit out of the website and quickly reply, “Of course. Headed there now.” Then you trudge up the stairs, trying not to have any expectations.

When you enter her bedroom, she has numerous different clothing items laid out on the bed and you hear her rustling around in her massive closet that’s a room in itself. But she must hear you enter because she walks into the main room and says with a smile, “Y/n, just who I wanted to see.”

She sets the clothes that were draped over her arm onto the bed as she says, “I need some advice.” You step a little closer and reply, “I’ll try to help.” So she holds up one hanger that holds a silky, floral blouse and another that has a simple ivory undershirt with a dusty pink cardigan over it. Then she looks to you and asks, “Which one do you think looks better?”

You bite your lip and look between the tops, hoping this isn’t a test. Then you slowly answer, “I think they both look good…but the cardigan and shirt would be more conducive to the cooler temperatures in New York.” Billie grins and takes your advice right away, setting it next to her suitcase, however you hold up your hands and tell her, “Wait, I’m no fashion expert or anything. I can call your stylist to come over.”

The blonde chuckles and purrs, “Sweetheart, the only opinion I care about is yours. Now help me out with these other shirt options.”

The choices start off innocent enough, but soon she’s having you choose her sleepwear and intimates. While the whole thing feels a little arousing, you keep to the other side of her California king bed trying to be extra cautious. But she foils that plan by suggesting, “How about I try these dresses on and you can tell me which one looks better.” That makes you pause, but you can’t deny your curiosity to see her after she’s seen all of you.

And if she really didn’t want you to see her, she could change in her bathroom or closet.

So you nod and rasp with your suddenly dry throat, “Ok.” But her smile grows, and she asks in a voice dripping with innocence, “Y/n, would you be a dear and unzip me?”

You know exactly what she’s doing. But are you really upset? You’re finally getting what you’ve wanted since this morning.

At this point your throat feels too dry to speak so you dumbly nod and walk over to her side.

The medium’s eyes sparkle in lust and mischief when she purrs, “Thank you, sweetheart.” Then she turns so her back is to you and you walk up, feeling like you’re in a trance as so many emotions run through you at once.

The first thing you do is gather her silky smooth hair in your hand and drape it over one of her shoulders so most of it is out of the way, save for a few stray curls. Immediately her jasmine perfume envelops you and she doesn’t miss your deep inhale of the intoxicatingly sweet fragrance. Then your trembling fingers come up to the top of her dress and you take the zipper between your thumb and pointer finger, struggling to keep a grip of it with your shaky hands.

The room is quiet enough to hear the zipper slide down the back of her dress, stopping at the small of her back. You look to the well-endowed swell of her ass but flick your eyes up before she can catch you.

Billie twists her head to look back at you and once again your faces are inches apart from each other. Rather than saying anything, she leans towards you with hooded eyes and presses a light, questioning kiss. Then her eyes look to see your reaction and you reciprocate, slowly brushing your lips against hers.

Both of you move slowly while Billie fully turns around to face you and places her hands on the small of your back. The way you both take your time cautiously opening up to each other makes it seem like it’s your first kiss. But it feels nice to slow down and savor the moment.

This time when you smooth your hands up the exposed skin of her back she doesn’t protest. Rather she presses up against your body even more to get closer. So you work on the clasp of her bra and somehow undo on the first try.

Your lips part from each other and she helps you shrug off her dress and bra so the only items she wears are her panties and her pearl necklace. You pause and look over every part, trying to take in every detail. Meanwhile the blonde just smiles and tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear while crooning, “You like what you see, sweetheart?” Your eyes scan up her toned middle, briefly pausing at her rounded, perky breasts, before ascending past the string of pearls on her neck to her proud face.

You’re practically drooling when you whimper, “Yes. Billie you look…god you look perfect.” Her cheeks threaten to turn red while her smile expands and she murmurs, “Just like you do.”

Automatically you shake your head and look down so your hair falls forward to guard your face. But her hands cup your face and guide you to look back at her. Her palms feel smooth against the sides of your face when she kisses your lips and affirms, “You are perfect, honey. Now, how about you make yourself more comfortable and take off those clothes for me.”

In the far reaches of your mind, the thought of confronting her about everything passes through. But Billie Dean Howard is here, completely exposed to you and you don’t want to stop.

Your eyes flick down and you grin as you reply, “O-ok.” So she backs up to let you pull off your shirt and bra. But when you move close, she places a finger on your sternum in the valley between your breasts and says, “Ah, ah, ah, pants too.” You bite your lip to conceal your demure smile, ducking your head as you tug your pants down. After kicking them aside you come back up to the medium and being to kiss her again.

While it felt nice to kiss Billie the other day, actually feeling her flesh brush and meld against yours makes it even better. Every time you think you’ve peaked; she takes you higher than before. When you break to catch your breath, Billie breathes, “Where do you want me, sweetheart?”

Your brows furrow and she grins before asking the same question. The thought of ordering her around sends a thrill through you and you look around the room before hesitantly saying, “On the edge of the bed.” The medium nods and playfully answers with a wicked grin, “Yes, mistress.”

Now that makes you laugh and tell her, “If anyone is a mistress it’s you.” You move her clothes that were laid out on the bed to the side so they won’t get in the way and the blonde helps while teasing, “I’ll grant you the title of mistress for one day.”

Without thinking you roll your eyes at the supposed ‘generosity,’ making Billie raise her eyebrow and say, “Unless you don’t want to do this?” You place your hands on her shoulders and push her to sit on the bed while quickly answering, “I do!”

Your intense reaction makes her chuckle and purr, “Well your wish is my command, sweetheart.” Your body simmers with arousal and you guide her legs apart enough to step between them. Then you look down at Billie’s face and your hands come up to cup her face. In response she slides her hands up to rest on the swell of your hips.

However, you raise your eyebrow and mimic her when you ask, “Did I give you permission to touch me?” Billie takes her hands away and looks up to you through her long lashes when she says, “Sorry, mistress.” Letting her lower lip jut out enough to give a perfect pout before biting down on it. The way she worries her lower lip drives you wild.

But you want to tease her more. Why not take this opportunity all the way?

So you lean in to kiss her lips, but when she leans up to meet you, you back up to kiss the tip of her nose.

Her darkened eyes glow and the blonde chuckles before murmuring, “Such a tease, y/n.” That makes you giggle and this time when you lean down to kiss her, you meet her desired location. And even though your lips and tongues intertwine with each other, Billie stays true to her word and lets you lead her along. So you keep going, and don’t move her hands back when she smooths them up your thighs and pulls you closer to her after gripping your hips.

For once she’s the one who gasps for air and you take the opportunity to place slow, deliberate kisses along her jawline down to her neck. Your lips gently kiss and suck at the delicate skin of her neck, but pause when Billie moans, “Don’t get me wrong, sweetheart, this feels amazing. But I don’t know if the makeup artist will appreciate having to cover multiple hickeys for filming tomorrow.”

On no. You completely forgot about that.

You automatically back up and stammer, “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, Billie. I never even though about that.” She silences you with a kiss and soothes, “It’s ok, sweetheart.” But the medium can tell you’re pulled out of the immersion so her thumbs brush along the swell of your hips and she purrs with a smile, “Now what do you want me to do, mistress?”

Her reassuring smile makes you smile and respond, “Stay.” Then you gently kiss down her neck to her collarbone. Along the way your lips brush against her pearl necklace, but when she moves to take it off you command, “No.” Her eyebrows raise, but she grins and answers, “Yes mistress.” Those words send shivers down your spine and by the low hum of amusement emitted from her throat you can tell she knows.

Then you resume your descent starting at her collarbones down to the swell of her luscious breasts. The medium gasps when you take one of her nipples in your mouth and tease her by sucking and nibbling at her sensitive bud. You look up to her face to see she closely watches you use your mouth on her one nipple while you tease the other with your fingers.

Then you switch sides and by the time you’re finished with her buds they are peaked and stiff. The sound of breathy moans and whimpers is unfamiliar to your ears, but progressively gets louder when you continue down to her navel. After teasing it with your tongue enough to make her gasp, you back up and pull off her lacy, cream-colored thong.

Once the garment is cast aside you take a moment to look at her most intimate area practically dripping with arousal. Then you look up to Billie with wide eyes and your mouth slightly gaped in shock. Before you can ask, she smiles and croons, “That’s all for you, baby.”

That’s all you. She gets that aroused because of you.

Your eyes gloss over with a concoction of happiness and unbridled lust and rather than taking the time to instruct, you grasp her legs and place them over your shoulders. Then you lean close and inhale her sweetness before delving your tongue into her velvety folds.

Her muscled calves flex against your back and she moans, “Oh god.” as your mouth sucks and licks at every part of her. But she lets out a guttural moan when you find her clit. Her low sounds of pleasure go straight to your own soaked pussy and you can’t help but squeeze your thighs in need. You look up to her face while you continue to tease her sensitive pearl and see she watches you with lust-blown eyes and her lower lip worried between her teeth.

You grin and back away before taunting, “Now don’t hold back, Billie. I want to hear all of those pretty little sounds you make.” That makes the blonde toss her head back in laughter before breathily praising, “Wow, you’re pretty good at this whole dominatrix role.” Even now her praise drives you wild. You grin up at her and reply, “I learned from the best.” Before diving back in.

This time her head falls back for an entirely different reason and she groans, “Fuck, sweetheart, that feels so good.” Her words make your stomach warm in arousal and you increase your movements driven by her praises in words and moans of pleasure.

Before long Billie crosses her ankles behind your back, effectively pulling you close to her pussy and unable to back up like before. But you couldn’t care less. Eating her out feels like everything you want and more. Your mouth mercilessly sucks and nips at her sensitive nub and she whimpers in a higher tone than even her regular tone, “Just like that, baby. I’m almost there.”

You happily listen to her request and within a minute her legs lock up, keeping you in a vice-like grip while she gasps. Then she cries out and unravels before your eyes, moaning and whimpering in a way that sounds like music to your ears while you lick up all of the sweet nectar she provides.

Before you get the chance to rile her up, she takes her legs off of you and scoots further back on the bed as she breathes, “C’mere sweetheart.” You whine at leaving her sweet core but listen and she guides you to straddle her lap so you face each other again.

You cross your legs behind the blonde so your ankles rest against the small of her back and wrap your arms around her neck before dipping your head to kiss Billie’s lips. She smiles against you and slides her hands up your back while kissing back, not afraid of getting a taste of herself. Even though you wished to remain buried in the juncture of her thighs a moment ago, being held close in her embrace as she takes your breath away is nowhere near a downgrade.

When you pause to catch your breath, you still keep your forehead down against hers and ask, “I take it you liked it?” She gives that warm chuckle that feels like an embrace in itself and purrs, “Oh I loved it, sweetheart.” Then you let out a squeak of surprise at her hand sliding beneath the elastic band of your panties.

How did she sneak her hand around to your front without you even noticing?

Your small sound causes her to smirk and she says with a dramatically innocent voice, “Let’s see how you’re doing.” And that smirk on her lips morphs into a shit-eating grin when her fingers slide down to find your core practically dripping with slick.

Your hips roll of their own accord when the pads of her two fingers brush against your clit. The instinctual reaction prompts Billie’s eyebrows to raise and she begins to make torturously slow circles over your sensitive bud. Meanwhile your arms shift so your hands can grip her shoulders while whimpering, “I’m not going to last long.”

The blonde giggles at your claim and leans up to kiss your lips, gradually moving her hand faster. Then she gets closer so she’s right beside your ear when she murmurs, ‘Are you all worked up from telling me what to do?”

Oh, you are definitely not going to last long at all.

A gasp leaves your lips and you shift in her lap responding, “Yes.” Now she moves her fingers in a steady motion and purrs, “But I think you liked something else too. I think you liked licking my pussy until I came. Is that what’s got you all hot and bothered, sweetheart? Acting so dirty and eating me out has you nearly creaming yourself?”

Her words prompt you to cry out, “Oh god, yes!” squeezing her shoulders and letting your head fall forward.

Her pearls feel cool against your perspiring forehead and her fingers speed up to the point of making you get those pre-orgasm twitches as Billie taunts, “Are you gonna cum, y/n?” Your eyes slam shut and you moan, “Yes!”

However somewhere in the recesses of your mind you remember her comment about good girls and whip your head up to look at Billie before blurting out, “Wait! I mean, can I please cum Billie?” The golden flecks in her darkened orbs spark in approval and with a satisfied smirk she responds, “Good girl. Go ahead and cum for me, baby.”

Your eyes slam shut just before a burst of white light shows up and you desperately cling to the medium, toes curling as high-pitched moans and whimpers fall out of you.

This time your aftershocks pass sooner and when she withdraws her two coated fingers you watch her languidly suck off any remnants of your juices. You’re still in a daze when she asks, “Do you wanna know what you taste like?”

Your brows furrow, but…you can’t deny that you are a little curious. And Billie had no problem indulging in herself. So you nod, albeit hesitantly. She chuckles at your timid behavior and teases, “I promise it’s good.” Then she takes your chin by her thumb and index finger to tilt your head down to meet her lips.

The taste has a tangy bite to it but also a subtle sweetness similar to the blonde, but not quite the same. Before you even realize it, your tongues are tangling with each other and your lips search and press for one another.

It feels so nice to be so close to Billie without all of the glitz and glamour. You’re together, unguarded, and sharing a passionate exchange for both parties. All that has stock in the world is you and her. However, eventually you have to breathe.

So you reluctantly break from her lips and come closer to tuck your head into the crook of her neck. At the same time your hands move to her back so you can hug her close. Her lips come down to rest on the crown of your head and you feel her lips curve into a smile. Then she shifts so her cheek rests against you, softly teasing, “I still need to try those dresses on.”

However she makes no move to get up.

So you snuggle further in, tightening your arms and legs around her and murmur into her hair, “Pack the red one.” She chuckles and smoothes her hands along the length of your back while asking, “What about the other one?”

You let out a sigh of contentment and bury your face further into the bend of her neck to conceal your embarrassment as you reply, “Than one looks good…But the red one…it’s flattering at all angles…and it hugs your form well…Trust me the red one will turn heads.”

She laughs and leans close to your ear when she murmurs, “I’ll pack it for you, baby.” Her voice immediately calms your nerves and you feel at home in her arms. After sitting in silence for a moment, you mumble against her neck, “What would you like for dinner?”

She slides her hands down to grip your ass as she replies, “You.” And that provokes your higher-toned schoolgirl giggle. Then you say, “Ok besides that.” Her lips trail down the side of your face until she reaches your jawline and murmurs, “How about…Italian.”

You feel her hands massaging your butt and before things get too heated you ease into sitting up straight to see her brown eyes slowly scanning over you. But you cup her face with your hands and guide her to look at your face, saying, “I’ll get dinner ready and you can finish packing. Ok?”

She grins and turns her face to kiss one of your palms before she teases, “As long as you can be dessert.” Then she moves further up to kiss the pulse point on your wrist and purrs, “And an evening snack.” Then she kisses the inside of your forearm, looking to you with a mischievous grin as she continues, “And a midnight treat.”

You shake your head at her behavior, but chuckle and respond, “Ok.” The medium smirks in victory and releases you from her hold. You slowly stand up, making sure to not lose your balance and throw on your clothes.

Before you walk out, Billie takes your shoulder and turns you to face her. You look to her with a questioning gaze and she pecks your lips, but keeps close when she purrs, “I’ll see you in a bit. Oh, and be warned, my stamina is insatiable.” That makes you giggle, and you assure her, “I think I’m up for the challenge.” Then Billie releases you with a smile and you walk out to the kitchen, not regretting spending the night here whatsoever.

Tagged: @marilynroselleprentiss, @saviorinsilk, @chokemepaulson, @versonstar, @find-me-a-constellation, @cordwliagoode, @psychobitchtess, @midnight-lestrange, @mysweetdelia, @venablesbitch, @peachesandlesbians, @nerdaroo, @cordeliafoxxe, @leskaksel, @lovelymspaulson, @grilledcheeseandguavajelly, @whatabluddymess, @natasha-danvers

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raleighcarrera · 4 years

Text

catch up

platinum | raleigh carrera x mc (cadence dorian)

it’s been eight months since the breakup. they have a lot to catch up on.

~6k words, M (18+ only)

songs mentioned are gorgeous | no more sad songs | touch (acoustic)

he’d been wondering who would get around to dropping their album first. from the looks of the current trending topics on twitter, cadence had won. it looked like she’d even chosen to jack his style -- dropping her album in full with no announcement, no promotion, no warning... nothing.

color him impressed.

no more sad songs was number one on trending. just below it was the word touch. related topics: cadence dorian, raleigh carrera.

he told himself it was just his own narcissism that made him click. that, and morbid curiosity. it’d been so long since he’d last tortured himself, after all.

a long list of tweets stared innocently back at him. GOD touch is the sexiest song anyone has EVER WRITTEN I’M SCREAMING, said the first one. make it a single queen!!!! you deserve the hottie they will cast for that music video and more!!!!!

he scrolled down. sooooooooo are we going to talk about how touch is obviously about raleigh carrera giving that good dick or nah

his eyebrows shot up. well, now he had to listen to it.

he pulled up spotify; of course she was on the home page. with just a few taps, the song started to play. an impressive piano melody filled the room. she must have beep practicing. as her voice filtered in, he turned up the volume.

cadence sounded... soft and sad, and, the masses on twitter were right: sexy. god did her breathless, yearning voice sound sexy. despite himself, he could actually feel his face flush as he listened to the words. so won't you take it, i feel like for the first time i am not faking... fingers on my buttons and now you're playing. master of anticipation, don't you keep it all to yourself.

it took everything in him not to be consumed by the memories that were threatening, but the last thing he needed was to fall down that rabbit hole. he’d gone so long without thinking about her, after all. it was almost up to a full two days at this point, before something would inevitably remind him of her and he would spiral again.

the rest of her album stared back at him from his laptop screen. he studied the cover art as her voice filled the empty room. it was a photo of cadence, of course, a wide full-body shot against a brick wall. she looked powerful, in the sharp black outfit she was wearing, her skirt just short enough to make her legs look a few hundred miles long.

inhaling sharply, raleigh forcibly redirected his gaze to the track list, scanning the rest of the titles. his lips curved up into a smirk as he read them off, one by one. motorcycle boy. hollywood. tattoos and bad news. subtlety was never her strong point.

then again, he mused, as he considered his own journal and the songs inside it -- kaleidoscope dress. ferris wheel. lady liberty. sex at the moda. -- he really wasn’t one to talk. not that his label would ever let him get away with that last one. it was just a working title, anyway.

he navigated back to twitter and tapped the moment about her album, no more sad songs. the first tweet he saw said omgggg i love the energy of cadence building raleigh up in ‘gorgeous’ and then tearing him down in ‘shout out to my ex’ so much kdhfgksjfhdg HER MIND this album is everything

it looked like he had some listening to do. but first...

he strolled over to the far wall of his bedroom and pulled off his shirt, sidling up to the floor length mirror by the window to take a selfie. his free hand pushed his hair back from his face, and he stuck his tongue out at his reflection as he snapped the picture.

it was just trolling, he told himself as he uploaded the photo to his pictagram, already laughing at his own joke while he typed out the caption. it wasn’t like he was trying to get anyone’s attention -- he just couldn’t resist giving the fans and the internet something to talk about.

raleigh smirked at his phone as the photo finished uploading and stared back at him from his feed. photograph with no t-shirt on. well, there was no taking it back now. if cadence was allowed to write about him, he was allowed to enjoy it, right?

five minutes later, his phone rang. it was avery. he took care to pause cadence’s album before he picked up the phone. “helloooooooo?”

“you know you broke the internet, right?” she asked, aprops of a greeting.

a shit-eating grin appeared on his face. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“you’re such a dick,” she laughed, “you just couldn’t let her have one day, could you? you could congratulate her, you know. she worked really hard on that thing.”

“um, i basically gave her a number one album,” he remarked, his bravado a mask as always. “without me she would’ve had, like, one track on that thing. or she wouldda had to write about you. so you’re welcome, too.”

raleigh pulled his phone away from his face to squint down at his pictagram notifications. stream no more sad songs!! said the last ten comments. omg shout out to my ex is right

“besides, i’m getting trolled. like, a lot. i doubt she cares what i post.”

“i wouldn’t be so sure about that,” avery remarked cryptically. before he had a chance to wonder what that meant, she said, “hey, she’s playing a surprise show tonight at webster hall before the album release party. you should stop by.”

“i think if she wanted me to come to her party she would’ve invited me.” it might’ve been nice to hear from her -- especially given the intimate details about their relationship he was now being forced to listen to, along with millions of other people.

you’re not being fair, he reminded himself, thinking again of sex at the moda. he hardly intended to give her a heads-up about that one. though he doubted she would care.

not that he cared. she could write about whatever she wanted. she could turn her life into art -- if that was what she wanted. she could tell... whoever, about what had happened between them. about what he’d made her feel.

she never told him, but, whatever. that was fine. that was her prerogative.

“earth to raleigh,” avery said on the line, snapping him out of his thoughts. “i said, she didn’t tell anyone about the party. the album was a secret, yeah? you should at least come to the show. i think your support would mean a lot to her.”

“well, i guess you’ll just have to support her enough for the both of us,” he said, meaner than he felt. raleigh shut his eyes, sighing as he rubbed at his forehead. “sorry. i’m not trying to be an asshole.”

“don’t sweat it.” avery always let him off the hook so easily, “i know it just comes naturally to you. seriously, the show starts at 7. think about it, okay? if you do decide to come, text me when you get there and i’ll let you in the back.”

he put the album back on as soon as they hung up. without a distraction, there was nothing to stop him from looking at cadence’s twitter account. she’d last posted just a few minutes ago:

surprise! i’ll be playing no more sad songs in its entirety tonight at webster hall’s marlin room. doors open at 6 for the first 600 in line. see you there? you never know who might drop by...

fuck it. he turned the volume up on her album and headed towards the shower. he’d avoided her for long enough, and tonight was as good a night for him to get over himself as any. maybe after this he could stop looking over his shoulder at every party he went to, terrified he’d have to see her.

that didn’t mean that it didn’t feel like a mistake, to get dressed and make his way to the village. it felt like a bad decision every step of the way, even as he ducked around the back of the venue at 7:05 to see avery’s smiling face, holding the backstage door wide open. it was too late to go home, now.

“took you long enough,” she grinned, squealing as she jumped into his arms. “i almost thought you weren’t going to show.”

“yeah, yeah. did she go on yet?”

avery led him inside, closing the door firmly behind them both. she nodded as they stepped up to the side of the stage. the screams from the crowd were deafening. “she just went out there. i think she’s about to start --”

raleigh heard the strum of a guitar and peeked around to see cadence standing center stage. “this is a really good looking crowd,” she said, grinning when the sound of the cheers rose exponentially. “thanks so much for coming out. are you guys cool if i play some tunes? yeah? okay, then. this first one is about a guy i used to date, it’s called ‘gorgeous.’”

he folded his arms over his chest, leaning back against the wall behind them. he was shameless in the way he looked her up and down, staring as she strutted across the stage. he was proud of her -- she’d come a long way since the first time he saw her perform, so long ago. cadence had real stage presence, now -- she’d come into her own. she acted like a woman, sang like a woman, dressed like a woman. she was confident.

“whiskey on ice, sunset and vine. you’ve ruined my life by not being mine.” an elbow in his side made raleigh tear his eyes from her. he looked over at avery, rubbing at his ribs. “ow. what was that for?”

“you know everyone thinks this one is about you, right?” she asked, smirking.

“you make me so happy it turns back to sad, there’s nothing i hate more than what i can’t have.”

“aren’t they all about me?” raleigh asked, still hiding behind his attitude. avery only rolled her eyes, and eventually the crowd’s screams drowned out anything else they might’ve wanted to say.

she played a few more songs before finally sitting down at the piano off to the side of the stage. now that she was closer, raleigh could see her better, and he stared as she brushed her hand across her forehead, pushing her hair off her face. she drank deeply from a water bottle and then set it on the piano’s ledge. raleigh was close enough to watch her swallow, but she still didn’t see him. it was probably the stage lights -- a single spotlight illuminated her at the piano as she adjusted the mic to pull it closer to her lips.

“we’re gonna slow it down for just one song,” cadence said, “i hope you don’t mind.” the cheers from the crowd proved that they didn’t. “i saw ya’ll talking about this one on twitter earlier.” he could see her grin perfectly from where he was standing; it was blinding. “i’m glad you like it. even if you don��t post thirst traps to it.”

the crowd went wild. even raleigh barked out a laugh; he hardly thought she had it in her. okay. point one, cadence.

“put your flashlights in the air for this one, okay? you and i and nobody else... feeling feelings i never felt...”

she was beautiful, of course -- always, every day, but never more than in this moment, with her eyes closed and her expression haunted, her hands moving along the piano keys. it probably said something dangerous about his ego that he found her the most stunning when she was singing about him.

as the last few notes died, he sighed, digging his fingernails into the fabric of his jacket over his arms where they were folded on his chest. suddenly, it felt like he shouldn’t be there. or maybe he was the only one who should be there. either way, he hardly wanted to think about it.

her moment of silent reflection as the song ended was gone in a flash. he watched her take a breath to steady herself, and then cadence was back in her stage persona, hopping off the piano bench to grab her guitar again. “thank you so much, new york city. you’ve been amazing. i’m so glad i could share this album with you -- it’s one of the most personal things i’ve ever written, and it means so much to me to play it for you all like this.”

“this is the last song i have for you tonight -- it’s the title track, no more sad songs. it’s the last song i wrote for the album. this song is about trying to get over someone you can’t help but think about by any means necessary. it’s about the point in a breakup where you’re tired of wallowing and you’ll do anything you can to make yourself feel better -- i like to think it’s about the acceptance stage of grief. anyway, it felt right to keep it last... to name the album after it. i’m finally at a place in my life where i can put this chapter behind me. and it took a lot to get there, and i’m so proud of that. so, with that being said...”

the crowd cheered as she strummed the first few notes. “thank you guys again so fucking much. sing along if you know the words already, okay?”

it was the second time that day he’d heard the song. it still made him feel the same way he’d felt when he first heard it -- angry and surprised and unsettled... and guilty. why hadn’t she ever told him she felt that way? why hadn’t she called him, and more importantly, why had he never called her, again?

his gaze hardened as she stopped at the front of the stage for the bridge. the same single spotlight illuminated her again.

“uh, why do you have that murdery look?” avery asked from beside him. he said nothing, watching the melody build around cadence as she approached the crowd.

“still got you on my mind, starting to realize... no matter what i do, i will only harm myself tryn’a hurt you, and if i turn the music loud just to drown you out --”

her head tipped back with the powerful crescendo. she looked like an angel under the spotlight, more beautiful than he even knew how to explain. his chest seized painfully.

abruptly, he turned around and headed back towards the backstage door. he knew he only had moments until the last song ended and cadence rushed backstage, and he needed to get out of there before that happened.

“raleigh!” avery called after him, but he didn’t stop, throwing open the back door and stepping out onto the sidewalk... immediately into a crowd of waiting fans and paparazzi.

a cacophony of screams started from the street. “ohmygod, it’s raleigh carrera!”

fuck. venue security glared at him as he shoved sunglasses on -- fuck the fact that it was nine o’clock at night -- and rushed off down the sidewalk. so much for getting in and out before cadence saw him. there’d be pictures of his exit all over social media in moments. paparazzi called after him as he rushed to the intersection, eyes scanning the street desperately for a working cab.

he stuck his hand out just as one with its lights on slid to a stop at the corner, jumping inside and slamming the door closed. camera flashes still shone behind his eyes even as he shoved the palms of his hands into them, drawing in a deep breath. sighing shakily, he met the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “88th and park. please.”

once he was alone in his apartment he felt like he wanted to put his fist through a wall. the urge to destroy something, anything was too strong -- because that was what he was supposed to do, wasn’t it? that’s what raleigh carrera would do.

she deserved so much better than him. the last thing she needed was to see him at her show and get sucked back into his bullshit. he paced around his living room, convincing himself he’d done the right thing. she’d moved on, after all -- she was happy, thriving. she didn’t need him around messing up her life. she’d practically said so herself.

his phone vibrated where he’d dumped it on the coffee table, sliding onto the carpeted floor. raleigh couldn’t think of anyone he wanted to talk to, but he bent down and picked it up anyway.

he almost jumped out of his skin when he saw the caller id. cadence dorian. tongue out emoji. winking emoji. music note.

“hello?”

“oh, so your phone isn’t down a well somewhere. okay, just checking. good to know.”

she hung up.

he glared down at the phone in his hand. what the fuck? raleigh called her back before he even knew what he was doing.

“what?” she answered, though she sounded annoyed. like... really annoyed.

“what is your problem?” he demanded.

“my problem?” she laughed. he could barely hear her over the commotion on the other end of the line -- someone was calling her name repeatedly in a way that sounded urgent -- and then a door slammed, and there was quiet. “my problem, okay. i don’t have a problem. i’m not the one out here subtweeting and sneaking in and out of your show without calling, am i?”

“no, you’re just writing and releasing an entire sixteen-song album about me and all the ways i ruined your life without calling,” he snapped, his patience finally wearing thin enough to crumble. “don’t you think it might’ve been nice for you to give me a heads-up?”

“oh, please,” cadence scoffed, and he could feel that she was getting angry now, too. it felt good, in an awful sort of way. at least it was something. “i should have to clear it with you every time i write a song?”

“not a heads-up about the album,” he grit out, the fingers of his free hand flexing with the urge to throw something, “a heads-up about the way you fucking felt. you never say a goddamn word about any of that to me and i have to find out about it for the first time with -- everyone else? that’s really fucking special, cadence. that means a lot to me.”

there was silence on the other end of the line, giving him a moment to try to calm himself down. cadence was only ever quiet when she’d been surprised, meaning she wasn’t expecting him to say that. but she was certainly silent, then; if he couldn’t still hear her breathing raggedly, he might’ve assumed that she hung up on him again.

finally, she spoke, her voice small and unsure. “raleigh...”

but he wasn’t done fighting with her yet. “what’s the matter? you never thought that it might actually hurt my feelings? i guess that’s on me for giving a shit.”

“raleigh,” cadence said again, more insistently this time, “i didn’t know how to --”

“how to what, cadence? not break up with me? not ignore me for eight months afterwards? not pretend like it didn’t mean anything to you? it’s not that difficult.”

“well, obviously it was too difficult for you to do, too. you didn’t call me, either. so i’m supposed to believe -- what, exactly? that you missed me? that’s convincing, when you’re never out without a model on your arm.”

she sounded hurt. why did she sound hurt? she was the one who’d stomped on his heart, she was the one who’d wanted this.

“get over yourself,” he bit out, his hand curling into a fist at his side. he was never going to get his security deposit back after what he was about to do to his penthouse. “you knew i was in love with you and you didn’t care. which is fine. you don’t have to... just own it. stop acting like i did something to you.”

suddenly, the commotion on the other end of the line was back. “i have to go,” she said softly, her voice barely a whisper.

he hung up without saying goodbye, throwing his phone onto the couch. okay. that was fine. everything was fine.

except that he couldn’t possibly stand to be in his apartment for another moment -- not without doing something stupid.

he grabbed his keys and his phone and left, slamming the door behind him. his fingers drummed restlessly on his thighs as he rode the elevator down to the lobby. there were paparazzi waiting outside the front door of his building -- raleigh could see them through the glass as soon as he stepped out of the elevator. with a grimace, he headed for the back door.

there was already a car waiting for him. “let’s go to kismet,” he directed, rapidly firing off text messages to anyone he knew who might be available to distract him.

within minutes, he was inside the club at a vip table. there was a bottle of vodka sitting in a bucket of ice at the center of the booth, calling out to him. he lifted it straight to his lips, drinking as much as he could in one go without coughing. she’d always used to joke about his self-destructive tendencies. if only she could see him now.

“hey, raleigh.” belle tamblyn stood before him, smiling in the low light of the club. she must’ve just gotten back from paris fashion week. two of her friends had already sat down at the booth, talking among themselves.

he leaned back into the booth with a charming smile. “hey, belle. i knew you missed me.”

she laughed, taking his words as an invitation to sit down in his lap. he didn’t push her off, wrapping an arm around her narrow shoulders. she was taller and thinner than cadence in a way that wasn’t unfamiliar to him, but wasn’t exactly welcome, either. you’re never out without a model on your arm.

“so,” she started, looking down at him from up close, “what’ve you --”

he leaned up and kissed her, sliding a hand into her hair. her lips parted in surprise, sticky with lip gloss. raleigh bit her bottom lip and she sighed breathlessly, and that was -- good. that was almost... close enough.

his free hand slid over her backside, pulling her in closer. she was breathing hard when she pulled away, her face flushed.

raleigh laughed, pushing his fingertips under the hem of her dress. she reached down and swatted playfully at his chest.

“you’re an asshole,” she said primly, but she was rubbing her hand over the muscles in his chest. “do you want to get out of here?”

the last thing he wanted was to bring her back to his apartment, or to be there at all. “i don’t think i can wait that long,” he said charmingly, “bathroom?”

her nose scrunched up as she considered it, staring down at him. then, she said, “fine,” and slid up off his lap. he grinned, grabbing her hand and tugging her off toward the back of the club.

it was a single person bathroom, and blessedly empty when they arrived. no one paid them any attention as he pulled her inside and flipped the lock.

raleigh lifted her onto the sink and leaned in to kiss her again. she moaned as he pushed her legs apart and stepped between them, sliding his hands up her thighs.

this was fine. this was what he wanted.

so why couldn’t he force himself to do what he knew he was supposed to? his hands didn’t seem to want to move from where he’d anchored them on her legs, his lips kissing her methodically but not doing much else.

she wants to have sex with you! his brain screamed at him, she is a supermodel. a supermodel who wants to have sex with you.

impatiently, her hands slid to the waistband of his jeans. he didn’t stop her as she pulled the zipper down and slipped her hand under the waistband of his briefs.

it’s not a big deal. you’ve done this a million times. never after an argument like that with cadence, though... only when she was busy pretending he didn’t exist...

the bass of the music playing in the club vibrated through the closed door. the song sounded painfully familiar -- he strained to make out what it was...

of course it was a dance remix of ‘gorgeous.’ why wouldn’t it be?

panting, he pulled his mouth off of belle’s, tipping their foreheads together. “hey,” he started hoarsely, licking his lips as he glanced down towards where her hand was wrapped around him, “i’m sorry, but i don’t... have anything. i don’t think we should...”

have unprotected sex in a nightclub bathroom. her teeth dug into her bottom lip as she weighed her options. on any other night, that might have actually been flattering, but tonight...

pounding on the bathroom door made their minds up for them. he stepped back, adjusting himself in his jeans. “come on.”

he helped her down off the sink and opened the door, ready to lead her back out into the club. the line of people waiting to use the bathroom stared open-mouthed at them both as they walked off toward the booth. raleigh grinned at them as he walked past -- that was what he was supposed to do, right?

belle’s friends barely arched an eyebrow at her as they sat down again. immediately, he started pouring drinks and passing them out -- anything to be as drunk as possible before the song ended.

by the time he stumbled home, alone, it was late -- later than he’d wanted to be out. he used the front door -- not because he wanted any paparazzi to get photos of him going home alone or anything, but because he felt like it -- and waited until he was in the elevator to sigh frustratedly, decidedly not checking his phone. he knew there was no way she’d texted him.

cadence was sitting on the floor outside of his apartment door when he stepped out into the hallway.

he stared at her like she was a hallucination, lifting one hand to his eyes to rub at them. maybe he had more to drink than he’d thought. she looked up at him, still dressed in what she must’ve worn to her album release party.

he felt like he was going to throw up. god, that would be uncool.

“hi,” she said quietly, from the floor. wordlessly, he stepped closer to her and held out his hand. she took it, letting him pull her up. “can i talk to you?”

that wasn’t going to be easy, considering he had absolutely no idea what to say, but raleigh nodded, unlocking his front door and motioning for her to step inside.

he didn’t turn the lights on, letting the floor-to-ceiling windows illuminate the space. the lights from the city and the glow of the moon made cadence look almost ethereal as she slowly wandered over towards the far wall, hesitating for a moment before kicking her high-heeled shoes off. despite himself, his lips twitched up into a smile as he watched her.

“want a drink?” he asked, because he certainly did.

she nodded, and he moved to the bar cart to pour them both a half-full glass of vodka. he dropped an ice cube into his and poured orange juice over hers.

raleigh forced his feet to join her at the windows, silently holding her glass out to her. she took it with a mumble of thanks, lifting it to her lips. her eyes were trained on the view. what the fuck was she doing here?

the silence stretched between them. finally, he said, “congratulations on the album. it’s really good.”

that seemed to snap her out of it. she snuck a glance at him out of the corner of her eye. “you listened to it?”

he nodded. no point in lying about it, now. “i’m a narcissist,” he joked, “it’s what i do.”

she laughed. raleigh stuffed his free hand into his pocket so that he wouldn’t reach out for her. god, he’d missed her laugh.

he drained what was left in his glass in one go. “what’re you doing here?”

cadence was still staring out at the city. “i wanted to talk to you.”

“and yet, here you are. not talking.”

“i didn’t get that far when i planned this in my head,” she admitted, in an annoyingly endearing way. god damnit.

“how far did you get?”

she turned to look at him, then, leaning her shoulder against the window. “i thought maybe i would just kiss you when you got here and that would say everything i wanted to say. but then i chickened out.”

it felt like she’d just elbowed him in the stomach. “that doesn’t sound like you.”

“the kissing? i don’t know, i thought about it kind of a lot...”

he swallowed hard. “the chickening out.”

“oh.” she nodded, looking away. raleigh watched her stare down at the glass in her hands. “i guess i just felt like i already messed up so much. i didn’t want to... do the wrong thing again.”

raleigh couldn’t quite decide if he was too drunk for this conversation or not drunk enough. “how was your party?”

“it was fine. i think the last one i had -- for the odyssey -- was better.”

there was a night he didn’t want to relive. “look,” he sighed finally, turning back towards the windows and the city skyline, “i didn’t mean to put you in an uncomfortable position. if you’re only here because you think i’m upset... you don’t have to be. i’ll be fine.”

he could see her shifting out of his peripheral vision. she seemed to be considering what she wanted to say. finally, she spoke up. “that’s not why i’m here.” he turned towards her and watched as her shoulders squared. “i’m here because i missed you. a lot. and i wanted to apologize, for what happened between us... for shutting you out. for not telling you how i felt -- that i was in love with you, too. for letting you go.”

raleigh’s grip tightened on his glass so that he wouldn’t drop it on the floor. he stared at her like he was seeing her for the first time.

cadence drew in a deep breath and continued, “getting over you was the hardest thing i ever had to do. and when i saw the pictures of you leaving the show tonight i realized... i failed miserably at it. i can’t get over you. i couldn’t. i won’t.”

he had to be imagining this, right? he was drunk and asleep in his limo, he had to be. he was dreaming.

but she felt very, very real when she reached out and twined her fingers in the fabric of his shirt.

“please say something,” she begged. she was undeniable.

“cadence...” he sighed, “you know how i feel.”

she nodded, once. “i do, but i want to hear you say it.”

“i want you to be my fucking girlfriend,” he admitted immediately, his voice hoarse. now that he’d given in, his free hand reached out and cupped her cheek. “for real. all the time. in front of everyone. i want you to move in, i never want us to go another day without talking. i don’t want anyone else to touch you. ever again.”

her lips parted. he couldn’t stop his thumb from pressing into her invitingly full bottom lip, watching in fascination as her eyelids fluttered. “raleigh,” she breathed, beautifully enough to do his head in.

he stepped forward swiftly, pressing her back against the windows, and kissed her. she moaned, scrambling to set her glass on the side table next to her. he knew her hands were free when they shoved into his hair.

fuck, if he hadn’t been wanting this for so long. his lips broke off of her to trail kisses across her jaw, down towards her neck. he couldn’t stop his fingers from tugging at her dress insistently. “do you want that?” he demanded. raleigh felt her nod against him. his teeth scraped across her pulse point. “say it.”

“raleigh!” she exclaimed. it was the most amazing sound in the world. his hips pushed forward insistently, grinding between her thighs. the force of it pushed her back into the windows. “i want it, i want you. i want all of it -- everything.”

the urgency to fuck her through the window was balancing precariously against his desire to do things right -- to give her what she deserved. with a huff, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up, walking them both off towards his bedroom.

she laughed again as he dumped her on the mattress, hard enough to make her bounce. raleigh grinned back at her as he whipped his shirt off of his head, tossing it to the floor. she was scrambling up the mattress, and he chased her towards the headboard, kneeling on top of her when she finally laid back.

he crowded her in close for another kiss, his hands everywhere at once. she whined into his lips, kissing him so urgently, like they didn’t have all the time in the world, now. “i missed you,” she breathed, her hands clutching at his shoulders desperately.

“i missed you too, beautiful,” he returned, pushing her dress up her thighs, “now lie back and let me make you feel good.”

his head was spinning by the time they’d finished, and not because of the drinks he’d had. cadence was tucked up under his arm, her head pillowed on his chest. she was still catching her breath as she dragged her fingertips along the tattoo spanning the expanse of his ribs.

the sun was starting to come up outside, filtering light into his bedroom. he stared at her face, illuminated by the dawning daylight. “you know, if anyone here is gorgeous, it’s you.”

“oh my god,” she mumbled, pressing her face into his skin, “you’re never going to let this go, are you?”

he smirked up at the ceiling as he pulled her in closer. “would you say it makes you so mad?”

“i’m going home,” she threatened, pinching his side. he laughed, squirming away from her hand. “this is over. you ruined it.”

“well, what if i want to come along?”

“raleigh,” she groaned finally, kicking him under the covers, “stop it.”

he snickered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “what, you’re allowed to write about me, but i’m not allowed to enjoy it?”

“please,” she sighed, settling in against his chest again, “like you don’t write about me.”

“i never said that,” he hummed, already imagining the things her face would do when she finally got to listen to his album, if he ever finished it. “i’m really hoping the label doesn’t make me change the name of sex at the moda.”

“okay, you did not write a song called ‘sex at the moda.’ tell me you didn’t.”

“i’d hate to lie.”

she lifted her head to look at him, her face flushing. “will you play it for me?”

he eyed the guitar in the corner of his bedroom. like he could ever say no to her. still...

“maybe later,” he grinned, rolling over to pin her beneath him, the sheets tangling around their legs. “i can think of a better use of our time. we have a lot to catch up on.”

her arms wound around his neck. “tell me about it.”

#raleigh carrera #cadence dorian #raleigh carrera x mc #raleigh x mc #raleigh x cadence #platinum #choices platinum #myfic #i think of cadence's sound as like very pop-forward so that's where the song choices came from #also bc the little mix songs came on shuffle and made me think of them #i hope you guys like this !! i've had it in my drafts for literally 2 weeks debating whether or not i should post it lmao #i think it's kind of corny with the song choices but the second half of it picked up to me so idk #i want it out of my drafts for organizational purposes lol i hope some of you like it anyway !!

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mirahuyooo · 4 years

Text

Nighthawk | ksj

Nighthawk

—No matter the effort, he always plagues your mind in nights like this one, reminding you of the feelings you let get out of hand.

Word Count: 1,638 Contents: AnGST, a smidgen of fluff and crack, jin and y/n are besties OwO Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Reader A/N: I noticed I haven’t written anything for jin in a long while (shame on me) so here’s this! I’m in mood for love—unrequited love. Hope you all enoyed! Today’s sad, sad piece is inspired by the word;

Nighthawk

n. a recurring thought that only seems to strike you late at night—an overdue task, a nagging guilt, a looming and shapeless future—that circles high overhead during the day, that pecks at the back of your mind while you try to sleep, that you can successfully ignore for weeks, only to feel its presence hovering outside the window, waiting for you to finish your coffee, passing the time by quietly building a nest.

P.S. I just wanna remind everyone that dYNAMITE IS COMING SOON oehgtiuabrgujbaufg prepare YOUR LoINS eveRYONE we’RE about tO gET deSTROYED ahksgabrigk

[masterlist]

A sigh leaves your lips as you close the door behind you, setting your bag down on the nearby kitchen counter. It was late—very late. Your face disappears behind the hand that you had brought forth to rub the furrowing of your eyebrows away. There was a damning silence that reigned over your empty Seoul city apartment, and you were attacked from it reflecting your current state, leaving you no choice but to throw yourself in bed.

The moonlight filters lightly through the curtains, casting over the lump of blankets you soon cocooned yourself in. Not even bothering to slip out of the clothes you’ve been wearing for the past twelve hours, you buried your face into one of the many spare pillows you had placed around you, hugging it closer to your chest as you dealt with the fissures seizing your heart. Alas, the frustration of not falling asleep adds to the weight you carry with you. At the very least, with the pillows surrounding you, whatever demons lurking in the dark won’t be able to add to the problems you were dealing with.

You knew it was a senseless and pathetic feat. All of this was practically your own fault. You were, after all, the architect of your own melancholy, and, for some unfortunate reason, you were exceptionally good at this particular skill.

Fuelling your despair, you deemed it befitting to punish yourself by reaching for your phone and further depriving yourself of much needed sleep. You’ve been lying around for what seemed like eternity—you weren’t quite sure. Your mind barely registers the numbers that the clock displayed before you, and in all honesty, you’ve lost the ability to care about it at all. You’ve stayed up well past the hours of 2 AM before, doing the same self-wallowing sessions you were doing right now. You had long been a seasoned connoisseur in ploughing through ungodly hours—something he’s always scolded you for.

As some sort of hilarious joke you couldn’t quite understand, fate throws something in your way as you scroll through Twitter—a picture of you and the very man who’s been plaguing your thoughts at 2:18 AM in the morning—Kim Seokjin. Even as your eyes start to blur with tears, they still drink his beauty in—his plump lips, his deep piercing eyes, and his confident gait. Combine those compelling factors with his welcoming persona, astounding cooking skills, and sheer talent, and you’ve got yourself one fine man that you’ve been simping over for the past decade or so. Oh, how blessed you’d be if he was yours.

Unfortunately, there also existed compelling factors that couldn’t make Kim Seokjin yours.

For instance, there was your remarkable trait of being a damn coward. Residing so long within the realm of the accursed Friend Zone had fashioned your fears into mighty beasts that bullied you into staying within the borders of the said zone, regardless of your countless attempts to escape it. Always at the last minute, your mind compels you to retreat at the nightmare of ruining the friendship you two had fostered over so many years—should he ever realize that you were a peasant compared to his princely attributes.

Speaking of being low beneath him, you very much were one. You’ve made peace with your inferiority to his beauty and lifestyle, so much that you could stomach sitting next to him in all of your bare-faced, broke glory. You were well aware that you were average—disagreeable next to him, but average nonetheless.

In other aspects, your mundane life also pales in contrast to his exhilarating endeavors. He’s a beloved icon—a passionate singer and graceful dancer who tours the world to meet the millions he’s touched with his words and his group’s songs. You, on the other hand, exist on the other side of the spectrum. You were no one special really, which you really didn’t mind since you weren’t keen on being in the spotlight. The closest shot to fame you ever had was when you were revealed to be Kim Seokjin’s non-showbiz best friend who once shamelessly dominated him on an episode of EatJin.

You weren’t even his type, which had greatly satiated the accusations of some fans—it’s still undecided if you should take full offense on that one. You weren’t the cutesy, feminine, soft girl that’s often alluded to be matched with him. You were capable of a meal or two, but you were no master chef. The only thing in the box that you know you fulfil very well is that you take care of him—and you’re enormously proud of that accomplishment of yours.

As much as you mother him at times, there are still many a days where you wonder why on Earth he even remains as your best friend—what more if he was to be your boyfriend?

Another sigh leaves your lips once again, tearing your eyes away from the screen to stare up at the moon outside your window—the sole witness of the late night happenings that occur within the premises of your desolate life. Ah, but even the moon would remind you of him.

There was a sensation going abuzz within you—something you knew all too well. You’ve done your best to ignore the infestation of feelings that had apprehended your very being, even attempting to exterminate it by going on numerous blind dates. Unfortunately, the damn lovebug has always damned you, always surviving and multiplying with every sweet gesture, every dashing smile, and every uplifting heart-to-heart that he delivers to you.

All of a sudden, your phone rings. The screen reveals the face of the very man you’ve been having a debate with your mind about. Jin was calling you.

“Why does he have to be like this?” you whined to no one in particular, snivelling away as you were further left a mess. The moment your hand properly holds the device again, you glare at the image. “I hate him,” you grumble, but not really.

As soon as you answered, you weren’t given a chance to talk. “Why are you online?” he instantly asks you in that scolding tone you were so familiar with.

Your heart flutters, even you went to roll your eyes. “Why are you up?” you countered childishly, voice raspy from your recent breakdown.

Jin’s delectable chuckle makes you squeak into the plush of a nearby pillow. “Ya! I just woke up,” he defensively says, not seeming to take notice of your little stunt. “I’m just grabbing a little snack, and then I’ll go back to bed,” he informs you, “busy day tomorrow, after all.”

You hum, as your insides continue with its attempts to betray you. “I couldn’t sleep,” you find yourself admitting to him in a weakened tone.

As you hear the slight ruckus in the background, Jin tsk-ed at your bad decisions. You prepared yourself to be told off. “Scrolling through social media won’t help, stupid,” he softly chastised, much to your surprise and damnation. “Drink the tea I got you from Japan,” he tells you, making you fluster. “You still have that right?”

You could only hum in response, as you further coiled into a fetal position—as if to say you were made as soft as a baby by this man. You held back a snivel, as your mess of emotions continued to make you cry over him.

“Good,” Jin says, still not aware of the true state of ruin you were in. “Go on and drink some, then. It’ll help you sleep.”

A sniff escapes you. “Okay,” you say with a whimper clinging onto the last syllable.

This time, your best friend doesn’t miss the sound. You could imagine him freezing, stopping whatever it was he was doing. “(Y/N), are you alright?” he asks, concern already pouring through in those few words alone.

Not wanting to conflict him, you went out of your way to fake a cough and a few more sniffles. “Yeah,” you said, in spite of your heart hammering against your chest. “I’m just tired from all the arranging earlier.”

The silence that followed was eventually broken by Jin clearing his throat. “Rest well then,” he tells you, before he goes to tease. “No one should look ugly at my wedding, and that includes you.”

Ah, there it was—the one last factor that cements you to the confines of your prison cell in the zone of unrequited love.

“Good night, (Y/N),” he says, voice gentle enough to destroy your heart.

In the silence that followed, Jin didn’t hang up. He never really does hang up first. You smile bitterly, tears silently flowing one after the other like a waterfall. “Goodbye, Jin,” you tell him, ending the call just as a sob wrecks through you. You put down your phone, and cry into your pillow.

Kim Seokjin—your best friend, your greatest regret—is getting married, and to a woman you knew would be perfect for him—a woman so graceful, beautiful, and skillful. After all, you were the one who had introduced the two of them together in the first place. You had no doubt that the two of them would be happily ever after.

You wonder then, if you hadn’t pushed your feelings aside so adamantly and went with the hell of it, would you have been the one in white to be waiting down the aisle? At any point in time, was there really a smidgen of a chance that Jin would’ve said that he liked you back?

You’ll never know.

Your puffy eyes wander towards the lone moon that shone brightly behind your sheer curtains. Your nightly companion was staring right back at you, but all you could hear were your thoughts.

It was all your fault.

#bts au #bts imagines #bts angst #bts jin #bts kim seokjin #bts jin imagine #bts jin x reader #kim seokjin #kim seokjin angst #kim seokjin imagines #kim seokjin x reader

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softbaby-tom · 4 years

Text

needy - t.h. x reader

summary: “Oh fuck, hold on, were you listening to me singing in the shower?” warnings: tooth-rottingly sweet and sticky fluff word count: +2.5 k

A/N: so this is my first ever one shot / fic in general, so please bear with me. Very special thanks to @worldoftom for being an amazing friend and editor for me. I love you to pieces! —————————————–

It’s half six and you’re impatiently pacing back and forth in front of the bathroom door, because you have to get ready for the dinner date with Tom’s family in two hours. Tom’s been hogging the bathroom for so long that it’s pretty much a case of “start now or you’ll be late” at this point - you just can’t wait any longer.

So, you mutter to yourself “fuck it, I’m going in,” and sneak inside the bathroom while he’s still in the shower. The second you stick your head through the door, you’re instantly greeted with the smell of his shower gel and a wave of hot steam coming from the shower. After a few seconds of adjusting to the new environment, you make your way over to the sink-area to collect your makeup bag, along with all the loose items scattered across the counters next to the sink, where you usually do your makeup. Most of the time you’re in either too much of a hurry or simply too lazy to put all the products back into the bag, where they belong. So, you just leave them out to easily use them again the next morning without having the trouble of rummaging around to find them.

It’s safe to say that Tom is often annoyed with the situation of all those items flying around the bathroom counters, but he never really gives you shit about it, either. He just shoves them all to the side, whenever he needs the space or is looking for something in particular. Over the past few years, you’ve come to know he’s a slightly more organized person than you are and that he likes everything to be neat and in its right place. You, however, find it more practical to have them at arm’s length whenever you need them.

In that moment, you realize that Tom didn’t notice you coming in, as you can hear him starting to sing. His sweet, velvet-like voice fills the hot, steamy air like a soft breeze at the beach on a hot summer day. You stand there in awe of his beautiful voice and close your eyes to drown out everything that could be distracting your senses and just enjoy the rare occasion of hearing him sing. He’s usually very self-conscious about his singing - even though you’ve told him multiple times that there really is not a single reason to be - so, with that in mind, you just know he’s completely unaware of your presence right now. You listen closer and start to recognize the song he’s singing.

… And I can be needy

Way too damn needy

I can be needy

Tell me how good it feels to be needed …

For a second there, you contemplate whether or not doing your makeup in the bathroom while Tom is showering is a good idea, but looking at the bathroom mirror completely fogged up, you soon decide to move the whole procedure to the living room. You look over your shoulder one last time to maybe catch a glimpse of his cute butt, but even the shower screens are fogged up to the point that it looks like they’re actually made of frosted glass. With a pout on your face and a chuckle under your breath, you turn on your heel and strut to the living room, your collected items shoved under your arms.

That’s pretty much the best place to work on your makeup, mainly because it has the best light, due to the massive window front. Sitting down on the floor with your legs crossed, you set the small stand-up mirror that you carried from the bathroom along with everything else on the coffee table, then twist your hair into a messy bun on the top of your head to get it out of the way. You study your reflection to look for any particular unwanted spots you may need to cover up. The silence seems unbearable as you work, so you pull your phone out of the right pocket of your joggers and open your favorite playlist to keep it playing in the background.

To start off your daily makeup routine, you cleanse your face with a cotton pad and some toner, rubbing it across your face to get rid of anything that might have accumulated over night. Afterwards, you take out your eye cream and moisturizer to prep your face for the layers you’re about to put on. In that moment, you hear the bathroom door opening and Tom walking down the hallway towards you and the sound of your music.

As he walks around the corner, you see him shaking his bum and swaying his hips to the beat of the song that fills the air, wearing only the jeans he is apparently intending on wearing for dinner and the towel he used to dry himself off, wrapped around his neck, both edges falling on his bare chest. You are once again thankful that your taste in music is similar to his, almost the same, even. You can’t imagine yourself being in a relationship with someone with a completely different taste in music, at least if they hated everything you ever put on.

A big smile starts to spread across your face seeing him like this. Remembering his little singing performance in the shower, your mind comes up with a devious plan to tease him a bit.

Keeping as much of a straight face as possible, you turn on needy by Ariana Grande - the song he was singing in the shower earlier - to test his reaction. At first, he looks confused, as if he's taken aback by the sudden change in tempo, stopping his movements mid-dance. He stands there frozen for a second and you realize that he might not have known the song he was singing. He must have probably heard you sing it to yourself, absentmindedly, a few times.

Collecting himself, he closes the small distance in between the two of you and sits down in the armchair across the coffee table. You feel his eyes on you as you proceed to put on your concealer.

“What did you just put on your face?” he asks completely out of the blue.

While buffing it in, you answer in a nonchalant tone, “It’s called concealer.”

“And what is it for?”

“Darling, it’s literally in the name. It conceals everything that needs to be concealed. Imperfections like dark undereye circles and blemishes and all that.” In a cheeky tone, you add, “You see, your silly shenanigans last night are pretty much to blame for these dark circles in the first pl-”

“Wait, what is this song again?” he interrupts you, one hand raised with his index finger pointing up.

You look up from the mirror and flash him your brightest smile, raising one eyebrow in an attempt to look mischievous as you answer, “Why, do you like it?”

“Yeah, I mean, I think so. It was stuck in my head the whole day, but I couldn’t remember where the fuck I heard...” Tom tilts his head and squints as if the pieces are falling together inside his head. “Oh fuck, hold on, were you listening to me singing in the shower?” he asks, his fist raised at the height of his shoulder, thumb pointing backwards.

To be fair, he should have been on to you the second you changed the song. Truth is, you're constantly trying to prank each other in some way or the other, always quick to call one another out on little things like that.

You can see a blush growing on his cheeks immediately. In a heartbeat, you get up from the floor and make your way over to the armchair he's sitting in. Cupping his face with both hands, you settle on his lap and look straight into his chocolate-like eyes.

“Listen, babe. I’ve told you once and I’ll tell you a million times again, if I have to. Don’t. Be. Embarrassed. About. Your. Singing. In front of me or anyone else. I love you, I love your voice and I love your singing. I love your snores, your grumbles in the morning when you’re still sleep-drunk and your mumbled monologues when you’re asleep. I could listen to all of it, all day and all night.”

To emphasize what you just said, you press your lips onto his, for a little peck, and you can feel him relax into your touch instantly as he brings his hands around your waist to pull you closer and prolong the kiss a bit more. He never seems quite satisfied by a mere peck on the lips. Before the kiss gets too heated, though, you pull away quickly, leaving Tom with a serious pout on his mouth. He looks like a puppy who's been denied belly rubs or his favorite toy right now, which is endearing on the one hand, but extremely annoying how it gets to you almost every time.

“Now, I really need to finish my makeup, otherwise we’re going to be late,” you say while attempting to get up from his lap, but he holds you by your hips and pulls you back down.

“What the—” you want to ask, but he shuts you right up by capturing your lips with his, holding your face in between his hands. After a passionate kiss, he holds you close to his face, foreheads touching.

With a serious look in his eyes, he practically whispers, “I love you, too. More than you know and more than I’ll ever be able to verbalize.” Shrugging, Tom adds, “Just needed to say that.”

You feel your face heating up at his words, always so flattering despite being so simple, then you breathe out, “I’m glad you did. Good talk. If you would excuse me, now?”

Tom raises his hands on either side of you in a surrendering movement, letting you finally get up from his lap so you can finish your makeup.

After asking a few more questions about the products you’re using, Tom stands up from the armchair and struts into your shared bedroom to put on the rest of his outfit for the evening. Just as he walks out, fully dressed and looking dashing as always, you finish your look by adding some setting spray. Don’t want to look cakey halfway through the evening.

“Okay, I think I’m good to go,” Tom huffs half-amusedly, eyes studying your whole face with a longing expression. “Wow. You look— wow.”

“I love how eloquent you can be, gorgeous.” You laugh, watching through the corner of your eye as he pouts at you in that almost-adult-like way of his. “Someone’s extremely needy today, hm?” you add, getting up from the floor and pulling him into you by a hand so you can place a flimsy kiss on his lips. “C’mon, let me put on some clothes so we can leave.”

When you come home later that night, you head straight for the bathroom to take care of your night routine. As much as you enjoy doing your makeup and the way it makes you feel more confident when you wear it, there is no better feeling than taking it off again at the end of the day.

You stand in front of the mirror, humming, taking it all off, feeling eyes in the back of your head. Looking over your shoulder through the mirror, you can see Tom standing by the door frame, already in his sweats, naked from the waist up, ready for bed, with the most doe-like eyes you’ve ever seen on him.

“What now?” you ask, grabbing the several makeup wipes and cotton pads you used to throw them in the bin beneath the sink.

“Nothing,” he says shaking his head and grinning. “Figured I’d watch you doing that, too. A full circle kind of thing, y’know?”

“You’re ridiculous,” you say with a short huff. Next, you reach for your moisturizer and start applying it for the night. That’s actually your favorite part about the whole routine; feeling it sink into your skin, smelling the familiar scent because you’ve used the same one for so long that it always makes you sleepier, just from smelling it.

Lifting a hand up to his chest as though he’s offended, Tom gapes at you in the mirror before he turns around to leave for the bedroom. “You know where to find me,” he says over his shoulder, almost bumping into the doorframe on his way out, causing you to snort out a small laugh.

You finish off as quick as you can, shoving everything into the cabinet next to the mirror haphazardly so you can join him in bed while he’s still awake.

You find him lying on his side under the duvet, humming to himself a sweet melody you think you know from somewhere, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. So, you just slide under the covers yourself, snuggling up to him immediately. His arms come around your body by sheer instinct, too. There’s a long shared gaze into each other’s half-closed eyes, pinky fingers intertwined in between your heads, before Tom takes a breath in.

Before you know what’s happening, he starts singing.

I'm so in love with you

And I hope you know

Darling, your love is more than worth its weight in gold

We've come so far my dear

Look how we've grown

And I wanna stay with you until we're grey and old

Just say you won't let go

You’re pretty much in shock, unable to form any coherent thoughts, let alone to find any words adequate enough to tell him. Simply staring at him with wide eyes, feeling a subtle prickling in the corner, mouth agape at the massive vote of confidence he’s offering you right now, you listen to him in silence. He's rarely comfortable enough to sing in front of you, and the fact that he’s doing it right now sends a warm, tingling sensation to the pit of your stomach and tugs delicately at your heart. You’re still too stunned by his voice and everything he makes you feel that you cannot stop staring at him. Even if you were able to form a logical sentence, you wouldn’t trust your voice to be anything more than a croaky whisper.

Just as Tom opens his eyes again to look at you, a single tear runs down your cheek, falling onto the pillow. You feel his thumb brushing a second tear away before it falls, the words seeping carefully through his melodic tone, and with a deep sigh, you realize what he's singing.

"That song," you say, and you were right; it's nothing more than a raspy murmur. "It played at the restaurant on our first date, didn't it?"

“It did, princess. And you still look just as beautiful as you did that night. You know, I can’t ever take my eyes off of you,” he mutters softly, his warm words hitting your face and reaching your heart. “You’re just stunning - with and without makeup. You don’t even have to try. I just hope I’ll have the chance to look at that beautiful face for the rest of my goddamned life.”

You feel more tears stinging in your eyes and a lump building up in your throat, but you fight against them to pull off a smile and breathe out, “Always and forever... Promise?”

“Promise.”

--------------------------------------

A/N: I’m so happy the teaser did considerably great and I hope you also like the whole thing. Feedback is appreciated and encouraged. Thank you so much for reading! i love you.

tagging some mutuals / friends and everyone who reblogged the teaser. Crossed out means I can’t tag you.

@worldoftom, @stuckonspidey, @hollandraul, @snowflakeparker, @farfromhaz, @mrhollandisart, @tomhollandsblog, @woaholland, @foreverherth, @screamholland, @humbledutch, @starkissedholland, @starksparker, @softspiderling, @tomhoe-lland, @cherry-holland, @thatweirdomimic,

#tom holland #tom holland oneshot #tom holland one shot #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fan fic #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fan fiction #fanfic #softbaby-tom #mine

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trying-to-work · 3 years

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Apparently my 13-year old wrote this. It's fucking great!

Oscar was heading back to his home. He had just finished his day of Education System 7. He went back home with high spirits, knowing that his friends would have something interesting on their minds. Oscar had very individualistic friends. Likewise, he was strange and unusual. But his friends always made life interesting, with their points of view.

Oscar and his friends liked to always go to the Sitting Garden. The Sitting Garden was a place where people could go to have a nice time and entertain themselves. It had lots of trees, benches, beautiful landscapes, structures and fountains. And the shrine to the Government leaders. All of the Government leaders were very respected and a huge part of their society.

Oscar headed to the Sitting Garden. As he was passing through to his favorite opening, he noticed that the vegetation around one of the trees was turning yellow. He went to further investigate, and found his friend James Conducting another one of his experiments. This time it was a flying device. He saw that the flying device was an electric hover engine, using propulsion fans to fly.

“Tell me, just what is this supposed to be?” Said another one of Oscar's friends, Kate. She was just as confused as Oscar as to what this was.

“This is a propulsion system that I came up with. By spinning fan blades to make the machine fly, it stabilizes the mechanism and steadies out the torque anomalies. I also use the energy of our impending doom to help.”

“What is our impending doom?” asked Oscar.

“Oh, you haven’t heard of the Supernova that is coming? Our very star is going to go into its Giant Phase in just 9 years, and the Government officials have yet to say anything.”

“What? Why was I not told of this! My family literally works for the System Stability Corporation. Am I the only one who this is news to?” exclaimed Occar.

“Oh calm down, this crisis has only been going on for 40 or so hours. You are not the only one left in the dark here. Our star is enormous. It is very unpredictable and a crisis like this is something that we prepared for.”

The trio discussed this matter further in the Sitting Garden, until the late night came. Walking at night in the Sitting Garden was always a very fun thing to do. The reflections of all the lights had such a magic effect on the fountains, and all the taller vegetation. As Oscar, Kate James walked back, they thought about the star that they lived by, and the evacuation process that had been formed for situations such as these. Oscar thought about what system the species would travel to, and what all would be different.

“Do you think that we will still have something like the Sitting Garden at our new planet?” asked Kate. She was the one who showed them the Sitting Garden. On the first week of Education System 7, Kate found her friends and told them of the most amazing place she had ever seen. They walked down with their parents to the Sitting Garden Entrance, and walked around the vegetation, fountains, statues, brick pathways, and open areas that brought the Sitting Garden so much life.

“I will miss the Sitting Garden. I wish we could bring it with us to our new planet. Then it would feel just like we were home.” said Kate. She had that look on her face that she had when something was not going well.

“Perhaps if we got a warrant of code 12758, we could legally move the object from one planet to another.” replied James

This was true, but would not change now. James had always been one to look at things as if they were able to be changed. He had grown up like that, he excelled at looking at technology in new ways. Innovation was his specialty. He was the Smart One.

Kate was the person who could make you feel anything. She had that way of communication that not many other people had. She always wins arguments. But that is what they did.

Oscar, he was the one who had a million thoughts going in in his head at once. He rarely spoke out. He was the kind of person that would not let you down, except when he realises that you are the useless person in a group project. He literally has you lie down and take a nap, so as to not have the useless person interrupt.

On his way out, Oscar picked a flower from the Sitting Garden, put it in a containment bag, and went home. The Supernova would not take the whole garden from Kate.

A few months later the government officials announced that everyone was to board the ships. Everyone did, and the planet was evacuated. The ships had many rooms, 1 for each family. Once everyone was on board, the rumbling began. The Ground slowly got further and further away from the window. Everyone looked forward to the Captain. He Said that everyone was to stay in their rooms for the lift off sequence. Everyone did as they were told, and hoped for a better tomorrow.

~ 10 Years Later ~

Oscar looked out the window of his office. He saw the tall buildings, tens of stories tall. Almost all of them were painted a blue gray color. The pops of color in the new city were the luscious trees and light post filled streets. He focused back on his work. He was a worker for the manufacturing organization. He was placing an order that the company had requested. It was a very boring job, but it was his responsibility. He took a final glance at the window, and this time saw something intriguing. It was a small black dot in the sky. Just there. The atmosphere of the planet produced a light green haze, but here was a random black dot. He stood up to look closer. It looked like a meteor. This was odd. The moon base usually shot down all meteors. It seemed to be getting larger as well. Oscar realized that it would crash into the planet. He quickly grabbed his things and ran to the bottom of the building. He told the guards what was happening, and they said they would try to alert everyone.

Meanwhile, James on the moon base, looked at the supposed meteor, and told the officials to shoot it down. They aimed their weapons, and took fire. The object exploded, and a fire of smaller rocks rained down. The intercoms came on.

“Please take shelter immediately. We are experiencing some temporary meteor problems.”

Everyone did as they were told, and sought out shelter. On the moon base, James knew something was wrong. Usually the targets like that were shot down automatically. He and a team went to investigate. They entered the room, and 3 people lay dead on the floor. The system was sabotaged.

“Oh dear.” said one of the shocked guards.

“We seem to have an imposter among us.”

There was then a red alert. The alarms were going off. Everyone was rushing, falling down, trying to get to their station. A huge man made object was rushing their way. It then sent a message to every screen on the planet. It was only a few words, but everyone was aware of what it meant. It said:

“Did you miss us?”

Everyone thought back to the official day of evacuation. Not everyone made it onto a ship. There just simply was not enough room. Some people volunteered to stay behind. Some were just unlucky. Oscars parents were some of those unlucky people.

Back down at the planet, Oscar was rushing towards the nearest shelter. The huge gray metal object slowly loomed closer and closer. It was almost like a bomb of some sort. The planetary guard began to fire at the object, but it only made a small dent. The city was still in a panic. Oscar got caught up in a large crowd of people. The chaos of the crown overwhelmed him, and in their stampede, Oscar Tripped and fell. His arm got most of the fall, but it still hurt. He was not even angry, he just wanted away from the awful thing in the sky. A small pod came down from the large ship, and boarded. Oscar ws silent among the screaming crowd.

The shuttle then engaged audio on the screens it took over.

“Look at this. This is chaos.” said the speaker. The person's voice was calm. Void of all emotion at all. It just stated this, as if it was an average conversation.

“This wouldn’t seem familiar to any of you. All of you were able to board a ship, and escape your problems. Hmm. You all make me sick. Nobody here is coming to oppose this little visit of ours.”

Everyone was silent now. The children all looked, awed and terrified at this person's words.

“My message to all of you is simple. 1,700 people are still significant, even out of 12 billion. Now, my life is almost meaningless, so I have one last act.” He signalled to the ship. The ship responded. And then grew very hot. It then exploded. The ball blinded Oscar. He couldn’t witness the final moments of his life. The ship detonated with an incredible bang. So loud, it shook the doomed planet. Someone grabbed his hand. It was Kate. Oscar’s final act was giving a flower, the one he had picked 10 years ago. then it all went black

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sebkijk · 3 years

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Zack Snyder’s Justice League (2021) - Movie Review | SebKijk

This movie review was originally published on: https://sebkijk.nl.

Zack Snyder’s Justice League is finally here. I can joyfully say that this movie has been well worth the wait. This movie is truly amazing. Not only is this my favorite DC Comics movie since The Dark Knight, but it is also one of my favorite superhero movies of all time. I’m just going to say it. Zack Snyder’s Justice League is also one of my favorite movies of all time. It is currently my number one movie of 2021. I have to limit my enthusiasm so I don’t just type in capital letters full of joy, but nonetheless, I’m going to fervently tell you why this movie is simply epic. My thanks to Warner Home Video and Day One MPM for their cooperation and screener copy of the film.

Synopsis Zack Snyder’s Justice League

In Zack Snyder’s Justice League, we see how Bruce Wayne is determined to make sure that Superman’s ultimate self-sacrifice was not futile. That’s why he teams up with Diana Prince. Together they try to form a team of meta-humans that can protect the world from an upcoming threat of catastrophic proportions. The task proves tougher than imagined for Bruce, as each member must deal with their own demons before they can form an unparalleled team of heroes together. United, Batman, Wonder Woman, Aquaman, Cyborg and The Flash may not be up to the task of saving the planet from the cruel plans of Steppenwolf, DeSaad and Darkseid.

Snyder’s Vision

I want to take a moment to talk about the making of Zack Snyder’s Justice League. This film is the director’s cut of the 2017 American superhero film Justice League. It’s directed by Zack Snyder – duh! The film reflects the original and true vision of director Zack Snyder. Zack Snyder outlined his visionary foundation for the DC Extended Universe with his films Man of Steel (2013) and Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice(2016). Snyder’s original plan was to create a five-film arc. The films Man of Steel and BvS were to be succeeded by a Justice League trilogy. Snyder’s original vision was to show the dark and epic mythological side of superheroes.

This did not please everyone – including myself. I am not exactly a fan of Man of Steel, but I could appreciate BvS. However, I have only seen the theatrical version of this movie and not the Ultimate Cut. This ultimate version is also, according to many, the better version. After seeing Zack Snyder’s Justice League, I have also been itching to see this Ultimate Cut. Batman v Superman was mainly poorly received due to its dark tone, slow pace and lack of humor. Distributor Warner Bros. reconsidered changing the tone of the upcoming DCEU films, including the Justice League film which at the time was a month away from shooting.

Reshoots & other Difficulties

The shooting of Justice League began in April 2016 and concluded in December of that year. Months later, multiple versions of Snyder’s Justice League were shown to Warner Bros. executives. These executives considered these versions to be unwatchable. For this reason, Warner Bros. hired director Joss Whedon. Whedon had worked on superhero movies before. For example, he is the director of the Marvel Studios films The Avengers (2012) and Avengers: Age of Ultron (2015). He was hired to rewrite the script and help with extensive reshoots. CEO Kevin Tsujihara determined that Justice league should not exceed two hours in length, and Warner Bros. also decided not to push the release date. This made it more difficult for the filmmakers to finish the film properly. Zack Snyder was expected to film the scenes that Whedon rewrote.

They worked together until Zack Snyder’s daughter Autumn killed herself in 2017. Zack Snyder continued working on Justice League for two more months to distract himself, but finally stepped down in May. His wife – and producer of the film – Deborah Snyderalso left the project. Whedon took full control of the production, although Snyder retained directorial control. It is estimated that Whedon’s version used about 10% of the footage Snyder shot. Composer Tom Holkenborg was also replaced by Danny Elfmanmidway through post-production. The scenes Whedon wrote or reshot for the theatrical release had a different tone and more humor. In addition, the level of violence was reduced in Snyder’s darker direction.

#ReleasetheSnyderCut

More than 90 minutes of Snyder’s footage was removed, but the result still remained the basis of the story. Although the initial cut was poorly received by test audiences, the early screening of Whedon’s cut scored as high as the first Wonder Woman film. For this reason, Warner Bros. decided to go ahead with it. Justice League was released in theaters in November 2017. Many critics and fans were disappointed. The film was described as one in which the work of two different directors – with competing visions – totally failed to come together. Warner Bros. lost about $60 million with this film, according to Deadline Hollywood. Fans rebelled against this version of the Justice League film and created an online petition to see Zack Snyder’s vision of the film.

The movement to see the Snyder Cut continued to grow tremendously on social media under the hashtag #ReleaseTheSnyderCut. On May 20, 2020, Zack Snyder announced that his version of Justice League would be released on HBO Max in 2021. Fans around the world reacted to this news with enormous happiness. Additional scenes were shot in October 2020 that featured cast members such as Ben Affleck, Henry Cavill and Ray Fisher. In January 2021, it was announced that Snyder’s version of the film was completely finished. So this film has a long history, but how glad I am that this film still came out.

Zack Snyder’s Justice League is DC’s Crowing Achievement

Zack Snyder’s Justice League feels like an epic comic book movie adaptation that evokes profound emotions. The film may be longer than 4 hours, but the strong quality makes it feel even too short. Snyder put his full vision and passion into his version of Justice League. The film is full of scenes that you’ll have not seen before. These are not only incredible action or mythological scenes, but also storylines where more empathy is generated for the characters. All the main and supporting characters are more strongly underpinned with backstories and motives in this film. Even a weak villain like Steppenwolf is much better fleshed out in Zack Snyder’s version of Justice League. As a viewer, I almost couldn’t believe it, but Steppenwolf genuinely came across as a danger to the heroes. In the 2017 Justice League film he looks and acts like a joke.

The villain’s design may be slightly over-the-top, but in terms of visual effects and CGI, it is certainly as good as the Marvel villain Thanos. Zack Snyder’s Justice League feels like DC’s epic. This is their answer to franchises like the Marvel Cinematic Universeand The Lord of the Rings. Zack Snyder’s Justice League is grandiose, spectacular and exceptionally deep. For example, the character elaborations are so good that as a viewer you start to care about fairly weird DC characters like Cyborg and Aquaman. Your empathy is not only created by the strongly written story and great acting. The camera work and editing also provide many symbolic shots that develop the characters.

Zack Snyder’s Justice League is the Better Version

Take for example shots where Cyborg is looking out of a broken window. This symbolizes the fact that this is a broken character with a damaged view of the world. Each superhero gets a chance to steal the show, in that each character is much more fun and better than the characters in Whedon’s version. The Snyder Cut is simply a dream come true. Not only for Snyder, but also for the fans. For those who weren’t already aware; in my opinion, Zack Snyder’s version of Justice League is way better than the 2017 version. The film may be very long (and, according to some, slow), but this does not take away from the fact that the added material has a purpose. It doesn’t just consist of extra fan-service scenes.

These new additions serve a purpose and do not feel like a weakening of the material. On the contrary – it strengthens the entire film and its supporting characters. In Joss Whedon’s version, the superheroes only come together because it’s a superhero movie. In Zack Snyder’s version, the choices and motives are so much better substantiated. As a viewer, you believe that these characters must come together to stop the enemies. This is due to the sincerity of the new scenes. You get to see how these characters must learn to appreciate and understand each other. You get to see how they must learn to function as one team. According to some critics, the story still does not feel earned. The reasoning behind these criticisms rests mainly on the idea that all the characters should have been worked out in solo films first.

Unnecessary Criticism and Minor Flaws

While I can appreciate the idea of previous solo films, I personally think this is bad criticism. It is not based on what the end product is, but on what the end product should have been according to the reviewer. In my opinion, this is not how (film) criticism should work, even though I sometimes understand the urge to review like this. Of course, every reviewer is free to write however they want. The problem is that these critics allow their written opinion to be presented as the truth, when in fact it is their personal opinion. Still, I must say that I (also) have some minor problems with Zack Snyder’s Justice League. For example, there is an overuse of slow-motion scenes in the first and last hour of the film. This can get quite irritating at certain points, but that’s a personal taste issue.

In addition, the CGI and special effects don’t look quite finished at some points. For me, these are the only two minor points that I would like to criticize. Other than that, I for one thoroughly enjoyed Zack Snyder’s Justice League. Also, the work of composer JunkieXL is simply brilliant. It brings together musical themes from different films and characters perfectly. The acting by the entire cast is top notch. In this movie I particularly enjoyed Ray Fisher, Ezra Miller and Ben Affleck. The powers of the superheroes are also used to their full creative potential. This makes for spectacular scenes full of action and suspense. After watching Zack Snyder’s Justice League, I have a huge desire to re-watch Man of Steel and BvS. It has also created desire where I hope Zack Snyder gets to continue and finish his vision for this franchise.

Conclusion

Normally I write an extensive conclusion, but I only want to say two things briefly now. My thanks to Zack Snyder. Not only for creating a top-notch movie, but also for continuing your original vision. And also I hope Zack Snyder can make his two other Justice League movies. In short – #RestoreTheSnyderVerse.

★★★★★

#zack snyder #justice league #snyderverse #deborah snyder #snyder cut #zack snyders justice league #justice league 2021 #sebkijk

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hansoulo · 4 years

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“A pandemic has taken the lives of more than 100,000 Americans and put more than 30 million out of work, and to top it off, there has been an almost 30-day, caught-on-tape spree of police and vigilante violence against black people. For some, it may feel like the nation is on the brink of near-biblical levels of chaos.

The responses across the nation, whether you call them riots (and you shouldn’t) or whether you call them protests, uprisings, unrest, or rebellions, are being covered by local and national news and social media. As a journalism professor who has studied and experienced media coverage of protests for years, I have watched repeatedly how poorly these events are conveyed by the media and understood by the public. Here’s what people watching the news must understand in order to get what’s truly going on, and keep your faith in America nominally intact in the process.

First, it’s important to understand the mandate of the news, and that is to get eyeballs on the screen, whether that is your television screen or the one in your hands. Networks focus on spectacle: fires, people crying, and broken windows, instead of the larger story. In most cases (such as with the Ferguson, Missouri, and Baltimore, Maryland, protests a few years ago), property damage and fires are limited to a small area, and even during those times many people are just milling about, but shaking camera angles and tight shots want you to believe that every reporter is an extra in Saving Private Ryan and every protest looks like Kanye’s “No Church in the Wild” video.

In reality, these protests are usually not completely consumed with chaos. Nighttime coverage will seldom show a full city map demonstrating that, two blocks over from a street that looks like a “city engulfed in flames,” there’s a CVS still open for business. The press flocking to dramatic images as a protest metaphor is not a new phenomenon.

Further, much of the property damage attributed to protesters is often the result of police action or inaction in the face of lawful public behavior, something I’ve witnessed from Ferguson to the far-right protests in Charlottesville, Virginia. Tear gas canisters can still burn your hand hours after they’ve been launched by police, flares are thrown by riot response teams with reckless abandon, let alone live munitions and flash grenades.

Sometimes buried at the end of post-protest reports by local authorities is the fact that police munitions often start fires at protests, but this is seldom reported by the press, and there have been surprisingly few protesters arrested for arson relative to the fires that erupted during the unrest. Which is more likely to set row houses ablaze, three teenagers in face masks with “No Justice, No Peace” signs or two smoldering tear gas shells sitting on a pile of dry leaves and newspaper for two hours?

This is not to suggest that some protesters don’t cause violence or property damage, but observers, let alone journalists, should be making distinctions between the various actors that are actually on the scene during civil unrest. You have the aforementioned police who are armed. Then you have chaos agents and anarchists who infiltrate peaceful protests with their own agenda. This isn’t conspiracy theory; in Minneapolis alone, videos have emerged of strangely dressed people just engaging in wanton property destruction. No one knows who they are, but it seems unlikely that they are protesters.

Then you have your run-of-the-mill opportunistic criminals. When the police are so occupied harassing and corralling peaceful protesters and the streets are filled with smoke, it’s pretty easy to break into a Verizon store, a beauty shop, or a grocery store and take what you want. These people are often conflated with actual revolutionaries, who are protesters that target actual structures and symbols of abuse and oppression. For protesters who are angry about violent, unaccountable police in Minneapolis, overtaking and burning down the Third Police Precinct is a specific act of revolt. This is a fundamentally different action than using the chaos from two blocks over to raid a liquor store.

And, of course, none of these actors should be confused with the hundreds of men and women peacefully protesting who are usually subjected to violent reprisals by police. Which is why “they’re burning their own community” narratives are so misleading and dangerous. It’s irresponsible to not distinguish which “they” is being talked about.

Which brings us to perhaps the most important thing to understand about how to watch protests: the context of what kind of protest garners police response. Over the past three months, the 24-hour cable networks have extensively covered mostly white armed men and women threatening police and politicians at state capitols across the nation over coronavirus lockdown policies.

How often have you seen police in riot gear? In fact, police seldom use force or even present in force (protest shields, black helmets, etc.) when conservative or right-wing groups protest. When is the last time you saw a group of anti-abortion activists get tear-gassed? Yet with left-leaning groups, and especially groups of minorities, their protests are often met with shows of force. Right-wing groups spit in the faces of police in regular gear in Michigan, while SWAT teams show up like Storm Troopers for chanting teens in Minneapolis.

This lack of context is even more corrosive when national press coverage chooses one staging area of protest over another. People are marching in Phoenix, Arizona; Columbus, Ohio; and New York City in solidarity with George Floyd, and in Brunswick, Georgia, for Ahmaud Arbery, and in Louisville, Kentucky, for Breonna Taylor. Seven people were shot during the Louisville protests, but 24-hour news coverage is blanketed with images of burning buildings in Minneapolis as if that’s the default of protests instead of the outlier.

So what should be your main takeaway as an American concerned about the future of the country? Protests are not simply stories of “good guys” and “bad guys” no matter where you fall on the political spectrum. There are actors all operating simultaneously, and all too often local and even national reporting only covers the story of the local politicians and police who have a vested interest in presenting themselves as overwhelmed and beleaguered as opposed to negligent and incendiary.

Former Minneapolis officer Derek Chauvin, who pinned George Floyd by placing his knee on the man’s neck for almost nine minutes, has been arrested and charged with murder and manslaughter by local authorities. By all accounts, whether it’s Minneapolis (or Louisville or Brunswick), if the police and vigilantes who committed these acts of violence were consistently arrested and charged, it’s highly likely that these protests would be less volatile.

More importantly, the focus and amplification of property damage over the lost lives that sparked unrest to begin with is a reflection of the press’s ghoulishly misplaced priorities. As a news consumer, you don’t have to feed the beast. You can choose to follow men and women on the ground covering events as concerned citizens. You can sift through the dross of hot-taking, moralizing pundits and pay attention to the data on the ground about what causes protests. (This was all but predicted five years ago.) You can refuse to submit to goodthink and stop using words like riot, protest, and resistance interchangeably.

In other words, you can be a sincere, informed American citizen, and recognize that your fellow Americans are hurting and expressing their pain. It does not have to be filtered and sanitized through the state or the press to be legitimized.”

#blm #black lives matter #justice for george floyd

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xsparklingravenx · 4 years

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the broken mirror

Title: the broken mirror

Fandom: Persona 5 Royal

Characters: Goro Akechi, Akira Kurusu

Rating: T

Word Count: 5,582

Summary: “Get to the point, Akira,” Akechi said, his name dripping from his mouth like poison. “We both know that you didn’t blow up my phone with notifications for a simple outing.”

“No, I didn’t,” Akira replied, so slow to speak. It reminded him a little of himself, selecting words for the best possible outcome, wearing a thousand different masks to hide his true self. “But what I want to discuss, it’s not something we should do over text. Or phone.”

Major spoilers for the entirety of the third semester. Akechi and Akira, and the truth of the world through one set of eyes.

AO3

The first time Akechi’s phone rang that evening, he ignored it.

It buzzed through the wood on the table, shifting as it vibrated and lit up, casting a light on the cracked ceiling of his shitty rented apartment. The pi-pi-pi noise of its incessant ringtone made him wrinkle his nose in disgust, but it was an easy thing to forget. The laptop in front of him, containing all his notes on their current situation, commandeered the majority of his attention.

Reality was a mess. He was back from the dead through unknown means. A paltry conversation with a paltry human being was the last thing on his mind.

The second time his phone rang, he spared a careless glance its way. Careless, because he knew who was calling, and careless, because he knew it would destroy any of his focus. There was only one person who had his number who would actively call him, and unsurprisingly, it was his name that had flashed up.

KURUSU AKIRA.

Akechi stared at the phone until it stopped ringing again, the screen fading back to its usual, factory-set background image. Most other teenagers his age had images set there. Takamaki, he knew, had a picture of herself and that girl who had been involved in the Kamoshida case. Sakura had a group shot of the entire cast of Featherman R. Even Akira himself had a photo set there, a ridiculous picture of Morgana gorging himself on the largest plate of fatty tuna that Akechi had ever seen in all eighteen years of his life.

In the silence he tapped away at his keyboard, connecting theories and cross-checking intel. Takuto Maruki’s name was scattered about like a constellation across his document. As his phone screen switched off, he was left mostly in the darkness, only the light of his laptop screen left to illuminate the room.

The third time his phone rang, he blocked the number.

It was an easy thing to do. He reached over, unlocked the screen, and with a few taps Akira Kurusu was barred from contacting him. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it, and it wouldn’t be the last. Sometimes, when he left too many messages on read in the Phantom Thieves’ group chat, the members would individually leak into his private messages. Never Sakura or Okumura, but sometimes Takamaki, or Yoshizawa, and always, always Akira.

It went in cycles. They’d contact him and he’d block them. Then he’d require them, and he’d unblock them, enter their group chat, and lurk in the shadows. They were not friends. They were not even teammates. They were colleagues at best, their relationship one based out of a mutual need to solve their current predicament, and nothing more.

That meant he didn’t need unnecessary distractions.

He returned to his work. Websites, tabs. The Phan-site’s question was stark against his backlit screen. WOULD YOU JOIN THE PHANTOM THIEVES?

He scoffed, scrolled down, and then slammed his laptop lid shut. In the darkness, he grabbed his phone, unlocking the screen again to stare at Akira’s name.

“Who’s more pathetic?” he asked. “You for continuing this ridiculous charade, or me for letting you?”

No answer, because Akira wasn’t a mind reader, as much as he seemed like one.

No answer, because Akechi had blocked his number.

No answer, because Akechi didn’t want to give him the opportunity to give one anyway.

Akechi didn’t have fond memories. Tolerable memories, yes, but fond memories pushed it. Fond memories suggested that he’d formed an attachment to them, which was an impossibility. He made sure to keep a healthy distance away from anything that might have tampered with his mission, or, anything that might have twisted his view of the world. He achieved that through cool detachment, masked by his cheery, ace-detective persona, his flawless disguise.

One of those tolerable memories happened to involve Akira Kurusu and a jazz bar, the songstress’s dulcet tones melting into the air as they both tended to their non-alcoholic beverages of choice. Akechi’s was sweet. It wasn’t that he favoured that particular taste over anything else on the menu, but multiple people at school had mentioned the flavour. He jumped on the trend like he did all others; quickly, and without thinking.

“Is it good?” Akira said. “Your drink, I mean.”

“I can certainly see why it’s popular,” Akechi lied. “All these flavours, exploding on my tongue…truly, a delectable experience. I suppose that’s what is needed to appeal to the masses, though. Something that is universal, that can be really enjoyed.”

“You’re funny, you know,” Akira said, swishing the little cocktail umbrella that the waiter had put in his drink. He had that smirk on his face, the one that screamed that he was trouble. Hell in a handbasket. A devil wearing human skin.

“Oh? Certainly the people who chat about me online seem to think so.”

“No, not like that.” Akira leant back in his chair, sipping his drink slowly, savouring each drop. “It’s the way you use words. You fire them off like they’re infinite ammo in a video game.”

It was easy to figure out a response for something like that. Inwardly, Akechi thought that Akira was a fool. Outwardly, he grinned, several blocks of laughter falling from his lips. To the trained ear, it might have sounded artificial, but Akechi could blame that on the TV studios, on the fact that he needed that laugh to appeal to the millions who watched him from afar. “Are you trying to tell me that I’m babbling, Kurusu-kun?”

Akira watched him over the top of that tiny umbrella, the low-light of the jazz bar reflected off his glasses. Fake, of course, much like his honest high-schooler act, but then, who was Akechi to judge based on appearances? “No, I’m just saying that maybe you could do with being more honest.”

It was more difficult to formulate a response for a statement like that. In the half-second he had to think one up, Akechi ran through a thousand potential reactions. More laughter? Stare in shock? A question in response? A joking answer? There was no way that Akira could know the truth behind him, behind his actions or his words or his façade. There was no need to be worried, but selecting the perfect comeback was vital. He needed to keep him in his pocket, or everything would be over.

In the end, joking answer won out. With a grin, Akechi said, “Why, I don’t know what you mean. What would make you think I’m lying?”

“Just something I was thinking,” Akira said, giving the most subtle of shrugs. “All those words just makes what you’re saying difficult to follow, like you’re diverting. That, and you’re wrinkling your nose every time you take a sip. If you hate it that much, don’t drink it.”

Akechi put the glass down, his own paper umbrella bobbing in the liquid. Hate was too strong a word for such an innocuous thing. Hate was a word reserved for Shido, for the foster families who had made his life living hell, for the people who dared try and stand in his way as he did all he could to make his world manifest.

Hatred was what he felt towards Akira Kurusu. The drink? That had done nothing wrong other than being a little off for his tastes. Akira? Oh. He’d done everything.

“It would be a waste,” Akechi said. “And I’m certain that there must be something to like about it. My classmates often speak of this flavour.”

Akira laughed then, a genuine brand unlike Akechi’s bootlegged version. “And if your classmates said that the fall from Skytree was amazing, would you still take the leap?”

Akechi nearly scowled then, only just covering it up at the last moment. “Are you suggesting that I’d endanger my own life for the whims of others? I’m afraid not, Kurusu-kun. Still, what a drastic change in conversation, all over a simple drink. Tell me then, is yours any better?”

Leaning close, Akira offered his drink to Akechi, pressing the glass into his gloved hand as he snatched the sweet drink off the table. It was a simple exchange, one beverage for another, and yet Akira remained close. “Try it for yourself.”

He downed the rest of Akechi’s drink in one go. All of that sickly-sweet fizz, gone in a moment. Akechi looked at the drink he’d been handed, the one he hadn’t chosen for himself, and simply shook his head in an exasperated show. “Well, I never have been one to turn down a challenge.”

Putting the glass to his lips, he tipped his head back. The fruity mix washed away the saccharine flavour of what he’d had before, a refreshing, yet unexpected taste. When he was finished, he put the glass down on the table, meeting Akira’s expectant gaze.

“So,” Akira said. “What did you think of that one?”

Akechi leant his elbow on the table and rested his head in his hand. With his left hand, he plucked the umbrella from the now-empty glass, regarding it with disinterest as he said, “It was good.”

He couldn’t see Akira past his focus on the tiny, paper accessory. That meant he definitely didn’t see the self-assured smirk on his face.

It took him half an hour to unblock the number. Half an hour of opening and closing the lid of his laptop. Half an hour of getting up to check the window and then sitting back down. Half an hour of locking and unlocking his phone, checking social media idly instead of doing the work he knew should be taking priority.

It took another fifteen minutes for the first text to show up.

KURUSU AKIRA 9:33

Have you unblocked me yet?

Perceptive, but not a mind reader, Akechi reminded himself. He sat at the table, staring at the screen a while before finally resigning himself to a begrudging answer.

AKECHI GORO 9:37

I’d congratulate you on your clever insight, but we both know that’s bullshit. Regrettably, you’re just good at figuring out patterns. What were you doing for the last half hour? Sending that text every time I crossed your mind?

He set the phone on the table and tried to ignore it. There was no immediate reply. Back when he’d been a part of the Phantom Thieves the first time, there were often long swaths of time before anyone would get back to him when he offered up information in the group chat. Now he knew that they likely had a second one to scheme against him, to laugh at how he was such a fool for falling into their well laid trap. It wasn’t something that stung. He’d been the one who had set out to betray them, after all.

When his phone vibrated again, he sighed. There was Akira’s name once again, because he didn’t know how to leave things well alone. A blight on the background-less screen that Akechi was so used to.

KURUSU AKIRA 9:38

Something like that.

His responses were always infuriatingly short. It wasn’t something he reserved for Akechi, he seemingly treated everyone that way, group chat or not. Akechi deliberated on whether or not to send a follow-up, which turned out to be a mistake. In the time he spent trying to figure out what on earth to say, his phone started ringing again, buzzing through the wood.

He hit the busy button immediately.

AKECHI GORO 9:40

I’m not picking up. Stop wasting your time.

Responding to him was defeating the point entirely, but Akechi was already a lost cause in that regard. He chuckled, low and bitter, his right hand brushing through his hair to grip at it as he leant over the phone, the little bubble indicating that Akira was typing popping up instantly. It felt like a game. An illicit game that he should have had no interest in playing.

KURUSU AKIRA 9:41

So you want to talk over text only?

AKECHI GORO 9:41

I’d rather not speak to you at all.

KURUSU AKIRA 9:42

Says the one who came to me when the world went to hell.

Akechi’s fingers ghosted over the keyboard, but he didn’t actually type anything. He wanted to snap at Akira, to tell him that he'd gone to him because he was the only one who’d retained his sanity. He didn’t, because raging at someone didn’t have quite the same effect when it was done via toneless messaging.

His fingers itched for his sword. How he wanted to call upon Loki and fight like a beast in the confines of the Meta-verse. He’d spent years venting that way. Blood spilled in his quest to feel like a human being, only it never worked. He only ever felt like more of a monster, a monster he enjoyed being.

The phone buzzed again. Akechi gazed at the message with resentment gnawing in his gut, at himself, at Akira, he wasn’t entirely sure. Discerning his true feelings wasn’t as easy as it used to be. Once, it had been clear-cut. Once, it had been the world against him, and there had only been one way to survive that; detach, shut-down, hate everything.

Morgana, in his whiny little voice, played on repeat in his ears. You don’t really hate Joker, do you?

He switched screens, finger hovering over the block button again. In the end, he switched back, the message still on the screen, plain-as-day.

KURUSU AKIRA 9:45

This is because of what happened today, isn’t it?

In movies, in shows, in fiction, the heroic sacrifice was big. It was showy. In the old reruns of Featherman, often out of order, it still managed to be righteous, to be tragic, to be justified.

For Goro Akechi, it was lonely.

Back to the wall, the one he’d just dropped to stop the Phantom Thieves getting in his way. Shadows and his own cognitive puppet ready to rip him apart, just before him. His own darkened garb a shroud around him, not a shield anymore, but just a shame. A testament to his true, undesirable self.

A toast, to Masayoshi Shido for having a child every bit as ugly as him. Both of them, murderers. Both of them, scum of the earth. Shido might have put the gun in Akechi’s hand, but Akechi had done the deeds. He’d been used, but oh, hadn’t he put himself in that position?

The truth was so; in those final moments, he wondered if he’d been wrong. To decry the Phantom Thieves for believing so strongly in their bonds, to turn on them as savagely as he had. All along, Akechi had hid his jealousy and envy of Akira behind sugared smiles and soft words. He was everything he wanted to be. He had everything he’d ever wanted.

Taking the bullet for them, letting them run, it was no selfless act. It was one last ditch attempt to be the hero in a story that he’d chosen to play the villain in, and even then, karma had to be a bitch about it. What was supposed to be a magnificent death in a blaze of glory was instead a lonely, bitter end for the ace-detective who had given his all to revenge.

(It was not, and never had been for Akira. Morgana’s words rang hollow. Crow and Joker, Akechi and Akira, they were each other’s antithesis, that was how it was supposed to be. To give his life for his after everything would have been laughable.)

Or at least, that was what he remembered. When he came to, it was Christmas Eve and Shido had been taken down. Sae Nijima was talking about getting Akira to turn himself in across the street, and Akechi, with no memory of how he’d gotten there or how he’d even survived the cruise ship, had marched straight over and taken the metaphorical bullet for him a second time.

It was what he thought about all those nights later, after he’d sought out Akira and Maruki had taken Yoshizawa hostage. As he laid in bed, phone on his pillow at his side, he knew it was that which had tipped him off that something was wrong.

His version of sacrifice meant that he was destined to be lonely, forgotten, discarded. And yet, in turning himself into Sae, he’d found a sense of satisfaction, like finally, finally, he’d done something right.

He’d turned himself in not for his own sick sense of righteousness, but he’d done it for Akira—and there was no way that life would be so kind as to grant him the opportunity to save him. Not in a way that would save them both.

His phone was ringing again.

The ringtone was an annoyance, something he needed to change before it grated too badly on his nerves and he threw the entire thing at the wall. Akira’s name flashed up once more like a curse. The block button was nearby. A single tap of it, and he could open his laptop and stare at the Phan-site’s question for another twenty minutes instead of working.

He answered the call.

“I didn’t expect you to pick up,” came Akira’s voice, crystal clear on the other end.

“Yeah, well,” Akechi said. “I didn’t expect you to try calling again. You’re a fool, Joker. It’s quite tiring.”

No energy to it. He didn’t have much to inject in his voice anymore, not unless they were in the midst of fighting Shadows, anyway. That kind of mania he couldn’t hope to reclaim in his day-to-day. There wasn’t any point in it anyway.

He heard Morgana’s voice in the background, asking if Akira was talking to Akechi, asking after him like he was part of their ridiculous little team, like his well-being mattered. Akira’s voice broke away from the receiver for a moment as he answered the first question, and then came close instead of answering the second.

“Don’t call me that when we’re not on a mission,” Akira said. Akechi laughed humourlessly. “We’re not Joker and Crow when we’re here.”

“Would you prefer Kurusu-kun then? Or, perhaps Akira, seeing as we’re on such amicable terms now? Why, I’ll even let you refer to me as my given name, if that’s what you wish.”

“Akechi—” Akira cut himself off, and Akechi felt him wince down the line. “Call me whatever you want, as long as it isn’t Joker.”

“The same to you,” Akechi replied, drumming his fingers against the table. It felt so real beneath his touch. Or was it that he felt real against it? “Come now, Akira. You didn’t call me up to make small talk. Get to the point.”

A hesitant moment. How odd. Akira wasn’t the type to think twice. “Are you free tonight?”

He had a date with the Phan-site, but that wasn’t going all that well. Lots of staring on his end, and no answers for it when it asked him questions. His document on Maruki was a lost cause. “That depends on what you’re about to ask me.”

“Penguin Sniper. There’s a billiards table with our name on it.”

His offer sounded too good to be true. There was a moment when he wondered, maybe it is. Maruki was offering them the world on a silver platter. But no. It wasn’t perfect just yet. There were still flaws in Akira’s reality, still flaws in his own. Akira hadn’t called him up with billiards in mind. There was something going unspoken in this simple back and forth.

“Get to the point, Akira,” Akechi said, his name dripping from his mouth like poison. “We both know that you didn’t blow up my phone with notifications for a simple outing.”

Akechi should have left the number blocked. He should never have turned to Akira for help. He should have died in the halls of the cruise ship, lonely and forgotten.

Gritting his teeth, he said, “You just don’t know when to give up, do you?”

“I can be there in half an hour. What about you?”

Back to the wall, only this time, it was Akira instead of the Shadows. There was a certain species of delight to be had in this game of cat and mouse. He could escape. He could run. All it would take would be a single tap of a button. End the call. Move on.

“I’ll be there,” Akechi said. “Don’t make me regret this, Akira.”

Tokyo felt distinctly unreal as he travelled through it. It was like he was passing through a bubble, everything distorted and swimmy, a film over Shibuya and the people within it. His head had felt much the same lately, his emotions filtered through that lens, Akira through that odd sheen.

The trains were bustling, yet not packed. Akechi tucked himself into the corner, arms crossed tight against his chest, and switched stations whenever needed. When the announcer’s voice rang out, telling the passengers that they’d arrived in Kichijoji, he got off and prayed he wouldn’t run into Akira until they’d both arrived at Penguin Sniper.

Fate was not so kind. As he headed up the steps and got his phone out to pass through the barriers, he saw a familiar head of black hair waiting on the other side, head dipped down towards his bag. No doubt speaking with Morgana. Of course the cat would be here, he never went more than three feet away from him.

Akechi considered turning around and just heading home. Akira lifted his head and locked eyes with him, and Akechi slammed his phone down harder than necessary on the barrier. There was a cut on his cheek, easily mistaken for a small nick, not quite healed even after all the spells his teammates had poured into him. Earlier, it had been a gash that had exposed the cheekbone.

The gate popped open with a ping.

Akira didn’t approach him. No, he kept his distance, but he didn’t look away. Akechi took his time approaching, arms crossed back against his chest, his teeth grinding together. He felt very much like a puppet on strings being marched to certain death, only death looked a lot like Akira Kurusu and his gleaming glasses.

“You actually came,” Akira said.

“I told you I’d be here.”

“We thought you might have just said that to get us off your back.” Akira led him out of the station. As soon as they were out in the night air, Morgana hopped out of the bag, stretching himself out. Akira said, “You’re heading off?”

“Yeah, just make sure you’re back before too late! And you,” Morgana steeled Akechi with those bright blue eyes of his, giving his tail an indignant shake. “You better not try anything. You hear me!”

“Your request has been duly noted.” Akechi said. He watched as the cat disappeared into the night. “Well, now we’re alone, you may as well say your piece. Though I don’t understand why I had to come all the way out here to hear it.”

“No, not yet.” Akira pushed his glasses up his nose and turned. “Penguin Sniper, like I said. I wasn’t joking about the billiards table.”

Akechi grimaced. Penguin Sniper was filled with tolerable memories, as was the majority of the joints here, but that made it all the worse. Beating Akira, being beaten by Akira, touches stolen here and there, a trading of drinks, a duel not quite to the death, an exchange of gloves—the last time they’d played nice before Akechi had betrayed them all, stormed into his interrogation room, and pressed the muzzle of a gun to Akira’s head.

Twisted by the thought of revenge, distorted by his hatred for his dear rival, Akechi had not regretted pulling that trigger. He hadn’t even hesitated. All that mattered was Shido’s downfall, and Akira’s blood was to paint the path that Akechi needed to take to get there.

What was one more death when Akechi’s hands were already so dirty? What was one more death when it was the only person Akechi had ever given a damn about other than Shido? It might have been hate, but hate was just a simple way to describe someone that appealed to your emotions in some form. Positive or not, Akira did just that.

Still, he followed Akira up the stairs to Penguin Sniper, and he didn’t fight back when Akira handed over the 800¥ fee to access the tables. In the end they stood at either end of the table, pool cues in hand, the balls all lined up perfectly, ready to be struck.

“Should I go first?” Akira said.

“Be my guest,” Akechi said. “I didn’t want to play anyway.”

Akira’s grip tightened on the cue. He leant over the table, the curve of his body a perfect silhouette, and Akechi hated himself a little more than Akira for thinking that.

A sharp strike against the ball. They struck one another and scattered across the table, a veritable destruction, and behind Akechi’s eyes, a memory flitted. Earlier that day, Shadows on every side, an ambush they’d been sloppy in the face of. Joker’s Wild Card failing him in the worst way possible, leaving him open to a weakness that he’d not accounted for when taking on that particular Persona. A strike of thunder sending him down like a house of cards in the wind.

“Something on your mind?” Akira said.

Akechi scowled. “Not in the slightest.”

“Same way you like sweet drinks, yeah?”

He could have snapped the pool cue in two. He restrained himself, barely. “If you want to talk about honesty, Akira, how about you start? Take off those glasses and look at me. No more masks, no more distractions. Me and you. Here. Now.”

Akira reached up and removed them. He was sharper without them, blazing, unmasked and brutal edged. His lips quirked upwards, the tiny cut pulling at the movement, and a single word came to mind. Trickster.

“I’m putting my cards on the table,” Akira said. “Your turn, Goro.”

Oh, how sick Akechi was, for his stomach to flip at his name on Akira’s lips. He leant over the table himself, picking the angle, striking the ball once more. Joker had gotten to his feet, swaying. The Shadow had swung its scythe and there wasn’t time to dodge it. Oracle screamed his name from her safe space within Al Azif, and Akechi, despite all his frenzy in a fight, couldn’t get there fast enough to stop it.

The ball hit the others. The Phantom Thieves lost themselves in the blood, panic running through their collective veins as the scythe struck more than once. Skull’s Persona rising above on its ship, Fox’s throwing ice while Queen and Mona’s tore through one healing spell after another. Fire blazed through the ice as Panther charged up, gunfire as Noir held off the ones fast approaching. Violet threw out spell after spell, bless magic crashing down through the Palace, and Akechi felt it sear his skin, felt Loki react.

Akira regarded the scattered balls. Akechi had downed a couple. “Your move, Akira.”

“Earlier,” Akira said. “What happened?”

It still hadn’t been enough. Surrounded as they were, even all those spells couldn’t get them the upper hand, and the one with the scythe was laughing, swinging its weapon like a toy. It was the kind of fight that Akechi lived for. It was the kind of fight Akechi would die for. Joker was on the floor, bleeding despite the magic that was being desperately thrown his way. He could see the flash of white at his cheek through all the red. His shirt was drenched with blood where it had gouged into his chest.

It wasn’t excitement. It wasn’t fun. Anger had flooded him, rage and fury and the desire to kill. That wasn’t unusual. His way of fighting scared the others, the way he took joy in spilling the blood of Shadows disturbed them, but in that moment, it had been different. It wasn’t his spells he called upon in that moment, even as Loki manifested above him.

“I got angry,” Akechi told him, putting the cue down.

His power had taken hundreds of lives, directly, indirectly. Never had it been used to save someone. His own ragged voice had screamed for Loki above the din of the Phantom Thieves’ panicked battle, and without a word, Loki changed his heart for him. Turning himself psychotic, it was a small price to pay. He tore through the scythe-wielding Shadow with a deranged cackle, throwing himself into the firing line of not only their enemies, but their allies also.

Fire and ice, lightning and wind, psychokinetics and nukes. All of it he took in his stride as he slashed and tore and cut, bladed edge erasing Shadows the second it touched them. For Joker? Loki laughed. Akechi laughed. What a joke. What a joke.

So lost in the rage, he took the blows like they were penance. They were not his friends, they were Joker’s friends. It didn’t hurt. It didn’t hurt.

Violet screamed, “Crow!”

He ran into the bless spell before he realised what he’d done. The blow of light struck him to the core, making even Loki screech. The world blacked out as the force of it took all of his energy, shaking up his ribcage and his lungs. He went down in an instant, all of the rage swept out of him in one moment.

It only made sense. Life wasn’t kind. There was no way for him to save Joker.

“That was more than anger,” Akira said, stalking across the floor towards him. The billiards had been a ploy, Akechi realised, just a catalyst. “You’re still lying to me.”

“Not lying,” Akechi said. “Do you hear any unnecessary words? Am I talking you in circles, Akira?”

Akira grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket. “You blocked my number, and yet here you are.”

Akechi had awoken in a safe room, sat against the wall with the Panther’s face peering curiously down at him. He looked up at her, watching her expression morph into shock. “You’re awake! Yeesh, you moron! Do you know what you did?”

He pressed a hand to his mask as he cackled. It was a low, broken sound. “Is he dead?” he asked.

“Do I look dead to you?”

Akechi looked up. Joker stood over him with his hands in his pockets, his mouth turned downwards, his gaze icy behind his mask. His cheek was still bleeding a fraction.

“You’re a fine looking ghost, Joker.”

Akira was a different creature in Joker’s skin. He moved like a cat, his emotions more pronounced. It wouldn’t have been incorrect to call the expression coating his face a type of fury with how his lips peeled back. “So are you. Why did you do that?”

For you, Akechi didn’t say. “Because I wanted to run wild.”

Akira said now, “I know that it was a lie, in the Palace.”

Nobody interrupted them. To the rest of Penguin Sniper, they may as well have not existed. Akira’s hands tightened in Akechi’s coat, their distorted reality theirs and theirs alone.

“Tell me something, Akira,” Akechi whispered. “What is it you truly wanted from the world? A companion who would play detective with you? Someone who would play hot-and-cold in this thing we call a friendship? Did you want someone who would give their life for you time and time again?”

“No—” Akira began.

“Someone who would deny it, because you don’t want to admit you’re that selfish?” Akechi grabbed Akira’s jacket in turn. “You have so many friends. So many talented, incredible friends. And yet here I am, back from the dead, not a memory of how I survived in sight.”

Akira, for once, had nothing to say, and Akechi, who was doubting his own memories, who was doubting his own feelings, who was doubting his own actions, knew he’d struck gold.

Wakaba Isshiki, Kunikazu Okumura, Makoto Nijima’s father. Was it any surprise he doubted his own existence too?

Reality pulsed and squirmed beneath them, a broken mirror of an existence, reflecting their cognition the way they wanted to see it. Akechi pulled Akira close, a brush of lips. Love and hate, two sides of the same coin, just like they were. It was what Akira had wanted all along. Maybe it had been what Akechi had wanted at some point, when he’d been real.

“I refuse to be a slave to a false world,” Akechi whispered in his ear. “I hope you feel the same, Akira.”

“I know,” Akira replied. “But, when all this is over, I just—you don’t have to leave. You can stay with us.”

Akechi laughed, genuine—or fake, depending on the perspective. Maruki really did have the right idea. Trap someone in despair and they’d do anything to escape. Trap them in their happiness, and they were putty to be played with, never wanting to leave.

“Tell me that again when we’re done,” Akechi said, picking up the pool cue. “Then we’ll see.”

#Persona 5 #Akechi Goro #Kurusu Akira #Amamiya Ren #Akeshu #P5R #My Writing

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choonlo · 5 years

Text

At the End of the Day

a mark lee Love Alarm!au (love alarm is only a very small factor here)

genre : fluff, mostly angst

wc : 795

5/10/19 ┇11:29 PM

The room was dark.

You shifted on your bed, feeling nothing but coldness despite having your body enveloped by a thick blanket. Lips parting, you let out a sound of frustration. It was raining lightly, the soft rumbling of thunder coming every so often.

You looked at the presents piled up by your closet. You hadn’t opened them yet, as you'd told your guests that you wanted to open them tomorrow instead to. . . “start your day with surprises”. But, of course, that was a lie. You just. . wanted the party to end. As simple as that.

It was your birthday party, yes, but that didn’t mean that you enjoyed it.

Instead, the celebration made you sick. All because one person didn’t show up—or should you say, couldn’t. One person, one reason. You felt guilty, you were being selfish, not considering the efforts your family and friends put into setting everything up for your birthday.

Letting out a sigh, you sat up your bed. You checked your phone for any messages from him, but there was nothing. A frown was evident on your face, you were upset, oh how you wanted to cry. But you didn’t, because you still had hope that he’d come. Your thumb hovered over Love Alarm, why not? The pink screen appeared, along with the familiar ring that brought back so many memories and thoughts of him.

There was a knock on your door.

Your shoulders jumped, and you shot up from your bed. It’s him!

“Baby?” The door opened to reveal your mother. You blinked, oh. She smiled, handing you a small black box. “It’s from Mark, it actually arrived yesterday, but he told me to give it to you after your birthday party.”

That made you feel better.

But it wasn’t enough.

“Th-thank you,” you took it slowly. “Goodnight, mom.”

The woman kissed your forehead and shut the door, once again leaving you alone with your thoughts. You plopped yourself on your bed, eyes locked on the present your boyfriend had sent you. You pulled on the ribbon, eager to see what was inside. Once you’d opened it, you let out a soft laugh. Inside the box was a necklace. The rose gold gem was in a form of heart, gleaming as it reflected the moonlight that peaked through the curtains of your window.

Everything about the gift was a cliche, and you remember that you’d talked to him about not wanting anything typical for a gift. You didn’t care, though. You’d cherish anything that you receive from Mark.

The longer you stared at it, the harder it became to see.

Tears were already spilling from your eyes, your soft sobs muffled by the rain that had gotten stronger. He didn’t need to give you this. All you wanted was him, his presence, nothing else. The warmth from his embrace, his voice, Mark.

“Mark,” you cried, holding the necklace to your chest. “It hurts. . It hurts so much.”

As the lightning flickered outside, along with the strong roars of thunder, you fell asleep with nothing but pain and sadness lulling you to sleep.

6/10/19 ┇1:27 AM

A gentle ring emitted from your phone.

Little after that, the sound of your window being pulled open followed, waking you up.

“Seriously? I’m surprised that you’re not dead yet.” A familiar voice murmured. “I mean, you’re literally inviting murderers into your room, and you’re confused as to why I worry about you so much? Uh, excuse me?”

The bed dipped beside you. You weakly uttered his name, eyes too swollen to see properly. Mark frowned, taking your face into his hands and caressing your cheeks. “Look, I’m not gonna say sorry, because I’m going to end up saying sorry again and again, and you hate it when I say sorry too much.” he babbles, earning a small smile from you.

“You don’t have to cry anymore, Y/N,” his voice cracks, there was a lump in his throat. It pained him to see you like this, and knowing that he’s the reason why you’re always hurt made it worse. “I’m here, baby. I’m here, and I won’t leave you.”

“Mark,” you whimpered, arms tightening their hold around him. “I-I missed you so much. .”

His breath hitched, choking out a sob as tears brimmed his eyes. “I missed you too Y/N, I really did.”

You knew that he’d had to leave again. Maybe not now, but soon. Sometimes you wondered why you had to fall in love with such a successful artist, one who’d always have to travel, one who wouldn’t have enough time to spend with you.

But that didn’t matter.

He was here. Mark was here. And you knew that you’d wait even a million years patiently for him.

Because he was worth it.

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givemebtscenarios · 5 years

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Who Do U Love?-Shownu(M)

Request: Hi! Can I have a smutty request with shownu of Monsta X? Bonus points if it's a rare jealousy scenario? Thanks

Words: 2,860

Your chest heaved up and down as you stared at the ceiling, the flush on your body slowly starting to fade as you closed your legs. Visions of your best friend fading from your mind as the guilt of secretly fantasizing about him filled you up. You caught your breath, rolling over onto your side, wincing slightly at the feeling of your thighs rubbing together after the roller coaster ride you just took yourself on. You closed your eyes; you envisioned yourself with him, laughing as you drove down the street, his hand on your thigh as your fingers were clasped between his. You knew you'd be lying to yourself if you said it was only lust you felt for him; you've known him too long for that. He knew things about you nobody else knew.

Your phone ringing brought you out of your thoughts and you reached up to bring it to your face, seeing the name 'Joohoney' on it along with a honey pot. You slid your finger across the screen and brought it up to your ear.

"Honey pot." you said with a smile, and you heard him chuckle on the other line.

"Hey, beautiful." he said, and you could hear the smirk in his voice.

"What are you doing?"

"I was going to see if I could come over for a bit. I got bored at the house and wanted to hang out with someone. Of course, you were the first person to come to mind."

You grinned at his words, debating on whether you should let him come over or not.

"Yeah, come on. I just bought a movie today and haven't watched it, yet. You can watch it with me." you said, getting up off your bed.

"Ok, good. I'm already outside." he said with a laugh.

"Of course you are!" you said, grinning and hanging up your phone.

You walked to the front door and let him in, taking in his appearance as he walked by you. You bit the corner of your lip as you took in his plain white t shirt and his black skinny jeans. He took his shoes off by the door and walked into your living room, sitting down on the couch and making himself at home. You chuckled and shook your head, walking over to put the movie into the DVD player. You took a seat beside Jooheon, placing your head on his shoulder as the movie started. Your phone vibrated a couple minutes into it, and you looked at your phone to see your best friend's name.

Nunu: Are you busy? Thinking maybe I could come over and we could watch that movie?

You wanted to groan, you wanted to thrash on the couch like a child. You never thought you'd find yourself in this situation. Jooheon didn't like your best friend, simply because Jooheon wanted to get into your pants, and your best friend was messing that up for him. And Hyunwoo didn't like Jooheon because he knew all he was trying to do was get into your pants. Jooheon was great for a quick fuck, but every time he left, you couldn't stop yourself from picturing your best friend. It was like your heart belonged to Hyunwoo, and your pussy belonged to Jooheon.

You: I was actually about to head to bed, I have to get up early in the morning. Tomorrow night?

Nunu: Yeah, that's fine! I'll see you tomorrow night, then.

You locked your phone and threw it to the side, looking up at Jooheon to see him already staring back at you.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, everything's fine." you said, nodding before turning back to the movie.

About an hour into it, you felt Jooheon's hand creep down from your shoulder onto your chest. Your breath caught when he palmed your breast, squeezing it slightly. You heard him exhale sharply from beside you and you took the opportunity to get into his lap, straddling him as your lips met his and your hands went to his hair. He kissed you back with urgency, not waiting too long before picking you up and carrying you back to the bedroom.

When you woke the next morning, you woke up alone as usual. It was normal for Jooheon to leave before you woke up, but it was never long before he was texting you again. Going between his and Hyunwoo's text threads all day nearly exhausted your brain. You had agreed to go out for lunch with Jooheon, although it took forever for the two of you to come up with a restaurant the both of you would enjoy. When it came time to get ready, you didn't do much, just pulling on some jeans and a shirt. You discarded doing your makeup and put your hair up, grabbing your bag as you left your apartment. You walked to the restaurant, your eyes resting upon Jooheon's figure as he waited outside for you. He greeted you with a smile and hug before opening the door and letting you walk in.

The two of you were seated in a corner booth, the open layout of the restaurant laid out before you to take in. You looked at Jooheon in admiration. It took someone extremely good looking to pull off even the simplest of outfits, and no matter what he wore, he always seemed to look like he was heading for the runway at a fashion show. It wasn't until your eyes landed on someone you never thought would be there that you wished you could either disappear or just melt into the floor.

"Y/n, what is it?" Jooheon asked, looking behind him to see Hyunwoo seated with his mom.

"He takes his mom out?" he asked with a snort.

"It's her birthday today." you snapped, glaring at him with your eyebrows furrowed.

You waved at him, a smile trying to tug at the corner of your mouth. He held his hand up, not meeting your eyes before he went back to conversing with his mom. Your face fell, your hand dropping to the table. Your once ravishing appetite had completely vanished, your stomach feeling hollow and uneasy.

"I have to go. " you said, quickly getting up and leaving the restaurant without glancing at Hyunwoo on your way out.

You practically ran home, slamming your door shut before locking it and sitting on your couch. Why did he have to be there right then? Why couldn't he have waited or brought her there earlier? Any chance of being with him that you possibly had, flew out the window the second Hyunwoo laid his eyes on you with another guy. God, and the way you were looking at Jooheon before you saw him there. There's no way in hell he doesn't think the two of you aren't dating. You sat back on the couch, looking at the ceiling, trying to think of something to text Hyunwoo to explain why you were out with another guy. Even though you didn't owe him an explanation.

You sat there for longer than you meant to when you were brought out of your trance by a knock on your door. Thinking it was Jooheon, you yelled out.

"I'm not in the mood, Jooheon. Please, just go home."

"I'm not Jooheon, it's nice to know you'd send him home, though." came a deeper voice from behind your door.

A voice you knew all too well, and a voice that could do unspeakable things to you without him even knowing it. You jumped up and ran to the door, looking out of the peephole to see Hyunwoo standing there, his hands in his pockets. You unlocked the door, opening it to see him towering above you with a small smile on his face.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, looking up at him.

"We're watching that movie tonight, remember?" he asked, looking behind you at the TV.

Shit. How could you have forgotten about that? You stepped aside and let him walk in, his shoes joining a couple pairs of your own at the door. He grabbed the remote to the TV and turned it on as he sat down on the couch. The same exact spot Jooheon had taken up the previous night before he hoisted you up and took you to your bedroom. You sighed and walked over to sit beside him. Your eyes scanned the tv screen as he started the movie up, turning on the subtitles before walking to the kitchen and getting a bag of chips.

"Since you can't hear over the crunching." he said with a small smile, handing the chips over to you.

You gave a small smile back and took the bag from him, laying it on your lap. He laid his arm over your shoulders and you squeezed your eyes shut. As right as this felt, you couldn't bring yourself to enjoy it like you should've. Not with what you did the night before and letting Hyunwoo see you with Jooheon earlier. You wanted to say something to him about it; explain that it wasn't what it looked like and that he didn't mean anything near what Hyunwoo meant to you. That you didn't want to be with Jooheon because you were actually in love with him. The words wouldn't come out of your mouth.

The movie flashed across your face, the lights showing in the reflection of your eyes, but your mind wasn't taking anything in. Your brain was too busy comprehending the thoughts that ran through it at a million miles per second. You didn't realize when the movie wasn't playing anymore until Hyunwoo shook your shoulder and brought you out of your thoughts.

"Are you okay? I've been calling your name for about five minutes." he said, looking down at you.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just really into the movie." you answered with a smile.

"What just happened?"

You looked up at him, your mouth open as if you were going to say something, but you knew he had caught you. He sighed as he turned the tv off and turned around to fully look at you.

"Seriously. What is going on? Is it earlier when you were with Jooheon?" he asked, a sneer trying to come onto his face as he said his name. When you didn't answer, he knew that he was right.

"It's fine that you were with him. I just wasn't expecting him to be the one you started dating. You and Jooheon don't really have that much in common." he said, looking down at his lap.

Your head shot up and your eyes were wide.

"I'm not dating Jooheon."

"You're not? Judging from the way you were looking at him earlier, I would say otherwise."

"I'm not with Jooheon. I'm never going to date Jooheon."

"I bet you're really upset about that, huh?"

Your eyebrows furrowed as he stood up, grabbing his jacket off the arm of the couch.

"What is your problem?! I told you I'm not dating Jooheon. I don't want him! Why are you so jealous?!" you yelled, watching as he started to walk away.

He turned around and rushed to you, grabbing your hips and slamming his lips onto yours. After the shock wore off, you kissed him back urgently, your fingers wrapping themselves in his hair. He picked you up easily, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the kitchen.

"I'm guessing Jooheon had your bedroom last night?" he asked in gasps, setting you on the counter.

You decided to ignore his little quip and tugged his shirt over his head, throwing it to the floor as your hands when to his chest. You moaned as he brought you back into another kiss, your fingertips traveling over his pecs and over his broad shoulders. You moved closer to the edge of the counter and you felt his hands at the hem of your shirt. You leaned back and raised your arms, letting him make your shirt join his. His lips went to your chest as his fingers unclasped your bra. His mouth traveled to the tops of your breasts before he pulled your bra off and threw it. He groaned as he took one your nipples into his mouth, his tongue lighting a line of fire across your skin as he took it between his teeth.

You felt him play with the button of your jeans and you pushed yourself up so he could get them off along with your underwear. He kissed you again as you unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down enough to slide one of your hands in his boxers. He grunted when you wrapped your hand around his cock, squeezing gently. His lips tortured your skin, his hands pushing his jeans down until they reached his ankles. He gripped your thighs, looking up at you, silently asking for permission.

You nodded and he trailed his thumb over your clit, biting his lip when he felt exactly how wet you were.

"Do you get this wet for Jooheon?" he asked quietly, almost as if he didn't mean to say it.

When you didn't answer, he slapped your thigh and forced you to look at him as he repeated his question.

"No. No, Jooheon never made me this wet." you whined.

It was true. Jooheon had never affected your body the way Hyunwoo had. He dragged you closer to the edge and you wrapped your arms around his neck. Without warning, he thrusted himself into you, your eyes squeezing shut and your nails digging into the skin of his neck. He muffled a loud groan against your skin and drew his hips back, only to snap them forward once more. Your body jerked with each thrust, your mouth falling open as soundless moans fell from your lips. He pushed your shoulder until you were laying flat against the counter and he wrapped your legs around his waist.

He hit spots he couldn't hit before with the new angle and your body reacted by tightening your legs around him and grabbing the edge of the counter. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you moaned his name, no other words coming to mind. He grunted and groaned above you, his hands gripping your waist and his eyebrows furrowed as he watched himself disappear inside of you. Sweat gathered on his forehead and one of his hands left your hip to push the hair out of his face.

"Who do you love?" he asked, his lip caught between his teeth.

You were struck speechless for a second, not knowing if he really meant to ask you that.

"Who do you love, y/n? Me or Jooheon?"

His thrusts sped up as he asked, his cock rubbing against your g spot with every thrust. You tried to talk, but words wouldn't come out of your mouth. Your body vibrated against the cool counter top, your breasts bouncing as he thrusted inside you.

"You! I love you, Hyunwoo!" you finally yelled, your nails digging into the skin of his arm as you felt your orgasm build up in your stomach.

"I can feel you tightening around me, baby. You wanna cum, huh?" he asked, gently wrapping his hand around your throat.

You nodded as best as you could, your hips rolling on their own accord as your legs started shaking.

"Hyunwoo, Hyunwoo, please." you begged, looking up at him.

"Only because you said you love me. Now, cum." he said, and your back arched off the counter as your orgasm ripped through you, coating his cock and the counter below you in your juices.

Your pussy tightening around him caused him to reach his own orgasm, growling above you as he slowed his hips down. He pulled out of you, leaning against the sink as he pulled his underwear up. You sat up on the counter and looked over at Hyunwoo, taking in his form and the look on his face.

"Did you mean it?" he asked all of a sudden and you furrowed your eyebrows.

"Did I mean what?"

"When you said you loved me."

"Yes, I meant it." you said, looking up and meeting his eyes.

He walked away from the counter and picked your shirt up, handing it to you so you could slip it back on. He stood in front of you, placing his hands on the counter on either side of you. He brought one hand up and trailed his thumb across your skin, looking into your eyes. He leaned in slowly, looking between your eyes and your lips as if waiting for you to stop him. When you didn't show him any sign of stopping him, he pressed his lips against yours. Your fingers wrapped in his hair as you brought him closer.

He stepped closer, and you could feel him step out of his jeans. You wrapped your legs around him again and he smiled as he picked you up.

"We're gonna change these sheets." he said as he walked back towards your bedroom.

#shownu #monsta x #smut #scenario #hyunwoo #monsta x smut #smut scenario #shownu smut #monsta x scenario #shownu scenario #kpop

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ryanmeft · 5 years

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Five Thoughts: Once Upon a Time in Hollywood

NOTE: this piece contains spoilers. This is your only warning. 1

There’s a cottage industry of films that cater to nostalgia for an older time, and accordingly load themselves up with retro props. Tarantino does this to a degree, but he paints with it. Relatively long stretches of the film are given over to views of Hollywood streets of 1969, and you can appreciate these shots for their artistry even if, like me, you weren’t even a thought at the time. They aren’t played in the hazy, romantic way of a movie designed to trigger memories, which is often a way to cover up a screenplay’s laziness. The signs, marquees, clothes, cars and various miscellaneous accoutrements are gaudy, lavish, and just over-the-top enough without being ridiculous. The film’s look, handled by Tarantino’s regular collaborator Robert Richardson, portrays the excesses of that era as they were.

Leonardo DiCaprio and Brad Pitt share something in common: the older they get, the farther away from heartthrob status they move, the better they become as actors. DiCaprio’s role here is washed-up TV cowboy Rick Dalton, one of those names that was probably not his real one. His former show, Bounty Law, is fictional, but bears all the hallmarks of a western TV show of that era, from the overwrought narration to the way DiCaprio poses heroically before dramatically shooting men down; his opponents are polite enough not to fire until he’s done. Off-screen, he’s an alcoholic who rages at himself more than anyone else, at one point talking to himself in a mirror and threatening his reflection. There’s an extended scene with DiCaprio and a child actor (Julia Butters) that is obviously more Tarantino talking than the characters, but which is fascinating for the same reason the conversation about socks in Million Dollar Baby was: instead of rushing headlong through the plot, it takes time for people just to be people who talk about what they’re reading and how they feel. DiCaprio nails it perfectly, and you actually feel something for this louse.

Pitt, too, seems to have begun to embrace his age, and here uses it to the advantage of his character, Cliff Booth, a stuntman and Rick’s friend, who never got very far in the stunt business due to his cockiness and the impression (never confirmed or denied) that he murdered his wife. If Rick is our window on old Hollywood excess, Cliff is our every man, the person most of us would be---in fact, the person most of us would be lucky to be---if we had chased dewy-eyed dreams to Los Angeles. I suspect Pitt, 55, is not wearing much make-up, allowing his age to show. He has the hangdog look of a working class man who routinely shakes his head at the world he’s found himself in.

Tarantino’s love of trash film is on full display. Said Roger Ebert, paraphrasing Pauline Kael, “The movies are so rarely great art that if we cannot appreciate great trash, we may as well not go.” Tarantino appreciates great trash. I got much amusement simply out of the titles of the movies invented to fill out Dalton’s filmography. The Five Fists of McCluskey. Red Blood, Red Skin. Kill Me Now Ringo, Said the Gringo. Italian film is deservedly renowned for quality, but like any well-formed person, it can laugh at itself, too, and bears a dual reputation for wonderfully satisfying garbage, be it low-budget spaghetti westerns or the fantastically cheesy and exploitative Giallo films. America isn’t spared, either. Bounty Law seems to exist to poke gentle fun at how terrible those old TV shows were (sorry, dad), and Tarantino even sticks DiCaprio into The Great Escape, a classic film that, as we see, could never be made with modern acting styles. Perhaps my favorite use of this was one few will mark: DiCaprio dancing on a 60’s/70’s style variety show that will make anyone under 50 think “They really would watch anything back then.”

You may be going to this film simply because it is Tarantino making it, or because it’s refreshing to have something to see at the multiplex that isn’t made by Disney. You may also be aware that it is set around the events of the real-life Tate-LaBianca murders. Rick and Cliff mostly flirt with the edges of the Manson cult. One of Tarantino’s gifts as a writer here is that he reminds us that as the murders were being planned, life went on elsewhere. Manson himself shows up very briefly, Rick and Cliff pass Roman Polanski and Sharon Tate as they drive, and people such as Steve McQueen and Mama Cass show up for a few minutes or even a fleeting few seconds. Tarantino puts the events in context, even if it is in service of his obsessive need for pop culture references. There are, however, two scenes which bring us closer to the real events. In one, Tate, played by Margot Robbie as an ordinary woman and not a walking tragedy, visits a theatre to watch one of her own movies; I believe the film, The Wrecking Crew, is shown in its original form, with the actual Tate, and certainly the actual Dean Martin. In the second, Pitt’s Cliff visits the Manson ranch to check on a friend, and it is one of those scenes where Tarantino proves he is more than shock. Expertly planned in the style of Hitchcock, the tension builds unbearably, and terrible consequences are thwarted only narrowly and by good fortune.

Like Inglourious Basterds, the film is revisionist history, and if you saw that one you might have some idea how this one ends. Surely, scolds and nags will wave their fingers at Tarantino over the fact that Cliff and Rick (and dog Brandy) prevent the Tate-LaBianca murders by killing the would-be assailants; it won’t improve their impressions that it happens in the most brutal way possible, with every bit of Tarantino’s penchant for over-the-top violence on display. Of course, if the director cared what his detractors thought, he wouldn’t be him. Whatever you think of the scene, there is no doubt it is perfectly and hilariously executed; the laughter of the audience comes not just from the insane nature of the violence, but from the admitted cathartic thrill. Tarantino is allowing us to see what is a major fantasy of most of us: the ability to go back in time and prevent a horrific act while visiting that same intended brutality on the perpetrators. It is the “If you could kill baby Hitler” quandary, except for Tarantino there doesn’t seem to be any moral hesitation; the Manson family is ripped to shreds in ways even the most vengeful would-be vigilante can scarcely conjure. The film then ends on a wistful note, as Tate and her friends get to go on with their night as though nothing happened. The director gave us this as well when he blew up the entire Nazi high command in Basterds, and with the satisfaction of a former slave getting to visit his wrath upon slavers in Django Unchained. If one of the roles of fiction is to explore things we want but cannot have in a flawed world, Tarantino often succeeds.

#leonardo dicaprio #brad pitt #Quentin Tarantino #movies #margot robbie #once upon a time in hollywood

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brooklynislandgirl · 4 years

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This One || -

1. Who slowly eases into the pool while complaining about the temperature of the water and who takes a full-force no regrets flying cannonball into the water:

Sometimes Marion runs the dogs out along the creeks, down in the hollows of the bayous, cypress trees overhung with moss. The sounds of crickets and frogs and mosquitoes, a long list of local denizens. Sometimes, she follows along in human skin, keeping Marion company, with a running conversation, questions about the area, what it is like to live here alone, so far away from people, though she knows more about that than she cares to admit. Sometimes Beth follows along in feathers, completely indistinguishable from other birds except that she knows how and where to fly that she isn’t easy prey. Sometimes as a deer, sometimes as a gator. These are silent sojourns are company in her own way. They don’t last nearly as long; while her magick lets her wear whatever skin she wants so long as it is a living thing, too much time spent in an altered form starts to steal away her humanity, and causes her pattern to leak.

This time, she spends too much time as a hummingbird and can only dart out and over the water without warning. Knees tucked to her chest, arms wrapped around her shins, she hits the water’s surface like a boulder. The splash covers the dogs, the long reeds, and eventually Marion. When she comes up sputtering, she grins, covering her bareness with skin and the swamp water. She grins at the other woman sheepishly. “So. Can I...ah...borrow ya plaid, til I get somewhere wi’ clothes?”

2. Who can easily comfort the other when they’re sick and who sprays everything down with Lysol and wears an antimicrobial mask and pats the former with a broom to comfort them when they get sick?

Beth thinks she is going to die. Every smell, every whisper of sound, every touch only makes the nausea worse. Without the covers, she’s too cold. With them, she’s too hot. It’s so bad that even her hair follicles hurt. Not only that but her nose is red and chapped, her sinus passages and her eyes swollen, red, itchy. Her head is pounding, her body aches, she can’t even find a few moments of peace. She doesn’t even understand how people live like this.

And while Zarek is in town picking up supplies because she can’t, Marion is keeping an eye on her. And there’s kind of a curl of her lip and an eye roll that Beth is familiar with, she’s seen it on her brother’s face a half a million times. But for really real this time, she’s dying.

"S'jus' a lil' cold, sha" Reproachfully, Beth glances in the other woman’s direction. And spends the next thirty seconds sneezing. “Need. T’make. Living will.” She’s absolutely sure that next time instead of just a spritz of Lysol in her direction, Marion will feed her the entire can.

3. Who’s the amazing cook and who almost burns the house down trying to microwave a pop tart?

Marion glances over to Beth, a sneer of disdain on her face. Reflected in the dainty Hawai’ian’s demeanour too. They can certainly blame one another for playing a bit of grab-ass with each other. The pan is no longer on fire though the lingering smell of burnt ...whatever... was still thick and heavy, almost more powerful than the smoke drifting out toward the windows. There is only one thing they can do. In unison, their voices rise. “RILEY!” “PANDA!”

He peels himself from the lean against the side of the place, and field strips his cigarette butt into the ashtray. It was like he could see this coming. Heading to his truck, he’s already got the grill loaded up with charcoal, and the cooler he just knew to bring along. 4. Who immediately goes for the can of Raid when they see a bug and who picks it up like “no wait don’t kill it I wanna keep it”?

It’s instinct, Beth can see it in the start of the muscle twitch as Marion’s hand goes to to smack it right off her arm, like she would a mosquito or some other kind of ‘critter’. Thankfully, she is just quick enough to lean in and cup her hands around it. Plucks it free of Marion’s sleeve and pulls her hands apart just enough to peak into the dark space and murmur something unintelligible to it. “...’s jus’ one...da kine. Ya know... make big-big web? Like...Charlotte. Or...” She doesn’t know any other book characters based on Orb-weavers. This one is a particular beauty, green and white and about the size of a dime.

She offers Marion a brilliant smile, all sharp pointed teeth and soft, full lips. “No everybody evah see da beauty in nature, but is always dere, even undah da surface.” She excuses herself and makes her way toward the treeline to set her tiny captive free.

5. Who likes to lean over railings to get a better view and who freaks out and tries to pull the former back away from the rail screaming about how they might fall?

“Jus’ jump, sha.”

Beth squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head vehemently.

“..s’only twelve feet.” But it doesn’t feel that way. It feels like the space between the branch and the ground is a million miles. Worse, she doesn’t know how she even got up here. She doesn’t know how she’s going to get down. “Gotta trust me. I’ll catch ya.” Not if her heart gives out before she makes it. And she stays there, arms wrapped around the tree bark for the better part of the hour, no matter how Marion threatens or cajoles. But she can’t hold on forever. At some point she’s either going to slip or she’s going to have to jump and neither option seems so great. Marion is...six feet. She’s five. That’s almost twelve, right? Carefully she sits down, still holding the trunk for dear life. “K-den. But...don’t drop me....au’rite?” 6. Who acts like they’re brave and fearless but actually gets terrified 15 minutes into a horror movie and who is usually the huge scaredy cat but isn’t fazed at all by most horror movies?

Beth tries to become one with the couch and when that fails, she builds a small wall of pillows and blankets around her. Lifts her forearms up defensively to block sight of the screen. But that doesn’t stave off her other senses. Beth can still hear the screaming. The slick, gushy sounds that are so very realistic she can all but taste the blood on the back of her tongue. The way that one guy is slicing skin off that kid’s face...

She knows it all too well from the ER. And even though she knows it’s movie-magic it still she can’t get over the feel of it all. She buries her face into Marion’s side and wishes it all away.

7. Who constantly criticizes the latter’s wardrobe and who dresses even more outrageously to further annoy the former?

She doesn’t have a thing that would fit Marion, who is a foot taller than she is, and though whip-cord lean, is still a few dress sizes larger too. And for all that she has money and influence, she can’t take Marion to the gala in jeans and a tee shirt, maybe some flannel if she’s dressing up.

She translates what Marion says as “I ain’t wearing this.” though, technically it could have actually been ‘Fight sweater debris,’ just like it sounded. Beth doesn’t know why she hates the sheer black top and the leather skirt. Okay, so maybe she wouldn’t be let out of the house like that, but with Marion’s pale skin and long limbs...it would look stunning. “Okay. How about... black sequin kine dat look like it shot t’rough wi’ lava?”

8.Who likes total darkness when they sleep and who needs a night light?

Despite the rain, despite the fact that Beth was exhausted from the hunt and trying to keep just out of the Rougarou’s reach, despite the fact that she was too slowly for comfort healing up from the jagged chunks of her body having been ripped muscle from bone, she tosses and turns in the moonless dark of Marion’s bed.

She whimpers. Writhes. None of it is alluring when it is paired with the thick scent of frothing-at-the-mouth terror. That she attempts to keep moving, feet kicking under the cool sheets. Sweat soaking into her hair. Goes on for hours until Marion, in her wisdom, sets a candle out. The light falls on Beth, and she starts to calm, her breathing returning to normal.

In the morning, Beth doesn’t talk about it. But over her coffee, she hoarsely whispers, “mahalo f’ dat.”

9. Who loves kids and who scowls at the mere sight of them?

She disappears from everything for more than nine months; it’s more like a year and some. Three months after the birth of the child she finally emerges from her cabin, from out behind her husband, from everything she’s used to put space and silence between them. Has the gall to act like nothing is wrong, that nothing happened. And to make matters worse, she brings the baby with her. He has her skin tone and her eyelashes. Almost takes up all of her available arm space because she’s not that big. A little tuft of black hair, black eyes when he flutters them open. She says his name is Styxx. Like the river of the dead and damned. And though she doesn’t look any different than she did before, except maybe going up a cup-size, there’s something stiff in the way she walks. The ginger way she sits, and tries to cover the wince with a coo at the drowsing baby. She doesn’t see the scowl on Marion’s lips, or the shadow that passes behind her blue, blue eyes. If she had, she’d seen a flicker of pain and annoyance and how much Marion missed her. Misses her still, because the woman sitting on her porch isn’t exactly Beth any more, is she? 10. Who plays games competitively and sucks at them and who plays games casually and is actually really heckin good?

Marion doesn’t care how many rounds of rummy she wins. Or when she insists on the checkers or chess or half a dozen other stupid board games that come out of her bag, all of which seem to have the same goal; time wasting and aggravation. What she likes is how innocent Beth is even when the fires of competition seem to burn bright in her eyes. The little stories she tells about the game pieces, how she’d learned to play, which ones are her favourite. It’s Trivial Pursuit, and the only person who can beat her, she says, is her brother.

There’s the way she dances in place and tosses popcorn at Marion when she actually loses a turn, followed by the trill of her laugh. The games don’t matter, but getting a spark of starlight to keep you company? That’s the miracle, isn’t it? 11. Who can handle spicy foods perfectly and who chugs an entire gallon of milk after accidentally eating one jalapeño?

It starts with a little ground black pepper. Then red pepper flake. There’s pepper sauce, a variety of chillies that would eat through most cooking pots if left long enough. Brewed for three days, if that’s what you want to call it, others would say it was fermented in the Devil’s nut-sack. Either way, it gets strained and heated, then cooled to room temperature before its put into the fridge. Beth swears by her brother’s hot-sauce. She tends to put it on most things, but then, how tasteful can vegetables and even some fruits be? Marion once told her that vegans, like her, tasted better. The meat sweeter, less stringy, less fatty, a whole laundry list of things, will inside the Rougarou made plans on what it would devour first when it finally got teeth into the little witch. It’s experimentation really, what combination of foods brings out the best in her. Marion doesn’t say maybe it’s honey, maybe its just her.

But she doesn’t want to crush Beth’s enthusiasm for the project.

#mahalo!marion <333 #In Murky Moonlight|Marion LaCroix #Songs Should Die Away|Marion and Beth #Reborn on the Bayou|Louisiana #ALSOH #Gris-Gris of a Good Heart|The Rougarou and Beth #tw: cannibalism #tw: blood #tw: phobias

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