#HUE AN SATURATION ON YE ASS

[lamina-tsrif]

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

a one piece color spread redraw + an alternative color palette cuz I think it’s neat !

[indigo-sodapop]

Ok so I've listened to "Chromakopia" like three times now and I've formulated my thoughts about it.

My favorite songs on there are St. Chroma, Judge Judy, and Thought I Was Dead.

This album has a very interesting story to me, and I have a crackpot theory about the structure of the album. But first, the title: "Chromakopia"

Chroma is a greek word meaning "purity, or intensity of colors." Another definition is "intensity of hue; saturation of a color." And kopia means "copy; imitation; duplicate", but like, an exact copy of something. Chroma is Greek and Kopia is Polish. Back to that in a second.

So it's been very obvious, and I've seen this in plenty of reviews, that Tyler, The Creator (TTC) is dealing with themes of aging, and things that people find themselves reconsidering as they grow old-- marriage, children, their own long pasts and a seemingly shorter future. I like the line from St. Chroma that asks "Do I keep the light on or do I gracefully bow out?"

Keep going or stop while it's good? Do I keep going and try to achieve that nebulous title of "superstar" or do I stop here as the fucking goon that I am? Which, I read this article asking certain industry people if they thought TTC was a superstar and some said yes and some said almost but it pissed me off when somebody said "comparing him to the Billies and the Harrys" like fucking please. Enough with using white pop stars who haven't run and starred in an Adult Swim show (a fucking culture classic), shut DJ Khalid's ass up, taught a college class on their work as a benchmark.

Anyway! Chromakopia. First of all I think the title might be a play on, like, people's expectations of TTC after Igor and Flower Boy, you know, being so varied and really different than I think people would have expected after his first albums like Goblin and Bastard. Purity of Color and an Imitation . . . but the album cover and most of the teaser he did was shot in like a sepia tone? Ecepting when he was inside the plane and we got a couple of full color shots. And he talks about people following him, wanting things of him, putting pressure on him . . . and that line about stop impressin the dead. Mm. That's all I got on that.

I felt held when the chorus sung "Can you feel the light inside? Can you feel that fire" in St. Chroma.

I think the main theme here is that line about staying in the light of bowing out from St. Chroma, TTC is sitting here wondering if it's worth it to stay in this life he leads or if he needs to consider a new path. Getting older has a way of making you consider things. Lots of talk about taking masks off and finding your way home, back to yourself . . . It's all so interesting when you look at his choice of, mm costume? Persona? The mask he wears that's so close to his own human face but not, uncanny, the haircut-- I Killed You is fucking great, I love that he gave us a song about loving our natural Black hair. The suit . . . does it represent another layer of the mask he felt compelled at one point to dawn? Or like, the suit represents what people have once before wanted him to conform to? Does it show, considering it seems sort of military-esque that he commands his own destiny or thoughts and expressions?

I think Tomorrow is the final part in his trilogy of time songs, starting with I Ain't Got Time in Flower Boy and Running Out Of Time in Igor. "Cause time got nothing right" is a hell of a line.

Okay, now to my crackpot theory. Chroma, again, is defined as the purity of a color. It's Greek. And I kind of felt like . . . the album was like a Greek play. Nah lemme not be pussy- This Album Is Structured Akin To A Greek Play.

The prologue and the parados was St. Chroma, explaining the feeling of being stifled sometimes, reaching inside for that light that can be muted by so many worries and influences from both outside and in (Paranoid/Take Your Mask Off/Tomorrow/I Hope You Find Your Way Home). There is a rotating cast of a choruz, but one that's there. Sometimes the chorus takes up most of the song and in others it's all Tyler, which is like the alternating structure of a Greek play, letting the chorus explain a scene or actions (that's a stasimon), and then the character(s) dialgoue or monologue. I thought at first that the alternating structure would be like, one song mostly chorus and the next Tyler but I Killed You sort of messed with that, so perhaps the alternating structure is more loosely flowing than that. I Hope You Find Your Way Home is the exodos.

Final thoughts on the title

I could be wrong, but it'd be fun if I were right. Either way, this album is really good. He's not the new David Bowie or the new anybody else. He's a new Tyler, The Creator. And he'll be new once more in his next work. And the next. And the next.

[bullet-prooflove]

Seen: Greg ‘Mouse’Gerwitz x Reader

Tagging: @shay-o-fiction​   @kimm4710​   @k-k0129​   @cosmic-psychickitty​   @daniacat​   @enchantedblackrose​   @ikbenplant​   @crazy4chickennuggets​   @neapolitantoebeans​    @cixrosie​   @halsteadloversworld​   @i-spaced-sorry​   

Greg had posed for several of your paintings since you had started your art course. In the beginning you had doubted that he would have the ability to sit still. The man you loved was always a flurry of movement, his hands always in motion, his knee jangling. However, over the past few months Greg had exhibited a patience you hadn’t expected. He usually needed a prop, his phone, a book, his airpods, something to keep his attention rapt. Working with oil paints was something you had always wanted to try but you had never seemed to be able to find the time for. These days you had all the time in the world.

The injury you had received in the line of duty had changed your perspective, the way you thought about everything. All you had ever wanted was to be a cop, and you had achieved that, worked your ass off all the way up to Intelligence and then you got shot.

The bullet had caused nerve damage that rendered you unable to perform the more physical aspects of your job at the current moment. You still walked with a cane, an antique dark wood piece with a polished silver top that Greg had purchased for you. The two of you had delved into an antiques shop one afternoon after physical therapy. A badass cane for a badass bitch, he had told you when he handed it over.

You were still in recovery, both physically and mentally. You had honestly thought you were going to die that night and in the aftermath, you had to confront the things that terrified you. You still flinched at loud noises, woke up in the night with your heart pounding and breath caught in your throat. You feared that wouldn’t be able to return to your job, being a cop was as fundamental to you as breathing, it was all you had ever known. Greg had lightly suggested perhaps it was time to explore somethings for yourself, do the things you wanted to do. The truth was you had been at a loss on medical leave, especially with your restricted mobility.

Painting had been something you had wanted to explore in from the very beginning, the problem was when you were working full time your shifts never seemed to line up with the course dates. Even now it seemed like an indulgence, but you enjoyed working with your hands, it had been along time since you had allowed yourself to be creative and you could feel the essence of it flowing through you like a current. You had an eye for colour your tutor told you, your paintings were bright and saturated, attuned to the mood of your subject.

“Is that how you see me?” he asked you when he caught a glimpse of one. You rarely showed him your work, your cheeks colouring with embarrassment whenever he drew near but this one, you were proud of.

When you painted Greg, it was with hues of blue, a shimmer of silver lining the eyes of his pupils as he lay spread out amongst the sheets as they pooled around his waist, his gaze locked on you. It became a series before you realised it, your man captured upon the canvas, going about his life.

“Yes.” You told him, shifting to sit on the stool because you hip was starting to ache from being on your feet too long.

“It makes me feel proud.” He told you, leaning forward so that the scent of wet paint was in his nose. It was an aroma that he was now coming to associate with you. Looking at the artwork, he could see that you were changing, flourishing he thought, becoming something more than what you had been. He was glad because you had dedicated so much of yourself to other people, he thought it was time for you to take a breath and re-evaluate things. “I feel like you actually see me.”

“I do.” You told him, your arms looping through his so that you were holding him from behind. He inclined his head so that he could capture your gaze. “I see you the real you and Greg, it’s stunning.”

Love Greg? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[heraid]

she   could   not   all   say   she   was   prepared   for   the   events   that   followed   :   him   rising   to   his   feet   like   the   emotional   fanfare   had   never   occurred,   the   duct   -   taped   and   derelict   individual   .   .   .   what   was   happening   ?

❝   y-   yes,   i   follow,   ❞   she   said,   brow   setting   heavy   wrinkles   into   her   forehead,   wrinkles   of   concern   that   ached   from   their   etching   onto   her   countenance.   her   eyes   did   not   leave   the   dagger,   glinting   menacingly   from   spotlight   vibrant   against   kokichi's   stage   position.   in   a   way,   she   felt   anticipatory   of   what   was   coming,   and   yet   was   immediately   wrought   with   terror   at   its   doing.   her   mouth   was   agape,   no   words   coming   out.   soft   mauve   hues   were   already   watery   with   fear.

and   she   did   no   pondering   as   to   why   he'd   do   such   a   dastardly   thing   when   she,   as   it   seemed,   was   completely   and   utterly   helpless,   not   armed   with   her   nurse   bag   or   a   hospital's   provided   supplies.   but   that   man's   throat   was   undeniably   slit.   mikan   was   unsure   what   emotion   was   even   proper   to   convey.   how   was   she   supposed   to   react   ?   she   didn't   know,   either,   but   she   rose   to   her   feet   with   immediacy,   desperate   to   dash   across   his   weird   ass   lair   and   at   least   examine   the   wound   —   something   made   more   difficult   by   her   foot   clumsily   catching   against   the   edge   of   the   table,   dumping   all   contained   atop   it   on   the   floor.   the   loss   of   her   footing   leaves   her   in   some   unspecified,   undesirable   position,   the   spilled   tea   off   the   floor   soaking   into   one   of   her   socks.   owww.   how   unfortunate   to   not   even   be   an   intentional   act   of   inelegance,   nor   a   frantic   attempt   to   sexualize   herself   ;   the   situation   is   real,   too   wildly   real,   and   she   felt   very   darkly   out   of   her   element.

back   at   her   feet,   tears   pooled   hungrily   in   her   eyes,   lips   set   into   a   thin   line.   this   was   serious.   disgustingly   serious.   but   she   knew   she   had   to   act   fast,   unwavering   in   the   fear   of   whatever   freak   she   had   gotten   herself   entangled   with.   and,   despite   the   lack   of   equipment,   she   did   act   fast,   approaching   the   stage's   center   posthaste.

❝   i   d-   don't   have   my   equipment.   ❞   flat   words   accented   by   her   choked   -   back   sobs,   face   red   and   saturated   with   tears.   ❝   b-   but   i   need   t-   to   .   .   .   ❞

rather   than   finish   her   sentence,   off   went   one   of   her   loafers,   along   with   her   (   dry   )   sock.   rolling   it   up   into   a   cylindrical   shape,   she   held   it   against   the   man's   throat.   to   have   the   best   chance   at   the   man's   survival   was   to   stop   the   bleeding,   something   perhaps   attainable   with   enough   pressure.   perhaps   she'd   have   to   thumb   his   arteries   to   combat   the   bleeding,   something   she   was   prepared   to   do   despite   the   panic   coursing   through   her   if   the   sock   did   not   suffice.   really,   sterile   gauze   or   cloth   could   have   been   preferred,   but   mikan   was   in   no   place   to   be   picky.

❝   w-   what's   the   point   of   this   ?!   ❞

          the barrage of crocodile tears would cease as quick as they dare spilled. one solid wipe of sleeve against puffy red eyes did the trick - like it never happened. it was evident that his act made her frantic, even uncomfortable to the literal sense. and that's exactly what it was: an act. her words of reassurance were ammunition for his arsenal of deception. painfully she submits, cracked voice beckoning her captor's gaze across the way. the suggestion to indulge in another treat was not entertained. snickering as he quells the vulnerable state he begrudgingly forced himself into, Kokichi was now risen onto both feet. the unattended flames of each candle quiver from a sudden flux of air caused by movement. he managed to move from one section of the lair to another within seconds, leaving his guest in bitter silence. a thick veil of haze from the hoard of incense is now disturbed, dispersing quickly as the supreme leader unknowingly collides with it. a spotlight that was never illuminated before suddenly comes to life, their host manning himself front and center of the stage.

          next to himself was a rather unkept, disheveled individual. mouth and limbs bound tight with what appeared to be duct tape: a common tool used for human abductions. the man was conscious, eyes wide and alert to the supreme leader who was adjacent to his restrained form. unable to turn his head be it due to crippling fear or the impact of tape, those trembling pupils still met Kokichi's shape. ❝ oh, come now ~ you should be looking at her, not me! ❞ appearing in-hand like some sort of magic trick, a dagger points in the direction of his subordinate; that is what she is now, officially. ❝ she is the reason you're here in the first place, so I think it's about time we got acquainted! ❞

          his front was so playful and bubbly even while he wields that dagger like it served as an extension of himself. those purple eyes were so formidable as they search for opposing hues of mauve in the distance. without much of a breather in-between each reveal for shock value, Kokichi moves on with glee. ❝ moments ago, you clearly verbalized the extent of your aid as my subordinated nurse. you used the word your, which on my end roughly translates to mine. do you follow? ❞ he's waving that dagger around again like a music conductor brandishing a thin baton to instruct a chorus. hurriedly in one fell swoop, the weapon met with sweat riddled flesh - the neck, precisely. the man's body lurched, producing a scream that certainly would have rupture his eardrums had it not been for the sticky material putting a damper on it's strength. a once tiny smirk was now augmented by the fresh wound, using his palm and joined fingers as a sheath for the dagger. the crimson liquid stained his skin immediately upon contact; cleanliness was at the very back of his mind. while depth and fatality of his attack was unclear, the amount of blood was alarming on it's own despite that.

          the supreme leader shrieks in fake distress, quite literally dumping an entire shaker of salt into the wound he'd just created. ❝ oh goodness me, is there a nurse present in the audience who can help this poor man?! ❞ he'd done this while knowing she would be rendered helpless and unable to intervene due to their agreement.

[dannielricciardo]

Hey, how are you? I have a question regarding gifs, how do you get them to look so good? I'm very much impressed by the quality of each one you publish. If you have any advice I would love to hear them :)

aw thank you! i usually think they look like ass when i look at them 🥲 🫠

but. in general I have quite a few things

colouring plays a massive role. all gifs are limited to 256 colours, which means you are playing with a limited deck. more so, if you have many different colours, your gif will struggle, because it has to use the limited number it has for a lot of shades. however, if you lean towards certain shades it becomes way easier!

personally, i prefer shades naturally occurring in the skintones of the people im giffing. this most often means reds, yellows and magenta, so i make sure if i don't need a colour, i completely remove it. to do so, go to layers -> adjustment layers -> hue/saturation-> from the drop down select each individual colour (RYMGCB) and lower the saturation to 0 of the ones you don't need. this most often means you are getting rid of like a green speckle on the wall that has no bearing on the gif, but PS will try to allocate colours to it.

flatten colours. what this means is that in places that are not the main focus, i don't really care about having depth, i care more about having uniformity. this looks better to me (e.g. most of my gifs have a fairly solid background of one colour that looks good to me). to do so go to layers -> adjustment layers -> selective colours and play around until you even out the colours (eg. if i have a white background, that also has some magenta tint, i will go to the white channel and play around with the sliders until the magenta tint is gone and i have a pure white background). also, in layers -> adjustment layers -> hue/saturation, pick the background colour in the drop down and if it's made of 2 parts, try to even it out by using the hue slider (the rainbow one at the top) until the 2 colours are close enough (for example, if a background is green and blue, I will move the hue slider until it's fairly the same tone as the blue) . again, this lessens the number of colours you have to use, leading photoshop to allocate colours where you care about them.

ye olde and nearly retired tumblr trick: the still image background. back in the days of yore, tumblr had a 500kb gif limit, which meant that you had to perform miracles to post gifs here. this included a trick, which was supposed to be used only on footage shot on a steady cam (e.g. a vlogger doing a story time). that is still something i do when i have that type of footage if i need to increase the quality, because as a non moving part, it doesn't update every frame and ergo has consistent values out of the 256 without the minor shade adjustment every frame. to do so, you need to be giffing on a timeline. take the first/last frame of your gif, and place it on top of the gif. then, in the layers pane, add a layer mask and paint out the parts of the frame where the person will be moving.

last but not least, iconic gif action by legend morgrana. it makes everything look nicer and as an added bonus it also gives a light blur to help your colours be even more uniform. nowadays i no longer use the original style as it looks a bit dated (it's styled after a filter popular in 2014) and i adjust it per gif.

now i know this massive post is nearly incomprehensible, so i'm down to make a tutorial for all this over my long weekend if anyone's interested :)

[silkylious]

Promise (Amajiki Tamaki x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Amajiki Tamaki x Fem reader Warnings: Heavy angst, maybe okay ending if you squint Prompt: #23 “Do you promise?”

A/N: Thank you @tamasoft​ for the request! Im realllyyy sorry for the delay, this was supposed to be fluffy but my angsty ass was in my feelings so I rewrote it and this thing came out, sorry in advance but I hope you like it lmfao 

You’d known each other since you were little kids. You’d declared yourself his friend the second you saw him playing alone in the sand pit, molding worlds and picking them apart with the toy utensils. You ditched your place on the swings, enthusiastically making your way towards him. He’d been so lost in creating an imaginary blueprint for his next construction that he hadn’t noticed you self-righteously claiming the spot next to him as your own, disregarding any and all lectures your parents had given you about personal space. Tamaki didn’t notice your presence curiously looming over his shoulder until you voiced your inner inquiries.

“What are you doing?”

An embarrassingly startled sound was extracted from his throat, a flaming pink decorated his cheekbones, further saturating in shade when he whipped around to find your childishly inquisitive features a mere three inches away. You continued staring at him, silently awaiting his response with a couple quizzical blinks. He finally got the courage to meet your prodding gaze, his quivering lips parting to give you a stammered reply.

“M-Making a sandcastle,” The simple answer ignited a gleam in your irises. You took the liberty of making yourself at home and taking some of the little boy’s plastic tools (without his permission) to aid in building his sandy structure. The roles were switched, now he was the one observing you owlishly, brows pulled taut in confusion.

“W-What are you d-doing?”

“Helping you,” Your reply was preceded with bubbly giggles.

“Why?”

“‘Cause I’m your friend.” You’d said it like it was a universal truth, an indisputable fact. So much so, that he couldn’t find it in him to argue with you or question your motives. Frankly, Tamaki was giddy. You were his first friend after all, leaving a shy smile to tug at his thin lips. His chubby hand wrapped around a toy shovel to start bringing his dream castle to life with your help.

Since then it has always been you and him, with the addition of Mirio a bit later down the line. It was just the three of you, and that’s all that really mattered.

Your personalities were stark contrasts to each other, he was reserved and quiet; you were chaotic and loud. You balanced each other out in the best possible ways. You brought out the surprisingly fun and spontaneous side of Tamaki, pushing him time and time again high above cloud nine with your antics, while he kept you grounded in reality, an anchor to keep you rooted and rational when you needed it most.

Your attraction to him began in middle school. It was just an innocent little crush, a passing fad, you’d told yourself at the time. You refused to accept it as anything but that, pushing down your feelings in hopes of them vanishing. But all that did was further increase their intensity. The seeds of your schoolgirl crush eventually started budding, flourishing into a rosy infatuation, the petals of which withered in unrequited agony. No matter how hard you wished for some fairytale ending, where the childhood friends recognized their feelings for one another, you knew that wouldn’t happen. You were Tamaki’s first friend; you knew him best. And in the time spent with him, despite your augmenting love, he never reciprocated. Never showed a sign of interest, you were akin to a sister to him, he’d never see you in a romantic light. And you were aware of that, painfully so. But the lovesick part of you convinced you that there may be a possibility that he was just that dense, that there was still some slim chance of him sharing your feelings. And that’s what kept you from moving on. You were stuck between a rock and a hard place; his indifference to you romantically barred you from confessing (the fear of losing him didn’t help in the slightest), and the hope of a future with him denied you the freedom of moving on. Every time a petal withered to the ground, a new one sprouted. It was a vicious cycle, a paradox that ensured your muteness, ensured that Tamaki would be blissfully ignorant to the tyranny and sheer power he had over the pitter-pattering of your heart.

It wasn’t until the two of you enrolled in U.A. that your second-guessing was finally quelled.

“(n-name) can we t-talk for a minute?” The stutter, the flush overtaking his face, the way his eyes wouldn’t look up to meet your own – all of it was too much for your poor heartbeat. This wasn’t the same as when he’d get nervous in front of large crowds, no this was different. This was it. The moment you’d dreamed of since your middle school days. Steeling yourself amidst the prying eyes of your classmates with a resolute ‘sure,’ you let Tamaki lead the way from the common room up to him dorm. You could distinctly hear the pounding in your chest as his door clicked shut. With an inhale from your nose and an exhale from your mouth, you sat on his bed (like you usually did) and tried to calm your nerves.

“So… what did you want to talk about?”  

Tamaki mimicked your motions, taking a seat on his mattress. His elf-like ears drooped a bit, your mind overdosing on the cuteness of his shyness, though you forced yourself to focus. His dark hues flickered to yours for a second before faltering down to his lap, the pink on his cheeks amplifying into a gorgeous cherry color, partially curtained by his indigo bangs.

“I think that I-I umm…” His hesitancy had you leaning forward, quietly begging him to spit out the words you’d longed to hear. “I-I think that… th-that I l-like H-Hado-san!” He blurted out, the red pigment you’d consider cute in any other situation spreading down to his neck. “A-And I-I don’t know how to c-confess…” his pointer fingers pushed and pulled against one another. Your mind still in shock of this new information.

It wasn’t until the two of you enrolled into U.A. that your second-guessing was finally quelled, confirming what you’d already known for the start. That he held no ounce of romantic attraction to you in his system. The petals fell down one by one as his words sunk in, the once bright red of them that portrayed your passion wilted, contorted into a lifeless obsidian, leaving a tethered stem behind. All this time you’d been waiting for a cue, a sign, anything that would indicate the right moment to profess your unyielding adoration, only to be told, albeit indirectly, that there was never a right moment. Which you already knew yet couldn’t fully accept. You were awoken from your heartbroken stupor by his next words.

“I-I’m not sure if she l-likes me b-back a-and we’re both busy with school stuff s-so I don’t know if I…” His voice trembled into a mumbling mess, completely unintelligible to your ears. The way he was acting, talking, the fact that he approached you with this in the first place… you knew what that meant all too well, you were in the same boat as him after all. Your eyes softened sympathetically, more for yourself than him if you were being honest, the irony of this was as bittersweet as it could get. He trusted you enough to talk about his feelings for someone else, venting about the likelihood of her reciprocating, all while being unaware of the similar predicament you were in. He trusted you; he didn’t love you. That newly revealed truth broke you, but you wouldn’t let it show, for his sake, for your friendship’s sake. You cut his ramblings with a hand firmly placed on his shoulder, directing him to fully face you.

“Tamaki, do you love her?”

“W-Wha–” His face erupted with more color, if that was even humanly possible at this point.

“Do you love her?” You repeated, eyes glazing with an agonizing mix of melancholy and acceptance.

He timidly nodded his head, his hair bobbing out of the way in the process, and boy was his face a sight to see. Aside from the one hundred and one different shades of crimson that decorated his complexion from his clavicle all the way up to his hairline, the unignorable sparkle in his stare was so excruciatingly familiar (it felt like looking at a mirror of yourself) and so goddamn torturous all at once, because you were so fucking conscious that it wasn’t meant for you. You managed a weak smile, for his sake, you looped in your head.

“Then go for it, Tama. I think she’d be more than happy to be with you.” The spark behind his irises ignited into raging fires that threatened to burn you alive, it was so hard to watch. So difficult to sit there and observe him, so madly in love with someone that wasn’t you.

“You r-really think so?” Your answering hum was meek, but it was there nonetheless. You were sure words wouldn’t come out if you willed them to. You weren’t lying, you’d seen the precious, closed-eye grin that graced her face whenever they hung out together, she was your friend too and you couldn’t not take notice of the fleeting glances she sent his way. Both of them were such airheads that they didn’t recognize their feelings for each other, despite them being as clear as fucking day to any onlooker. You honestly would have thought it was adorable if your heart wasn’t severely compromised amongst this.

Later that week, Tamaki came knocking on your dorm room door with uncharacteristic enthusiasm, those three knocks already told you all you needed to know, but you weren’t prepared for the unbridled joy in his wobbly smile or the love filling his eyes to the brim, his pupils were practically morphed into heart shapes.

“She said yes!”

You smiled, soft and delicate. Tamaki couldn’t see the boiling regret in that smile, nor could he see the wretched dejection in your eyes. You pulled him in your embrace, which he awkwardly returned.

“I’m so happy for you.” And you really were. Despite the crushing rejection loitering in every crevice in your mind, you really were glad he found someone he loved and who loved him back. You were sure Nejire would treat him right, and that’s all that really mattered to you. So long as he was happy, you were too; it just sucked that you weren’t the source of his fervent elation. As you laid your head on his shoulder, arms still wrapped around his torso, a very particular memory decided to pop back in your head.

It was three weeks after you’d first met, both of you playing at your usual spot in the sand pit, bending reality with your chubby hands together. You were close to finishing your latest sandy masterpiece when, in an atypical show of determination, Tamaki’s soft voice broke the comfortable silence.

“Do you promise, (n-name)?” You looked up from your creation with childish wonder swirling in your wide eyes.

“Promise what, Tama?”

“To be my best friend f-forever…” His previous vigour dwindled as he shakily lifted his pinkie up. You practically beamed from his words, excitedly wrapping your own little finger around his and clutching it tightly until both your knuckles went white, the toothy smile you gave him was damn near blinding, wide and pure as they come. He let out his own soft smile, pushing his thumb to yours and sealing the promise you both had made. And you shared a hug, your head lying peacefully on his shoulder, giggling at the awkward way he hugged you back.

As the little reverie came to an end, you mentally mauled over the significance of such simple, immature words. Tamaki probably didn’t even remember the promise to be frank, and neither did you until you had this feeling of Déjà vu. With your expression still out of his sight, you took the chance to let a lone tear slip. This is where you let go, where you began working on moving on. If there was one good thing to come out of this, it’s that you were finally free from the shackles of indefinite (false) hope that had held you hostage for years now, you finally had the freedom to let him slip between your fingers. And as much as you didn’t want that to happen, you knew it had to be done and you finally gained the ability to take the first step. He didn’t need you as a lover, he needed you as a friend.

Tamaki had always looked out for you, always made good on his promise.

Now it was your turn to do so too.

[katsukikitten]

Hell Bound

A/N This was supposed to be a one shot centered around an OTME game and somehow it will be two parts...enjoy!

"I don't know Mina, this seems like a BAAAAD idea." Kirishima whispers as he peers into the living room. Mina smiles devilishly as her black and golden eyes stare at her next prank victim.

Scratch that, make it *victims*

"I think it's a marvelous idea. We will never have an opportunity like this again." She smiles at her boyfriend, shaking the magical item in her hand.

He eyes the high grade quirk resistant hand cuffs before his eyes fall back to the living room.

There you lie, wrist begging to be adorned with them and on the couch beside you lies another beast with ash blonde locks.

Somehow the two of you managed to be in the same room without killing one another. 

And somefuckinghow the two of you fell asleep on the couches in the common room watching TV.

Kirishima gulps as he watches Mina step with sly feet across the living room, he holds his breath as she creeps closer.

She too holds her breath, peering down at the two power houses of 1A.

She swallows her hesitation whole, simultaneously clamping the antiquirk cuffs onto each of you.

Two sets of eyes flash open, anger burns quick as they reach for bubblegum pink.

Bakugou reaches out with his right hand, calling on the familiar rush of his quirk.

But the satisfying pops do not come.

"What the fuck?!" You hiss in unison. Bakugou glares down at his palms willing anything to happen as you stand flicking your wrist towards both of them.

When neither move your sharp gaze falls to Mina, before flickering to Bakugou who stares at now not so deadly palms.

"What is this?" A snarl so dark that Mina swallows.

She seems to choke

"Just a prank, Y/N-chan." Your eyes follow hers to the cuffs. She had done this a few times before.

You pull on your memories but you cannot recall if they had always been antiquirk cuffs.

These were cuffs you have yet to be able to pick.

Not to mention they could take a toll on your both physically and mentally.

Scarlet eyes stare down at wide palms.

"So what? We're chained together just for tonight? Like you did the others." You lift your left hand pulling Bakugou's with it. He registers the movement but it has yet to wake him up from whatever trance he's put himself in.

"Yes I have the key right..." Panic sets in quickly on her face as she pats her body before horror takes its place.

"Where is the key Mina?" You ask calmly although you feel far from.

Kirishima now enters the room, eyes laced with worry.

Realization washes over those black eyes and you close yours to breath out heavily.

"It....it may be...." She twists the front of her shirt as you how hold eye contact.

Face still showing picture perfect calm.

"It may be?" You prompt, fear builds up in Mina and Kirishima's stomach.

Their bodies begging them to move but they ignore the weight of the tension to face the cause.

"I may have left it in my desk at school." She says before rushing her next sentence out, "BUT we can get it Monday."

"Can we get it Monday Mina?" You ask after pushing air through your nose.

You could really use your quirk right now.

Or hell some backup from your new fucking friend. A tremor works through your thick frame as once again realization washes over pink features.

"Oh shit." Kirishima says gripping onto his girlfriend "We're on break remember?"

"Oh...oh no oh no."

"That's right so now we are chained together for a week." You brandish your newest accessory again, "And what am I wearing Mina?"

"Training clothes...."

"Yes so the question is.." Your calm still in your voice but not for long, "How the FUCK am I going to shower?"

She blanches but you push on, spiraling into a tangent.

"This is a whole fucking week we are talking about here. What are we supposed to do? Shower together? How will we change? Like? Am I going to have to cut all of my fucking clothes to get them off and on or will they stay on the small chain between us? I mean shit can you give a little more slack so I can at least be in a stall by my fucking self? What happens when I have to shit?!" You gasp as more comes to you, "WHAT IF I WERE ON MY PERIOD? AND WHO DO YOU CHAIN ME TO?"

"FUCKING BAKUGOU OF ALL THE FUCKING PEOPLE IN THE HOUSE?" You huff and puff finally pulling Bakugou's attention from his unanswering palms, "I would have rather been cuffed to that pervert *Minita* than *Bakugou*"

The pair shrink back from the venom in your voice as scarlet eyes rove over you.

"Why did you bring any of that up?"

"Now you speak? And it's TRUE. What happens when you have to shit or shower. Oh God are we stuck in our rank ass training clothes? That's it. I'm fasting for the week and Fuck you Mina I'm not speaking to you." You look away, ready to forget your once good friends existence, "I'm ignoring you too, Eji."

You glare at Bakugou, dreading your whole existence.

"And you. " You stare off into space, thinking of the next week, "That's it. I'm going to have to kill myself."

Bakugou roughly yanks his arm to himself, causing you to stumble.

"I can't pull around a corpse for a week that would look bad for my image." Katsuki growls as you roll your eyes.

"Sure , King of Explodo-kills. It would just be detrimental wouldn't it?" You snarl close to his face, already over his being tethered to you.  You feel around for those two sweet buttons on the full bracelet cuff, pressing them at the right time for two soft clicks. One to showcase that you have some luck as the key hole appears on your half of the cuffs and two the chain extends with a yank of your left wrist.

But not enough for him to be out of arms reach.

Yes at this point ending it was the answer.

Could one die from mortification and embarrassment?

Now you were sure the answer was yes. 

"I..." You feel yourself cracking fast, it had been a rough few days and the closeness of the holiday didnt help, "I need a minute."

You proceed to drag Bakugou to the nearest bathroom, he watches with harsh eyes as you rush to the sink. Cranking the hot water as high as it will go before splashing your face.

But he can still see what you are trying to desperately to hide.

One falls from your eyes and he turns away, allowing you to jar his dominate hand around. 

"So you'd really rather be chained to grape soda?" He asks after a long silence. When you don't answer he sucks his teeth, pushing away from the sink.

Forgetting that he is pulling you with him.

"Where are we going?" You wipe at your face angrily as you are pulled by the sleek black bracelet cuff and the daunting black chains.

The cuff goes from your wrist to mid forearm already bringing back memories of a time when you were not so heroic. When you often found yourself bound in something similar.

Katsuki's rough voice plunges you back into the present.

"To get some shit to change into."

"We are sleeping in my room and you're sleeping on the floor!" You blurt out and he stops, causing you to slam into his back. You feel his muscles tick beneath your cheek and for a moment your body compels you to stay pressed against his black shirt saturated in that sugary smell.

"Did I fucking ask you that?" He snarls darkly, earning him a harsh shove that only brings you with him.

"Fine we can carry my stupid ass bed to your room."

"We cannot. There isnt enough fucking chain Bakugou. We will have to ask for help." He turns to you quickly, hand reaching out. You can see popping mentally but that is it.

Bakugou stares at his fist before a tremor runs through his body. 

"Yea a real help they'll be huh?" He hisses shaking his arm and yours. You bite your lip as the words tumble from his mouth, "We'll just have to share a fucking room."

You feel the absence of his popping along with your own quirk.

You wonder if you can pick the locks on the doors at school but after all the attacks on UA you had a better chance of picking the lock on the cuffs.

You briefly wonder if Todoroki could freeze the gaudy bracelets but remember that these are police grade.

Thankfully Mina did not get her hands on Military or Solitary confinement cuffs. Otherwise the two of you would be leaded down with the weight of your oppressed quirk.

Bakugou pulls you into his room and practically drags you around as he grabs a few outfits, he is going to have to ruin majority of those shirts.

Or go shirtless.

The last idea has your cheeks burning as you recall his hardened abs from the swimming training before you shake away the idea.

"Grab shirts you don't like as much. We need to stop by Momos door."

"What the fuck for?" He snarls, shoving his charger into a small backpack. You quickly learn that Bakugou owns a lot of black skull t shirts. Maybe it won't matter if they get altered or entirely fucked.

"I may have a solution to saving some of our shirts ass hat."

The two of you stop by Momo's door. You ask for a sewing kit and small buttons after begging her to make a skeleton key.

She hands you the small kit with sad eyes, she says she hasn't done enough research about the lock's mechanisms to be able to do such a thing.

You sigh asking for a file and a lot of bobby pins instead.

Now you two, the unlucky pair, stare at the showers. Wondering if the two of you could live with out.

"I...I'll go first." You cheeks burn with nerves and embarrassment but Momma didn't raise no bitch, "Just keep your fucking back turned!"

Bakugou's cheeks flush as he keeps his back to you, the hue deepens when he hears the tear of your shirt.

He watches other items fall near his feet before averting his eyes, standing just barely out of the scalding stream.

You are kind, using only one hand to wash up as you frantically shift your eyes from your task at hand and the blonde beside you.

How did you get so unlucky?

You swallow thickly, new years was in a few days, was this a preview to your upcoming year?

Would your luck ever change?

The only plus side was you weren't going to have to spend new years alone this time.

But at what cost?

Impatience ripples off of Bakugou in waves as he rips off his shirt with one hand. You watch his back twitch with movement before you look away quickly.

You rush to finish, struggling to wrap a towel around yourself one handed.

"Would you hurry up?" He asks impatiently, going to cross his arms. Accidentally forcing you into his now bare back.

You both go rigid, your breasts pressed into his back has your heart rate soaring.

His as well although he hopes you cannot tell.

"Bakugou." You say with that false calm before your nails bite into his biceps, "Never fucking do that again kay?"

It comes out a mixture of cutesy and venomous at the same time, a flutter ruffles through your stomach. And surprisingly his.

You wrap yourself successfully this time and you turn away. 

"I'll need both hands by the way." Is all you say as he grunts, turning down the hot water. 

"What are you a demon? Shit was all the way up." He murmurs.

"Hmmm." Is your only response as you flip your shirt inside out, cutting your left sleeve all the way to the collar before sewing in two buttons.

"Perfect!" You exclaim looking over your work.

You drop your towel with out warning as Bakugou goes to face you to complain how he needs his arms.

When he sees that your back is bare he does not let his eyes linger past the dimples on your lower back.

His heart thumps against his tender chest, he clutches it as his cheeks darken.

"You gotta warn someone when you're doing that!" He erupts to which you snarl back.

"Stop trying to peek!"

"Peek?! I'm not trying to go fucking blind."

Ouch. You send a nasty glare his way, burning holes into his back before slipping on your shirt and buttoning the sleeve shut. It is barely noticeable and you could technically keep using this shirt.

"I should make you walk around half naked." You hiss, grabbing up his shirt staring to cut, half imagining it was him you could slice into.

Or at the very least repel him as far as you could push him.

The cuff somehow feels heavier with the thought of using your gift.

You are so engrossed in both thought and work that you do not realize he is hovering over you.

"How did you?" You look up to see his waist wrapped in a towel, abs glittering with droplets, borad shoulders reddened from hot water. You find yourself staring as you look to his face, his normally spiked hair lies flat, some sticking to his forehead as droplets fall delicately to the tile. He pushes his hair back with his left arm and all you can see are his muscles. Scarlet eyes narrow harshly on you. 

"I..I know what I'm doing idiot." You stammer before passing him his shirt, suddenly finding the grout in the tile interesting, "Get fucking dressed."

This was going to be a long fucking week.

You unlock your room, flipping on the switch for the string lights and your salt lamp. Yawning with a stretch as you make your way to your bed.

Dragging Bakugou over piles of clothes, books, and homework.

"It looks like a bomb went off in here."

"You would know huh?" You half tease before flopping on your, thankfully, queen sized bed. The movement causes the ash blonde to slightly slump forward. He glares your way before struggling to plug in his charger.

"Do you sleep with all of these fucking lights on?"

"Hell no." You hiss back before clapping your hands plunging the two of you into darkness.

Bakugou's phone illuminates the room as he glares.

"Real smart. How am I supposed to get into your huge ass bed without bothering you dip shit?" You yank at the cuff pulling him down, his shins slam into the frame. In the low light you see his heated glare. You inch away from him and turn on your side. Forcing him to have to lie on his back.

"Fuck." He hisses out before staring at your ceiling as if it will help lull him to sleep.

All it does is leave more questions in his head as he glances at you.

You who has some how started to snore softly.

The day repeats itself, once twice, three times, as awkwardly as ever.  While  the two of you attempt to work in tandem.

Although several dishes and items are destroyed in the process.

Denki gets punched in the mouth for teasing too much.

You notice Bakugou's short fuse, although it is normally very short his patience is now paper thin.

You can see the toll the cuffs are taking on his body, his skin is dulled, eyes darkened and every now and again you'll catch him staring.

Glaring at his hands and you can almost feel his thoughts.

*"I'm quirkless now. Useless now."*

At first you thought it served him right after what you heard he did to Izuku but watching the ash blonde now felt as if someone had reached into your chest, wrapping greedy fingers around your tender heart.

And they wouldn't fucking let go. 

The TV and voices of the rest of 1A drone on in the background as you watch Bakugou change before your eyes.

It was a haunting feeling, something you knew you had to fix, no matter the cost.

💣💣💣

Again Katsuki finds himself staring at your ceiling debating how best to kill Mina and Kirishima for their cruel trick, falling to sleep at the thought.

He dreams of his quirk igniting, he longs for the feeling.

So much so that the acrid smell of burnt flesh wafts his nose, stirring him from his dream.

A whimper cuts out in the dark, shooting him up right in bed. His quirk does not answer to his call and he growls in frustration.

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the low light before he spies you sitting upright, tools jutting out from the key hole.

First he notices your burned skin from beneath the cuff before he notices the tears threatening to fall down your cheeks.

"Oi, what the fuck are you doing?" He snarls, cradling your hurt wrist with his left. He turns it this way and that before you halfheartedly swat at him.

"I'm just trying to get us free..."There it is, that false calm you so desperately cling to when he knows you really just want to scream.

Or in this case cry.

"At what fucking cost? Permanent skin damage?"

"I'm almost there. That's why it..." It was a burn worse than Todoroki could produce, causing Bakugou's voice to dip low.

"Fucking. Stop."

Something about the sight of your smooth skin bubbling up in malformed circles had his stomach twisting. He squeezes your arm for emphasis before he pulls the tools out with earnest hands.

He pretends he doesn't see the tears now falling as you say into the dark.

"Just so close to being free, Bakugou." He turns back to you, eyes boring into yours with unspoken intensity before he half shoves you to the mattress.

"Only a few more days." He snarls before lying uncomfortably on his back.

This time he does not fall asleep.

In the morning he drags you out of bed, half debating on calling recovery girl before he takes it upon himself to clean and dress your wound.

"Ow fucker." You snarl as he spreads ointment onto your seething burn.

"Wouldn't hurt if you didn't fuck around with this dumbass thing." He snaps back, causing you to quiet. Deft hands make quick work of your bandages.

He drags you to the kitchen with plans to force you to eat.

You hadn't eaten since Saturday and it was now Wednesday, three days was too long for anybody.  He saw the hunger and exhaustion pulling at your harsh yet stunning features.

He lifts you up easily and placing you on the counter beside the stove as you fuss.

"Everyday it's the same thing." You hiss more annoyed with life than him, "Eggs, bacon and rice for you."

"I gotta eat dumb ass. Just as you do." He retorts as you watch him begin to cook something out of his norm.

You watch as he makes batter for chocolate pancakes, your mouth salivates as he pours the batter onto a hot griddle.

He remembers that you loved chocolate pancakes, he also remembers you liked them in the shape of animals.

He chose a cat with two chocolate chip eyes and nose before presenting it to you. 

"I'm....I'm not hungry." You falter but your stomach gives you away with a large audible growl.

"Not hungry huh?" He says giving you the plate he both makes more and his own breakfast.

A bright red headed male enters the kitchen, following the scent of breakfast. His eyes widen at the sight. 

"Cat pancakes! I'd love some Katsuki-kun!" He beams only to earn to harsh glares.

Bakugou explodes, brandishing his spatula, yet mindful to not jar you.

"I oughta make a pancake outta you and fry up your stupid ass face!" By the time his rant is over he is huffing.

As if he's run a mile, you press cool fingers to his shoulders, he glares at you  turning his ire on you.

"And you. You need to fucking eat to live okay?! Enough of this dramatic bullshit everyone shits, you don't need to go hungry to spare me or your fucking self." Again he is breathless and you fear the worst, fingers now squeezing into his shoulders.

"Bakugou... you have to stop trying to use your quirk. I know its flared by your temper but I..." It's a hard sentence for you to finish.

You'd seen forst hand what people's quirks did to them when/if it all came rushing back, in prison they had a name for it. 

Blowback could be deadly.

"There could be blowback, your quirk can come back tenfold with every time you try to use it while oppressed. It attempts to adapt around the cuffs and when they are removed your body still thinks there will be a block. By the end of this week I fear you'll be charged enough to be a fucking nuclear bomb. I...." You can't finish but he sees what you can't say.

You don't want that although he does not know if you mean it because he will be right next to you or if you do not want to see him hurt.

He grips the spatula until his knuckles turn stark white as he reluctantly finishes breakfast.

"Call all those assholes for breakfast." He hisses and Kirishima listens.

Everyone sits down at the table sure to leave two seats beside one another for you two. 

An ugly reminder but how many more days did you have?

"Y/N?" Mina's voice claws at your thoughts, your eyes find her with a cool glare, "I know you're still mad but I still do really want to take you to the shrine. I know you've never been and I promised I'd take you."

"You've never been?" Others pipe in and you don't have the heart to tell them how many new years you spent in solitary confinement.

Instead you just nod in agreement.

"Oh you have to go now!" U-san pipes up and you try hard not to snarl her way, "You need to make a wish and pray for a good year!"

"How should I do that with these?" There is a slight edge to your voice as you raise your hand, bringing another with it.

Bakugou snatches the chopsticks from his right hand and attempts to use his left and mostly fails.  Frustration begins to grow in the pit of his stomach.

"Wear long sleeves and hold hands. Act like a couple. Lots of couples go!" Mina sing songs as if its the perfect solution.

You glare her way, cutting her with your eyes before you can use your tongue.

Or a real knife whichever comes first.

Chopsticks beside you break in half before a heavy sigh escapes his mouth.

"We can go. Just make button sleeves I'll wear a baggie shirt so we can hide the chain."

"Bakugou we don't have to go. It's not like I des...." He cuts you off before you can finish.

Hating when you doubt or deny yourself something.

And for what? Some past you keep hidden away with the rest of your emotions.

"When do we leave Mina?"

You stare at him with a confused gaze even as he rises, pulling you with him to his room once more.

The longer you were tethered to Katsuki the more you wondered how much you really  knew about him.

[fluffyzhana]

Slams a fist down.

WHY THANK YOU FOR ASKING.

So, here's the thing. I've been developing a smart home skill for about a year now. I know, it's a long time, but the thing I'm working on is a catch-all for many different devices. One such device is the RGB light.

When you tell Alexa to set the color of your light, it sends the Skill a SetColor directive. This command has an HSL/V/B value which is hue, saturation, and lightness/value/brightness (that last one is important, we'll get back to that). First of all, this is probably the stupidest way you could send a color value for lights. Smart lights TYPICALLY use RGB(W), so it would make SENSE to send an RGB value so that I don't have to put it through some wacky converter to get the RGB value (which is awful, btw, and NOT a 1-to-1 function). Nope! They choose to use HSL.

You may be wondering why HSL is a bad idea. Well, for those of you who clicked the link to the SetColor directive, you may have already noticed this yellow box here:

That may seem like it makes sense, but I need you to consider: If you have your bulbs at full brightness, which you more than likely will, and you tell your lights "change the color to blue", you would EXPECT those lights to turn blue... right? I certainly would. Artists out there might have already figured this out, but if we do what the aLl ImPoRtAnT yellow box says, then we would just get WHITE. Yes, any HSL color with 100% lightness is just white. And Alexa sends almost (key word here, "almost") every command with 100% lightness. There's basically little to no distinction between red/magenta and pink. If I'm supposed to ignore the lightness value, then why even have it??? Why should a user expect white when changing the color of a lighbulb that is fully on???

"Best user experience" my ass.

So, I did something different. Any time Alexa sends me 1.0, or 100%, I set the L value to 0.5, or 50%. This gets a good, basic color for MOST things, while still letting colors like light blue come through as lighter than plain blue. And I say most, because out of all the basic colors (not even counting more complex colors like "olive"), there is one that stands out. Purple.

Yes, I bet you were wondering when I'd get to purple, so here it is. Here's the HSL value that Alexa sends me for purple (follow along with me here, if you'd like):

Hue: 277.0 off to a good start Saturation: 0.86 or 86% also not bad. That's a pretty good purple. Lightness: 0.93 or 93%

WHAT? Look at that color! That's a La Croix of the color purple! If you wanted me to ignore the brightness, why did you put it in there? I now can't just ignore ONLY the lightness that's 100%. I have to make a special exception just for purple, just because the original programmers thought it would be a good idea to tie lightness to the actual brightness of the light, which is far from a bright idea. Fuck you, whoever programmed this. No other native apps do this shit with their lights, brightness is completely separate from color. And for good fucking reason.

If someone working at Alexa happens to see this, please, kindly fix this. And StepSpeakers. But that's another rant that I shall spare you all from.

Fuck Alexa.

Alexa Skills Kit broke the color purple and it pisses me off to no end.

[sanemreid]

tehlikeli oyun. — self para.

( feat. the spawn of satan elliott langham )

After locking up the studio — which hadn’t happened until a good little while beyond actually closing up for the day from classes and lessons, not uncommon for her to be the last one out whether staying late because of business related things, or simply to take advantage of the serene atmosphere to work on routines. Tonight’s reasoning stemming from the former — she’d popped over to her previous home in Goldfinch to asses a few things before officially putting it on the market. Would there have been a better time in the day to do this ? Probably, however this week proved to be busy for a myriad of reasons, thus for her this so happened to be the best allotted free moment, at least just to do an initial sweep. Luckily enough too her sister was out of town for a job so it could really just be a quick pop in. Regardless if she didn’t have a current ETA on the when she'd have it up for sale, more than likely after the wedding, she still wanted to be sure in the case anything might’ve needed to get revamped, it could get done sooner rather than later. 

 Truthfully though the place was in fairly as peak condition as it’d ever been since she lived here, plus the youngest of the Bayrak clan seemed to have the same trait of immaculate upkeep. The basement was probably the only feature that may need attention, seeing as it’d remained partially unfinished this whole time. Making her way downstairs after grabbing a forgotten item from the move into the manor, the plan was to raid the kitchen before actually heading home, when a knock resonated through an otherwise steady silence, halted Sanem on the second to last step. Weird. She’d hadn’t expected anyone obviously, maybe it was one of Damla’s friends, but wouldn’t she have mentioned she’d be gone. Maybe it really was old Edith coming back to haunt her. Brows furrow with a slight perplexity before continuing her movements, this time towards the entrance, another knock came halfway.

Opening the door – not fully – she was first able to catch a glimpse of the figure opposite’s profile against the front light, more features coming into view as he turned. There’d been an indistinct familiarity that the dancer was now trying to rack her brain over, all the while as his own vision landed on her a grin spread over his features that unnervingly could only rival the Cheshire cat. ❝ Sanem, hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time, ❞ Beginning with a tone that was saturated with far too much pleasantry, especially in the way her name fell. He knew her and yet she didn’t or — did she ? ❝ Mind if I come in, it’s kind of cold standing out here. ❞ Words fly in one ear and out the other as she continued to search for how and where she possibly knew him. Then like the cogs of a machine did the wheels start slowly clicking things into place, it might’ve been almost a year ago, but deep within her memory did she place him, outside the courthouse when she’d waited for Allison after a case. When she first laid eyes upon none other than the ghost himself.

Elliott fucking Langham.

Second passes when the realization hits, that she’s immediately moving to slam the door in his face, but is stopped before it can happen, his hand catching and pushes it along with herself, essentially shoving his way inside. ❝ Now that was just rude, here I thought we could just have a little talk. Guess there’s no need for formal introductions either then. ❞

Fleetingly stunned; she stood her ground just a short distance from him, almost rigidly on guard, arms crossing tightly over her chest. Attempting to keep calm though that bubbling ire was igniting beneath her skin, while he appeared rather cool and collected. ❝ Not sure what we possibly have to talk about — not unless it’s how you decided to force your way in here, ❞ A pause as dark hues narrow. ❝ Or maybe, you wanna talk about how you’ve been stalking around, making ominous phone calls like some d-list movie villain. Otherwise I suggest you walk back out the door and all the way to whichever hole you slithered out from. Better yet, straight into the ocean, please do the world a favor. ❞

One corner of his mouth twitched upwards, as if he merely felt amusement in every syllable uttered, smugness radiating the atmosphere around them. ❝ They were certainly right about you — you know you should be a little more respectful to the people who are supposedly about to become family, in what, a couple weeks now is it. ❞ nonchalantly his eyes dart around the interior as he speaks, inspecting, or more probably scrutinizing. All she could do was scoff, no surprise in the slightest to hear Rachel and Christopher were in the mix in conjuncture to him. Contempt curls on his features briefly as his line of sight returns to her. ❝ You’re a smart girl.. well, enough that I’m sure you already know what, or who, we need to discuss. I’ve been very considerate with Allison, letting her have her fun with — whatever this is, but now my patience is starting to grow a little thin. ❞

Again she hears his voice but she doesn’t listen, at least not anything beyond her partners name rolling off his tongue, sending a bristling sensation down her spine as embers ignite into full flames behind her stare. If only looks could kill. ❝ Don’t you ever fucking say her name again, ❞ She spat venomously first, a warning while she took a step closer. It may not have been the best idea to create a smaller gap between them, but the more her emotional level steadily rose, the less better judgement crossed through her mind. ❝ Let me be as clear to you as I was to them, there is nothing for us to discuss, much less my fiancée. I don’t care what kind of plan you have cooked up, or how you think attaching yourself to Christopher and Rachel like a parasite is gonna help and I’m just assuming you’re here because they ran and told you how mean I was to them at the gala. You won’t be getting anywhere near her again, I’m sure you’re smart enough to understand that. But maybe not, I mean really how pathetic do you have to be to resort to playing these games— ❞ One by one the words cascaded away from her like lava towards his direction, hoping to slowly engulf and vaporize his existence. 

Perhaps if she hadn’t been so focused on that, she might’ve caught the shift in his demeanor, to an extent her proclamation was working, maybe too well. It happened in the flash, before she could even react to Elliott’s movements, one hand reached out easily to clasp around her neck. While she feebly attempted to pry his arm away, he kept firm, sending her backwards till she was pinned against the nearest wall, wincing a bit as the back of her head made a thud. Sanem could feel his palm pressing against her trachea, though not quite hard enough to cut the airflow. Glint of fear was overcast by a grim determination not to give him the satisfaction of seeing. ❝ Has anyone ever told you, you have too much of a smart mouth for your own good. It’s cute what you’re trying to do but it’s only making things more difficult, and that’s over now. You really think you and that little dance studio are good enough ? I know what’s best for her I can give her the life she deserves. Allison is just a little confused, and I’m simply here to remind her of that, how good it was before, how we loved each other. ❞ Possessively menacing did he spit back.

Snorted laugh involuntarily erupts from her throat, humorless – mostly at least, because was he being serious, did he not hear himself right now ? Judging from the expression though he certainly wasn’t expecting to garner that reaction. ❝ You really are warped, ❞ Retorting against a partly strained voice. ❝ That’s not love, you sadistic fuck, that’s control. Of course you don’t know the difference... all you ever did and keep doing is hurt her, but you won’t have that power over her anymore. She is so much stronger and better than you know.. threatening me is only gonna make her hate you more.. ❞

Now; if just stepping closer had been a terrible idea, then antagonizing him was surely an even worse call — made evident by his grip squeezing harder as soon as the last declaration left her mouth. Was he just desperate or truly unhinged, both seemed the most plausible. Sanem never considered herself a fighter, not in the physical sense, in fact anytime her fight or flight response kicked in it almost always veered towards the latter. Nor had never found herself in this sort of situation before. Though in the same vein, she wasn’t clueless or weak, and if that’s the assumption he’d been under, the it was one on the list of mistakes made coming here. Adrenaline rushed through her system, induced by a mixture of fear and fury, between the belittlement that came from him and the Hawthorne parents, but importantly the negligent grief they all imposed on Alli. 

There was a futile attempt to pry his hand away, so in a less than thought out, survival instinct way, she reached out to grab his face, digging her nails in, before wildly kicking out a leg that made contact with some part of his body. Less than graceful but worked to release her as he stumbled back with a harsh groan, gasping for a breath while in the process of commotion did her temple managed to clip against a shelf. Hissing and silently cursing her choice of décor momentarily. Glancing towards him with sharp intakes of air, hazardous ire still beamed off both, but including her tempestuous emotional state, it drove Sanem to ball a tight fist and strike it across his face. Did the connection send an ache through her hand, yes, but it was worth it still. ❝ Stay the fuck away from us ! ❞ Shouting at the top of raspy vocals before taking the opportunity had to go for her phone sitting in the living room. 

She’d fully expected him to be close behind, but managing to secure the device her line of sight peered up, frantically glancing around to find no one. Scrolling through the contacts, in the back of her mind ebbed the notion that she should call the lawyer — knowing she would have to tell her no matter what — but aware of the frenzy it’d only send her in at the moment. Instead tapping the next name to flash in her mind, who’d luckily lived in this very neighborhood now, Lily. Shakily putting the phone up to her ear, she took tentative steps back towards the entrance, Elliott, for all she’d been aware, was gone, leaving just an idly open door, and affrighted Sanem, in his wake.

[hi-epervier]

I’m in a writing funk. Have a Naruto/Sasuke + make-up thingy while I wrestle with my muse. 

There was a washroom, at the end of a corridor on the third floor of the school's science building, that went up in flames back in the 80's. They had renovated it since, but it retained a certain je-ne-sais-quoi that made one instantly ill at ease the moment they stepped past its treshold. Word had it between students that it was haunted, by Bloody Mary, or kids who hadn't managed to escape the fire, or something else entirely, depending of the version of the story you listened to. And, it was a boys washroom. One that smelled.

That washroom's entrance door creaked open.

'I'M TAKING A SHIT!' Naruto bellowed, hoping the interloper would hurry up and scram already, like the previous ones did.

He'd holed himself up in there specifically so that no one would bother him. So why the hell did it have so much trafic?!

Naruto listened for clues of what was going on, sagging in relief when he heard the door close.

Yet, just as he was bringing the brush to his face again, footsteps made themselves heard in the heavy silence.

Naruto bit back a groan. Great. Just his luck. They hadn't left.

And they were approaching, rather than retreating.

Whoever it was (one person, light steps, the presumed dude taking his sweet fucking time, like this was a stroll through the gardens or something) strode forward and past the first stalls, pushing doors open as he went.

Slowly, a pair of checkered sneakers came into view in the space visible under the locked door of Naruto's stall, and lingered there. Naruto glowered at them, trying to make them go away with the force of his mind alone. He slav squatted on the toilet seat, feet up high, so that shouldn't be a problem unless the asshat bent down and peeped under the door, but, still.

The sneakers and black jeans connected to them shifted, slightly to the right, (no!), then away, towards the urinals on the far wall of the room. Yes! Naruto thought frantically. Fuck off! Get lost!

Then, the sneackers angled themselves toward him again, the door handle gave, shitfing down, leaving Naruto plenty of time to feel a brick drop in his stomach when he realized that the lock was at the horizontal. He'd forgotten to turn it up!

Whatever protest he might have conjured stayed stuck in his throat as the door opened a few inches.

The dude (because it was a dude) looked every bit as much of a shithead as every other time they'd met, and was glaring down his stuck-up nose at Naruto.

Naruto gave him the finger.

'What.' Sniffle. 'Come to watch, creep?' He shoved his forearm under his runny nose, leaving a streak of snot on the sleeve of his lucky jacket, but who even cared at this point. That other shit had gotten into the corner of his eye, and it stung like a bitch.

The boy didn't react. He just hovered there, watching Naruto like a fucking statue, so, never breaking eye contact, Naruto lifted a buttcheek from where it rested on the closed toilet seat, and gave a big old fart.

Fraganced, too. One of his better ones, if he said so himself, and Naruto was a connoisseur.

The boy grimaced, but didn't run for the hills.

Why wasn't he leaving?

'Like to watch little boys on the toilet, eh, Uchiha freak-o? Does your mommy know?'

The boy finally moved, only to step inside the stall and lock himself up with Naruto in it.

Suddenly, Naruto wasn't so sure about this anymore.

'What the hell?!'

'Give that here,' Uchiha said, his voice gravelly. Whether from disuse or smoking or puberty was anyone's guess. Though perhaps not the smoking: Uchiha's teeth were all freakily white and clean, like the photoshopped models in the magazines he'd spied Sakura's bossy friend reading.

His stupid hair was always so perfectly styled and soft-looking, and his skin so clear, and his make-up thingy so sharp. Meanwhile, no god nor gel bottle could make Naruto's hair do anything else than stick up every which way, and girl stuff like hair pins made him look like a clown. It wasn't fair.

Uchiha held out a hand, palm up. Following his gaze, Naruto looked to himself, pausing on the small rectangular box he was craddling to his chest.

'Like hell!' he snarled. 'This is mine, go find your own!'

'I don't want to steal your stupid palette, you idiot.'

'Then what the fuck do you want?!'

'Give me that and find out.'

That! That right here! That's why Naruto couldn't stand the guy! (Well, one of the many reasons, anyway). The nerve of that guy, like he thought he was better than the rest of them or something! Like, like he couldn't be assed to make friends, like they were wasting his time! Well, though luck. Naruto had seen past his bullshit, he was nothing special!

'Sometime this year.'

'Fuck you!' Naruto hissed. 'Why the fuck would I do that? So you can laugh at me?!' Something dawned on him. 'You can't tell people about this! Not anyone! I'll kill you if you do! I-I-It isn't mine! Well, it is, but it's not for me! I-I'm not a girl!'

'Naruto.'

'It's for my cousin!'

'Idiot. Does it look like I'm laughing?'

Uh.

Naruto lifted a hand to his painted face. That's right. Somehow the fact that he looked like a fucking raccoon had managed to slip his mind for a hot minute.

'Well... no. B-But that doesn't mean anything, with a freak like you! I bet you don't even know how to smile, you... you... vampire!'

'Original,' Uchiha drawled, 'and inaccurate as ever. I assume you're referring to the iteration of the mytho dating back to the nineteenth century, which matches my skin tone, and let me guess, you're saying my eyes look lifeless? Internalized racism isn't a becoming look on you, you know that? Especially given your own heritage, but I guess what they say about blonds really is right after all, don't you agree?'

'Err...' said Naruto, who had switched off at 'inaccurate' and hadn't recovered since. 'W-whatever! It's true! And your big words don't scare me!'

Sure, Konoha High's dress code was lax, but Uchiha made it look like it was nonexistent, with his strange emo getup. It was unfair how he always got away with it. And people kept riding Naruto's ass about orange! Orange was a great color! The best color!

'Whatever,' Uchiha said, unlocking the door.

Naruto gaped at him, aghast.

'What are you doing?!'

'You're wasting my time.'

'You can't do that!' Naruto squacked, waggling a scandalized finger at the other boy. 'You can't barge in on people, and just... just... leave!'

Uchiha turned back to face him. 'No?'

'No!'

'Hm.' Uchiha held out his hand again.

Naruto stared at it, suspicion warring with curiosity for first place at the forefront of his mind.

'...Fine!' he decided at last. 'Fine. Whatever. Fine.' He shoved the palette into Uchiha's hand.

Uchiha inspected it, and snorted.

'What? You said you wouldn't laugh! What is it? Why are you laughing?!'

'Nothing. Brush.'

Oh. Right.

Naruto handed over the brush.

'Remover?'

Uh?

'Figures,' Uchiha grumbled, stuffing the make-up in his pocket.

And just like that, he left.

'Hey!'

Oh God, he'd just offered his mom's favorite palette on a silver plater to a fucking thief! He knew he couldn't trust this guy, he should have listened to his instincts! Kushina was going to skin him alive!

Wait.

Running water?

Naruto poked his head through the door. Sure enough, there Uchiha was near the single sink, picking up paper towels and putting them under the trickling water. Their gazes met in the mirror. It had a long gash near the lower corner.

'What are you doing?'

Uchiha ignored him. Several seconds later, the bastard walked back into the stall, pushing past a flabbergasted Naruto and telling him to 'sit'. In his confusion, Naruto obeyed, plopping down his ass on the toilet seat.

'Buy remover,' Uchiha ordered. Then, he set to work.

He started with the eyes, dabbing water against the corners of each of Naruto's irritated eyes, cleaning up the lashes with care once Naruto caught up and closed his eyelids. Next, he moved on to the area right over them, soaking up rivulets of soiled water with the paper before they had a chance of falling in Naruto's eyes. Sheet after sheet of paper got discarded as he worked his way around Naruto's mess, each coming off as brightly orange as the last, and with every bit of powder he removed, Naruto felt himself relax. It was... soft.

Weird, and soft. And wet. But soft. But weird.

And then the other boy used yet another paper towel to dry him up, and all at once it was over.

'Thanks,' Naruto mumbled in the silence.

Uchiha gave a short shrug.

'So,' Naruto spoke up, 'Er, so, I'll just... go!' He jumped to his feet. '...Thank you. I guess.'

Man, two thank yous. Kushina would be marking the day on the calendar if she could see this.

'Where are you going?'

Naruto stopped dead in his tracks.

'I. Somewhere?'

Uchiha looked at him as though Naruto had just grown a second head.

'Didn't you want some make-up?'

It felt a bit dumb lying about it now, so: 'I guess? But it can wait, so, um.' He could pester Uchiha into giving him back his palette later. Probably.

But as the boy peered at him with the first thing approaching hesitation to grace his face in all the time Naruto had had the displeasure of knowing him, it dawned on Naruto that perhaps Uchiha had meant to put it on him himself.

'Did you...?'

'Shut up,' Uchiha snapped, color tinting his cheeks. 'Get your ass back here!'

This time, when Uchiha grabbed his chin to manhandle him into position, there was nothing soft about his grip. Naruto must have hallucinated things earlier. He was fucking brutal!

'Hey, watch it!'

'Hold that,' Uchiha sniped back, fishing out the palette with his free hand and waiting impatiently until Naruto opened his fist to accept it. Uchiha worked open the latch, a frown creasing his brow while he considered the small array of orange-adjacent hues. Finally, he settled on a less saturated shade, swatching some of it on the back of Naruto's hand, ignoring the protest that 'that's the shittiest one!', and, seemingly satisfied, gathered more on the brush to put on Naruto's face.

'Close your eye.'

He worked in quick, light vertical strokes that tickled, squeezing on Naruto's cheeks when the later shifted; flitting from one eye to the other, back and forth again.

At some point, the washroom door swinged on its hinges.

'FUCK OFF!' Uchiha snarled, utterly vicious, his voice breaking near the end. The intruders hadn't finished scampering away like the devil was on their tail that Uchiha was already moving on to a vibrant copper, Naruto's sniggers drowned out by the door banging shut.

Uchiha ducked his head, the tiniest hint of a smile ghosting over his profile.

From there on, the atmosphere shifted to an amicable silence. The grip on Naruto's chin relaxed, and no more words were uttered.

He was starting to get drowsy when all movement of the brush stopped. Uchiha took a step back, frowning at his handiwork.

'Is it all gross?' Naruto joked. By now he'd started suspecting that Uchiha was one of those people with a perpetual case of resting bitch face.

'You're gross,' the boy replied, picking up the eyeshadow palette and letting Naruto see for himself in its pocket mirror. 'I guess it's not totally horrible on you.'

Naruto squinted at his reflection.

'Wow,' was all he could say.

'Calm down, Narcissus.'

Naruto knew that one. 'Yeah, well, that guy was super hot, and so am I! Thanks, dude.'

He accepted the palette Uchiha was handing him back.

'It won't stay on long.' Uchiha warned. 'Normally you should at least put on a proper base first.'

'Er, yeah.'

'...Just google it, dumbass.'

With that, he was gone.

Naruto shook his head at the boy's retreating back. What a weirdo.

[writingsofmyimagination]

Going Away Present

RM x Reader Smut

Wrote this for a beautiful soul who gifted me with BTS goodies for my birthday :)

Summary:You’re bored and you decide to tease your boyfriend while he’s at work 

Words:2491

Warnings:Smut (Dom Namjoon, use of toys, blindfold, attempted orgasm denial :P, penetration), Swearing

It was midnight and you were wide awake. You were bored. You were alone and there’s only so much you could read of a Kathy Reichs novel. Namjoon was at the studio working on some solo stuff. With the guys on break none of them were at the dorm; well you think Yoongi was in but he pretty much lived in his room or the studio so you may as well be completely on your own even whether he was home or not. The dorm was huge and you just a spec in the large desolate empty space left you feeling even lonelier. You were in full lounge mode, snug fluffy pyjamas; sprawled out on the large L-shaped sofa fit for the kings the boys were. The huge flat screen rolling out the new series of Family Guy in the background, the white hue of the screen seeping into the darkness of the rest of the living room.

-How long you going to be baby-12:01

-Not sure beautiful, what are you still doing up?-12:04

-Couldn’t sleep, I’m bored, it’s so quiet here-12:10

-Anything in particular you’d like me to do about it?-12:12

You couldn’t quite decipher the tone of this message was meant, sarcastic? Cheeky? You went for cheeky

-Maybe a few, but you’re not here to exactly help me :P-12:16

- I’m sorry baby, I know I’ve been neglecting you in that department. I promise when this songs done you can have me for as long as you want-12:18

-When can we do this again?-12:16

You accompanied the message with a video Joon once took from his point of view as you rode his thigh; completely falling apart in front of the circular lens.

Your lips hiked up into a smirk, the teasing mood coming out of nowhere except depravity and boredom.

-          Shit babe! Unnecessary-12:23

-          If you’re not at my studio within 20 minutes I won’t let you cum for a month-12:24

He added in haste after the first one. You knew he’d probably already started the timer the second the two grey ticks went blue.

Shit!

You’d almost forgotten how much he hated being teased, but you were reinvigorated by the thought of what your punishment would now be. You scurried through the dorm chucking on some comfy jeans; skipping the underwear. Your hoody, thankfully was thick enough to camouflage your already perked nipples.

Hair in a scruffy bun, strands straggling to the side tucked behind your ears as you was in a fluster grabbing your keys. It took about 12 minutes to get the studio you did not have time to worry about your appearance.

You drove in autopilot, arriving at your destination with no real recollection of how you even drove their safely.

The security guard cleared you through the door, looking only slightly perplexed as to the purpose of your visit. Poor guy must be sleepy; BigHit now requires a guard anytime the members are in the building. On call security being just another one of the indicators of how successful and huge they’ve become.

Every other step was skipped as you bound yourself up the stairs. 3 minutes left. Your eye caught the glimpse of the dim light coming through the door of Yoongi’s studio

So he wasn’t at the dorm

“I was actually worried you wouldn’t make it” A voice creeped from behind the chair that did not turn to face you.

“You know how I feel about teasing. You’re now not to speak unless spoken to, you’ll do as I say when I say it! And you need to be as quiet as possible, Yoongi’s next door. I’ll gag you if I have to. Understand?”

“Yes”

“Scuse me?” he snapped back

“Yes Sir!”

“Good, now come here” He ordered pushing the chair away from the desk slightly finally angling the chair in your direction.

Shadows still on the wall, originating from the rows of models on the shelving units, two lamps directed at table of mixer and multiple screens flooded with music programs.

“Clothes off”

You shed your clothing with slow teasing movements. He never specified how quickly. He realised this as his impatience swelled through his tired body. Not that he was complaining watching the way your behind shuffled out of the denim.

“Did you want me that badly you left your underwear at home?” Your lips turning up gave the answer before any words left your mouth

“I may have” You teased your bottom lip in between your teeth flashing those innocent eyes you was all too good at. His eyes scoped out the landscape of your skin. With the main lights off the glow set a calm ambience.

“That sounds like past tense to me baby, you must be able to wait then” His words laced with cunning.

Your chest heaved preparing a pout and a protest. His eyes widened and you thought better of it, lungs deflating in defeat.

“Stand against the wall facing me” He indicated the small space in between his desk and the start of one of his shelving units. When you’d done as he’d asked he lent down pulling a bandana from one of his desk draws before his dimple saturated smile disappeared in front of you morphing into a devilish grin signalling the increased likelihood you was about to suffer.

Leaning against the wall, steadying your balance; eyes adjusting to the darkness given by the bandana. The back of your hair slightly pinching at the knot of the makeshift blindfold. Breath hitching when his hand traced round your neck, leaving delicate trails of goose bumps descending down your skin. Your hands stayed obediently by your side; a lesson well learnt. Your shoulders pushed back into the wall; air momentarily escaping your lungs with your hips angling to his palm which was suddenly cupping your core. You could feel the heat from his body lingering centimetres from you. Every fibre wanting to stretch and pull him to you. The last thing you wanted was to be punished for being impatient and greedy.

“Mmm I think you can be wetter for me” he purred, blessing you with a slow kiss at the curve of your neck.

Is he fucking joking? You thought. Only thought! You said nothing. Something cool and rubbery was pressed into your hand. You recognised it almost instantly.

“Don’t cum! That’s only for me today” he warned in a low tone. You felt the air swirl around you. Namjoon leaving you exposed, vulnerable. You heard the puff of the leather as his behind fell back into his chair. You slipped the small oval side of one of your favourite toys inside you. Easily.

Not wet enough my arse

The even smaller oval pad of the toy sat snug to your clit. Your favourite toy yes, also your favourite when Namjoon had the remote control for it.

“Hands behind your back, no touching. Be a good girl, don’t make me tie them”

The sudden intrusion of the music into the room jolted you slightly.

The Weeknd

Of course

You waited patiently; hands behind your back. The pulses started out small, pleasant even, gently buzzing on your clit. Your head rolled against the wall, bliss smile growing on your face. You neglected to care that Joon did not have a lock on his studio door and that Yoongi could walk in at any given second; he’s probably walked in on you in worst positions than this.

“Is that nice baby?”

“More please” you whined lip toyed in between your teeth.

“Seeing as you asked so nicely” he obliged. Your head flung forward, palms bloomed flat and steadied against the wall. The vibrations at your clit and inside ramped up to full torturously quickly. All your muscles from the waist down contracting tightly in just as much shock.

“Joon please” you wailed. He chuckled in a breath, you funnelled your breathing as calmly as you could; fighting every ounce of need to voluntarily contract your muscles.

Asshole

“You wanted more” he chuckled again, finally turning down the vibrations. Your palms laced with sweat. You’d rather them be tracing your own skin; nails lightly indenting across your chest. But you was going to be good and do as you were told. Mostly!

You knew he was low key punishing you for teasing him but you also knew how to get what you wanted much quicker from him. Your breathy whines and moans crept up in volume. You knew he was weak for hearing you and you knew he wouldn’t want Yoongi hearing so this was the best way to get what you wanted. You knew the sigh you heard would have been accompanied by an amused eye roll. A couple of taps of a keyboard, volume of the music grew slightly before the squeak of wheels reached your ears. You held in a wail as the vibrations had ramped up tortuously. Again. Your core tensing around the silicon egg.

“Tell me where your at baby” he whispered at the shell of your ear. His hand precise resting soft at the base of your neck

“Please, I just want to feel you, not this!” you pleaded

“Well you seem to be enjoying it! Or are you just being a brat and moaning louder so I give you what you want?”

“Well?” he added after no response from you, you were concentrating on not coming undone.

“Being a brat” you confessed in a whimper, hoping the confession would at least touch his compassionate side and stop the toy. You whined something that was completely incoherent, his body now pressed to you. He showed mercy and hit the power.

“Thought so” Your lips finally attained some attention, hot desperate attention. You kept your hands at your side until a tap on one of them indicating them free for use. They couldn’t lock and intertwine into the back of his hair any quicker if you tried. You pushed yourself further into the long awaited contact of him against you. The heat precious; absorbing every last second of it.

Joon’s hand soon left your heaving chest to dip between your thighs.

“Well I guess it’s a good thing for you I need you so fuckin bad otherwise your ass would have my handprints all over it”

“I need to have you wrapped around me, begging me to let you cum, would you like that?” He asked against your ear slipping out the toy from you

“Mmm please sir, I’ve missed you” you whined in between breaths, his lips caught against yours. His chest a welcome weight pressured against your own.

“I can tell” satisfied smirk growing as his fingers slid through your folds. Your legs tensing; fingers already stroking your velvet walls. You rewarded him a knee jerk reaction; your grip flew to his shoulders securing yourself. You held your head up as long as you could to keep it from dropping into his neck. Your legs lifting naturally locking up on his waist.

“Noise down” he breathed

“Don’t make me stuff that pretty mouth full of my cock princess”

“Let me cum baby, please I’ll be quiet” you pleaded.

“I don’t think you will be” Joon said knowingly leaving you whimpering as he pulled away you taking those tortuous fingers with him.

“Against my desk baby facing the screen” He’s already closing down windows and opening the camera. Before any protest could leave your lips your hand were gripped, back pushed towards the desk, spun round, legs kicked wider, hair tugged back. Namjoons ears’ a breath away from yours

“We’re going to make me a going away present, okay?” His ‘okay’ was of a rhetorical demand more than a genuine request. Obviously if you had any genuine objection you knew he’d stop.

“Can’t wait sir!” He slid the blindfold off you leaving it dropping it to the floor. You beamed at his reflection in the camera. The crystal clarity of every pixel emphasised the shine of his smile, wicked intent eyes fixed on your lip toyed between your teeth.

“Now I want you to be a good girl and keep eye contact with me, I want your eyes on me when I make you cum”

“Do I have to wait for your permission?” you clarified through a whine as his cock was slicking against your folds.

“I want you begging”

“Fuck Joon” you exhaled, the slow glide was damn near tortuous as he filled you up just how you needed.

“Tell me how good it feels to finally have me inside you” Your hips chased back as he slowly pulled out and going back in at the same god damn frustrating pace. It had you hissing breaths through your teeth. His eyes glistened, dancing and revelling at the struggle; you were fighting to keep your eyes open and on him. The timer of the recording going up in the corner of the screens the blinking red dot next to it.

“I missed how good your cock feels inside me…” your words with met with harder bucks into you, your balance would have been knocked off kilter if his fingers weren’t so indented at your hips. Your hair had fallen over the front of yours shoulder, distorting Joons view of your face. He would not have that. The pleasant sting on your scalp, hair rolled into his fist dragging you onto him harder and deeper. Neck strained, eyes losing the battle to overwhelming bliss, closing in defeat. Something currently Namjoon was letting go while relishing every twitch of your muscles and every staggered whine passing your lips. He couldn’t believe how much he’d missed you that his control was faltering.

“I can’t wait to have this video of you… looking so damn sexy while I fuck you next time I go away” Your mind, preoccupied with each surge of overwhelming bliss from every buck of hips.

“Please can I cum” you pleaded in a breathless whine. With his hand releasing your hair you head fell onto the back of you forearm, all muscle strength redirecting to your legs as well as your core slowly absorbing each turn of the spring.

“Do you think you’ve been good enough for me” The strength and conviction behind his words was waning. He was too lost in you and the moment and he knew it.

“Jesus Christ Joon”

“You’re right I’m sorry, it’s been too long for that” he leaned forward pressing into you just that bit deeper, the extra skin contact spreading the field of goose bumps across your skin. The moment his grip tightened at the base of the back of your neck your eyes screwed together. Your body shook with sweet convulsions. You calling out his name in between your satisfied cries.

“God” was all he managed when his hips started bucking sporadically into you.

He collapsed onto you, refusing to leave you cos he’d missed you so god damn much.

[bloodanddiscoballs]

I know there's still time on the poll but whatever enough of you said yes. This was supposed to be a Christmas present but I am getting it to her probably tomorrow at the pace I'm writing. SEXY STUFF BELOW THE CUT ✂️

I let out a choking gasp, eyes widening as the gemstone plug comes into view. It's like a Christmas tree light, catching the dull glow of the room and sending prismatic hues dancing across my fluctuating pupils. My fingers instinctively rub against the plug, pushing it deeper into you. "You are... indescribably naughty."

Electrochemistry - Holy fucking shit, she's got a jewel up her ass.

Half Light - Oh God, a jewel? She's FULL of surprises.

Physical Instrument - You better not blow your load before you even get near that sweet hole.

Endurance - No. You will not miss out on the chance to make her climax first.

Electrochemistry - Yeah, like a real gentleman or whatever.

I'm quiet for a moment, the notion of the vibrating plug a tantalizing addition that has my mind racing with possibilities. Your confession has my jaw tighten, arousal coursing through my veins at the sight of the plug nestled in your tight hole. I'm drinking in every last word you're saying, the vibrations of your dainty voice seeping into my extremely hard cock. "Host in Heaven...," I breathe, my brows furrowing at the visual feast before me. The sight of your filled hole and uncovered pussy, all wet and glistening, is making me dizzy with lust. My hands move to either side of your spine, trailing gently down then up again in a soothing motion. "Oh baby, you're one filthy little thing," I murmur, appreciating the sexy sight in front of me. My fingers gently touch the edge of the jeweled plug, your willingness to submit yourself completely to me fueling the flames of my need.

"I need you to be a very, very good girl tonight. Can you do that?" My voice is deep and husky, the hint of authoritative command showing through. I grip the jeweled end, a few soft tugs only adding to the buildup of this anticipation. I watch in delight as your back arches, a pretty moan falling from your parted lips, long eyelashes fluttering as you continue to watch me over your shoulder. "Fuck, do you have any idea how lucky you're making me feel..." Your keens of pleasure music to my ears.

I flip open the fastening of my trousers, the weight of my painfully hard member finally getting relief as it springs free. My long, thick cock slams against my belly, the wet head glistening in the dim lights of the living room. A low groan escapes me as I take hold of my throbbing cock, my thumb flicking the wet spongey head and running along my slit to smudge the pre-cum on my cockhead. With one hand guiding my shaft, I throw one leg over the couch seat cushions, my heavy-weighted balls slapping against your thighs as I rub the mushroom-like head against your folds.

Volition - Harry, try to take it slow. Deep breaths. Maintain control-

Electrochemistry - Fuck that. Ram her like Santa's sleigh.

“Goddamn, baby,” my voice teeters on the edge of a guttural growl, my body caught between my options as I continue to tease at your entrance. I feel that electric shudder that passes through your body, and that sends me over the edge - I have to touch you first. I pull the saturated lace of your panties aside and plunge two thick fingers in your slick pussy, the feel of your tightness swallowing and constricting around my fingers sends a shiver down my spine. Feeling you push back as you gasp, I move in rhythm with your rocking hips, pumping my thick fingers in and out, spreading you open for more. "Yeah, just like that,” I coo encouragingly at the beautiful moans that begin to spill from those plush lips, my other hand sliding up your curvaceous ass to grasp the gemstone lodged in your rear entrance once again. While I finger you, I twist the plug, Hand-Eye Coordination assisting in making each action smooth.

Suddenly I begin to imagine a plan for later in the night and I can't help but groan as Conceptualization helps me picture it as if we're there now; You and I going at it in our favorite positions, your perfect face contorted in ecstasy as you scream loud enough for the neighbors to complain. But you deserve to be pampered after all that. The two of us will bathe together, your lovely moans echoing in the bathroom’s steamy shower, my body pressing up against your own sudsy one, you straddling me in the shower chair. My cock twitches in anticipation as I imagine the water cascading down across your delicious curves, your wet skin slipping against mine. The possibility of spending the rest of the evening pleasing you in all sorts of perverted ways brings a wicked smile to my face.

My hand tightens around your waist momentarily before I pull my fingers out from your throbbing pussy, leaving only the plug buried deep in your tight ass. It's hard not to laugh a little at how you begin to pout, your whimpers of protest almost cause me to push back in. I can't deny that I already miss the hot snugness of that hole, and the idea of my cock buried deep inside that tight cavern excites me further. But I want to check in first.

“Are you sure, though?” I question, my words drenched with concern despite the building up arousal I can barely keep in check. This time, the caring authority figure in me shows itself, and I eye you seriously, a stark contrast to my cocky and playful demeanor just moments ago. I want it, want you, but not at the cost of your comfort. My fingers ghost over the little switch at the base of the plug, my eyes never leaving yours as I ask for your reaffirmation, my other hand coated in your slick hovering over my cock.

[jojoingjoseph]

@shizea​

Stone felt cold, smooth, perhaps grainy at times if there were sand aloft to the air.

By now the rainfalls, wind, and even sunlight had already worn away the sharp corners to a dulled edge, easily felt by brushing fingertips tracing along the hard contours in a fond manner. Dirt and dust gave that same, grainy feel, the smooth surfaces almost seeming slippery once the granules had been swept away for the moment. Iridescent were the waves that lapped over the shoreline, the sun setting low and scorching the sky in brilliant hues of a steadily intensifying inferno. Oh yes, this was the perfect hour... the Magic hour of where the light would ignite everything in fiery washes..

★ “ ...Hey, Caesarino, I’m back.. ”

It was like this every year, coming to Italy and finding this particular slab of stone to sit by and blow a couple of bubbles before he talked about his life and what’s been happening since the last time he came by. It offered a sense of a Certain peace of mind... maybe not always but missing this ritual he’s built up would weigh heavy as the world itself at the back of his head if he did not fulfill it on the same day every single year. Laying a small box of chocolates beside him, another bouquet of sunflowers were ceremoniously laid at the base of the tombstone. A quaint breeze greeted him, the bottom of the sun barely touching upon the horizon’s end.

★ “ It’s pretty, right? I remember that one time you took me down on those stupid boat rides at this hour and you were the one pushing us along to a particular spot out on the waves. I complained how dumb it was that we were sent to get groceries and do some errands while Lisa Lisa did who knows what and Suzy was a cute face doing her own things too. ” He didn’t know when the wet trails had begun to caress down his cheeks, how saturated his eyes became to blur over his vision yet he continued on without a break to his humbled voice, “ We still had to put everything away and even then we had to help cut up stuff and cook them if we wanted to eat good that evening. You told me to be patient and wait otherwise you were gonna turn this boat around and make me do all the work for whining so much. ”

A low chuckle eased out from between lightly smirking lips, lowering his eyes down to his hands folded over his lap. Sitting with his legs crossed, he could almost smell the faint wisp of those damn cigarettes Caesar loved to smoke.. almost, before a breeze reminded him of the fresh air. Much as he would’ve liked to wipe at his leaking eyes, he knew better after the first several times..

★ “ I thought it was stupid but you were right. You took me out on a spot I can’t remember now and the city looked so beautiful cast out like this.. In the rays of a sunset just like this one. You stood out at the front of the bow, y’know? Leaning against whatever that thingie that sticks up at both ends of the gondola are called, smoking those stupid cigarettes of yours. ”

★ “ .. The city was beautiful but there was something that put even that sight to complete shame. I’m pretty sure you could tell what it was by now but back then I didn’t know how to say it. Your back was facing me and all I could think of was was wonderful the light hit over your hair, the way it made your eyes sparkle when you looked back at me. I didn’t care about the city so much as I did you.. Stunning bastard you are. ”

★ “ Then you had to pull out the most stupidest, cheesy ass move you could’ve done.. ”

A clap of his hands thundered in a sound snap, a breath exhaling as the motions playing in his mind were perfectly replicated through his body. A film of transparency spread between his hands, crackling with the vibrancy of sparks keeping the thin membrane from breaking before a storm of scintillating bubbles birthed to existence. Aloft, they suspended in the air as though held by invisible threads, floating and dancing in the heavenly graces of a zephyr brushing in a hushed breath. Each one seemed to almost withhold a fleeting essence of fire, no more than a clever little reflection of the sky and sea but the effect was nothing short of magnificent..

★ “ .. and it was the most sublime scene I could’ve witnessed. ” 

Several blinks cleared what they could of weeping eyes, causing several more waves of tears to cascade down and around smirking lips. Teal irises gazed over, admiring the last lingering rays of a dying sun’s breath kissing over each and every one of those damning bubbles. The further they went away from him, the darker the sky became, the higher they went.. the more they glittered like specks of starlight as though they were only returning home..

Joseph could only hope that bastard could see them..

                                                           Wherever he was....

[changingchances]

Crossing Senses- Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor  Part 1

A/N: 1767 words. I plan to do this in several parts. It’s a bit slow, but I’m really enjoying finally getting to write some stuff. This was inspired by @bensroger ‘s And They Were Soulmates. This is the first time I’ve ever posted any of my writing, so I welcome constructive criticism and feedback! I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Some swearing.

******

It’s typical for one to see lyrics scrawl themselves across their skin in this world. Such a phenomenon is indicative of a soulmate. Music is a universal expression of the soul, and thus is a medium in which soulmates are linked to one another. When one’s soulmate would have a song running through their head, or should they be singing, the lyrics would appear in a variety of scrawling fonts on their soulmate’s body. An individual’s taste in music is often telling in terms of their personality, and a font resembling one’s handwriting is an excellent clue. So, when Roger felt his hand grow warm and tingly with clues about his soulmate for the first time, years ago, he was naturally overcome with excited curiosity, hoping this first song would give him some idea of what she was like. However, when he looked to his knuckles, there were no lyrics, no words scribbled into his skin. Rather, it was as if watercolors bloomed down his fingers and inside his wrist. And he had no fucking idea what that meant.

Everybody got their first song at different times. Some people received their first clue before they were in high school. Others waited longer. Roger’s first indication was when he was seventeen. He was worried when the colors appeared instead of the letters. He asked his family, and no one seemed to have any idea what it could mean, minus his half-crazy grandma, who kept insisting that some people see, feel, taste the music rather than hear it. Of course, Roger entertained her tales for her sake, but he knew she wasn’t one to make a great deal of sense in the first place.

Years passed by. Roger went to college, joined a band, and now has toured America as a Rockstar. Not long after the band began toying with international fame, Roger started scribbling down the colors into a notepad, taking photos when he could, even roughly painting them out to commit the oddities to memory and attempt to decipher them. Still, the colors run down his back, across his cheeks, all around his limbs and in between his fingers and toes, and still, he has no fucking idea what they mean.

 Roe is a college student and amateur dancer, studying Cognitive Psychology and stumbling gracelessly through life. She was always surrounded by music, and with her current research and her dance hobby, it seems that she’s always got some bopping background noise going on around her. She sang everything, all the time. Roe almost felt bad for her soulmate- he probably never caught a break from the ticklish feeling of songs across his skin.

Roe would watch with her mouth twisted into a little smirk as lyrics to songs, ones she’d heard on the radio and others she’d never come across before, tingled across her skin in colorful letters. She knew no one else saw the words in color- just her. She would sometimes look up the music to see if the song actually matched the colors she saw on her body. Often times, they did not. Her soulmate listened to rust red, dusky orange, and brassy gold music a lot of the time. But he sang everything, from bold reds to pastel yellows, bright greens to murky purples and blues. The words always appeared more opaque, bolder in their hues, when he sang. He sang a lot of this one band, Queen. A LOT of Queen. Sometimes, he’d sing the same few songs over and over again, the same verses appearing down Roe’s spine, along her ribs, up her neck. Sometimes when he did this, she would sing them back to him, her way of poking fun at him for his repetition.

But other times, Roe sang bits of her music, amateur pieces she’d had help composing with various friends. Or she’d catch herself humming bits and pieces of songs she was choreographing to, trying to work out little movements to match the musicality. As of recently, she’d been working on a dance to, ironically, a Queen song- Lily of the Valley. Roe likes Queen well enough, but she never found many of their songs running through her head on repeat. Lily of the Valley, however, is just perfect to dance to. This means she’s been listening to the song over, and over, and over again. It’s constantly in her head, she’s constantly humming or singing it, constantly in the studio with the track on loop. Her poor soulmate is destined to hate the tune, she thinks, for it must be practically tattooed on his body now.

However, in the recording studio with the band, Roger can’t for the life of him decipher the yellows, blues, whites, and purples, blossoming down his forearm. At this point, he isn’t even sure if they have anything to do with his soulmate’s taste in music.

“Maybe she’s simply on drugs.” Freddie offers during rehearsal, slouched on the sofa with Mary. A burning cigarette hangs loosely between his fingers. Roger sees Mary roll her eyes at the comment and nudge Freddie.

“Great,” Roger’s voice is thick with annoyance, masking the anxiety bubbling in his stomach at the thought. “So, she might be drug addict is what you’re saying. Thanks, Fred, that’s fantastic.” He’s not even attempting to hide the sarcasm, letting it saturate every word.

Freddie rolls his eyes. “I never said anything about addiction, darling.” He smiles and takes a lazy drag of smoke. “I’m sure she’ll grow out of it in time to meet your drunken ass.”

“Piss off, Fred.” Roger snaps. He’s pacing now, restless and frustrated. It’s been years. He’s never seen any of his friends with the same “condition”, as Brian puts it. It had to be him, yeah? He had to be the one person, possibly on the entire planet, who’s soulmate must be some kind of fucked up to have presented colors instead of lyrics like every other normal individual. Roger, still pacing aggressively, lets his thoughts go wild. God, what if she is a druggie? What if we meet and she’s more of a mess than I am? What if that means that my soulmate will never actually offer me a stable relationship like everyone else on the fucking planet? What if-

“Roger.” Brian’s voice cuts through the swirl of what ifs. He doesn’t look at any of his mates, just brings his hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose. His cheekbone warms suddenly, only on the left side, and he lets his hand wander to the colors he knows are dancing on his face. She’s been thinking of this song for hours.

“Roger, I don’t think you have much to worry about,” John says in that calm, reasonable voice of his. “We’ve seen some pretty messed up people with normal indicators. That means she’s probably not a drug addict. Maybe she’s just… creative?” Good effort, Deaky, but it doesn’t calm the drummer’s racing mind.

Roger sighs. “That makes no bloody sense, Deaky.” He turns to look at the band, eyes frustrated, skeptical, and tired. They all knew that sense of hope when an indication from their soulmate appears. Most of the band had gotten their first lyrics in their twenties. Roger, though, had been waiting a long time, it felt, and he was growing more and more frustrated that he and his soulmate hadn’t crossed paths yet. He imagined it would click instantly, that he would know her the moment he saw her. It was his reason for picking up as many girls at shows, bars, parties as he could. She had to be out there, among them somewhere.

Freddie stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table and stands, approaching Roger. “It’s going to work out darling. Someone like you is not going to die alone.” The lead vocalist smirks mischievously. “And I’m sure she isn’t a drug addict either. If she’s on acid, the addiction rate is low. No one likes a trip like that for that long.” Freddie pats his friend on the shoulder affectionately before letting his own hand touch the drummer’s cheekbone, still lit up with pastels and watercolor. Roger huffs and pulls away, but with a small smile.

“How would you know that, Fred? About the drugs?” Deaky inquires, if not a little skeptically.

“Roe told us,” Mary chimes in, standing from the sofa herself and approaching Freddie to hug him from behind. Freddie’s face lights up at the mention Roe.

“Yes! She’s been doing some research this year on hallucinogenic drugs! It’s rather fascinating!”

Brian, at the academic chatter, pipes up, the topic piquing his interest. “Roe? Isn’t she that neighbor girl of yours?” John appears curious as well, having set aside his bass and now leaning forward to listen.

Freddie beams. “Yes! She and I are thick as thieves. She lived right next door to me and we would sneak out together to listen to bands at the pubs!”

Brian chuckles. “If you two are so close, why have we only seen her once or twice? I don’t think any of us have actually properly met her!” John makes a noise of agreement. Roger hums absentmindedly, noticing the same colors begin to run from his thumb down his arm. How long has she been on this one song?

“We should change that, Freddie!” Mary exclaims, looking as though a lightbulb just went off above her head. “If you could get her to one of the shows, it may be helpful for her research!” Freddie, at this comment, gives a dramatic gasp and kisses Mary on the mouth.

“You’re a genius, my love!” He shouts. At this, Roger looks up from his arm.

“How would a rock concert help with research?” He asks, sounding both confused and mildly exasperated at the noise Freddie is making. Freddie doesn’t calm down though, instead taking Roger by the shoulders and jostling the drummer a little in his excitement.

“I’m honestly not sure, but she’s been talking about music and drugs for months now and I want all of you to meet her, so it’s the perfect excuse. A rock concert for science!” Freddie claps his hands together, all smiles, and everyone laughs. Roger even lets out a small chuckle, unable to be entirely annoyed at the man’s apparent fondness over this girl. The drummer feels his neck and shoulder tingle a little and looks down to see the same colors splashed down his skin.

“Would someone hand me my notebook?” Roger mutters, deep in thought again. “I need to write something down.”

[rikkuwritestuff]

Happy Accidents Ch 2

Locating Prompto was not a grueling task. His dedication to photography landed him the head photographer position not only on the school newspaper but also Chief Photographer in yearbook. Was he over loaded with extracurriculars? Yes, to the point that he had turned to one of the few exchange students to help him with his foreign studies and Niflheim language class while the other was his science partner. He needed these extra credits, the volunteering references, top grades, and the best test scores he could get if he was ever going to be accepted into the Royal University of Art in Tenebrae. Sure it would be far from home, but that did not matter since his parents where rarely, if ever, home when he was, and RUA at Tenebrae had the only Photography Department worthy of prestige and affordable outside of Accordio University. With all this extra work he had to do, it was becoming a real pain in his ass to get into. Prompto had dreams, and those dreams including attending RUA Tenebrae.

Even if it was a long shot, Prompto would not count himself out even if he did apply to The South Insomnia Institute, whose tiny underfunded fine arts department was still better than the nonexistent one at the University of Insomnia. After all don’t count your chocobo’s till they’re hatched; to reach his dreams Prompto placed his chocobo eggs in any basket he could find even if he had two years to go to prepare, that was two years for him to build up volunteer hours, extra curriculars, and even sports which was just another reason he had went to Loqi Tummelt, the Niflheim student that had not just exchanged into the school, his family happened to be the Imperial Ambassadors, the face of Gralea in the country of Lucis.

Oddly enough, for being of noble birth the young Tummelt and Prompto had turn out to be fast friends, Loqi once commenting that Prompto reminded him of someone and of his country nor did it hurt that Loqi was not to terrible to look at and that accent.

Oh Ifrit, that accent.

Prompto shook his head, lifting the 8x10 from the acetic acid careful to not drop and ruin the developing image. It was a beautiful shot one that he would treasure forever and that’s why Prompto felt the need to take his time and properly develop the image, not just fiddle around in IMPShope to adjust the tone, saturations, and hue. Noctis, Prompto smiled remember the thin fog that had risen from damp earth a few days ago, always made a perfect subject. Even if the Prince was not aware that his picture had been taken but that morning had been perfect. A late summer rain shower had rushed in, a heavy squall, that instantly cooled the air with full droplets of rain before it moved on. In the aftermath the warm earth, littered with early autumn leaves, steamed puffs of fog rising and casting an ethereal scene over the school quad, the Prince and another student having taken refugee under one of the trees that clung to its barely green leaves.

Staring into the finishing wash at the image as it cleared, Prompto breathe in and held the breath for a millisecond, respiring his crush on the Prince. His future was physically laying before him, Photography, so his dedication to it came before his dumb crush on Prince Noctis. With that went his obsession of being good enough, thin enough, perfect enough for Noctis which had taken over once, so now these next four years where dedicated to him, his self and elevating Prompto to reach those goals. Admittance to Tenebrae’s Royal University of Art and whatever else may come, not only would he reach that goal, but he would smash it.

His biggest hurdle would be the extra curriculars, track tryouts were tomorrow afternoon, and even with his growth spurt and the exhaustive workout routine, Prompto could only hope to get on the competition team. On top of that the Ardent High Photography Club was going to be him and two senior girls, Luna and Stella Nox Fleuret, twins and guest of the crown city that had decided to continue their education as well as the photography club from last year. Now all they needed was a fourth member to qualify for the school rush later in the week and become a full-fledged Ardent High Club.

He would work out how to fit in the school newspaper, it may be hard with track, photography club and his regular academics, but his needs and the newspaper’s had aligned and having a photographer that was eager to take on any assignment, even if that meant staying later on Friday nights for football games, was nothing if it got him closer to an acceptance letter.

Aware of the long nights and days ahead of him, Prompto poked the picture, submerging it down into the bath. I can do this, I got it down. Beside the extra curriculars, and school work and his weekend job at his neighborhood Bakery and fresh meat deli, a job he wasn’t legally allowed to have due to age but got anyway due to ‘familial connections’, Prompto wouldn’t have time to worry about Noctis and his disgustingly perfect face or if he was thin enough for the Prince to even glance at. Prompto was already running at twenty-seven out of twenty-four hours, no time for Noctis or to even think of just becoming his friend.

As the picture bathed, Prompto leaned against the wall a small notebook in hand as he added up his calories for that day. He may not need to be thin for Noctis, but he needed to get thinner for track.

Tropical Kale Smoothie, Peanut butter and crackers, egg, and avocado sandwich. Three plus four plus one ninety. Prompto winced, “Eight hundred…that whole bottle of sweet green tea, one thousand and twenty. And it’s not even lunch.” Pen scribbling over paper, face contorted in disgust as himself for eating two many calories, Prompto scrutinized the drying ink with unhidden disgust. “No wonder.” His arm dropped, hand brushing his sides where he still had some layer of fat on his stomach. Lost in thought, hand still rubbing over the rolls of his stomach and the upper half of thick thighs, Prompto did not hear the knob jiggling until it was to late and the door was slammed inward. The highest pitched scream erupted from his mouth, eyes wide as he stared at his assailant.

Aranea Highwind, a new resident transfer from Niflheim, stood in the doorway narrowed eyes glaring into the darkened room trying to locate him. “Oh, there you are.” She smiled, her ears moving back and up, although her tone sounded like finding Prompto was the least interesting thing she had done all day

“Uh… hi?” Prompto swallowed, tucking his note book into the back pocket of his pants. “Can I help you?” Face cast in shadow, Arena’s smile fell as stepped into the room. Behind her he could see a group or girls but could not hear their muffles whispers only their laughter and giggles. The girls tried to peer around the imposing senior even as Aranea kept her figure in front of Prompto.

“Um,” cheeks burning from the sudden attention he was getting and didn’t want, Prompto rubbed at his wrist, “Is there something you need?” He stood on his tip toes to look past Aranea, the girls beamed at him and waved. With his sudden change, even if it was not as drastic as it felt now, Prompto knew he would garner some attention, a few of the guys in P.E. gave him high fives, some asking what he had done to lose so much weight so fast. But this, at least ten girls if his quick sweep of the room outside the black room was accurate, was not what he had expected.

Aranea leaned against the wall, her red nails tapping the wall between them, “Rumor has it that you and Prince Noctis are attending the Festival of Shiva Friday.” Prompto raised a brow, of course he was going. He needed to take pictures of one of Insomnia’s largest festival for the school newspaper.

“Well, yeah.”

The loud gasp, heard around Eos, filled the room behind Aranea. “Together?” Arana leaned in, whispering the word between them.

What the fuck?

What the actual fuck?

What the fucking, fuck fuck?

Prompto coughed, brain running wild with this news. For a moment he felt like he was dumping information, like tiny Prompto’s where running through his brain setting everything but his ability to experience shock on fire. His throat tightened and he inhaled deeply remembering to breath. As calm as he could voice trembling still, Prompto leaned forward, “who told you that?”

“Noctis did!” One girl shouted as she dissolved into a mess of giggles.

“Oh” Prompto’s face turned red, thankfully the red light of the dark room was still on so none of those girls saw him flushed. “Noct, he told you that?” He stuttered, even if they could not see his blush, they would hear his embarrassment.

“Right after he told us you were his boyfriend, shortcake.”

What the, Prompto looked up at Aranea, Noctis told the female populace of the school that they, Prompto the fat chubby chunk and Noctis the Prince of Lucis and his wet dream, where dating. Prompto’s hesitation and the way his eyes darted from Aranea to the floor and back, he hoped his hesitation came off as shyness of being found out, not that he had no idea what was going on. As Prompto wondered why Noctis would pick him over one of the two Adonises he was normal seen with, Specs and Muscles, a little part inside of Prompto would always be carved out for Noctis – tiny and insignificant- Noctis would always have a place.

With that little place threatening to grow ten times in size, Prompto couldn’t, wouldn’t, leave Noctis to the devices of these girls. Brows furrowing together, Prompto looked up at Aranea, tears forming along his lashes, “he said we were going to keep it secret.” Aranea had to lean in to catch what Prompto had said, so he stated it louder, this time for all the girls to hear his heartbreak. Their secret, even if it was not real Prompto would surely act like it was.

Aranea nodded, a gentle hand resting on his shoulder, it seemed to satisfy Aranea at least. Turning to the group of girls behind her, she waved them out. “Let’s leave him be, ladies.”

Once the door was closed again and Prompto stood in the red light of the room slumped again the wall, Prompto rubbed at his eyes to dry them. “What the fuck is going on?”

[ragwitch]

Soooo. Now I'm back with a prompt, because you deserve all the good things in life and I'll make it one step closer to a full prompt list! Because I saw that you were hoping that you'd get enough! Well here's one more! Darcy/Bucky soulmate au (where you only see in black and white before you meet your match). Ps. Never done a prompt before so idk if that is too specific or not specific enough but I like your writing style enough to let you take whatever liberties. I'm just here for the meetcute

I have A LOT of feelings about this kind of soulmate verse!!! This is more than I meant to write, and probably a lot of extra stuff that you didn’t need outside of your meetcute, haha! But I definitely want to play with this again, so thank you so much for the prompt! I really hope you like it.

Pairing: Darcy Lewis/James Bucky Barnes

Rating: T

When Darcy Lewis was sixteen, she did not believe in soulmates. Her parents weren’t soulmates and they were the happiest couple she had ever met. None of her friends had soulmates and they were falling in love left and right. Soulmates, the Hues, were fairy tales and the people who claimed to have them, see them, were stuck up liars.

She had Values, and the sharp brightness of the sun or the glitter over water, or the deep absorbing darkness of a shadow at night were just as beautiful as any color a Hue could claim to see.

_

At twenty, in the desert, after electrocuting a man to the ground, Darcy Lewis stood next to Jane Foster.

“The night,” Jane whispered, staring up to the sky with sudden tears rolling down her cheeks. “The night has hues. Oh my god.”

If Jane Foster, the most practical, scientific, no-bullshit person Darcy had ever met, could see hues then they must be real.

At twenty, Darcy Lewis believed in soulmates.

After the Destroyer had been destroyed and Thor had vanished, Jane drove them both to Las Vegas to the nearest pigmented shopping district. Jane bought a can of Night Without Light paint (Value #5279832 and nearly black to Darcy’s eyes) and Darcy bought a gallon of Kernels paint (Value #1854) to paint her room in.

“That’s…a little obnoxious,” Jane said, wincing at the hue card in Darcy’s hand.

“Perfect,” Darcy said with a shrug.

They bought patternless clothing, dresses and shirts and pants all in one value, one hue. Darcy picked everything based off it’s name. Cockatrice, Envy, Electrical Storm, Life Blood, Bitter. Jane bought Deep Lake and New Growth and Dirt.

“People will think you’re Hued,” Jane whispered into Darcy’s ear in the dressing room.

“Perfect,” Darcy said with a shrug.

There was a department of hues for the body, eye powders and lips stains and nail varnishes. Jane wrinkled her nose at it all. Darcy bought one thing, a lipstick called Kiss Me.

“They look silly,” Jane said on the way home after stopping at a gas station. “I never knew how silly everyone looked, dressed in values. Spreading them on their faces. They don’t match. It’s all…splotchy.”

Darcy stopped wearing any makeup but the hued lipstick and her Value #9999999 eyeliner and mascara.

“The world doesn’t match,” Jane told her, out in the desert while she stared up at the sky. Darcy wondered if she was still looking for Thor, or if it was the hue of the stars and the dark sky that she was in love with now. “They tell you everything will be in hues, when it happens. But the world is designed for Values, we’ve built over all the colors.”

The next day Darcy wore her shirt the hue of Envy because she burned with it.

_

When Darcy was twenty-four she believed in soulmates, she believed in Hues, and believed she would never meet hers, would never match Jane’s descriptions of grass and sky and skin to their actual tones.

“But you’re so young,” Thor told her as Jane napped, upright at her desk.

“Only eight percent of the world sees hues,” Darcy said, scribbling with pigmented markers into a blank notebook. Orchid and Cerulean were nearly the same value, a reminder that her world was incomplete, missing information.

“And how much of the world is your age or younger?” Thor asked. “There is no age-limit on meeting your soulmate.”

“I don’t have five thousand years to wait, Thor,” Darcy said, raising her eyebrow.

Thor smiled. “You believe I am Jane’s soulmate.”

Darcy stared at him. “Of course you are.” He had landed and Jane’s world was in color. Those were the rules.

“Perhaps,” Thor said with a shrug. “I would like that to be so. We have always lived in color on Asgard, and we have the notion of a soulmate but no proof of it like Midgardians. Do you know what I think?” Darcy didn’t want to know what he thought. She didn’t want Thor saying anything but that he loved Jane and Jane loved him and it was a perfect absolute that brought Hue to Jane’s life.

“What?” she asked finally, because Thor had been patient.

“I landed, and I proved Jane’s work,” Thor said, and his fingers brushed against Jane’s hand, making hers twitch and reach for him even in sleep. “Tell me my love’s heart does not belong to her work, that her soul is not entwined with the stars.”

_

Finding your life’s purpose was about as easy as finding your soulmate, as it turned out. Maybe Thor had been right about Jane. They were still in love, that much was clear. What was clearer was that Jane’s priority was understanding, perfecting, and protecting the pathways of the universe. And Thor’s priority had always needed to be Asgard. Still in love, but not at once, not in rhythm together. And Jane still saw hues.

So Darcy had a degree and after the disaster of the Accords she found her calling. Unfucking the relationship between the world and it’s heroes. She loved it. She woke up everyday ready to kick ass. She felt fulfilled and purposeful and happy and satisfied.

She stared at the world and she counted every shade, the thousands of values in the moving ocean, in the streets of cities, in the sky. Orchid and Cerulean were close but they were not the same. There were more than 999,9999 little strands of light to see in the world. It was an infinite spectrum of value and it was beautiful.

_

The world did not end. Not when it was supposed to. Not when they promised it would.

That was good too. That would make Darcy’s job a lot easier. Heroes saving the day always did.

_

She almost didn’t notice, not at first. The heroes were trailing into the tent, one after the other, and it was a gloomy day, although by all rights the sun should have made an appearance for their victory. The world was muted, values blending softly together.

It was the Black Widow’s hair she noticed first. A low value, but bright and…words she didn’t know. The Black Widow’s hair…was hued. Everything. Everything was hued. Darcy gasped, a broken rattling breath, and fell back into her seat. Her skirt on her lap was vivid, saturated, strange and violent and Bitter.

“Bucky?”

She looked back up and Captain America had The Winter Soldier by the shoulder, worry between his eyes as the man—there was so much to see, she felt dizzy with it—stared raptly back at her.

“Hues,” Bucky said.

Soulmate, she thought. And some tiny, silly voice at the back of her head thought, Not bad, Darcy.

“Well shit,” Tony said and Darcy realized they really ought to talk about how ridiculous the hues on his suit were. Even if only eight percent of the population had to see them. “Let’s give them a minute.”

One by one the others left the tent—it was in a value, the tables and chairs were all valued too, as if a part of her world hadn’t changed when it had—but with the flick of the curtain Darcy could see that the outside world was riddled with hues and it made her heart pound. Bucky Barnes hadn’t moved, only watched her warily. She stood up and nearly laughed at herself. She was wearing the most…obnoxious colors. She must have spent the last seven years of her life looking like a color-blind Hue.

He was dressed in values but the hues of the room, the hues of her, of his hair—rich and warm and she wanted to touch it—bounced off the polish of his metal arm.

“You’re so…” he started and then swallowed heavily, eyes growing big as if he just realized he was about to speak out loud. But he came closer until they were standing just a step or two apart. She felt like she was learning a whole new language without being given any words. She had understanding and no vocabulary.

“How does anyone do this?” Darcy asked, finding his eyes and feeling shy and urgent all at once, feeling like their sharp pale color was peeling away all her secrets. “It’s everything at once.”

“You…” he started again and Darcy watched his eyes drift down to her lips. “That’s…quite a hue.”

“Kiss Me,” she said.

Bucky blinked at her and then before she could explain, he was there, warm hand pulling her closer by her cheek and mouth slotting over hers. Darcy made a sound, half-surprised and half-excited, and then her arms were over his shoulder and he was groaning as she returned the kiss, wanting every texture and flavor of him all at once. There was Hue in this too, she thought, the warmth of a mouth was a color and the taste of a man’s breath was a color and the feeling of fitting against a body so much larger and brutally stronger than her own was a color.

They pulled apart with a gasp and Darcy grinned, seeing the electric splash of her lipstick smeared across his mouth. She lifted her thumb to wipe it gently away and he leaned into the touch.

“The hue,” she explained, smiling at him. “It’s called Kiss Me.”

A new hue spread over his cheek and Darcy touched that too.

“It’s a good name for it,” he said, the blush (she had a dress called Blush and she wondered if it would match this) fading from his cheeks as he nestled her closer against him, and Darcy’s skin blossomed at every lick of touch. “A hue like that feels like an instruction.”

“Follow it again,” she said, watching his eyes change, darken. (Value or hue, who cared now?)

“Yes ma’am,” he said, and kissed her again.