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sleepdeprivedsloth · 4 years ago

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The Beginning of Birthday Traditions

[MHA - Bakusquad]

summary: The Bakusquad has trouble coming up with a way to wake up Bakugou for a midnight birthday celebration that doesn’t result in them being buried six feet under. Mina then reveals a plan that would get the birthday boy to wake up with a smile on his face. (platonic Bakusquad tickle fic)

potential warnings: swearing, tickling

words: 2.1 k

a/n: how could i not write a lee blasty boy fic for his birthday ?? i absolutely l o v e the bakusquad they are literally so wholesome :,) anyways i hope you guys enjoy!

“It’s physically impossible to wake Bakugou up in the middle of the night and survive,” Kaminari tried reasoning with his friends. It was only a few minutes past midnight on April 20th, meaning that it was officially Bakugou’s birthday. The Bakusquad was currently gathered inside of Kirishima’s dorm discussing how they should go about celebrating the special occasion. Specifically, trying to figure out a way to wake up the birthday boy in the next dorm over that didn’t end with them getting sent to their graves.

“But we can’t just do nothing! The Dekusquad already threw a little midnight party on Tsu’s birthday,” Kirishima argued.

Sero gave a dejected sigh, “Yeah, you’re right. We can’t let them one-up us like that. I just wish there was a way to avoid him getting pissed at us for waking him. It honestly might ruin the whole birthday mood.”

Mina, who had chosen to stay silent and patiently listen to the hopeless discussion, decided that this moment was the perfect time to pull out and reveal her wild card to the rest of the group. With a small smirk and excited gleam in her eyes, she said, “Ahem, I may have some super exclusive, top-secret info that could allow us to wake up Blasty for his birthday and live to see the light of day.”

All heads immediately turned towards Mina, their gazes both intrigued and dangerously curious. Kirishima eagerly encouraged, “... go on..!”

Mina pulled out her phone and motioned for the boys to come closer. Without hesitation, they all crowded around the small device before Mina started playing a video.

The visual was extremely dark, but they could still make out the vague silhouettes of two boys. They seemed to be struggling against one another, the taller one fighting to get away from the shorter one’s strong hold around his sides. The audio was very faint, so the group had to strain their ears to hear what was happening.

“If we w-weren’t in the dorms right now I would not he-hesitate to blast your ass into nehext week,” a gruff voice threatened quietly.

Another voice gasped, and then spoke teasingly, “Did the Kacchan just giggle?” The shorter boy’s hands then traveled further up the taller one’s torso, going up to his ribs, and not even two seconds later, not-so-quiet laughter could be heard echoing throughout the dark room.

The camera recording suddenly turned towards the ground and started shaking around, showing Mina’s blurry, socked feet quickly pattering away, before the video abruptly ended.

The Bakusquad slowly brought their heads back up to face one another, the boys all sharing the same dumbfounded, gaping expression and Mina looking smug as hell.

Kaminari was the first to speak up, barely able to contain his newfound excitement. “No way. No. Freaking. Way.”

A mischievous smile formed on Sero’s face as he said, “This is just too good to be true.”

“I know right!!” Mina exclaimed, obviously very proud of capturing the personal and adorable Bakugou moment. “Who would’ve guessed that our resident boom boy is ticklish?!”

“Sooo.. we’re all thinking the same thing right?” Kirishima asked, looking over at each of his friends expectantly.

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Sero said, while Mina and Kaminari nodded in agreement.

“”So what are we waiting for?!” Kaminari declared while standing to his feet. “Let’s go give the birthday boy the wake-up call of a lifetime!”

After the rest of the Bakusquad got to their feet, they all excitedly rushed out of Kirishima’s dorm and into the hallway. Once outside of Bakugou’s dorm, Kirishima pulled out the spare key the blonde had given him that was supposed to be used strictly for emergencies, but he honestly thought that their mission could be considered a birthday crisis of some sort.

Kirishima unlocked the door and quietly pushed it open, just enough so that he could briefly peek inside to make sure that Bakugou was asleep. He then pushed the door wide open, allowing him and the others to sneak inside the pitch black room. They made sure to close the door behind them and leave the lights off, but the group could still see each other’s shining, playful grins.

The Bakusquad crept over to Bakugou’s bed and saw him sleeping peacefully and softly snoring. Perfect. Kirishima and Sero crouched down onto the ground near the foot of the bed and gently pushed the blanket out of the way to reveal Bakugou’s bare feet. Meanwhile, Kaminari and Mina quietly climbed onto the bed and settled themselves on either side of the sleeping boy.

From the floor, Kirishima motioned for them to start putting their plan into action. After a quick nod, Mina slipped one of her hands underneath Bakugou’s tank top and started lightly tracing her fingertips along his bare stomach. Not long after, his face scrunched up and his body slightly curled inwardly on itself, trying to escape the soft sensations.

Deciding to step it up a notch, Mina ran her fingers over his side, not too hard as to immediately wake him up, but just enough to get him sleepily squirming. Bakugou lazily brought an arm down across his torso, his unconscious mind telling him that it was just a bug.

Desperately wanting to get in on the action, Kaminari slithered his own hand underneath Bakugou’s top and slowly dragged his slightly wiggling fingers from the birthday boy’s stomach up to his ribs.

Bakugou twitched awake, sleepily whining a small, “Son of a-” before he opened an eye to see what had woken him up while Kaminari and Mina quickly retracted their hands. He had definitely not been expecting to see people sitting next to him on the bed in his dorm, causing his eyes to widen and his body to jolt out of shock. Once his sleep-filled mind had actually caught up to what he was seeing, Bakugou was able to recognize and identify the two smiling faces as Mina and Kaminari. He let out a small sigh of relief before relaxing his body and closing his eyes again, mumbling, “Pinky? Dunce? Th’ hell you two idiots doin’ in my bed ‘n the middle of th’ goddamn night?”

“Actually, there are four idiots. Kiri and I are here too!” Sero pointed out with a suspicious amount of energy and excitement, but Bakugou was so tired that he honestly couldn’t care less.

In fact, the blonde had already started falling back into the depths of sleep, only letting out a small, “Mhmm.. get out losers,” in response.

Kirishima dragged a singular finger down the length of one of Bakugou’s feet. “C’mon Bakubro, you gotta wake up!”

Bakugou’s breath hitched before he immediately pulled the attacked foot back underneath the protection of the blanket. “Don’t do tha’ shit. I- Jus’ let me sleep, guys.”

Kaminari butted in, bravely placing a hand on Bakugou’s shoulder to gently shake him awake, “But we need you awake! Do you even know what day it is?”

Bakugou shrugged Kaminari off and completely ignored his question, instead tiredly mumbling, “Make sure to lock th’ door on your way out.” A few moments of silence passed, and the birthday boy was on the cusp of falling back into a deep sleep, when he suddenly felt soft fluttering on both of his feet and down his sides. Fingers were lightly grazing over the balls of his feet, dipping into the arches, and circling the heel before going back up and starting all over again. Small squeezes were given spontaneously along the length of both sides of his torso, traveling from his waistline all the way to his lower ribs.

He tried to pull away from the gentle touches, but found that all four of his limbs were being pinned to the bed. Shit. He was so screwed. Bakugou tightly squeezed his eyes and tried to keep his mouth clamped shut, but he couldn’t prevent the tired smile and sleepy giggles from inevitably escaping. Normally, he would be fighting like hell to keep his laughter under control, but he was freaking exhausted dammit! “Whahat the- shihihit! What do you dahahamn extras think you’re doHOHOING?!” Bakugou’s laughter unconsciously became more desperate and louder when Kaminari suddenly wiggled his fingers higher up on his ribcage.

Noticing the increased reaction, Mina started focusing her tickling on his higher ribs as well. “We’re tickling you! I thought that was pretty obvious.”

Bakugou tried to thrash his way out of his captors’ grasps, but he was heavily outnumbered and disadvantaged. Still, there was no harm in fruitlessly trying. “Leheheheave me alohohohone! I’m nahahahat even tihihihickli-AHAHahaha!”

“Hmm.. I don’t know, dude.” Sero playfully teased. He pulled back Bakugou’s toes with one hand, using the other to gently flutter his fingers on the sensitive space in between, rewarding him with more thrashing and a shriek that dissolved into uncontrollable laughter. “Seems like you’re pretty ticklish to me.”

“NOHOHOHO I’M NAHAHAHAHAT!! WHIHIHIHI-WHY ARE YOU ASSHOHOHOLES EVEN DOHOHOING THIHIHIHIHIS?? HAHAHAVE A DEAHAHATH WIHIHISH OR SOHOMETHIHING?!” Bakugou attempted to threaten his friends, but his bright smile, joy-filled laughs, and adorable blush covering his face counteracted the murderous words.

Kirishima was dragging his index finger along the padding of Bakugou’s toes, occasionally dipping down in between them and giving a little wiggle, causing the blonde to give out a little squeal each time. “Because it’s your birthday!”

“Yeah, we have to wake you up so that we can celebrate together!” Kaminari exclaimed. He moved both of his hands to grab at either side of Bakugou’s hips and repeatedly squeezed. With his head thrown back from the force of his hysterics, Bakugou bucked his waist left and right, trying to dislodge Kaminari’s fingers.

“YOHOHOHOU IDIOHOHOTS ARE GONNAHAHAHAHA REGREHEHEHE- AAAAAAAHHAHAHAHA!!” Bakugou started pulling at his arms desperately, bouts of laughter pouring freely out of his mouth, as Mina trailed her hands upwards until they wiggled against his highest ribs, only an inch or two away from his armpits. “NAHAHAHAHAHA! NO MOHOHOHOHORE, NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE!!”

With a villainous look in her eyes, Mina dug her fingers into the spot with more purpose and vigor, while Bakugou absolutely lost his mind to the sensations. “We’ll stop as soon as you promise that you’re gonna have tons of fun on your special day!”

Sero quickly half-jokingly added, “AND that you won’t kill us for waking you up.”

“OKAHAHAY OKAHAHAHAY!! WHAHATEHEVER JUHUHUST LEHET MEHE GOHOHOHO!!”

“Not enough, Bakubro. You gotta say that you promise!” Kirishima teased.

“ALRIHIHIHIHIGHT IHIHIHI PROHOHOHOMISE!!”

Kaminari leaned down next to Bakugou’s ear, brought his hands up to his bare armpits and started creating feather-like flutters while whispering, “Say that you pinky promise, birthday boy~”

Bakugou’s blush only deepened as he fell into silent hysterics for a few moments, tears of mirth gathering in the corners of his eyes. Seeing that Bakugou was being tickled beyond the point of responding, Kaminari mercifully stopped his fluttering, but kept his hands rested on Bakugou’s armpits and slowly drummed his fingers against the soft skin. Once able to verbally form sentences again, Bakugou pleaded, “Pihihihinky prohohomise! Ihihihi pihihihihinky prohohohohomise!!”

The Bakusquad all immediately ceased their tickle attacks and released their hold on Bakugou’s limbs. The blonde quickly tucked his arms and legs back underneath the blanket and curled in on himself, trying to catch his breath and slow the stream of leftover giggles pouring out of his mouth. “Dohoho nohot e-hehe-ever doho thahat agahain asshoholes.”

“No promises on that one, Blasty,” Mina declared while Sero and Kirishima got up from the floor and joined the others on top of the already-crowded bed.

“Oh yeah, we’re totally doing that again!” Kirishima excitedly commented. “We’ve seriously gotta make wake-up tickles a birthday tradition in the squad.”

Bakugou groaned fondly at their silliness, a soft smile still present on his lips. The others all shared a look with one another before exclaiming, “Happy birthday, Bakugou!!”

When the birthday boy looked up, he saw his friends all wearing the same stupidly huge smile on their faces and doing dramatic, and surprisingly synchronized, jazz hands that they must’ve practiced on together for hours. He let out a few chuckles, “Yeah yeah, whatever losers. So what are we gonna do for the next five hours before class starts?”

“Wanna go raid the kitchen for snacks and play Mario Kart?” Sero suggested.

“Obviously, just don’t throw a tantrum when I completely dominate all of your asses!” Bakugou quickly challenged.

“Tough words for someone who’s deathly ticklish…” Kaminari teased with a knowing smirk.

Bakugou buried his head into one of his pillows to hide the oncoming blush and nervous smile quickly spreading across his face. “... shut up..”

a/n: ahaha not me posting in the middle of class :D but i really hope that you all enjoyed reading this and thank you for taking the time to do so!! I’ll be posting my fandom list tomorrow because i love procrastinating on it lol have a great life guys!!

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miki-snake · 4 years ago

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The haikyuu boys when they’re lonely

✥ Thoughts on how your boyfriend acts or feels, when you and him are apart for a longer time.

➴ post timeskip haikyuu boys x reader

━━━━━━━━━━ ༻✧༺ ━━━━━━━━━━━

✥ Daichi Sawamura

Coming home to an empty apartment was always like a slap in his face. He’d always call out “Tadaima” and expect to hear an “Okaeri” as an answer. When nothing comes to greet him his shoulders slump a bit. He goes on with his chores and everything but he constantly reminds you through texts to take care of yourself. Work keeps him busy but it’s when he drinks his morning coffee that he misses you the most. He’s so used to the taste it has when you make it and is convinced that it doesn’t taste that great if it’s not made by you.

✥ Sugawara Koushi

Watching the kids and the parents picking them up from school reminds him of you and your possible future. When you’re not home though, the thoughts of having a family with you were more apparent in his mind. When you’re gone he looks through everything you normally use and checks if he needs to restock anything, so when you come back everything will be ready for you. He’d tell you over text that he misses you, not whining but just reminders of how much he really loves you.

✥ Asahi Azumane

It’s the mornings that he misses you the most. Not waking up with you in his arms (or he in yours bcs he likes being the “little spoon” from time to time) always makes him feel the loneliest. At work he draws some outfits he thinks would look good on you which he always did but during those times he’d do it more often. Develops the habit of spraying a bit of your perfume on the sleeve of his shirt so he can smell “your” scent if he wants to. Nothing is better than your natural scent though.

✥ Tsukishima Kei

You and him weren’t the typical lovey dovey couple and honestly he couldn’t stand to watch those people being in full on couple mode. So when you’re gone he can’t take it at all, like, the sight was already obnoxious enough but knowing that he couldn’t even be like that if he wanted to because you’re not by his side? Just annoying. When you ask him if he misses you he just scoffs and denies it but he still texts you daily to tell you to “look after yourself, idiot”. He packs his “i miss you” in something like “why did we get a bed that big again”. When he’s sleepy and you two talk over phone his true feelings slip and he starts to blush but you just tell him that you miss him too.

✥ Bokuto Koutaro

When you’re gone during one of his games he’s especially down because you wouldn’t be there to cheer him on and his team has a hard time cheering him up (the first few times they had to call Akaashi and ask for help. When you’re not home he sleeps on your side of the bed to be enveloped by the smell of yours nearly cries when it fades. If he’s out with his friends he can push back the sad thoughts but in the silence of the night they come back. He has some audios of you talking that he sometimes plays so he can fall asleep.

✥ Akaashi Keiji

Never forgets to at least text you good morning and goodnight. Sometimes if he’s able to he even squeezes in a good morning call, not because he had to play the alarm for you but because he loves your voice right after you woke up, still tired and confused. He always asks about your day and continues your habit of buying fresh flowers for the living room everyday and sends you an image of the flower of the day. During those times he writes more often on paper and not with his laptop, so he can use the personalized Parker pen you gifted him.

✥ Kuroo Tetsurou

He’d miss your bright smile and sparkling eyes the most and so you and him try to video call each other every night if it’s possible. He asks Kenma, Yaku and his other friends more often to meet up so he wouldn’t feel that alone anymore. He plays it off when you tease him about it but when you tell him that you miss him too, he can’t help the slight sad glint in his eyes and the soft smile forming on his lips. Sends you stupid science jokes which throws you back to your highschool times and the start of you two dating and it never fails to make you smile.

✥ Kenma Kozume

His viewers ask him about his girlfriend and he had to repeatedly tell them that you’re not there with him. So after the streams he’s reminded of your absence the most. He’d get messages from you throughout the day and during those times his responses are a bit longer than usual. He was so used to you cuddling up to him that he misses the warmth next to him. That’s why on one side the blanket is bundled up, mimicking the feeling of someone being next to him with the one side being warmer than his other.

✥ Oikawa Tooru

He misses your gentle voice that would always laugh at his jokes and the teasing between the two of you. He loves to scroll through the pictures of the two of you, reminiscing in the memories you’ve made. Because he feels lonely, he wanted you to also express that you miss him. So he bombards you with photos of him eating, playing volleyball, lying in bed, changing. Also every time you call he whines and asks when you’re coming back and how you could be away that long without him.

✥ Semi Eita

He plays your favorite songs in the background while doing the chores. Most of the time he misses your voice so you can expect many calls or he’ll demand some voice messages. One time you heard how he talked about it to his friends and you surprised him with a recording of you talking about how much you love him and what exactly you love about him. The recording gets played frequently when you’re gone. He also spends more time in the studio, working on songs which you knew so you always text him to remind him to take a break.

✥ Ushijima Wakatoshi

Coming back from practice he misses your soft cuddles and welcome home kisses. You two sometimes try to time your dinner, so you two could video call while eating and talking about your day, well you mostly talk about your day. When you were gone over a Sunday, he’d feel your absence the most. It’s normally the only day in the week he has complete free time and not hearing your laughter echoing through the room and your bright smile in front of him made him feel lonely and he just bluntly tells you that he wants you home soon because he wants to see you.

✥ Atsumu Miya

He misses your laugh and how you’d laugh full-heartedly at his jokes, even if no one else would. During those times he often goes to “Onigiri Miya”, visiting his brother and talking about how you’re still not home yet. Coming home from practice he always walks past your favorite bakery and sometimes he thinks about getting your favorite cake and snapping a pic to make you “jealous”. At home he mostly sits in the living room, the bedroom making him too lonely without you next to him on the bed.

✥ Osamu Miya

Normally you would go to the restaurant to help him right before closing time so you two can walk back together and when you’re gone he sometimes forgets and still watches the door to see if you're the one who walks through it.

Always checks up on you if you’ve already eaten and not only junk food but also healthy stuff. Thinks about what to prepare for you on the day you come back and be ready to have a cute little candlelight dinner date at home with homemade cooking that tastes better than in the restaurant.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #daichi x reader #sugawara x reader #haikyuu!!#kuroo x reader #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu headcanons #atsumu x reader #oikawa x reader #osamu x reader #ushijima x reader

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alpacaparkaseok · 4 years ago

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Inside “The Pact”

Hello! For those of you that followed along with The Pact, I received a few questions and requests to get an inside look. I’ll link the post here that explains a bit more about what this is gonna be about.

We’re gonna break this down into sections: first will be answering your questions about The Pact & the characters. Then I’ll show you guys a little about my notes & decision making process (which is very obscure because I just tend to keep a hypothetical tab open in my brain most of the time lol) as well as some pictures of my ideas!!

Thanks for requesting such a fun thing to do now that this series is over. It’s been fun to look back!

Q. What song did the boys dedicate to y/n?

A. “Her” || This is a sad song, but I felt like it fit so well with how the boys had to hide a part of themselves (their feelings) away for the sake of the pact!

Q. Did the boys get mad/how did the boys react to Jungkook’s kiss?

A. Jungkook was a little shocked, and felt extremely guilty on the drive back home. He wasn’t sure if he could stand to tell his hyungs, but he also knew he couldn’t lie to them. Naturally, the second he walked in the house and everyone saw his face, they knew. It was just quiet, everybody was a little hesitant to say anything/bring it up because they were all upset. Only Jimin has heard all of the details of JK’s kiss, whereas the others are simply aware that he kissed her and that’s that.

Namjoon was the most upset, although he didn’t say anything. He just sat there on the couch and did the jaw-clenching thing he always does. Yoongi just tried to change the subject and ask about other aspects of the date. Taehyung was actually pretty pissed, especially because he’d been so good about refraining from kissing you even when you’d asked for it. Hobi had a chat with him later that night and calmed him down. Jin wasn’t angry so much as he was worried that he missed his shot & couldn’t stop replaying his date in his head.

Q. Who fell for y/n last?

A. Namjoon. He’d had a little crush, and that’s why he was willing to go along with the pact. But it hit a point less than a year ago when he fell hard and fast. (you called him in the middle of the night when he was on tour and he realized that your sleepy voice is possibly the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard) The boys noticed and as a result teased him endlessly about it, because he doesn’t quite know how to navigate his feelings.

Q. Who did the boys bet on? (We already know that Jimin bet on Yoongi and won lol)

A. Namjoon bet on JK, Tae bet on Hobi, Hobi bet on JK, Jin bet on JK, and Yoongi bet on Jin, and JK bet on Namjoon (because we all know JK would pick Namjoon lol)

Q. Didn’t y/n ever date other guys? How did the boys react?

A. hahaha ok I actually would have such a fun time writing this Yes, she dated around a bit. For the first year of the pact, she had an on again, off again bf. It wasn’t very serious, and she always made that clear to the boys. They still hated the dude. After they broke up, she only went on a few dates here and there. Didn’t really seriously date. (except for that one time she went on vacation and had a fling, but everyone has decided to forget that) They just smiled and supported her, although Tae was always very clear that he didn’t like any of the guys she dated.

Q. In Namjoon’s date, who was the 1950′s author mentioned?

A. Agatha Christie, the queen.

Q. How did y/n meet Jimin? (he was the one that introduced her to the rest of the group)

A. She was a PR intern for Lee Hyun. Jimin and Lee Hyun are close, and they crossed paths fairly often until Jimin decided to invite her to hang out.

Q. What is y/n studying in school?

A. Public Relations (which will honestly come in handy with her new relationship lol)

Q. Where was Jin in the last chapter when y/n came to the studio?

A. Agh how could you ask me this and bring back all that pain?! Jin was at his brother’s restaurant for some much needed R&R. He ended up staying the night with him, not wanting to go home just yet and have to face his decision.

Q. Who would you personally choose to end up with and why?

A. KIM SEOKJIN. Date #5 was basically for me lol. Like, unapologetically wrote that for myself. Not just because he’s my bias, but because I personally felt like I could picture myself chilling on that couch watching Dateline with him. And it was beautiful. 🤧 Also, while Jin can be loud and goofy, he’s an introvert. I’m an extravert with introverted tendencies, so I just feel like his date would have been the most comfortable for me.

CREATING THE PACT - AN INSIDE LOOK AT MY NOTES

First thing’s first, I have an on-going page in my notes on my phone which is FILLED with ideas & half-formed thoughts. Before I began writing The Pact (or even Spooked, for that matter), this happened:

So you can see that I had no idea what I was doing lol, but I thought that it would be cool. Mainly I wanted an excuse to write OT7 and display all the members in a sweet light. Also, we see that not all of these actually made it into the series. (Tae w/ the family)

BUT THEN, “SPOOKED” HAPPENED, AND A GOLDEN OPPORTUNITY POPPED UP

ngl, I cracked up when I looked back at my notes and saw this.

“Sweet Gloria what am I doing to myself” 😂😂 this was when I was pushing “Lost & Found” out and planning for Taehyung’s series (which is why so much is blocked out on my notes, because it’s riddled with spoilers lol) so I literally had no idea why I was jumping into another project as I was already super busy. That’s why I scheduled it for just Saturday’s! (and also why I sometimes posted super late at night lol)

As you can see, Seokjinnie’s date was literally always on my mind. From the very beginning. Which is odd, considering the fact that he didn’t end up being endgame. wow it’s like he’s my bias or something

Occasionally I’d take breaks from hw and work on getting to know how the boys were with y/n. Quotes and poetry serve as a great source of inspiration, and I assigned a quote to each member. (notice the little stars by Jin, Yoongi’s and JK’s names lol, they were my top three as I’m sure you’ve noticed by now)

There were a couple of things that I didn’t think of adding until I was reading through your theories and got an idea of what you needed to push the series in the right decision. i.e. bringing Gina back to explain that she closed the door in Spooked.

I have a whiteboard in my room that I use to map out what I need to do that week for whatever series I’m working on (as well as jot down ideas for new series, which I why this photo doesn’t show the whole board haha)

So here’s a peek at my thought process for writing about how the pact was formed. Sorry if you can’t read it haha

NOW, the last few questions you guys had:

Q. Did you ever change your mind while writing the pact?

A. Yes! I actually originally intended for Hobi to have written the note. It fit very well with how angry he was at first and how worried he was during the date. But by the time I'd gotten to Jin’s date I kinda knew that he wouldn’t be that petty but Jin would haha

I also planned on Yoongi kissing y/n on their date. It was supposed to be on a rooftop somewhere, which we know didn’t happen. In fact, I didn’t really intend for their date to be so disastrous until I was coming closer to having to write it. I think I was a mess, so the date was a mess lol

I had no idea what I was doing for Tae’s date until I wrote it, all I knew was that there had to be a museum. The rest I just made up as I wrote and hoped that it made sense. (also, for some reason I hated the museum portion of the date. Idk why, but it just felt so stark to me. still don’t like it lol)

Q. When did you know how it was going to end?

A. That’s a....difficult question lol. Honestly, I thought of just doing an audio recording and uploading it because it I didn’t really know how to put it into words, but then I realized that most people probably wouldn’t wanna listen to that lol. So here we are.

I had the ending scene in mind before The Pact even became a thing. I knew I had a series that I wanted to end with baking cookies. (weird, I know.) It didn’t exactly go how I planned, but I remember having the thought while writing Spooked (when I thought I was just writing a one shot) that it would be nice for y/n to be with Yoongi. I just instantly felt like they had a connection, when he was the first one she went toward. From then on out, I always kinda kept Yoongi in the background.

I had a crisis about halfway through (right before Jin’s date) when there were a bunch of people rooting for Tae, because he hadn’t even been on my radar. But then Jin’s date went much better than I thought it was going to/received better, so I think that got me back on track.

But from the beginning, Yoongi was #1. (I wrote this in the back of my Career’s notebook lol) when I was trying to figure out for myself who wrote the pact.

So yeah! There you have it! Just an FYI, I had to physically restrain myself from throwing caution to the wind and making Jin endgame. Especially when so many of you were on board. :( However, the survey helped because Yoongi was the majority of votes (closely followed by Jin & JK) and that showed me that we were still on the right track!

Ngl, my brain stopped working around Wednesday of last week, so writing the finale took FOREVER because nothing would compute. But I’m so happy you guys enjoyed it and reached out to me about it! This really is like a part-time job most days, and I really felt like this series paid off.

Hopefully I covered everything! To end, here's the most satisfying part of every project for me:

Thanks guys!

#the pact stuff #b:rants #about me #bts fluff #bts dating au #ot7 bts #bts x reader #ot7 bts x reader

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dailyaudiobiblechronological · 2 years ago

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10/4/2022 DAB Chronological Transcription

Matthew 3, Mark 1, Luke 3

Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible Chronological, I'm China. Today is the fourth day of October, welcome. It is a joy to be here with you today. I have been loving the month of October. I always think how much I really love the month of October. And it's like I was talking about yesterday kind of transitioning out of the heat and really into fall. We don't get a very long fall in Nashville. I wish we would, but the moment leaves turn color, we get a bunch of rain, and they just all plummet. So our fall is, like, on the ground. I guess that's why they call it fall. But I'm pumped. Wish I had sound effects, but you just got my mouth for today. Today we're kind of like bouncing around in the Gospels. I don't know if that has the same fun effect as bouncing around the Psalms, but this is the fun part about reading chronologically. So we're reading it in the order, which is to be believed, that things happened in things that were recorded in. And so we kind of go through the Gospels and we get to hear potentially the same story or picking up from a story where they're the one left off. And we get different obviously they're different writers, so we get different perspectives and different flavors. And you almost walk away from reading the Gospels and you somewhat have, if not a favorite, like a preferred one. And I feel like every year mine switches, so we'll see which one comes out, feeling the preferred one if that does happen this year. But today we are in the Book of Matthew. We are reading chapter three, when the Book of Mark reading chapter one. And the Book of Luke was chapter three. Continuing on with the New International Version for this week.

Commentary

So we read about the story of John the Baptist preparing the way. And up until today's, reading, baptism had not really ever been a thing. So imagine John, who is coming out of the wilderness, who is wearing camel skin clothing and eating locuts and wild honey. So probably very mangy wild looking and is now speaking of things that have never been shared about if this were to be happening in today's time, I don't think we would really bat an eye at it. We'd be like, okay, that person is a follower of Jesus. Okay, cool. I'm already baptized, but I'll pull up my phone and take some videos, maybe upload them, get some likes, like that kind of a thing. But imagine that this is the first time that you are seeing people getting dunked in this lake, in this river, and you're being told there's value in repentance. There's someone who's more important coming, someone who's actually so much greater that this man is claiming he couldn't even carry his sandals or untie them. I feel like that would have two different responses. One that's very compelling and you feel the Holy Spirit convicting you and you feel that move and you're running up there and you are probably weeping, and you're confessing your sins, and you're like, yeah, I want to get baptized. And I don't even know who you're talking about, but sure, this sounds great and true and something seeming to check out in my spirit. I don't even know what that means. But then all of a sudden, here comes Jesus. And you're like, who is this guy? And John is emotional and saying, what, do you want me to baptize you? Aren't you supposed to baptize me? And then you watch Jesus get baptized. And in a bodily form, a dove is descended upon Jesus. Sorry. In bodily form. The Holy Spirit is descended upon Jesus. And there's a loud voice from heaven. Now, I've never heard a loud voice from heaven, but could you imagine all of that being shifted? And I don't know, up until this point were people still sacrificing everything that they needed to make atonement for their sins? I'm not really sure. But imagine hearing a different way of reconciliation happening where it requires something internal and not something external, which has been all these generations. That's honestly pretty groundbreaking. And so then we start reading about Jesus performing healings and performing miracles. Well, I think that healings are miracles, and I think that falls underneath that category. But I do know that the quote first miracle Jesus does is at a wedding. We'll just say that's what they are healing, I think their miracles, but I'm not sure, philosophy wise, if those meshed together, if that counterproducts that that was his first miracle, I'm not sure. I don't know that that fully needs to stand up in a debate. But anyways, so Jesus is revealing himself, revealing who he is, but God is also revealing who Jesus is by a loud voice. There wasn't just a couple of people at the river. There were many people, and many people of importance, too. Soldiers, tax collectors. Probably, people walking around being like, dude, why are you soaked and weeping and saying that you're changed? And then people being like, you gotta go to the river, man. You gotta go to the Jordan. And then kind of like this ripple effect. I don't know, my brain kind of goes into what are the other parts of the story that could have happened just to kind of paint the picture? But who knows if that happened or not? But we do see Jesus in the Book of Mark, starts to choose some of his disciples. We're getting into Jesus'ministry. It's like, man, he was just born a couple of days ago, and yesterday I'm reading about him in the temple and boom, now he's 30. They really grow up.

Prayer

But Jesus, I thank you for your word. I thank you that we are finding so much about you by just slowly taking in your gospels. And I just thank you that everything you did was with intention and with heart and with character. And I thank you so much that we have a savior who is personal and personable that you understood so much more than what I think we even give you credit for. You are fully God and fully man. And even though our brains cannot fully fathom that, I thank you, that it's still the truth. And I thank you that as we continue to find ourselves in these stories, that we find a Savior, we find someone who was willing to save us from our ways and to be committed to reconciling us back to the Father. And I thank you that you gave your life so that we could have that. And I pray that we would have just so much gratitude in our hearts that would center us. And it's in your name we pray, amen.

Announcements

Dailyaudiobible.com is our website. That's our homebase. Check that out. You can also go to Facebook.com/dailyaudiobiblechronological, and that's also a good connecting place with other DABCers and other believers. So be sure to check that out as well. That is all for today. I'm China, I love you and I'll be waiting for you here, tomorrow.

Community Prayer Line

Good morning. D-A-B-C. Family, this is Rodney from Atlanta. I want to lift up a couple of family members in prayer today. Follow me. Thank the Lord for the day. We thank the Lord that you told us to come boldly before you're thrown in grace to come with confidence. Lord, I pray, Lord, right now for my family member of Atanya. God, we pray the Lord for her son, for the case that he has to go to court for. God I pray, Lord, right now, you are a lawyer in the courtroom. So God thank Lord right now for making this situation to your glory, that he will see your glory and he will give you the glory for the situation right now. God, I prayed for, for Abigail and for her sister Blossom, I come against that suicide spirit right now. You are a liar. I thank Lord for life in the name of Jesus, satan lose her mind and God, I think, Lord, for deliverance right now for Blossom, she'll rise up to do what you have called her to do. God, I pray, Lord, for Aaron and God for her missing brother in law. Lord, you know exactly where he is. So God, I pray, Lord, in the name of Jesus, that truth will surface right now and bring this burrow off back home safely. Let your angels cover him. In the name of Jesus, I come against any violent person coming to his realm right now. And God, I thank you for the finding of Abigail's brother in law. Lord, we give you praise right now. God, you are prayer answering God. And God, you send your word if we pray according to your will and your word that you will answer our prayer. God, you told, you were granted the petition we bring before you now. So God, thank you for answering prayer, and God, thank you for deliverance. In the name of the Lord Jesus, no weapon form against these family members will prosper. And God, I thank you for doing it right now. In the mighty name of Jesus we pray. Amen. Amen and amen.

Hello D-A-B-C family, this is Diana from Florida and I have a praise report to share. So of the two girls that I had requested prayer for that I am currently mentoring one of them who was set to give birth to her baby girl has already given birth and her baby girl is doing very well and she's doing very well and working out all the kinks of feeding and naps and all the things, but she is doing well. By God's grace. And we're still praying for my other Amenti who needs a car to keep her in prayer. But I just wanted to thank this community and Simone from Texas for persisting in prayer for them. I will come on soon to provide updates as those updates come up. What I did want to request prayer. About now is that the same young lady who just gave birth recently found out that her dad has cancer and it is very difficult for her and her mother and the family. This is her adopted family, she was adopted at a very young age. And so if you could please pray for them, pray for God to do a miracle in their lives. They are not Christians, neither is a young woman. This ministry, Florida is a ministry that works to help young ladies with their pregnancies and deliveries and doing life with them and encouraging them to come to crisis. So I pray that that be the case that her father may hopefully be. Love you all, bye.

Hi, this is Josh from Illinois, formerly from Indiana and I wanted to call in to call for Christie in Kentucky and her husband. Lord, you know everything that needs to go on with the body. We know exactly what needs to happen. So Lord heal the body. Lord, let it be whole in the name of Jesus.

Hey, this is Chassis from Kansas. I just wanted to call and just pray for those who don't call in because I know that we all are going through things even if we don't call in. So Lord, I was just coming to you and I lift up all of those who are in this community, this amazing Bible community that don't call in. Lord, we know that they are going through things as well. We lift up their prayers to you. We lift up the heartaches, the pain that they're going through, the loss, the grief. Lord, we also lift up their joys to you and thank you for those where we are so thankful that we can be in relationship with you God, thank you that you love us. Thank you that we can praise you and that we can be in this community. Lord, I thank you for Joe and Chyna and their family that they are healing. And Lord, I just thank you so much for their faithfulness to listening to you in Jesus name. Jill, China and Brian, I want to say thank you so much to all of you for when you say I love you at the end of the podcast every day. I don't know that you all realize how much that means. These past couple of months have been really hard for my family. My marriage was practically falling apart. Praise the Lord. He turned that around. We are better than we've ever been in our relationship. But on those really hard days just when you all said I love you at the end of the podcast, that honestly helped me get through the day because some days that was the only time I heard I love you. So God bless you guys, every single one of you. I love you all.

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gaymershigh · 4 years ago

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Hi, can u write headcanons of Jamil, Azul, Cater, Rook and Idia discovering that their S/O (male) is their favorite singer/idol in a disguise? Sorry if it sounds too boring

Thanks and I love your blog <3333

It's not boring at all! I love this request so much 💗 the reader has to not be a different world like Yuu so it makes sense in context as to why they're popular in twisted wonderland, just to clear things up!

Also yes, I'm doing other requests before redoing that damned unfinished draft-

Jamil, Azul, Cater, Rook and Idia discovering their boyfriend is a popular idol

You want to tell him so bad but you just don't the guts to.

It's not like you don't trust Jamil or anything. It's just that Kalim's 99% always nearby him and try don't him to overhear your confession and cause a huge hassle.

But sometimes secrets are broken by itself. You can be your own secret breaker.

While you were listening to songs from the Land of Hot Sands that was recommended by Jamil, he was picking random songs from your country.

His eyes slightly widen when one of the songs he picked's singer sounds just like you but with a different name.

“He sounds just like you.” he stated and that made you panicked. That is one of your newer songs from a few weeks ago.

He got curious when your words started getting shaky and your face getting sweaty. This led him to researching your stage name, making you even more scared.

“He even looks like you too, could it be?.. ” if you kept lying, it will go into a dead end. The only thing to do it to spill the beans even if you don't want to.

Your hesitant nod was followed by silence and then a normal 'ok' from your lover like nothing was out of the ordinary. You were shocked.

In the inside however, he was different. He was baffled, these things only happen in fairytails!

He's not complaining though, he loves the feeling of being special.

Even if don't mind, he wouldn't be the type to be brag about your relationship together. Maybe with Kalim but other than that, nah.

“I see. Don't worry, ya amar, I'll keep this a secret. just the two of us only.”

How can you keep this secret away from him for that long? Colour me and him impressed.

Jamil is reasonable as to why he doesn't know about your secret identity because he doesn't keep up with the trends but Azul? He definitely spends more time on the internet than Jamil would ever.

But of course he would find out eventually. Of course, it's Azul.

You were giving him some song recommendations and avoiding your own so it wouldn't raise suspicion.

Unfortunately, you weren't fast enough as he realized you kept skipping a few songs right before the song hits the 3 second mark.

When he asked you why you kept skipping a few songs. You sweated and lied about the singer is not so good. You basically degraded yourself.

If course, it's not easy to fool your boyfriend. He snatched your phone away and looked at the current song you're about to skip.

He covered his mouth in shock. There was no doubt about it, that really is you. The voice, the looks, the stage name sounds like something you would name yourself, everything!

“Darling, why didn't you tell me? Do you not trust me?” You had to reassure him that was not the case and you just prefer not to get the attention and not make anyone annoy him about asking him questions about you.

You're just so special, aren't you? You're an idol beloved by everyone but you don't want the publicity and cause any problems, you're so sweet and precious.

He'll only brag occasionally. It's unprofessional for him to be cocky every single time of the day and he'll probably show off only to intentionally piss off someone.

“Darling, you shouldn't insult yourself! You're very good in singing and you amazingly breathtaking! So handsome.”

Seriously, how did you get away from him, Cater Diamond himself??

He's a social media God and even if he does suspects you several times, he's supposed to catch on sooner.

You have to admit, it was harder to hide away from him since he follows your account. Everytime he takes a selfie with the both of you, a lot of people comment asking him is that (stage name).

He would usually reply 'I wish lol but imagine if that happens 😳'. This makes you nervously laugh.

He always comments about how you always look like (S/N) all the time and you always nervously scratched your neck, feeling guilty.

He also joked about your voice being incredibly similar and how you could be the idol in disguise. My god you couldn't describe how much you want to run out of there as soon and possible.

You thought everything is going smoothly until the most dreadful statement came out of your boyfriend.

“(Y/N), do you want to go to (S/N)'S concert on Friday this week?” You had enough. You can't handle the torturous moments and can't keep up with the lies anymore. You have to tell him with a little twist to it. You said you were busy which means you have to keep denying your cute pouty sweetheart.

When you finally finished your concert, you called your boyfriend from the stage to go to the backstage. You can see the excitement in his eyes.

When you confessed that his statements about his number 1 favorite idol is also his boyfriend he's been dating for months, he went form speechless to hugging you tightly while screaming.

“Holy shit, I can't believe it, (Y/N)! I'm gonna tell everyone!” You sighed in relief as he reached out for his phone.

He's definitely gonna brag no matter what universe he's in. The publicity and increase amount of his followers in magicam is gonna be unbelievable. Just like Azul, he's gonna shove your relationship to everyone's face just to annoy them.

“(Y/N)-chan is so mean hiding such amazing secrets away from me, you're gonna pay the price~”

He's gonna be so surprised as to how you hide from him for more than 3 days. He's got good eyesight and very good at reading your heart.

You're sometimes we're scared that he caught on as he kept praising you like your fanbase would usually do. You never felt so relieved when you found out he's just like that.

He sometimes does comments how you look like your other side and how your voice sounds uncomfortably similar but that's just it.

It's a little bit easier to get away from him when it's about social media since he's not really the type to look to check social media daily.

He kept persistently asking you if that singer he adores so much was you, which you kept replying with of course, no.

But every single time you answered the same reply, your tone and confidence seems to be different, lowering down specifically. He probably already knew you are (S/N) now but he really wants you just give him a 'yes' instead of just believing in his own word.

While you were cuddling with him on his bed and about to fall asleep, you were playing a few songs as white noise to make you go to dreamland faster.

You didn't even realise your song was playing, your eyes were bleary and you could black out any moment.

Rook took the opportunity to asked you again if you were (S/N), he was both surprised and please when he finally got the answer he waited for.

With no hesitance, you said yes before drifting to sleep. He won this time, checkmate.

When you woke up, he told you about what happened last night with the usual smile while you're mouth was agape.

He might unintentionally brag by telling the whole campus how handsome you are, your angelic voice, how lovable and huggable your figure is, Vil is jealous.

“Mon trésor, there is no need to repent about your beauty, you are lovely in any shape of form, my sweet delicate dove~”

He adores your idol version of yourself and is probably the only real idol that he admires, the rest is probably his anime waifus or whatever.

Doesn't mean he doesn't love your backstage form too, he loves you too very much and thinks you're very handsome :)

It's just that your face reminds him of his favorite singer of all time. He's always making conspiracy theories about how you're (S/N)'s clone and you'll just laugh, knowing everything.

He once said that maybe you're an idol in secret, this made you sweat nervously as you shook it off.

Everytime he talks about your idol self to you, Ortho always asks if you're ok or not because you always felt a bit anxious and shaky as if you were about to get killed.

This made Idia raise suspicion. He wanted an answer as to why so he made up a plan.

He makes Ortho note your condition everytime he talks about (S/N).

His suspicions were right, you're always uncomfortable everytime he asks you if you're the idol version of yourself.

If he thinks he has enough tapes and audios of you literally shaking, he started negotiate you.

You had no escape as Ortho has trapped you in his room alone with your boyfriend. He kept taunting you with the same question 'are you (S/N)?' until you finally give in and told the truth.

Even though he got his victory, he still felt bad since you don't wanna talk to him for 3 days, causing him to cry like a baby.

He seriously can't believe it though, he just experienced something out of his mangas! He's beaming with joy.

He's only bragging on the internet only, there is no way he's gonna say anything in real life as you're wayyyy out of his league.

“You could have just told me, you know! I won't tell anyone if you're uncomfortable, I promise!”

You have no idea how much I loved writing this one but I got a creativity burnout when writing Idia lol~

-𝕸𝖎𝖗𝖎

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years ago

Text

Satisfied, Part 54

First

~~~

The lady’s watch beeped.

Marinette grinned as she pushed herself off of the couch. She dug into her bag and handed over a wad of cash. “Thanks, Linda.”

“Of course.” She watched the woman count it and then put it in her pocket. “I’ll see you next week.”

“Nah, I’m going to see my better therapist.”

Linda rolled her eyes. “Harley lets you give in to unhealthy coping mechanisms, that doesn’t make her better.”

“Lalalalala! Not listening!” Said Marinette, ducking out the door.

“Right! Don’t forget your homework! Five more good things about yourself!”

“Oh nooooooo you’re too far away I can’t hear you!”

Linda groaned. “Ladybug, please.”

She sighed and stopped. She turned around, flashing a small smile. “Fiiiiiine, I’ll do it.”

“And they can’t have anything to do with how you help others.”

Marinette cursed. “I should have kept walking.”

“Too late! Have a good week!”

She spun on her heel and threw a wave over her shoulder. “You too!”

“And tell Red Robin to stop by!”

“Will do!”

She hummed lightly and ducked into an ally. “Spots off,” she said. She opened her jacket pocket and let Tikki fly in. She’d stopped using her purse to hold the kwami a few years back when a guy had attempted to steal it and she’d nearly given away her identity trying to get it back. Besides, she never had to open her pocket, so there was no stress when she was paying for something.

She pulled a normal yoyo from her pocket and started playing with it as she walked out the other side.

Marinette glanced up and grinned as she spotted the familiar yellow and black outfits. Signal, Orphan, and Queen Bee had recently started doing daytime patrols. Crime had dramatically decreased since, and Bruce was more than a little bitter that he hadn’t thought about it.

She gave a tiny wave and grinned when they sent some of their own. Marinette had given up on trying to keep the fact that she was friends with pretty much every vigilante in Gotham a secret. It turns out you don’t have to worry about people coming after you to hurt your powerful friends when they are, in fact, afraid of said powerful friends.

She heard her phone go off in her pocket and grinned. Also, the publicity was amazing for her business. That was also good.

She grinned and opened a portal under herself, dropping into the Siren’s living room.

“Hey, darlin’,” said Harley, who was far too used to this by now to even blink.

“Kid’s here?” Asked a Catwoman from the kitchen.

“No. I was talking to the plants,” said Harley sarcastically.

Poison Ivy glanced up from watering her plants. “Hilarious. But please do, they grow better when you talk to them every day.”

Catwoman sighed. “Whatever. What do you want to eat, kid?”

Marinette plopped down on the couch. “I’m not a kid. I wasn’t even a kid when you met me.”

“Oh?”

“Yes!”

“Then why don’t you tell us your identity to prove it?”

She rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at Catwoman. “Do I look like I’m under eighteen?”

“Do I look like I’m older than thirty?” Catwoman retorted. When she saw the small smirk forming on Marinette’s face she quickly cut her off: “Don’t answer that.”

She huffed. “Think about it. It’s been ten years, do you really think I was eight when we met?”

“Who knows. Human kids all look the same to me.”

Marinette groaned. “I’m not -- you know what? I don’t care anymore.”

“You do, though,” cooed Harley.

A scowl made its way onto her face. “Whatever. Can I use the misty-thingy?”

Poison Ivy handed it over and Marinette spritzed Catwoman. The woman hissed and batted it away.

“I’m choosing dinner,” she said dangerously as she disappeared to the kitchen.

Marinette fought between the instincts to laugh and curse, handing the spritzer back to Poison Ivy. She rested her head on Harley’s lap and smiled to herself as the woman started to braid her hair.

“We still on for that raid on Sunday?” Asked Poison Ivy.

“Sure. I’ll see if I can get Red Hood to go.”

Harley laughed. “I’m sure Batman wouldn’t be too happy about that.”

“Has that ever stopped him before?”

“True, true.”

Catwoman emerged with what looked like a burnt brick. She dropped a plate of it onto Marinette’s lap.

“Eat up, kid.”

She went a little pale as she stared at the food in front of her.

“Well, you see, about that...” She opened a portal under herself and disappeared.

She heard a click from her earpiece and flicked it on.

“Right, found one. Looks like a normal mugging,” said Jason.

“Location?” Asked Damian.

Jason gave his general area and sighed. “Right. I’m heading in.”

She listened in on the fight as she hopped from rooftop to rooftop.

Ever since Dick had taken up the Batman mantle (Bruce had, for the most part, retired), he’d made a few changes to patrols.

The first thing he’d done was make it mandatory that they communicate when and where they were getting in fights and transmit the audio. There had been the usual amount of backlash that arises when the bats are asked to do something for their own good, but they’d stopped complaining that it wasn’t necessary when Tim had walked into the manor for coffee with a knife sticking out of his side.

(She was pretty sure that he’d done that on purpose, but whatever.)

Next, he’d set up rotations so people actually got sleep some nights. They switched between two teams. The first (and best) was made up of Jason, Marinette, and Damian. The rest of the time it would be Dick, Tim, and -- occasionally -- Bruce. Most criminals opted for nights with the second team. She never could figure out why --.

They heard the click of Jason’s gun and Dick’s voice cut in: “Don’t kill them!”

Jason scoffed. “What’re you gonna do if I do?”

“I… Mari, tell him not to kill them.”

“Jason --,” she began.

“I’ll buy you a coffee.”

“-- is a grown adult who can make his own decisions.”

She could practically feel Jason’s smirk as Dick cursed.

“Damn, why are you so easy to buy? I’ll... um…”

Bruce cut in: “I’ll build a starbucks in the room next to yours.”

Her eyes widened. “Jason, if you pull that trigger I will never talk to you again.”

“You wouldn’t be able to stay away.”

“Try me.”

There was a short silence and then the click of a safety turning back on. Jason mumbled about how it wasn’t fair, along with a lot of other colorful things.

Marinette, however, was grinning.

She slipped into the house and yawned.

Damian looked up from where he was petting Chaton on the couch.

She raised her eyebrows. “Not even gonna detransform?”

He sunk into his hooded jacket. “It’s comfy.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Whatever, give me my cat back.”

“He’s our cat.”

She huffed. “He’s my cat. Give him back.”

“Why don’t we let him choose?”

She scoffed lightly and crossed her arms over her chest. “Not while you’re still Kitten.”

“I told you to call me BatCat!”

“And I told you that I’d rather you beat me to death with a spoon.”

He stuck his tongue out at her and detransformed. They set the cat between the two of them and made cooing noises.

Chaton went to Damian without even sparing her a glance.

“Traitor,” she murmured.

Both of their phones went off and they checked them.

Ah. The Thesmartones chat. It included Riddler and every bat except for Dick

The partners both groaned and opened the chat.

Riddleboye: Can one of you test my new escape room?

Her phone blew up and she glanced at the different chat. Whohastodoriddlersriddlethistime.

Queenbee: Not it

Therealdamianwayne: Not it.

Bruecbrucewayne: not it

Redhoodiewastaken: not it :)

Brucesfavorite: not it

Coffeeismygirlfriendmarinetteismywife: Not it!

Imsurroundedbyidiots: Not it

She groaned when she realized she was the only one who hadn’t done it yet.

Notsleepingwasaconsciousdecision: i hate you all

Damian had the audacity to laugh. She sent him a tiny glare and kicked him in the side. He cursed and she was only saved from his wrath by the cat currently resting on his stomach.

She went back to the original chat.

Notsleepingwasaconsciousdecision: im free monday night

Riddleboye: Thanks!

Notsleepingwasaconsciousdecision: its fine see you then

She raised her eyebrows as she stepped into the room and saw Tim awake, clicking away at his laptop. This wasn’t exactly new (far from it, really) but it was still sometimes, somehow, surprising.

She changed into her now well-worn hoodie and crawled into bed. She picked up her newest project, a new costume for Red Hood, and started stitching.

He wrapped an arm around her and drew her close so he could type.

She rested her head against his chest. She stitched in time with his heartbeat.

Her eyes glanced over his screen and she sighed lightly. “No information yet?”

He shook his head. “Nope, still don’t know how to help lower his cortisol levels back to normal. There’s nothing on it.”

“Yeah, it’s almost as if no one else on Earth has Scarecrow’s problem.”

This earned an eye roll. He closed the many tabs on cortisol inhibitors and pulled up a spreadsheet for work. “It’s always ‘reduce stress!’ and ‘take fish oil!’ and other things that we’ve already tried.”

“Yeah, but there’s nothing else we can do. We just have to hope that his therapist can help him work through it.” She blinked. “That reminds me: Linda said that you need to see her.”

“But I don’t have to see her again until Wednesday!”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s Thurs -- actually…” She checked her phone. “Friday. It’s Friday.”

Tim cursed. “So, that’s what I forgot.”

“What, the week day or the therapy session?”

“Both.”

She rolled her eyes.

He pulled away slightly for a second to grab his drink and then handed her a coffee. “Behold. Just the way you like it.”

A blush rose to her cheeks as she took it from him. “Oh, sweetie, you shouldn’t have!”

“Don’t worry about it. I was already making some for myself and yours isn’t hard to make.”

She grinned. “It’s going to be easier to get from now on. I told you I could get Bruce to buy us a coffee shop.”

He huffed and rested his chin atop her head. “Shut up.”

“Eloquent.” She teased. “Anyways, I think I’ve achieved favorite kid status.”

Tim laughed. “Please, bean. You’re not even his favorite daughter. Remember that time he bought Cass an entire police station’s equipment?”

She rolled her eyes and set down her project so she could cross her arms over her chest. “Shut up.”

“Eloquent,” he said, a cheeky grin on his face.

She laughed and tipped her head back to press a kiss to his lips. “I’ve decided I’m getting a divorce.”

He finally set his computer down, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her onto his lap. “You wouldn’t. You love me.”

She smiled and reached up, cupping his cheeks in her hands. “I do.”

Marinette pulled him down for another kiss.

~~~

Holy shit. It’s over.

Right, I’m going to get sappy for a minute so if you don’t want that then I would like to just thank you for reading! You can stick around if you’d like and if not then I hope you have a good life! <3

Okay, now for the emotions stuff.

For context, I’ve been writing a book for the better part of three years. Writing a book is... hard. Shocking, I know. But, in all seriousness, I’m not even halfway through.

I was getting really burned out on writing, and one of my creator friends suggested I do a ‘break project’. I didn’t want to jump into another book but I wanted to keep writing, so I said ‘fuck it I’ll go back to my roots fanfiction it is’.

I’d been reading a lot of Daminette lately, so I decided to put my own spin on the ship and write a cute fluffy fanfiction of around 30k words. Ha.

But, seriously, this project has been really therapeutic for me. It’s showed me that I can actually write a decent story, that people enjoy my writing, that I don’t need to go back and change things constantly...

This was kind of supposed to be a one-time thing and then I was going to disappear, but I found myself actually enjoying writing fanfiction.

I don’t know.

The plan is now to continue. I have another fic that I’m currently plotting out. It won’t be daily uploads, because each ‘chapter’ is going to be an arc in itself and I don’t want to rush that. I’m not going to give too much of it away, but it’s another mlb x dcu crossover so stick around if you want some of that.

Since I’m still in the planning phase and all the chapters are going to take ages, I’m opening up requests. Feel free to submit a prompt. Or ask me questions if you’d like. I’ll answer in 2-3 business months.

With love,

‘Olivia’

Taglist

@comet-kun @thatonecroc @trippingovermyfeet @swiftie-miraculer13 @nickristus-dreamer @moongoddesskiana @i-am-ironic @indecisive-mess-named-me @thebooki3h @insane-fangirl-of-everything @deepestobservationwombat @theymakeupfairies @fatimaabbasrizvi @clumsy-owl-4178 @fanofalittletoomuch @iamablinkmarvelarmy @nathleigh @lilkymilky @silvergold-swirl @dino-lovingreen-angel @thestressmademedoit @kissa-chan @ladybug-182 @alysrose-starchild @t1dwarrior-of-earth @spyofthenightcourt @rowanrouge @nik-nak-3 @momothefemur @aestheticnpoetic @labschaos @our-preciousss @mochinek0 @eliza-bich @mythogaychic @severelyenchantedwonderland @sashakoi @smolplantmum @bluesimani @tropestropestropes @kitsunebell @keepingupwiththemalfoys @sassakitty @2confused-2doanything @too0bsessedformyowngood @all-mights-asscheeks @demonicbusiness @meg-an-ace @fantasiame @qualitypeacepainter @multplelifes @kokotaru @spicybelladonna @ultimatetornshipper @cute-angi @blu-raydisc

#timinette #timari #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #tim drake #satisfied #maribat #red robin

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leonawriter · 4 years ago

Text

Okay so, yesterday Aja on Twitter kindly wrote up some of the differences between the Dead Apple movie and the stage play. Here it is, if you want to read it.

My problem is that despite the script having been written by Asagiri, there’s a strange juxtaposition here - a love of making references to events that happened in the past, or previous books that have been released since Dead Apple first premiered, while at the same time having a certain disregard for characterisation continuity.

I’m not going to copy the images into this post, but assuming you’ve got it in another tab or something-

Starting with the first image, and in the first lines, we have Atsushi not finding Dazai. The graveyard scene doesn’t happen. Personally, I liked having it there, because it emphasises how Atsushi can find Dazai when no one else can, and it has Dazai explaining to Atsushi that if it weren’t for Odasaku, he’d still be “in the mafia, killing people.” The fact that this scene has Atsushi calling Dazai out on being a better person than he thinks he is, is vital for setting the scene for the entire rest of the movie - since Dazai spends most of it among people who are encouraging his manipulative and dark side, we needed the graveyard scene to tell us that Atsushi’s belief in Dazai isn’t just blind. There’s something to it.

The second part here has Atsushi meeting Shibusawa in person, and thinking he’s a “kind person.” This... goes completely against everything in the movie. The entire premise of the movie for Atsushi’s arc is that the very sight of that man’s image on a report triggers PTSD flashbacks. No way in hell would he think Shibusawa is a “kind person.” That’s just so wrong.

The other side of the image now, and we have... okay, Chuuya tasking Akutagawa with tracking Shibusawa makes a certain amount of sense. That’s an executive telling a subordinate what the mission is, and it fits. However, “Dazai attacks Akutagawa and makes him pass out” does not. Dazai is never shown to use this sort of violence since his defection from the mafia, instead using manipulation of other people to achieve the same result. Likewise, this goes in opposition to Dazai’s actions regarding Akutagawa in the main series, where he seems to be wanting to encourage him, which I personally take as Dazai wanting to make right what he did wrong all those years ago, but still not being great at it. This here, would be a step backwards.

Chuuya’s ability not separating from him at this point in the story because Arahabaki is a different kind of ability could potentially make some sort of sense. However, it also would have to fit thematically with the fact that Atsushi’s ability, which is seen as a literal part of Atsushi, does separate from him. And so does Fyodor’s. Why does Chuuya still have his, and the others don’t? Even with the explanations here I’m still confused. Also, Dead Apple - as in, the movie script - was being written around the same time as Asagiri was writing Fifteen, so there’s no reason why he couldn’t have told the scriptwriters to throw that in at the time, if he wanted to.

Following on from that, we have... Chuuya telling Akutagawa to kill Dazai? I’m sorry, but knowing that Chuuya is later going to risk his life in order to save Dazai - never mind that the rest of the city is at stake too! - makes this feel off. But what’s worse, is that we now have what I feel is a reversal of characterisations; here, in the stage play, it’s Akutagawa who’s saying that Dazai now wants peace in Yokohama, when in the movie he was solidly following orders, more reminiscent of the way he threatened Dazai in the dungeon scene.

But we also have Chuuya saying that he’d known Dazai for seven years, and that “there’s a monster inside of Dazai that no one can understand” which, when considering their entire backstory, doesn’t make sense! Same goes for Akutagawa saying that he does understand Dazai. Chuuya in the past has been shown to understand Dazai’s plans without the need for discussion, and those hearing them talk about plans haven’t been able to understand what they’re saying, because they’re on the same wavelength. Even outside of the line said by someone that “Chuuya [...] understands Dazai’s true motives.”

Aside from all that, we have Akutagawa’s statement being in conflict with canon:

Those are Akutagawa’s own words, by the way.

Still in the same scene, and we have Chuuya taunting Akutagawa and telling him that his constant “Dazai-san, Dazai-san!” (following him like a lost puppy/being a sycophant) is what makes Dazai not approve of him, and if he doesn't deal with the fog he’ll remain weak.

I can understand to a certain extent that the characters are all going to be stressed and that’s going to affect how they talk to one another. But this feels strange compared to how Chuuya is characterised talking to Akutagawa on the same subject in the Port Mafia Onsen drama CD, as well as another audio scene where Chuuya, Akutagawa, and Kajii are having soup. In the stage play, he might be telling the truth, but it’s in a way that hurts; in the audio plays, he acts more as a mentor, and as a mother hen to all of his subordinates. I personally see the latter as the more realistic version, and the only way that I can see the former being a thing is the stress of heightened emotions and the tension of Chuuya wondering if he’s really as safe as he says he is.

Skipping past the parts on the white trio, as I don’t feel that those bits really affect and change things so much, and I get to parts with Akutagawa, Atsushi, and Kyouka. To be honest my main issue here is that Akutagawa is saying way too much. This feels like those three are together and talking more for humour than anything? Atsushi should be able to list off more than just Kyouka’s likes and dislikes from her character profile!

And to be clear, by “Akutagawa is saying way too much” I mean about letting on secrets. He says things about Kyouka that should be hers to reveal, such as the part about her parents - which in the movie, doesn’t get brought up at all, with Atsushi finding out about the phone being her mother’s and that it controls Demon Snow. As far as I remember, he shouldn’t learn about her parents until the manga chapter that’s revealed in. More importantly, though, he makes a thinly veiled reference to Verlaine; surely, if Verlaine is such a heavily guarded secret that he can’t come out into the light of day due to every authority thinking him dead, Akutagawa should not be mentioning his existence in a way that anyone could casually mention to someone they shouldn’t.

The banter between the three of them then goes back to, uh... bickering? Cheap shots? I dunno, it makes them all seem immature in ways I’m not sure about.

Following on from that, we have Akutagawa talking to Kyouka with a “gentle” voice, which to me feels off, because if this is supposed to be set before the Cannibalism arc, that’s before the first time Akutagawa says “I’m happy for you” which is the first time he seems to treat her with any real kindness. So, uh. Yeah.

Shibusawa killing “Fyodor” right after Dazai feels weird, and given later explanations, needlessly complicated.

Ango asking Chuuya to deal with the dragon feels like it’s handled weirdly - if I remember right, in the movie Chuuya only appears after the dragon has formed. The movie version, I think, works better due to making it seem as though both Ango and Chuuya are more aware of the pressing danger. That’s my preference, though.

About the ending - the headmaster saying that if Atsushi had known about having killed Shibusawa, it would have crushed him mentally, makes sense. The multiple times the headmaster appeared in the movie were to warn Atsushi not to open the door to his memory of that day. One nice little bit of extra context that works.

However, Dazai reappearing and having the same conversation as in the movie with Atsushi saying that he was the one who saved them, doesn’t work quite as well without the graveyard scene. Instead it just makes me think of how through the play, Dazai has hardly done many things worthy of being called “good,” has he... which makes it feel like Atsushi in the play is placing his blind faith in Dazai more than the Atsushi in the movie.

Ango offering his life for what has happened due to his part in things (small though it was, which Chuuya acknowledges) emphasises the way that he’s dealing with his own self-hatred here. However, I’ll admit that I preferred this conversation taking place on the helicopter, before Chuuya goes to fight the dragon, rather than afterward. Because if it’s before, the feeling of the scene is shifted more toward knowing that Chuuya might not come back at all, and that these could be his last words not just to them, but at all. Having Chuuya’s potential last words include “I don’t actually blame you” was powerful.

Akutagawa not bowing to Chuuya at the ending and being unwilling to help (or so it seems) feels weird compared to how he’s shown being respectful to his superiors in almost all other appearances. I liked Chuuya saying that as far as he’s concerned, Dazai’s already acknowledged him, and he (Chuuya) does at least, though.

The closing scene with Chuuya talking to Mori feels like - I can understand why Mori wouldn’t appear in person, given the situation with his actor, but they could have handled something to emulate the way the scene was in the movie. I think that they attempted to put some of that into the Chuuya-Akutagawa scene (what with them talking about how Dazai included both of them in his plans), but Mori saying that specifically to Chuuya was important, as it’s Mori who Chuuya respects.

On “other points,” it’s stated that Akutagawa is the one to land the final blow in defeating Byakko; this goes against the movie’s statement that the ability user must defeat their own ability.

So... all in all, I feel like there’s a lot here that could have been improved if they’d just stuck closer to the way the movie felt, and what happened there, rather than changing things so much.

There’s also a lot of references to things in the light novels that don’t always necessarily work - especially when some of those things might be top secret! Or such as when Chuuya talks about his ability, it seems to me that it’s not the sort of thing he’d normally be so open about. It feels as though the play treated such things as free reign to use and reference, rather than adding them in only when it makes sense.

I think the biggest thing though, is that the characterisation continuity doesn’t seem to be there at so many points. There are so many places where I can just grab out the manga (as I did once above) and point out that the stage play goes directly against established canon characterisation. Or drama CDs that have been accepted as good characterisation as they feel as though they’re correct portrayals, yet the stage play shows a different version of the characters than we saw (heard) in those.

This makes it hard to accept, as someone who puts a lot of stock in continuity. Continuity means no plot holes, no “but wait, that doesn’t make sense when you take [x] into consideration” and no “but didn’t they say [x] earlier, they’re contradicting themself.”

There were parts I read about that seemed nice, or decent additions, but the general impression I get is one of extreme frustration.

I saw someone - the OP of the translations, I think - say that they were upset with Chuuya for treating Akutagawa like this, but I can’t help but feel that it isn’t Chuuya I’m upset with, because Chuuya is a character. Perhaps unlike some, I don’t put authors on a pedestal; yes, the series belongs to them, and their word is god in terms of characterisation and so on, but they’re also a human being. And besides, it’s not a bad thing to be able to argue with “god” and say “hey, you said [this] ages ago, but now you’re saying [that], why’s that?” and hope for an answer that makes sense. If Asagiri approved of the content of the drama CDs, WAN, and the movie itself, why are they changing so many things now? I can’t help but wonder.

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #all opinions are mine

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illfoandillfie · 4 years ago

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can we get A12 from prompt list 3 w/ himbo roger? pls its for my health - ☁️

Apologies that this is a bit late! I always find hypno stuff takes a bit longer, especially since I try and base it on files that already exist. Speaking of this was very much inspired by THIS hypno audio intended for a penis-having audience.

Anyway, did you know that erotic hypno is a whole ass subgenre of phone sex because that’s what I learned today! Also I felt like this scenario screamed hands free orgasm so oop that’s what ya getting

A12: Phone/video sex

After the first day of the conference where you were presenting about the steps your organisation was taking to reduce the rates of homelessness, all you wanted was to talk to Roger. He picked up quickly, sighed a tired hello into the phone, though his tone picked up when he realised it was you.

“I missed you,”

“Rog it’s been like 24 hours since I saw you,”

“Yeah I know. But today was…not great. Kinda just feel like being with you.”

“What happened?”

“Oh, nothing, not important. Tell me about your day, Ms Making-A-Difference,”

“Oh y’know, spent most of the day listening to various people speak. I got to meet some incredible people and learn about some really important work that they’re doing. But it’s honestly not the most thrilling thing in the world. The last session went on for like three hours. My presentation went well though, people seemed to respond favourably. Hopefully the panel tomorrow is just as good.”

“I am so proud of you,”

“Thanks. Now you go, what happened today that’s got you feeling down?” Roger sighed again, “Oh the usual band nonsense. Got into it with Bri about one of his contributions to the new album. It’s dumb and we’ll both be over it by tomorrow but right now I am sick of his shit.”

“Sorry I can’t be there to make you feel better,”

“It’s fine, hearing your voice is enough. Although, there might be something else you can do…Put me under?”

“Over the phone?”

“Why not?”

“I- Will that even work? Normally it’s face to face,”

“Yeah but it’s all about your voice and instructions. Distance shouldn’t matter,”

You considered what he said, ideas of what you could do already forming, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes, let’s try. Just give me two minutes to lock the door so we aren’t interrupted,” you set the phone down and headed to the door, slipping your do not disturb hanger onto the outside handle, and then began stripping down to your underwear. Dropping your work clothes into a pile beside your suitcase, you knelt down and began digging through your neatly packed belongings until you located the small vibrator you’d begun travelling with.

“Okay, back,” you said as you settled against the mattress, “are you comfy?”

“Very. Was already in bed when you called,”

“What are you wearing?”

“Bit cliché,” he laughed, “but um, my PJ pants,”

“Is that all?”

“Well I have undies on too,”

“You wanna change, remove some layers?”

“Slip into something more comfortable?”

“Exactly,” you chuckled, your excitement rising as you heard Roger stand up and remove his clothes.

“Alright, I’m starkers now,”

“Good boy. I was thinking we might play hands free,”

“And what does that mean?”

“Very simply, you’re going to drop for me, down down down, drop into that place you enjoy so much. Nothing to think about. No worries. No thoughts. Just the desire to please…” You’d hypnotised Roger enough times to know what worked for him and what didn’t, though it felt odd to be putting him under without any of the usual visual cues. But his breath was steady and deep and his voice was soft, almost far away, when he responded to your questions. You talked to him for a little longer than you normally would feel necessary, just to make sure everything stuck the way you wanted it to.

“That’s right, nice deep breaths. Now put your free hand over your head so it touches the headboard, okay? And stretch your legs out to the corners of the bed.” Roger hummed acknowledgement and you hoped that meant he’d followed the instruction.

“When I wake you, you wont be able to move your hands or feet. The hand over your head will be tied to the headboard, restrained, keeping you in place on the bed. Your feet will be tied down too, making it impossible to move. Your other hand will be glued to the phone so you can’t move it or touch yourself. You’ll be stuck in place, stuck listening to me, stuck, stuck, stuck. Okay, I’m going to count down from ten now. And when I reach one, you’ll be in such a deep, dumb state, that my words will become your complete and absolute reality. And you’ll feel so good just letting it happen, letting me take control. You’ll be so deep, so deep and dumb, and everything will feel so real. Connecting your mind and your body to my words, bringing you all those pleasurable sensations you are capable of feeling. Ten. Deeper and deeper, dumber and dumber. Nine. Just listening to me, to my voice and my words. Eight. Feeling everything so strongly, believing everything I say. Seven. Down, down, down, deeper and deeper. Six. Letting yourself relax. Five. And letting me take control. Four. Such a nice sensation. Three. Going deeper and deeper down. And the deeper you go, the dumber you are and the better you feel. And the better you feel the deeper you want to go. Two. Letting the cycle take you deeper and dumber and deeper. One.” You snapped your fingers into the receiver, “wake up,”

Roger hummed again.

“Hi baby,”

“Where are you? I can’t see you,”

“Of course not silly. I’m on the phone. I couldn’t be there with you but that doesn’t mean you can’t be my silly little plaything, does it? How do you feel?”

“Oh! Stuck!”

You heard a grunt as Roger tried to break free of his restraints, “Aww, poor boy, all tied up. But you’re turned on my it, aren’t you,”

“Yes,” his voice was soft as if he didn’t want to admit it.

“That’s so good! I want you to be turned on!”

“You do?”

“Such a Dummy. Of course I want you to be turned on. Because I’m going to do something special for you right now. It’s why you’re tied up. I’m going to make you cum and I don’t want you touching yourself and rushing it. You’re going to let me give you a blow job.”

“But…cunt?”

“If you’re good and let me hear how much you like my blowjob, you’ll make me so wet. I love listening to you.”

“Okay,”

“Good boy, I promise it’s going to be so much fun,”

“Now, close your eyes and think about me. Imagine me there with you. Naked. Kneeling between your spread legs. Feel the rope around your wrist and your ankles, really feel it. What’s it like?”

“Umm, tight. Rough. I can’t move. But it doesn’t hurt!”

“I hope not, I want you to feel good. Now, feel my fingers trace a line up your thigh,” Roger let out a small huff of air, “it tickles,”

“Yeah?” you smiled to yourself, happy it seemed to be working, “Feel now as I drag my finger higher up your thigh. Feel every sensation from my touch, slowly creeping up your leg. Feel your skin tingle where I touch you. Warm and wonderful. It’s like my fingers are activating your nerve endings wherever I touch you, making you feel nothing but pleasure. Let yourself feel it, that electrifying tingle running from where I touch you all the way up to your brain. Arousing you.” Roger’s breath came out shakier than before.

“And as my fingers drift up to your stomach, feel the warm trail follow. Across your stomach and then down to your cock. I bet that felt good. My hand, wrapping around your cock. You’re getting hard aren’t you?”

A small whimper, “Yes,”

“Good. I like how you feel, getting stiff in my hand. It turns me on. Makes my cunt wet and my mouth drool.” It wasn’t a total lie either. You weren’t drooling exactly but as you shifted your thighs together you could feel how wet you were. Roger groaned and you heard him shift.

“Uh uh uh, stay nice and still and let me pleasure you. I’m not going to release the ropes that bind you until you’re finished.”

He stilled again with another huff.

“Good boy. Just relax and feel my touch. Feel how hungry I am for your cock as I lower myself between your legs, stroking my hand over you. You look so big and hard in my hand. And that makes me want to taste you even more. Feel my hand move up and down your shaft as I lean in and press a kiss to the tip of your cock. You can feel my breath too, can’t you. My warm breath as I lick my lips, so ready to taste you. I can’t wait any more. I press my tongue to the base of your shaft and lick up to your tip.”

Another noise from Roger, too quiet.

“Let me here you Dummy. Let me hear how good I make you feel as I drag my tongue back down again.”

“Fuck,”

“Good Dummy. I lick back up to your lip again, flick my tongue along the underside of it. And you can feel that, can’t you? I say it so your brain feels it and your cock feels it too. My tongue flicking against you again. And again. Up and down. And again. It’s such a sensitive spot. It feels so good that your cock twitches.”

Roger’s breathing had lost all of the calm rhythm you’d put him under with. It was ragged and heavy as he waited for what you were going to do next, unable to move or speed you up.

“I think your balls need some attention now. My hand moves over your shaft again but you can feel my mouth against your balls. Feel as I kiss you there. A hot, wet kiss. Feel as I run my tongue over them. Enough to drive you crazy with lust. Especially when I suck one of your balls into my mouth. Let me hear you beg for me to suck your cock.”

“Please, please suck my cock. I’m so hard and I want you so bad.”

“You’re so good for me so I’m going to reward you. Feel my lips on your shaft again, leaving more wet kisses all around your cock. And up, up, up. Until I finally put my mouth around the tip of your cock,”

“Oh fuck, thank you,”

“So polite. You feel so much pleasure, just from this. Just my mouth around your tip. But you can feel more. And you do feel more as you watch me slide just that bit further down your cock. Feel how warm and wet my mouth is as I take more of you. Such intense pleasure. But you’re at my mercy now. Tied down for me to use, for me to control. You’re lucky I love sucking your cock. And I do love it. I’m so wet just from having you in my mouth. And you can feel how much I love it by how eagerly I take you. Feel that sucking motion now. Stretching my mouth to take even more of you, even further down your cock. And feel my hands on your hips, grabbing hold of you tight as I take you deeper. Adding to the pleasure.”

Roger’s moans were uninhibited and enthusiastic, and it was more than you could handle without some relief. As quickly as you could without disrupting what he was experiencing, you shuffled down the bed and peeled your knickers off one handed, tracing your fingers along your slit and around your clit.

“You can feel how deep I’m taking you now. Deep enough to choke on you, just a little. Gag around you. Feel my lips drag back up and then all the way back down again. Taking you as far as I can. One hand sliding down to cup your balls, massage them in my palm as I fill my throat with your cock. It feels so good. You’re so close. On the brink of cumming. And then it stops. I pull back off you, let go of you.”

Roger whined down the phone line.

“My mercy, remember. I am so fucking horny right now, so fucking wet. All from sucking you off. But you’re going to lie there, desperate, and listen to me get off before I’ll let you. Feel it as I wrap my lips around your tip again, sucking. And as I suck I get closer to orgasm.” You reached for the vibrator, pressing it to your clit, trying to keep your moan quiet so the next room wouldn’t hear you.

“You can fe-el it when I moan, feel it in your c-cock. Fuck. I sink lower. Suck harder. I’m so close baby,” you couldn’t get any more words out as the vibrator buzzed against you. But Roger was so lost in the sensation it didn’t matter. He believed everything, felt everything just as you described. Your orgasm hit and your hand tightened around the phone, Roger’s whines and harsh breaths audible as you rode it out. You turned the vibrator off and dropped it.

“Christ. You feel me moan again and rise up to your tip once more. Sucking so hard, begging you to fill my mouth with your cum. Cum for me baby.” You knew it had worked by the hitch in his breath and the stuttered moan that followed. “Good boy. Didn’t that feel so good? And now, you can feel yourself relaxing again as the ropes around your wrist and ankles loosen…”

“Holy shit Y/N,” Roger said softly, half laughing, “You’re an evil genius.”

“Well I wouldn’t say genius. But I am pretty great.”

“I am covered in cum. I don’t think I’ve ever ejaculated quite so much.”

“I think you should document visual proof because I can think of at least two occasions that might have been more. Was it good enough to turn your day around though?”

“Absolutely. I can’t even remember why I felt so shitty.”

“I’m very glad to hear that,”

“Thank you. But it’s getting late, you should probably go to bed since you’ve got to speak again tomorrow.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Plus, you’ll want to have some energy left when I call tomorrow night to return the favour.”

#my writing #my blurbs #smut blurb #roger taylor smut #roger taylor x reader #☁️#thank you for giving me an excuse to write more himbo rog #i think i leaned more heavily on the hypnosis part than the bimbo part in this #but either way he is very fun to play with lmao #Anonymous

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everything-withered · 4 years ago

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Despite what other people might think, literature major Kurosaki Ichigo and law student Kuchiki Rukia were not dating . . . or were they? -- prompt: ichiruki through the eyes of nosy college classmates.

Okay. So. I tried to write them as students. But. They ended up being professors (in Ichigo's case) instead? Yikes. Outsider POV is really not my wheelhouse and I found it really hard to make college students care about each other's drama so I hope this is alright.

When classes have to be shifted online, students around the country who've witnessed their professors struggle with power point on a daily basis, collectively shudder.

But those under the tutelage of Professor Kurosaki are spared the dismay for his classes.

Professor Kurosaki Ichigo is not like other lecturers. He's young, he's good looking, and thank every god above, Professor Kurosaki is also good with technology.

With him, classes aren't all that different to real life lectures which is a relief, but some students bemoan the lack of his physical presence. Though that has less to do with the quality of education as much as it does the purveyor himself.

Professor Kurosaki has a bit of a reputation.

He's one of the youngest educators on campus, and practically inhuman given his meteoric rise to academic stardom especially since, as the rumors go, Professor Kurosaki isn't some prodigy, he's simply a workhorse who's too stubborn to quit.

It's a work ethic he pushes onto his students, and they shoulder it admirably.

Though, not for nothing.

Besides being the youngest professor, he also happens to be the most good looking, a feat that isn't just attributed to youth but also to pure magnetism. There's something very. Attractive. About Professor Kurosaki.

It's obvious even through a pixelated screen.

He's confident, but quiet about it. Serious, and sharp. He's always direct and doesn't dance around a topic, and he has a way of making you feel important when his attention is on you -- which is perhaps one of the best things about having lectures through a screen, it feels like you are.

Until, of course, you realize you aren't.

That day is today: pausing for a moment to take a sip of water, Professor Kurosaki glances just above the camera and smiles.

And the private group chat collectively loses its mind, and it spills out into the group chat accompanying the stream for the lecture itself.

Pausing to glance down at the screen again, Professor Kurosaki's eyes narrow, his expression shifting to his more familiar scowl as he dismissed the deluge of question marks (and some braver "What are you smiling at??") with "That's enough, you know better by now than to ask about my personal life."

Which is perhaps, the only caveat to Professor Kurosaki: him being intensely private that the only thing anyone in the student body knows about him that isn't shrouded in rumor is what's on his profile on the university website. The bare bones. The minimum. It's agonizing.

Not even the most advanced of internet stalkers among them can get anything more than that, and if not for an incredibly locked down Instagram account, they'd think their beloved professor simply appeared one day fully formed from the ether.

As it stands Professor Kurosaki is standing before the camera looking unimpressed, and the class' curiousity is punished with another load of essays due.

This doesn't stop the more persistent of the class from trying to gather intel from wherever they can get it: starting with what can be gleaned from Professor Kurosaki's home. While he usually shares his screen when he lectures, there's the in between moments when he's just sitting before the camera or pacing in front of it as he talks, or simply setting up or shutting down the stream. It's a goldmine of moments.

One person in the private group chat reports framed photographs on the shelf. The light always hits the glass so they can't make out the faces, but they're sure a later or earlier lecture could yield results if someone looks. It's on the left corner, is the instruction . If you've got a morning or late afternoon lecture, keep an eye out!

Another says, "I saw some kind of pet bed in the corner once too, when he was still setting up. Does Prof have a dog??"

Then, "I saw a lady's shoes on the ground when he was still setting up. Did you see them?? AM lecture yesterday??? Is Prof married???" which is followed by vehement denies because of course not and we would've noticed a ring by now and then, "women in the photographs are his sisters, maybe one of them is staying with him during quarantine?" And yes. Yes, that's feasible.

Except the next time, thanks to a student who'd read the time wrong and arrived too early to the stream, spends it listening to Professor Kurosaki set up for the lecture with the screen tilted onto the keys; they catch snatches of conversation between the professor and someone who very clearly isn't one of his sisters:

"You look tired."

"Thanks, that's exactly what a woman wants to hear," a female voice says, sarcastic and fond. And while there isn't much of a view, lacking in faces for one, the student can see the two bodies standing close enough to touch without actually doing any touching, a gravitational pull that's being resisted by sheer force of will. Then, voice softer than they've heard it ever, Professor Kurosaki tells her, "Go back to bed, the court documents can wait."

"My name's on the door," is the response that sounds like a whine which makes Professor Kurosaki chuckle. "It's Byakuya's too, he can sort it out. I'll make you breakfast when I'm done with class."

There's a sigh, dramatic and long suffering. "Promises, promises, Ichigo."

By then, there's more people in the stream logged in and listening, the private group chat is a mess of epic proportions: Professor Kurosaki has a woman in his life. He cooks her breakfast. She works with court documents, is she a lawyer? Who's Byakuya? We need answers people!

Whoever Byakuya is ends up being the key, though this is only realized later because the class is side tracked by the momentary affection on Professor Kurosaki's face, a tenderness so breathtaking no one says anything for awhile. Which is all well and good because Professor Kurosaki is not pleased with the direction of the conversation in the steam's chat. To the questions of "is that your wife?" He scowls and says, "That's none of your business."

And in his defense, it's not.

Until it is.

The quarantine is getting to everyone, Professor Kurosaki included. The woman doesn't appear again, though there have been reports of a woman's shoes in the background and a cardigan that looks too small to be Professor Kurosaki's, and if his class is disappointed, so must he. Except, "They must be in quarantine together...did they have a fight?"

Which thus begins the great advice giving of May 2020 wherein everyone throws in some casual dating wisdom about apologizing for whatever dumb thing you did, and how to compromise, and what to do to get out of the dog house and stop sleeping on your couch.

Professor Kurosaki must think it's some kind of late April fool's joke or something because he's kind of pissed about it for awhile.

Right until he forgets to end the stream, and few stragglers witness him resting his head on his arms and moaning as he mutters, "What the fuck is wrong with me?"

The audio picks up a growl, and Professor Kurosaki dismisses this with a, "I know, Kon, I know."

When he starts to bang his head on his desk, the students still on the stream start to worry, though thankfully the woman appears.

No one had really known what to expect, but it certainly wasn't her.

Where Professor Kurosaki has cut a famous figure in his jeans and a leather jacket, this woman is soft as a watercolour painting: she is a sunrise in a sweet, misty yellow sundress, what remains of the night sky clinging to her black hair and space blue eyes. Her voice is alarmed, but grounding, "Ichigo, what the hell?"

Professor Kurosaki is so startled he vaults up from his seat behind the desk, completely missing that the livestream is still on his screen. "What? No, I'm fine."

There's a scoff. "You've been acting weird for days, don't lie to me."

"Rukia..."

"Is this because of Saturday?" Is the question. "We were drunk, and ridiculous, and."

"Rukia -"

"Other people sleep together all the time" she says affecting a calm tone though there's a hint of desperation beneath it, "It doesn't have to mean anything."

The private group chat buzzes. The chat on the stream stays mercifully silent.

"We're not other people, at least not to each other," he finally says.

A sigh. "No, we're not."

Almost like a reflex, Professor Kurosaki absently reaches out to his laptop screen, and says quietly, just before they're all shut out, "And I want it to mean something so. What now, Rukia?"

The search for who Rukia is ends twenty minutes later: Kuchiki Rukia, lawyer, philanthropist and university alumni; she's the shining star of Sereitei's highest social circles, the only daughter of the Kuchiki family and the proud dog mom to a pitbull named Kon.

The intrigue continues.

By the time classes resume in person, Professor Kurosaki has revealed nothing. Rukia does not appear in the following streams.

There's a temptation to ask, but there's no doubt the professor will deny it.

Which is why when a student spots Rukia on campus, the group chat lights up.

A student still in Professor Kurosaki's lecture hall slows in packing away their things as Rukia enters, and it feels like Professor Kurosaki's entire class is holding their breathes.

Rukia and Professor Kurosaki, however, don't notice, and with an exchanged kiss in greeting as natural as a breath exhaled, the group chat lights up again.

The student is sufficiently embarrassed when, called forth by Professor Kurosaki about what they think they're doing, and show me your phone if it's nothing, then the last message insists: pics or it didn't happen!

Rukia laughs so hard, her happiness all but lights her up, and oh, the student can see how Professor Kurosaki could be in love. And from his expression to the one Rukia returns to him, amused and fond and tender in one, the student wonders why no one's seen it before at all.

#ichiruki #deathberry

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sinsatmidnight · 5 years ago

Text

Diner Date

Pairing - Yves (Ha Sooyoung) x Male Reader

Words - 4202

Sins - Smut, teasing, footsie, oral, public sex, exhibitionism, clothed sex, noona kink, handjob, anal.

So this took a little longer than I had anticipated, and should have been up a while ago but I’m having troubles with my ISP. So I know that there was some anticipation for this sequel to Donation (which you can read first if you haven’t or need a refresher at this link), and I hope it doesn’t disappoint!

Anyway, on the flip side, this is also the longest work I have here so far! Okay, you’ve waited long enough, so I hope you enjoy this!

A part of you had wondered. Maybe Yves, the medical intern who helped you with getting your sperm sample, was just doing her job. Maybe she didn’t mean it when she said she wanted to suck your cock badly and that she wanted to arrange for, in her own words, “a facefucking appointment”.

All of that was put to rest very quickly. A week on from your appointment to donate your sperm, Yves has had phone sex with you on three of the past nights. Two of those were video calls, one of the video calls had a striptease followed by her humping a pillow she placed a dildo on, and the other one was of her deepthroating a dildo while nude for you to see.

Oh, and don’t forget the ten-minute long audio recording she sent you of herself masturbating till orgasm all while softly moaning your name, on the night of the very first day you met her.

So yeah, she definitely wasn’t kidding about being friends with benefits. For the past couple of nights though, you’ve had no calls and no recordings. But you did have plans to meet up. And Yves sent you a message saying that she wanted to make sure you had plenty of cum for her for when you met up.

Which all helps explain why you were entering an American-style diner novelty restaurant in a quiet part of Seoul a little bit after nine at night. Yves set the location and the time, saying that her friend owned the restaurant.

As you walk into the restaurant, you look around for Yves. The restaurant is quite empty right now, there is one young male waiter behind the counter and a young couple at one corner table. A Taylor Swift song softly plays over the speakers. And on the opposite side of the restaurant, is Yves seated at a somewhat private corner booth seat. Your eyes meet, and a sly smirk quickly adorns Yves’ face. She beckons you over with a finger.

You walk over to take a seat across from Yves, who is dressed in casual clothing: a white tee, oversized red jacket, a short and tight black mini-skirt, black socks that started just above the knee and white sneakers. As you reach the table and sink into your red pleather seat, you can’t help but notice and admire the way the roughly knee-length socks accentuate Yves’ slender legs so well, ending off where her thighs started and not far from the hem of her short skirt.

“Eyes up here.” You quickly tear your eyes away from under the table to see Yves chuckling at your reaction. “You’ve only just arrived and you’re already only interested in what’s under my skirt? Give my face some credit!”

“Sorry. I’d happily give your face as much as attention as you want, for however long you want.”

“That’s a good boy.” Yves coos coyly in reply. “I like that idea. Very, very much.” She then passes you a menu. “But first, since you’re here, do you want or need to order anything?”

You only just notice that there’s a small plate of thick crinkle-cut French fries sitting on the table with what looks like a white mayo dip. Yves grabs one thick, fat fry and slowly, deliberately, places the tip of the fry against her lips. Her mouth then parts to give it entry and you watch as the crinkle cut fry disappears into her mouth, one ridge at a time. It stops halfway in, and then slowly reverses direction right before Yves suddenly shoves it all the way in and it disappears from sight.

“No, I had my dinner earlier before coming over.” You mutter distractedly as you keep your eyes on Yves picking up another fry. This one goes into the mayo dip and Yves makes sure it is slathered in a generous amount before sticking it into her mouth. Naturally, a fair amount of the white sauce ends up on and around her lips. You remember the video call you had with Yves where she deepthroated a dildo. She ended that one by having yogurt dribble out of her lips, down her chin and onto her naked body.

Eye glinting naughtily, Yves leans forward in her seat toward you. “I don’t have a mirror on me, think you could maybe help me clean up?”

You take the hint and your hand rises to Yves’ lips, slowly tracing them with your thumb as you wipe the white mayo off her lips. And when you’re done, Yves takes your thumb into her mouth, sucking on it.

And as Yves sucks on your thumb, you feel the friction of her foot suddenly press against the inner side of your ankle. You sneak a quick look below the table and see that Yves has slipped the sneaker off one foot, her long leg outstretched and her foot gently rubbing against you. The foot brushes up against you as it slowly travels upward. She pauses every now and again to rub up and down on the spot against your leg before travelling ever upward.

Yves keeps eye contact with you throughout, even as she suddenly takes your thumb into her mouth all the way to the knuckle and as her foot rubs up against your inner thigh now. You involuntarily release a sigh of pleasure when her foot finally rubs up against the bulge starting to form in your pants.

Your outburst helps you suddenly remember that there are other people around and that you’re in public. Quickly looking around, you see that the other couple can’t see what you’re doing from their seat, but the server at the counter certainly can. In fact, you think he kind of looks away the moment you look around. You’re not entirely sure if he saw, but it sure seems like it.

“Maybe we should do this later elsewhere? Somewhere a little more private?”

Yves pulls away from your thumb to answer. “This is exactly the reason why we’re here. We’re not going anywhere together after this.” Her tongue flicks out and caresses the tip of your index finger. “I’ve brought my roommate here quite a few times. Had her sit next to me, my hand in her panties. I got her squirming and panting.”

Your imagination naturally tries to envision Yves sitting next to another girl, fingering her while the girl tries to stay quiet. Yves pushes her foot a little more strongly into your bulge, cutting into your thoughts. “Don’t you want to be squirming and panting with me?” Her voice takes on a lower, suggestive tone.

You try to keep your cool despite Yves’ every attempt to turn up the heat. “I think I saw the server watching us.”

Yves has a coy smile on her face. “Him? He’s watched me make my roommate cum in her pants a few times. This is nothing.” Yves continues to rub her foot, covered in that long sock, against your crotch throughout the conversation. “I’ve done this enough times with people I bring here. He knows what to expect. When I’m here, he always keeps one eye on me. I bet he goes back home and jerks off to me.”

Yves is being extremely open about her sexuality with you, and it’s both exceedingly exciting to listen to and also leaving you finding it hard to find words to speak with, since you’ve never met someone so openly sexual. “I bet he does. I would too, in his shoes.”

You feel Yves manage to get a grip on your pants zipper with her toes and start to pull down. “I did give him a birthday blowjob one night after work, when he was working here on his birthday. I felt a little bad for him, always watching, never able to touch. And so, I gave him a little present.” Yves chuckles. “Besides, it didn’t take very long.”

You aren’t sure if the server is listening in or if he even can from his position, but you swear you can feel him watching you from the corner of his eye. Well, not watching you, watching Yves. And you’re sure Yves can feel it as well as she picks up a glass of milk from the table; you’re sure that milk is a deliberate choice too. Yves throws her head back and shows off her neck before she takes a drink of way too much milk at one go, causing some to spill from her chin. Her lips stained with white, and droplets of white liquid dripping off her chin and running down her neck, Yves is a vision of not-very-subtle erotic beauty.

Yves leans forward a little. “Oops, looks like I made a mess again. Clean me?”

Your hand starts to reach for her face but Yves gently grabs your hand and caresses it softly with her slender fingers. “Don’t waste the milk, use your mouth.” You follow her instructions and lean forward as well. Your lips meet hers and your tongue hungrily slips into her mouth. You can taste the milk on her tongue as she meets your tongue with her own. Yves moans softly into the kiss as you both devour each other’s mouths with increasing passion and lust.

As the two of you kiss over the table, and the server probably watches, you feel Yves’ foot now rubbing against the straining fabric of your underwear. You’re not sure how long the two of you kiss for, nor how long her foot presses against your trapped cock, but eventually Yves pulls both her lips and foot away.

Yves flashes you a devilish grin, licking her lips. “Let’s give him a show.” Yves crawls and gets on her knees under the table before you can react. As you look to see if anyone is watching, you feel her fingers pull on your underwear and pants, just enough so that your throbbing cock can finally be free of its cloth prison. You scoot back in your seat to give Yves better access to you and your cock.

You have just enough wits about you to realise that the other couple must have left the restaurant sometime while you were kissing, as their table is empty. The server is staring unnaturally and stiffly straight ahead, so you’re fairly sure he’s watching out of the corner of his eye, or maybe via a reflection.

Meanwhile, Yves has her warm fingers wrapped around your length as her wet tongue laps at your tip. “I love the scent of your cock.” Yves whispers, and you can feel her hot breath on the sensitive head of your erection. At this point you don’t care if anyone’s watching as you stare transfixed into Yves’ electrifying eyes as she takes your cock into her mouth. The server must have turned the music off, the only thing you can hear is Yves giving you the blowjob of your life.

“Mmph…glug…”

Yves deepthroats you in one swift, sudden motion, taking the entire length of your erect cock into her warm, wet mouth and throat, her face buried in your crotch. She stays there for a while, letting her tight throat swallow around you, using the contractions to pleasure you. And then slowly Yves begins to bob up and down on your cock, her tongue flicking around inside, caressing the underside of your dick, or playing along the slit of your penis.

As you stare down at Yves, who hasn’t broken eye contact with you, you break that contact for a moment as you realise that one of her hands is massaging her breasts through her top and the other is under her skirt, presumably inside her pussy. She moans rather loudly, causing pleasurable vibrations to flow into your cock. She really seems to be loving this show she’s putting on, uncaring of her volume.

It doesn’t take awfully long before you feel the familiar build-up rising through your shaft as Yves continues to lick, suck and deepthroat you.

“Fuck…Yves, I’m going to cum!” You pant out as Yves increases the pace of her bobbing, eyes gazing lustfully into yours. Soon after, your climax hits and it is probably the most intense orgasm you have ever had.

Your hands instinctively grab hold of the top of Yves’ head and hold it down even as your hips twitch and rise off the seat to fuck her throat. Yves does not gag and does not push back against you, her throat muscles continuing to massage you as you finish inside her. Lewd sloppy noises fill the air.

“Gulg…gugh…”

You thrust upward several times while her nose is forcefully pressed down against your groin, a couple seconds between each thrust, and with every thrust you shoot a thick load of sperm that coats her throat and mouth.

After your last thrust and eruption, you sink back into your seat, worn out and very much satisfied. Yves isn’t satisfied yet however, as she continues to lick and suck your deflating cock clean as you slowly stroke her hair and brush it into place, having roughed it up earlier. When she finally pulls her head off your very slick but otherwise clean cock, you see that saliva has dribbled down her chin and a string of it still connects her lips to the head of your dick.

“That was the best cum I’ve tasted.” Yves whispers as she licks her lips. “Better than his, definitely.” She doesn’t move her head or point at him, but her eyes move in his direction and you know she’s talking about the server. Yves crawls back to her seat opposite you and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

“You take a rest first, but there’s a second round later. I still want you to fuck me.” You’re not going to argue against that idea.

Leaning back in her seat, Yves lifts up her short skirt to reveal that she’s not wearing any underwear and she’s also very wet and slick below. She drops it back down after a few seconds. Your cock may be spent, but it responds to the erotic sight with a twitch and hardens slightly.

“I’m going to go and convince him to close early, since they have no customers anyway. This place normally closes at ten.” Yves puts her sneaker back on, gets up from her seat and walks over to the counter to talk to the server. You take a swig of the glass of milk that Yves had to help cool down then quickly check the time, and it’s already twenty minutes to ten. You’ve spent about half an hour with Yves already, but it seemed to go by so quickly. Time flies when you’re getting seduced and sucked off, apparently.

You look over at the counter and see that Yves is smiling suggestively at the server and looking down under the counter. You assume he has a noticeable hardon down there.

“Closing 15 minutes early is nothing…and I’ll make sure you get something out of it too…”

The server is already turning most of the lights off along with the cameras in the store. Yves turns and winks at you. He steps out from behind the counter, and you quickly notice he definitely got hard watching and listening to what Yves was doing to you, and walks over to the door to change the sign at the door from ‘Open’ to ‘Closed’ and then lock it. What he doesn’t realise, but you do as you look on, is that Yves is following quietly behind him to the door.

The moment the door is locked and he turns, Yves presses her body up against his and she pins him against the glass door, her hand grabbing and massaging the bulge in his pants.

You stand up and shift to a closer seat to get a better view; you know this display is meant to help get you hard again, along with getting the store closed early.

“Did you like watching noona? Noona got so wet knowing that you were watching me…” Yves speaks soft and low, her voice drips with want. You can hear her because it’s very quiet now. The young server nods and swallows nervously.

Yves’ deft fingers have his pants unzipped and his cock standing erect in no time. He tries to resist for a brief moment, knowing that anyone passing by can see him through the door despite it being darker with most of the lights off. But Yves swiftly robs him of any resistance as one hand pushes down on his chest against the door and the other lifts up her skirt to give him a good view as she steps forward and rubs her pussy lips along his length.

“Do you like that? Noona didn’t lie, feel how wet I am…” Yves gently presses her folds down on the server’s throbbing cockhead, letting him slip just a little inside her and drawing a low groan from him. She pulls her pussy away and removes the hand on his chest before wrapping it around his cock. Yves starts to slowly stroke him, lubricated by her own pussy juices.

“Touch me, feel me…” You watch as Yves briefly stops her handjob to bring one of his hands to her chest before resuming. He eagerly uses both hands to squeeze and massage her chest, drawing low groans from her.

“Cum for noona, noona wants to see you make a mess on her.” Yves urges as she buries her face in his neck, nibbling, licking, and kissing him there. Yves increases the speed at which she is jerking him off as she now maintains eye contact with him, licking and biting her lips as she keeps muttering sweet nothings and moaning softly to urge him on to his orgasm. Her thumb rubs across his sensitive tip, drawing out moans as she pumps away and brings him closer to cumming.

“Noona, I’m going to-!” The server groans loudly as his hands clench hard around Yves’ breasts. Yves tugs hard and fast as spurts of white erupt and land on her thighs and on the upper areas of her long black socks. Her hands get a lot of it too. She continues to pump him, getting everything out as he pants and leans back into the door.

“Good boy, look, you made a mess of noona’s socks…looks like I’ll be wearing your cum home tonight.” Yves gives him a quick peck on the lips before she turns back to you. Watching all this, you’re hard and ready for another go.

“I’ll clean up first, give me a minute.” Yves raises a cum-covered hand and walks off to the restroom. As you settle into your seat, the server gets his clothes back in order before disappearing into the back of the restaurant.

Yves is back in a jiffy, having cleaned up her hands, thighs and somewhat of her socks. There’s still a little bit of white, but she either couldn’t get it out or quite possibly, chose to leave it there on purpose.

“I don’t wanna waste time, let’s get to it, I’ve been wet for so long without any attention.”

Yves pulls out a condom and tears open the packaging. “Don’t worry, it’s very thin. Also, some guys I fuck find it strange I make them wear a condom. Then I remind them that I’m a doctor and they’re strangers I don’t know well. Safe sex is a given!” She almost sounds indignant, like they were doubting her professionalism.

“Go ahead, no complaints from me.”

“Oh, I’m sure you won’t have any…” Yves places the condom at your tip and then uses her mouth to pull the condom down over your cock, her tongue nimbly assisting her lips and teeth in pushing and pulling it down to the base of your cock, inadvertently deepthroating you at the same time.

It feels wonderful regardless of the condom, but her deepthroating without the condom would have the edge you think to yourself. Yves sucks on you for a short while before getting up and sinking down upon your length as you sit down.

Yves takes you all the way to the hilt, wrapping her arms and legs around you, hugging and French kissing you passionately. You both moan and groan into the kiss as you thrust upward and she moves her hips downwards, bouncing on your cock. The experience is everything you imagined it to be when you were masturbating to her while watching her video calls or listening to her recording, tight, hot, and wet. The two of you are more or less fully clothed while Yves even has a jacket on, and thus you are both also sweaty messes at this point.

But then suddenly, Yves stops. “Let’s change it up.” She pants softly as she gets up and turns her back to you before slowly sinking down on your cock, lubed up by her juices, again. Only this time, your cock presses against her asshole and very slowly sinks in as Yves adjusts to your size. You let her take control, not wanting to hurt her with sudden movements, and the overwhelming tightness of her ass has you groaning out loud.

“God, Yves, you’re so tight!”

Your hands go around to the front and slip under her tee, which is when you realise that not only is Yves not wearing any panties, she’s not wearing any underwear altogether. Your hands go and play with her nipples, tweaking and teasing, and you cup and squeeze her breasts as well. They’re not incredibly large but are soft and firm as well as fit very well in your hands. Yves whines as you do all this while she slowly fucks herself upon your dick while holding onto the table in front of her for support.

After a short while, most of your cock is inside Yves and soon she is bouncing along on your cock at a regular pace and you start thrusting up into her as well. You have one hand go down to her clit and start to rub it as well, starting a two-pronged assault to bring Yves to climax. Wetness from her pussy coats your fingers and seeps down to your cock as you pound into her.

Yves is just crying out in pleasure now, as your cock slams into the nerves in her ass and your fingers pleasure her clit and her nipples and you can also feel another orgasm building up in you from how tight she is.

A few more thrusts later, Yves slams her hips down one last time and her body clenches and stiffens as the orgasm rocks her senses and body. That includes her anal muscles now squeezing your cock for cum, which in turn brings you over the edge. A rush of hot liquid flows over your fingers even as you fire into the condom inside her.

The two of you stay like that for a short while before Yves slowly clambers off you. The tightness of her ass means that the condom is nearly pulled off your cock as well, but it just barely manages to stay on. Yves collapses into the seat next to you and her hands pull your face in to share a long and deep kiss with lots of tongue. You taste each other’s mouths for a long while. You don’t think you could ever get bored of it.

Yves eventually stops kissing and gets on her knees in front of you again and pulls the condom off you, pouring the contents onto her outstretched tongue, swallowing all of that and then sticking her tongue into the condom to get a bit more. And only after that, does she clean up your spent cock with her mouth.

“Fuck, you’re amazing, Yves.” You manage to get out as you wait your breath to return. Yves nods and winks naughtily.

“I did say you wouldn’t be disappointed.” She licks your cock again. “Not much better than fresh cum and a sweaty cock. I made a damned good choice at the sperm bank.”

“So did I.” You laugh as you put your cock back into your underwear and get your pants zipped up.

As Yves gets to her feet, she pulls her phone out of a jacket pocket and waves it at you. “Video call later? I want to shower and wash all this sweat off with you.”

You chuckle and nod. You absolutely cannot wait.

“Don’t bathe until I call.” Yves gives you a peck on the cheek as the two of you prepare to leave.

You hear the sound of the cash register being opened and realise that the server is there, changed out of his uniform. “I have to count the day’s takings, don’t mind me.”

Yves and you both crack up, wondering how much of your sex session he saw. When you get out on the street, you share a quick selfie together outside the store for memory’s sake and then you part ways.

At least, until you see each other in the shower via video call again later.

#Loona smut #Yves smut #Ha Sooyoung smut #reader insert #male reader

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ghosttotheparty · 4 years ago

Text

while the world ends around us (make believe with me)

3. I’m to making shift for shaping a life AO3

It’s like it’s the same day all over again when he wakes up. The same gentle whir of his fan, the same blankets covering his body, the same cracks in the ceiling above his bed that look like shitty, knockoff constellations. The same cup next to his bed, half-empty, as always, the same guitar, in the same position, in the same spot in its stand against next to his bed. The same four walls, staring down at him as if in judgement.

What’s different today is the quiet patter of rain, tapping against his window, asking to be invited in.

It’s a welcome noise.

Peaceful.

He almost wants to open the window, let the rain in, let it wash over him, let it wet his hair and get caught in his eyelashes, let it run down his face like tears. But he doesn’t. He sits up, looking across the small room, and watches drops race down the glass. It’s a little bit dark out, the sun blocked by clouds, and he expects to see bright reflections of light in the drops, but he doesn’t. He almost wants to close his eyes, lay his head against the wall behind him, and just listen to the rain, but he doesn’t get the chance.

There’s a knock at his door, and he calls out a gentle “Come in,” as he tugs at the blanket, moving it on the bed so the end of it is pulled up in front of him.

The door opens and Lotte walks in, wearing pink pyjamas, cradling a stuffed bear to her chest, and the door swings shut behind her, thudding loudly, but she doesn’t react to it. She just looks at Jens, holding her bear, the bottom of her oversized pyjama pants pooled around her feet, the ends of her sleeves bunched around her hands. She looks smaller than she usually does. Her eyes are soft, gazing at him across the room, until he cocks his head, beckoning.

As she climbs onto the bed, he pulls the blanket off his lap, shifting and lifting his back from the wall enough to swing the blanket around his shoulders, gripping in his fists and wrapping it around himself as Lotte crawls into his lap, her back against his chest. He wraps his arms around her, resting his head on her shoulder and she lays her head on his, sighing.

Jens moves down on the wall slightly, tightening his arms around her, and she turns so she’s sitting sideways in his lap, laying against his chest. Her arms are wrapped around the bear, her chin nestled on the top of its fuzzy head, and Jens runs one of his hands through her hair, gently combing through tangles and knots.

“I miss Daddy,” she says softly after a few quiet minutes.

Jens sighs, removing his hand from her hair, and leans down, kissing the top of her head gently. He sees that her eyes are closed, and a part of him hopes she’ll fall asleep like this.

“Me too.”

“Why can’t we go see him?” Her voice is small, like she’s hoping she’ll get a different answer than she got last time.

“People are getting sick, Lotte.” He runs a hand over her hair and lays his head against the wall, his eyes on the window. “We have to stay home so fewer people get sick.”

“I haven’t gotten sick.”

“I know. But some people get sick easier than other people. We just have to try to keep them safe.”

He watches the rain race down the window, listens to it against the glass and the roof, and he listens to Lotte breathing, her soft, quiet breaths that form a rhythm that he follows without thinking about it.

“When will we see him again?”

Jens doesn’t know how to answer. He has no idea how long this will last, this lockdown, this confinement. Their father is only a few blocks away, is only a few streets down from where they are right now, probably sitting at his dining table with his laptop in front of him, working. Maybe he’s wondering the same thing.

“Eventually.”

She does fall asleep on him, still clutching her bear, but one of Jens��s hands ends up between the soft fuzz and her small hand, her fingers wrapped around one of his. He feels her grip loosen when she drifts off, but he doesn’t move.

---

He’s always known that the apartment is small.

The kitchen is tiny, a counter around a small room, old cabinets that shut too loudly, a leaky faucet that drips into a metal sink, a circular dinner table pushed into the corner of the room. (Lotte likes to crawl under it and sit in the corner.) The door opens directly into the thin hallway, and just a step down it is the living room, with a small sofa and coffee table, usually covered in scattered paper and markers, pillows strewn across the floor. (When Jens hangs out with Lotte, he usually sits or kneels on one next to her.) All three bedrooms are the same size.

Jens often feels like he’s trapped in a box lined with fairy lights. He has to squeeze between his bed and the closet in the wall to slide it open. He has to either slip between his bed and dresser or climb over his bed to make it to his window. He only has to take two steps to get from the door to bed. He’s always wanted a desk, but there’s never been enough space anywhere in the apartment to put one. (And barely enough spare money to get one.) Lotte’s room feels bigger, but only because her bed is smaller. She has space to play on the floor, and when Jens sits with her, his back against the wall, there’s just enough space to stretch his legs out in front of him.

This is where they sit while they draw together. Or rather, while Lotte draws and Jens makes a half attempt before giving up.

It’s also where Lotte falls asleep a few days later, as she draws and Jens scrolls on his phone. It’s early in the morning, and Jens suspects Lotte stayed up until their mom got home last night, smiling softly and shaking his head as her eyes flutter shut for a second before she opens them, blinking blearily and picking up the pencil that had slipped from her fingers.

“Tired?” he asks, and she shakes her head, contradicting herself by yawning.

“No,” she says lightly, and leans down to the floor, looking closer at her drawing. Jens looks at his phone, checking the time.

“Do you want to take a nap?” Jens asks after a second. He has a few minutes before he needs to log in to a class. It’s one of the only teachers that require him to join the video call. And his least favourite, because she also requires them to leave their cameras on.

Lotte pauses, looking up at him without lifting her head.

“Yes,” she says finally, and drops the pencil, turning on the floor and climbing up onto the bed. Jens picks up the sketchbook and pencils as she snuggles into her pillow, clutching a stuffed animal to her chest and looking up at him. Her curtains are already pulled shut, the soft sunlight shining through them and washing the small room in pink. He pulls up her blankets and tucks them under her chin, making her giggle.

“I have a class,” he says. “You know when to get me right?”

“Only if I’m hurt or if I’m scared.”

“Good girl,” he says, and bends down, brushing her hair out of her face and kissing her forehead lightly.

She already looks asleep by the time he shuts her door behind himself.

It’s even quieter without the sound of her pencil on paper.

Jens closes his bedroom door with a quiet click, and finds his laptop under his bedside table before tossing it lightly onto his bed and hopping up, bouncing as he lands criss-cross.

He also turns the camera off before he joins the class’ video chat but leaves it on at the last second, shooting a look at himself and ruffling his hair, huffing.

“And there’s Jens!” Ms Peeters says a second after he joins, and he drops his phone, looking up and smiling lightly. She’s one of his favourite teachers. She’s one of everyone’s teachers, honestly, always enthusiastic and considerate. She could be their grandma. “So nice to see your lovely smile, good morning. And Mila, hello!”

“Victor, did you cut your hair?” she asks as more people flood the meeting, looking delighted. There’s a pause as Victor turns on his microphone.

“Uh, yeah, my mom did it.” He doesn’t look happy, and Jens stifles a laugh, seeing how messy and short his hair is now, a contrast from the shoulder-length locks Jens is used to.

“Well you look very handsome,” Ms Peeters says in response and Victor smiles. “We’re waiting on one more student…” She tilts her head up and looks closely at the screen in front of her through her glasses. “But he might still be figuring it out, we can go on and start without him. Who wants to quickly go through what we did last class?”

It’s quiet and Jens pulls his notebook closer, looking at his messy notes.

“Uhm…” a girl’s voice says finally, her audio garbled, sounding like she’s standing down a long tunnel. “We were going over different forms of poems and we stopped when we finished talking about sonnets.”

“Yes, and?”

“And you asked us to find a sonnet online and summarise what it’s about and the rhyme scheme, and to write a haiku.”

“That’s right,” Ms Peeters says. “And if I remember correctly, almost all of you turned it in. If you didn’t, you know who you are, please get it in by this afternoon.” (Jens turned it in late last night. Almost everything he turns in now gets turned in late at night.) “So, if you looked at today’s lesson plan…”

As she speaks, Jens’s screen rearranges itself, squares of students jumping across the screen as another square appears. The student’s camera isn’t on, so all Jens sees is an L in a circle.

“...you would have seen that we’re— Oh! There he is!” Ms Peeters exclaims. “Lucas, if you wouldn’t mind turning your camera on?”

There’s a pause, and then Lucas appears.

He’s looking up past the camera, watching something behind his screen, before he looks back, smiling awkwardly and waving a hand. He has curls falling in his face, and Jens smiles without noticing.

“Lucas, introduce yourself!” Ms Peeters says.

He mouths Uhm… and then leans forward slightly, clicking the microphone.

“My name is Lucas…” he says, an awkward smile still on his face, and Jens scoffs in sympathy. “I’m seventeen.” He pauses, looking hesitant. “I’m an artist.”

It’s not obvious, Jens thinks, looking at the wall behind Lucas. It’s completely blank, except for the stripes shadows of blinds. Not what Jens would expect from an artist. But, he supposes, he doesn’t know what kind of art Lucas means.

“I moved here from Utrecht.”

“Well, we’re very happy to have you here, Lucas. How was the move? What with everything that’s going on right now?”

“Uh, it wasn’t great.”

Ms Peeters laughs sympathetically.

“No, but it wasn’t awful,” he continues, shifting in his seat. His laptop moves as he does and Jens wonders if he’s sitting on his bed like Jens is. “The train was mostly empty and the mask wasn’t too bad. It was mostly just… moving all my stuff in here that was the hassle.” He glances up again as he says this.

“Well, lucky for you, I don’t give that much homework,” Ms Peeters says. “Most everything I’ll be assigning can be done in maybe fifteen minutes or less if you focus. But I am assigning a project soon.” Jens sees the students groan and throw their heads back, and he laughs.

“Not today!” Ms Peeters says, making an offended expression. “Calm down. I’ll be assigning it later. And it’s not poetry, I’m sure you’ll all be happy about that.” Lucas is laughing, Jens notices when he looks away from Ms Peeters. His eyes squint under his smile, and when he pushes his curls out of his face, Jens can see the slightest hint of freckles scattered across his cheeks. Jens, unfortunately, has a hard time looking away from Lucas’s little square. Ms Peeters presents her screen in the meeting so the class can take notes, and Jens’s notes are, as Moyo would probably put it, half-assed. He ends up paying more attention to the way Lucas’s brow furrows as he writes and the way his eyes move across the screen as he reads.

He wonders if his voice sounds different in person.

#friendly reminder that i am in fact an american #i know nothing about belgian school systems or belgian poetry #but i do happen to be in ap literature so im using that as a basis for their class #so if felmish sonnets have different rules than english ones im sorry #i know nothing and im a shitty researcher #anyway drink water and eat something yummy #take your meds #and relax your shoulders #i love you #<3 #vds #van der stoffels #wtfock #skam nl #jens stoffels #lucas vdh #lucas van der heijden #while the world ends around us (make believe with me)

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talesmaniac89 · 4 years ago

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The Classifieds

Pairing: Past Dean x Reader

Summary: What lengths will Dean Winchester go to when he runs out of options to save the people he cares about? Is he willing to let go of a part of himself to save his family?

Triggers: Hurt, Coma, possible loss/death, open ending, no resolution, angst, No happy endings here guys. This is just angst for the sake of angst.

For sale: 1967 Chevrolet Impala

Lovingly restored black ‘67 Impala needs a new home. This 327 four-barrel beauty comes with a newly installed 502 Big Block 550 Horsepower Engine to give you that extra bit of push. Though it has a mileage of over 600,000 miles travelled, this beauty runs like new after several full fixups, constant servicing and a lot of TLC. Registration is up to date as of January this year.

With its souped-up engine, new paint job and fresh set of tires, this baby looks like it just rolled off of the assembly line. Both the exterior and interior of the car have received a near perfect restoration with a few small exceptions; there’s a green army man toy stuck in the ashtray, a few Lego pieces are rattling in the vent when you turn on the heat, and there’s a small carving in the rear window sill. These are all minor interior flaws that can easily be fixed by the buyer.

I’ll share details like the VIN, classic car ID and answer any other questions directly to any prospective buyers.

She’s been with us since ‘73, and never let us down. Baby’s part of our family, and we’re sad to let her go, but I’m hoping the new owner will love her as much as I have.

Price: Best offer

---

Taking a shaky breath, Dean held back the tears that burned in his eyes, blurring his vision as he read through the classified ad one last time before motioning to hit send. His finger shook over the enter key as he squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed the lump in his throat. He didn’t want to do this, but he had no choice.

Baby meant a lot to him, of course she did. But she was only a car, and if he didn’t let her go, then he could end up losing so much more. Selling the Impala was his only choice.

He needed money. A lot of money. For (Y/N) and Sammy. Their last hunt in Chicago had landed them both in separate hospital beds after prolonged contact with a djinn, and they weren’t waking up. Even after Dean killed the fucking monster that had them trapped, they both remained unresponsive, and they were fading fast. Only kept alive by modern science and a team of hardworking doctors and nurses.

Still, Dean was in the business of saving people. And if ganking another monster of the week wasn’t gonna cut it, then he’d do whatever else he needed to do to fix this. He wouldn’t let his little brother, or the woman he loved more than life itself, die in that hospital. He couldn’t lose them, either of them.

But, their stay and continued treatment required money. More money than he had. More money than he could ever hope to get from his measly collection of fake credit cards, poker games and hustling some poor fool at the local dive bar.

Which was why he was balancing Sammy’s computer on his lap as he sat, defeated, on one of the uncomfortably hard waiting room chairs. One finger hovering over the enter button as he tried to breathe through the growing lump in his throat and the helpless panic lodged in his chest. Either way, he’d lose something. But this way he’d save his family; the only goddamn good thing left in his life.

Swallowing down the bitter defeat, he let his finger press into the enter key with a little more force than necessary. Sending his ad in to the classifieds with nothing more than a dry, low sob goodbye.

Dean would scrounge up every damned cent needed to keep his family alive. Even if it meant selling the only home the Winchester brothers had ever really had.

Because the Impala was their only real home, more so than the bunker could ever hope to be. Yet, what was a home without people to live in it? If he lost his family, then the bunker, the Impala, or any other place he tried to run away to would just be a coffin. Somewhere to lie broken, bruised and defeated as he waited for the world to catch up and realise his heart stopped beating the day that fucking djinn landed Sam and (Y/N) in that hospital bed.

“Goodbye Baby… I’m sorry,”

---

“…Winchester?”

Someone was calling his name, but Dean was too far gone to listen. His red rimmed eyes stayed laser focused on the online listing. Dry and burning after minutes spent staring unblinkingly at the picture of his Baby that topped the ad. The picture was just one of many, the first he could find without Sam or her in it, but it still meant so much to him.

In it he could see every single moment he’d spent behind the wheel of that car.

He could see nights spent by (Y/N)’s side, stargazing on Baby’s hood. His hand painting patterns on her bare arm as they just… Existed together, not talking or hunting, just living. Her head resting on his shoulder as he whispered promises of forever into her (Y/H/C) hair.

He relived every time she’d helped him fix his Baby back up, handing him his tools with that tempting sheen of moisture trapped against her neck and collarbone from the heat of the Kansas sun. Endless drives, with Sam calling shotgun; using his longer legs to his advantage and leaving the fiercest huntress Dean knew in the dust while she grumbled about deserving a front seat view for once.

He could feel the steady and safe vibration of the steering wheel under his fingers and heard her singing along to his mixtapes. Her head leaned back and (Y/H/C) hair moving slightly in the small breeze from the open window. (Y/E/C) eyes hidden behind closed eyelids and a small lazy smile, just barely visible through the rear-view mirror.

That one picture, topping the classifieds ad, held it all; every moment on the road so far. And there’d been many. More than he could ever hope to count.

From the desperate rushed rescue missions and races against the clock, to the lazier road trips after a fight well fought. The easy drives would always be his favourite moments. Just sunshine, warming the air around him as he drove his family back to the bunker. Safe in the knowledge that he’d kept them all out of harm’s way once more.

He’d spent so many long days on the road, he could picture it all perfectly. Even in the pixelated picture of an empty car. (Y/N) would be lounging in the backseat, humming along to his music. Stretched across the leather seats as Sam tried to talk both Dean and her into agreeing to change the classic rock music blaring through the speakers with a podcast or audio book. Giving his all to another convincing argument, fit for the former Stanford student, and still failing miserably every time.

“Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole,”

Dean flinched slightly at the sound of his own voice. He hadn’t meant to say the words out loud. Even the cracked, whispered version that left him. Yet, as soon as the words were out, he could nearly hear the echo of Sammy’s quipped “Jerk” in response to the golden rule. Barely catching the ghost of it with a trembling, empty smile before it was crushed under the louder sound of cold professionalism above him.

“Mr. Winchester?” The doctor repeated, sounding slightly annoyed at his lack of response and waving the papers in front of her as she waited for him to take them from her. The admission forms.

There were two of them. One for each of the two people he loved more than life itself. Lying in separate hospital rooms, only kept alive by machines and wires. Alive, but not really living, for as long as he had money to keep funding those fragile lifelines.

“Please fill in the fields for their insurance and the payment plan section. If there’s any issues…” The doctor said, voice free of judgement or blame as he lifted tear stained eyes to catch hers.

“No… You’ll have your money. Just… Save ‘em doc. They’re all I have,”

Dean didn’t have time to sit around feeling sorry for himself. He needed to get the money. He’d do anything to save his family. Hell, he’d have already sold his soul three times over if he had anything left to actually bargain with. And his baby, the Impala that had been their home, would never be the same again without Sam’s constant attempts to change his music or (Y/N) signing along from the backseat or making his baby brother roll his eyes at her bad jokes.

Though he’d yet to get an offer on the ad. And he needed money fast.

Cas had tried, but his weakened grace couldn’t help them, and there were no other last-minute interventions there to save the day. After all, saving the day was what the Winchesters did, and Dean was two soldiers short of a full team.

No, he couldn’t sit around hoping someone would come rescue them and he couldn’t shoot or punch his way through this problem. All he could do was cling to his phone and hope someone offered to buy a piece of him. One he thought he’d never part with. Hell, at some point he’d even dreamed about handing the keys over to his own child one day, one with green eyes and (Y/H/C) hair, to let the Impala live on when he retired somewhere calm and quiet with (Y/N).

A dream he now realised was foolish to even hope for.

Keeping his eyes on the picture of his Baby on the laptop screen, Dean’s hand tightened around the papers. His voice shook as he prayed out loud, just as much to the classic car on the screen as to the doctor in front of him.

“Please save my family,”

Tags:

Dean Winchester Tags: @ria132love @woodworthti666 @defenderrosetyler @akshi8278 @justanotherwinchester @lyarr24 @torn-and-frayed @all-will-be-well-love @wearesuchstuff1 @thefridgeismybestie @adoptdontshoppets @starsandmidnightblue @punof-agun

Forever Tags: @deanwanddamons @winchest09 @hobby27 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sea040561 @donnaintx @alwaysdreamingforthebest @thatmotleygirl @chocolateheart @superfanficnatural @flamencodiva @starryeyeseunbyul @waywardbeanie @supernaturalenchanted @ellewritesfix05 @emoryhemsworth

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 3 years ago

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The Dragon Egg (Part 2)

Part 2 for @secrettunnelatla

“No, this isn’t good enough!” Azula grits her teeth. It is decent work--as far as sound goes--but it isn’t battle of the bands worthy. Not even close. If they wanted to make it to Audio of Agni their concept would have to be much stronger, much less generic than a silly gimmick. “What kind of lyrics are these? Who came up with this concept?”

Chan, Zirin, and Ruon all point at one another before ultimately jabbing their fingers at Zirin who points to Azula herself.

Azula pinches the bridge of her nose. “Necrophilia, Zirin? That’s what you came up with?”

“You said that you wanted ‘attention grabbing’.” Zirin shrugs.

Azula rubs her hands over her face. “Our talents need to be attention grabbing.” Hers certainly are and she needs lyrics and a concept that will do them good service. “We need something that will highlight and showcase what we can do.” An absurd gimmick will only draw attention away from the aspects that matter the most.

“You got any better ideas?” Zirin grumbles.

Ruon quirks a brow and smirks, “we can try…”

“Don’t say it.” Azula frowns.

“Surf rock.” Chan finishes for him.

“We need something bigger.” Azula declares. “Something that hasn’t been done before.” She wishes that she would have saved their dragon metal concept for a later date. Then again, dragon metal is what had given them the propulsion they needed to break out from under her father’s shadow. The propulsion they needed to get their start.

But now she is at a loss for how to top that. She can’t imagine that there are many things that can top emerging on stage with a full suit of glimmering metal scales and glowing talons. She isn’t sure what can draw attention better than staring down an audience with reptilian contact lenses.

“I heard that steampunk is in.” Chan shrugs.

“Steampunk is overdone.”

“Zombies?” Zirin suggests.

Azula shakes her head. “The Blind Bandits already did that.”

“We can hold a seance on stage.” She tries again.

“Why are you so keen on utilizing dead things?” Azula pinches the bridge of her nose. Though a seance isn’t a particularly terrible idea if, perhaps, they incorporated other elements, such as handing out tickets in the form of tarot cards. “I suppose we might be able to work with that.”

But an evening of phantoms and psychic energy is a rather far leap from dragon metal and she isn’t sure that their style of music would line up neatly with the aesthetics of a supernatural night…

She spares a glance to the clock. “Keep coming up with ideas, we need to practice.”

“We’ve played these songs hundreds of times, shouldn’t we be coming up with some new songs?” Chan asks. “From Ashes To Phoenix, just announced their second new single.”

Azula’s face reddens if only slightly. “Zuzu can release as many new singles as he wants, that won’t make them sound any better than someone chewing on a microphone with feedback for three minutes.”

Chan stifles a laugh.

She should have known then that the rest of practice was going to be a waste. She has known Chan since they were children and she knows how he can be. She isn’t particularly surprised when he makes practice hell, purposely floundering his way through certain guitar riffs and singing off key when he saw most optimal. His screw ups always through Ruon off and eventually Zirin would practically flop over her drum kit with laughter.

As per usual, Azula is the only one not laughing.

As per usual, Azula is the only one with anything real at stake.

She is reminded quite potently of it when her father calls. Chan has thrown Ruon off for the sixth time that night, they already have to take it from the top so Azula steps out into the hallway and swipes to answer.

He starts in on her before she can even put the phone to her ear. “How is it that your brother has already put out two new singles and you haven’t even come up with one?”

“Because I’m trying to come up with something that has some quality.” She has chosen her words carefully but neglected to watch her tone.

She thinks that it would be more befitting of him to simply yell violently at her. But his voice is so slick and smooth that she can’t even hide behind incoherence. “I’m not funding your band for you to disgrace the legacy. I handed you a blazing torch and you are letting the fire die.”

“I’m trying to…” she pauses. “Pick out the best kindling. Something that will burn for a long time. Zuko is just tossing random sticks into the pit and hoping something will catch.”

This seems to satisfy him, though it doesn’t keep him from ending the call with a curt, “there’s a fine line between perfecting a song and stalling.” He doesn’t even know that she hasn’t started working on a song yet.

He doesn’t need to know.

She rubs her hands over her face. The man was pissed when Zuko’s first album flopped and he’d had low expectations to begin with. She vividly recalls childhood music lessons; they’d come so naturally to her. She could pick up a violin or stroke the keys of a piano and it would come out just right after the first few tries.

Her voice, they said, was golden. A gift. A marvel. She had impressive range. She has impressive range.

And Zuko, even with extra lessons and several teachers struggled to make use of even a recorder. His vocals were ‘generic’, ‘nothing special’ and sometimes he would sing off tune. Ozai wasn’t fond of his improv either when lyrics slipped his mind.

He still forgets lyrics.

His own lyrics.

Azula isn’t sure how he hasn’t yet been booed off of a stage. She supposes there are perks in having magazine writers fawning over abs and ‘chiseled faces’.

But she wants more than that. She wants real talent. She wants a voice so sublime and lyrics so powerful that they draw focus away from any other aspect of her. She loathes and dreads the day when they push out cover that fancies her physique over her genius.

She won’t rely on that.

Unlike Zuko, she doesn’t need to.

She has a voice and she can do things with it that so many others can’t. She glares at Chan and Ruon as they cackle to themselves. She joins them once more, whatever aura she emits, their laughter cuts off. “Are you finished?”

They nod and Zirin nods.

“Good.” She says in a low hiss. “Start over. This time lets focus. We’re going to have a new song by the end of the night.”

It will be a lackluster song, but it will pacify her father, at least until she can come up with something better.

By the end of the session the only thing that she has acquired for her troubles is a headache and a sudden resentment of Zirin. Chan at least knows when to bring a terrible and tired joke to an end. Zirin is a collection of relentless crass comments.

Even if she doesn’t mean any harm by them, she doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up. Sometimes Azula thinks that Zirin is holding the rest of them back. Sometimes she regrets seeing the potential in her. Sometimes she regrets having vouched for her during music lessons until the teachers saw the same thing that she did.

Sometimes she thinks that she only lets Zirin stay because she is Chan’s girlfriend.

Sometimes she lets it go and carries on with practice as though the comments are only mild annoyances. And most of the time they are.

Tonight she has had her fill of aggravation.

Tonight she has had her fill of letting the woman pound on the drums every time she attempted to speak. She locks her microphone in its stand and without another word or a glance back, she leaves the recording studio.

As the door slams she could hear Zirin remark, “daddy’s little diva.”

She doesn’t know how long they wait for her to come back. But she doesn’t. Not that night. Were it not for her father’s expectations she would be well on her way to finding new bandmates. She can’t afford that yet; she is too pressed for time.

Too awkward and isolated to find anyone else anyhow.

She uses her walk home to come up with excuses as to why practice has been cut so short.

.oOo.

Seicho doesn’t expect a call so soon. Spirits, it would be embarrassing if her work had given Azula an allergic reaction. With the woman’s number flashing across her cellphone screen, she pictures rock ‘n roll legend, Fire Lord Ozai showing up at the shop all muscle and fury to tell her off for ruining his daughter’s flawless skin.

Seicho shudders and grins all at once. She isn’t sure if she would particularly mind getting yelled at by her idol, it would be like one of his concerts, but without the music. She picks up the call before it can go to voicemail.

“If it’s a rash, you should probably call the doctor! I’m sorry for…”

“What are you talking about?” She can see Azula’s half-frown through the phone.

Seicho clears her throat. “Nevermind, I thought that you were someone else.” She lies. “Is everything going okay with your tattoo?”

“So far, yes.”

“Are you cleaning it at least twice daily.”

“I clean it once in the morning, once at noon, and once at night. I’m not calling to talk about my tattoo.”

“What are you calling for then?”

Azula is silent for quite a while.

“I suppose I just want someone to talk to.”

Seicho very nearly asks her why she doesn’t just phone a friend, why she has decided to talk to her of all people. Instead she inquires, “what do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know.” There is a long pause. “Nevermind.” The phone clicks.

.oOo.

She feels foolish hanging up just to call again. But her father is still up and about, she sees his silhouette behind the curtain and she hasn’t come up with an excuse that he’d accept. She could tell him that Chan had to leave early but then he’d ask why she hadn’t continued without him. She could say that the other two refused but then he’d question her lack of control and ask why she didn’t practice alone.

She should just enter and get it over with, it is better if she does. It is the difference between a scolding and a slap.

But today she can’t take any more berating. She hits redial and holds the phone up to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Can we meet somewhere?” She doesn’t bother backtracking to return the greeting.

Seicho draws out her pause for so long that Azula nearly hangs up a second time. “Does the skate park sound good? I’m already there.”

It isn’t her scene. “I’ll be there.” She hangs up before the girl can change her mind.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Azula/Background Character #Zuko #Mai #Maiko #Fanfiction

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theshadowedqueen82 · 4 years ago

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what you’ve kept hidden (i’ve always known), 7.2k words, Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Jim Lake Jr.

My Jimari Secret Santa gift to Aly (let me know if I should tag you!) combining the prompts for a confession with angst and a cute first date. Also on Ao3.

The video is blurry, filmed from a cellphone camera just behind a nearby building, but it's the best they have. There aren't any news crews in the area, but Toby is diligently looking for any other coverage on his phone. Jim doesn't think he could be watching this without him.

The camera is shaking as it shows the back of a man in a purple suit, holding up a girl with one hand and reaching for her earrings. Ash falls from the sky around them, and there are sirens in the distance.

It can’t end like this, is all that Jim can think. Ladybug's too strong, too skilled, too smart to be caught like this. She must have some sort of plan, some kind of power that can fix this. He’s seen her do it before.

Reports of magical heroes in Paris had slowly made their way to Arcadia a year ago. While most people had thought it fraudulent or some kind of publicity stunt, Jim was far less likely to dismiss claims of magic these days. He’s followed her rising career through a few blogs and home videos, watched a couple of newscasts, and found some comfort in the idea that he's not the only hero out there. He almost envied Ladybug for being able to go public with her identity, being able to see and communicate with the public she was protecting. At the moment all he feels for her is cold dread.

Hawkmoth makes a quick movement, and there's a shimmer of pink light. Jim wants to look away, grant her the privacy he knows is being violated, but can't seem to make his eyes move. As the costume falls away revealing a very familiar looking face, his jaw drops.

“Marinette?”

—

Jim doesn't quite remember when it started. Somewhere on the forums for one of the many games they both played, teaming up to defeat virtual monsters and chatting only through text. Over the years they’d grown closer, started voice chatting and then video chatting, beginning to share a little more of their lives and themselves. Their relationship had lasted far past the usual expiration date of online friendships and they were still going strong. She was the only reason he still spoke French, and he helped her with her English homework. They had fallen into an easy pattern of late night gaming marathons in middle school and homework sessions in high school, calling each other to chat during the time zone window where neither of them were sleeping to chat and swap baking tips and laugh over bad jokes.

She was the first person he’d told about Claire, back when he had time for things like crushes. She’d encouraged him to ask her out, and Jim had countered asking when she was going to do the same for Adrien. He wanted to tell her about the amulet, but knew that there wasn’t a chance. Besides, what would she be able to do? She was an ocean away, and even if she was here it wasn’t like she could grab a sword and fight Bular for him. Or so he’d thought.

“Is it Steve again?” she’d asked one afternoon, when training had gone rather poorly and he’d signed into their video call exhausted and with the beginnings of a rather sizable bruise on his shoulder. She couldn’t see it, but she was perceptive enough to notice the wince every time he moved.

“It’s not him,” he promised. “I’m doing some… extra curriculars. After school credit stuff.”

“Oh?” Marinette asked, her eyebrows rising. “Like what? I thought you had to turn down culinary club.” It felt like almost a lifetime ago, when he’d been occupied with trying to keep his grades up and take care of the house, when the fee for participation had been enough to make him put off joining until he could find a summer job and pay for it himself.

“Yeah, I joined… wrestling,” he decided, racking his brain for what kind of extracurricular could involve physical injury. “Trying to get my phys ed mark up, I haven’t been doing so great.” Which was true, due to a lack of attendance rather than ability but Mari didn’t need to know that.

“Wrestling?” she echoed, confusion in her expression. Jim had wondered if she was going to press, felt a cold knot form in his stomach at the thought of lying more to her. But to his relief she’d only frowned and accepted it, saying that it sounded dangerous and she hoped he’d try to be safer before changing subjects.

Now his mind is running through those old conversations, wondering if he’d missed any of the same signs from her. Any sprained ankles or healing cuts, any sign of a burden they could have shared.

“Marinette is Ladybug? Your Marinette?” Toby is saying, but Jim can hardly hear him over the buzzing in his ears.

Hawkmoth has dropped her, and she's coughing. Jim realises that he’d been strangling her, that she’d have a necklace of bruises marring her neck tomorrow. If she makes it that far, a nasty voice in the back of his mind whispers, one Jim immediately shoves away.

“Come on, Marinette,” he whispers, leaning closer to the screen like he could reach her through it. Hawkmoth has grabbed her arm and is starting to drag her away, but another figure strides forward and stops him. Chat Noir, Jim thinks with a rush of relief, and then anger, because how dare he let this happen to her? How could he let it come this far, let her be unmasked on live video, let her stand up to a supervillain by herself?

He redirects that anger, since Chat Noir has been trying to protect her, is probably taunting Hawkmoth right now trying to get him to release her. They're too far away for the video to pick up on their audio, but not far enough to keep Jim from seeing how he raises a hand, threatens to slap her. And how she flinches.

Then Chat Noir moves, lunges forward and there’s a flash of light that turns the video into a blur of static. They sit there in horrified silence for a moment before the feed shuts off completely, leaves them staring at a dark screen with an error message.

“NO!” Jim screams, and Toby’s scrolling through his phone but he’s not fast enough, Marinette is in danger RIGHT NOW and Jim doesn’t know what’s happening. Can’t see if she’s hurt more, can’t see if she’s gotten free, can’t see if she’s even still alive and nothing matters in this moment except the fact that there’s an ocean between them keeping him from helping her and he’s terrified.

It’s the longest two minutes of his life until they find another video, but this one’s only Rena Rouge. “-all okay,” she’s saying to the reporters who have finally showed up, far too late to catch anything other than a repaired and empty street with their cameras. “Hawkmoth has been defeated and turned over to the proper authorities, and everybody is safe.”

The reporters are falling over themselves asking questions, most about Ladybug ( what’s her name , like it’s not going to be all over the internet within the hour), and Rena declines to comment. “There will be an official statement released in the future,” she says before leaving, a pale and shocked reporter taking her place in front of the camera. She can only repeat facts Jim already knows, so he turns off the television and sits there in silence.

“She must be okay,” Toby finally offers, and Jim nods. Marinette has to be okay, not because of the reporters’ questions or Rena’s composure or even because she’s Ladybug, but because the alternative is too terrible to think of.

“Do you ever feel like you need to be perfect?” Marinette had asked him once, when Jim had noticed the dark circles under her eyes and the flat tone of voice, dulled from her usual vibrancy. “Like everything’s depending on you, and if you aren’t enough then people will get hurt?”

All the time, was his answer, but he couldn’t say why so he didn’t say it at all. “Do you feel that way?”

“Sometimes, yeah,” she said, and he knew that she too really meant always. “It’s just a lot, you know? With school, and the bakery, and…”

“And the akumas,” Jim guessed. The previous day had been a particularly drawn out fight between Ladybug and an akuma, and while he’d been confident Ladybug would win he still worried. This was Marinette's home, her friends, her school. And although they hadn��t discussed it in detail, Marinette trying to change the subject whenever he asked questions until he figured she simply didn’t want to discuss it, he knew the akumas fed off emotion. What was that like, being unable to let yourself be truly angry or afraid, with the constant threat of being weaponized hanging over your head?

“You don’t need to be perfect,” he’d told her. “You just need to be you. That’s all anybody can expect.”

“And what if I’m not enough?” Mari had asked, and Jim had wished that he could place a hand on her shoulder.

“You’re always enough,” he’d said.

Now he's wondering how many other conversations they’d had that were really about Ladybug, and wondering if there was anything he could have said that would have been better. Encouraged her more, made her job the tiniest bit easier. He can't remember saying anything monumentally stupid like let Ladybug handle it, but he wouldn’t put it past his memory to be a bit faulty on this matter.

How had he not known? How had he missed all the signs? Him of all people, who knows exactly what it's like to be fighting evil in between classes, how it feels knowing that you're the only person standing between genuinely evil beings and your home, what it's like keeping everything secret as you attempt to live a double life without either side crumbling.

He’d messaged her as soon as he got home, a quick are you okay before he realised that her phone was probably turned off if she wanted to have any peace. If Jim was exposed as the Trollhunter, everybody would be too busy with the underground secret society of trolls to really bother him. Ladybug was a national figure, and she’d just been unmasked on live television.

So Jim starts stress baking, because while he can’t make sure that Marinette was okay he can make sure that this pie crust stays perfectly golden brown. It doesn't help much, Marinette and baking being permanently linked in his mind after too many nights spent on the phone trying out new recipes together, but at least he’ll get some muffins out of his anxiety instead of just a sleepless night.

“What happened?” his mother asks when she comes home to a kitchen filled with assorted baked goods. She knows him too well for him to pass it off as nothing, and besides he’s tired of lying, but he doesn’t want to tell her about Ladybug. Maybe she’ll find out, but it’s not his secret to give.

“Marinette’s in trouble,” he says. “I haven’t heard from her, and I can’t...” he trails off, unsure what to say. Can’t stand not knowing, can’t help her from here? Can’t breathe properly until he hears her voice, hears from her that everything will be okay? All true, but saying it won’t change it.

“Oh honey,” his mom says, and she’s hugging him and Jim lets himself fall into the embrace. He hopes Marinette has her parents with her right now, hopes they’re hugging her and letting her melt like he is now, hopes more than anything that she’s safe and happy because she deserves to be.

If she were here nothing would keep him from getting to her house. He’d scale the wall and meet her on her balcony, wait by the back door until somebody let him in, do whatever it took to see her. But all he can do is wait for her to reply.

His phone is ringing. In the moment it takes for his half asleep mind to register the noise he’s already reaching for it. The ringtone is a familiar rock song, one he associates with Marinette before Jagged Stone, and a shot of adrenaline clears all the remaining drowsiness from his mind when he remembers why this call is so important.

“Marinette?” he says, the words tumbling out of his mouth as soon as he presses the button and lifts the phone to his ear, and he hears ragged breathing on the other side.

“Jim,” she gasps, and he feels as though a weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

“Are you okay?” he asks, standing and starting to pace.

“I’m fine,” she says, and then she’s crying. “I wanted to tell you. I’m so sorry.”

“Mari,” he says, wishing that he could be next to her, wrap an arm around her shaking shoulders and hold her close. “I don’t care about that, I’m just glad to hear that you’re safe. You don’t know how worried I was.”

“I didn’t mean to,” she replies, and he can still hear the tears in her voice. He hates the sound, hates her choked gasps as she cries, but would take them any day over not hearing from her at all. “I wanted to tell you, I just couldn’t. Hawkmoth... “

“I know,” he says. “I understand.” And he does, more than she knows, and a knot of guilt forms in his stomach. He knows how it feels to want to tell, to share this incredible burden with your best friend, and he understands exactly what prevents that. “I’m just glad you’re okay. You don’t know how scared I was.”

“I know,” she says, and she sniffles. Her tears seem to be running out, and Jim takes a deep breath.

“What happened?” he says, and then it all comes spilling out. She talks about the plan they had, how she was going to be the distraction, how it all went wrong when they found Hawkmoth’s identity (and something in his chest clenches at that, the scar of an old betrayal aching again), and how the ladybugs repaired all the physical damage but they couldn't undo the unmasking. All of Paris knows who their hero is, after she’s worked so hard to keep it a secret.

“I was so worried you’d be upset,” she says. “It’s been such a big part of my life, and I wanted to tell you, but… ”

“I understand,” he says. “Superheroes always have a secret identity.” She gives an embarrassed laugh at that, and he could picture the blush spreading across her face. “Marinette, would you promise me something?”

“What?” He had been sitting down but now he stands, walking over to the window as he decides how exactly to make his request.

“Please, don’t do this again,” he says. “I know you’re a hero, I know you’re smart and capable and strong, but please. Don’t put yourself in danger like that again.”

“Jim… I don’t think I can promise that,” she says, and Jim nods. It’s part of the job, and he can’t make the same promise back. Though she doesn’t know it he's been as much danger as she was, if not more. And he probably will be again.

“I know, I know,” he sighs. “Just… be careful. Seeing you in danger, and I was too far away to do anything, and I… I haven’t even gotten to tell you…” he trails off as his mind catches up with his words. Tell her what? That she makes him smile more than anybody else, that hearing from her always makes his day better, that when he thought she might have been killed the world felt wrong until he heard her voice? All true, but not what he’d been about to say.

“Jim?” Marinette prompts, and he mentally shakes himself.

“We haven’t even gotten to meet,” he says. “In real life. And you’re not allowed to be hurt before that happens.”

“Right,” she says, a bit of a smile returning to her voice. “But all bets are off after, right?”

“It’ll be different after we meet!” A smile begins to tug at the corners of his mouth. “I’ll be able to protect you.”

“Which one of us is the superhero again?” And just like that they fall back into their usual easy banter, and it feels like nothing has changed. It’s like he always knew, like no secrets have ever hung between them, because more important than her being Ladybug is her being Marinette. Yet woven through it all is a pattern of relief, a whispered we’re here and we’re safe as steady as a heartbeat carrying their conversation.

They talk well into the early hours of the morning, and when his alarm wakes him Jim finds the phone fallen on the pillow next to him. They must have fallen asleep talking, as the phone informs him they spent far more hours on call than he remembers, and there’s a text from her. Goodnight Jim! Thank you.

He holds his phone to his chest and stares at the ceiling, eyes stinging from not enough sleep, and wonders just what he had been about to tell her.

—

They parked a news van outside her house. She kept the curtains drawn and couldn’t go out, communicated to her friends and other heroes over phone calls and video chats. The official press release had been delivered by Rena Rouge and Carapace. Chat Noir had vanished; Marinette told him that his identity wasn’t her secret to share, but he was safe and recovering. But Paris still wanted to hear from Ladybug, and she just wanted to be left alone.

Chloe had surprised both of them by hiring a full bodyguard detail to guard the shop. Marinette thought it was her way of apologizing for some of her earlier behaviour at school, but she was mostly grateful that she hadn’t asked any questions. Her parents were trying to run the shop but kept getting people who just wanted to meet her, and had ended up resorting to mainly doing deliveries to keep gawkers out of their house. Marinette couldn’t leave, and although she tried to stay positive Jim knew she was feeling trapped.

“Come stay with me,” Jim had said, the words out of his mouth before he could think them through. But it made sense. In America less people knew or cared about Ladybug’s secret identity; she could take a vacation and wait out the media storm, return when she could take a walk outside without needing to worry about paparazzi.

It had been a whirlwind of planning, dates and phone calls from both their parents, but the day has finally arrived. Chloe lent Marinette her private jet; her parents will follow in a few days once they can close down the shop and move into a small condo they’ll be renting. So Jim has prepared a spare bedroom, given what little Ladybug memorabilia he has to Toby with threats to keep him from showing her any of it, and warned the trolls that he’ll have a houseguest. He has not informed them that he’ll be telling her about being the Trollhunter. It’ll be easier to ask forgiveness than permission, when they don’t know Marinette like he does. She can keep a secret, and she deserves to know.

He had thought about bringing a sign, but was worried it might call unwanted attention so refrained. Now he wishes that he brought one, if only to have something to hold. What’s he supposed to do with his hands? It’s ridiculous, this is Marinette, but it’s also the first time they’ll be seeing each other in person and he can’t help but feel suddenly uneasy, like something will go very wrong the moment she steps off the plane. What if he steps forward to greet her and steps on her foot? Or trips and falls into her? And that breaks her nose? Or maybe he’ll knock her over completely, and...

His catastrophic thoughts ground to a halt the moment he sees a flash of hair so black it’s almost blue, and suddenly he’s running forward and so is she. They have never met each other before but they’re flying into each other’s arms, and she fits so perfectly it’s like they’ve done this a million times before.

“Hey,” he says, a little breathless as he pulls back to look at her in the eyes, and he’s smiling so broadly that his cheeks hurt. Marinette’s smile is even more beautiful in person.

“Hi,” she replies, and they stand there for a moment in each others’ arms only to jump apart when his mother clears her throat.

“Marinette, it’s good to meet you,” she says, pointedly ignoring the blush spreading across Marinette’s face. Jim can feel his own cheeks heating and suddenly finds the floor very interesting as he attempts to gather himself, to concentrate on all the words he was planning to say instead of only thinking of the way she felt in his arms.

“It’s lovely to meet you too Ms Lake,” Marinette says, composing herself quickly and holding out her hand.

“Please, call me Barbara.” His mom shakes her hand with a warm smile. “How was your flight?”

“It was good, thank you,” she says.

“First class treatment! What was it like?” Jim asks, and she grins at him.

“I saved you some of the pretzels,” she says, pulling out a package of them from her pocket.

“And this is why we’re friends,” he says, and she laughs.

“Because I give you food?”

“No other reason,” he says.

“Glad to hear your friendship is so easily bought,” she teases. “A single pack of stale airline pretzels?”

“Private jet pretzels,” he says. He returns her grin and then their smiles soften. “It’s really good to see you.” The words aren’t enough, can’t convey the sense of rightness he feels at having her here, but she seems to understand anyways.

“You too.” Marinette blushes and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. The moment is broken by a man clearing his throat, somebody who looks like he just walked out of a Men in Black movie which is contrasted by the pastel pink suitcase and duffel bag he’s holding.

“Excuse me ma'am, we can bring your luggage to the vehicle,” he says, and they’re both stepping forward in tandem.

“Oh, thank you but that’s okay,” she says, while he’s saying “I can take that for you,” and thankfully the man doesn’t fight as they pull the luggage from his hands (her with the duffel, him with her suitcase) because even with his Trollhunting-obtained muscle Jim’s not sure he would win a tug-of-war with him.

“Shall we?” his mom says, leading them out to the car, and Jim feels a rush of excitement as it begins to sink in that he can finally show Marinette his home.

“It’s not a limo, but I hope it’s fancy enough,” he says, and she rolls her eyes.

“I’m sure I’ll manage.” Then her mouth quirks up in a grin that he recognizes, and she takes off after his mom. “Race you!” she calls.

“You don’t even know which one is ours!” Jim shouts back, while trying to convince the wheels on her suitcase to maintain a pace they were never built for. They fall into the backseat with flushed cheeks and racing heartbeats, and he spends half the drive home pointing out things for her to finally put an image to and the other half admiring how much better she looks in person compared to a video feed.

—

The creaking floorboard wakes him up. Not that he’d been sleeping too well anyways, his dreams a confused muddle of anxiety he's thankful didn’t break out into a full nightmare. He considers rolling over and trying to go back to sleep, but then remembers that Marinette is here and there’s a chance Draal has ignored all of his warnings and decided a midnight snack is appropriate right now. It takes a moment to locate his house robe and shrugs it on over his pyjamas before creeping into the hallway. Marinette’s door is also open.

He finds her in the kitchen, softly opening cupboards. She’s already located a mug and it’s waiting on the kitchen island, and her eyes go wide and she winces an apology at him when she sees him.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” she says, and he shrugs as he heads for the drawer where they keep their tea bags.

“It’s fine,” he says, holding them up for her to inspect. “Chamomile?” She nods and he starts the kettle boiling. “Jet lag? Or something else?” She looks away, and the dark rims under her eyes are too pronounced to come from one night.

“I don’t think I want to talk about it right now,” she says, and Jim nods. He pours them both a cup and beckons her over to the couch.

“If we use subtitles we can watch something,” he says. “Unless you’d rather be alone.”

“No,” she says, sitting down next to him. She’s wearing a blanket over her shoulders and pulls it up, tucks it around her until only her head and her hand holding her tea are poking out. “Company is good.”

They don’t say anything else as Jim pulls up Beauty and the Beast (the Disney animated one, she’d told him years ago it was her comfort film) and sets the subtitles to French. They’d been speaking English all day with only occasional slips into French, but he thinks she might need something familiar right now. Halfway through the villagers singing about how strange Belle is she shifts and her free hand creeps out of the blankets to the couch cushion between them.

“I keep seeing their faces,” she whispers, the words solemn and heavy. “There were casualties when we fought him.” He hasn’t heard anything about casualties, probably because Lucky Charm always fixes everything at the end of the battle. Everything but the guilt in her voice, the fear in her eyes, the way she flinches when he reaches out and takes her hand in his.

“It was his fault,” he says. “Not yours.” Her breath hitches a little, and he knows she’s on the verge of tears. “You saved them. You did everything you could, and you won.”

“Are you disappointed?”

“What?” He turns and looks at her, the movie forgotten as he tries to figure out what on earth he has to be disappointed about.

“I know you admired her,” she says, her eyes flicking over his face. “Ladybug, I mean. And to find out that it’s just me, and that I’m…”

“Marinette, you’re amazing,” he says honestly, squeezing her hand. “You’re brave and selfless and kind, and the only difference between you and Ladybug was that she had superpowers. You’re a hero with or without them. I could never be disappointed.”

Maybe she moves towards him or he moves forward first, but however it happens they’re bundled together in a hug. She’s shaking, and Jim wishes more than anything that he could take this from her. She doesn’t deserve this burden even if she is strong enough to carry it, and it’s a tragedy she has to.

She pulls back a little and they watch Belle sing about adventure, still wrapped in an embrace made mostly of blankets, and when Maurice heads into the castle he shifts slightly and reaches forward for the box of tissues, silently offering it to her.

“Thank you,” she says, grabbing a few.

“I wish I could help more,” he says, and they both know he’s not talking about the tissues. She looks at him, eyes still a little too wet, and gives him a smile.

“You did,” she says, quiet conviction in her voice. “Jim, you were my rock. Some days the only thing that kept me sane was knowing that I’d be able to talk to you afterwards, even if I couldn’t tell you the details.” He tightens his arm around her shoulder but says nothing, and her face scrunches up in a frown. “It’s true, you know,” she says. “I didn’t need you fighting beside me. I just needed a friend. And you were always there, no matter what time it was or how little I was saying.”

Their minds are likely both flashing over other midnight conversations, texts sent in the middle of classes and calls made by sneaking out of study hall, and although they were sparse on some details like names and events they certainly hadn’t hidden how they were feeling.

He still feels guilty, still wishes that he could have been next to her in that final battle and all the previous ones, but he has to trust that whatever little he was able to offer was enough.

The movie goes on and he feels something in his chest tighten at the library scene, as all the characters sing about something there that wasn’t there before. But was it really, he wonders? He always wants to protect his friends, always wants to help people, but sometime when he wasn’t looking Marinette quietly claimed a piece of his heart that he only just realised was missing. Falling in love with her was so easy, so natural, that the landing was soft enough to go unnoticed.

“I think I’m in love with you,” he whispers as Beauty and her Beast dance through the dazzling ballroom, and his stomach falls at her silence until he looks down and realises she’s drifted off to sleep, head using his lap as a pillow and hands curling around the blanket.

I’ll tell her soon, he promises himself as his own eyelids start to droop. But they have time, and right now they both just need to rest.

—

It was an awful fact that whenever one promised to do something tomorrow the fated day never arrived, forever shoved aside in favor of endless todays until it's suddenly Marinette’s last day staying with him. She still likely has a few more months in Arcadia, but the packed suitcase in the hallway makes him feel like his window's closing. It was so easy to let their conversation be light and easy, to spend their days biking through the town and introducing her to his friends, that he’s managed to put it off until now. But today would be the day.

They’d planned a picnic. Just the two of them, and if he’d actually had this conversation before this could be their first date. She’d insisted on finding a red checkered blanket to spread on the ground (they’d eventually found one in a thrift store) and they’d made each other weird sandwiches (peanut butter, bacon, and banana for him, pear walnut for her), and everything was loaded in his picnic basket. The amulet was in his back pocket.

Maybe it’s better this way, he thinks, staring at his bike like it'll offer some sage wisdom for the situation. If she doesn’t feel the same it would be awkward if she was still in the same house. Or if the trolls freak her out he supposes she won't mind moving, but he can’t help but feel that confession will be the easier out of the two. After all, he’s met Tikki, and kwamis seem a bit more shocking than trolls.

“Ready to go?” Marinette asks, closing the door behind her, and Jim nods and smiles as she mounts her bike.

“No earrings?”

“I think Ladybug deserves a day off,” she says, and he wonders if Tikki knows some of what he wants to say and has decided to give them alone time. “Let’s go!”

She’d memorized the layout of the town very quickly, something she credited to years of biking being her main transportation through Paris. She also had a bad habit of looking for cars driving the wrong way while crossing the road, and he was trying to at least get her to look both ways before darting out into the street. His caution has sadly not yet caught on, and she’s quickly outpacing him as they ride towards the woods.

They dismount and leave their bikes behind a bush before walking further into the woods, Marinette admiring the surroundings with wide eyes.

“No forests in Paris?” Jim asks, and she shrugs.

“There’s some parks, but nothing this size,” she says. “And this is just here. You can walk in any direction and run into more forest.”

“Maybe we can go camping,” Jim suggests. “When your parents have gotten settled in, we can spend a weekend at Yosemite or something.” He hasn’t gone camping in years, but he’s learned plenty of wilderness survival skills from Blinky. Granted he was fairly certain only a few of them applied to humans, but it would still be fun. He’d probably find trollish lessons fun if he was doing them with Marinette.

They plan their camping trip as they cross a river, and Marinette’s laugh distracts Jim enough that his foot slips off a rock and ends up drenched in river water. She’s concerned at first but soon enough they’re both laughing over it, and they finally reach the clearing. Buttercups and daisies dot the grass between dandelions, and they spread the blanket and lie down, looking up at the cloudless sky.

“I bet the stars out here are beautiful,” Marinette says. “We have to come back some time at night and stargaze.”

“I can try and borrow Toby’s telescope,” Jim agrees. “Have you gone stargazing before?”

“Not really,” she says. “You can’t see too many in Paris from light pollution, and my nights were usually too busy to stop and look. You?”

“Same,” he says. “I’ve tried to pick out constellations a few times, but I’m terrible at it. They all look the same to me.”

“You just have to start with what you know!” Marinette says. “Find Orion’s belt or the Big Dipper and go from there.”

“So you have gone stargazing!” He props himself up on an elbow to look at her, and she shakes her head.

“No, I’ve just used star maps,” she says. “I was making a skirt design that used constellations and I wanted it to be accurate!”

“You know you could probably just make random dots and nobody would know the difference, right?”

“I would know the difference!” she says, sitting up. “Haven’t you ever taken pride in your work? Done it right for the sake of doing so?”

“Of course! I used to drive my mom crazy by insisting on making pie crusts from scratch.”

“They taste better that way!”

“Exactly! But I never had time to make them, so we went without pie for a while until I caved and went store bought.”

“Jim!” she gasps, her hand covering her mouth in faux horror. “Never let my parents hear you say that, they’ll never let us speak again!”

“Scandalous, I know!” he agrees. “But if I have you to ask for help I won’t need to resort to such desperate measures in the future.”

“You can spend all day baking with my dad, he’ll love it,” she says. “He thinks that’s the best way to get to know somebody, so expect an interrogation while making a layer cake.”

“An interrogation? Don’t they already know me?” Marinette blushes and looks away.

“They do, but not as well as they want to,” she says. He sits up, but she still refuses to meet her gaze. “After all, they think… well…”

Tell her now, his mind screams at him. This is the perfect time! But suddenly his tongue is made of lead. “Marinette,” he says, and it’s a wonder she can hear him over the sound of his suddenly too loud heartbeat. But hear she does, and her head turns towards him maybe a little too quickly.

“Yes?”

“I…” And despite how much he wants to tell her, for whatever reason the only words he can force out of his mouth are “Would you like a sandwich?”

“Oh,” she says, deflating a little. “Yeah, sure.” His hands tremble a little as he opens up the picnic basket and passes her the food. He grabs his as well; the plan is for them to take the first bite at the same time, but he’s not sure if he can manage to eat anything from the way his stomach is twisting. “Ready?” Marinette says with a grin, but it’s not as wide as it was before.

“Wait,” he says, and she wrinkles her nose at him.

“This is a bad time to tell me you’re allergic to peanut butter,” she says, and he smiles.

“Not that,” he says. “I was actually going to tell you… well, I…” She doesn’t say anything, just stares at him with eyes bluer than the sky, and Jim wonders why this moment is harder than leaping into the Darklands.

“Marinette, you’re a great friend,” he says, and he wants to kick himself as he sees her face fall. “That’s not what I meant!” he says, and now she just looks confused. “I mean, I wanted to say that while I love our friendship, I also… I might think of you as more. More than a friend.” HIs cheeks are ablaze and he can’t meet her gaze, instead choosing to focus on his sandwich. The pickle juice will make the bread soggy, but eating it is the last thing on his mind.

“Jim, is this a date?” Marinette asks, and her voice is soft enough that he can’t discern her feelings.

“Maybe,” he says. “It can be, if you want it to be.” And he’s so ready to hear her gently turn him down (he knows she likes Adrien, and he’s just Jim! He can’t hold a candle to an actual model) that he almost misses her reply.

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Yes, I’d like this to be a date.” He looks at her, and he’s never seen anybody look as happy as she does in that moment.

“You mean you-”

“Yeah,” she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I think I’ve liked you for a while now. I just wasn’t sure how to bring it up.”

“Me neither,” he says. “I thought Adrien-”

“We’re friends,” she says. “And Claire?”

“Friends,” he says. They went on a date once and it was terribly awkward, and at the end they agreed a platonic relationship was better. But he doesn’t want to think about Claire right now, not when Marinette is there and she apparently likes him too. “I figured it out when I was watching the battle,” he confesses.

“Because you learned I was Ladybug?” she asks, and he shakes his head.

“Because I realised I couldn’t lose you,” he says. “It was more of a catalyst than a deciding factor.” It’s not Ladybug he fell in love with, it’s Marinette and all the little things about her that make her extraordinary.

“I figured it out on the plane ride over,” she says. “Alya told me to tell her all the details about ‘my new boyfriend’ and I spent the whole flight thinking about that.”

“Oh,” he says, and his cheeks are beginning to hurt from his smile. “I should have told you sooner, shouldn’t I?”

“Yes!” Marinette agrees with a laugh. “We could have been dating this whole time!”

“It’s only been a few days,” he says. “And besides, I don’t think we would have done anything too different.” Now that he thinks about it a lot of their excursions around the town could have been dates: going to the museum, petting the dogs in the pet shop, eating at his favourite cafe, visiting the library.

“I could have done this sooner,” she says, and she leans forward and kisses him. It’s a quick peck on his cheek, but he feels as though a shock of electricity has gone through him. “Sorry,” she says, pulling back. “I should have asked first.” But he puts down his sandwich and reaches out for her, slowly cupping her cheek.

“May I?” he asks, and she nods. And he lowers his lips to hers.

It’s not like a dream, or something magical. It’s better than that because it’s real, he’s really and truly here with Marinette and they are kissing, and when he finally pulls back he can’t help but marvel at the flushed and beaming expression she’s wearing because of him.

“You’re lucky I did that before I ate the sandwich,” he says, and she laughs.

“I’d let you even with pickle breath,” she says, and not even the strange food combinations they’ve made can cause their smiles to dim. They eat and exchange the second half of their sandwiches, and drink lemonade and eat apples and toss the cores as far as they can (he’s got more strength, but yo yo throwing has made her accuracy unbeatable). And as the shadows are beginning to lengthen he doesn’t want to leave, exit this perfect afternoon and go to the next moment where he’ll have to let the rest of the world into this new and wonderful thing, but decides that since the future will hold second and third dates and hopefully many dates after that it won’t be so terrible letting this one end.

“I'm really glad that you finally told me,” she says as they pack up the picnic, shaking the crumbs off the blanket before folding it. “Despite how hard it was to get the words out.”

“Next time I’ll just use Romeo’s speech,” he says. “But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Marinette is the sun.”

“I’ll need to brush up on my Shakespeare if I want to keep up,” she says, and he shrugs.

“If you want, but I can’t think of anything better than you,” he says. “The words you speak, I mean. And the way you say things.” His cheeks are burning again, but she smiles at him and gives him another kiss.

“Sometimes you talk too much,” she says, and he nods and kisses her again. All good things must come to an end, as kisses are limited by lung capacity, but he can’t bring himself to mind now that the prospect of many more kisses await both of them in the future.

“If this is the result, I don’t think I mind being unmasked,” she tells him, and he nods. “Plus, we don’t need to play the awkward secret identity game this way.” With a flash he remembers that there were two things he wanted to tell her about, and while he doesn’t think this will be a dealbreaker he’d much rather get it out of the way sooner rather than later. He’s learned his lesson about hiding things from Marinette.

“Actually, there was one more thing I wanted to tell you about,” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the amulet.

#my fic #jimari #jiminette #ml fic #trollhunters fic #jim lake jr #marinette dupain cheng #trollhunters #miraculous ladybug #today on fics that turned out much longer than i thought they'd be #'i can write fluff!' i say 4k words into this. 'it just takes some time!'#i don't think i'm capable of writing about these characters without thinking about the implications #jimari secret santa 2020

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